My boyfriend dragged me to a magic show, and as luck would have it, he was chosen as the volunteer for the grand finale—the Vanishing Act. The crowd roared with applause when he disappeared right before their eyes. I slipped out to the restroom for a quick minute, but when I returned, he still hadn’t reappeared. When I asked the staff where the volunteers go after the show, they looked at me like I was speaking a dead language. They claimed there was no “Vanishing Act” on the program tonight. Worse, a complete stranger was sitting in my boyfriend’s seat. The people around me insisted, with eerie synchronicity, that I had come to the show alone. But I knew the truth. We came together. He couldn’t just evaporate. I caused a scene, screaming for the organizers to give me an answer, until the police were finally called. They searched every inch of the theater and checked every ID, but there wasn’t a trace of him. I tried to show them the photos on my phone—the selfies of us in the lobby, the candid shots of him laughing—but they were gone. Every single one. Deleted, as if he had never existed at all. My parents called me a psychotic. They washed their hands of me. In a daze of grief and confusion, I wandered into traffic and felt the bone-shattering impact of a car. Then, I blinked. I was back. Back at the theater. Back on the day he took me to the show. 01. “Cass, come on! What are you staring at? The show’s about to start and we can’t be late.” Ben grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the entrance of the grand theater. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow: I was back. I had been given a second chance. Ben Montgomery had been my world for five years. He was the kind of guy who spent his weekends perfecting card tricks just to see me smile. This tour by the legendary illusionist, Victor Blackwood, was something he’d been obsessed with for months. In my past life, I’d gone just to make him happy. I never could have imagined the nightmare that would follow. Ben vanishing into thin air. The world collective-forgetting he ever lived. The digital erasure of our entire history. It was as if a giant, invisible hand had reached down after that magic show and scrubbed his existence from the fabric of reality. And I, the only one who remembered, was branded a lunatic. Ben stopped abruptly, turning to look at me with those warm, worried eyes. “Cass? You okay? You’ve been quiet since we parked. That’s not like you.” I bit my lip, my throat tight. “Ben… what if we don’t go? What if we just go grab dinner instead?” The pain of losing him was still a raw, screaming thing in my mind. If we didn’t enter that theater, he wouldn’t disappear. I couldn’t survive that kind of heartbreak twice. Ben looked stunned, his face falling. “But I’ve been waiting for this forever. Victor Blackwood is the reason I even picked up a deck of cards, Cass. He’s my hero.” He sighed, seeing my distress. “Look, if you’re really not feeling it, I can go alone. I’m the one who should be making it up to you anyway, dragging you to this.” I took a shaky breath. I couldn’t tell him the truth—he’d think I was the crazy person everyone said I was. But I knew Ben. His obsession with magic was deep-seated; he wouldn’t stay away. And I couldn’t let him go alone. I had to play dirty. “Ben, my stomach… it really hurts.” I hunched over, clutching my midsection, forcing a grimace of agony. I made sure my knees buckled slightly. “What? Cass! What’s wrong?” He was at my side in an instant, his hands steadying me. “I think my gastritis is flaring up,” I groaned. “It feels like I swallowed a hot coal.” I’d had stomach issues in the past, so the performance was easy to sell. Ben’s face twisted with genuine panic. I waved a hand weakly, a pale imitation of a brave smile. “It’s okay. Go ahead. You’ve wanted this for so long. Just go. I’ll take an Uber to the ER. Don’t worry about me.” Even as the words left my mouth, I felt like a master manipulator. A “green tea bitch,” as some might say. Ben’s gaze flickered between the theater doors and me. Then, he didn’t even hesitate. He turned his back on the theater. “The show can wait. There’s only one Cassidy Miller in the world.” A wave of warmth flooded my chest. Ben was a good man. He always put me first. It was why I had gone mad searching for him in that other life. We were two halves of the same soul. But just as I thought I’d escaped the trap, a man stepped out from the crowd. “Excuse me? I couldn’t help but overhear. Is everything alright?” He looked like he’d stepped out of a J.Crew catalog—clean-cut, professional. “I’m Dr. Whitlock. I’m actually a gastroenterologist, here for the show. Would you mind if I took a quick look?” Ben looked like he’d found a saint. “Oh, thank God. Please, Doctor.” I froze. I could only watch as this stranger approached. He pressed a hand to my abdomen, his touch cold, and after a few moments of “examination,” he looked up at Ben with a knowing smile. “She’s fine. Just a bit of nerves, likely. The tension should pass in a few minutes. If it persists tomorrow, see your primary, but you shouldn’t miss your evening over this.” Ben beamed at me. “That’s amazing news! See, Cass? We can still make it.” I opened my mouth to protest, to say the pain was still there, but the doctor leaned in. He whispered into my ear, his voice a sharp, icy blade. “I’d suggest you go to the show, Cassidy. Unless you want me to tell your boyfriend that you’re faking it.” My eyes widened. I looked at him, but his expression was perfectly placid, the image of a helpful stranger. There was no warmth in his smile. It made my blood run cold. 02. Before I could demand to know who he was, the doctor gave a polite nod and vanished into the throng of people entering the theater. Ben was already pulling me toward the doors. “Can you make it, honey? If it’s too much, I’ll take you home. Seriously.” “I… I’m okay,” I lied, forcing my feet to move. “The doctor was right. I’m feeling better already.” We were minutes away from the curtain call. I was out of excuses. I had to go in, but I promised myself this: I would not let him out of my sight. I would keep him off that stage. I would make sure everyone in that building knew we were together. We found our seats. Ben was buzzing with excitement, his eyes fixed on the velvet curtains. I sat beside him, my fingers tracing the small velvet box in my pocket. Inside was a ring. In my previous life, I’d planned to propose to him after the show. It was supposed to be a surprise, a grand gesture to celebrate our five years. I never got to give it to him. But now, I realized I needed a witness. I needed a spectacle. If I proposed now, in front of a thousand people, they couldn’t pretend he didn’t exist. I turned to the girl sitting on my other side—a young woman in a white dress. “Hi there, sorry to bother you,” I whispered. “But my boyfriend is a huge fan of Victor Blackwood, and this is a big night for us. Would you mind taking a photo of us?” She looked at Ben, then at me, and nodded with a smile. “Of course.” I pulled Ben close, ignoring his confusion as the flash went off. The moment was captured. Digital proof. But I wasn’t done. I stood up, feeling the eyes of the rows behind us shift. I dropped to one knee in the narrow aisle. Ben stared at me, his mouth hanging open. “Cass? What are you doing?” I spoke loudly, my voice carrying over the pre-show chatter. “Ben Montgomery, I love you. I don’t ever want to be without you. Will you marry me?” I wanted people to look. I wanted them to stare. And they did. The surrounding rows went silent, then erupted into whispers. Ben’s face turned a deep, embarrassed crimson. “Cass… yes. Yes, of course.” He pulled me up and slid the ring onto my finger. Cameras flashed around us. Strangers cheered. I leaned into him, my eyes scanning the crowd. Remember us, I thought fiercely. Remember his face. The girl in the white dress handed my phone back. The photo was perfect—us, glowing, the ring visible on my hand. When the show finally started, Victor Blackwood himself acknowledged us. “I hear we have a newly engaged couple in the house tonight! Let’s hear it for them!” The spotlight hit us. Our faces appeared on the giant screens flanking the stage. I seized the moment and kissed Ben, long and hard, making sure everyone saw. I felt a surge of triumph. There was no way they could deny him now. Thousands of people were witnesses to our love. Nothing could go wrong. “Cass?” I turned back to Ben. The joyful, embarrassed man from a moment ago was gone. He was staring at me with a cold, expressionless gaze. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?” 03. My heart leaped into my throat. “What do you mean?” “Why the big show?” he asked, his voice low and strange. “The public proposal? The kissing for the cameras? You’ve never been one for ‘spectacle’ before.” He tilted his head, his eyes searching mine. “Do I have a terminal illness? Am I dying, Cass?” Then, just as quickly, the coldness vanished. He looked worried, the Ben I knew returning. I let out a shaky laugh and gripped his hand. “Don’t be silly. I just… I wanted the whole world to know how much I love you. I wanted them to see you.” Ben looked away, his cheeks flushing again. “The show’s starting. Pay attention.” I watched the magic with him, my eyes never leaving his profile for more than a second. Finally, the moment arrived. Victor Blackwood announced the Vanishing Act. He called for a volunteer. I felt every muscle in my body lock. I held my breath. It was Ben. Of course, it was Ben. As the ushers moved toward our row, I stepped out into the aisle, blocking them. “I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m actually feeling quite ill, and my fiancé needs to stay here with me. He can’t go up.” Ben blinked, startled, but then he nodded. “She’s right. I should stay with her.” The ushers moved on. I watched, breathless, as Victor Blackwood chose someone else—a middle-aged man from the front row. The fear that had been suffocating me finally began to lift. I looked down at the Tiffany ring on my finger, already imagining our wedding, our life, our safety. But then, the act ended. The lights in the theater plunged into total, absolute darkness for the transition. Panic flared in my chest. I reached out for Ben’s hand, but my fingers met only cold, empty air. My heart dropped into my stomach. The house lights surged back on. The audience stood, cheering for the volunteer who had just “reappeared” at the back of the hall. But I was looking at the seat next to me. It wasn’t Ben. It was a stranger—a man in a grey suit. Ben was gone. Again. I stared at the man in the suit. I recognized him. He was the same man from my first life—the one who claimed the seat was his. The roar of the crowd felt like it was miles away. I let out a scream that sliced through the applause. “Who the hell are you? Where is my fiancé?” The theater went quiet. People turned, their expressions shifting from joy to annoyance. The man in the suit looked at me with genuine confusion. “Ma’am, what are you talking about? I’ve been sitting here the whole time. This is my seat.” “Liar!” I screamed. “You weren’t here! Ben was here! We just got engaged!” He shook his head slowly. “Ma’am, you came in alone. I noticed you because you were talking to yourself earlier. You don’t have a boyfriend.” It was a carbon copy of the previous nightmare. The same words. The same gaslighting. But this time, I had proof. I turned to the girl in the white dress. “You! You took our picture! You saw me propose! Tell them!” The girl looked at me with a blank, pitying expression. “I never took a photo for you. Are you feeling okay? Like the gentleman said… you’ve been alone all night.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. I looked around. A sea of faces, all looking at me like I was a broken thing. A lunatic. “No,” I whispered. “No, that’s impossible. We were on the screen! Victor Blackwood congratulated us!” People began to mutter. “What engagement?” “Is she high?” “She’s ruining the show.” The theater security hurried over. “Ma’am, please. You’re disturbing the performance. We’re going to have to ask you to leave.” “I’m not going anywhere! Check the security cameras! I came in with him!” I demanded to see the footage. I refused to budge until they dragged me into the security office. When they played the tape, I felt the world tilt on its axis. The footage showed me walking through the lobby. Alone. It showed me sitting in my seat, turning to my left and talking to an empty chair. Ben Montgomery wasn’t there. He had never been there. Even my phone… I opened the gallery, and the photo was there, but it was just a selfie of me, smiling at nothing, my arm draped over a vacuum of space. My memories of him—every touch, every conversation—felt like they were being forcibly rewritten. But then, as I looked down at my hands in despair, I saw it. The one thing they hadn’t accounted for. 04. I thrust my hand toward the security guard and the manager. “Look! Look at the ring!” The Tiffany setting caught the fluorescent light of the office. “Ben put this on my finger tonight. Right there in Row F. This ring exists! That means he exists!” The manager sighed and pointed back at the screen, rewinding the footage of me entering the theater. “Ma’am, look at your hand as you hand the usher your ticket. You were wearing the ring when you walked in.” I stared at the grainy footage. My hand. The ring. It was already there. My heart hammered against my ribs. That wasn’t right. I knew I had it in my pocket. I knew he had placed it there. The despair was a physical weight, crushing the breath out of me. But then I remembered the way Ben smiled. The way he smelled of old paper and peppermint. My love for him was a tether to reality. “The footage is fake,” I said, my voice deathly quiet. “I don’t know how you did it, but it’s fake. My fiancé went missing in this building, and I’m not leaving until the police get here.” The police arrived shortly after. Captain Jack Dalton, a man with a face like granite, took my statement. “Miss Miller, you’re telling me a man vanished in a room full of witnesses, and not one of them—including the cameras—saw him?” “I know how it sounds,” I said, my voice trembling. “But he was there. His name is Ben Montgomery. Please, just find him.” Dalton looked at me with a mix of pity and professional exhaustion. “We’ve swept the building. We’ve checked every exit. We’ve verified the IDs of every attendee. There is no Ben Montgomery on the guest list. There is no Ben Montgomery in our database matching your description.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping an octave. “Miss Miller, making a false police report is a crime. If this is a stunt, or a breakdown, you need to tell me now.” I was sweating, my mind racing. “It’s not a stunt! He exists!” And then, I saw a familiar face through the glass of the office door. It was the doctor. Dr. Whitlock. I jumped up, pointing at him. “Him! He saw us! He checked my stomach outside the theater! He spoke to Ben!” Dalton signaled for his officers to bring the man in. “Sir, did you encounter this woman earlier this evening?” Whitlock nodded calmly. “Yes. I saw her outside. She seemed to be having a panic attack, complaining of abdominal pain. I checked her over as a courtesy.” I almost cried with relief. “Tell him! Tell him Ben was with me!” Whitlock’s brow furrowed. He looked at me with a soft, clinical sadness. “I remember you clearly, Cassidy. I remember because of that distinctive Tiffany ring you were wearing.” My heart soared—then plummeted. “But you were alone,” Whitlock said. “You were clutching your stomach and talking to the air as if someone were standing there. I assumed you were having a private episode. I certainly never saw a ‘Ben’.” The light in the room seemed to dim. I collapsed back into the chair, the world spinning. Am I really crazy? Is he just a ghost of my imagination? But then, a detail from Whitlock’s sentence snagged in my mind. A tiny, jagged edge of a lie. I stood up slowly, my eyes locking onto the doctor’s. “You’re sure I was alone? And you’re sure you remember me because of the ring?” Whitlock nodded, looking puzzled. “Yes. It’s a very beautiful piece.” I felt a cold, sharp smile spread across my face. I had him. “Captain,” I said, turning to Dalton. “I know exactly where my fiancé is.”

