I am the true heiress, the one whose identity was stolen. As I lay dying, the woman who would become the story’s heroine took the locket that proved my birthright and made a promise: “I will live on for you.” Years later, at the height of her glory, I came back. 1. The entire Anderson family was gathered, a storm of conflicted emotions brewing in the tense silence. An open manila envelope lay on the coffee table. I sat on the sofa, my face a mask of calm, awaiting the final verdict. No one had ever suspected that the celebrated heiress of the Anderson family, a woman currently dazzling high society, was nothing but an imposter. The strange atmosphere was broken by the sound of the door opening. The other main character of this drama had arrived. The smile hadn’t yet faded from her face; she was clearly in high spirits. Seeing the entire family assembled, she paused, a flicker of confusion in her eyes, before greeting each of them one by one. Her gaze finally landed on my back. As if on cue, a slow smile touched my lips. “And who is this?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity. The family seemed to snap out of their collective trance. No one answered her. Or rather, they didn’t know how to answer. One of them shot her a look of profound complexity, a flash of disgust in their eyes. My parents, who had always doted on her, now regarded her with a coldness I’d never seen, their gazes sharp and unforgiving. Just as the wrongness of the situation began to dawn on her, I rose from the sofa. “It’s been a long time,” I said, my voice dripping with mock sweetness, “Mandy.” Before she could respond, I turned to face her fully. I watched her eyes widen in sheer terror and smiled. Mandy’s hand tightened instinctively around her designer handbag. She had never, in her wildest dreams, expected to see me again. 2. Five years ago, on my way to finally meet my real family, I was in a horrific car crash. I was bleeding out, on the brink of death. She ignored my pleas for help, pried the family locket from my hand, and swore she would live a good life in my place. The cruelest irony? The crash was her fault. I was just collateral damage. I refused to die like that. My ferocious will to live attracted a System, which bound itself to me. It promised I could have my life back, but only if I completed a series of missions across different worlds. That’s when I learned the truth. Mandy was the heroine of a dark romance novel, a story about a woman ruthlessly pursued and possessed. The day of the crash, I had unwittingly rescued her after she’d escaped from the clutches of the story’s unhinged male lead. During the chase, the accident happened. Protected by her protagonist’s plot armor, she walked away without a scratch. I, the disposable side character, was left to die. When I reached out to her, begging for help, she took my locket and my life. She never even considered saving me. Later, after altering her appearance, she used my locket to take my place, becoming the cherished daughter of the Anderson family. But she couldn’t escape the grasp of the possessive psycho, Kian Shaw. She claimed she wanted revenge for me, but she was constantly entangled with him, even using the affections of my kind-hearted uncle to make Kian jealous. Kian was a monster. My uncle became a target of his rage, and after surviving one ‘accident’ after another, he was finally left with both his legs broken. A brilliant man, a rising star, was dragged into the mud overnight. The Anderson family, for disapproving of Mandy and Kian’s twisted relationship, was eventually destroyed, left bankrupt and broken. And through it all, the two of them faced no consequences. Instead, their “struggles” only made their bond stronger. They found their happily-ever-after. My family and I were nothing but stepping stones on their path to true love. 3. But now, just as their story was beginning, I was back. And without the Anderson family fortune, Mandy was nothing more than Kian’s caged bird. Mandy stared at my face, speechless. She had no defense, no argument. She had never planned for the dead to return. “It’s been years,” I said, slowly walking toward her, my tone one of feigned surprise. “I never thought you’d not only take my name, Miss Mandy, but even change your face to look a little like me.