They claimed my daughter killed herself. A lie. She was raped and murdered. Seven times I begged the courts. Seven times denied. So I took the District Attorney’s daughter. Now, live on air, she’s strapped to my autopsy table. I stare into the camera, voice icy. “I did the autopsy myself, DA Caldwell. My daughter didn’t kill herself. She was murdered.” “You had seven chances to release the evidence. Now you get seven more. For every wasted chance, I remove a piece of your daughter.” On screen, Caldwell and his wife collapse, pleading: “The evidence shows suicide! She’s innocent!” The live chat erupts—monster, mad mother—but I just smile coldly, scalpel glinting as I trace the girl’s stomach. “Tick-tock. Show me the real killer.” He’s watching. The true monster is here. 1 Seeing their daughter on my table, the Caldwells shattered. “Dr. Hayes, your daughter’s death was a tragedy, but it was a suicide! What gives you the right to kidnap my child? She’s only eight years old!” the DA cried out. His wife’s voice was a hysterical shriek. “You have a child of your own! How can you be so heartless, you venomous snake!” A police officer, standing behind the DA, tried to reason with me through the camera. Even my old colleagues from the coroner’s office chimed in, their faces etched with concern. “Lynn, calm down. Please, don’t hurt that child. Mia’s death… it really was a suicide,” one of them said, his voice gentle. “You’re a medical examiner, Lynn. You know the law. Don’t destroy your life over this. Mia wouldn’t want to see you like this,” another added. “Think about it, Lynn. Mia’s body is still in the morgue, waiting for you to bring her home.” The online comments echoed their sentiments, a chorus of condemnation. “Is she insane? Just because her daughter died, she gets to torture someone else’s?” “I heard she appealed seven times and got rejected every time. This is just petty revenge against the DA!” “Seven rejections means it’s an open-and-shut case. If there was a killer, they would’ve found him by now.” “Instead of blaming everyone else, maybe she should ask herself why her own daughter wanted to die.” They had their reasons. I had mine. And my reason was simple: my daughter would never, ever kill herself. Three months ago, my Mia, who was supposed to be heading off to her dream university, was dead. Her body, pulled from the river, was a canvas of bruises, naked and cold. Because of my relationship with the victim, the office assigned another examiner to the case. I trusted the process. I thought an autopsy would bring the truth to light. But the official report came back: suicide by drowning. My Mia was a ray of sunshine. She radiated life and laughter. Suicide was not in her vocabulary. When they released her body to me, I brought her back to my own lab. With tears blurring my vision, I performed my own autopsy. And I found it. The brutal, undeniable proof of what had been done to her before she died. I collected the evidence. I documented everything. And I appealed. Again, and again, and again. Each time, my case was dismissed. The seventh time, I presented graphic photos of the horrific injuries she’d sustained—injuries that screamed sexual assault. Dismissed. I was done being dismissed. So I took the DA’s daughter. I would make them tell the truth. I step closer to the small girl on the table, the scalpel feeling like an extension of my own hand. “I told you. She did not kill herself.” My voice is dangerously quiet now. “DA Caldwell, I’ve given you a chance. Whether or not you save your daughter is up to you. Scalpels, after all, can be so… imprecise.” I can still see his face from that final appeal. The condescending pity in his eyes. I had been screaming, my voice raw with grief and fury. “This evidence came from my daughter’s body! It proves a violent crime was committed! I’ve done seven autopsies myself! What more proof do you need?!” He had looked at me as if I were a piece of dirt on his shoe. His voice was cold, clinical, final. “Ms. Hayes, given your maternal relationship to the deceased, any evidence you provide is considered potentially compromised and emotionally biased. It is not sufficient to overturn the original ruling.” His message was clear: It didn’t matter how many times I appealed. It would never be enough. Even my own lawyer had sighed, shaking his head. “Let it go, Lynn.” Let it go? I see Mia’s face in my mind, and I know I can’t. Seeing me ready to act, a collective gasp ripples through the audience, both in the room with the DA and online. Sharon Caldwell’s legs give out, and she collapses to the floor. “No, no, please… don’t hurt my baby,” she sobs, clawing at her husband’s trousers. “Do something! Give her what she wants! Our Daisy will die!” The DA’s face is pale, his composure cracking. He fumbles for his phone. “Dr. Hayes, I’ve told you a dozen times, your daughter’s death was a sui—” Before he can finish, my scalpel flashes. A small, precise cut. The girl’s ear is gone. Blood wells up instantly, crimson against her pale skin. The child, though sedated, whimpers and convulses in pain. I hold up the severed piece for the camera. “Six chances left.” The sight sends a shockwave of panic through everyone watching. Sharon Caldwell lets out a sound that is barely human, a raw, guttural scream of a mother watching her child be mutilated. “You’re a monster! A monster! Leave my baby alone! She’s innocent!” The DA, his eyes wild with terror, is now frantically yelling into his phone, presumably to his superiors. The police are scrambling, trying to trace my broadcast location. But they won’t find me. The account I’m using is routed through a dozen offshore servers. It will take them hours, and they don’t have hours. The comments section is a waterfall of hatred. “Pure evil. She deserves to burn in hell!” “Why couldn’t she have died instead of her daughter?” “Where are the cops?! Get this psychopath off the streets!” … Let them curse me. I don’t care. To uncover the truth of what happened to my Mia, I would burn the whole world down. Ignoring the noise, I wait. Ten minutes pass. Finally, DA Caldwell appears on screen again, holding up a file. He begins to read from the official police report. I barely glance at it before turning back to the girl. With another swift movement, I sever her thumb. “Five chances left.” The evidence he’s presenting is the same garbage I’ve seen a hundred times. A collection of half-truths and fabricated conclusions, all pointing to suicide. It’s a lie. A carefully constructed lie designed to hide a monster. I’m not satisfied. My scalpel drifts lazily over the girl’s arm, leaving a thin red line in its wake. “You know this isn’t what I want, Caldwell,” I say, my voice a low growl. “I want the killer. I want the evidence of what he did to my daughter. The real evidence. The files you buried. Stop feeding me these fairy tales, or the next thing to go won’t be a finger.” The DA’s face is ashen, but he grits his teeth. “This is the evidence! Everything here confirms that your daughter, Mia Hayes, died by suicide!” His wife launches herself at the camera again, her face a mess of tears and mascara. “You lunatic! Let my child go! We gave you the proof, what more do you want?!” I look at her broken form, and a bitter, painful smile crosses my face. “We’re both mothers. You can’t bear to see your child suffer. And I refuse to let mine die in vain.” The live chat erupts once more. “She’s in complete denial. The evidence is right there.” “This is a classic case of persecutory delusion.” “We live in a society of laws. The facts are the facts. What the hell is she trying to prove?” The hate washes over me, but I don’t feel it. All I see is my daughter’s face, her silenced voice crying out for justice. The seconds tick by, each one a twist of the knife in my heart, each one a countdown for another part of the DA’s daughter. On his third attempt, he presents the same old lies. They’re stalling. Trying to buy time to find me. But I won’t give them that luxury. My resolve hardens. I take the girl’s hand and, with a sickening pop, I sever the tendons in her wrist. “I have all the time in the world,” I say, my voice flat and dead. “Does your daughter, Mr. Caldwell?” I pause, letting the question hang in the air. “Or are you really willing to sacrifice your own child to protect a criminal?” My words hit their mark. He chokes, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, his whole body trembling with a mixture of rage and helplessness. His wife has fainted. The police try a new tactic. They bring my mentor on screen. Dr. Peterson. The man who taught me everything I know. He stands before the camera, his old eyes cloudy with sorrow. “Lynn,” he says, his voice raspy. “You fight for the people. You give a voice to the dead. How can you do this to a living child? I know you’re in pain over Mia, but listen to me. Please, don’t take this path.” Seeing him, the man who was like a father to me, sends a fresh wave of agony through me. He performed the official autopsy on my daughter. He, too, hid the truth. “Dr. Peterson,” I whisper, the words catching in my throat. “You watched Mia grow up. When you cut into her body… didn’t you feel anything? Why are you helping them cover this up?” I don’t understand. How could everyone be protecting this monster? He lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Lynn, Mia’s death was a suicide. I am not lying to you. The police are not lying to you. The DA is not lying to you.” He glances at Caldwell, a flicker of something passing between them. Then he gestures off-camera. “We have a witness who can attest to Mia’s depression.” My blood runs cold as a girl steps into the frame. It’s Chloe. My daughter’s best friend. Chloe stands before the world and says, her voice trembling, “Aunt Lynn… I can confirm it. Mia was depressed. She… she had talked about killing herself before.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I stagger back, my breath catching in my chest. For a moment, the world goes silent. I stare at Chloe’s face on the screen, her eyes darting away from the camera, and I feel my heart being squeezed in a vise. Mia’s closest confidante. The girl who spent half her life at our house, who shared secrets with Mia under the covers late at night. How could she be part of this lie? The day before Mia died, she was bubbling with excitement, telling me how she and Chloe had both gotten into the same top university. They were planning their trip, dreaming of exploring the city, seeing the sights… She was so full of hope, so electric with joy. That wasn’t a girl on the verge of suicide. “Chloe,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady, but my shaking hands betray me. “Look at me. Tell me you’re telling the truth. When did Mia ever say she was depressed? Did she see a doctor? Is there a diagnosis?” Chloe won’t meet my gaze. Her voice is barely a whisper. “Before finals… she said she was scared of disappointing you if she didn’t get in… She said the pressure was too much, that… that life felt meaningless…” “That’s a lie!” I roar, cutting her off. “Mia was a brilliant student! Getting into that university was her dream, not just mine! She would never throw her life away over grades! Who’s making you say this? Is it him? The killer? Is it Caldwell? Or is it…” My eyes lock onto Dr. Peterson. “Is it my mentor?” Chloe shakes her head, pulling a folded envelope from her pocket. She opens it and carefully removes a single sheet of paper. “No one is threatening me, Aunt Lynn. Mia really did kill herself.” She unfolds the paper and holds it up to the camera. “This is her suicide note.” Mom, I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore… I stare at the words, my heart splintering into a thousand pieces. The handwriting… it’s unmistakably Mia’s. The police had already confirmed it. For a shattering moment, my resolve wavers. Could it be true? Was Mia secretly suffering, and I was too blind to see it? Then, as my eyes scan the page, my gaze falls on a single sentence. One line, hidden in the text. And in that instant, everything becomes terrifyingly clear. I finally understand why they were so certain they could rule her death a suicide. Just as everyone watching breathed a sigh of relief, convinced I would finally break, I turned back to the table. I brought the scalpel down, severing one of the DA’s daughter’s toes. I looked back at the camera, my eyes burning with a cold, renewed fire. “This note,” I snarled, “is a lie. And I’m not buying it.” “You have three chances left, Caldwell.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394046”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On a variety show, my celebrity daughter claimed she felt like an outsider at home, saying, “They always tell me, ‘If you’re so capable, go fend for yourself.’” The internet rallied behind her, shoving a mic in my face, demanding an explanation. “Explain what?” I finally said. “That she gave me a snake necklace, cockroach earrings, and a toad music box? Or when she tried to eat mercury like candy? Or dug up the wrong grave at midnight?” Silence fell—then public opinion flipped. 【They only told you to leave? They should’ve beaten you. Kids remember wrongs, not the full story… When will her parents recover from her trauma?】 1 The phone rang while I was repotting an orchid. The caller ID read “Nora the Fearless,” my special nickname for my daughter, Nora. She’s been daring since she was a little girl, and that boldness eventually led her straight into the entertainment industry, where she became one of the few female action stars who does all her own stunts. “Mom, you busy? Come be on a variety show with me.” Nora’s voice was crisp and direct, just like her. I instinctively frowned, my hands pausing over the soil. “No, thanks.” “I can’t fight, and I definitely can’t scale a tree in ten seconds.” A weary sigh came through the phone. “Mom, what are you talking about? It’s not that kind of show.” She sounded exasperated. “It’s a family show that promotes career equality. They invite celebrities from different fields to bring their family members who have other professions. It’s to show people what different jobs are really like.” “Dad’s off studying a volcano in another country and won’t be back for a while,” she added. “Otherwise, we could have all gone together.” Hearing that, my heart softened a bit. My husband, Walter, is a geologist who spends his life chasing active volcanoes around the globe. We rarely get to be together as a family. But I was still wary. TV shows always have a gimmick. “Are you sure there’s no mortal danger? I don’t have to jump off a cliff or wrestle an alligator, do I?” “Mom!” Nora’s voice shot up half an octave before she reined it in, a note of exasperated amusement in her tone. “Can you just trust me for once? It’s just talking and playing some games. Totally safe.” To convince me, she did something she hadn’t done in years. She drew out the last word, her voice taking on an almost pleading, whiny quality. “Please, Mom?” I froze. The trowel in my hand clattered to the floor. Ever since Nora started her martial arts training, the word “cutesy” had been permanently erased from her vocabulary. She was tough, independent, and never showed a hint of weakness. I had teased her more than once, asking her to act cute for me, but she always stood her ground, saying, “Mom, I’m not a little girl anymore. That’s so cringey.” Now, that long-lost, slightly awkward plea felt like a warm current melting in my chest. I was secretly thrilled but decided to play it cool. “Just asking isn’t enough.” “Huh?” “How about this,” I said, clearing my throat to hide my smile. “You owe me one. The next time I ask you to act cute, you have to do it just like you did today. Then I’ll agree.” There was a full five seconds of silence on the other end, followed by a shouted, “Deal!” Then she hung up. Beaming, I wiped my hands and sent a text to my husband. Walt, I’ve got something amazing to show you when you get back. Our daughter knows how to be cute again! The message went out into the void. He was probably in some signal-dead zone near a volcano again. 2 On the day of the first recording, I arrived at the studio as promised. Nora’s team was waiting for me at the entrance and led me to a private dressing room backstage. The show was called The Other Side of the Job, and the theme was genuinely interesting. In today’s hyper-connected world, professional stereotypes have become more entrenched than ever. The show aimed to break those down by inviting celebrities and their family members from different professions to promote career equality. Nora, a rising action star, was at the peak of her popularity. Her fight scenes were clean and powerful, and she never used a stunt double or complained about the grueling work. That grit had earned her a solid place in the industry. But it also fueled all sorts of speculation about her family background. Many people just assumed that for a girl to be that tough, she must have come from a difficult home that forced her to be that way. I had just sat down in the dressing room when a young assistant handed me a tablet displaying the live comments from the stream. 