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The day my parents’ marriage finally dissolved, my brother—born with a hair-trigger temper and a soul made of spite—already knew the score. He knew our father had clawed his way into the inner circle of a Chicago real estate heiress. Bennett didn’t want a family; he wanted a dynasty. He wanted to be a blue-blood. He shoved me aside, practically stepping over our mother to grab my father’s hand. “I’m going with Dad,” he declared, his voice high and sharp. I didn’t say a word. I simply reached down, took my mother’s trembling hand, and helped her up. I stood by her side, a quiet shadow in the wreckage of our living room. In my first life, Bennett had been the one to stay. He’d snuck into Mom’s private journals and discovered that Grandma wasn’t just some estranged relative—she was the matriarch of one of the most powerful old-money families in Manhattan. He stayed because he thought he could use her to rule New York. He hadn’t expected the reality: Mom never went back to the manor. She worked as a janitor by day and sold hot dogs from a cart by night just to keep him fed. She’d spent every cent of her meager savings to rent a cramped, one-bedroom apartment near a decent school, leaving them with barely enough for groceries. He grew to hate her for it. Meanwhile, I was the one who went with Dad. As the son of the most notorious social climber in the Midwest, I lived a life of obscene luxury. I had every resource at my fingertips. I wasn’t just a straight-A student; I was a world-ranked chess prodigy and a semi-pro racer. Bennett’s jealousy turned into a sickness. When I returned home for a tournament, exhausted and vulnerable, he met me in the parking lot. He stabbed me seven times in front of a cheering crowd. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day of the divorce. Looking at the feral, triumphant glint in my six-year-old brother’s eyes, I knew he had come back, too. He thought he’d made the winning move this time. He thought he’d traded a life of poverty for a throne. He had no idea he’d just signed up for a nightmare. 1 I kept my head down, masking the cold fire of my hatred. “Matt,” my father, Adam, said, his voice hesitant. “Are you sure about this? You don’t want to come with me?” Adam actually preferred me. Just like with my brother, Adam had only pursued my mother because he’d smelled the “Manhattan Elite” on her. He wanted to be the trophy husband of a billionaire heiress. But my grandmother had seen right through his cheap suit and cheaper soul. She’d forbidden the marriage. When Mom was torn between her family and the man she thought she loved, Adam made sure she got pregnant. He spirited her away, thinking the old woman would eventually cave and write a check. He was wrong. Once it was clear Grandma had cut Mom off for good, Adam started looking for a new mark. He played the part of the tortured, bohemian artist, using his charms to infiltrate the circles of powerful women. He was leaving now because he’d finally landed May Stanford. May was Chicago royalty—stunning, ruthless, and trapped by the one thing money couldn’t fix: a biological inability to have an heir. After her family marginalized her for it, she’d spent her twenties systematically dismantling and then rebuilding their corporate empire from the inside. Now, in her thirties, her kingdom was secure, but she needed a successor. A son she could mold. Adam had offered us up like prize cattle. May’s “vetting team” had already decided I was the better candidate. In my last life, I’d gone willingly, unaware of the trap. The moment we arrived at the Stanford estate, May had me thrown into a decorative pond stocked with alligators. “Matt,” she’d said, her voice like silk over gravel, “if you want to be my son, you have to learn how to survive. The gates will open in three hours. Get ready.” “No!” I’d screamed, thrashing in the water. “Dad! Help me! Please!” But the elegant woman only smiled. “Matt, you have to save yourself.” 2 I’d looked to Adam, who was standing right behind her, hovering like a loyal dog. “Dad! Do something! Please!” Adam ignored my terror. He leaned over the edge, his eyes cold. “Matt, your mother is right. Listen to her. Do this for me. You have to survive.” “She’s not my mother!” I yelled. May knelt down, gripping my chin with fingers that felt like steel talons. “Matt, if you want a mother’s love, you have to forget Claire ever existed. Pass this test, and you can take the Stanford name.” I didn’t answer. I leaned forward and bit her wrist, hard enough to draw blood. Adam panicked, trying to pry my jaws open. “Matt! You little animal! Let go!” May didn’t flinch. She looked at her bleeding wrist, then back at me. “Matt, even if you tear my hand off, the gators are still coming in one hundred and sixty minutes.” That was the moment I realized I was powerless. I let go. I swam to the center, forced my heart to slow down, and began to watch the shadows in the water. I had to live. I fought those beasts for three days. When May finally killed them, she didn’t give me a bed; she put me in a kennel and fed me raw protein. The “domestication” never stopped. I grew up “perfect.” In public, she was the devoted, sophisticated mother, and I was the genius son she adored. But every time I fell short of her impossible standards, the punishments became more inventive, more psychological. By the time I was twenty, I was a “prodigy” to the world, but inside, I was a hollowed-out shell. If Bennett hadn’t killed me, I would have eventually killed May and then myself. But now? Now I was going to let Bennett be her dog. I was going to stay with Mom and find a way to heal. 3 Terrified of losing his “golden ticket,” Bennett grabbed Adam’s leg and nodded feverishly. “Dad! I want to go with you! You’re the only one who cares about me! I’ll be the best son, I promise!” Adam hesitated, his eyes flickering toward me. At that moment, Mom knelt down so we were eye-to-eye. Her voice was a soft balm. “Matt? What about you? Do you want to go with your father?” “I’m staying with you, Mom,” I said instantly. She had just been rejected by her youngest, and my words brought a sudden, fragile light to her eyes. She pulled me into a hug. “I promise you, Matt. I will make sure you grow up happy. I’ll give you everything I can.” “I’ll stay with you forever,” I whispered, meaning it. In my last life, she had given Bennett all of her love, and he’d spat on it. This time, I would be the one to cherish it. “Claire!” Adam shouted. “I didn’t agree to this! You can’t just take Matt!” Mom didn’t even look at him. She told me to take Bennett upstairs to pack our things. I nodded and took Bennett’s hand. I forced my voice into the pitch of a frightened seven-year-old. “Come on, Ben. Let’s go upstairs.” My brother’s small face contorted with a sneer that no six-year-old should possess. He followed me, but I could feel the malice radiating off him. As we climbed the stairs, I was already calculating. I needed a way out—a way to ensure May wouldn’t come for me. A few steps from the top, I felt his hand on my back. He shoved. In that split second, I saw my opening. Instead of catching myself, I leaned into the fall. I tumbled backward, aiming my forehead for the sharp corner of the mahogany banister. The pain was white-hot and immediate. My seven-year-old body wasn’t as resilient as my adult mind, and the agony forced a jagged scream from my throat. Bennett scrambled down next to me, forcing out fake tears. “Matt! Oh my god, you fell! Mom! Dad! I’m so scared!” Mom was there in a heartbeat, screaming for an ambulance. Adam, however, just stared at the gash on my head. “Matt! You idiot! Look what you did! What if that leaves a scar?” May Stanford was a perfectionist. She viewed her children as curated works of art. A scarred heir was a flawed product. Seeing Adam’s panicked face, I knew I’d won. 4 “Get out, Adam!” Mom screamed. “Stop yelling at him and just get out! Matt is staying with me. You don’t get to touch him ever again!” Adam couldn’t explain his real motives without admitting he was selling his children to a socialite. He could only stall. “Fine! But we’re not deciding anything until he’s out of the hospital.” Mom was too worried about the blood to argue. “Fine.” Adam stepped outside to “smoke,” but I knew he was calling May. In the hospital, Bennett hovered by Mom’s side, playing the innocent. “Mom, he was just jumping around on the stairs. He tripped over his own feet. You should tell him to be more careful…” Mom cut him off. “Go sit down, Bennett.” An hour later, Adam returned, his face a mask of feigned indifference. May had clearly given him new orders. “Claire, I’ve made my decision. I’m taking Bennett. You keep Matt. And after today, I don’t want to hear from either of you unless it’s an absolute emergency.” “Good,” Mom snapped. Just like in the previous life, they sold the house. Mom walked away with eighty thousand dollars in cash—a pittance to Adam, but a fortune to her. May must have been footing the bill to make the “problem” go away quickly. While I was still in the hospital, Adam whisked Bennett away to Chicago for “inspection.” I could only imagine the look on May’s face when she saw what she’d bought. Once I was discharged, Mom moved us to Boston. She wanted a fresh start. She fell back into the same routine: cleaning offices by day, selling rotisserie chicken and sides from a small stand at night. I didn’t care about the grease or the long hours. I did everything I could to help her. The only “gift” May had given me in my past life was a high-functioning brain. I stopped hiding it. I let my intelligence show, little by little. By the time I finished middle school, I was the top-ranked student in the district. When I won a ten-thousand-dollar scholarship, Mom cried. She looked at me, her eyes red and hesitant. “Matt… are you ashamed of what I do? If you keep being this successful, people are going to ask. The reporters will want to know who your mother is. Do you really want to tell them I’m a janitor?” I took her hands. “I’ll tell them the truth. I’ll tell the whole world that my mother is the strongest woman I know. That without you, I’d be nothing.” She sobbed and pulled me into her arms. “You’re my pride and joy, Matt.” 5 With the scholarship money and our savings, I convinced Mom to open a small, brick-and-mortar rotisserie bistro. During the grand opening, it was a madhouse. We offered ninety-percent-off deals for the first three days. By the fourth day, things had settled into a steady, profitable rhythm. I was in the back prepping vegetables when the bell rang. Two figures walked in, both dressed in tailored Italian wool. Adam and Bennett. I stepped out from the kitchen, blocking their path. “What are you doing here?” Bennett adjusted his silk tie, looking around the small shop with a sneer. “Matt, please. You think this little ‘business’ is impressive? My tie costs more than your mom makes in a month.” He looked comfortable in his wealth, but there was a frantic, hollow look in his eyes. He clearly wasn’t handling May’s “training” well. If he’d actually been reborn, why hadn’t he improved? Adam cleared his throat, looking uncomfortably at me. “Be nice, Ben. Remember why we’re here.” He turned to me with a plastic smile. “Matt, son. It’s been years. We just wanted to stop by and support your mother’s little hobby.” “We’re doing fine,” I said coldly. “We don’t need your support. Please leave.” “Don’t be an arrogant prick, Matt!” Bennett snapped. “Get out,” I barked. Adam stepped between us. “Matt, listen. May… your Aunt May… she wants to see you. She’s been following your academic progress. She’s very impressed.” So, May was willing to overlook my scar now because Bennett was a disappointment. She was trying to trade up. “I have one mother,” I said. “Her name is Claire. I don’t have a father, and I don’t have a brother.” Adam’s face darkened. “You think because you’re a big fish in a small pond that you’re special? The Stanford family has more money than God. This is your one chance to actually matter.” “I’ll pass.” Bennett exploded. “Dad, forget it! He’s just a scholarship kid! There are thousands of them! May can just find some other charity case to adopt! Look at him—he’s a peasant. In three years, my SAT scores will bury his!” Adam spat on the floor. “Ungrateful brat.” He turned to Bennett. “Let’s go. We’ll tell May he’s not worth the trouble.” As they left, I turned around and saw Mom sitting at a table, her face pale, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Matt… I’m so sorry. I should have told you…” 6 She was going to tell me about Grandma. But I knew there was a reason she hadn’t reached out in eight years. Even when we were starving, even when she was working four jobs, she never called Manhattan. There was a wound there I didn’t want to poke. “Mom, don’t,” I said. “It doesn’t matter. You raised me. I’m staying with you until the day I can take care of you.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but she just whispered, “Thank you, Matt.” We went back to work. I tried to shake the feeling of dread, but it sat in my stomach like lead. That night, as we were closing up, the door didn’t just open—it was kicked in. Bennett walked in, followed by a phalanx of twenty-two private security guards in black suits. I ran to the front. “What the hell is this? Get out!” Before I could move, two guards grabbed my arms and pinned me against the wall. Bennett kicked over a table, the crash of breaking ceramic echoing through the empty restaurant. He looked at the few remaining customers. “If you want to live, get the hell out! Now!” The customers scrambled for the exits, terrified. I knew Bennett was unstable, but this was a new level of mania. “Bennett, there are cameras here,” I said, trying to stay calm. “The footage is being uploaded to a cloud server on my phone at home. If you do anything, you’re going to prison.” Bennett laughed, a shrill, jagged sound. “I don’t care about your cameras. I have the Stanford lawyers.” He leaned in close. “You’re coming to Chicago with me. If you don’t, things are going to get very bloody, very fast.” I struggled against the guards. “I’m not going anywhere.” I’d already hit the silent alarm under the counter, and I had my phone in my pocket, dialing 911. I just needed to buy a few minutes. Suddenly, a guard dragged Mom out from the back. Her hands were zip-tied, her mouth duct-taped. He threw her onto the floor like a sack of grain. She let out a muffled cry of pain, but when she looked at me, she tried to smile, shaking her head as if to tell me not to worry. “Mom!” I screamed. I fought with everything I had, breaking free for a second before four guards swarmed me, kicking me back down. “Bennett! Stop! She’s your mother too!” Bennett pulled a switchblade. He knelt down, grabbing Mom by the hair and pulling her head back, the blade resting against her throat. “My mother is May Stanford. Now listen to me, Matt. If you refuse me one more time, I’ll start with her face. Do you want to see what this does to her skin?” “Don’t you touch her!” Bennett smirked, the blade nicking her cheek. A thin line of red appeared. “Try me.” “Stop! Okay! Stop!” I yelled, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Good,” Bennett said, his eyes wild with triumph. “Then you’re coming home. You’re going to be the perfect little ward for May.” Mom was shaking her head violently, ignoring the blade at her throat, begging me with her eyes not to give in. I was about to say the words—anything to save her—when the sound of sharp, rhythmic footsteps echoed from the doorway. A woman walked in. Her hair was silver, her suit was Chanel, and her aura was pure, unadulterated power.

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When my husband’s star student threatened to jump from the roof for the second time, I didn’t rush forward to save her. Instead, I took a step back. I felt the cold wind whipping against the hem of my coat, a stark contrast to the heat of the panic below. Down on the pavement, my husband, Robert, looked like he’d seen a ghost. His face was a mask of primal terror as he craned his neck, screaming up at me. “Don’t you dare move back! Hannah, what are you doing? Grab her! Pull her down!” In my previous life, at this exact heartbeat of a second, I had lunged forward. I’d tried to tackle Macy before she could slip. But the moment my fingers brushed her sweater, she had twisted, her small, nimble hands finding my shoulders. She didn’t slip. She pushed. As I fell toward the asphalt, I saw her face. There was no fear. Just a slow, satisfied curve of her lips. “Hannah,” she had whispered, her voice lost to the wind but clear in my mind, “with you out of the way, I finally get what I want. I’ll take such good care of Professor Matt for you. You can die in peace.” After my death, Robert had shut himself away for three days, refusing to eat or speak. I’d spent my existence as a ghost believing he was mourning me, hoping he would find justice. Instead, he used his influence to claim she’d had a “psychotic break.” He helped Macy vanish from the police reports. A year later, they were married. My mother, broken by the loss of her only daughter, ended her own life, leaving my father to wander the streets with a protest sign, a shell of a man seeking a truth no one wanted to hear. Then, I opened my eyes. And I was back on the roof. 1 “Hannah! Did you hear me? Save her!” Robert, usually the picture of academic composure, had eyes rimmed with red. He was gasping for air, his command sharp and serrated. He didn’t care about the ledge. He didn’t care about the height. He didn’t care about me. Just like last time. After I hit the ground, I died instantly. Robert hadn’t even looked at my body. He’d hurried Macy away, shielding her from the “trauma” of the scene. Ten years of marriage. Ten years of building a life, a home, a family. I realized then that to him, my life was a bargain-bin commodity. The hatred burned through my veins, cold and electric. I gave him one look—flat and empty—and turned my back on the edge. “Hannah, please!” Macy’s voice rose in a shrill, bird-like peck. “I’m so lost. Everything hurts. Please, just help me.” Tears streamed down her face. She looked like a terrified lamb, the perfect picture of a girl pushed to the brink. Below us, the crowd of students and faculty began to roar with moral indignation. “Professor Matt’s wife, don’t leave! Talk to her!” “She’s so young! She needs you!” “She looks up to you like a big sister! You can’t just walk away!” I felt a bitter laugh bubble up in my chest. Macy wasn’t going to jump. She had spent six months stalking my life, faking “cries for help” three times already. She didn’t want to die; she wanted me to die. And these people, with their cheap sympathy and their cell phone cameras, were handing her the weapon. The tension in my body was a physical weight. My temples throbbed. “Hannah, I’m an orphan,” Macy wailed, her voice projecting perfectly for the crowd below. “You and Robert… you’re all I have. You’re like the sister I never had. I know I’m not meeting your standards, but the pressure is too much! Death is the only way out!” She was good. She’d lost her mother young, her father had skipped town, and she’d grown up in the shadow of a grandmother who collected scrap metal to pay for her books. I had started sponsoring her in middle school. In high school, I’d paid for the best tutors to get her into this elite university. But Macy was a parasite. She started with shy, blushing refusals of my help. Then came the expectations. The latest iPhone. Designer bags. Jewelry. And finally, she wanted my husband. She wanted my life. Robert’s voice broke the air again, stripped of his usual gentlemanly veneer. “Hannah! A life is on the line! I don’t care what your grievance is—save her now!” The crowd took up the chant. “Apologize to her! Don’t be the reason she jumps!” “If she falls, it’s on your hands, Hannah! You’ll never wash it off!” Macy caught my eye, a flash of triumph glinting through her tears. She dangled one foot over the edge, creating the illusion of a wobble. “Ah!” she screamed, pitching forward slightly. The collective gasp from below was deafening. I saw the lenses of a dozen phones pointed up at us. “Hannah, please,” Macy whimpered, extending a hand toward me. “My legs are numb. I’m slipping. Just grab my hand. Just one pull and I’ll come back over.” Her voice was thick with fake terror, but her eyes were wide with a predatory hunger. I knew if I moved an inch closer, she’d drag me down with her. I didn’t say a word. I turned and walked toward the rooftop exit. Behind me, I heard the heavy thud of boots—the fire department had finally arrived. Macy’s eyes widened in genuine shock. She hadn’t expected me to simply leave the stage. 2 “Hannah!” As soon as I stepped out of the building’s lobby, Robert was there. He grabbed my arm, his grip so tight I felt the bone groan. “You’re so incredibly selfish,” he hissed, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and relief. “I don’t even recognize you. I am beyond disappointed.” I looked into his eyes, searching for a trace of the man I’d loved. There was nothing but a stranger. “Then let’s get a divorce,” I said, my voice as steady as a heartbeat. Robert recoiled as if I’d slapped him. The blood drained from his face. “What the hell are you talking about? You almost let a girl die, and you have the nerve to bring up divorce?” I opened my mouth to respond, but something hard and heavy struck me in the forehead. “You mean woman! Why are you mean to Macy? I hate you! I wish you weren’t my mom!” My son, Mitch, stood there, his face contorted in a sneer. He was standing right next to his father, a united front against me, all for the sake of the girl who had just tried to kill me. Blood began to trickle down my face. Robert’s expression flickered with a brief, ugly shame, but before he could reach for me, the paramedics emerged with Macy. She was being supported by two firemen, looking frail and broken. Robert and Mitch didn’t hesitate. They didn’t even look at me. They rushed toward her. The three of them huddled together, Macy crying into Robert’s chest while Mitch clung to her hand. To any observer, they looked like a grieving family. My colleagues stood around, stunned, their eyes filled with a pity that felt like an insult. I wiped the blood from my eye, turned around, and walked to my car. I spent the afternoon at the ER, getting three stitches and calling a divorce lawyer. As I was leaving the hospital, I ran into them again. They were bringing Macy to see a psychiatrist on the fourth floor. Robert was the picture of a devoted guardian. Mitch, usually a whirlwind of restless energy, was standing quietly, listening intently to the doctor’s instructions as if his life depended on it. A sharp, familiar pain stabbed at my heart. For years, Robert had been “too busy” for us. Research, lectures, projects—he was so busy he hadn’t even made it to the hospital the day Mitch was born. I’d raised our son alone, but Mitch resented me for the rules, the structure, the parenting. He preferred Macy, who took him to arcades and let him eat junk food. When my vision cleared, Mitch was standing in front of Macy, guarding her from me with a suspicious glare. “Hey! What are you doing here?” he snapped. “You’re probably planning something mean again!” “Don’t you touch her,” he added, his voice full of a child’s cruel bravado. “If you do, I’ll make Dad leave you for real!” He smiled, knowing exactly where to twist the knife. He remembered. When Mitch was six, Robert had a brief “entanglement” with a grad student. I’d lost my mind. I’d screamed, cried, even held a knife to my own wrist in a moment of sheer, shattered desperation. Back then, Mitch had hugged my legs and cried, “Mom, don’t be scared. Even if Dad leaves, I’ll always be with you. I’ll protect you forever.” I looked at him now. He would never understand that the only reason I’d fought so hard to keep this family together was for him. I didn’t say a word. I just turned and walked away. I saw the confusion flicker in Mitch’s eyes—the realization that his threats didn’t have a target anymore. Behind him, Robert’s face darkened. For the first time in our marriage, I hadn’t even glanced at him. 3 They brought Macy home. Renting her a separate apartment wasn’t enough anymore; now, they were moving her into my sanctuary. Macy caught my cold gaze and huddled closer to Robert, her shoulders trembling with practiced fear. Mitch immediately raised his voice. “Don’t worry, Macy. Dad and I are here. No one’s kicking you out!” Robert frowned at me, his voice heavy with “academic” authority. “Macy is traumatized, Hannah. As an educator yourself, you should have the grace to show some compassion to a student.” Compassion? Or a clear path to your bed? I looked at Mitch and kept the thought to myself. “She’s twenty-two,” I said calmly. “She’s months away from graduation. I’m stopping my financial sponsorship. Today.” Over the years, between tuition, tutors, and the designer “gifts” she’d lifted from my closet, I’d spent well over three hundred thousand dollars on her. I wasn’t going to throw another cent into a black hole. Macy’s head snapped up. Her eyes went wide with genuine panic. Tears began to flow—a well-practiced reflex. “Professor Matt… Hannah… am I such a burden? Maybe I should just leave. I’ll go live on the street, it’s fine.” She made a move toward the door. Robert grabbed her arm, spinning on me with a snarl. “Hannah, what is wrong with you? We aren’t hurting for money! She’s sick, and you’re being a monster!” Mitch lunged at me, his small fists thumping against my thighs. “Mean woman! Bad woman! Get out! This isn’t your house!” I stood there, numb, watching the son I nearly died to bring into this world treat me like an intruder. My heart didn’t break; it turned to ash. “Mitch, stop it. That’s your mother!” Robert pulled the boy back, but his eyes stayed on me, devoid of warmth. “If you can’t handle this, maybe you should go stay somewhere else for a few days. Until you’ve regained your senses.” The silence that followed was chilling. We had built this life together. Back when Robert’s stipend was barely enough for groceries, I was the one working double shifts at the learning center. I took the difficult classes no other teacher wanted just to afford the down payment on this house. Back then, Robert used to worry about me. He’d turn off my alarms and beg me to sleep. “Hannah, a house isn’t worth your health,” he’d say. Now, he was kicking me out of the home I’d paid for to make room for his mistress-in-waiting. It was perfect. Macy stood behind them, her arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. Her eyes said everything: Husband? Son? They’re mine now. You’re nothing. I didn’t argue. I didn’t tell her that this house was bought in my name before the marriage. I didn’t tell her that when the divorce finalized, they would be the ones on the street. I needed to leave so the security cameras could record exactly what happened when I wasn’t there. “Hannah,” Robert called out as I reached for my keys. “Your mother’s care… I’m still paying for the private facility and the advanced equipment. If you want her to stay comfortable, you’ll start acting like a wife again.” I froze. I turned slowly to look at him. My mother had late-stage ALS. She was on a ventilator. Robert’s brother sat on the board of the best private hospital in the state. He was using my dying mother as a hostage. I walked back across the room and slapped him so hard my palm went numb. Macy shrieked and tried to lung at me, but Robert, surprisingly, held her back. He just stared at me, his jaw tight. I walked out the door. For the next week, I stayed at the hospital with my mother. I watched the footage from my home security app. Macy had fully moved in. She was cooking in my kitchen, wearing my robes. She even slipped into the master bedroom late at night. I watched Mitch eat greasy takeout—the kind of food his sensitive stomach couldn’t handle, the kind I’d spent years carefully avoiding. He looked at the camera and shouted, “Macy, I wish you were my real mom!” I didn’t call. I didn’t text. Two weeks later, Robert messaged me: “You can come home now. This is getting ridiculous.” I ignored it. The next day: “I sent Macy back to the dorms. Come back. The house is a mess and Mitch needs you.” I still didn’t reply. 4 That afternoon, Macy burst into my office at the university. She looked like she’d been through a thresher—bruises on her arms, hair disheveled. She collapsed onto her knees in front of my desk. “Hannah, please! Please let me go!” Before I could breathe, a man stormed in after her. My stomach dropped. It was Greg Scott—a guy from Macy’s hometown, a known lowlife who had stalked her years ago. I’d paid for her legal fees to get a restraining order against him back in the day. How was he here? Robert followed right behind him. Macy scrambled into Robert’s arms, sobbing hysterically. “Robert, save me! Hannah… she told Greg where I was! She’s trying to sell me to him! He’s a monster!” Macy’s lip was bleeding. Her shirt was torn at the collar. She looked like a victim. Robert’s face turned a terrifying shade of purple. He glared at me and then at Greg. Greg, playing his part perfectly, looked at me with a sleazy grin. “Thanks for the tip, Mrs. Matt. And for the cash. I’ll take her off your hands now.” “What are you talking about?” I stood up, my heart hammering. Greg didn’t answer. He lunged for Macy. “Your grandpa sold you to my family years ago, girl! We let you finish school, but it’s time to come home and start having babies!” He grabbed her arm. Robert didn’t hesitate. He threw a haymaker that caught Greg right in the temple. Greg hit the floor, scrambled up, and ran out of the office, howling in pain. It was a farce. A cheap, poorly acted play. But Robert was fully immersed. He turned on me, his eyes glowing with a dark, predatory light. He pinned me against my desk, his fingers digging into my shoulders. “Get on your knees,” he rasped. “Apologize to her. Now.” The pain in my arms was excruciating. “They’re lying, Robert! Use your brain! Why would I ever contact that man?” His grip tightened. He looked like he was on the verge of snapping. But then Macy began to slap herself across the face. “It’s my fault!” she wailed. “I thought you loved me like a sister, Hannah! Why do you keep trying to destroy me? Do you want me to just die?” “THEN DIE!” I screamed, the frustration finally boiling over. Robert threw me to the ground. He looked at me with utter loathing. “I am so done with you, Hannah. You want to play hardball? Fine.” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. My blood ran cold. “What are you doing?” “Is this Director Sterling at the hospital? Yeah. Pull the ventilator in Room 436. Now.” “NO!” I scrambled toward him, clawing at his legs. “Robert, please! You’ll kill her! Don’t do this!” He kicked my hand away, his voice devoid of any humanity. “Kneel. Apologize to Macy. Maybe I’ll call them back.” My brain felt like it was being split by a chisel. The world blurred. I stood up, a ghost in my own body, and walked over to Macy. She looked up at me, a tiny, sickening smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. I dropped to my knees. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, each word tasting like ash. “It’s all my fault.” Macy reached out, pretending to be the bigger person, and pulled me into a hug. “I forgive you, Hannah,” she whispered into my ear, her voice a venomous hiss. “But you should probably get to the hospital. If you run, you might catch her before the lights go out.” I shoved her away. She fell back with a cry of “pain,” but I was already out the door. “Hannah! Running won’t save you!” Robert yelled after me. I drove like a maniac, my vision tunneled. I reached the hospital ten minutes later, drenched in sweat. As I reached the hallway of the intensive care unit, the doors to Room 436 opened. A nurse was slowly wheeling out a gurney covered in a white sheet. The world went black. I stumbled forward, my legs giving out. I reached out and pulled back the sheet. A scream ripped from my throat, raw and jagged, echoing through the sterile halls. “MAMA!” At that exact moment, across town, Robert’s heart skipped a beat. He looked at his phone, a strange sense of dread pooling in his stomach. Before he could call Hannah, he got a call from the hospital director. “Mr. Matt? I’m calling about Hannah’s mother. The body is being moved. Do you have instructions for the morgue?” The world tilted. Robert’s breath hitched. But I never actually got through to the director earlier… the call hadn’t connected. How was she dead?