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” CRACK! The sharp sound of my palm connecting with her cheek cut her off. Her head snapped to the side. “A slap for a life saved. I’d say we’re even, wouldn’t you, Mandy?” I said with a sneer, rubbing my wrist. I had saved an ungrateful snake. Mandy closed her eyes in humiliation, her voice hoarse. “I deserved that. We’re square now, Luna. From now on, we owe each other nothing.” “Mom, Dad, Grandpa… I’m so sorry.” She bowed deeply to them, but they all stepped away, leaving her bent over in the empty space. Her body went rigid. “We have only one daughter,” my mother said, her voice laced with a venom I knew well, “and we cannot accept such a grand gesture from you, Miss Mandy.” The truth had sunk in, and love had curdled into hate. The precious daughter she had searched for tirelessly was a fraud, the woman who had stood by and watched her real daughter die. “I know nothing I say can make you forgive me, but for all these years, I truly thought of you as my own parents…” Mandy looked at my mother, her face a mask of hurt, desperately searching for a flicker of pity or affection. She was disappointed. There was nothing but disgust and loathing. Suddenly, there was a commotion at the door, and a man burst into the room. “They dared to lay a hand on you?!” A voice, thick with rage, echoed through the hall. It was Kian Shaw; he hadn’t left. His dark, predatory eyes swept over every person in the room. 4. “Kian, I’m fine.” The moment she saw him, her protector, Mandy’s eyes filled with tears, as if she finally had a place to pour out all her grievances. “Was it you?” Kian’s gaze immediately locked onto me, a stranger. I met his glare with a fearless smile. “What if it was? She took it willingly.” My words made Mandy flinch. “You’re asking to die!” Enraged, Kian lunged for me, his hands reaching for my throat. Before anyone could react, something flashed through the air. A sharp kick sent him flying, and he crashed to the floor in a heap. All those missions in all those other worlds weren’t for nothing. I had faced men far stronger and crazier than Kian. I had trained in martial arts, cultivated spiritual powers, and even killed. The thought that he could intimidate me with sheer aggression was a joke. Kian curled on the ground, groaning in pain. Mandy rushed to his side, her face etched with concern. “Kian, are you okay? Don’t scare me,” she cried, her voice trembling. Then, she turned her fury on me. “Luna! Don’t you go too far! I’ve given you everything back, the whole Anderson family! Why do you have to hurt Kian?” The hatred in her eyes was palpable. She had conveniently forgotten that Kian was the one who attacked me first. “Don’t make me laugh, Mandy,” I scoffed, looking down at her. “The clothes on your back, the jewelry you’re wearing, the very floor you’re standing on—what part of it isn’t from the Anderson family?” Her face went pale. She glanced down at her expensive outfit, all her dark, hidden desires exposed under my gaze. “You’ve already cashed in. Don’t pretend you’re above it all now.” I ignored the turmoil in her mind and took a slow step toward her. “What do you want?” Mandy flinched, her body recoiling in fear. Just then, Kian stirred, glaring at me with pure hatred. “Bitch!” he spat. With a cold smile, I stomped my heel onto his wrist. A strangled cry of pain escaped his lips, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. 5. “If you can’t learn to speak properly, then perhaps you should just shut up,” I said, grinding my heel into his wrist. “Ah! Luna, you bitch! I’ll kill you! I swear I’ll kill you!” Kian’s eyes were bloodshot, his face contorted in a mask of madness. Unfazed, I applied more pressure. “Stop! Luna, stop! You’re going to break his hand!” Mandy was frantic, screaming at me to stop but not daring to come near me. She was terrified I’d kick her just like I’d kicked Kian. “Mom, please, I’m begging you, make her stop! Kian and I will leave, we’ll never appear before you again, please, Mom…” Unable to stop me, Mandy turned to my mother for help. But my mother only gave her a single, dismissive glance before looking away. Mandy’s heart sank. She turned her pleading eyes to my father, my brother, my grandfather, everyone in the room. No one would help her. Just as despair consumed her, the front door opened again. A clear, youthful voice filled the air. “Do we have guests? Why is it so noisy?” Everyone’s attention snapped to the doorway. A young man stood there, taking in the chaotic scene with a look of utter confusion. For Mandy, it was as if a savior had appeared. “Rick! Help me!” she cried, tears streaming down her face, clinging to the name of Rick Anderson like a final lifeline. Rick immediately sensed that something was deeply wrong, but after living with her for so many years, his expression softened. 6. “Mandy, what’s wrong?” “Rick, she is not your sister.” My mother stepped forward, pulling him away from the scene. Rick froze. “Your only sister is Luna. An imposter, an ungrateful wretch, is not worthy of you calling her ‘sister’.” The more my mother thought about it, the deeper her resentment grew. Her real daughter had performed an act of kindness only to be betrayed and have her life stolen. If I hadn’t returned today, they would have been deceived for who knows how long. The faint, easy smile on Rick’s face vanished. “No, that’s not it, Rick, I just… I just thought…” Mandy’s rebuttal was weak. How could she possibly explain it? That she stole my identity because she was afraid my family would be heartbroken? Or that she was fulfilling my dying wish to be reunited with them? No matter how she spun