【Nora’s mom is finally making an appearance? I’m so curious about her.】 【My guess? She’s from the countryside, probably favors sons over daughters, which is why Nora is so desperate to prove herself.】 【From the glimpse in the promo, she dresses pretty plainly. Probably just a housewife. Maybe she has a son to support too. Ugh, being the older sister is always the worst.】 【Stop making stuff up. But judging by Nora’s intensity, her family probably isn’t well-off.】 I read the comments with a small, amused smile. A son? One Nora the Fearless was more than enough to handle. Another one would probably tear this family apart. I put the tablet aside. Before long, there was a knock on the door, and the other two sets of guests arrived. The producers had arranged a common lounge area for everyone to get acquainted. The first pair to walk in was the popular singer-songwriter, Evan, and his girlfriend, Cobie. Cobie wrote the lyrics for almost all of Evan’s songs, and they were widely considered the industry’s golden couple. They certainly looked the part, whispering and smiling, their affection for each other impossible to hide. The other pair was the award-winning actress, Maya, and her younger sister, Stella. Maya was a household name, known for her humility. She greeted us warmly, her smile genuine. Nora responded politely. “Nora, it’s been a while! I saw your new movie. Your fighting was incredible,” Maya said with sincere admiration. “You’re too kind, Maya,” Nora replied. But the sister trailing behind her was a different story entirely. Stella’s chin was tilted high, her eyes scanning the room with undisguised disdain. She glanced at Evan and Cobie, a smirk playing on her lips. “A trashy songwriter, worthy of being on the same show as us?” Evan and Cobie’s faces fell, but they were too well-mannered to say anything. Then, Stella’s gaze shifted to Nora and me. She looked Nora’s casual, athletic wear up and down, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “You reek of sweat. So gross. All that fighting… you don’t look like a girl at all.” 3 The air in the room instantly turned to ice. Nora’s expression hardened, and her hands, resting on her knees, clenched into fists. I gently patted her hand, signaling her to stay calm. “Stella!” Maya’s face darkened, and she immediately reprimanded her. “That’s incredibly rude! Apologize to everyone, now!” But Stella clearly had no respect for her older sister. She just snorted dismissively. “Apologize for what? I’m just telling the truth. What’s so great about you, huh? You just got into the industry a few years before me and got lucky with an award. Just you wait. In a few years, I’ll be way more famous than you.” With that, she smoothed down her expensive designer dress and stormed out of the dressing room. Maya’s face flushed with embarrassment. She took a deep breath and turned to us, her expression full of apology. “I’m so sorry. My sister… she’s new to the industry and has been spoiled by our family. She can be arrogant and doesn’t think before she speaks. Please, forgive her.” Evan managed a tight smile and squeezed his girlfriend’s hand. “It’s fine, Maya. We don’t mind.” I also nodded with a smile. “It’s alright. Young people can be a bit fiery.” We all tacitly agreed to move on from the awkward moment. A staff member soon came to get us for the show. I glanced at the tablet the assistant had placed on the table. The comment section had exploded. 【OMG, who is this Stella? How can she talk like that in front of everyone?】 【She’s always been like this. She’s had good connections from the start, so it’s no surprise she’s arrogant.】 【To be fair, she’s a decent actress. Her supporting roles have been pretty good. What she’s like in private doesn’t matter to us viewers.】 【Are you kidding me? Rude is rude. It has nothing to do with her talent. I feel bad for Nora and Evan.】 The bright spotlights hit us, shutting out the backstage drama. The host’s enthusiastic voice filled the studio, and the show officially began. “Welcome, everyone, to The Other Side of the Job!” the host announced, holding a stack of cue cards. “Today, we have three very special sets of guests who will share with us the untold stories behind their careers and families.” The show proceeded as planned. The first segment was a warm-up, where the guests introduced themselves and their family members’ professions. The microphone was first passed to Maya. She was dressed in an elegant champagne-colored gown, her makeup flawless. As a celebrated actress, she hardly needed an introduction. The host showered her with praise, discussing everything from her classic roles to her recent international awards. The studio audience and the online comments were full of applause. “Maya, today you’ve brought your younger sister, Stella, is that right?” the host asked. “Stella is also a rising star in our industry. Welcome!” The host turned the microphone to Stella. She adjusted her dress and took the mic, a look of entitled pride on her face. “Hello, I’m Stella.” Her introduction was curt, as if any more words would be a waste of her breath. 4 The moment she finished speaking, I glanced at the tablet. The comments were already flying. 【Didn’t they say family members from other professions? Why did the actress bring her actress sister?】 【Isn’t that against the rules? What was the production team thinking?】 【What do you think? Connections, obviously. Look at her, so full of herself.】 【Her sister Maya is so nice, though. How can they be so different?】 The host, a seasoned professional, clearly saw the feedback and quickly smoothed things over. “While both Stella and Maya are in the entertainment industry, one is an established, award-winning actress, and the other is a promising newcomer. They are at completely different stages of their careers, facing different challenges. In a way, they represent the ‘other side’ within the industry itself, don’t you think?” His explanation was flawless, temporarily quelling the online chatter. The microphone was then passed to Evan. He seemed a bit nervous, tightening his grip on Cobie’s hand. He briefly introduced himself as a singer and then looked lovingly at the girl beside him. “There’s been a lot of speculation about my personal life online, and I’ve never officially addressed it,” he began, his voice clear and steady. “Today, I want to take this opportunity to properly introduce someone. This is Cobie. Not only is she the brilliant lyricist behind many of my songs, but she’s also been my girlfriend for many years.” The studio erupted in cheers and applause. Cobie blushed but squeezed Evan’s hand and smiled at the camera. The comment section exploded. 【AHHHH! It’s official! My ship has sailed!】 【I KNEW IT! The lyrics were too sweet not to be written by a real couple!】 【Nooo, my man is taken… but I’m happy for them. They look so perfect together.】 【A real-life fairy tale. They’re meant to be!】 I watched them, a warmth spreading through my chest. It was a beautiful thing to see young people in love so openly. Finally, the host’s attention turned to Nora and me. “And last but not least, let’s welcome the incredibly popular action star, Nora, and her… very mysterious mother!” All eyes were on us. As the toughest and most daring actress of her generation, Nora had always been shrouded in mystery. She never spoke about her family, and her parents had never appeared in public. The speculation about us could fill a hundred-episode drama series. Nora took the microphone, her words as concise as ever. “Hello, everyone. I’m Nora. This is my mom, Sue.” The host smiled at me. “Hello, Sue. We are all so curious. With a daughter as amazing as Nora, we all want to know what kind of family raised her. What do you and Nora’s father do for a living?” I looked at the camera and spoke calmly. “Her father’s name is Walter. He’s a geologist who studies volcanic activity and is often abroad.” A small murmur of surprise went through the audience. Geologist—a profession that felt distant and foreign to most. I paused, then continued. “My name is Sue. I’m a craftsman. I create handmade items related to our country’s intangible cultural heritage.” 5 After I spoke, the studio was quiet for a few seconds. The live comments, however, went wild. 【A geologist? A cultural heritage craftsman? What kind of power couple is this?】 【One chases volcanoes, the other makes crafts… sounds like they’re never home.】 【No wonder Nora is so independent. She basically raised herself.】 【This is kind of sad. It’s like her parents live in their own worlds, and she had to fight her way through life alone. So tough.】 【So the rumors about her coming from a poor family are half-true? Not financially poor, but definitely lacking in parental love and attention.】 The host, a true pro, immediately seized on the emotional thread in the comments and moved to the next segment. “After hearing your introductions, I’ve noticed something interesting,” he said. “The influence of family on each person is so different. So, let’s talk about that. How has your family influenced your career path?” He once again gave the first question to Maya. Her story was well-known. She spoke candidly about growing up in a poor, single-parent household. She had entered the entertainment industry simply because a scout had noticed her looks, and it was a quick way to make money and improve their lives. “But it’s strange,” she said, her voice filled with nostalgia. “I started out just trying to survive, but when you truly immerse yourself in it, experiencing different lives and creating different characters, you slowly fall in love with it. Acting became the most important part of my life.” Her story was sincere and moving, and the comments were full of praise. 【A true self-made woman. She fought for everything she has.】 【Started for the money, but stayed for the love. That’s a career ‘marriage of convenience’ that turned into real love.】 【Her mom has remarried and is happy now, and Maya is successful. It’s a happy ending after a hard life.】 When it was Stella’s turn, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. She pouted, her tone dripping with superiority and resentment. “My sister had no choice back then. I’m different. I genuinely love acting. And I think I’m more talented than her. She just got an early start.” She lifted her chin and declared to the camera, “In the future, I’ll definitely be more successful than her. I’ll win more awards and become a true star.” The statement made the studio audience uncomfortable. Maya’s smile was strained. She patted her sister’s hand gently. “It’s good to have dreams. Just work hard.” The online comments were less forgiving. 【I can’t with her. What kind of thing is that to say?】 【She’s so ungrateful. Without her sister, she wouldn’t have any of the opportunities she has now.】 【Her emotional intelligence is zero. She’s embarrassing her sister on national television.】 【She really thinks she’s all that, completely oblivious to the fact that she’s standing on the shoulders of a giant.】 Stella clearly saw the live feedback. Her face flushed, and she opened her mouth to argue. Just as a sisterly fight was about to break out on live TV, the host deftly cut her off, swiftly turning the microphone to Nora, who had been silent all this time. The cameras followed, focusing on my daughter. “Nora!” the host’s voice was leading. “After hearing your mother’s introduction, everyone is even more curious about your upbringing. We all know that being an action star is incredibly difficult. Injuries are common, and many male actors can’t handle it, let alone a young woman. So, we’re all wondering, why did you choose this path?” He paused, his gaze sharp, and threw the question that had been brewing online for ages directly at her. “Many people believe that for a girl to be so tough, so willing to endure hardship, she must have come from a very difficult family, or lacked love and care growing up, forcing her onto this path as a way to prove herself. What do you have to say about that?” 6 In an instant, the air in the studio seemed to freeze. All the lights, all the cameras, all the gazes—sympathetic, speculative, curious—formed an invisible net around my daughter. Nora held the microphone, silent for a moment. Then she lifted her head, her eyes meeting the camera directly. There was no trace of self-pity, only a straightforward honesty. “Yes, the host is right,” she began, her voice clear and strong. “My choice to take this path is definitely related to my family.” A wave of murmurs swept through the audience. The live comments ignited. “Even though I’m their biological child,” she continued, her words deliberate and clear, “I always felt like an outsider in my own home.” “They were always telling me to get out, saying, ‘If you’re so capable, go fend for yourself.’” My eyelid twitched. This child… her memory was bad enough, but did she have to take everything so literally? Her words, however, were like a drop of water in a hot skillet. The comments exploded. The screen was flooded with messages like “I feel so bad for Nora,” “Hugs, queen,” and “What kind of garbage parents are these?” A flicker of excitement crossed the host’s face. He had found the show’s dramatic high point. He pushed the microphone closer to Nora, encouraging her to continue. And she didn’t disappoint. Seeming to gain momentum from his encouragement, she nodded eagerly. “Exactly! When I was a kid, I watched Jackie Chan Adventures, and I thought Jade was so cool—smart and a great fighter. I wanted to be just like her. I figured someone that awesome could definitely fend for herself and wouldn’t have to put up with anyone’s crap.” She started rambling, recounting what sounded like an inspiring backstory. “So I decided to find a master and learn real skills. Then no one could bully me or kick me out ever again. Now I’ve succeeded. I can support myself. Looking back, I don’t really hold any grudges.” She finished with a magnanimous smile, as if she were a queen who had risen above her past. The sympathy for her in the comments reached its peak. She was hailed as “a clear-headed queen” and “the epitome of an independent woman.” At the same time, the criticism aimed at my husband and me was relentless. 【They had a kid but didn’t raise her, or raised her poorly.】 【How do parents like that deserve such an amazing daughter?】 【I say cut them off. The queen should reign alone!】 The host turned the microphone to me at the perfect moment, his face a mask of concern and curiosity. “Sue, do you have anything to say in response to what Nora has shared? We all want to know what really happened.” I was at a loss for words. I looked at my daughter, who wore an expression that said, “I’m just telling the truth,” and couldn’t help but ask her, “Have you really forgotten?” Nora blinked, confused. “Forgotten what?” “The host is asking if there’s some hidden story,” I said, taking the microphone but ignoring his question. I looked directly at my daughter. “There’s no hidden story. I just want to help you remember why we told you to get out.” I paused, then delivered the first piece of evidence. “Do you remember the birthday present you gave me when you were eight? A bright green snake you said I could wear as a necklace. A pair of shiny cockroaches you said could be dried and worn as earrings. And a croaking toad you claimed was a singing music box.” A collective gasp went through the studio. Nora’s mouth hung slightly open as she tried to recall the memory. “When we told you to get out,” I continued, “we meant for you to get out with those ‘presents’ and not bring them in the house.” “And as for us telling you to ‘fend for yourself’… that was because you broke a mercury thermometer and were holding the mercury in your mouth like it was candy. When we caught you, you argued that you’d read in a book that mercury was a heavy metal, so it would keep you full. When we scolded you, you got upset and threatened to starve yourself. That’s when we said, ‘If you’re so capable, go fend for yourself.’” The atmosphere in the studio started to shift. I could hear suppressed laughter from the audience. “And then there was the time you said you missed your grandpa, so you went to dig up his grave in the middle of the night…” Before I could finish, Nora’s face turned bright red. “Mom!” So she did feel embarrassed. I ignored her and continued into the microphone. “We understood that you missed your grandpa. But you dug up the wrong grave. It was our neighbor, Mr. Henderson’s. When we found you, you were digging alongside the family dog. And you were digging faster than he was.”