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My wife brought her male assistant home for a shower. She even let him use her favorite plush bath towel. I sat on the living room sofa, my hands buried in my lap, white-knuckled, forcing the bile back down. I told myself to stay calm, to wait for an explanation that wasn’t an insult. Then, she started looking for an ashtray. Jordan walked out of our master bedroom, a lit cigarette dangling from his lip, wearing nothing but that towel—the one I’d bought Rachel for our first anniversary. The sight of him, so casual and proprietary in my sanctuary, was the final spark. I stood up, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous register. “Rachel, don’t you think this has gone a little too far?” Rachel didn’t even flinch. She spared me a glance that was as cold as a winter morning in Chicago. “What is wrong with you now?” “What’s wrong with me?” I let out a jagged, hollow laugh. I pointed a trembling finger at Jordan. “You told me you hated the smell of smoke. You made me quit cold turkey three years ago because you said it made you nauseous. So why is he allowed to light up in our bedroom when I’m not even allowed to touch a pack?” I took a step closer, the air between us thick with things unsaid. “You brought a man into our home to shower. He’s wearing your towel. Do I even exist to you anymore?” Rachel adjusted her watch, her expression bored. “He’s not like you, Nicky.” … I stared at her, the words echoing in the quiet of the apartment. Jordan was her assistant. I was her husband. Of course we weren’t the same. But the subtext in Rachel’s voice wasn’t about our roles; it was about our value. To her, I was less than the man she paid to pick up her dry cleaning. Jordan looked at me, a smug, lopsided grin tugging at his mouth. He turned to Rachel, flicking an ash onto the hardwood floor. “Boss, the ash is getting long.” “We don’t have an ashtray,” Rachel said, her voice softening for him in a way it hadn’t for me in years. “Just use the kitchen bin.” Then, she turned back to me, her voice returning to that sharp, commanding tone. “Go to the kitchen and bring the trash can out for Jordan.” “You want me to be his personal valet?” I was reeling. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a cold hand. I looked at the woman I had spent two years supporting, wondering when she had become this stranger. “Don’t just stand there, man. Hurry up before I drop this on your rug,” Jordan urged, his voice dripping with mock impatience. I sat back down on the sofa, my gaze hardening. I didn’t say a word, but I stared directly into Rachel’s eyes. I was finished with the games. I wanted—I needed—her to give me one reason not to walk out that door. “Jordan closed the Matt account tonight,” Rachel said, as if that explained everything. “He’s the hero of the firm right now. Can’t you just swallow your pride for one night?” I laughed again, though there was no humor in it. “He signs a contract, so he gets to bathe in our house and use your towel? Should I just leave right now and give you two some privacy?” Before Rachel could even respond, Jordan flicked a massive clump of ash directly onto the floor and gave me a shark-like grin. “That’d be great, actually.” I shot him a look of pure venom, a silent warning that usually made men twice his size back down. But he didn’t blink. He had Rachel as his shield, and he knew it. I looked back at her. If she had scolded him, if she had shown even a flicker of respect for our marriage, I might have found a way to forgive her. Instead, she gave me nothing but a deafening silence. Her lack of defense for me was a roar of betrayal. It told me exactly where I stood: I was the obstacle in the room. I was the one who didn’t belong. I stood up slowly. “Rachel, do you really want me to go?” “Go take a walk. Get some air,” she said, not even looking at me. “Come back when you’ve calmed down.” The last bit of warmth in my chest died then. Jordan’s face lit up with a triumphant, ugly smirk. I nodded slowly. “I hope you two are very happy.” I turned and walked toward the door without looking back. There was no hesitation, no dramatic pause. I realized now that bringing Jordan home wasn’t a lapse in judgment; it was a tactical move. She wanted me to quit. She wanted to push me until I broke so she didn’t have to be the villain who ended us. Fine. If she wanted a life without me, I wasn’t going to beg for a seat at her table. I don’t do charity cases, and I certainly don’t value love that has to be negotiated. I reached the door and stopped for just a second. Jordan’s voice drifted from the living room, laced with mockery. “Hey, Nicky? Did you remember where the ashtrays were on your way out?” I looked over my shoulder at him. I memorized that look of petty victory on his face. I’d be seeing it again soon. “Is there something else?” Rachel asked, her brow furrowed with irritation. “Rachel, I want a divorce.” The room went dead silent. Rachel froze, her eyes widening as the words finally registered. “You… what did you just say?” “I said I want a divorce. I’ll have the papers at your office tomorrow for you to sign.” With that, I stepped out of the apartment—the place that used to feel like home—and didn’t look back. That night, I called my best friend. When he heard the news, he didn’t offer sympathy; he offered a night out. He’d never liked Rachel. He’d seen the cracks in the foundation long before I was willing to admit the house was falling down. After a night of heavy drinks and a clarity that only comes with rock bottom, I spent the morning at a law firm. Then, I headed straight to the corporate headquarters of the Zachary Group. When I saw Rachel in her office, she looked refreshed. Radiant, even. There was a faint mark on her neck—a bruise she had tried to cover with foundation, but I knew what it was. The “green hat” she’d made me wear wasn’t just a one-night affair. I wondered how long she’d been playing me for a fool. I didn’t say a word. I simply dropped the divorce settlement on her desk. Rachel picked it up, scanning the pages. Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re serious? You… you’re walking away with nothing?” She had clearly expected a fight. She’d probably spent the morning bracing for me to demand half the company, half the assets, a monthly check. Instead, I was leaving with exactly what I came with: nothing. She looked genuinely confused, almost suspicious. Before she could speak, the door burst open. Jordan didn’t even knock. He stormed in, his eyes darting between me and the papers in Rachel’s hand. He lunged across the desk, snatched the settlement, and ripped it into shreds. “Rachel, don’t sign anything this loser gives you! He’s trying to play you.” Rachel, who had been about to chastise him for the intrusion, turned her gaze back to me, her eyes flaring with sudden anger. “Nicky, I see what’s going on now. No wonder you were so quick to ask for a divorce. No wonder you didn’t ask for a dime.” She stood up, leaning over her desk. “You’ve been cheating on me, haven’t you? This is all just a guilt trip so you can run off with whatever trash you’ve been seeing behind my back. You’re disgusting.” I stared at her, amazed by the sheer audacity of her projection. I didn’t argue. I just looked at Jordan and asked, “And which one of your ‘sources’ told you I was cheating?” “Oh, please,” Jordan sneered. “I knew you were a snake. I’ve been keeping an eye on you.” He reached into his pocket and tossed a handful of photos onto the desk. Rachel and I both looked down. The top photo was clear: it was me, entering a hotel with a woman. I was carrying her bags. “Well, well,” Rachel laughed, the sound cold and biting. “You’ve been busy, Nicky. Here I am, pouring my soul into this company, and you’re out playing house while you coast on my paycheck. You’re a lazy, pathetic excuse for a husband. And her?” She pointed at the woman in the photo. “You really have no taste, do you? What does she have that I don’t?” I opened my mouth to explain—to tell her that the woman was my sister visiting from out of town—but I stopped. What was the point? Suddenly, without warning, Jordan swung his hand. Slap. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the small office. My head snapped to the side. For a moment, I was just stunned. Jordan puffed out his chest, convinced he’d won. “She’s the boss, Nicky. Even if you leave, you don’t get a cent of her money after what you did.” Rachel nodded, her expression hardening. “Good call, Jordan. I almost felt bad for a second.” She looked at me with pure loathing. “Nicky, you’re fired. Effective immediately. My legal team will draft a new settlement. You leave with nothing, and you leave knowing this was your fault, not mine.” I rubbed my stinging cheek, my eyes locking onto Jordan’s smug face. “What are you looking at?” Jordan barked. “You don’t like it? Do something about it, you coward—” I didn’t let him finish. I lunged forward and buried my fist in his jaw. CRACK. A muffled scream erupted from him as he hit the floor. Outside the glass walls of the office, the staff stopped dead, staring in shock. Jordan clutched his mouth, blood beginning to seep through his fingers. “Call the police!” Jordan wheezed. “He’s trying to kill me!” Rachel was frozen for a heartbeat, then she screamed, “Security! Get him out of here!” Three guards burst through the door a moment later. “Throw him out!” Rachel pointed at me, her voice shrill and hysterical. “Don’t bother,” I said, straightening my jacket. “I can find the exit myself.” “You’re going to jail for this, you son of a bitch!” Jordan yelled as I walked away. Rachel tried to quiet him down; she didn’t want a scandal affecting the company’s reputation. As I walked through the bullpen, every employee watched me. Most of them had smirks on their faces. To them, I was just the “trophy husband” who sat in an office and did nothing. I was the guy who came in late and left early, the one who didn’t care about the grind. They called me “The Freeloader” behind my back. Seeing me get tossed out was the highlight of their week. I heard the whispers—serves him right, finally getting what’s coming to him. I ignored them all. I walked toward the lobby, my head held high. Just as I reached the glass front doors, I ran into a man getting out of a black sedan. It was Mr. Blackwood, the biggest client the Zachary Group had. He was the powerhouse behind the massive deal Jordan had supposedly “closed” the night before. When Blackwood saw me, his stern face immediately broke into a wide, respectful smile. He reached out his hand. “Nicky! It’s been too long.” I shook his hand, giving him a weary smile. “It has been, Arthur. Though today isn’t my best day.” “Oh? Something wrong?” Before I could answer, Rachel came sprinting toward us. “Mr. Blackwood! I am so sorry, I didn’t realize you’d arrived already. Please, forgive the chaos. Let’s head upstairs,” she said, her voice dripping with sycophancy. She gave the security guards a sharp nod. “Why is he still here? Get him off the property!” The guards stepped toward me, but Blackwood threw up a hand, stopping them in their tracks. “Nicky, what is going on?” “I’ve been fired, Arthur,” I said simply. Blackwood’s face went pale. He turned to Rachel, his voice dropping an octave. “Mrs. Matt, is this true? You fired him?” “Mr. Blackwood, this is an internal matter, I promise it won’t affect our work,” Rachel said, her smile wavering. “Please, ignore him.” As she gestured for the guards to move again, Blackwood’s expression turned to stone. “Mrs. Matt,” he said, his voice echoing through the lobby. “If Nicky is no longer with this company, then Blackwood Industries is no longer with the Zachary Group. All contracts are terminated, effective immediately.” The silence that followed was absolute. Rachel wasn’t just confused—she looked like she’d been struck by lightning. The entire office staff stood paralyzed.