it, her actions were anything but noble. “Mandy, don’t bother explaining to him,” Kian snarled, forcing himself up. He couldn’t stand seeing her so subservient. “I’ll remember this humiliation. The Anderson family… I won’t let a single one of them off the hook!” “You’re still involved with this mad dog?” Rick’s brow furrowed. He knew Kian. He remembered the countless times Mandy had come to their uncle, pale and terrified, begging for help to escape him. Yet after all the trouble their family went through for her, she always ended up back in Kian’s arms. Faced with Rick’s question, Mandy looked away, uncomfortable. She didn’t want this, but… Kian was the only person in the world who truly loved her. His methods were just a little… extreme. Seeing her expression, I knew exactly what she was thinking. “You have no taste,” Rick scoffed, clearly having no intention of getting involved. “Rick…” Mandy was shocked. The little brother who had always been so close to her had turned on her so quickly. 7. CRACK. The sickening crunch drew everyone’s attention. I rubbed my nose nonchalantly. “Oops. Didn’t control my strength.” Kian’s hand was bent at an unnatural angle. Mandy was frozen in shock. “There’s still time to get to a hospital,” I offered helpfully. “But if you insist on staying here to trade threats, I can’t guarantee the safety of his other hand.” He was trespassing. This was simply self-defense. That day, Kian and Mandy retreated in utter disgrace. The Anderson family immediately convened a major family meeting. Everyone was present, except for my uncle, who was still abroad. My identity was officially confirmed. What surprised me was their reaction. This wasn’t the typical high-society family I’d imagined, ashamed of having been fooled and trying to cover it up to save face. Instead, they threw a grand, lavish party to announce to the world that I, Luna Anderson, was the true and only heiress. The acceptance from their social circle was far greater than I expected. Then again, the only people invited were from families with deep ties to the Andersons, those who wouldn’t stir up controversy. At the party, I finally met the man I’d heard so much about: my uncle, Elias Anderson. Dressed in an elegant black suit, he stood out from the crowd, a faint, charming smile on his lips. He was the picture of sophistication. Suddenly, someone whispered something to him. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, and then his gaze shot directly across the room, locking with mine. 8. In the instant our eyes met, a silent, cryptic message passed between us. I smiled with intrigue and drained my glass of red wine. I don’t know how Mandy managed to sneak into the party. Perhaps it was her protagonist’s plot armor at work. As my grandfather took the stage to officially announce my identity, she hid in a corner, her eyes red with unshed tears. I felt a stare and my gaze swept the room, landing easily on her. In the original story, when she returned as me, there was no grand introduction like this. My grandfather, guided by some deep-seated intuition, had always been suspicious of her. But the secret DNA test he’d run had come back positive, confirming she was a Anderson. Of course, that was Kian’s doing. He’d tampered with the results. It’s why, after the Anderson family fell, my grandfather was the first person Kian eliminated after my uncle. “Miss Mandy, are you here to witness the ceremony?” I called out, my voice carrying across the hall. If she was going to be here, she wasn’t going to hide. My words drew everyone’s attention, and a wave of whispers followed as people searched for her. “How dare she show up?” “Did the Andersons just let her go?” “I heard she’s still tangled up with that psycho, Kian Shaw.” “She’s not here to cause a scene, is she?” Some of the younger, more impatient guests pointed her out, and soon she was exposed to everyone’s view. She was no longer the radiant, confident Anderson heiress. Dressed in a simple, thin white dress, she looked frail and weak, a wilting jasmine flower. At my words, she bit her lip in humiliation, her eyes red-rimmed, a picture of pitiable vulnerability. But no one here was a lovesick fool like Kian. No one was going to step up and defend her just because she looked sad. 9. “Miss Anderson, you don’t have to be so aggressive,” she said, her voice trembling but clear. “Grandpa isn’t well. I just wanted to see him. Even if my identity was a lie, after all these years… I’ve come to see them as my real family.” Her words were crafted to paint her as a sentimental, devoted person who had done nothing truly evil besides steal an identity. She made it seem like I was the villain, not only taking her beloved family away but also forcing my ailing grandfather to throw a party for me, all while bullying her relentlessly. I almost fell for her twisted logic. But then, my grandfather, a figure of immense authority, spoke from the stage. “Don’t you worry about me, Miss Mandy. This old man is as