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My handsome, rich boyfriend is mute—and I’m sure he doesn’t love me. He won’t speak or kiss me properly, and when I tease him in bed, he still refuses. Worse, he locks me in the basement monthly like a dark secret. Everything clicked when I heard a woman’s scream from his room, followed by violent slamming. I cried, then decided to leave. But stepping outside, the manor turned horrifying. Then, live comments appeared: 【Newbie in an SSS-rank instance?!】 【Why’s Bloody Mary chasing you?!】 【Alistair, stop twisting your OWN head!】 【Main BOSS ahead—she’s dead.】 I called Silas’s name—he sprouted wings and fled. 【BOSS just ran from a newbie?】 【Time for bed.】 1 After pinning Silas to the bed yet again, I swore to myself that this time, I would finally have him. I’d superglued the lock. I’d nailed the windows shut. I’d even reinforced the floorboards. I couldn’t imagine how he could possibly escape my grasp tonight. Silas propped himself up on his elbows, his usually immaculate black shirt now ripped open at the collar from my efforts. I impatiently bit down on his collarbone. His long lashes fluttered, and a deep blush crept across his face. “Please?” I whined, my voice syrupy sweet. “I promise I’ll be quick. Just once, I won’t be greedy!” Outside the door, the eavesdropping butler and head housekeeper let out a synchronized, thunderous cough. The sound jolted Silas from his haze of desire. Gently but firmly, he pushed me away, shaking his head to stop my advances. I was genuinely starting to get angry. “Silas, be honest with me,” I snapped. “Is it that you… you can’t?” He froze, a flicker of hurt and unspeakable grievance shimmering in his emerald-green eyes. With practiced ease, the butler burst through the door. “Miss Zoe, the staff have found signs of an intruder—an assassin. For your safety, would you mind spending the night in the safe room?” Again? This was the fifth time this month! Did these people think our home was some kind of tourist attraction? Alistair, the butler, had once explained that ever since Silas inherited his fortune and this manor from his scumbag father, his illegitimate half-brothers had been sending assassins every month to try and take him out. What was this, the Middle Ages? Well, obviously not. Silas was mixed-race, with sharp, sculpted features, porcelain skin, and a lean, powerful physique that was all muscle without being bulky. He’d captivated me from the very first glance. From what I could piece together, I’d been hiking, taken a fall, and they’d rescued me. The bad news: I had amnesia. The even worse news: after checking my phone, I discovered I was an orphan with no family to worry about me. And after a series of suspiciously convenient mishaps—my car breaking down, a sudden storm stranding my boat, a helicopter malfunction—I realized the universe was practically screaming at me to seize this opportunity. So, I stayed, my conscience perfectly clear. Silas couldn’t speak, but he had an incredible way of remembering my every whim. One day, I was looking at an illustration in a book and sighed, “How wonderful would it be to wake up to a sea of flowers every day?” The next morning, I opened my bedroom window, and the sprawling green lawn had been transformed overnight into a breathtaking expanse of crimson roses. The butler and the head housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, always watched me with warm, kind eyes. “Miss Zoe,” Alistair would say, “it’s been a very long time since the Master has smiled so happily.” “How long?” I’d asked. “Oh, several centuries, at least—” he’d begun with a chuckle. Mrs. Gable had swiftly clapped a hand over his mouth. “A figure of speech, my dear. Pay him no mind.” Silas gave me everything I could ever ask for, yet we rarely touched. We’d been together for a year, and he still wouldn’t take our relationship to the next level. Then again, I was the one who had relentlessly pursued him. Maybe he just didn’t like me that much. 2 Frustrated, I followed Alistair down to the basement. Silas had converted it into a massive home theater, fully stocked with everything you could want for entertainment, food, and drink. As Alistair watched, I sullenly put on a pair of headphones. “Do I really have to wear these? I’m not as fragile as you think. I’m not scared.” He adjusted his glasses, his smile gentle. “It can be quite terrifying, miss. The Master’s orders were absolute: you are not to be frightened.” “Fine.” “Don’t you worry,” he added. “Midnight will keep you company.” Midnight was a sleek black cat with a glossy coat who was incredibly affectionate with me. He was so smart that sometimes I got the eerie feeling he could understand human speech. Once Alistair left, I put on a horror movie, just like I always did. Midnight, curled up on my lap, was purring and yawning, fighting to stay awake for me. “Go on, go to sleep,” I whispered, stroking him and moving him to the cushion beside me. “I’ll play with the feather wand with you later.” He seemed especially tired today. With a soft meow, he was fast asleep. I was munching on chips and watching the movie when I reached for my drink and knocked the glass over. As I scrambled to clean up the mess, my headphones snagged on the corner of the table and slipped off. That’s when I heard it. A violent slamming sound from directly above. I froze. That was Silas’s bedroom! Was the fight really that intense? A surge of worry was immediately cut short by a woman’s high-pitched moan. Wait… do assassins make noises like that? It was followed by another round of rhythmic pounding, so forceful it felt like it was about to break through the thick floor. My mind instantly flooded with every cliché story about first loves and stand-in lovers. I cried for as long as the sounds from upstairs continued. I didn’t even dare to make a sound myself, afraid of waking Midnight. The fact that he slept through such a racket meant he must be used to it. Maybe the whole “assassin attack” story was a lie. After all, I’d never seen a single one. No wonder Silas wouldn’t get close to me. No wonder he had to hide me away. I was just his secret lover, a substitute for someone else, not even worthy of his touch. Sob. 3 I decided to end it. Alistair had locked the door, but he never would have guessed that I had a hidden key to open it from the inside. Choking back sobs, I walked up the stairs and stopped dead, rubbing my tear-blurred eyes. The manor, usually bathed in warm light, was plunged into darkness. I fumbled my way to the utility closet and found a flashlight. When I switched it on, the lavish, exquisite decor was gone. In its place was a scene of dilapidated decay, thick with a sinister chill. The peeling walls were smeared with one horrifying, bloody handprint after another, as if someone had been dragged away screaming. So there were signs of a fight. Maybe Silas wasn’t lying? Just as I was about to step forward, a series of glowing comments materialized in the air before me: 【Huh? A newbie? How is she still alive?】 【Hold on, did this new player break a cosmic law or something? How did she land in an SSS-rank instance on her first run?】 【It’s over, it’s over! The Head Housekeeper smelled her. This is too scary, I can’t watch!】 【She’s dead meat!】 The next second, the lights flickered on with a loud snap. Hiding behind a dusty shelf, I felt completely bewildered. The Head Housekeeper… did they mean the one I knew? “Hee hee, found you! Are you ready for me?” The voice had lost its usual steady tone, replaced by something… sleazy. But it was definitely her. I stepped out from my hiding spot. “Mrs. Gable, it’s me.” As the words left my mouth, we both froze. Her uniform was in tatters, she was holding a bloody axe, and her smile was literally stretched from ear to ear. I was horrified. “Who did this to you?” Mrs. Gable’s pupils constricted to pinpricks. Her hand trembled, and she dropped the axe with a clatter. “Miss Zoe, I… I…” Seeing her speechless, I started to walk toward her. But she let out a piercing shriek and, to my astonishment, turned and ran. 【???】 【Wait, Bloody Mary, the Head Housekeeper with the axe… why are you running from her?!】 【What happened to your ‘chop them in half’ power move? Who’s the real NPC here?!】 NPC? What was an NPC? I was about to follow her to get some answers when I heard another familiar voice from around the corner. “So, you managed to defeat the Head Housekeeper. You must have some fight in you. Your head will make a fine addition to my collection. Excited?” A dark shadow lunged toward me. I aimed the flashlight beam up from under my chin. “Alistair, it’s me.” He skidded to a halt right in front of me. His face, a ghastly shade of blue-black, turned pale with shock. I could even see beads of sweat on his forehead. My gaze dropped to his hand, where he was holding a freshly severed head. 【This is it! Go, Alistair, go!】 【She’s a goner now. The Butler doesn’t show mercy, hahaha.】 【Aren’t you the one who loves twisting people’s heads off for your collection? Get her! Wait… not your own head!!】 【Where did this newbie come from? Is she hacking or something???】 He twisted his own head off. I was so stunned that I rubbed my eyes. In that brief moment, he vanished, running for his life. Seriously? All I wanted to know was where Silas was! 4 I made my way toward Silas’s room. Creeeak— The sound of an old wooden door being pushed open by the wind echoed down the hall. The corridor was deathly silent, shrouded in an invisible gloom. 【THE BOSS IS HERE!!!】 I stared at the back of the figure—a figure I knew better than my own—and pondered for a moment. Learning from my previous encounters, I decided to approach without saying a word, lest I scare him off too. I took one step after another. The live comments were baffled. 【This newbie has some serious guts, walking right up to her own death.】 【My cringe-o-meter is off the charts. Her ancestors could kowtow until their heads bleed and they still couldn’t save her now.】 【I’m just here to see how she dies.】 【Hehe, this is gonna be good. Grab your popcorn, everyone!】 An aura of cold, ominous power radiated from Silas. I darted forward and grabbed his arm. “Silas, it’s me!” His body shuddered, turning as rigid as a statue. I lifted his hand. “Since when did you get your nails done?” WHOOSH— A pair of enormous black wings erupted from his back, the force of their unfurling making me shut my eyes. He used that moment to break free, stumbling as he launched himself out the window and into the night. The live comments froze for a second— 【Wow. Just… wow. Absolutely breathtaking.】 【Dude, what the…】 【LOL, the main BOSS just ran for his life from a new player. I think that’s my cue to go to bed.】 I stood there, dumbfounded. “Silas, you get back here!” Even an idiot would have figured out something was wrong by now. But I didn’t care! It wasn’t like he’d done anything morally bankrupt. He just wasn’t human. So what? I chased him down the stairs, only to be pulled into a room by a handsome man. He cupped my face in his hands, his expression ecstatic, as if gazing upon a long-lost treasure. “Zoe, it’s really you! Where have you been these past two years?” Uh, who are you? I tried to push his hands away, but he pulled me into a tight embrace. “As long as you’re alive, that’s all that matters. I’ll never leave you again.” The moment he finished speaking, an icy chill crept up my spine. The very walls and floor began to frost over. 【Holy crap, this is the first time I’ve ever seen the main BOSS get angry!】 5 My eyes were covered as I was led back to Silas’s room. Candles and incense were lit, and the familiar scent of roses filled the air. But all I could see was darkness. He had blindfolded me with a silk ribbon. And chained my hands and feet. These were the props I had planned to use on him! I was not happy. “Silas, I begged you to play these games with me before, and you refused! Now, just because of some strange man, you do this to me? I’m angry!” I huffed. “Was he the one you were really in love with all along?!” That made sense. Who said your one true love had to be a woman? The air went dead silent. Even blindfolded, I could feel the profound silence from both Silas and the live comments. I struggled against my restraints, but a grape-flavored candy was suddenly popped into my mouth. My favorite. I chewed thoughtfully, decided to forgive him for now, and waited with sneaky anticipation for what would happen next. And then… Nothing happened. Because Silas had used the opportunity to run away. Again. “Hey!” “Silas, get back here!” “Alistair!!! Mrs. Gable!!!” … After what felt like an eternity of shouting, the door creaked open. The sound of light footsteps approached me. “Shh, Zoe, don’t make a sound. It’s me.” I fell silent. His voice was laced with deep anger and sorrow. “I’ve been looking for you for so long. I never imagined you’d be imprisoned here by this demon.” He vowed, “Don’t worry, I’ll kill him and get you out of here!” He removed the blindfold. When his eyes met my blank, unfamiliar gaze, his expression faltered. “Zoe… you don’t remember me?” I nodded. “I have amnesia. I’ve forgotten everything. Who are you?” Hearing about my memory loss, he seemed to relax. “My name is Leo. We grew up together in an orphanage, we were all each other had. If things hadn’t gone wrong, we’d be married by now.” Lies. My phone wasn’t broken. According to my chat history, Leo had latched onto some wealthy heiress. He had repeatedly told me he only saw me as a sister and had warned me multiple times to get rid of any other ideas, all for her sake. I lowered my eyes. “Really?” Leo’s gaze fell to a bruise on my knee. His pupils contracted, and he gritted his teeth, looking away. “I’ll make the demon who hurt you suffer a very painful death!” Hurt me? I looked down. Oh, that was from when I’d accidentally bumped into a table. Leo produced a dagger carved from bone. “This is the only weapon that can kill Silas, the BOSS of this manor instance.” He pleaded, “Zoe, I need your help.” The live comments erupted. 【Holy shit, this player got insanely lucky! He found the ‘Matriarch’s Fang’! Is someone finally going to clear this instance?!】 【Legend says it was forged from the bones of Silas’s mother. Since Silas was born from pure malice, only this dagger can destroy him for good.】 【This Leo guy is insane. If he kills Silas, he’ll have enough points to top the player leaderboard!】 【The birth of a god-tier player! This is gonna be epic!!!】

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At a party, my asthma flared up. I fumbled for my emergency inhaler, but the canister was empty. My boyfriend, Jake, explained, “Aria said her throat was dry, so I gave it to her. Just have a cough drop. It’ll help.” But my breaths were becoming shallower, more desperate. “Her throat was dry? Couldn’t she just drink some water? What is wrong with you people? You’re going to kill me!” He frowned, his voice laced with annoyance. “Can you stop being so dramatic? You always act so fragile, like you’re made of glass or something. Aria was right. You’re just looking for attention.” I stopped arguing. I sent a text to my mother. Asthma attack. Jake took my inhaler. 1 Jake saw the notification pop up on my screen and sneered. “There you go again. Running to your mommy over every little thing. Are you five?” He snatched the phone from my hand, holding it high above my head, looking down on me with contempt. I tried to get it back, but as I stood, the world went black, and I collapsed back onto the sofa. “I’m having an asthma attack. Help me,” I gasped. Just then, Aria sauntered over, casually waving my inhaler. “Oh, sweetie, are you really having a hard time? You’re not just trying to get everyone’s attention, are you?” She let out a sigh. “This is why I hate having girls at our hangouts. So much drama.” I struggled to breathe, my eyes locked on her. She was Jake’s childhood best friend, one of those “cool girls” who was always one of the guys. Jake had mentioned her to me countless times, always praising her for being a “real one,” not like other girls. At first, I’d actually been looking forward to meeting her. When our relationship got serious, Jake introduced me to his friends. Aria always put on a big show of being a “girl’s girl.” “Wow, Jake, you hit the jackpot! Where’d you find this angel?” “Come on, gorgeous, let’s ditch these losers.” But underneath the compliments, I could feel the malice in her eyes whenever she looked at me. It was a subtle, insidious campaign. She praised me to my face, but her actions were designed to isolate me. She’d always bring up inside jokes and childhood memories at parties, conversations I couldn’t possibly join. Then, when I was sitting alone, she’d call me out with a breezy, dismissive laugh. “What’s wrong, sweetie? You’re not upset that I’m talking to Jake, are you?” I’d tried to explain to Jake how she made me feel, but he always brushed it off, calling me sensitive and saying Aria was just trying to be friendly. But now, her malice was out in the open, sharp and undisguised. “Poor little princess,” she taunted. “Are you upset we’re not all fawning over you? Is that why you’re faking sick?” A few of the guys snickered. “I’m not faking. I can’t breathe. Please, give me the inhaler.” My voice was getting weaker. The room went quiet for a beat, then erupted in even louder jeers. Aria draped an arm over Jake’s shoulders, a smirk on her face as she watched me struggle. “Wow, she’s really committed to the act. Don’t tell me you’re falling for it, Jake.” The others piled on. “Yeah, Jake, don’t turn into one of those whipped husbands.” “Don’t embarrass us, man! The man is the head of the house. If your woman steps out of line, you put her back in it.” Jake, of course, couldn’t stand being called out like that. He squared his jaw and refused to look at me. “Who’s falling for it? She needs to be taught a lesson. Always making a scene over nothing.” The air was being squeezed from my lungs. I reached for his sleeve, a desperate rasping sound escaping my throat. “Help… me…” He hesitated, a flicker of concern in his eyes. But then Aria spoke again. “Come on, Chloe. We’re all tough guys here. No one’s buying the damsel in distress routine.” I knew it was useless. I tried to stand, to escape the suffocating room, but Aria pushed me back down onto the sofa. “The party’s not over. Where do you think you’re going? That’s just rude.” Her grip was surprisingly strong. I lost my balance, and the back of my head slammed against the wall. A sharp thud echoed in my ears, and the world tilted. Before I could even react, Aria let out a theatrical gasp. 2 She covered her mouth, her eyes wide with mock horror. “Wow. You are really something else.” “I barely touched you, and you slammed your own head against the wall just to frame me. That’s next-level manipulative.” Jake’s expression hardened, his gaze turning to ice. “Chloe, that’s enough.” I bit my lip, trying to fight through the fog of pain and oxygen deprivation. “I have severe asthma. If you don’t want a dead body on your hands, you’ll stop this right now.” Every breath was like inhaling shards of glass. Aria just dangled the inhaler in front of my face, then took a long, dramatic puff. “Can’t. My throat is dry,” she said with a shrug. “You know, for something so expensive, it really does work wonders.” I lunged for it, but she just laughed and held it out of reach. “Nope. Not for you.” My vision swam with black spots. Jake stood by, arms crossed. “Look at yourself. You’re pathetic. Aria’s just using it. Stop being so selfish.” “She saw your medical report, Chloe. You don’t have asthma. You just get a little short of breath sometimes.” I forced myself to stay calm. “Jake, you’ve seen me have an attack before. Why would I lie about this?” Before he could answer, Aria cut in. “For attention, obviously. It’s what girls like you do. Faking illnesses for sympathy.” She leaned in closer, a cruel glint in her eyes. “Let me guess, you also have depression, right? Just like all the other little princesses on the internet.” The guys roared with laughter. Someone whistled. “Man, Jake, your girlfriend is so high-maintenance. Aria’s way cooler.” “Yeah, dude, you’re in for a rough ride if you marry this one.” I gasped for air, making one last, desperate grab for the inhaler. My fingertips brushed against the plastic, but she snatched it away. I lost my balance and fell to the carpet. “Wow, what a performance!” Aria exclaimed. Then she knelt down, her voice a venomous whisper only I could hear. “Just die already. It’ll make things so much easier for me and Jake.” She stood up, her voice ringing out for everyone to hear. “Chloe, stop messing around and get up! We’re all waiting to do shots with you and Jake!” Something in my appearance must have finally broken through Jake’s bravado. He stepped forward and helped me up. “What’s going on with you? Are you really not feeling well?” “Help… me…” I managed to choke out, my grip on his wrist weak. “In…haler…” His brow furrowed, a genuine flicker of panic finally appearing in his eyes. He looked at Aria. “Aria, maybe you should just give it to her.” Her face fell. She clutched the inhaler behind her back like