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The tradition was supposed to be a joke—a series of “challenges” my bridesmaids set up before the groom could take me to the church. After the chaos of the games finally wound down, Ben was pushed into the center of the room by his groomsmen. He held the bouquet, dropping to one knee in front of me with practiced grace. The room erupted. “Speech! Speech! Vows! Vows!” I looked down at him, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it might bruise. My fingers white-knuckled the edge of the silk duvet cover, waiting for the romantic declaration I’d been dreaming of for five years. He looked up, meeting my eyes, and offered that soft, boyish smile I loved. “Honey,” he said, his voice steady. “Before I carry you out of here, I’ve got a little something for you to sign. Just a promissory note. For us.” 01 The cheering died instantly. The groomsmen’s hands stayed frozen in mid-air, their palms hovering as they traded confused glances. My best friend, Jade, stood by the bed, her smile curdling into a mask of pure disbelief. “What the hell?” she muttered, the words slipping out before she could catch them. “Did he just say he’s putting her $360,000 in the hole before the ‘I dos’?” Every eye in the room pivoted to her, and she instinctively clamped a hand over her mouth. I sat there, paralyzed. My brain felt like it was trying to process a language I didn’t speak. “What did you just say?” Ben didn’t flinch. He kept that same pleasant expression, the bouquet resting casually on his thigh. He reached into the inner pocket of his tuxedo, pulled out a perfectly folded sheet of paper, and smoothed it out on the bedspread. It was a debt agreement. Black ink on white paper, clinical and cold. It laid out a total of $360,400. It specified a monthly repayment of $1,500. It listed the borrowers as Ben Miller and Norma Rory, and the lender as Margaret Miller. Margaret. His mother. “Stop playing,” I said, my hand trembling as I tried to push the paper back toward him. “Give me the flowers, Ben. Everyone’s waiting. This isn’t the time or the place for a joke like this.” He didn’t move. “I’m not playing,” he said, his tone conversational. “Sign it, and the bouquet is yours. We need to hurry, Norma. The limo is downstairs, and the photographer is on a clock. If we keep dallying, we’re going to miss our window.” I searched his face. He was still smiling—the same gentle, considerate smile he’d worn when he walked through the door. The same smile he’d given me every morning for five years. One of the groomsmen tried to break the tension with a nervous laugh. “Come on, Norma, just sign the thing. Ben’s just doing his due diligence… it’s probably just a formality for the tax man.” Jade snapped her head toward him. “Shut up, Mike!” Ben reached back into his pocket and produced a small, leather-bound ledger. He flipped it open for me to see. It was an itemized account of our life together. Columns of tiny, cramped handwriting: May 4, 2020: Down payment on house – $280,000. July 2024: Kitchen renovation – $45,000. October 2025: Wedding venue deposit – $12,000. February 2026: Engagement ring and ceremony costs – $23,400. “This ledger tracks every cent I’ve had to borrow from my mother since I graduated,” he explained, his voice light, as if he were discussing the weather. “I actually gave us a discount. I didn’t include the jewelry sets, the rehearsal dinner, the bridesmaids’ gifts, or the smaller gifts for your parents. I left out the petty cash.” He looked at me with an air of profound maturity. “We’re adults now, Norma. It’s embarrassing to keep living off my mother’s grace. She worked hard for that money. When she helped me buy the house, I signed a note for that $280k back then. And let’s be honest, I spent a lot on us while we were dating, and I never paid her back.” “So, since we’re getting married, I had my mom tear up that old $280k note. I wrote a new one that covers everything—including the wedding we’re about to walk into…” Ben’s voice faded into a dull hum in my ears. My thumb brushed over the pages of the ledger. He had recorded everything. Down to a $15 charge for a three-pack of tissue boxes. My stomach dropped. He wasn’t performing. This wasn’t a prank for the cameras. He was dead serious. 02 “Ben,” I said, looking directly into his eyes. “What exactly are you doing?” He looked genuinely puzzled, as if I’d asked a remarkably stupid question. “Honey, you’re the one who always says marriage is about radical transparency.” He pointed a manicured finger at the signature line where he had already signed his name. “I signed this last night. I wanted to bring it to you then, but you know the tradition—can’t see the bride before the ceremony. We’re a team now. I couldn’t keep this from you. I told you the very first second I saw you. You can’t be mad at me for being honest.” I stared at his innocent face, unable to tell if he was a brilliant actor or a functional sociopath. I took a slow, jagged breath, swallowing the scream that was clawing at my throat. When I didn’t speak, Ben’s smile faltered. He began smoothing the creases in the paper, muttering under his breath, “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you. I wasn’t even going to ask you to help me pay it back anyway.” So now, somehow, this was my fault for being informed? Seeing my lack of movement, Ben’s face darkened. He snatched the document back. “Fine. If you won’t sign it, don’t sign it. I’ll pay it back myself. My salary is $120k. I’ll just send $8,000 a month to my mother’s account. I won’t touch a dime of your money.” The room, draped in celebratory white and gold, fell into a suffocating silence. One of the groomsmen nudged Ben’s shoulder. Ben took a breath, shoved the papers back into his tuxedo, and brushed the dust off his knees. He stood up. The shadow on his face vanished like a cloud passing the sun, and the “Perfect Groom” mask was back in an instant. “Alright, forget it. Don’t sign. Don’t be mad,” he said, reaching out to ruffle my hair affectionately. “Norma, it’s our big day. Let’s not let a little paperwork ruin the mood.” I flinched away from his touch. His hand froze in mid-air. He didn’t seem to care. He turned, took the bouquet back from his best man, and dropped back onto one knee. “Norma!” he shouted, his voice booming for the benefit of the room. “Will you marry me?” The groomsmen, eager for the nightmare to be over, started clapping rhythmically. “Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!” The cheering started up again, louder than before, as if they could drown out the reality of what had just happened through sheer volume. Jade was standing next to me, her face white with rage. Her mouth opened to speak, but I squeezed her hand, signaling her to wait. I looked down at Ben and felt a cold, sharp smile spread across my face. “You won’t touch a dime of my money, huh?” I asked. “So, how do you plan on paying your $3,500 car note? The utilities? The mortgage? Our groceries? How do we survive if your entire paycheck goes to your mother?” Ben’s eyes darted away. The clapping faltered and died. A flicker of genuine embarrassment crossed his face. “Norma, can we talk about the logistics at the reception? We’re running out of time.” “Then let them wait.” “What’s the matter, Ben? Is the ‘honest’ man suddenly short on answers? You seemed pretty chatty a minute ago.” Ben stood there in silence for a long time. Eventually, he leaned in, his voice a low, frantic whisper. “I was going to bring this up after the honeymoon. Your dad gave you that $60,000 SUV as a wedding gift, right? You told me you almost rear-ended someone last week—you said you were nervous about driving it. I’m worried about you, Norma. There are so many accidents these days. I thought… maybe you shouldn’t drive it. My company car is fine. I can pick you up. I’ll sell my current car, pay off the remaining loan, and I’ll probably have $20,000 left over. I’ll give that all to you.” He reached out to hug me. “See? Everything is fine. Can we go now?” I looked at him and felt a sudden, hysterical urge to laugh. I twisted out of his reach. “Ben, since we’re being ‘transparent,’ let’s put all the cards on the table. You want to give your mom ten grand a month? Fine. You want to drive my car? Fine…” “Norma, have you lost your mind?” Jade hissed. I ignored her, staring straight into Ben’s eyes, which were now sparking with hope. “But I have two conditions.” I held up one finger. “First, we call a lawyer right now. We draft an agreement that gives me fifty-percent equity in the house. Don’t look at me like that—it’s only fair. Once we’re married, our income is marital property. Half of what you earn is legally mine. If your half goes to your mom for ‘your’ house, then my half is paying for our entire lives. I want my name on the deed.” Before he could protest, I held up a second finger. “The SUV was $65,000, but let’s call it $60k. If I’m giving it to you, you owe me $30,000. We’ll notarize a post-nuptial agreement stating that money is my personal, non-marital asset. I’ll transfer the title to you, and it’s yours. As for the other $30,000? You can pay my father back $2,000 a month until it’s settled.” “Agree to that, and we can walk out that door right now.” Ben’s face turned a shade of bruised purple. My heart, meanwhile, felt like a block of ice. He understood exactly what I was doing. I felt a sudden, sharp pang of self-loathing. Five years. I had spent five years with this man, and I was only seeing the real him now, while wearing a three-thousand-dollar veil. But at least I was seeing him. 03 Ben stood up slowly. He didn’t look like a groom anymore. He looked like a debt collector. He looked down at me, his stature meant to intimidate. “Norma, if you don’t want to get married, just say so.” The room went dead silent. I sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at him. He was standing, I was sitting, yet I had never felt like I saw him more clearly. “What did you say?” I asked. “I said,” he repeated, punctuating every word, “if you want to back out, do it now. But don’t use these ridiculous conditions to insult me.” Jade exploded. “Ben, are you kidding me? You brought a freaking invoice to your own wedding, and you’re talking about ‘insulting’ people?” He ignored her, his eyes locked on mine. “Norma, I’ve been more than good to you. My mother bought that house. She let you live there. She never asked you for a cent of rent. I’m taking the debt on myself so you don’t have to. And now you’re asking me for money for a wedding gift? Do you even know what a dowry is? That car was a gift to us, to our family. What does it matter whose name is on the title? Can you even hear yourself right now?” I smiled. It was a cold, empty thing. “A gift to ‘us’?” “Of course,” he said, righteous and indignant. “You marry me, your dad gives us a car. That’s how it works. Why does it matter who drives it?” “By that logic,” I countered, “the house was bought with a loan from your mother. You haven’t paid back a cent of the principal. You’re planning to pay it all back after the wedding using marital funds. So, I’m paying for half of that house. I want half the equity.” “Oh, and that note? It wasn’t just the house. It included the renovations and the engagement ring. My family put $15,000 toward the kitchen too. Do I need to write a note for that? Is your mother the only one whose money is hard-earned? And the reception—is your mother keeping all the cash gifts from the guests, or is she giving them to us?” He stammered, his logic crumbling. “And you say you’re letting me live there ‘for free’? Ben, if you give your mom your whole paycheck, who pays the property taxes? Who pays the insurance? Who pays for the light, the water, the food on the table? Who pays for the children we talked about having? It’s me. It’s all me.” I stood up, leveling my gaze with his. “Ben, stop playing dumb. You’ve crunched the numbers better than an actuary. The house stays yours, but the debt becomes ‘ours.’ I can hear the gears in your head grinding from five miles away.” His face went from pale to flushed in a rhythmic pulse. A crisp knock on the door broke the standoff. My mother peeked her head in, her face tight with anxiety. “Is the game over? The limo driver is losing his mind, and the wedding coordinator just called. They’re supposed to be starting the rehearsal. Why aren’t you guys moving?” Ben turned to my mother. In a heartbeat, his expression transformed. He looked devastated, wounded—a man who had been pushed to his breaking point. “Mrs. Rory,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “Norma… she won’t get in the car.” My mother froze. “What?” “She’s saying she won’t go unless I put her name on the deed to the house today,” he whispered, looking at the floor. “And she wants me to sign a $30,000 note for her own wedding gift. Mom, it’s not that I don’t want her on the deed, but how am I supposed to handle legal paperwork ten minutes before the ceremony?” 04 “Mom, that’s not what happened—” I started to speak, but Ben stepped forward, physically placing himself between me and my mother. “Mrs. Rory, could you give us a second?” he said, his tone dripping with protective concern. “Norma’s just… she’s overwhelmed. Nerves. Let me talk to her alone. I promise, I’ll get her calmed down.” My mother looked at him, then at me. I could see the hesitation in her eyes, the fear of a public scandal. “Norma,” she said softly, her voice the one she used when I was a child with a scraped knee. “Sweetie, it’s your wedding day. Let’s just get through the ceremony, okay? We can talk about everything later. I’ll be waiting outside.” Ben escorted her to the door, and with a polite but firm authority, he cleared the room of bridesmaids, groomsmen, and the bewildered photographer. Jade lingered, her eyes burning holes in the back of Ben’s head, but I nodded to her. It’s okay. Go. The door clicked shut. We were alone. Ben turned around. The “wounded groom” mask fell away, leaving something cold and sharp behind. He looked at me with a detached, clinical stillness. “Norma,” he said, his voice a low hiss. “Are you quite finished with this little tantrum?” I looked at him. Five minutes ago, he was playing the victim for my mother. Now, he looked at me like I was a problem to be solved. A laugh bubbled up in my chest. Five years. I really was the world’s greatest fool. He was a better actor than anyone I’d ever met. “Ben,” I said. “The wedding is off.”

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My first day back in the States, and my first procedure was a standard circumcision on a kid who couldn’t have been more than twenty-two. He spent the entire time signing the consent forms while complaining loudly into his phone at his girlfriend. “It’s a minor surgery, babe. Was it really worth walking away from a ten-million-dollar closing just to fly back here?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “The house is already overflowing with the Birkins and the Rolexes you sent. Seriously, stop buying me things!” He slid the clipboard back to me. My eyes instinctively drifted to the emergency contact line. Joyce Blackwood. It was the same name as my girlfriend. I felt a small, ironic smile tug at the corner of my mouth. “Small world,” I muttered. “That’s my partner’s name, too.” The kid, whose name was Cooper Wells, looked at me with bright, almost manic eyes. He reached out and shook my hand. “No way. Hey, Doc, let me ask you—are all women named Joyce this obsessed? Like, borderline ‘stage-five clinger’ status?” He chuckled, leaning back. “I’m pretty sure I’m only in this mess because of her. She’s all over me, man. Every single night. It’s exhausting. I tried to sneak away to get this done without the drama, but she found out and insisted on flying back from London just to be here when I wake up.” I opened my mouth to defend my Joyce. I wanted to tell him that my Joyce wasn’t like that. She was poised, professional, and fiercely independent—a high-powered executive who valued her space as much as I valued mine. She was the “ice queen” of the corporate world, a woman of refined restraint. Then, Cooper turned his phone toward me, grinning as he showed off a photo of the woman who was “ruining his life” with her devotion. My heart didn’t just skip a beat; it felt like it hit a wall. Smiling radiantly on the screen, her arms wrapped tightly around this boy’s neck, was the woman I had been building a life with for the last five years. Joyce Blackwood. 1 My Joyce wasn’t clingy. She wasn’t an “obsessive” lover. In fact, in the bedroom, she was always measured, almost detached—as if she were checking a task off a very organized to-do list. But here was Cooper, prattling on, his “complaints” dripping with the smug satisfaction of a man who knew he was adored. “Anyway, Doc, the paperwork is done. We good to go?” I forced my features into a professional mask, though the skin of my face felt tight, like it might crack. “I’ll need your pre-op history and allergy files from your primary care physician before we can finalize the surgical suite.” He tapped his forehead, looking annoyed. “Dammit. I think I left those in the safe at home after our pre-marital physicals. I guess we’ll have to push the date.” I looked up, my vision blurring for a second. I had to swallow hard to keep my voice steady. “You’re married? You look… young.” He gave me a look of pure, boyish innocence. “Yeah. Last November twentieth. My twenty-second birthday.” He laughed, a sound that made my stomach churn. “She was so terrified of losing me. I was still in my senior year of college, and she practically dragged me to City Hall. She was convinced I’d run off if she didn’t put a ring on it. She even bought a townhouse right next to campus while I was finishing my degree just so she could be close. Total stalker vibes, right?” He playfully adjusted his expensive watch, acting like her devotion was a burden. Underneath the desk, my hands were shaking so violently I had to grip my knees. November 20th. That was the day my father died. I remembered it with agonizing clarity. I had called her dozens of times that day, desperate for her voice, needing her to hold me while my world collapsed. All I got was a text six hours later: “Mitch, I’m so sorry. I’m stuck in back-to-back meetings and can’t get away. I’ll make it up to you and your mom as soon as this deal closes. Hang in there.” She wasn’t stuck in a meeting. She was busy saying “I do” to a boy ten years younger than me. “Doc? You okay?” Cooper’s voice snapped me back. He stood up, looking slightly concerned. “Look, I’ll just head home and grab the files. My bad.” I stood up abruptly, the chair screeching against the floor. “I’ll go with you.” He blinked, surprised. “Wait, really? Isn’t that… a lot?” “Not at all,” I said, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. “We have an opening in the schedule this afternoon. Better to get it over with. For your health.” We walked down to the parking garage and got into his car—a customized Mercedes G-Wagon with a plush interior that screamed “new money.” Or rather, “her money.” On the drive, he couldn’t stop talking. He told me about the private islands they’d visited, the Michelin-starred restaurants where they had their first dates, the “naughty” details of their first time together. He spoke with a vibrant, arrogant energy that made me want to scream. I stared out the window, my mind a fractured mosaic of every promise Joyce had ever made me. We pulled up to a gated community on the Gold Coast. The Sterling Heights. It was the most expensive development in the city. Joyce and I had walked past these lots years ago, dreaming. We’d promised each other that one day, when we finally made it, this is where we’d build our home. I didn’t realize she’d already moved in with someone else. When he opened the front door of the villa, I froze. The interior design—the white oak floors, the minimalist slate fireplace, the floor-to-ceiling library—was exactly what Joyce and I had sketched out on napkins in a dive bar three years ago. “Did you design this?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. I wanted to believe it was a coincidence. A shared aesthetic. He handed me a glass of water, grinning. “Nah. This was all Joyce. She handled the whole build. It’s pretty sick, right? Look at this—she even put a little recessed charging nook next to the toilet because she knows I like to scroll through my phone in there.” I stood in the hallway, my fingernails digging into my palms so hard I thought I might draw blood. That nook was my idea. I had told her about it one winter night while we were eating takeout in our cramped apartment. I had shown her the blueprints I’d saved on my phone, explaining every little detail I wanted for our “forever home.” She hadn’t been listening to build a life with me. She’d been taking notes for him. Cooper led me upstairs to find the paperwork. As we reached the landing, a white toy poodle came skittering down the hall, yapping joyfully. “Hey, buddy!” Cooper knelt down, scooping the dog up. “Missed your daddy, huh?” The dog suddenly squirmed out of his arms and ran straight to me. It began franticly wagging its tail, jumping against my shins, whimpering with a desperate, familiar recognition. I stood there, paralyzed. I knew the texture of that fur. I knew that specific, high-pitched bark. Cooper laughed. “Man, he usually hates strangers. It’s like he knows you or something.” My throat felt like it was full of glass. “What’s his name?” “Oliver. He’s five.” Cooper patted the dog’s head. “Actually, I’ve only had him for two years. Joyce got him from some ‘relative’ who couldn’t keep him anymore. She said she didn’t want me to be lonely when she was traveling for work.” I let out a ragged breath that felt like a sob. Of course the dog knew me. This was my dog. My grandmother had given him to me before she passed. I’d raised him for three years until the day he “disappeared” from our backyard. I’d spent months looking for him, devastated. Joyce had held me while I cried. “Don’t worry, Mitch. I’m here. I’ll never leave you.” She hadn’t lost him. She had stolen him to give to her new plaything. Cooper pushed open the bedroom door and started rummaging through a desk. My gaze fell on a handmade calendar hanging on the wall. Joyce’s handwriting was unmistakable. Every square was filled with a list of chores: Laundry. Vacuuming. Prep Cooper’s lunch. Clean gym sneakers. “What is that?” I asked, my voice trembling. Cooper looked up and smiled. “Oh, that’s her daily to-do list. I’m a bit of a neat freak and I hate having a maid around, so she takes care of the house. She’s actually really dedicated to it.” I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. When we lived together, we had a cleaning service because she “didn’t have time” for housework. I was the one who did the grocery shopping, the one who washed her silk blouses by hand because she was too busy. For him, she was a tradwife. For me, she was a ghost. “Found it!” Cooper pulled out a folder and handed it to me. I flipped through the pages mechanically. Every signature on the “spouse” line was Joyce Blackwood. “Everything look okay, Doc?” I forced myself to breathe. “Fine. I’ll go back to the clinic and get this processed. I’ll call you with the time.” As I turned to leave, Cooper grabbed my arm. “Hey, don’t rush off. Look at the sky—it’s about to pour, and it’s almost dinner time. We’re practically friends now, right? Stay for a drink. Let my wife cook for you. She’s actually an amazing chef.” She can cook? In five years, I’d never seen her boil an egg. Before I could refuse, he’d pulled me onto the leather sofa and dialed her number. “Hey, babe. Where are you? Get your ass home and start dinner.” The voice on the other end was familiar, but the tone was all wrong. It wasn’t the cool, detached voice I knew. It was warm, indulgent, and breathless. “You brat. I’m at the hospital with nine hundred and ninety-nine roses waiting to pick you up, and you just vanished?” Nine hundred and ninety-nine. In five years, the most she’d ever given me was a dozen carnations on my birthday, ordered by her assistant. “Stop wasting money!” Cooper teased. “Just get home. We have a guest, and I want you to show off, Chef Joyce.” She laughed—a bright, genuine sound I hadn’t heard in years. “Yes, sir! I’m on my way. Be there in ten.” I sat on the sofa, staring at my hands. The roses. The hospital pickup. The “Chef” title. The laughter. These were all versions of her I had never been allowed to see. I couldn’t even imagine the Joyce I knew—the one who wore power suits and lived for board meetings—wearing an apron. I started to stand up, wanting to bolt, when a flash of lightning flickered outside. A second later, a massive crack of thunder shook the house. I flinched, instinctively reaching up to cover my ears. But the sound was muffled, distant. I looked around, confused. Cooper walked over, smiling. “Hey, you hate storms too? Don’t sweat it.” He pointed to the walls. “You could set off a bomb outside and you wouldn’t hear a thing in here. Joyce knew I had a phobia of thunder, so when she built the place, she had the whole house outfitted with industrial-grade acoustic insulation and triple-paned soundproof glass. It’s a tomb in here.” I sat back down, feeling like a fool. When I was a kid, I was in a car accident during a summer storm. Ever since, heavy rain and thunder triggered a visceral panic in me. I’d told Joyce about it. I’d sent her texts during storms, telling her how much I hated being alone when it rained. She used to laugh it off. “Oh, Mitch, don’t be a baby. You just want an excuse for me to come over, don’t you? I’m busy at work. Go to sleep. Goodnight.” I’d spent so many nights wrapped in a duvet, sweating and shaking, biting my knuckles so I wouldn’t cry out. She hadn’t thought I was being dramatic. She just didn’t care enough to quiet the world for me. Numbly, I reached for a glass of water on the coffee table. My hand slipped, splashing water over a stack of papers. “Dammit, I’m sorry,” I muttered, grabbing a napkin. “No big deal,” Cooper said, waving it off. “That’s old stuff anyway.” But my hand stopped mid-air. The header of the document caught my eye: OFFICIAL ACCIDENT REPORT. “You were in a car accident?” I asked. The format was hauntingly familiar. Cooper leaned back, nonchalant. “Not me. A cousin of mine. Drunk driving, hit some guy. It was pretty bad, actually. I was going to let the law handle it—I mean, he was wasted—but his family begged me to help. I mentioned it to Joyce, and man, that woman is a magician. I don’t know who she paid or what strings she pulled, but the whole thing just… went away.” He shook his head, almost impressed. “Her ‘problem-solving’ skills are honestly kind of terrifying.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a cold hand. “Can I… see that?” Cooper shrugged. “Sure. Knock yourself out.” I turned the page to the “Victim” section. My father’s name was written there in cold, black ink. The date. The location. Everything matched. But the report in my hand said “Minor injuries, victim refused treatment.” My father didn’t refuse treatment. He was dragged thirty feet. The driver had panicked and backed over him, crushing his neck. He died in the street, alone. I had spent a year screaming for justice. I’d filed appeals, hired private investigators, and fought every step of the way. But every door had been slammed in my face. My mother had been threatened. Someone had spray-painted “DROP IT” in red on our front door. Joyce had held me while I was hysterical, whispering, “Mitch, let it go. You can’t fight people this powerful. The system is rigged. Please, for your mother’s safety, just stop.” I had knelt at my father’s grave and apologized for being too weak to find his killer. I never imagined the person who buried the truth was the woman sleeping beside me. My face went pale, the blood draining away until I felt faint. Without Cooper noticing, I slid my phone out and recorded his voice as he continued to brag about Joyce’s “connections.” Then, I took a clear photo of the forged report. I sent the files immediately to my family’s old lawyer. I took a deep breath, forcing the rage back down into my marrow. I adjusted my expression and sat back just as the sound of the garage door opening echoed through the house. Joyce walked in, hidden behind a mountain of nine hundred and ninety-nine long-stemmed red roses. She didn’t see me at first. She walked straight to Cooper, tilted her head back, and kissed him with a hunger I had never experienced from her. Cooper pushed her back playfully. “Okay, okay, settle down, you animal. We have company. Go put those down and get to work. I’m starving.” Joyce nodded obediently, her eyes shimmering with a soft, adoring light. He took her hand and led her toward the living room. “Joyce, babe, let me introduce you. This is—” The words died in his throat. The roses slipped from Joyce’s arms, scattering across the hardwood floor like a bloody wound. In the silence that followed, I stood up. My voice was low, steady, and dead. “Hello, Joyce. I didn’t realize you’d gotten married. Why wasn’t I invited to the wedding?”