healthy as a horse. My real granddaughter is home, and I couldn’t be happier. It’s a joy to do this for her.” “Grandpa…” Finally, a tear rolled down Mandy’s cheek. Her body swayed, as if a strong wind might blow her away. “I am not your grandfather.” The authority in his voice was absolute, a warning no one dared to challenge. But weakness often inspires sympathy. “Grandpa, she does have a point,” I said, my voice sweet and clear. “And I should thank her. Thank her for taking my locket when I was on the brink of death, for taking my place by my parents’ side, and for sparing them the pain of losing a daughter.” My words ripped away her mask of hypocrisy. Every selfish motive was laid bare. A truly kind person would not have hidden the truth for years, burying the death of the real heiress while shamelessly enjoying all the privileges that came with her name. Mandy’s expression flickered through a dozen emotions until her eyes finally found him: my uncle, Elias Anderson. “Uncle Elias, do you believe me? I truly meant no harm,” she pleaded, her voice choked with sobs. As if parting the sea, the crowd shifted, creating a direct path between her and Elias. I watched him closely. When he heard her call his name, his body went rigid. For a split second, something imperceptible shifted within him. And sure enough, his next words confirmed my suspicion. “Of course I believe you,” he said, his voice ringing with conviction. “No matter what anyone else thinks, Mandy, I will always be on your side.”

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At my own birthday party, I was made to wear the late lady of the house’s sapphire necklace. The moment my ten-year-old son saw it, he shoved me down the stairs. He glared down at me, his eyes burning with hate, and ordered the butler to take the necklace from me. “I knew you were up to no good! You pretend to be so gentle and kind, but you’ve always wanted to replace my mother!” “Just wait until Dad gets home! I’ll make him throw you out!” Warm blood trickled from my forehead, a stark contrast to the ice forming around my heart. I looked at the child I had cared for for a decade. With a sigh of release, I nodded. “You don’t have to wait for him. I’ll leave now.” … Taking the towel our housekeeper offered, I pressed it to the gash on my head and started to go upstairs to change. But Ryan spread his arms, blocking the staircase. “Didn’t you say you were leaving? Then go! Why are you still going upstairs?” he snarled, his eyes wide with contempt. The face I knew so well was twisted with hatred. “I need to change my clothes,” I said, my voice calm. My gown was torn and spattered with blood. It would be humiliating to walk out like this. Ryan’s eyes raked over me, and he scoffed. “You’re so greedy. You wouldn’t even be wearing a dress that expensive if it wasn’t your birthday. What else do you think you deserve to change into?” “You sit at home all day doing nothing! All you know is how to ask my dad for money to buy this and that! And now you’re stealing my mom’s necklace!” “You want to leave? Then get out! Get out now!” Seeing his resolute stance, I sighed again. “Fine. I won’t change. Just let me go up and get Daisy.” Daisy was a cat I had rescued. When I found her in a storm, her umbilical cord was still attached. It took a great deal of effort to nurse her back to health. Ryan blocked me again. “You’re not going upstairs! The cat? I’ll get it for you!” He stomped up the stairs and quickly returned with the cat. He stood on the second-floor landing, holding Daisy out over the railing. A malicious grin spread across his face. “What if I just drop her from here?” he taunted. “You rolled down the stairs and didn’t die. The cat probably won’t either, right?” Before the words had even faded, he let go. Ignoring my own injuries, I lunged forward, trying to break her fall. Daisy was usually so gentle, but now, terrified, her claws shot out, scratching deep lines into my arms and chest. She screeched, scrambled out of my arms, and fled to a corner to hide. Seeing me clutch my bleeding wounds, my face contorted in pain, Ryan burst out laughing from the top of the stairs. “Hahahaha! Serves you right! Who told you to catch that thing? It’s just an ugly stray. Only trash like you would care about it.” I stared at Daisy, trembling in the corner, and said nothing. I had raised Ryan until he was seven, when his father, Ethan, suddenly took him away. He said Ryan was starting elementary school and that I, a high-school dropout, wasn’t qualified to educate him. He sent him to live with another woman. Seven years had woven that child into the very marrow of my bones. Tearing him away was an agony I could barely survive. After my pleas went unanswered, I snuck out to see him on his birthday. When I got there, I saw Ryan sitting on the other woman’s lap, cooing and kissing her cheeks. All the stubborn defiance he showed me was gone. The moment he saw me, he buried his face in her neck, clinging to her as if