a petulant child. “Jake, are you blind? She’s faking! Have you forgotten what a spoiled brat she can be?” She turned to the others. “See? This is what these manipulative girls do. And he’s falling for it.” The guys immediately backed her up. “Dude, Aria grew up with us. She wouldn’t mess with you.” “These rich girls are all the same. Always looking for drama. You can’t let her walk all over you.” Jake’s expression shifted. His grip on my arm loosened. I could feel him wavering, caught between my obvious distress and his friends’ taunts. “But… her face is really pale…” 3 His gaze fell on my bloodless lips. Aria smacked her forehead. “Oh! Right! I saw her in the bathroom earlier. She was grabbing a pad. She’s probably just got cramps.” She turned to me, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Chloe, if you have cramps, just say so. Why lie about having an asthma attack? You’re making Jake worry for no reason.” At her words, Jake visibly relaxed. The concern in his eyes was replaced with stern disapproval. “You can’t joke about things like that, Chloe. You scared me.” I had no strength left to argue. The only reason I was still conscious was the preventative medication I’d taken before leaving the house. If not for that, I’d already be dead. Aria, hiding behind Jake, shot me a triumphant smirk. She pulled a small tin from her purse. “Here, have a throat lozenge. It’ll help.” She forced it into my mouth before I could protest. The minty flavor burned my already raw throat, making the pain even worse. I tried to spit it out, but she clamped her hand over my jaw. “Swallow it! What is wrong with you? See? You’re just faking it for sympathy.” Only when I started to dry heave did she let go. She turned to Jake. “See? She won’t even take it. What more proof do you need?” Jake looked from me to the half-dissolved lozenge on the floor. The last trace of worry vanished, replaced by pure irritation. I was just overreacting. Being dramatic. He sighed heavily and shoved me back onto the sofa. My back hit the armrest, and I gasped in pain. “Alright, that’s enough. Don’t do this again.” “But… I…” I tried to speak, but only a choked gasp came out. Aria patted Jake’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go have a drink. If we ignore her, she’ll get over it.” Jake nodded. As he walked away, he gave me one last look, not of concern, but of utter annoyance. “Just behave,” he snapped. “Stop embarrassing me.” The crowd dispersed, leaving me curled in the corner as they all went back to their drinks. I watched, my vision blurring, as they cheered and egged Jake and Aria on to do a “couple’s shot.” “Do it! Do it!” “Don’t be a buzzkill!” “It’s just a game! Your girlfriend can’t be that petty, can she?” Through the haze, I saw Jake glance over at me. Then he wrapped his arm around Aria and kissed her. The last bit of air in my lungs vanished. I really couldn’t breathe now. My phone lay on the floor where Jake had thrown it, but I didn’t even have the strength to crawl to it. Just as despair set in, I remembered: I might have a spare asthma pill in my purse. With my last ounce of strength, I fumbled for my bag. My fingers brushed against the zipper, and my heart leaped. I clawed at it, dragging it closer. The opening was just within reach. I tipped it over, and a single pill rolled out onto the carpet. That’s it! It was just an emergency extended-release tablet, not as fast-acting as the inhaler, but it would buy me some time. Tears of relief streamed down my face. But as I reached for it, my fingers just inches away, a stiletto heel slammed down on top of it. 4 The heel ground the pill into the carpet, again and again. It was Aria. She smiled down at me, twisting her foot. “Oops. Almost got your medicine, didn’t you?” A hot rush of rage surged through me. “Get off! I’ll kill you! My mother will make you pay for this!” The suffocation was overwhelming. After that last outburst, I collapsed back onto the sofa, a trapped animal on the verge of death. “Hehe. I love watching you squirm,” she cooed, kneeling down and poking my cheek with a long, manicured fingernail. “You deserve this. You should have never tried to take what’s mine. Jake belongs to me. Even if I don’t want him, he’s not for you.” She grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked. “Now, you can die.” Scalding pain shot through my scalp. I tried to fight back, but I couldn’t even lift my hand. “I’m… Ms. Ashford’s…” Through my blurry vision, Aria’s face was a grotesque mask. She cut me off. “Jake’s busy drinking,” she whispered, her voice sickly sweet. “He’s not thinking about you. If you died right now, do you think he’d even be sad?” I tried to bite her, but she easily dodged me. She stood up and patted my cheek, then called out to Jake. “Jake, come look! Chloe’s throwing another tantrum!” He came over, his brow furrowed even deeper. “What is it now? It’s just cramps. Stop acting like you’re dying. Every woman gets them.” “I… I really… have…” My voice was a thread. “Asthma…” He glanced from my pale face to Aria, who just shrugged helplessly. He fixed his gaze on me, his eyes filled with disappointment. “Chloe, I’ve had enough of this. If you keep this up, we’re done.” He turned and walked away. Aria scurried after him, shooting me a triumphant ‘V’ sign over her shoulder. My lungs felt like a deflating balloon, every breath a tearing agony. The black spots in my vision were multiplying. Aria’s face swam in and out of focus, a demonic figure from a nightmare. My eyelids were so heavy. Across the room, the group was cheering for her. In my peripheral vision, I saw Jake clinking glasses with his friends. Aria, pretending to be drunk, leaned against him. He didn’t push her away. He tightened his arm around her waist. “Jake…” I called out, my voice barely a whisper. He glanced over, as if by instinct. Aria immediately leaned in and whispered something in his ear. He frowned and shook his head, annoyed. In that moment, the last bit of warmth in my heart died. I slowly closed my eyes. I regretted everything. Why did I ever get involved with him? Jake was just a poor kid from a working-class family. My mother was a billionaire CEO. I had never told him, afraid he’d feel insecure. He thought my family was just a little better off than his. Aria came back. She knelt in front of me. “I hear you come from a single-parent home. If you die, your mom will be devastated, won’t she?” “But don’t worry. Jake can handle the funeral arrangements, as your grieving fiancé. Maybe your mom will be so touched, she’ll just hand over the family fortune to him…” She was delusional. But before she could finish her little fantasy, the door to the room burst open. “Chloe!” It was my mother’s voice.

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While I was walking Caramel, he darted off with a confident sense of purpose, making a beeline for the 22nd floor of the building next to ours. He stopped at apartment 2201, his tail wagging furiously. I was still trying to process it when the door opened. A pretty girl in slippers appeared. She knelt and joyfully ruffled Caramel’s fur, then looked up at me. “You must be the courier. Just tell Leo I’ll take good care of his dog.” She turned back to the golden retriever. “Come on, sweetie. Mommy’s making you a venison salad today.” Leo is my husband. Caramel is the dog we’ve raised for three years. It turns out that during the six months I was away on business, Leo found a new mommy for our dog. 1 I had just gotten back from a six-month work assignment overseas, the jet lag still clinging to me like a heavy shroud, when Caramel insisted on his walk. He’s a three-year-old Golden Retriever, usually gentle, but with a surprising amount of strength. Right now, he was practically vibrating with excitement, dragging me forward, and confidently veering towards the building next to ours. I was a little confused. We live in building 11, but Caramel was pulling me into the elevator of building 12. The elevator ascended to the 22nd floor. The second the doors opened, Caramel bolted down the hallway to 2201, propping his front paws on the door, his tail a high-speed propeller. My mind was a complete blank, the leash nearly slipping from my grasp. What was going on? Why was Caramel so familiar with this apartment? As I stood there, bewildered, the door clicked open. A pretty girl stood in the doorway. “Caramel! Did you miss me?” she cooed, crouching down to affectionately rub his big, fluffy head, completely ignoring my presence. Caramel licked her face enthusiastically, whining with contentment. The display of affection was more intense than any greeting he ever gave me, his actual owner. My heart began to sink, stone by heavy stone. The girl finally straightened up, her eyes landing on me with an air of casual authority. “You’re the courier, right? Thanks for this.” She gestured towards Caramel. “Tell Leo I’ll take good care of his dog. Oh, and he’s already paid, right?” She turned to Caramel. “Come on, sweetie. Mommy’s making you a venison salad today.” Leo…? Leo. My husband. A buzzing filled my head, and my limbs went numb. But some shred of rationality stopped me from exploding, urging me to confirm it wasn’t some bizarre misunderstanding. “Leo is—” “My boyfriend. Didn’t he ask you to bring Caramel over?” she said. Seeing my hesitation, her smile faded, replaced by a flicker of impatience. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you hear me? Give him to me.” She reached for the leash, which I was gripping with white knuckles. So, this was it. While I was working my ass off halfway across the world to build a future for us, my husband hadn’t just cheated; he had thoughtfully found a new mother for our dog. How utterly ridiculous. His mistress thought I was a delivery service. I looked at Caramel, who was now fawning over her, and a wave of icy coldness washed over the initial pain. I didn’t scream. I didn’t demand answers. Instead, I slowly, deliberately, pulled my lips into a smile and loosened my grip on the leash. “Of course,” I said, my voice steady. “Mr. Knight’s instructions were to deliver him directly to you.” The girl took the leash, satisfied, and casually shut the door. Just as it closed, I heard her say, “Good boy. Mommy will get you your treat right now.” I stood in front of apartment 2201 for a long, long time. The elevator doors opened and closed several times before I finally turned and walked back to my own home. The apartment was spotless. Leo’s perfectly ironed shirts hung on the balcony. Everything was just as neat as when I had left six months ago. But there was something else in the air. The faint, unfamiliar scent of perfume. It was the exact same scent the girl at the door had been wearing. If I hadn’t decided on a whim to fly halfway across the world to surprise him, I never would have discovered any of this. 2 At seven o’clock that evening, Leo came home right on time. As usual, he changed his shoes in the entryway. When he saw me, he froze, a flash of panic in his eyes. But he recovered quickly, breaking into a wide smile. “Vivi! You’re back! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have picked you up from the airport.” He opened his arms, moving in for a hug. I fought back a wave of nausea and sidestepped the embrace, not wanting to start the fight just yet. I calmly explained that my project had wrapped up early. He feigned concern, stroking my cheek. “You’ve lost weight. It must have been tough out there. But you’re back now, that’s all that matters. I’ll make all your favorites to fatten you up. What are you craving? Steak, shrimp scampi, a nice risotto?” He was really getting into his role as the perfect, doting husband, already pulling out his phone to order groceries. I gently pushed him away, my voice deliberately casual. “We can figure that out later. Where’s Caramel? Where’s our boy?” It had been our agreement. We weren’t having children; Caramel was our child. Leo paused. A flicker of confusion crossed his face. He was right to be confused. Usually, Caramel would be all over him the second he walked in, begging for attention. “We should call the police,” I said, my voice tight with manufactured panic. “The front door was unlocked when I got here, and Caramel was gone! Someone must have stolen him! Or… or he opened the door himself.” It was possible. Our dog was exceptionally smart. He knew how to open doors and even press elevator buttons. I was certain that if I hadn’t come home today, Caramel would have eventually gotten bored and let himself out to visit his new mommy. The smile on Leo’s face vanished. “He’s really gone? Have you looked for him?” he asked, his tone urgent. I shook my head. “Instead of the police, let’s just ask security to check the cameras. The guards all know our dog; they wouldn’t let a stranger take him out of the complex. He’s probably still around here somewhere.” I watched his face, dissecting every micro-expression. Leo’s brow furrowed. He pulled out his phone, his thumb flying across the screen as he typed a message. A few seconds later, he seemed to relax. “You’re right,” he said, looking up at me. “I just contacted security. They said they’ve already found him. You must be exhausted from your flight. Why don’t you go take a shower and rest? I’ll go get our son back.” He was a phenomenal actor. That text message, I knew, had gone straight to apartment 2201. To Lila. He must have asked her if Caramel had shown up there. Lila, likely unaware of my existence, probably thought some good Samaritan had found him and brought him to her. It didn’t matter if their stories didn’t line up. I was done playing the role of the devoted wife. As soon as he was out the door, I would find the proof I needed, and then he could get the hell out of my life. I followed his suggestion, letting a note of weary relief enter my voice. “Okay. Please hurry back. I’m so worried about him.” “Don’t worry,” he said, grabbing his car keys and rushing out. The moment the elevator doors closed, I walked into his study. His computer was password-protected, but it also had facial recognition. My face. It unlocked instantly. I didn’t bother with his social media; a meticulous cheater wouldn’t leave such obvious evidence. I opened his cloud drive. Everything was neatly organized: work files, family photos, and one encrypted folder named “My Treasure.” My heart began to pound. What was the password? I tried my birthday. Incorrect. Our anniversary. Incorrect. Caramel’s birthday. Still incorrect. I stared at the folder, and then a cold realization dawned on me. I typed in the number from the girl’s door this afternoon: 2201. The folder opened. 3 There were no sordid photos or videos inside. That wasn’t Leo’s style. He had a pretentious, artsy streak and liked to think of himself as a man of class. Instead, the folder was filled with documents, named by date. I clicked on the earliest one, dated five months ago—exactly one month after I had left for my trip. April 12th. Rain. I met her today. She was like a fawn, lost and pure, with the clearest eyes and the warmest smile. She said her name was Lila, gentle like a late evening breeze. I think my heart stopped. April 25th. Sunny. Lila found out I love the mousse from that bakery on the west side and stood in line for two hours to get it for me. With Vivi, I’m always the one making compromises. She prefers bland, healthy food and never touches anything sweet. But I love sweets. I never knew how wonderful it felt to have someone cater to me. May 20th. To thank her, I took Lila to that hilltop restaurant we used to go to. She was so surprised and happy. I told her it was a place I used for business meetings. Seeing the trust in her eyes, I felt a pang of guilt, but it was overshadowed by a secret thrill. Vivi always said that place was overpriced and the food was mediocre. She never understood that you don’t go there for the food; you go there to share a perfect view with the person you love. Vivi doesn’t get me. But Lila does. … My face was a mask of stone as I scrolled, page after page. These weren’t diary entries. They were justifications. Excuses he was writing to rationalize and even romanticize his affair. In his narrative, I was the demanding, boring, workaholic wife with no zest for life. And this girl, Lila, was the muse sent to rescue him from the drudgery of our marriage. He twisted every mundane aspect of our three years together into a fault of mine. Me ironing his shirts so he looked sharp and professional? That was me being a controlling perfectionist. Me reminding him to drink less for his health? That was me being overbearing. Me working hard to build a better future for us? In his eyes, that made me a “career woman who obviously didn’t need him.” The logic was laughable. But the entry that truly chilled me to the bone was about Caramel. July 8th. Lila said she loves Caramel and wants to raise him. I brought him over to her place. She renamed him ‘Sweetie.’ Seeing how much he adored her, I suddenly realized this is the life Caramel should have. Vivi loves him, I guess, but she’s too busy. She never has enough time for him. Lila is different. She has all the time in the world to play with him, cook him nutritious meals, and spoil him like the child he is. It was just as I suspected. He hadn’t just betrayed me. He had betrayed our promise. He had personally handed our “son” over to another woman. I closed the document. The roiling nausea in my stomach finally subsided, replaced by a cold, dead silence. Leo was home. 4 I sat in the living room in complete darkness. Leo came in with Caramel on the leash, eager to show off. “See, Vivi? I found him!” He handed the leash to me, his tone light. “I told you he was a smart boy. He didn’t go far. He was just sniffing around the garden next door, probably trying to make new friends.” The lie rolled off his tongue so naturally, as if he’d rehearsed it a thousand times. Caramel, as if sensing he’d done something wrong, nudged my leg and whimpered apologetically. I looked at the two of them, the man and the dog, and suddenly, the whole charade felt pointless. Just then, the doorbell rang. Leo’s body tensed for a fraction of a second before he smoothed over his expression and walked to the door. “Who could that be at this hour?” Standing outside, of course, was Lila. She had changed out of her slippers and was now wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans, her long hair tied back in a ponytail. She looked so young, so innocent. Her eyes lit up when she saw Leo, but then she seemed to remember herself, her gaze shifting past him to land on me. “It’s you—” she started, her brow furrowing in confusion. Leo was frantically trying to signal her to leave, but she either didn’t see or chose to ignore him. “Leo… oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Knight,” she said, playfully sticking her tongue out. Then she looked past him, her face a mask of concern. “I thought I heard a dog barking downstairs and I got worried it might be Sweetie… I mean, your dog. I’m so relieved to see he’s back safe and sound.” Her little speech was dripping with implications. Anyone could tell they were more than just acquaintances. Leo, clearly annoyed by her little performance, was trying to laugh it off when our “son” betrayed him. The moment Caramel saw her, he bounded over, whining with excitement and circling her legs. Lila seized the opportunity, crouching down and expertly wrapping her arms around his neck, nuzzling his fur. Her voice was sickly sweet. “Sweetie, you naughty boy! You can’t just run off without telling Mommy! You scared me to death!” The words hung in the air. She gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth as if she’d just made a terrible mistake. Her large eyes glistened as she looked at me. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, ma’am!” She scrambled to her feet, wringing her hands. “I… I’m just so used to helping Mr. Knight look after him, I guess I started joking around, calling myself his mommy… You look so beautiful and elegant, I can tell you’re a very understanding person. You won’t be offended by my silly joke, will you?” She called me “ma’am” with such deference, but every word was a poisoned dart aimed straight at my heart. She was a master of her craft. Leo stood by, his expression a mixture of panic and embarrassment. I looked from one to the other, and then I smiled. I walked over, gently but firmly took the leash from Lila’s hand, and stroked Caramel’s head. My voice was calm and clear. “It’s okay. I’m not offended.” Then I looked up, my gaze sweeping over Leo and Lila, my smile widening. “But a word of advice, young lady. You should be more careful with your ‘jokes’ in the future. Not everyone is as understanding as I am. After all, calling another woman’s husband by his first name and her dog your son… well, it doesn’t reflect well on you, does it?” They both stared at me, stunned into silence. I pulled out my phone and, right in front of them, made a call. “Hello, Ms. Davis? It’s Vivian Scott.” I watched the color drain from Leo’s face, my smile turning colder. “I’m filing for divorce. Yes, division of assets. He’s the at-fault party. I want at least seventy percent.”