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My boyfriend Robertson has an annual salary of $500,000. He said once he saved up $200,000, he’d marry me. But I waited from age 25 to 33, and he still hadn’t saved enough. The first year, he said he’d just started working and expenses were high, so he couldn’t save any money. The second year, he said he needed to buy a new car, so he had no money to marry me. All the way to the eighth year, he got completely drunk at a class reunion and asked me to pick him up. At the door, I heard a burst of mocking laughter. “If Elliot wanted to get married, forget $200,000—even if it was two million, Robertson would cough it up, right?” “Obviously! If Elliot hadn’t gone abroad back then, where would Elia even fit in? Forget $200,000—I bet if Robertson just played the victim card, she’d even pay him to marry her!” Robertson’s hoarse voice leaked through the crack in the door. “Stop it. Elia’s been with me for eight years after all. I will marry her eventually.” “It’s just that I’ve already worn her out completely. She’s not worth $200,000. At most, she’s worth one day of my salary—two thousand bucks.” With red-rimmed eyes, I called my mother, a top-tier matchmaker. “Mom, that handsome billionaire you mentioned—I’d like to meet him.”

Someone teased, “Two thousand? Robertson really knows his stuff—that’s exactly what the top girl at a nightclub charges for one night.” This remark triggered a wave of laughter. “If you ask me, even two thousand is overpaying. A woman in her thirties—how could she be worth the same price as a young, pretty girl?” “It’s only because Robertson is kind-hearted that he’s willing to marry her at all.” The mockery inside the door continued. “What’s said tonight, don’t let Elia…” Behind me, I seemed to hear Robertson’s slurred reprimand, but I couldn’t process a single word. I covered my face and hurried away from the bar. When I reached the entrance, an overwhelming wave of nausea surged up. I dry-heaved over a trash can. Yet my mind masochistically replayed those overheard words again and again. I couldn’t believe that the person I’d loved for eight years had only ever seen me as a cheap substitute. The night wind stung my eyes red. I couldn’t remember how I hailed a cab or how I got into it. A distinctive ringtone jolted me awake. I fumbled for my phone. A new message popped up in my pinned chat. “Babe, where are you? I feel terrible. Come pick me up.” Robertson was the picture of a rational elite in public, but in private with me, he’d act all clingy. I used to fall for that act completely. Now I just stared blankly, thinking— It seems Robertson really does love her. Even for me, his first love’s substitute, he’s willing to invest so much effort into performing. I didn’t reply. Instead, I made a phone call. Soon, a familiar voice answered irritably. “Why are you suddenly calling me?” The emotions I’d been suppressing for so long suddenly collapsed in the face of my closest person. “Mom, you were right. Robertson never intended to marry me…” “That guy you wanted to set me up with—I’ll meet him.” Before, when Robertson kept stalling on the wedding money, I hated nothing more than my mom’s nagging about marriage. Now, I desperately craved a new relationship to numb the pain of this one. “You’ve finally come to your senses! Don’t worry—I’m a top matchmaker. This one’s a rare catch. Robertson and all the rest can go to hell.” “But are you sure you’ve let go?” I smiled faintly. “Mom, you know I’m the most stubborn person alive. When I decided on Robertson, I could wait eight years for a promise. But once I’ve made up my mind to leave, I won’t hesitate for a second.” Some walls only need to be hit once. I hung up the phone and wiped away my tears. When I got out of the car, aside from slightly red eyes, there wasn’t a trace of vulnerability on my face.

In the early morning hours, half-asleep, a body carrying the faint scent of tequila wrapped around me. The man mumbled pitifully, “I stood outside in the wind for so long. Why didn’t you come pick me up?” It was as if everything I’d heard last night was just a hallucination, and Robertson and I were still an ordinary, happy couple. Until Robertson buried his head against my neck and murmured vaguely, “Elliot, you’ve finally come back…” I shoved him away awkwardly and fled to the guest bedroom. How pathetic you are, Elia, to be swayed by a little false tenderness. I stared at my reflection in the mirror—my face that resembled Elliot’s—and pinched my palm until it turned red. The next morning, Robertson came out of the kitchen wearing an apron, carrying a plate of heart-shaped fried eggs. When he saw me, the corner of his mouth curved upward. “Elia, come have breakfast!” On the bathroom counter sat a pair of couple’s toothbrushes—blue for me, pink for Robertson—nestled intimately together. I remembered when I handed Robertson the pink toothbrush. He’d scowled but obediently accepted it anyway. Eight years of affection carried too much weight. Little sweet reminders like this were scattered everywhere in this house. I splashed water on my face and collected myself. Sitting down at the table, I slowly stabbed the heart-shaped eggs on my plate into pieces. “Robertson, let’s break up.” The plate and fork collided with a harsh sound. The smile on Robertson’s face vanished instantly. “Elia, that’s not a funny joke.” I looked at him seriously and said it again. Robertson, who’d never frowned even when facing the toughest cases, showed rare emotional leakage. “You’ve been acting strange since yesterday. You didn’t pick me up. You didn’t wait for me to come home.” Robertson’s superior features darkened with anger. His hand, veins bulging, gripped my shoulder tightly. “Elia, what exactly are you trying to pull?” I didn’t want to admit I’d heard what he said yesterday. Those mocking words humiliated me. I shook off Robertson’s hand and went straight to the bedroom to grab the luggage I’d packed the night before. “Robertson, I’ve waited for you for eight years. I don’t want to wait anymore. It’s that simple. Let’s break up.” Robertson’s pitch-black eyes stared at me unblinkingly. He laughed mockingly. “Oh, I get it. You’re upset because I don’t have money?” “You’re practically menopausal, and you’re still playing hard to get? Isn’t it a bit late for that? Too bad—I’m not falling for it.” My heart stabbed with pain. He knew I was most sensitive about my age. I didn’t want to say another word. I shouldered my luggage and headed for the door. “Elia, within a week, you’ll come crawling back to me like a dog begging to get back together.” I closed the door, locking Robertson’s confident voice inside. Downstairs, I casually tossed my key into the trash can. I wasn’t some naive Natasha experiencing love for the first time. Since I’d decided to leave, I wouldn’t give myself the chance to turn back and humiliate myself again. Sitting in the car heading to the law firm, my mom’s message arrived right on time. “You actually know that blind date—Uncle Stephen’s youngest son, Nicholas. He’s a young entrepreneur. Want to set up a time to meet?” “Sure. I’ll go meet him after work.”

When I arrived at the firm, I submitted my prepared resignation letter. My boss looked somewhat surprised. “Elia, you’re very capable. Why resign?” I really liked the atmosphere at this firm, but unfortunately Robertson was a partner. I didn’t want any further entanglement with him. I smiled faintly without directly answering. “Personal reasons. Before the resignation process is complete, please don’t announce my departure.” When I left the office, there were cupcakes I loved on my desk, along with a cup of hot milk. My colleague Natasha teased with a smile, “Attorney Robertson brought them. He said you didn’t eat much breakfast.” Years ago I’d worked too hard and developed stomach problems. Robertson always remembered. Worried that takeout wasn’t clean, he’d personally cook three meals a day whenever he had time. Nutritious and tasty, he’d spoiled my stomach until it became finicky. A commotion pulled me from my memories. “Everyone, quiet down. Let me introduce our new colleague—Elliot. She just returned from abroad, an elite talent officially joining our firm today…” Applause rang out enthusiastically, but I just stared blankly as Elliot intimately linked arms with Robertson, the two of them smiling at each other. “What a handsome couple. They’re so well-matched.” “I heard Attorney Robertson personally requested that Elliot be his assistant.” “You guys don’t know—Elliot is Attorney Robertson’s first love. Attorney Robertson stayed single all these years because of her.” Natasha heard these comments and glanced at me awkwardly. Using his career as an excuse, Robertson had never made our relationship public. Only Natasha in the entire company knew. I handed her my breakfast and said flatly, “Want it?” After receiving a negative answer, I threw the breakfast into the trash. I felt in my pocket—only a half-melted chocolate remained. Robertson had prepared this in case my blood sugar dropped. I casually tossed it away and went downstairs to buy different breakfast. While waiting for the elevator, Robertson pulled me into a deserted area. He snatched the bread from my hand, frowning slightly. “You have stomach problems—you can’t eat things that are hard and cold.” “Stop throwing a tantrum. I’ll go buy you something else.” Before I could say “no need,” Elliot walked over. “Robertson!” Robertson instinctively pushed me away, explaining to Elliot as if to avoid suspicion. “Just an ordinary colleague. Not close…” Watching the two of them walk away, I silently picked up the bread that had fallen on the floor. My long-dormant stomach condition came back with a vengeance. I curled up against the wall, hurting so much tears came out, but this time there was no one to warm my stomach for me. Gently brushing the dust off the wrapper, I ate the entire breakfast mixed with tears, one bite at a time. By the time work ended, Robertson and Elliot still hadn’t returned. Colleagues teased with smiles, “Looks like we’ll have good news from the firm soon.” When I heard these words this morning, my heart still ached. Now, only a numb, dull pain remained. I finished my handover work and said goodbye to Natasha. She looked at me reluctantly. “Elia, don’t be sad. Robertson doesn’t deserve you!” I smiled and sent her a copy of my client list. “Hope you become a top attorney soon!” While waiting for the elevator, Elliot posted an ambiguous update on Twitter. Someone in the firm’s gossip group shared it, and the long-dormant chat instantly exploded. I didn’t look closely because my blind date had already arrived downstairs. I left the group and deleted Robertson’s Twitter. I walked toward the man holding flowers by the coffee shop. “Hello, I’m Elia.”

We were both in our thirties. Nicholas and I were going on this blind date with marriage in mind. Compatible conditions, good conversation, and both sets of parents knew each other well. After one date, just as Nicholas and I were about to make our relationship official, Robertson suddenly called. His voice carried the haze of alcohol and a fragile quality. “Elia, I feel awful. Can you please come get me?” Hearing that long-lost form of address, I momentarily spaced out. Robertson was five years younger than me. When we first met, he was still quite shy. “Elia, how do I revise this document?” “Elia, you’re amazing—you can win such difficult cases!” “Elia, will you be my girlfriend?” Seeing Nicholas’s concerned expression, I snapped back to reality and coldly refused. “No. I’m not available.” Robertson’s voice sounded very weak. “Don’t hang up. I’m at HAPPY bar, locked in a really cold, dark place. My phone’s dying. Only you can save me, Elia…” “Bang—” The sound of something heavy hitting the floor. The call disconnected. “Robertson!” I gripped my phone tightly, but there was no further response. Robertson had severe claustrophobia. Phone dead, no one around. If I really was the only person Robertson could contact, if something really happened to him because of me… I grabbed my bag and apologized to Nicholas. “It’s so late—let me drive you. I have a car. Your friend will be fine.” Nicholas showed no annoyance at being stood up. Instead, he gently comforted me. In the car, I clutched my phone, afraid of missing Robertson’s call for help. There wasn’t much traffic at night. We quickly arrived at HAPPY bar. The moment the car stopped, I anxiously jumped out. I called Robertson countless times. No one answered. My heart sank to the bottom. I was just about to call the police when I heard a familiar voice from a private room. “Robertson, will Elia really come?” “Don’t worry, Elliot. Elia is Robertson’s most obedient dog—guaranteed to come whenever called!” I pushed open the door. The laughter and noise cut off abruptly. When Robertson saw me, he smirked triumphantly. “I knew you couldn’t let me go!” He waved the game card in front of him. “Don’t worry—Elliot just lost at Truth or Dare. I helped her call someone, and I didn’t expect you’d actually be that free.” The worry from making countless unanswered calls, the heels of my feet rubbed raw from running frantically in high heels—all for one sentence: “I didn’t expect you’d actually be that free.” Elliot covered her mouth and giggled. “Sorry, I’ve been in a bad mood lately. Robertson wanted to cheer me up. Don’t take it personally, Elia. You really do have a talent for making people laugh.” She leaned intimately on Robertson’s shoulder. “Thanks for coming on call like that—just like a nanny. If you’re willing, I can pay you market rate.” A wave of knowing laughter rippled through the room. Robertson frowned slightly. “She’s not—” I cut off his words, lifted my head, and smiled at Elliot. “Sure. A nanny’s market rate is $6,000 a month. Eight years comes to $576,000 total. Transfer it to me.” Elliot’s smile froze. Tears squeezed from her eyes. The people who’d been jeering moments ago awkwardly shut their mouths. Robertson pulled Elliot behind him protectively, his face iron-dark. “Why are you making things difficult for Elliot over this little bit of money?” He pulled out his phone and operated it a few times. “Ding—” The money arrived. The notification that my resignation had been approved was also somehow already sitting in my inbox. I laughed mockingly at myself. He’d rather pay out $500,000 to bail Elliot out than spend $200,000 on wedding money for me. “Thank you, Attorney Robertson. I wish you both a happy marriage.” I hadn’t walked far when Robertson chased after me. “Elliot and I are innocent. Stop making a scene. Consider that $500,000 your wedding money. I’ll get our marriage license with you tomorrow, okay?” I dodged his hand and pointed at Nicholas waiting for me at the entrance. “Attorney Robertson, please keep your distance. My boyfriend is right there.”