terrified I would drag him away. Ethan emerged from his study and immediately reprimanded me. “Who let you come here? Leave. Now.” They were a family of three. I was the outsider. It was during the rainstorm on my way home that day that I found Daisy. Her companionship over the next three years slowly began to fill the hollow space in my heart. I silently walked to the corner, soothed Daisy, and picked her up to leave. But Ethan was standing in the doorway. I don’t know how long he’d been watching. The same annoyance was etched on both the father’s and the son’s faces. Seeing my disheveled state, he frowned with impatience. “Alright, that’s enough. Go change your clothes, and then apologize to Ryan.” “Make sure you wear a long-sleeved gown.” “If the guests see your injuries and start gossiping, you’ll embarrass me again!” “And one more thing.” “Don’t you ever touch Lydia’s things again. Or I’ll throw you out of this house for good.” Like father, like son. Even their threats were identical. Blood dripped from my forehead. The scratches on my arms were stark and red. They didn’t ask if I was okay, only that I be presentable for the rest of the party. When I didn’t move, Ethan’s tone softened for some reason. “Fine. I’ll buy you a new set of jewelry tomorrow. Now go and take care of your injuries.” His gaze shifted to the cat in my arms. “That’s not a purebred, and it’s clearly not tame. Get rid of it. I’ll buy you a new one.” His tone, as always, allowed no room for argument. Just like when he had suddenly taken Ryan away, and just as suddenly brought the boy, now full of hatred for me, back home. He had never given me a chance to object. But suddenly, I was tired. For the first time, I refused. “No.” The air went still. Ethan looked at me as if he couldn’t believe his ears. His voice rose. “What did you say? No?” I looked him straight in the eye and nodded calmly. “Yes. I said no.” From twenty to thirty, I had given the best ten years of my life to this family. Day after day of raising a child, caring for Ethan, slowly watching my own youth fade. And in the end, there was nothing that was truly mine. Except for Daisy. I could only take Daisy. Ethan’s face immediately turned to ice. He called to the butler standing by the stairs. “Get that cat out of her arms and throw it out. Then take her upstairs to change.” “Dad!” “That’s enough, Ryan. Be a good boy and don’t make a scene tonight. How about I take you to see Aunt Anya tomorrow morning?” “…Okay, fine. But if this woman steals Mom’s things again, you have to kick her out!” “Alright, alright.” The father and son decided my nonexistent future right in front of me, as if I wasn’t there. I laughed at myself. Haven’t I always been treated this way? I was always just Lydia’s shadow. Ethan and the original Lydia had been childhood sweethearts. They married right after college. A year later, she was pregnant. But she suffered an amniotic fluid embolism during childbirth. They exhausted the city’s blood banks, but couldn’t save her. Ethan was devastated, completely incapable of caring for the newborn. Lydia’s family, afraid a new wife would mistreat the child, found me. I was desperate for money for my mother’s surgery, on the verge of selling a kidney. They told me I was also her father’s child—an illegitimate daughter. They offered me the money for my mother’s medical bills. In exchange, I had to go to the Ethan’s house, raise the child, and hold the position of lady of the house in Lydia’s place. I agreed. And so, I stayed for ten years. I was a mother, a nanny, a secretary. Even a bedmate. I exhaled, as if trying to expel all the bitterness and injustice of the past. Dodging the butler’s outstretched hands, I raised my voice, my tone firm. “Mr. Croft, I said, I’m leaving.” “Ryan is ten years old now. You have someone you love. There’s no need for me to stay here any longer.” “The deal we made is finished!” Ethan took a step forward, grabbing my face, his grip unyielding despite my injuries. “Elara, have I been too soft on you? Have you gotten bold?” “What is it you want? The sapphire necklace? Or the title of Mrs. Croft?!” “Mr. Croft, my name is not Lydia. It’s Elara.” Lydia wasn’t my name. The family had given it to me, so Ethan would never forget the woman he’d lost. “I’m not trying to blackmail you. I truly believe there’s no reason for me to stay.” “Thank you for the birthday party. I regret that I won’t be able to attend the rest of it.” I pulled his slackening hand away, bowed my head to him in thanks while clutching my cat, then straightened up and walked towards the door. “Lydia, you’re thirty years old and still so naive! Without this family, you are nothing!” “Then I’m nothing.” The name wasn’t mine. The child wasn’t mine. The husband wasn’t mine. You see, I was nothing to begin with. My entire existence here was just a transaction. Ten years was long enough. I didn’t want to be Lydia anymore. I wanted to be Elara, the person I had almost forgotten. Just then, an