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Eight years of marriage, and it all came down to this. My husband, Leo, brought his old flame—dying of cancer, he claimed—into our home, right over my objections. “You venomous bitch,” he snarled, his face twisted with disgust. “You don’t have an ounce of compassion. You’re not worth a single strand of Luna’s hair!” My own son, Caleb, chimed in, his little face a mirror of his father’s fury. “If you don’t let Auntie Luna in, you’re not my mom anymore!” That was it. My heart, already fractured, shattered completely. I filed for divorce and walked away, accepting an invitation to reclaim my place at the pinnacle of the design world. But then, when they saw the forged cancer diagnosis, their world came crashing down. “Sophie, my love, she tricked me! It’s always been you!” “Mommy, don’t you want your Caleb anymore? I’m your only son!” I didn’t even spare them a glance. Get these stray dogs out of my way. They’re blocking my path to the stage. … “Luna’s condition is getting worse. I’ve decided to bring her here, where I can take care of her.” My gaze fell from Leo’s determined face to the document he’d placed on the dining table, a stark contrast to the steaming, lovingly prepared dishes. It was a cancer diagnosis. This was his eighth wedding anniversary gift to me. Seeing the color drain from my face, Luna sagged against him, her voice a fragile whisper. “Leo, maybe we shouldn’t. It looks like Sophie doesn’t want me here.” She let out a sigh that sounded like a final breath. “Besides, I’m dying anyway. Just let me go.” “Don’t say that, Luna. You’re going to be fine,” Leo soothed, before turning his rage on me. “Sophie, are you even human?! You can’t tolerate a sick woman in your house? You’re so cold-hearted. What kind of example is that for Caleb?” On cue, Caleb began pummeling my leg with his small fists. “You’re mean! If you don’t let the pretty auntie stay, I don’t want you as my mom anymore!” The hot soup on the table grew cold, just like my heart. The two of them, father and son, with their strikingly similar faces, stood united in their righteous condemnation of me. One was the man I had loved for eight years. The other, the child I had raised for seven. Through all of Leo’s countless nights away from home, Caleb had been my last anchor, the one reason I held on. There was a time when he would clutch my hand and call me ‘Mommy’ in the sweetest voice imaginable. Now, for the sake of another woman, he was disowning me. In that instant, disappointment eclipsed all anger. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I turned to go to my room, to escape. But Leo’s voice stopped me. “Sophie. Luna is sick. She needs the master bedroom.” He didn’t even look at me. “Pack your things. You can move into the attic.” I took a deep, shuddering breath, walked into my—no, our—bedroom, and with trembling hands, dialed a number I knew by heart. “Jenna? I’ll take the job. I’m coming back.” The voice on the other end was ecstatic. “Seriously? Sophie, you finally came to your senses! When you gave up your career for that family, the entire design world mourned! I’ll get everything ready for you right now!” I managed a hollow “Okay,” and booked a flight for next month. Jenna was so thrilled she posted about it on her social media feed. And right below her post, I saw one from Leo. His username was ThroughTheCloudsToTheMoon. He once told me it was about finding me, his ray of light. But now, seeing Luna, I finally understood. The ‘moon’ was always her. The post was a picture of him and Caleb at a dessert cafe with Luna that afternoon. The caption read: Sweet treats with my sweet girl. But Leo and Caleb hated sweets. Luna’s dazzling, triumphant smile in the photo was a knife in my eye. It was never about the sweets. It was about who they were sharing them with. And that person was never me. A comment below caught my eye: Leo, my man, aren’t you worried your wife will see this? Leo’s reply was three simple words. She wouldn’t dare. And he was right. I hadn’t dared. I’d believed him when he swore he would love me forever, and I’d thrown away my career without a second thought. I’d been the perfect, supportive wife for eight long years. Now, without my husband and my son, I had nothing. The world spun around me. Just then, Leo walked in and handed me a small cake box. “Here. I remember you used to love strawberry.” The cake was old. The single strawberry on top had already sunk into the collapsing cream. What was this? Luna’s leftovers? My hand shot out, and I threw the entire box into the trash can. Leo’s face darkened with rage. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sophie?!” he gritted out. “Just taking out the trash.” His fury intensified. “I actually remembered it was our anniversary and went out of my way to get you something, and this is how you act? You’re so ungrateful!” “You’re right! I am ungrateful! And from now on, for everything you buy me, I’ll throw one away!” He raised his fist. For a second, I thought he would hit me, but instead, he brought it down with full force on our wedding photo hanging on the wall. The frame shattered, falling to the floor in a cascade of glass and wood as he stormed out. I knelt, silently picking up the pieces. And there, among the wreckage of our life together, I saw it. In the photo, my crying face looked just like hers. About seventy percent, I’d say. I stopped cleaning. I picked up the photograph of us and tore it in half, then again, and again, until it was nothing but confetti in my hands. The next morning, Leo was up at the crack of dawn. For the first time in eight years, he cooked breakfast himself. A whole spread. Luna sat at the table, beaming. “Oh, Leo, you’re too good to me.” “Silly girl, who else would I be good to? I made your favorite shrimp scampi. You’re weak, you need to eat up.” “Yeah, pretty auntie, eat this! It’s yummy!” Caleb chimed in, pushing a piece of shrimp toward her. The three of them were a perfect family portrait. I was the intruder. When I sat down, Leo cleared his throat. “I made shrimp scampi. Have some.” “Yes, you have to try it! Leo’s is the best!” Luna said, placing a generous portion in my bowl. Without a word, I stood up and scraped the contents of my bowl into the trash. Luna’s eyes immediately welled with tears. “Sophie… even if you have a problem with me, you shouldn’t waste Leo’s effort like this.” The sight of her tears sent Leo into a protective rage. He slammed his hand on the table. “Sophie, I let it slide last night, but what’s with the death glare this morning? Who are you trying to impress? Can you just stop with the drama?!” “I have an ulcer,” I said, my voice flat. “I can’t eat seafood. Don’t you remember?” Leo froze. When Caleb was a toddler, he was a fussy, difficult child. My eating schedule was a mess from taking care of him around the clock, and over time, I developed a stomach condition. He probably didn’t remember. He’d probably forgotten all the times he’d painstakingly picked every single piece of shrimp off my pizza for me. Luna blinked her big, innocent eyes. “Oh, an ulcer is no big deal. I’d take my stomach pills and eat every last bite of something you cooked just for me, Leo.” Caleb, ever the loyal sidekick, added with a sneer, “Yeah! Pretty auntie isn’t a crybaby like some people!” Leo’s moment of hesitation vanished, replaced by an adoring smile. “Alright, alright, you little troublemaker. I know you appreciate it. But you need to take care of yourself. Your body can’t handle that right now.” I had no desire to watch another scene of their twisted melodrama. I dropped my fork. “Then you’d better eat it all. Don’t leave a single scrap.” Back in my room—the attic—I threw myself back into my work. Eight years away from the design world had left me rusty. But the sounds of laughter and chatter from downstairs made it impossible to concentrate. I heard Luna’s sweet voice ask, “Caleb, what do you think of your mom?” “She’s so annoying! Always nagging me, and she dresses like a hobo. And she never lets me have any snacks!” Luna giggled. “And what about me?” “You take me out to have fun and buy me yummy food! You’re the best.” “So… would you like me to be your godmother?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Caleb’s sweet voice rang out, “Godmommy!” A chill colder than any winter’s night seeped into my bones. Caleb had been born with a weak constitution, requiring more care than a normal child. Leo was always too busy with work to help, so for years, I’d poured my entire life into raising him. And now, in his heart, I was worth less than a stranger who bought him junk food. The pitter-patter of rain against the window pulled me from my thoughts. It was raining. I remembered the flowers I’d left on the balcony. I rushed out to bring them in, but it was too late. They’d been viciously torn apart, the petals scattered and trampled. Before I could even process the loss, I heard a sharp click. The balcony door had been locked from the inside. “Caleb, open the door!” I yelled, pounding on the glass. Through the rain-streaked pane, I saw him beckoning to Luna. “Godmommy, come look at the drowned rat!” Luna just smiled and patted his head. “You little rascal. Come on, I’ll take you out for some snacks.” “Yay!” He completely ignored my cries, skipping off hand-in-hand with Luna. Lightning split the sky, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. I curled into a ball in the corner of the balcony, a profound cold settling deep within me, chilling me to the very soul. It wasn’t until the last petal had been washed away that Leo finally let me out. Under the harsh glare of the indoor lights, I must have looked like a ghost. My face was a ghostly white, my hair plastered to my skin. Luna covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh my, Sophie! What happened to you?” Caleb hid behind her, pulling faces at me. Leo, after hearing the story, just frowned. “Sophie, you’re a grown woman. How do you get yourself locked on the balcony? Be more careful next time.” I said nothing. I lunged for Caleb. Leo reacted instantly, shoving me back. “What are you doing? Are you going to pick a fight with a child now?” “He’s just a kid, he doesn’t know any better! Don’t you?” The push sent me stumbling, and I fell to the floor in a heap. It was utterly humiliating. Caleb burst out laughing. In this twisted trial, I, the victim, had somehow become the sole defendant. I looked at them, at my husband and son, and a laugh bubbled up, bitter and broken. Then another. I pushed myself to my feet and walked toward them, my face a mask of cold fury. They must have thought I was coming to beg for forgiveness. Smirks of cruel amusement played on their lips. CRACK— CRACK— I slapped them both, one after the other. Caleb’s eyes went wide. He clutched his cheek and ran to Luna, wailing. “I hate you! You’re a bad mommy! You’re a wicked witch! No wonder nobody wants you!” Leo was breathless with rage, his chest heaving as he stared at me. Luna, ever the peacemaker, stepped in, grabbing Leo’s arm. “Sophie, Caleb is just a child! How could you, his own mother—” CRACK— “Shut up.” I’d been wanting to do that for a long time. At the third slap, Luna’s eyes rolled back and she collapsed dramatically. The shock of it even made Caleb stop crying. Leo, in a blind panic, scooped her into his arms and rushed for the door. Before leaving, he threw a final threat over his shoulder. “If Luna’s condition gets worse, I’ll make you pay!” He must have been afraid I’d take my anger out on Caleb, because he dragged the boy along with him. Good. Let them all leave. Finally, some quiet.