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After Hearing My First Love Rafael’s Inner Thoughts, I Pulled My Investment When I was walking home with my first love, I suddenly heard his inner thoughts. [Claudia is so annoying, always insisting we leave school together every day.] [If I didn’t need her family’s resources for business, I wouldn’t even bother pretending to care about her.] [It’s pouring rain outside. I wonder if Giuliana brought an umbrella.] I froze mid-step. Giuliana—the beautiful scholarship student who just transferred here. Rafael stood before me with downcast eyes, his jawline tight and aloof. He clearly hadn’t spoken aloud, yet his voice continued to explode in my mind. [I heard Giuliana lives in the poor part of downtown. The roads there aren’t very good either.] [I’m really worried about her. I wish I could walk her home.] [If only I could find an excuse to ditch Claudia…] My footsteps halted. I felt momentarily stunned. Rafael lifted his eyelids, his expression cold and indifferent as he glanced at me. We’d known each other for years. I knew he was naturally distant and reserved, never good with words. I’d long grown accustomed to this way of interacting. But now, I seemed to see clear, unmistakable disgust in his eyes. Suddenly, a timid female voice came from the back door of the classroom. “Rafael, I… my umbrella broke.” I instinctively turned around. Giuliana was standing behind me, though I hadn’t noticed when she’d appeared. She clutched a broken floral umbrella in her hands, one of the ribs hanging down limply. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t bother you, but I’m afraid my textbooks will get wet…” She trailed off, then quickly glanced up at Rafael. Her eyes were red-rimmed, brimming with grievance and anxiety. She’d just transferred here last week and rarely spoke to other students. Her sudden request for help caught me off guard. After all, Rafael was notorious for hating to be bothered. He spoke and acted without sparing anyone’s feelings. But this time, after a moment’s thought, his low voice suddenly rang out: “Claudia, I can’t go home with you today.” “Since Giuliana lives so far away, I’ll walk her home instead.” Rafael’s expression remained ice-cold as always. If I hadn’t heard those inner thoughts, I might have actually believed this was a purely rational decision. “What about me?” I asked with a touch of mockery. Rafael frowned, then spoke: “Isn’t your driver waiting at the school gate?” “Just make do with her umbrella for now. Your house is close anyway—you won’t get wet for more than a few steps.” With that, he shoved Giuliana’s umbrella into my hands without allowing any refusal.

Seeing my silence, Giuliana’s expression filled with guilt and unease. She twisted the hem of her shirt with her fingers and spoke in a trembling voice: “No, how can Claudia use this broken umbrella…” “I’m sorry for causing you both trouble.” “Never mind, I’ll just run home.” She made as if to leave, but Rafael grabbed her arm. Rafael looked at me in silence, frowning, his thin lips pressed into a cold line. But his inner voice rang out in my mind. [Claudia’s definitely going to throw a tantrum again. I’m so sick of it.] [All her life, she’s just relied on her family’s power, thinking everyone should revolve around her.] [But I really don’t want to indulge her anymore. I like Giuliana—do I have to spell it out?] [Giuliana can’t possibly walk home in the rain…] I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe, as if something in my chest was slowly shattering. Before Rafael could speak, I voluntarily stepped back: “You two go ahead.” Rafael let out a relieved breath and turned to the side, his voice gentle: “Giuliana, give me your backpack.” Giuliana glanced at me hesitantly. Then she nodded obediently and ducked under Rafael’s umbrella. Before long, their silhouettes disappeared into the curtain of rain. I looked down at the ground. Then I tossed Giuliana’s broken umbrella by the back door and walked into the rain. At the school gate, Sargent’s car sat with its lights on. He froze for a moment, then quickly grabbed an umbrella and ran over: “Miss Claudia, why are you alone? Where’s Rafael?” “Let’s go home first.” I leaned back against the seat, my eyes stinging. When I got home, my mother’s face was full of worry. She dried my hair while chattering: “What were you thinking, child! Why are you soaked like this? Where’s Rafael? Doesn’t he walk you home every day?” “Look at you—your lips are completely pale! Your father’s still overseas on that business deal. If he finds out, he’ll fly back overnight…” “Mom.” I interrupted her with downcast eyes, my voice hoarse. “I want to go back to my room and sleep.” Her gaze lingered on my face for a moment. She didn’t press further, instead turning toward the kitchen to tell the housekeeper to prepare dinner for me. I changed my clothes and went upstairs. Behind the closed door, all sounds were shut out. But the scenes from earlier kept replaying uncontrollably in my mind. I thought of the faint smile that curved Rafael’s lips when he faced Giuliana. Then I recalled the way he looked at me—full of perfunctory dismissal and impatience. At this moment, I finally believed with certainty that those inner thoughts I’d heard weren’t hallucinations. So that’s how it was. Beyond using me, Rafael felt nothing but disgust toward me. We’d known each other for years. I’d thought he was naturally aloof, maintaining that cold demeanor with everyone. Only today did I see through it all. He wasn’t incapable of expressing emotion—he just despised me. In the quiet room, my phone suddenly rang. On the screen, the caller was Rafael.

The moment I answered, Rafael’s voice came through with an accusation: “Claudia, did you go home and tell your parents something?” “It rained so hard today. I was just walking Giuliana home. Did you really have to complain to my father about it?” His breathing came through the receiver—rapid and irregular. I rarely saw him lose his composure like this. “Rafael,” my voice was calm, “did you call just to blame me?” “Or do you think that as long as my family doesn’t ask, your father won’t find out what happened today?” Rafael fell silent for a moment. Over the phone, my ability to hear his thoughts seemed to fail, but I could imagine his annoyed expression. After a long pause, he finally spoke coldly: “Couldn’t you just explain things for me?” “In the end, you’re just throwing a tantrum, deliberately…” I took a deep breath and cut him off abruptly: “Rafael, why should I cover for what you did?” The voice on the other end stopped dead. I laughed coldly: “You think your father heard about this from me?” “Rafael, don’t you have any idea how many people your father has stationed around us to keep watch?” “After all, he knows better than anyone how many projects my family has handed over to…” A dull thud suddenly came from the other end of the line. Rafael spoke through gritted teeth: “Are you done yet?!” “What?” I continued. “If I don’t say it, does that mean it doesn’t exist?” All these years, there were things I never mentioned, but that didn’t mean I was unaware. Rafael’s family had many children and was a sprawling clan. Initially, Rafael was just the quietest, most unremarkable one. The Walker family had been established in San Francisco for three generations, and I was their only daughter—the sole heir to Walker Corporation. My parents doted on me and, by extension, looked after Rafael, my childhood companion. Because of this, the Harrington family business, which had teetered on the brink of bankruptcy multiple times, not only paid off its debts but also secured countless resources and projects. With the Walker family’s support, Rafael gradually earned recognition within his own family. The other end of the line went quiet for a long time, as if weighing pros and cons. After a while, Rafael finally spoke in a low voice: “Claudia, I won’t contact you for a while.” “Reflect on yourself properly.” His tone carried an air of fearless indifference. Before I could respond, he hung up. After that phone call, Rafael and I entered a cold war. I knew he was waiting for me to cave first, just like every other argument we’d had before. The cold war lasted three days. On my way back to the classroom, Giuliana came running straight into me. By the time I registered what happened, she was already sitting on the ground, clutching her ankle in pain. Students in the hallway stopped in their tracks, their gazes converging on us. From the crowd, a low male voice suddenly rang out. “Claudia, what are you doing?!” I looked toward the voice and met Rafael’s disgusted stare. Giuliana bit her lower lip, her voice weak: “It’s not Claudia’s fault. I was walking too fast.” [And she’s still making excuses for Claudia even now. Giuliana is just too kind.] [I only ignored Claudia for a few days, and she’s already taking it out on Giuliana. Still as spoiled as ever.] [Once I take over my father’s company, I definitely won’t let Claudia off easy.] Rafael’s face remained impassive, but his inner thoughts exploded like rapid fire in my mind.

I glanced at the students gathered around to watch the drama, my tone calm: “She’s the one who ran into me.” Rafael frowned: “Come on, what’s the point of making excuses?” “Did she sprain her own ankle just to frame you?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. I glanced at Giuliana’s aggrieved face and said flatly: “Yeah, because she knew someone would come running over like a dog to defend her without asking any questions.” The hallway fell silent for a moment. Giuliana looked up with grievance, sobbing softly: “Claudia, I know you don’t like me, but how can you insult Rafael like that?” “He was just trying to speak up for me…” Rafael clenched his fists, knuckles white with restraint. “Claudia, do you have to be this unreasonable?” “Looks like these past few days haven’t taught you where you went wrong.” I cut him off abruptly: “If you think I’m being unreasonable, then don’t associate with me anymore.” “I’ll tell my parents when I get home. You’d better prepare yourself mentally.” [There she goes again, using her family’s power to control me whenever she loses her temper.] [Ha, it’s all an act. If I give her the cold shoulder for a few days, she’ll come crawling back like always.] [Once she cools down in a couple days, I’ll make her apologize to Giuliana.] His inner voice laid out all his thoughts crystal clear. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.” After a long pause, Rafael coldly dropped that single sentence. Then he bent down, slipped one arm under Giuliana’s knees, and lifted her into his arms. “Bear with the pain. I’ll take you to the nurse’s office.” He looked down at her, his voice gentle. Giuliana rested against his shoulder, tears still streaking her face. But the corners of her lips curled upward, and the look she gave me carried a hint of provocation. I ignored them and turned toward the classroom. My father finished handling overseas business and returned home that evening. The study door closed. He sat behind the desk and casually tossed a stack of documents onto the table. “Take a look. The Harrington family submitted these.” “That project on the east side of town—Rafael’s father has approached me several times, but I’ve held off on making a decision.” “Claudia, what do you think?” I understood my father’s attitude toward the Harrington family. All these years, Harrington Industries had relied on Walker Corporation’s resources and connections to gradually establish a foothold in the business world. My father had always been straightforward and forthright. He despised the Harrington family’s calculating shrewdness. In the past, I’d been infatuated with Rafael. Out of love for me, my father kept investing in and handing projects to the Harrington family. After all, back then, my father genuinely considered Rafael a future son-in-law. But after hearing about recent events, he’d clearly lost the patience to maintain that relationship. I looked at him calmly: “Dad, I was foolish before, but I’ve figured things out now.” “Our partnership with the Harrington family ends here.” He smiled faintly and pushed the stack of project proposals aside: “Alright, then we’ll do as you say.” “But I want you to remember—you’re my precious daughter, the future heir to this company.” “Claudia, you don’t need to bow your head to anyone.”

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I loved Leah Williams for twelve years. I gave her everything. A bullet from her brother’s true killer has been lodged in my spine for three years, causing me unbearable pain. Yet she treated the real murderer like family and me like a dog, forcing me to kneel and watching me suffer endless humiliation. Clinging to my last breath, I only wanted to give her the truth before I died. she pushed me into the abyss herself,smiling as she said I deserved it. Only when I cut open my own chest and dug out that blood-soaked bullet did she finally panic. And I no longer had the strength to look at her one more time. Silas POV I loved Leah Williams for twelve years. From the day the Williams family brought me back as a bodyguard at eighteen, I gave her everything. For these twelve years, I’d taken knives for her, drinks for her, and in that kidnapping case, I’d shielded her from everything. But now, I was just a dog at her feet, beaten and cursed at will. “Silas, kneel down.” Leah sat on the sofa, looking at me with eyes that held none of the love from years past. Only hatred. Standing beside her was the scholarship student she sponsored, and also her deceased brother Ethan’s best friend, Zane Sullivan. Zane wore a pair of limited-edition sneakers splattered with mud, looking at me with feigned innocence. “Leah, Silas was head of security after all. Making him clean my shoes seems a bit much. I can just wipe them with a tissue myself.” “What does he have to complain about?” Leah glanced at me, her eyes full of disgust. “When Ethan died, he said he’d spend his whole life making it up to me. Now I’m just asking him to clean a shoe. Do I need to beg him?” I stood there, the bullet lodged near the major artery in my spine throbbing with dull pain, pressing on my optic nerve and making my vision blur with double images. Whenever Ethan was mentioned, she lost control. I didn’t blame her. Because I also hated myself for failing to save Ethan. He was Leah’s own brother, and someone I’d desperately tried but failed to save. No one knew that shot wasn’t a stray bullet. It was deliberately fired by Zane, the man now sitting beside her, in the chaos. The only evidence was that bullet with its distinctive rifling marks. To keep Zane from destroying it, I’d forced myself to leave it lodged in my spine. It pressed on my nerves, making surgery impossible. Removing it meant death. Not removing it also meant death. I swallowed the metallic taste in my throat and offered no resistance, slowly bending my knees. I lowered my head and reached out to clean Zane’s shoes. My vision blurred again. A precursor to blindness. I gritted my teeth and used my sleeve to wipe the mud spots from the edges of Zane’s shoes. “What a good dog.” Leah looked down at me from above, her eyes full of revulsion. She pulled Zane up to head upstairs. “Zane, let’s go upstairs. Don’t let him ruin the mood.” “Okay, Leah.” As Zane passed me, his foot ground hard into the back of my hand. The pain pierced through me, but I didn’t make a sound. Only after I heard the door close upstairs did I collapse on the floor, gasping for breath. I fumbled in my pocket for that critical condition notice. Vital organ failure. Less than a month to live. Leah. When I’m dead and they remove that bullet, you’ll know the truth. In the middle of the night, the bullet in my spine began pressing on my nerves. The pain made me break out in cold sweat. I crawled up from the storage room and felt my way to the bathroom. My vision still hadn’t recovered. I could only see blurred gray shadows. I stumbled to the medicine cabinet above the sink, hands trembling as I searched for the heavy-duty painkillers. The doctor had prescribed them, saying they’d help me go more peacefully. Found them. Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, the weight in my hand disappeared. Someone had taken the pill bottle. “Silas, up in the middle of the night looking for candy?” Zane’s voice echoed eerily in the bathroom. I forced down the excruciating pain and reached out my hand. “Give it to me.” “Give it to you?” Zane laughed lightly, shaking the pill bottle in his hand. “These are prescription drugs with morphine, Silas. Taking too many isn’t good for the brain.” “Zane!” I gritted my teeth. “Give me the medicine!” If I didn’t take it, I’d die from the pain tonight. Zane walked to the toilet and, right in front of me, unscrewed the cap. He poured the pills into the toilet. “Oops, my hand slipped.” Zane turned around, a malicious smile on his face. “Silas, you don’t have many days left anyway. Just tough it out, right? Saves wasting resources.” Rage instantly overwhelmed the pain. I lunged forward and grabbed Zane by the collar, slamming him hard against the tile wall. “You’re asking for it!” “Help! Leah! Help!” Zane suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs. The door was kicked open and Leah rushed in. Without thinking, she raised her hand and slapped me across the face.

Silas POV The slap knocked my head to the side, my ears ringing, my already blurred vision growing even darker. “Silas! Have you lost your mind?” Leah shoved me aside and anxiously pulled Zane behind her, checking his neck. “Zane, are you hurt? Does it hurt anywhere?” Zane’s eyes reddened. “I just saw Silas wasn’t feeling well in the middle of the night and wanted to get him some water. But he said I was being fake and tried to kill me.” “I didn’t.” I endured the nearly fracturing pain in my spine, my voice hoarse. “He threw away my medicine.” “Enough!” Leah cut me off coldly, her eyes disappointed. “Don’t I know what kind of person he is? But you, Silas, ever since Ethan died, you’ve become twisted!” She glanced at the empty spot on the sink where the pill bottle had been and sneered. “Medicine? What medicine? I think you’re just having drug cravings.” I opened my mouth, but in the end could only close my eyes bitterly. What was the point of explaining? In her eyes, I was nothing but a lowlife who’d sell out her brother just to survive. “Since you have so much energy, go clear your head.” Leah pointed at the pitch-black rainy night outside the window. “Go stand in the yard. Don’t come back without my permission.” Zane hid behind her, revealing a triumphant smile. I took a deep breath, suppressing the blood churning in my chest. “Yes.” I braced myself against the wall to stand straight, trying not to let her see my trembling legs. I turned and walked into the pouring rain. The ice-cold rain pelted my body, the bone-chilling cold slightly easing the burning in my spine. I stood in the mud, facing Leah’s bedroom window. The lights blazed there. I could vaguely see Leah drying Zane’s hair, her movements so gentle it made my eyes sting. Once, that tenderness had belonged only to me. I couldn’t help touching my chest. Twenty-eight days left. Leah, I hope these twenty-eight days pass quickly. Even faster. I stood in the rain all night. Just before dawn, I couldn’t hold on anymore. Everything went black and I collapsed into the muddy water. When I woke again, I was in the hospital emergency room. I moved my fingers and found myself lying on a simple hospital bed with an IV drip in my hand. “Awake?” A cool voice came. Leah sat in a chair beside me, peeling an apple. She didn’t look at me, just focused on peeling the apple. “The doctor said you had low blood sugar and caught a chill. Didn’t manage to die.” She cut off a piece of the peeled apple, but instead of giving it to me, turned to hand it to someone on the next bed. Only then did I notice Zane was also in this hospital room. He wore a patient gown, his face ruddy, eating the apple Leah fed him with relish. “Thank you, Leah. So sweet.” Zane swallowed a bite of apple and turned to look at me with false concern. “Silas, really, you shouldn’t push yourself when you’re not well. Last night you collapsed in the yard. If Leah hadn’t found you early, you might actually be dead.” Watching this scene, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant hand. I was the one who’d stood in the rain until I collapsed last night. But now, the one receiving care and concern was him. I spoke, my throat as hoarse as if I’d swallowed sand. “I want water.” Leah paused. She set down the fruit knife, pulled out a tissue and casually wiped her hands, sneering. “Water? Don’t you have hands?” “Leah, Silas still has a fever…” Zane offered fake advice from the side. “Let him burn to death for all I care.” Leah stood up, looking at me. “Silas, do you know what else the doctor said?” She walked to my bedside, her tone ice-cold. “The doctor said all your internal indicators are completely messed up, like you’ve been taking some kind of psychiatric medication long-term. So tell me, are you really having drug cravings?” My heart jumped. Had the doctor made up that lie to cover the inflammatory response caused by the bullet in my spine? Or had Zane already bribed the doctor? I looked at Zane. He was winking at me, pointing at the door. In that instant, I saw a figure in a white coat flash by the doorway. The attending physician Zane had bought off. “I’m not addicted to drugs.” I defended myself weakly. “You know the truth yourself.” Leah straightened up, the last trace of warmth disappearing from her eyes. “Silas, you disgust me. How could Ethan have idolized someone like you?” “Since you’re not dead, stop wasting money at the hospital. Pull out the IV and go buy Zane a sandwich. He didn’t get to rest last night because he had to bring you to the hospital.”