angry, childish voice yelled from the second floor. “Lydia!” I hesitated, but still turned back. One last look, as a final farewell. But a toy airplane was hurtling straight for my face. I couldn’t dodge in time. It slammed into my forehead. “Ah!” Fresh blood poured from the wound, and the impact sent me sprawling to the ground. From the second floor, Ryan, holding the remote control, cackled with glee, completely unfazed by the fact that the toy he’d just used as a weapon was one I had bought for him. “Hahahaha, you stupid woman! Go on, get out!” “After you’re gone, I’ll have my dad marry Aunt Anya!” “You’re a thirty-year-old hag! If it weren’t for the Crofts giving you scraps to eat, you’d be a prostitute by now! You think anyone would ever call you Mrs. Croft?” Ethan stood by, watching coldly, saying nothing. I silently pushed myself up and took one last look at the boy. Then I turned and left. Ten years, and I had nothing to show for it. After leaving the Croft estate, I had nowhere to go. My mother had passed away in my second year there. As for the Lin family, I had never been to their home, nor did I want to. With a sigh, I first went to a clinic to get my injuries treated, then took Daisy and checked into a furnished apartment I’d seen near the hospital. By the time I was settled, it was midnight. I picked up my phone and saw a dozen abusive messages from Ryan. I considered sending him an explanation about the necklace, but found I was already blocked. I had expected it, so there was no real disappointment. But my departure had been so abrupt. As Ethan’s unofficial private secretary, there was still work I hadn’t handed over. Many clients were still sending files to me. The next morning, I went to Ethan’s company. “I’m so sorry, Miss… Lin,” the receptionist said, bowing with an apologetic and awkward air. “Mr. Croft just informed us this morning that you are no longer permitted to enter the building freely, so…” I gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. Could you please just call the CEO’s office? Tell them I have some work to hand over…” Before I could finish, a wave of expensive perfume washed over me from behind. The impeccably dressed Miss Anya came to a stop beside me. “No need to call,” she told the receptionist. “I’ll take her up.” In the elevator, it was just the two of us. Anya’s face wore a perfectly polite smile as she stared ahead. “Miss Lin, I thought you were a person of some dignity. I assumed that after being kicked out, you wouldn’t show your face here again.” “But you’re more thick-skinned than I imagined.” “To come back looking for Ethan, so brazenly.” “Then again, a woman in her thirties… you’re too old to even be a mistress. I suppose you have to cling to Ethan for dear life.” “But let me be clear, Miss Lin.” “I made you leave once. I can make you leave a second time.” I had heard that Anya had been in love with Ethan since they were young. She went to study abroad after high school, only to return and find him already married and then widowed. I, the substitute, was by his side. She had remained unmarried all these years, and anyone with eyes could see she was waiting for him. Ethan knew it, too. That was why he had sent Ryan to her for a time. I ignored the venom in her words and explained quietly, “There are just some work matters to hand over. I…” Anya held up a hand to silence me and answered her phone. “Ryan, sweetie! Auntie is at your dad’s office. Have you eaten yet?” “Of course! Let’s have lunch together, and this afternoon, your dad and I can take you to the amusement park, how about that?” “Auntie misses you too! Oh, by the way, your… other mother is right here with me. Do you want to say hello?” Anya glanced at me, a smirk playing on her lips as she held the phone out to me. I hesitated, then took it. “Hello…” “You witch! What are you doing at my dad’s company?! Are you hitting on my dad again? Have you no shame?!” “You talked a big game yesterday, but not even a full day later you’re already desperate for a man, is that it?” “If you want a man so badly, hang a sign around your neck that says ‘I’m a slut, I need a man,’ and go stand on the street!” “I’m telling you, Dad, Aunt Anya, and I are a family! You just get as far away from us as you can!” Anya had put the call on speaker. Ryan’s raw, unfiltered rage echoed through the small elevator. I bowed my head in humiliation, blinking back tears. Not because of his malice, but because I’d just heard him sweetly call Anya “Mom,” begging her to come see him. I remembered when he was just over a year old, the first time he had called me “Mama.” He had thrown himself into my arms, laughing, kissing my cheek. My own mother had just passed away, and it was his tiny presence that had soothed my grief. I handed the phone back to Anya and listened in silence as she said her loving goodbyes to Ryan. The elevator doors opened. Anya walked out as if nothing had happened, knocked on the CEO’s office door, and went inside. “Ethan.” Hearing