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After a wedding three months in the planning, one night was all it took for me to decide on a divorce. The reason was simple: my new husband, Gary, transferred a thousand dollars to my account before we went to bed. Then, in the middle of the night, another two thousand appeared. The memo on the second transfer read: “Final Payment.” I couldn’t stomach it. The next morning, I announced my intention to divorce him right in front of his parents. My new in-laws, their hands still outstretched with wedding gifts, were stunned into silence. Gary slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet, pointing a trembling finger at my face. “I sent you that money because I care about you! What is this drama now?” My voice was ice. “I’d love to know in what world ‘caring’ for someone involves splitting a payment into a deposit and a final installment.” 1 “Audrey Vance!” Gary’s voice was a mixture of fury and disbelief. “We just got married! Are you trying to start a power struggle on day one? Isn’t it a little soon for that?” “I’ll have the papers drawn up by noon,” I said, my tone flat, refusing to engage with his tantrum. “I’ll come find you then. We should go to the courthouse as soon as they’re signed.” Without another word, I turned and walked out. My mother-in-law’s hand, still holding a gift, was frozen in mid-air. My father-in-law just looked bewildered, completely lost as to what could have possibly imploded between us in a single night. Gary himself was momentarily stunned. He clearly hadn’t expected my resolve to be this absolute, this unshakeable. I had my lawyer draft the divorce agreement with lightning speed and took it directly to his office at Cross Enterprises. As I stepped out of the elevator, I saw his parents waiting for me outside his office. He had obviously called them, hoping they could talk me down. I ignored them and walked straight toward the door. But Gary’s secretary, Lily Marsh, stepped into my path. “Mrs. Cross, Gary is in a meeting. No one is allowed to disturb him.” Her voice was professionally polite, but her eyes held a different story. “And he told me what happened. You asking for a divorce on the first day… Audrey, as a fellow woman, I’m advising you to know when to quit.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t forget how good he’s been to you. You wanted to see the Northern Lights, and he dropped everything to fly around the world with you. You mentioned off-hand that you didn’t feel like cooking, and he took a three-month culinary course. A man like that is a unicorn. If you keep this up, you’ll find yourself in a mess you can’t get out of.” Her words, especially “asking for a divorce,” were just loud enough to draw the attention of nearby employees. They began to drift closer, chiming in. “Lily’s right. Mr. Cross turned down a multi-million dollar deal just to be with you. That’s how much he loves you.” “Exactly, Mrs. Cross. Don’t mind us saying so, but he’s a rare find. You should treasure him!” Just as their chorus of unsolicited advice reached its peak, the office door swung open. Gary emerged, giving Lily a grateful look. She responded with a knowing, gentle smile. He then turned to me, his expression a mask of sincerity, and took my hands in his. “Audrey, I know you’ve always been so supportive and understanding of everything I do. Is this because I didn’t send the money all at once? Did it lack a sense of ceremony? Is that why you feel hurt?” He squeezed my hands. “Or is there something else I don’t know? Please, just tell me, and we can fix it together. Okay?” His parents moved through the small crowd to join him. “He’s right, Audrey,” his father said gently. “I don’t know what happened between you two last night, but I’m sure it was something small. Can’t you just talk it through?” “Did this boy do something to upset you?” his mother added, her tone warm and placating. “Don’t you worry, I’m on your side. I’ll make him apologize.” Everyone watched me, expecting me to soften, to yield. My in-laws treated me like a child throwing a temporary tantrum. After all, they had witnessed the long and often difficult journey Gary and I had taken to get to this point. But I ignored their expectant faces, yanked my hands from Gary’s grasp, and said, my voice cutting through the air, “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m done with you.” The office fell silent. You could have heard a pin drop. “What are you talking about? We just got married…” Gary’s eyes started to redden, as if he couldn’t process my words. “Let me repeat myself so you understand. I’m. Done. With. You. I’m cutting my losses.” With that, I pulled the divorce agreement from my bag and slapped it against his chest. I turned to leave. “Get it signed. My time is limited.” I didn’t get far. Lily grabbed my arm, her grip so tight it left an immediate red mark on my wrist. Her face was twisted in a mask of indignation. “Could you stop being so unreasonable? You’re an embarrassment to women everywhere!” she hissed. “Who else would put up with you? If Gary hadn’t interned at your father’s company back in the day, you’d still be some lonely old spinster. You should be thanking him, not making a federal case out of nothing!” I met her glare with a cold stare of my own. “This has nothing to do with you. You’re his secretary. Know your place.” Lily jutted out her chin. “I’m speaking for everyone here! Who in this office agrees with what you’re doing?” she challenged. “They’re too afraid of you to say anything, but I’m not. Our Gary doesn’t deserve this.” She tightened her grip. “Apologize to him right now, or you can kiss your position as the CEO’s wife goodbye!” My hand shot out, and the sharp crack of a slap silenced the room. A collective gasp went through the crowd. “I’d be delighted!” I spat. Gary exploded. “Audrey, don’t push your luck! How dare you hit Lily!” He shoved me forcefully, sending me stumbling back several feet, before rushing to Lily’s side, fussing over her with frantic concern. He then positioned himself in front of her, a human shield protecting her from me. “You two seem close,” I observed, raising an eyebrow. My comment only seemed to fuel the crowd’s disapproval. The murmurs started again, painting me as the unhinged, jealous wife who couldn’t admit when she was wrong. Lily clutched Gary’s arm from behind, her voice dripping with manufactured sweetness. “Gary, it’s my fault. I just couldn’t stand to see you being treated like that. Maybe Audrey is just acting out because she loves you so much. I won’t say another word, I don’t want to make her angry again.” She pouted, looking as if she were the one who had been deeply wronged. “Thank you, Lily,” Gary said, patting her hand. “This is my fault for dragging you into it.” He turned back to me, his voice softening into a placating tone. “Audrey, stop this. Look how upset you’ve made Lily. Let’s talk about this at home, behind closed doors. We can talk after I finish work, okay? I’ll buy you whatever you want.” By the end, he was practically begging, performing the role of the doting, patient husband for his audience. He was painting me into a corner, making me out to be the irrational one. His father stepped in to deliver the final blow. “Audrey, we all see how much you’ve supported our family. None of us want this. If you agree to stop this nonsense, I’ll have Gary transfer another ten percent of his company shares to you. How does that sound?” The employees who had been defending Lily all exchanged looks of sudden understanding. “So that’s what this is about.” Gary nodded eagerly, his eyes pleading with me. “Honey, I’ll give you any amount of money you want. Just please, don’t divorce me.” “Think whatever you want. Give it to me, don’t give it to me, I don’t care. You’re signing those papers.” My expression didn’t change. “Audrey Vance!” His mother, who had been silent until now, finally lost her temper. “Your first day as a wife and you’re already acting lawless! What will you be like in the future? He’s not giving you the shares, and he’s not signing anything. You had better take back that agreement and stop this now. And don’t you forget,” she added, her voice dropping to a low threat, “your father’s company is still waiting for us to bail it out.” The mention of my father was a clear warning. The onlookers smirked, waiting for my inevitable surrender. But I ignored them all, turned on my heel, and walked away. 2 Downstairs, my cousin Leo was waiting for me, sent by my father. He opened the door to a sleek black car as I approached. “I saw the pictures you sent,” he said as he gently guided me in, making sure I didn’t hit my head. “The information is solid. My associates will have the rest of the proof by this afternoon.” “Thank you,” I said, leaning back against the leather seat. As a private investigator, Leo’s relationship with my family was purely transactional, and I was fine with that. “I’m suing Gary for divorce, and I plan to take him for everything he’s worth. This evidence is crucial.” Sometimes, a clean transaction is more reliable than a messy emotion. The pictures I’d sent Leo were screenshots from Gary’s phone, taken while he slept last night. They showed a series of strange expenses on regular workdays, for the exact same amounts he had transferred to me. The recipient was a high-end, exclusive private club, the kind frequented by the rich and powerful. The wait for the court date gave me enough time to get my affairs in order, to prepare for a clean break. I moved out of the house I had shared with Gary and into a small apartment my father had bought for me years ago. But just as my preparations were underway, rumors about me started to circulate online. That evening, at a charity gala, I became the subject of pointed whispers and sideways glances. “Isn’t that the new Mrs. Cross? The one who demanded a divorce after one night? The nerve of her to show her face.” “Oh, that’s her? I heard her father basically sold her into that marriage. Who does she think she is, trying to get a divorce? She’s going to drag her whole family down with her.” “So Gary didn’t give her enough money? Does she really think she’s in a position to be throwing tantrums?” “I bet she’s found another man. Gary Cross is young and successful. If I were her, I’d never let him go.” Everyone, from established business tycoons to rising young stars, looked at me with a mixture of scorn and amusement. I felt a surge of anger and was about to call Gary to confront him when his voice cut through the ballroom chatter. “Audrey! You’re here! This is perfect.” His sudden appearance made the gossipers exchange nervous glances. “You haven’t been home for days,” he said, walking toward me. “I had to beg my mother, but she finally agreed to let me give this to you.” He produced a velvet box and opened it to reveal an exquisite emerald heirloom. A wave of gasps went through the nearby crowd. “Isn’t that the Cross family heirloom? The one his mother inherited? She said publicly she would only ever give it to her daughter-in-law.” “He must really love her. Even after all her ridiculous behavior, he begged his mother to give her the family emerald.” “That’s so romantic! Audrey is so lucky.” They all expected me to melt, to take this as the grand romantic gesture it was designed to be and gracefully back down. But my voice was still cold as I pushed the box away. “No, thank you. You should save it for someone else. After all, we’re getting a divorce.” My words dropped like a bomb in the silent room. Gary froze, his face a mask of shock. The crowd erupted, a chorus of angry voices accusing me of being ungrateful, of taking his love for granted. I ignored them, excused myself from the party, and took a cab to Gary’s house—the marital home where I had spent a single, miserable night. While Gary and I were living in different cities before the wedding, I had gotten a puppy. After we got married, I had, of course, brought him to our new home. In my hasty departure, I hadn’t been able to take him with me. Now, I was going back for him. I keyed in the code to the front door. ACCESS DENIED. Frowning, I tried again with my birthday. Then Gary’s. All incorrect. As I was about to try a fourth time, the door opened from the inside. I hadn’t expected anyone to be home. I certainly hadn’t expected that person to be Lily Marsh. 3 When she saw it was me, a triumphant smirk flickered across her lips before she replaced it with a look of feigned surprise. “Oh, Audrey! What are you doing back at this hour?” she chirped. “I’m so sorry, I was already asleep. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.” I looked past her into the house. “What are you doing here?” “Oh, Gary got a little drunk last night, so I brought him home. I just ended up crashing here for the night. I hope you don’t mind,” she said with a breezy confidence. “And the password?” “Oh my gosh, that’s my fault!” Lily smacked her forehead dramatically. “Gary said it wasn’t safe for me to be here alone with the old password, so he changed it to my birthday. I honestly didn’t think you’d be coming back…” Her face was a picture of apology, but her eyes danced with mockery. I gave a noncommittal nod and pushed past her. I could hear the frantic scratching of my dog, Buddy, on the sofa. “Hey, you didn’t take off your shoes!” Lily called after me. I ignored her. The sight that greeted me made my heart clench. My little furball was a mess of anxiety, visibly thinner than when I’d last seen him. He looked up at me with wide, pleading eyes. This wasn’t the time to deal with Lily. I scooped Buddy into my arms, ready to leave. But then I heard the shattering of ceramic. A shard from a broken bowl flew past me, nicking my calf and drawing blood. But Lily was far more ruthless. I watched in disbelief as she took another piece and deliberately dragged it across her own forearm, creating a much deeper, more dramatic gash, before dropping the shard at her feet. At that exact moment, the front door opened again. Gary walked in to the sight of Lily, clutching her bleeding arm. “Audrey, what the hell are you doing?!” he roared. He rushed to Lily’s side, pressing a hand to her wound to stop the bleeding, then glared at me with pure fury. “Lily is just staying here temporarily! Did you have to hurt her like this?” Lily grabbed his hand. “Gary, don’t blame Audrey. She was just upset. It was my fault, I should have moved faster.” Her words only fanned the flames of his anger. He picked up the shard from the floor and hurled it at me. “I can’t believe you’re so petty, so consumed by jealousy that you’d stoop to this!” I dodged, but a piece still grazed my cheek, leaving a small, stinging cut. Fine. If this was the game he wanted to play, I wouldn’t bother explaining myself. “Believe whatever you want. I’ll see you in court.” For a second, Gary’s eyes widened in genuine shock. I continued, my voice steady. “You’re not willing to part ways peacefully, so I’m suing for divorce. You can expect a summons from the court.” Lily looked indignant. “Audrey, Gary keeps giving you chances, and you just keep pushing him. Have you completely lost your mind?” “Shut up!” Gary snapped, pulling Lily back without even looking at her. He turned his pained gaze on me. “Audrey, do you really have to take it this far?” Hearing the hurt in his voice, Lily looked as if she’d been slapped, frozen in place. I just looked away, stroking my trembling dog to calm him down. Gary’s eyes finally fell on Buddy, noticing how thin and frail he looked. A new wave of disbelief washed over his face. “You’re really set on this divorce?” “What do you think?” I said, turning and walking toward the door. “Audrey, this is your choice! Don’t you dare regret it later!” he shouted after me, his voice raw with rage. I didn’t look back.