Silas POV I looked at the IV bag still more than half full overhead. It was antibiotics, life sustaining for my current condition. But I said nothing. I reached out and directly pulled the needle from the back of my hand. Blood immediately gushed out, dripping along my fingertips onto the white sheets. “I’ll go buy it.” I pressed the still-bleeding back of my hand and shakily stood up, gripping the bed frame. Everything went black again. I leaned against the wall, shuffling out step by step. Behind me came the sound of Leah peeling an orange, and her gentle murmur to Zane. “Eat slowly, don’t choke.” As I reached the door, I couldn’t help looking back. Leah was feeding a segment of orange into Zane’s mouth, smiling warmly. That smile I’d once dreamed of protecting. I turned and walked into the bustling hospital corridor. I leaned against the wall corner, gasping for breath, pressing hard on the old scar over my chest. Soon. Ethan, wait a little longer for me. Once I return this life to the Williams family, I’ll come to heaven and keep you company. On the anniversary of Ethan’s death. The sky was overcast and the cemetery very quiet. Leah held a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, standing before the headstone. I stood three steps behind her. This weather made my body ache more and more. I could only keep my back rigidly straight to keep from collapsing. Zane stood at Leah’s side. “Ethan, Leah and I came to see you.” Zane crouched down, his fingers brushing over the young face in the photo on the headstone, his voice choking. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Leah for you.” Leah’s eyes reddened slightly as she reached out to pat Zane’s shoulder, as if comforting him. I looked at the photo of Ethan smiling brilliantly. Three years ago, also on a rainy day like this, he’d gradually grown cold in my arms, calling out before he died, “Silas, run…” “Silas, you come kneel before Ethan too.” Leah suddenly spoke, her voice cold. “Make him kneel? As if he’s worthy?” Zane suddenly grew agitated, turning to glare at me. “If he hadn’t been such a coward, how would Ethan have died!” “Zane.” Leah stopped him, though her tone held no reproach. “Let him kneel. This is what he owes Ethan.” I said nothing and silently walked forward. My knees bent, falling heavily onto the hard stone pavement. I lowered my head deeply before the headstone. Ethan, I came to see you. Just as I was about to stand up, Zane suddenly cried out, “Ah! My foot!” He fell backward. Zane’s head hit the steps beside him, blood immediately flowing down. “Zane!” Leah’s face changed dramatically. She shoved me aside and rushed over to hold Zane. “What happened? Are you okay?” “Leah… I’m fine… Silas, I know you’re resentful. But how could you push me?” “I didn’t push him.” I knelt there, feeling only absurd. “Didn’t push him? So he fell on his own?” Leah whipped around, her eyes blazing with hatred. “Silas, you used to just be a coward, but now you’ve become this despicable! Attacking someone in front of Ethan. What kind of person are you?” “I really didn’t-” Slap! Another slap struck hard across my face. This one was especially heavy, making my ears ring and everything go black before my eyes. “Apologize!” Leah pointed at the blood-covered Zane and shouted, “Kneel and apologize to Zane! Until he forgives you!” I froze. Kneel to Zane? “No.” This was the first time in three years I’d defied her orders. “What did you say?” Leah looked at me incredulously. “I can kneel to Ethan. I’ll even kneel here until I die.” I raised my head, looking directly into Leah’s eyes filled with fury, my voice hoarse but firm. “But I will never kneel to Zane.” Because he didn’t deserve it. “Good. Very good.” Leah laughed in extreme anger. She stood up, her high heel grinding hard into my kneeling shin bone, crushing it with force. “Silas, since your bones are so hard, then keep kneeling here until you’ve thought things through!” She helped Zane up and walked down the mountain without looking back. “Leah, Silas he…” Zane was still pretending to plead for me. “Shut up! Don’t plead for this ungrateful dog!” Their figures gradually disappeared into the rain. In the vast cemetery, only I remained. The rain fell harder and harder, soaking through my clothes and chilling my heart. The excruciating pain in my spine mixed with the pain in my crushed shin, making everything go black before my eyes. I turned my head to look at Ethan’s smiling face on the headstone. I don’t know how long passed before the wound on my forehead split open, blood mixing with rain flowing into my eyes. I still didn’t kneel to Zane. I faced Ethan’s photo and once again lowered my head deeply. This time, it was for myself. When the time comes, I’ll repay you with this life and return the truth to you.

Silas POV That night, I didn’t return to the villa. I sat all night on a hospital bench. The wound on my hand was simply bandaged. At three in the morning, a violent coughing fit woke me. A metallic sweetness surged up my throat. I covered my mouth, coughing my lungs out. Opening my palm, I saw a pool of horrifying black blood. This was a sign my organs were beginning to fail. The bullet in my spine had compressed too long. Toxins had already invaded my bloodstream. My body was long past the point of collapse. “Mr. Sterling, you really can’t delay any longer.” The doctor on duty was a young man, not the one Zane had bribed. Looking at my examination report, his brow furrowed tight. “If we don’t operate immediately to remove the foreign object, you could die suddenly at any time. We must notify your family to sign immediately.” I smiled bitterly. I had no family. My only relatives were the Williams siblings. But now, Leah wished I were dead. “No need.” I pulled a pen from my pocket and on that flimsy critical condition notice, signed my own name. The handwriting was a bit crooked because my vision was starting to blur again. “I’ll sign myself.” The doctor froze. “But this surgery has extremely high risks, the mortality rate-” “I’m not having surgery.” I interrupted him, handing back the notice. “Just prescribe me those painkillers. Preferably something that keeps me alert.” Even if it was just a last burst of energy before death. I still had one last thing to do. Leaving the hospital as dawn was breaking. I called my old friend in forensic medicine, Nathan Cole. “Nathan, I need a favor.” On the other end, Nathan’s voice was groggy. “Early morning call, what’s up?” “In a month, I might be dead.” I spoke calmly. “When that happens, I need you to personally perform my autopsy.” Deathly silence on the other end. After a long while, Nathan finally cursed through gritted teeth. “Silas, what the hell are you talking about?” “I’m not crazy. There’s something in my spine. Only you can remove it, and only you dare tell the truth.” I looked at the rising sun, but felt no warmth. “It’s the truth about Ethan’s death. Nathan, I’m begging you.” After hanging up, I took a deep breath, pulled out my SIM card, snapped it in half, and threw it in the trash. When I returned to the villa, Leah was sitting at the dining table eating breakfast. Seeing me come in looking haggard, her hand holding the spoon paused. A flash of barely perceptible panic crossed her eyes, but was quickly covered by coldness. “Gone all night-getting bold, aren’t we?” She spoke coldly, her gaze falling on my bandaged hand, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. “What happened to your hand?” I instinctively hid my hand behind my back. “Nothing. Just accidentally cut it.” “Good thing it’s nothing.” Zane came out of the kitchen carrying hot milk. Seeing me, he immediately put on a friendly face. “Silas is back? Perfect timing. The champagne spill from last night hasn’t been cleaned up yet. The cleaner called in sick, so I’ll have to trouble Silas.” Leah said nothing, just lowered her head to have her oatmeal. Tacit approval. I looked at the floor covered in glass shards and dried wine stains, nausea rising in my stomach. But I didn’t object. “Okay.” I agreed and turned to get the broom. The instant I turned, everything went black and I fell forward uncontrollably. Bang! My forehead slammed hard into the door frame. “Silas!” Behind me came the harsh sound of a chair scraping. Leah had almost instantly stood up, her voice carrying a tremor she herself didn’t notice. “What’s wrong with you?” I lay on the floor. It took several seconds before I could barely prop up my body. My vision slowly recovered a bit. I saw Leah standing two steps away from me, her hand extended in mid-air as if wanting to help me, but then rigidly pulled back. “Didn’t sleep well. My blood sugar’s low.” I supported myself on the door frame and stood up, forcing out an ugly smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t die.” Leah flinched as if stung. The panic in her eyes quickly faded, becoming hard again. “Who’s worried about you?” She sat back down and picked up her spoon, but didn’t take another bite. “Since you’re not dead, get to work. Stop being an eyesore here.” I nodded and took the broom toward the living room. Behind me, Zane said quietly, “Leah, look at him, acting like nothing happened. Definitely faking again.” Leah didn’t respond. But I could feel a complicated gaze fixed on my back. Leah, if one day you knew what kind of pain I endured while sweeping for you, would you feel even a little bit sorry?

Silas POV On the weekend, Leah had a sudden impulse to go to the equestrian club. Zane naturally accompanied her, and as her bodyguard, even with only half a breath left, I had to follow. The equestrian club was in the suburbs with beautiful scenery. Leah wore a sharp red riding outfit, her hair pulled high, looking spirited and heroic. That was her favorite look from before. Confident and bold, like a flame. “Silas, go bring my horse.” She flicked her riding crop, chin slightly raised. Her horse was a spirited black stallion that used to only respond to her and me. But these past few years my health had deteriorated, so I rarely touched it. Enduring the discomfort in my spine, I walked into the stable. For some reason today, my vision was very unstable, flickering between light and dark. When I led out Shadowwind, it snorted restlessly, hooves pawing the ground uneasily. I reached out to calm it, not noticing that someone had tampered with the girth under the saddle. It hung loose. “What’s taking so long?” Zane called from nearby. “Leah’s getting impatient!” I led the horse over. “Silas, I want to try riding Shadowwind today. Leah said I could.” Zane walked over with an innocent smile, reaching for the reins. The instant his hand touched the reins, something between his fingertips discreetly pricked the horse’s neck. Shadowwind spooked! It reared up on its hind legs with a shrieking whinny. “Watch out!” Almost instinctively, I lunged toward Leah, who was closest to the horse. In that moment, my world suddenly plunged into complete darkness. Not the blackouts from before, but true pitch darkness. I’d gone blind. I could only rely on what little hearing and memory remained to shield Leah in my arms, using my back to take a heavy kick from the panicked horse. The clear sound of bones cracking exploded in my chest. I grunted, a mouthful of blood surging from my throat and spraying onto Leah’s riding outfit. But I still held her tightly until the stable hands controlled the horse. “Silas! Have you lost your mind!” Leah pushed me away in shock, her face turning deathly pale at the sight of blood on her clothes. She frantically tried to check my injuries. Her hand had just touched my shoulder when she heard Zane’s scream from beside us. “Ow… my leg… it hurts so much…” Zane sat on the grass clutching his knee. In reality he’d only scraped it slightly while dodging. Leah’s hand froze. She looked at me, then at the wailing Zane. Finally, she bit her lip and withdrew her hand. “What happened? Can’t even handle a horse properly!” She stood up and hurried toward Zane, her tone anxious. “Zane, where are you hurt? Let me see!” I lay on the grass, my ribs likely broken and piercing my lung. Every breath carried a strong taste of blood. I tried to get up, but the pitch darkness made me lose all sense of direction. I reached out my hand bewilderedly, trying to grab onto something for support, but grasped only empty air. “Leah…” I called out instinctively. “Shut up!” Leah didn’t look back, examining Zane’s wound, her tone full of irritation and disappointment. “Silas, you’re truly useless now. Not just your body, but have you lost all sense of right and wrong too? Did you deliberately spook the horse to try to kill Zane?” I smiled bitterly, blood foam choking in my throat, triggering a violent coughing fit. “I can’t see…” I said softly, my voice so quiet only I could hear it. “What did you say?” Leah seemed to hear something and glanced back at me. “Silas, stop playing dead.” She commanded in a harsh tone. “Stand up. Don’t embarrass yourself here.” I listened to her voice, trying hard to focus, but couldn’t find her direction no matter what. Before I could at least see blurry light and shadow. Now, there was nothing. I felt around the ground, my fingers digging into the dirt, using the leverage to prop up my body bit by bit. “That’s right, Leah.” I still didn’t look at her, but faced the empty sky with a smile uglier than crying. “I’ve become blind.” “From now on, I probably really won’t be able to lead your horse anymore.” Leah froze.

Silas POV I didn’t go to the hospital about going blind. Or rather, it wouldn’t help even if I went. The damage was irreversible. Until three nights later, deep in the night. I was leaning against the headboard enduring the excruciating pain when the door was suddenly slammed open. “Silas! Stop playing dead, get up!” It was Zane’s voice. He grabbed my collar and dragged me off the bed. “Where…” I stumbled, completely unable to find my direction. “Leah’s been kidnapped!” Zane’s voice carried a weird excitement. “At the abandoned chemical plant in the west suburbs! They specifically asked for you to come alone to ransom her! If you don’t go, they’ll kill her!” Kidnapped? I tensed immediately, even my body’s pain suppressed. “Take me there.” I grabbed Zane’s wrist in return, with such force it made him cry out in pain. “Still so strong for a blind man…” Zane muttered, but didn’t break free. “Let’s go, the car’s outside.” The whole way, the car sped along. I sat in the passenger seat, gripping tightly the tactical knife I always carried. Even blind, this blade was part of my body. At the abandoned factory, the surroundings were deathly silent. “Leah’s inside, second floor, innermost room.” Zane pushed me out of the car. “Go in yourself. I’ll call the police.” With that, the engine roared away. I knew something was wrong. But I had no choice. As long as Leah was inside, even if it was hell, I had to jump in. I felt along the wall, relying on subtle air currents and echoes to move forward step by step. My ribs hurt with every movement, sweat soaking my back. “Silas?” From deep on the second floor came Leah’s terrified voice. “Leah!” I rushed toward the sound but tripped over debris on the ground, falling hard. “This was the top bodyguard back then? How’d he become such a pathetic wreck?” Mocking laughter surrounded me. Then came the dull thuds of clubs hitting my body. “Ugh!” I curled up, protecting my head and chest, gripping my knife tightly and using my hearing to judge their positions. Three on the left, two on the right. “Everyone freeze!” I suddenly lashed out, the knife precisely slashing across the wrist of the person on the left. A scream immediately rang out. Though blind, my hearing had become even sharper. “You really did go blind?” Leah’s voice trembled with disbelief. I had no time to explain. I felt my way to her side and cut the rope binding her hands. “Go! Hurry!” I pushed her toward the exit. “Think you can run? Not so easy!” Wind rushed from behind. I turned instinctively and spread my arms, shielding Leah behind me. Thunk! The sound of a blade entering flesh. A short knife plunged deep into my abdomen. The pain made stars burst before my eyes, but I gritted my teeth hard and didn’t make a sound. With a backhand strike, I stabbed the attacker’s shoulder. The scene descended into chaos. Just then, sirens wailed closer and closer. Hearing the police sirens, the kidnappers immediately scattered like birds. I clutched my bleeding abdomen, my body slowly sliding down the wall. “Silas! Silas, what’s wrong?” Leah finally broke free and rushed over to support me. Her hand touched my blood-covered hand and she screamed in terror.”You’re hurt… so much blood…” “It’s nothing… just a flesh wound…” I smiled weakly, wanting to reach up and touch her face to make sure she wasn’t hurt, but remembering my hands were covered in blood, I pulled them back. “As long as Leah is okay.” Zane rushed in with the police. “Leah! Are you alright!” Zane rushed over, shoving me aside to embrace Leah. “I just finished calling the police when I saw Silas sneaking around with these people… I knew it was him!” “What?” Leah froze. Zane pointed at me lying on the ground, his face full of righteous indignation. “It was him! He staged the whole thing! He was already fired by the Williams family and held a grudge. He wanted to use the hero-saves-beauty trick to gain Leah’s trust and extort money!” “These kidnappers are all actors he hired! I recorded everything!” Zane pulled out his phone, playing a heavily edited recording that sounded like me negotiating prices with those men. “No… that’s not…” I opened my mouth, trying to explain. Leah looked at me, her expression shifting from panic to disgust. “Silas, to make me forgive you, to get back into the Williams family…” “You actually gambled with my life?” “How long are you going to keep up this act? Getting yourself covered in blood just to make me feel guilty?”

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I once loved him for a full seven years. I loved him so much that even when his mistress pushed me off a building, I wouldn’t let him go. But he locked me in a psychiatric hospital and used electroshock therapy to strip away the last shred of my dignity. I cut open my brain, removed part of my hippocampus, and personally erased him from my memory completely. He held my “ashes” and went mad for three years, thinking I died in that car accident I staged for him. Until he traveled thousands of miles to Zurich and saw me living a radiant life. And I looked at him and only asked softly. “Sorry, who are you?” Polina’s POV When I woke up, I heard Ethan Harper on the phone, his voice gentle. “Lily, I’ve already suppressed the media coverage. No one will know you pushed her.” After hanging up, he met my gaze, his expression instantly turning cold. “You’re awake?” “Now that you’re awake, get this straight. Last night you slipped and fell on your own. Don’t say anything to the media. Lily scares easily, don’t frighten her.” She scares easily? If she scared so easily, she wouldn’t have pushed me off a building. I rolled down from a second-floor balcony and nearly died. And my fiancé Ethan Harper didn’t ask if I was in pain, but warned me not to ruin his beloved’s reputation. Last night, Ethan held Lily in his arms, kissed her forehead, and treasured her like a jewel. When I went up to confront them, Lily gave me a provocative smile, then suddenly leaned backward and grabbed onto my evening gown with all her strength. She was faking a fall, but dragging me into a real hell. “Ethan.” My voice was hoarse, and I couldn’t help but mock him. “Are you actually blind, or just pretending to be?” Ethan’s brow furrowed. “Polina, enough.” “Lily had too much to drink and lost her balance. Instead of helping her, you want to make a big scene out of this?” “The Harper family’s stock price can’t withstand this kind of scandal. It’s time you showed some sense.” Lily was the Harper family driver’s daughter. The Harpers adopted her as a child, and she enjoyed all of Ethan’s favoritism. And I was the heir to the White family, his rightful fiancée. Just because I came from a good family, he assumed I could bear anything. Even when I was hurt, I didn’t need comfort. Because Lily came from nothing, he felt that even a slight frown from her meant she’d suffered a terrible injustice. When I waited for him to cut my birthday cake, he was riding the Ferris wheel with Lily at an amusement park. When I was humiliated and belittled by the Harper family board of directors because of our arranged marriage, he flew into a rage because a server made Lily wait one second too long. When my appendix ruptured and I crashed my car into a guardrail from the pain, he was running all over the city to get macarons from another district because Lily mentioned wanting them. Because I had family background and dignity, I deserved to suffer grievances. “What if I refuse?” I stared at him, asking each word slowly and deliberately. Ethan’s expression turned completely dark. He stepped forward and gripped the wrist where my IV was attached. The needle shifted in my vein, and blood instantly flowed back into the IV tube, shockingly red. Cold sweat ran down my temples. But he acted as if he didn’t see that tube of backflowing blood. His fingers tightened mercilessly, his tone ice-cold. “Polina, don’t push me. As long as you behave, the position of fiancée is still yours.” “Otherwise, don’t blame me for being heartless.” My wrist throbbed with pain. More painful than the bone-deep ache was the instant my heart died. Just then, the hospital room door burst open. His assistant rushed in frantically. “Mr. Harper! Lily is having a panic attack in the next room. She won’t stop crying, and the doctor says her condition is bad!” Ethan’s face changed instantly. He immediately let go of my hand, not even leaving a single instruction, and rushed out. I watched that section of red backflow slowly stain the transparent IV tube. The hospital room door slammed shut before my eyes. I pulled the needle out of my hand myself and pressed down on the bleeding puncture site. It really hurt. But compared to watching Ethan go insane over another woman, this pain actually cleared my head. I picked up my phone and pulled up that webpage I’d browsed late at night a few days ago. A neuroscience center in Zurich. They had a very special procedure. Removing a small portion of hippocampal neurons could completely erase someone from your memory. Before, I always hesitated, feeling that although these seven years were bitter, I couldn’t bear to forget them entirely. After all, I truly had loved him. But now, I felt there was nothing worth keeping. I clicked on the appointment portal and filled out the application form. In the reason section, I only wrote: I don’t love him anymore. Even if I became a person without a past, I would never be Ethan Harper’s fiancée again.