her voice, Ethan’s furrowed brow relaxed. But the moment he saw me, it creased again. “What are you doing here? Didn’t I tell the front desk not to let you up?” “I brought her,” Anya said smoothly. “She claimed she had work to hand over. She looked so pitiful, I thought I’d help her out.” “Anya, you’re too kind,” Ethan said. “What work could she possibly have? A high-school dropout—can she even read? She takes the trivial tasks I gave her and acts like they’re important.” I was a high-school dropout. When I was sixteen, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. With no savings, I had to quit school to work. My homeroom teacher told me the school could raise funds for me, that it was a waste for a student with my grades to drop out. But my mother needed someone to care for her. After much deliberation, I left school. “Leo, you handle the handover with her,” Ethan commanded. “Get it done today. And then inform the entire company that she is not to be allowed in here again.” He stood up from his chair and walked towards me, his presence looming. “Lydia, you’d better mean what you say.” “If I find out this is just some ploy to get back in my good graces, don’t blame me for being ruthless.” Perhaps it was because of my injuries, but when the scent of his cologne hit me, a wave of nausea washed over me. I clamped a hand over my mouth and ran for the restroom. When I came out, Leo, his assistant, was there with a handkerchief. “Are you alright?” I nodded, wiping the water from my lips. “I’m fine. We can do the handover now.” “Of course, Miss Lin. This way, please.” Leo was as gentle as ever, not looking down on me because of what had happened in the office. He had always been like this. When others would whisper and mock me for my background and lack of education, he always treated me with kindness and offered his help. On impulse, I called out to him. “Assistant Leo, actually!” The moment the words were out, I regretted them. But under his encouraging gaze, I finished my thought. “I… my name isn’t Lydia. My real name is Elara. After today, I might move to a new city.” “So, before I leave, I wanted to tell you my real name.” Leo looked at me for a moment, and a small, genuine smile touched his lips. “Of course, Miss Elara.”

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The day before I was due home from a business trip, a new entry popped up on my weight-tracking app. It was seven pounds lighter than me. I changed my flight and went home immediately. The snack cabinet was half-empty. The stash of Cokes in the fridge was gone, and even the milk had been replaced with strawberry-flavored—a flavor I despise. On the coffee table sat a few bags of strawberry cookies, something my husband and I never eat. I dialed his number. “Who’s been over?” After a month away, it felt like someone else had been living in my home. There was a distinct pause on his end. “…Drake brought his girlfriend over yesterday for a bit. Why? Is something wrong?” “It’s nothing,” I said softly and hung up. Then, I opened the Instagram of Drake’s girlfriend. Her latest post screamed at me from the screen: 【OMG! Does anyone else have a strawberry allergy?! The smell alone makes me want to puke! I CAN’T STAND IT!!】 …

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The moment I became aware of my role as the story’s villainess, the male lead—my childhood friend whom I had imprisoned and tortured—was kneeling at my feet, his body trembling with pain. My own hands were shaking as I tried to unfasten his chains. He let out a cold, chilling laugh. “Weren’t you going to kill me, Princess?” My hands froze. In the story’s script, I imprison the male lead, Asher Kane, subjecting him to a relentless campaign of physical and psychological torment. My reward for this is being thrown into a mental asylum by him, where I eventually commit suicide by jumping from a window. Tears of pure terror welled in my eyes. I fumbled in my pocket and pulled out a crumpled, worn piece of paper. I held it out to him. It was something he had written for me when we were seven. “A Coupon for Forgiving Ellie for Anything She Does.” 1 When the plot flooded my consciousness, I was holding a blood-stained whip. I just stood there, frozen. The… the villainess? My hand trembled as I pointed a shaky finger at myself. Me? A low groan pulled me back to reality. Before me, a dark-haired young man was half-kneeling on the stone floor. His messy black hair fell across his forehead, his sharp jawline lost in the damp shadows of the basement. His arms were suspended by iron chains, his hands hanging limp and powerless. His breathing was shallow, ragged. Asher. The male lead of this redemption novel. And the boy I grew up with. According to the plot, I’d been secretly in love with Asher for a decade. I was supposed to be the pretty, innocent girl who quietly followed him around. But the moment the female lead appeared, my ‘villainy meter’ skyrocketed. I didn’t just frame the heroine time