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A freak accident connected me to my younger self from ten years ago. The girl—bright-eyed and in love—whispered excitedly: “I saw Charles’s hidden ring! Will he propose? Will we be happy forever?” Silently, I turned on my camera. Weak from my miscarriage, I shuffled to the hospital door. Down the hall, Charles embraced a tearful Emily—the woman who’d just hit me with her car. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ll hire the best lawyer. The baby’s father never even showed up anyway.” He didn’t know that father was him. My younger self paled as realization dawned. “So,” I asked softly, “still want this future?” Only heavy silence answered—and I knew: this was God’s second chance. 1 I was in the hospital for three days. Not a single call from Charles to ask if I was okay. When I finally returned to our home, Lynden Villa, he was just stepping out of the shower. Seeing me, he gestured vaguely toward a gift box on the coffee table. “Clara, I’m sorry. I’ve been stuck in meetings overseas these past few days. I’ve been neglecting you.” He offered a lazy smile. “This is for you. A little something to make up for it.” His apology was as hollow as the gift—a trinket that was merely a complementary piece to the necklace Emily wore. I just nodded, tossing the box aside without a second glance. The last couple of days, Charles seemed to be in a remarkably good mood. He came home unusually early and even brought me a slice of mango cake. “I don’t like mango.” My rejection didn’t seem to faze him. “Oh. I just assumed all women liked sweet things like mango.” The moment he said it, the voice of my younger self crackled through my earpiece, laced with disbelief. “How could he forget? I’m allergic to mangoes…” The first year we were together, I had a severe allergic reaction after accidentally drinking juice with mango in it. I broke out in hives, struggled to breathe, and was rushed to the emergency room. He had sat by my bedside then, sobbing like a child, repeating over and over again, “Clara, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault… I swear I’ll remember everything you can and can’t eat from now on!” How many years had it been? Everything had changed. It wasn’t that I hadn’t considered divorce. But the Vance and Blackwood family businesses were so deeply intertwined, a clean break was nearly impossible. Charles would never agree to it. “Clara, I’ve got an early start tomorrow. I won’t be sleeping at home tonight.” Charles meticulously styled his hair, spritzed cologne on his collar, and grabbed his jacket, leaving without a backward glance. I knew what was happening tomorrow. The annual company gala. I hadn’t attended in two years. This year would likely be the same. 2 But the next morning, Charles’s assistant, Alex, showed up at my door with a gown. A surprising, almost unheard-of gesture. It was a size too big. Not my style, not my fit. But Alex was insistent, rushing me to get changed. When I arrived at the grand estate where the gala was being held, the looks from the employees were a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and, most of all, pity. In the powder room, I overheard their hushed whispers. “If the boss is still married to Clara, doesn’t that make Emily Hayes the other woman? She’s so shameless about it!” “Keep your voice down! If she hears you, you’re finished. Mr. Grant just mentioned that Emily wasn’t as competent as Clara, and the boss fired him on the spot. Even threatened to run him out of Port Sterling!” Mr. Grant was one of the company’s founding pillars. And Charles had cast him aside for Emily without a second thought. I lost the heart to listen any longer and made my way into the ballroom. Charles’s eyes widened in shock when he saw me. Emily was standing beside him, wearing a gown that perfectly complemented his tuxedo. The triumph in her eyes was unmistakable. I understood instantly. The ill-fitting dress had been her doing. Charles steered Emily toward me. “Clara, this is Emily Hayes, a student I sponsor. She’s a brilliant pianist—just won the national gold medal yesterday.” His admiration for her was raw and undisguised. Emily playfully tapped his chest. “Oh, stop. Clara’s the real genius. I was using her old piano, and I still can’t make it sing the way she did.” Charles just smiled, ruffling her hair with a tenderness that made my stomach churn. “You’re too modest.” He then turned to me, his tone casual, almost an afterthought. “By the way, Clara, I gave the grand piano from the house to Emily. You can’t play anymore, so it was just collecting dust.” “Fine,” I said. It was just an 18th birthday present from him. If Emily wanted it, she could have it. 3 I watched them, clinging to each other. There was a time when Charles wouldn’t let any woman other than me within arm’s length. Now, Emily was the glaring exception. He acted like a teenager with his first crush, even getting into a fistfight with a business partner to defend her honor. And I, like a fool, had thrown myself in front of him to stop it. A shard of shattered glass had sliced through my right hand, severing the ligaments. After countless surgeries, my fingers could no longer command the keys of my beloved piano. Charles raised an eyebrow, about to say something more, but a sudden gasp cut him off. In a flash, he shoved me aside, catching Emily as she stumbled. He gave her a light pat on the backside, feigning anger. “I told you not to wear those heels. See? Now your ankle’s twisted.” Emily buried her face in his chest, but her eyes were on me. She mouthed the words silently, a cruel smirk on her lips. “You’re pathetic, Clara Vance.” Everyone in the company knew about their affair. The weight of their pitying stares was suffocating. I fled the ballroom, seeking refuge in the cool night air of the garden. From a shadowed corner, I heard the rustle of clothing and a woman’s soft moan. “Honey… who do you like more? Your little kitten, or that Clara?” Charles’s breathing grew heavy. “She’s like a dead fish in bed. How could she ever compare to my feisty little fox?” His voice was thick with desire. “And that face of hers… she was pretty when she was young, I guess. Now, I can’t even bring myself to kiss it.” That was my husband. Tearing me down just to turn on another woman. My younger self had heard it all through the earpiece. After a long, crushing silence, she hung up the phone. 4 Back at home, a friend from my conservatory days sent me a video. [Clara, do you know this student? Her style is so much like yours.] In the video, Emily sat at a piano, playing the very piece I had composed for Charles as a gift. The piece that had just won her a national gold medal. The original manuscript was with Charles. Without hesitation, I packaged the video, along with a comparative analysis of clips from my previous works, and sent it all to a journalist I trusted. Almost overnight, Emily was engulfed in a plagiarism scandal. When Charles found out, he immediately used his position as my husband to issue a public statement in her defense: As Clara Vance’s husband of ten years, I can confirm that while my wife has composed many brilliant pieces, this is not one of them. Emily Hayes is a student I sponsor and a remarkably talented pianist in her own right. The Blackwood Corporation’s legal team will pursue action against any and all parties spreading these baseless rumors. Shortly after, Emily posted a photo of the manuscript. Some people bought it, but many remained skeptical. That evening, Charles came home, yanking off his tie in frustration. His tone was not of a request, but a command. “Clara, I need you to release a statement. Confirm that the piece was written by Emily.” My fists clenched. For the first time, I fought back. “Charles, I will not help a thief legitimize the theft of my work!” His response was a sharp, stinging slap across my face. “Clara, wake up! You’re just a cripple who can’t even play anymore. What good are these compositions to you now? It’s an honor for you that she can play your music.” The world swam before my eyes. He snatched my phone and began typing out the statement, posting it online under my name. I watched his fluid, practiced movements and suddenly, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Charles, do you even remember what that piece was? It was my wedding gift to you.” He froze, a flicker of panic in his eyes before he masked it with a cold resolve. “It’s just one song. You can write countless more. But Emily is young. Her career can’t be tainted by this.” I smiled faintly, whispering to myself, “You heard him, didn’t you?” Charles was too busy cleaning up his mistress’s mess to notice. Through my earpiece, I heard my younger self take a deep, steadying breath. Her voice, when it came, was firm and resolute. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t be accepting Charles’s proposal.” “If this love is doomed to turn rotten, then I would rather never have had it at all.” 5 Charles confiscated all my electronics, turning our luxurious villa into a gilded cage. As if to keep an eye on me, he started coming home for dinner every night. We would sit in silence across the large dining table, with him playing the part of the attentive husband, placing food on my plate as if the ugliness between us had never happened. My gaze fell to his left hand. His ring finger was bare. The wedding band he had worn for nearly a decade was gone, leaving only a faint, pale mark on his skin. He noticed me looking and instinctively touched the spot, his expression shifting. “Must have lost it in the shower a few days ago,” he said, a little too quickly. “We can pick out a new pair for our tenth anniversary.” “Alright,” I agreed, still clinging to the foolish hope that we could end this with some dignity. At the jeweler’s, when the consultant prepared to measure my finger, I stopped her. Instead, I gave her Emily’s ring size. I was waiting in the private viewing room when Emily herself appeared. She watched Charles, who was completely absorbed in selecting the perfect diamond, and her face tightened with a jealousy she couldn’t hide. “This is just a marriage of convenience,” she hissed. “Charles loves me! Do you want to bet? One phone call from me, and he’ll leave you here in a heartbeat.” How could I not believe her? When my grandfather was on his deathbed, one call from Emily had been enough to pull Charles away. He disappeared for three days, without a word. My grandfather passed away still asking for him. That night, Charles booked out an entire restaurant. The air was filled with the soft melody of a string quartet. The special ringtone he had set for Emily shattered the tranquility. His face tensed. “It’s just work. Not important,” he lied, but I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he fought to control himself. His eyes were dark, clouded with a barely concealed lust. “Clara, something urgent came up at the office. I have to go, but you have to wait for me here. I have a surprise for you.” I didn’t answer. He didn’t need one. The clock struck midnight. Fireworks exploded over the river, a spectacular, custom display lighting up the night sky. The very show Charles had once promised would be mine alone. At the same moment, a video arrived on my phone from Emily. Through the floor-to-ceiling window of a dark bedroom, the brilliant colors of the fireworks illuminated the scene within. I could clearly see Charles and Emily, tangled together in a passionate embrace. On their entwined hands, the new rings I had just “chosen” glinted in the explosive light. I walked over to the vase of imported roses on the table and dumped them into the trash. Ten years ago, my younger self had just refused his proposal. Charles. This time, we were really over. For good.

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Five years ago, I saved a handsome fox. I expected gratitude. Instead, he dumped three kits on my doorstep. As I hesitated, floating comments appeared: [OMG! These fox spirits transform into Grade-A hotties!] [The fake heiress will steal them to build her harem!] [Their powers will help her steal everything from you!] Just then, my scheming “sister” reached for the box: “You hate animals, Cora. Give them to me.” I yanked the box back: “Better to raise my own men, no?” 1 When Hailey reached for the cardboard box, my hands moved faster than my brain. I yanked it behind my back. “No, I couldn’t possibly trouble you. I found them, so I should be the one to take care of them.” Five minutes ago, I had started seeing strange, translucent messages—like a live chat commentary—floating in my vision. Through them, I learned the truth: I was living inside a novel. A novel titled The Fake Heiress Who Fought for Everything and Lived Happily Ever After. And I, the real heiress, was nothing more than the villainous foil to the story’s beloved protagonist. Hailey, the fake heiress, was greedy and materialistic, yet she pretended to despise our wealthy family, making a show of wanting to escape. And for that, everyone adored her. Meanwhile, I, the one who craved a family’s love, the one who’d been separated from them for over a decade because of a hospital mix-up, was despised for everything I did. And it all started with this litter of foxes. Hailey was supposed to use these kits to steal the good fortune that was rightfully mine. I, without any magical assistance, was destined to fail at every turn, ultimately ending my story by jumping off a building in despair. But now I could see the commentary. And I wasn’t about to let that happen. I clutched the box tightly. Hailey’s hand froze, and a strange expression crossed her face. She tilted her chin, a smirk playing on her lips. “You wouldn’t know how to raise them, Cora. You spent your whole life in some backwater town. Did they even teach you about this kind of thing at that little school of yours? Oh, right, I forgot. You went to a public middle school. You probably don’t know the first thing about caring for foxes.” Her words were like a physical blow. A hot flush of shame and anger crept up my neck. Before I could retort, a smooth, magnetic voice spoke up from behind me. “Cora? What are you fighting with Hailey about now? You have everything she has. Can’t you just leave her alone? The family has already compensated you for what you went through. Isn’t that enough?” The speaker, dressed in designer sportswear, had sharp, handsome features and a perfectly styled haircut. It was Ashton Vance, the adopted son of the Song family. And, as of recently, my fiancé. 2 Five years ago, I was spending the summer at my grandmother’s, shucking corn, when I found an injured fox. He was magnificent—pure white fur, piercing blue eyes that held a chilling intensity. I’d heard stories about fox spirits who repaid human kindness. So, I left him my home address and social security number, just to be sure he didn’t repay the wrong person. I waited and waited. No magical repayment came. Instead, a fleet of luxury cars belonging to the wealthiest family in the region, the Songs, rolled up to my grandmother’s tiny house. They were here to take me home. There had been a mix-up at the hospital. I was their long-lost daughter. This has to be the fox spirit’s work! I thought. But when I returned to the Song family, I discovered my position was… awkward. My biological parents felt no connection to me. They pitied me for my past—my adoptive parents had died young, leaving me to be raised in poverty by my grandmother—but they seemed to think money was the only compensation they owed me. Hailey, the girl who had taken my place, was so sweet and charming that my parents couldn’t bear to send her away. So she stayed, now officially the “adopted second daughter.” In name, I was the first daughter. But in reality, she held all the power. And Ashton? The live commentary had just revealed he was the male lead of this novel. As the adopted son, everyone had assumed he and Hailey were destined to be together. But when I, the real heiress, was brought home, our parents honored a childhood betrothal agreement. Suddenly, Ashton was my fiancé. And since he couldn’t marry the girl he actually loved, he had nothing but contempt for me. But I didn’t care. The Songs had made a promise: if I came back, they would pay for my grandmother’s medical care, ensuring she had a place in the best nursing home. A muscle twitched in my jaw as I glared at Ashton. “Enough? What, exactly, should I be satisfied with? This imposter who stole my life gets to throw tantrums in my face every day, and I’m supposed to be grateful? You’re lucky I haven’t lost my temper. And who are you to lecture me? The family dog? Get out of my way.” I clutched the box and tried to push past him. The commentary had just flashed a new message: [The first kit is about to open his eyes! The first person he sees, he’ll recognize as his master! I think this one controls wealth, right? He’s gonna bring his owner insane financial luck.] Financial luck! A walking cash machine! If I could make this little guy my subordinate, I could finally start winning in this ridiculous novel. I wasn’t sure if Hailey could see the commentary, but she suddenly grew desperate, lunging for the box. “Cora, don’t be angry! I didn’t mean you were ignorant. It’s just… I’ve been the daughter of this family for eighteen years, and you just got here. I’m not looking down on you, really! And Ashton was just worried about me. You didn’t have to be so cruel.” I rolled my eyes, her words bouncing right off me. All I could think about was the message: [The alpha fox is about to wake up! His power is wealth! Hailey, baby, grab him! Once he imprints, it’s game over!] [I think the alpha transforms tonight, too. He’s so hot. 6’2″, pale skin, and legs for days.] I ignored the rest and bolted for my room, clutching the box. If I couldn’t make the fox imprint on me, I definitely wasn’t going to let Hailey have him. Hailey, sensing my urgency, grabbed my sleeve, her nails digging in. In the scuffle, the box fell from my hands. I heard a tiny yelp. In the chaos, my eyes met a pair of amber, animal eyes. Hailey’s face went pale, her own eyes instantly welling with tears. “Cora, I know you’ve had a hard life, but it wasn’t my fault! Punish me however you want, but why would you hurt these innocent animals? Please, just give them to me.” When force didn’t work, she switched to playing the victim. I ignored her completely and dove for the box. But a white blur shot out from inside and vanished in a flash. Damn it, one got away. Hailey gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “Cora, I really didn’t mean for that to happen! If you hadn’t fought me for them, he wouldn’t have run away!” I shoved past both of them, grabbed the box, and sprinted to my room, locking the door behind me. As the lock clicked, I heard a faint rustling from inside the box. I lifted the lid. There were only two kits left, their eyes still sealed shut. The one with the amber eyes was gone. 3 My cash cow had escaped! Just then, the gloating commentary reappeared. [Hahaha, the alpha ran off! He’s probably going to find our sweet Hailey! What is this dumb heiress thinking? This is a villainess-reborn story! Anything our Hailey wants, she gets!] [Once Hailey gets the wealth fox, she’ll inherit the entire Song family fortune. Ashton will be hers too. They’re totally gonna seal the deal tonight, hehehe.] I was shaking with rage. How was this fair? The old fox was repaying me. These kits were meant for me. Now Hailey was the righteous one for stealing them? Just because she was the “villainess reborn,” she could ignore all basic decency? A loud banging started at my door. It was Ashton. “Cora, you’d better come out here and apologize to Hailey right now! Mom and Dad are coming back from their trip tonight. If they find out you’ve been fighting with her again, I’m not covering for you.” When I didn’t answer, he added coldly, “And don’t say I didn’t warn you. They’re going to be distributing company shares when they get back. You still want your allowance and tuition money, don’t you?” I let out another cold laugh. “And you think they’ll actually give it to me? Save it. You and Hailey are their real children. I’m just an outsider, right?” They treated their fake daughter better than their real one anyway. They’d only brought me back to be Hailey’s punching bag. Did anyone really care if I lived or died? Instead of waiting for their pitiful handouts, I’d put my faith in these foxes. 4 I didn’t leave my room that night. My parents didn’t bother to check on me. The next morning, they left for school without me. After I was brought back to the Song family, I was enrolled in the same elite private high school as Hailey and Ashton. A luxury car was supposed to take us every day, but Hailey had been telling everyone at school that I was her maid’s daughter, and that she only brought me along out of pity. She’d even encouraged the other students to bully and isolate me. I didn’t have a single friend. I tucked the two remaining kits into a hidden compartment in my bag and took a series of public buses to school. According to the commentary, in the original story, the alpha fox was supposed to have transformed last night. He would have accompanied Hailey to school today and delivered my first major humiliation. As I walked into the classroom, the commentary popped up again. [Here comes the real heiress! Showtime! Today’s the day she wins first place in that essay contest and gets the $50,000 prize, right?] [Yep! And she was going to send it to her blind grandma in the country for eye surgery. But our Hailey intercepts it! The poor girl has no idea the alpha fox already swapped her essay with a plagiarized one. As long as the alpha is with Hailey, all of the protagonist’s good luck gets stolen.] [Serves her right! Why should she get all the good stuff just for acting pitiful? Finders keepers, losers weepers!] I ignored the comments and looked at Hailey. Sure enough, a boy in the school uniform was standing beside her. He had a shock of silver-white hair, and his skin was so pale it was almost luminous. Even his eyelashes were white. He was unnaturally beautiful. He stood obediently by Hailey’s side as she reached up and ruffled his hair, as if summoning a puppy. “This is my friend,” she announced to the class. “He’ll be coming to school with Ashton and me from now on. Don’t any of you mess with him.” When she saw me, her smile widened. “Sorry, Cora. Ashton was craving a burrito from that place on the south side, so we left a little early. We forgot to wake you.” I just smiled back and walked calmly toward her. “You’d better hope you actually forgot and aren’t just putting on an act. You know whether it was intentional or not.” With that, I kicked over my own desk. A few mice and a small, bright green snake scurried out. These little tricks had been happening since my first day. I was used to it. I’d put up with it because the Songs were paying for my grandmother’s care. But yesterday, the commentary had revealed the truth. The Songs were going to force my grandmother to move, and then, on Hailey’s instruction, they were going to cut off the nursing home payments, leading to my grandmother’s death from neglect. I was done being patient. I was taking back everything she had stolen from me. The classroom erupted in screams. I, however, simply pinned the writhing snake with my foot, grabbed it by the head, and dangled it in front of Hailey’s face. The snake flicked its tongue, hissing. Hailey’s eyes widened in terror, her face ashen. “Are you insane, Cora? Get that thing away from me! GET IT AWAY!” Ashton immediately tried to intervene, but he was too afraid of the snake to get close. “Cora, what the hell is wrong with you? That snake is poisonous! If you have a problem, take it out on me, not Hailey!” I glanced at him. “I’ll deal with you after I’m done with her. Don’t worry.” I was about to drop the snake down the collar of Hailey’s uniform when the white-haired boy frowned and grabbed my hand—and the snake. I looked at him and saw them—the same amber, animal eyes. It was the transformed alpha fox. We stared at each other for a moment. He blinked, a look of confusion on his face. 5 Seeing that someone had stopped me, Hailey’s fear vanished. A triumphant smirk appeared on her face. “Do you hate me that much, Cora? That snake is poisonous! Do you really want me dead? Too bad, it looks like fate isn’t on your side today.” She preened. “Thank goodness for my dear Fenris. Oh, well. A little punishment is fine, I guess. After all, you’ve suffered so much.” But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Fenris—that must have been his name—let go of my hand. His amber eyes grew moist, and his nose twitched. The next thing I knew, he was bending down and rubbing his fluffy white head against my chin. “You… you smell so good,” he murmured. I was so startled that my grip loosened, and the snake slithered out of my hand, landing right inside Hailey’s collar. She shrieked, clawing at her uniform and running around the classroom like a madwoman. No one dared to help her. Ashton just stood there, pale-faced, swatting at her clothes with a textbook. The classroom was in utter chaos. Someone finally called security, and the snake was removed. Hailey glared at Fenris, who was now clinging to my hand. Her eyes filled with tears. “Fenris, I’m your master! How could you protect someone else? Have you forgotten who took you in? How could you do this to me?” Fenris looked from Hailey to me, his expression torn. “I was just…” He seemed utterly confused, but in the end, he moved to stand behind Hailey. Hailey shot me a venomous look, but then a cold smile spread across her face. “You’re feeling pretty smug right now, aren’t you, Cora? But what does it matter? You’ll never win against me.” The commentary exploded. [That’s right, Hailey, baby! Don’t back down! We love a villainess! Does she really think she’s the heiress now? Her parents don’t even care about her.] [But what was that just now? Why did Fenris act all cute with Cora? Does he know she was his original master?] [No way. Our Hailey performed a blood bond with him last night. He only recognizes her as his master.] [Just wait. Cora’s about to have a meltdown when she finds out the prize money she’s been dreaming of is going to Hailey instead. It’s gonna be epic.] I read the comments, a secret smile playing on my lips. Hidden in my hand, I clutched a small tuft of white fox fur.