Polina’s POV I stayed in the hospital for half a month. During that half month, Ethan didn’t show up once. I heard the nurses gossiping that Mr. Harper had been incredibly busy lately, keeping watch in the VIP ward every day. Because Lily was terrified and could only sleep at night if someone stayed with her. As for me, his fiancée, only his assistant came once to deliver a fruit basket, along with a message that Mr. Harper was very busy recently. On discharge day, no one came to pick me up. I didn’t care. I called a taxi myself. Before getting in the car, my phone received an email from Zurich. The doctor said my application had been approved. The surgery was scheduled for early next month. That meant I had less than twenty days to handle everything here. When I returned to the Harper villa, it was already three in the afternoon. As soon as I entered, I smelled a sweet, cloying cream scent. The living room was lively beyond belief. They were hosting an afternoon tea party. Lily wore that pink dress originally custom-made for me, sitting in the center like a princess surrounded by stars. Ethan sat right beside her, carefully cutting a piece of cream cake, with patience and tenderness I’d never received in seven years. I wore the hospital gown I’d brought back, carrying a large bag of medicine, looking completely out of place. The lively conversation suddenly stopped. Everyone’s eyes turned toward me. Ethan looked up. The moment he saw me, his brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” He pulled out a napkin to wipe his hands, his tone clearly displeased. I ignored him, changed my shoes, and headed upstairs. Since I’d decided to completely forget him, I didn’t even have the interest to argue with him anymore. But someone didn’t want to let me go. Nina held a wine glass and blocked the stairway. She was Lily’s friend, and notoriously snobbish in this circle. “Oh my, Polina’s back.” Nina wore a fake smile and pulled a jewelry box from her bag, shoving it into my hands without asking. “Lily was so badly frightened this time. Everyone’s giving her gifts to comfort her. You’re the one who caused this, so you have to personally give her this gift for the matter to be settled.” I was about to push it away when Nina pressed my hands down firmly, deliberately raising her voice. “Polina, so many people are watching. Surely you won’t refuse to give Mr. Harper this much face?” Ethan also looked over, his gaze pressing down on me heavily. “Polina, don’t make a scene.” I looked at him, then at the thing in my hands, and suddenly felt it was all rather pointless. I walked up to Lily with the jewelry box. “Take it.” Lily timidly glanced at Ethan before extending both hands to receive it. Just as I released my grip, her hands suddenly recoiled as if electrocuted. Crash! The jewelry box fell heavily onto the marble floor. A sharp sound. The contents had broken. It was a custom diamond necklace, now shattered into several pieces. “Ah!” Lily cried out, clutching her chest as she fell back onto the sofa, tears instantly flooding out. “I’m sorry… Polina, I’m sorry… I’m so clumsy, I didn’t catch it…” As she cried, she displayed the bandage wrapped around her wrist. “My hand hasn’t healed yet… It’s all my fault…” The socialites around us exploded. “Oh my God, that was expensive! Nina spent a fortune on it!” “Polina is so vicious! If she didn’t want to give it, fine, but why deliberately smash it?” “Exactly. So petty, can’t even tolerate an adopted daughter. What a disgrace to the White family.” Accusations and curses surged toward me like a tide. Ethan stood up, looking at me coldly. “Polina, apologize to Lily.” “I didn’t drop it.” I looked at him calmly. “She pulled her hands back herself.” “Enough!” Ethan cut me off sharply. “So many people saw it. You still want to deny it? Is this how the White family taught you to behave?” I looked at this man I’d loved for seven years and suddenly felt utterly disgusted. “No need.” I kicked aside the diamonds at my feet. “I won’t apologize. And I’ll vacate this place for you.” “I’m moving out.” With that, I ignored the uproar behind me and turned to go upstairs.

Polina’s POV I ignored the accusations behind me and went straight to the master bedroom on the second floor. The moment I pushed open the door, I froze. My vanity table was piled with unfamiliar bottles and jars. My skincare products had been shoved into a corner, and several bottles had been opened and used, their caps not even screwed back on. In the walk-in closet, several of my current-season gowns had disappeared, replaced by pink dresses still with their tags on, hanging brazenly in the most prominent positions. Even though I’d already decided to leave, seeing this scene made my stomach churn. Lily had long since reached into my private space. And none of this could have happened without Ethan’s tacit approval. I took out a travel bag and started packing. As for the jewelry, designer bags, and other things Ethan had given me, I didn’t touch a single one. Just as I zipped up my suitcase, the door was pushed open without a knock. Lily stood in the doorway, still holding the robe she’d taken from my closet. Seeing my suitcase, the triumph in her eyes was undisguised. “Polina, are you moving out?” She leaned against the doorframe, smiling. “This room has great lighting. Ethan said I’ve been in poor health lately and wants me to move in to recuperate.” I ignored her and pulled my suitcase toward the door. As I passed her, I said coldly, “Move.” But Lily suddenly changed her expression. She grabbed my arm, her voice instantly switching to a tearful plea, loud enough for the entire second floor to hear. “Polina, don’t leave! It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have made you angry. Please don’t go!” While crying and shouting, she dug her nails hard into my arm. The sharp pain made me instinctively shake her off. “Get off me!” I barely used any force. But Lily acted like she was made of paper, crying out and falling backward. This happened to be the landing at the top of the stairs. Her body tilted, and she rolled down. “Lily!” Ethan, who’d heard the commotion downstairs, rushed up just in time to see this scene. He practically lunged to catch Lily, then looked up at me. That look. Like he was looking at a murderer. “Polina, how can you be so vicious?” Someone nearby who hadn’t left yet laughed. “Who would have thought the White family heir had zero tolerance for others. No wonder the White family went bankrupt. Whoever marries her is doomed.” I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of the Harper villa without looking back. That night I checked into a boutique hotel. My phone rang. It was Ethan. I answered, but it was Ethan’s grandfather, Victor Harper, on the other end. “Polina, have you finalized the wedding venue yet? I’m waiting to attend your wedding.” My throat tightened, and tears nearly fell. In the entire Harper family, only Victor truly cared about me. “Grandpa…” I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m not going through with this wedding.” There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. Then Ethan took the phone. “Polina, what are you making a fuss about now?” His voice remained arrogant. “What nonsense are you telling Grandpa? Where are you?” “I’m watching a TV show.” I made up a random lie. “Alright, stop being difficult.” “There’s a watch on my study desk. It was supposed to be an apology gift for you. Since you’ve left, come back and get it when you have time.” He hung up directly. The next day, his assistant delivered the watch to the hotel. “Miss White, Mr. Harper said this is a Patek Philippe he’s had custom-made for three years. It’s one of a kind. He asks that you stop being temperamental.” The assistant left after setting down the box. I opened it. It truly was an exquisite watch, with a full diamond dial, sparkling brilliantly. Ethan once said that time was the most expensive thing in the world, and his time belonged only to me. I took out the watch and turned it over. On the back, clearly engraved in script, was a line: For Lily. I stood frozen, then laughed out loud. What “custom-made for three years,” what “one of a kind.” This watch was originally meant for Lily all along. Ethan Harper, you truly disgust me. This so called devotion had been a love triangle from the start. I wiped away my tears and threw the watch back in the box. I took out my phone and permanently blocked Ethan. Then I called a luxury goods consignment shop. “I have several watches and pieces of jewelry to sell. I need cash quickly, the faster the better.” Selling this garbage, plus my savings, would be enough for the surgery fees in Switzerland. I wanted to dig everything about him out of my brain completely.

Polina’s POV The night I left the Harper villa, I contacted a luxury consignment store. I dumped all the jewelry Ethan had given me onto the counter. The owner, wearing gloves to examine the pieces, couldn’t take his eyes off them. “These are all excellent pieces. Especially this pink diamond. It was the Harper family’s auction item last year, wasn’t it? Are you sure you want to sell everything? You’ll take a big hit on the value.” “Sell everything. Buy them outright, don’t go through consignment. I need the money urgently.” I signed the papers and looked at the bank card now loaded with a substantial sum. Combined with my own savings from recent years, it would be enough for the surgery fees in Switzerland and living expenses afterward. After finishing all this, I found an inconspicuous hotel to stay in. I’d planned to wait quietly until surgery day and disappear completely. But Ethan clearly had no intention of letting me go. On the third afternoon, I was sitting on the hotel bed organizing visa materials when Ethan’s assistant suddenly called. “Miss White, Mr. Harper requests that you go to the private hospital immediately.” I didn’t hesitate before hanging up. “I’m not available.” Since we were done, I had no obligation to be at his beck and call. The other end paused, then spoke with some arrogance. “Mr. Harper said if you don’t arrive within half an hour, your mother’s special medication and caregiver fees at the nursing home will be immediately suspended by finance.” My hand shook violently, and the phone nearly slipped. After the White family went bankrupt, Mother couldn’t handle the shock and had a mental breakdown. She’d been staying in an expensive private nursing home ever since. It was her lifeline, and my only weakness. Ethan’s knife cut precisely where it hurt most. “I understand.” I hung up, grinding my teeth. Half an hour later, I arrived at the hospital’s VIP floor. As soon as the elevator doors opened, a strong smell of disinfectant hit me. Ethan stood at the end of the corridor, his face terrifyingly dark. Seeing me arrive, he said nothing, just strode over and grabbed my wrist. “Polina, how long are you going to keep this up?” He stared at me, his eyes looking at me like a criminal. “Lily’s severe depression relapsed. She just slit her wrists in there and is being resuscitated.” “Was it you who contacted the gossip media? Spreading rumors online to provoke her, saying she’s a homewrecker who stole someone’s position? Do you want to drive her to death?” He shook me until I felt dizzy. I only found it absurd. “Ethan Harper, have you lost your mind? I haven’t even left my room these past two days, and I haven’t been online.” “Still lying!” Nina suddenly rushed up, shoving her phone in my face, the screen nearly poking into my eyes. “Polina, the evidence is right here and you’re still pretending! All those gossip outlets say Polina White leaked the information! Who else could it be but you?” Just as I was about to speak, the hospital room door suddenly opened. Lily rushed out barefoot. Her hair was disheveled, her wrists wrapped in blood-stained bandages, her entire being in a state of hysteria. “It was you! You want to kill me! I’m not a homewrecker! I truly love Ethan!” She screamed, grabbed a glass water cup from the cabinet by the door, and hurled it at me with all her strength. I was being held tightly by Ethan’s grip on my wrist and couldn’t dodge. The glass smashed hard into my temple and shattered. Searing pain hit me. Warm liquid flowed down along my brow bone, instantly blurring my left eye. My vision turned blood-red. I swayed, barely able to stand. “Lily!” Ethan cried out, released me to catch the swaying Lily. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here.” He held Lily protectively in his arms, soothing her gently. When he turned to look at me with blood all over my face, his eyes filled with disgust. “Go get bandaged!” He shouted harshly, “Don’t bleed here and frighten Lily, or I’ll make the White family pay the price!” I wiped the blood flowing into my eye with my hand. Looking at this pair before me, I suddenly didn’t want to explain anymore. There was nothing to explain. I was going to forget it all anyway.

Polina’s POV After treating the wound on my forehead, the nurse was about to bandage me. Ethan pushed the door open. Two bodyguards followed him, along with a doctor I didn’t recognize. The doctor held a report and looked at me with some sympathy. “Mr. Harper, based on the stress reaction just now and past medical history, Miss White has typical paranoid personality disorder, accompanied by severe persecution delusion.” “If not intervened immediately, she may pose a life threat to others.” I laughed. So in that earlier scene, my non-resistance was guilt, and my resistance made me insane. “Ethan Harper, what are you trying to do?” I stood up, still clutching the blood-stained gauze. Ethan didn’t look at me, only coldly instructed the bodyguards. “Take her away.” “I’m not going! Ethan Harper, this is illegal detention!” I struggled desperately, knocking over the treatment tray. But this only confirmed my supposed mania. Two bodyguards grabbed me from both sides, dragged me out of the emergency room, and shoved me into an SUV. The car didn’t return to the Harper villa but drove toward a fully enclosed private psychiatric rehabilitation center in the suburbs. It was a place specifically for confining disobedient people from wealthy families. I was taken into a padded room. No windows, no sharp objects, only a treatment bed with restraint straps. Ethan walked in, looking at me tied to the bed. “Polina, you’re ill.” His tone was calm. “The doctor says you have severe pathological jealousy. Your recent resistance, attempts to escape, and the attack on Lily just now are all symptoms of your condition.” “I’m not sick! You’re the one who’s insane!” I screamed, my wrists rubbed raw by the restraints. “I want to break up! Can’t I just stop loving you? Let me go!” “It seems quite serious.” Ethan shook his head, taking a document the director handed him. A forced medical custody consent form. In the guardian section, he smoothly signed his name. “Treat her. When she’s willing to admit her mistake, then stop.” The so-called treatment was actually electrical stimulation. The doctor placed cold electrode patches on my temples. “Ethan Harper! You bastard!” “Begin.” He turned his back, unwilling to watch my humiliation. The instant the current penetrated my nerves, the intense pain left me unable to even scream. It felt like countless needles were frantically stirring inside my brain, shredding my reason and dignity. I could even smell my hair burning. “Will you admit you pushed Lily?” he asked over the sound of the electrical current. I bit through my lip and said nothing. Increase the current. Three full days. I was injected with sedatives, lying in bed like a waste of space, even needing nursing staff assistance to use the bathroom. That shame of having my dignity as a human being completely stripped away hurt more than physical pain, driving me to despair. And in this despair, the last shred of love I had for Ethan Harper was finally uprooted completely and died. Three days later, I was allowed to be discharged. Walking out that door, the sunlight hurt my eyes so much I couldn’t open them. My face was deathly pale, and I needed to lean against the wall even to stand. Ethan stood by the car waiting for me. Seeing me come out, he walked over to help, his tone becoming gentle. “Feeling better? I did this for your own good. As long as you behave from now on and stop making trouble, this won’t happen again.” I lowered my eyes, hiding the deathly ash in them. I didn’t avoid his hand, but nodded numbly instead. “I understand.” Ethan smiled with satisfaction. Seeing me compliant, he confidently let go. “Have the driver take you home. Rest well.” He got into another car. Watching his departing figure, I dug my palm hard under my sleeve.

Polina’s POV The night I returned from the rehabilitation center, Ethan unexpectedly ate dinner at home. I sat across from him, quietly cutting my steak. This peacefulness pleased Ethan greatly. He poured me a glass of red wine, his tone like rewarding an obedient pet. “There’s a charity auction gala tomorrow night. You’ll attend as my date. The rumors outside haven’t been good lately. We need to make an appearance to dispel the gossip about your mental instability.” If this were before, I would have thrown the wine glass in his face. But now I only set down my knife and fork and nodded. “Okay.” Ethan looked at me with some surprise, then walked over and patted my head. “Good girl. As long as you stay this sensible, Lily won’t hold your previous misunderstandings against you.” The next evening, the banquet hall was resplendent. I wore the dress Ethan had chosen, sitting quietly in a corner. Even when people around me pointed and whispered, calling me a lunatic who’d just finished psychiatric treatment, I didn’t even raise an eyelid. Until Nina walked over with a glass of red wine. She was Lily’s friend and still held a grudge about the broken necklace incident. “If it isn’t Polina? I heard you just finished psychiatric treatment?” Nina deliberately raised her voice, drawing everyone’s attention. “Why so quiet? Did the electroshock therapy make you stupid? Or have you forgotten who the real master of this circle is?” Seeing I wouldn’t respond, a flash of malice crossed Nina’s eyes. She pretended to walk past, then flicked her wrist. A glass of red wine splashed directly onto my dress, running down my thighs. “Oops, my hand slipped.” Nina covered her mouth, laughing without sincerity, waiting for me to lose it. “Polina won’t be angry, will she? You’re a mental patient now. If you go crazy and hit someone in public, they’ll have to take you back for more treatment.” She wanted to provoke me, to watch me make a scene in front of everyone. But I only looked down at the wine stain on my dress, my face showing no emotion. I didn’t even furrow my brow. “It’s fine.” I picked up a napkin from nearby and wiped the wine that had splattered on the back of my hand, my tone as calm as discussing the weather. “It’s just a dress. When it’s dirty, you throw it away.” Just like some people and things that had become dirty. Nina froze, making herself look like a clown. Ethan, who’d been observing from a distance, walked over. He saw this scene, but he didn’t blame Nina. Instead, he seemed satisfied with my reaction. He put his arm around my shoulder, saying quietly, “Go change. Well done.” He thought it was calmness after treatment. Only I knew it was numbness after my heart died. Where he couldn’t see, my nails had dug deep into my palm, but I felt no pain. I could feel the countdown ticking away in my mind. Late at night, Ethan went to shower. From the hidden compartment of an old stuffed animal no one noticed, I retrieved the backup phone I’d hidden earlier. It was my only escape route. The screen lit up. An email from the Swiss neuroscience center lay there quietly. “Miss White, your surgery appointment is confirmed. Please be sure to arrive in Zurich on time.”

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