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Flood Countdown: 12 Hours. City-wide mandatory evacuation. My parents frantically stuffed all our belongings into the car and sped off. They took my adopted cousin, even her two little pet turtles. The only thing they forgot was me. As the floodwaters surged, my mother finally remembered she had another daughter. “Lily, you have to run! The flood is coming!” “Where are you?” I cried. Over the phone, her voice was laced with guilt. “Just run! Get out of there!” Then I heard my cousin, Claire’s, excited voice in the background: “Mom, Dad, look! The highway is clear!” In that instant, I understood. They had already abandoned me. After I miraculously survived the flood, my biological parents came to the shelter, crying, wanting me back. But I walked right past them and ran into the arms of my new mom and dad. 1 “Lily, you have to run! The flood is coming!” The sound of rushing water had woken me. When the landline rang, my backpack was already floating, my second-grade workbook a pulpy mess. “Mom? The house is flooding! Where are you?” Panic seized me, and I burst into tears, my small hands fumbling, unsure of what to do. My mother didn’t answer immediately. When she did, her voice was heavy with guilt. “Just… just run, Lily.” It was only then that I noticed. Every door in the house was wide open. My parents’ room looked like it had been ransacked. My cousin’s room was empty. Even the two small turtles she kept on the balcony were gone. A roar filled my head, and my face drained of color. A terrifying thought clawed its way into my mind. No, it can’t be… They wouldn’t leave me. “Mom? Dad? The water’s rising! I’m scared, please, come and get me…” I sobbed, clutching my stuffed rabbit, my small body curled into a corner of the sofa, trembling uncontrollably. My mother didn’t answer. Instead, I heard Claire’s cheerful voice. “Mom, Dad, look! The highway is clear!” In that moment, my world tilted and shattered. The flood was coming, and my parents had taken my cousin and fled. They’d packed everything, not even forgetting Claire’s pet turtles. But they had forgotten me. My father’s voice, thick with anger and shame, crackled over the line. “You have the nerve to ask? You were sleeping like a log! Nothing could wake you!” My sobs grew louder. I’d been running a fever for two days before my mom had even noticed. She’d called the school, given me some medicine, and I’d fallen into a deep, medicated sleep. My mother’s voice was sharp with impatience now. “Stop crying! There’s still time before the flood hits. Go downstairs and find some of the other neighbors who are evacuating. Your father and I will pick you up with Claire later.” The line went dead with a screech of static. The power was out. The water was rising faster. Crying, I scrambled for the stairs. We lived in an old, five-story apartment building. Halfway up, I remembered the inflatable ring Claire used for her swimming lessons. Sobbing, I ran back to get it. The water level kept climbing, relentless, until it had swallowed the entire fifth floor. I clung to a wooden plank, the swim ring looped over my arm, and drifted for what felt like an eternity. A deep, penetrating cold seeped into my bones. My consciousness began to fade. 2 When I woke up, I was in a makeshift hospital bed. In a daze, I felt someone feeding me medicine, gently cleaning my face. A sharp prick in my hand made me whimper, and I slowly opened my eyes. A woman in a white coat was looking at me with a gentle expression. “You’re awake, little one. Don’t move. This shot will help you get better faster. Why were you all alone in the flood? Where are your parents?” My gaze fell, and large tears splashed onto the clean white blanket. I just cried, saying nothing. The doctor’s eyes widened in alarm, and she quickly changed the subject, her voice full of regret. “Would you like some chicken? I can go get you some.” I looked at her and gave a small, timid nod. The high fever had damaged my throat, and I couldn’t speak. Whenever anyone asked about my family, I just shook my head. They assumed I was an orphan. They would sigh and look at me with pity. Someone suggested sending me to an orphanage. But I clung to the doctor’s white coat. Wherever she went, I followed. I couldn’t bear to be left behind again. The doctor, a kind woman named Mrs. Song, couldn’t bring herself to leave me. She took me home with her. When she opened the door, a little boy’s face lit up. “Mom! Dad! You really got me a big sister!” He circled me, full of curiosity, while I stood there nervously, twisting the hem of my shirt. Mrs. Song laughed. “Peter has been begging for a sister every single day.” Her husband, a good-natured man who worked for the city government, smiled. After he spoke, their eyes met, and they went into another room to talk for a long time. Later, Mrs. Song knelt in front of me, her voice soft. “Would you like to stay here with us? Would you let me be your mom?” I stared at her, stunned and overwhelmed. My vision blurred as hot tears fell onto my hands. “…Momma,” I whispered. Her face broke into a radiant smile. “You can talk!” After that, they started the adoption process. I took my new father’s last name, Song. They named me Maya, because, as my new mom said, they found me in the water. 3 Two years later, it was the first day of school in September. Peter was starting first grade, and I was in fifth. I confidently led my new parents through the crowded halls to find Peter’s classroom. “Mom, Dad, that’s Mrs. Gable. She used to be my English teacher. Now she’s Peter’s,” I explained. Just as I was about to go say hello, a familiar voice called out. “Lily? Is that you, Lily?” A second later, a woman grabbed my arm. It was my biological mother. Standing behind her was Claire, who was also starting first grade. My mother’s face was a mixture of shock and elation. She stared at me, her eyes tracing my features, confirming I was the same girl from her memory. A choked, sorrowful sob escaped her throat. “Lily… my daughter! I thought you were dead! Where have you been? Where have you been all this time?” She clutched me, her body shaking with sobs. “Lily, I missed you so much. Why don’t you call me Mom?” I looked at her blankly. “Ma’am, I think you have the wrong person.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. I pulled my arm free and ran to my new parents, hiding behind them as if I were frightened. My biological mother’s heart seemed to break. “How can you not know me? Lily, look at me, it’s Mom! We were separated in the flood two years ago!” I frowned, my expression a mix of confusion and annoyance. “You’re really mistaken, ma’am. My mom and dad are right here.” She froze, her gaze shifting to our family of four. She shook her head in agony. No… How could her perfectly fine daughter suddenly belong to someone else? How could she be calling other people “Mom” and “Dad”? The other parents and students in the classroom were starting to stare, unnerved by her frantic behavior. My adoptive parents exchanged a look. They understood immediately. My new mom looked down at me. I gave a slight shake of my head. Though she didn’t understand why I was denying it, she still protected me. “Ma’am,” she said firmly, “you’ve made a mistake. My daughter’s name is Maya Song, not Lily.” Just then, my biological father arrived and heard the whole exchange. The light in his eyes died. “Maya?” he mumbled, utterly lost. “But she looks just like Lily.” Mrs. Gable came out to see what the commotion was. “Claire’s mom, you must be mistaken. I know Maya. She was one of my students.” Everyone was watching. Claire looked mortified. “Mom, get up! Please, just get up!” People started to dismiss it as a tragic misunderstanding—a grieving mother seeing her lost child in a stranger’s face. Some even tried to comfort my biological mother. Just as I was starting to relax, she lunged at me, tearing at my shirt. “Lily has a red birthmark on her stomach! Let me see!” I screamed. My new parents immediately shielded me. “Are you insane? Tearing a child’s clothes off in public? If you don’t stop, I’m calling the police!” The scene descended into chaos. Then, my mother’s triumphant shout echoed through the hall. “There it is! It’s her! She is Lily!” My heart sank. She’d seen it. 4 We all ended up at the police station. In front of the officers, my biological parents were hysterical, pointing at my adoptive parents and screaming. “It’s them! They’re child traffickers!” “They kidnapped our daughter and changed her name! Those monsters!” My adoptive parents looked grim, but for my sake, they remained silent. I watched my biological parents’ meltdown with a blank face, feeling nothing. “Alright, that’s enough!” Officer Miller slammed his hand on the desk. “This is a police station, not a market! If you want to shout, take it outside!” They fell silent, but their eyes were still burning with rage. Officer Miller turned to me, his voice gentle. “Little girl, who are your real mom and dad?” Under my biological parents’ hopeful gaze, I pressed closer to my new parents. “I don’t know them.” My biological mother’s eyes filled with despair. “Lily, think carefully. I’m your mother.” My biological father exploded. “Officer, she must have gone through some kind of trauma! That’s why she’s lost her memory! You have to investigate these two traffickers!” My new dad frowned. “Sir, Ma’am, I understand your pain, but please, calm down. You’re scaring my daughter. You say Maya is your child. How did you lose her?” My biological parents froze. My mother’s eyes darted around guiltily, and my father started to stammer. “We… we got separated during the flood.” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. “How careless of you.” My mother’s face went pale. Then, as if to cover her guilt, she started wailing. “Child, you don’t understand how evil people can be! If all the traffickers in the world were dead, no child would ever be lost! They must have drugged you to make you forget! Don’t you people have a conscience?” She sobbed hysterically, a perfect imitation of a grief-stricken mother on a TV show about finding lost children. But she never once mentioned the truth—that they had left me to die in the flood. My biological father pointed a shaking finger at my new parents. “You’ll be cursed! I bet that son of yours is bought too! Officer, these two need to be executed! The death penalty!” My new dad’s face was livid, and my mom was trembling with rage. “Watch your mouth in front of the child!” I stepped in front of my new parents. “Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.” My biological parents looked like they’d been slapped. Officer Miller rubbed his temples. “Is this child your biological daughter? If you have a birth certificate, show it to them and put this to rest. If not, we’ll have to do a DNA test.” My new parents exchanged a hesitant look, but before they could speak, I cut them off. “Why should I have to do a DNA test with them? If anyone needs to provide proof, it’s them. Don’t I know who my own parents are?” I didn’t want to acknowledge them. Not at all. Officer Miller paused. The kid had a point. He turned to my biological parents. “Do you have any proof?” 5 “The birthmark! My daughter has a red birthmark right on her stomach, exactly the same,” my mother said quickly. I scoffed. “What kind of proof is that? Lots of people have birthmarks.” She was speechless. Just then, an older officer from the records department walked by with a mug of tea. “Oh, hey,” he said casually. “Looks like this little girl found her birth parents.” Everyone’s expression changed. I clenched my fists. You old fool! Of all the times to show up. My biological parents’ faces lit up. They grabbed the old officer. “This child was adopted?” The officer looked confused. “Yeah, I processed the paperwork myself. What’s wrong?” My mother collapsed to the floor, wailing. “The truth is out! She’s my daughter! My lost daughter!” “Is this true?” Officer Miller asked my new parents. Seeing that the secret was out, my new mom finally admitted it. “Maya is indeed our adopted daughter. But we are not traffickers. We went through the official, legal adoption process.” My biological mother shrieked at her. “Of course, you’d say that! Why didn’t you admit it before? You lying, heartless animals!” She looked at me then, as if I were a long-lost treasure. “Lily, we are your parents. They’re the bad guys. Please, just try to remember!” “We demand a DNA test! We’re taking our daughter home!” my biological father insisted. I glanced over at Claire in the corner. She was staring at me with pure hatred, as if she resented me for coming back to steal her parents. “That won’t be necessary,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “I haven’t lost my memory. I remember you.” My mother’s face turned a ghastly white.

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