and time again; I kidnapped the hero, imprisoned him, and subjected him to every humiliation I could imagine, one idiotic atrocity after another. Asher’s love for me curdled into absolute disgust. He was the one who personally committed me. Not long after, I lost my mind and threw myself from a high window. And right now, Asher—not yet the all-powerful tycoon he would become—was kneeling at my feet. The collar of his white shirt was torn open, revealing horrifying, crimson welts across his chest. His pale face was slick with cold sweat, his lips trembling. The moment our eyes met, I knew. My life was probably over. His eyes, like those of a cornered animal, were locked on me, looking as if they might crack from the sheer intensity of his gaze. A storm of pure, unadulterated hatred brewed within them. I was about to cry. My name is Eleanor Franklin—Ellie—and I’ve spent my entire life trying to be a good person. I’m a coward. I don’t know the first thing about being a villainess. It’s not too late to fix this, I told myself. It’s not too late. My hands trembled as I worked on the iron shackles around his wrists. My gaze fell on the raw, red abrasions on his skin. A memory flashed through my mind, unbidden. When I had first locked him in these chains, I had touched every inch of his skin with a sick, possessive reverence. My sharp nails had raked across his pale face, leaving red tracks. “Asher,” my other self had whispered, “I’m going to lock you away by my side forever.” “You’ll only ever look at me.” A shiver ran down my spine. The Franklin and Kane families were old friends, our estates practically next to each other. Our parents had even made a half-joking childhood pact about us getting married one day. Asher was a year older than me. My earliest memories were of trailing behind him, calling his name in a sweet, soft voice. Asher had always been cool and reserved, but he treated me like a little sister, spoiling me endlessly. But then, my heart had grown gKennedyy. I was no longer content with being his pseudo-sister. When the male and female leads started growing closer, a venomous jealousy took root in me. And that’s why I’d kidnapped him for this twisted ‘forced love’ scenario. Clink. The shackle fell open, the chain clattering onto the floor. The sound echoed sharply in the vast, empty basement. I forced a placating smile, though I was on the verge of sobbing. “Ash-Asher,” I stammered. “If I told you I was possessed… would you believe me?” 2 A sharp, derisive snort. The corner of his lip curled up. His handsome, almond-shaped eyes were glacial and merciless. His voice was a raw, grating rasp. “Weren’t you going to kill me, Princess?” My body went rigid. He truly hated me. He used to call me Ellie. Asher narrowed his eyes, a dangerous fury simmering within them. He pushed himself to his feet and stalked toward me. His shadow fell over me, a crushing, suffocating weight. “Eleanor Franklin, what new game are you playing now?” More memories flooded my mind. Three days ago. I had lightly tapped his cheek with the whip. Smiled. I told him we were going to play a game. I’d unlocked his chains and tossed him a key. I told him the basement was a maze with seven sealed rooms. Only one path led to the single door to the outside. If he could find it, I’d let him go. He’d stumbled through every corridor, tried every single door, until he collapsed from exhaustion. Only then did I appear before him. My eyes had been bloodshot. I’d screamed at him like a madwoman. “You’re that desperate to leave? Isn’t being with me forever good enough for you?” “Are you trying to get back to Rosalie Kennedy?” “Why?! Why do you only have eyes for her now?” “Asher, you’re mine! You can only look at me!” “If you try to run again, I’ll kill you.” Rosalie Kennedy. The heroine of this story. After a falling out with his family in high school, Asher had stayed in the country for college. In his junior year, he co-founded a startup with Rosalie, his intellectual equal. They were inseparable—in the lab, at competitions, building their company. Their bond deepened, and after overcoming countless obstacles, they were destined for a perfect ending. And I… I was the biggest obstacle they had to overcome. Not only had I targeted Rosalie at every turn, but I had kidnapped Asher right before he was supposed to lead his team in a pivotal, career-making competition. I closed my eyes, wanting to weep but having no tears left. Ellie, oh Ellie, you really outdid yourself. You dared to treat the male lead like a dog. This kind of bold, reckless life… how did it end up being mine? When the hero is offended, there are no happy endings for the villain. Noticing I was lost in thought, Asher’s patience finally snapped. He grabbed my shoulders, his grip so tight I thought I heard bone crack. “Eleanor, answer me. What are you planning?” “When are you letting me go?!” His face was a terrifying mask of fury. He looked like he wanted to tear me to pieces, chew me up, and swallow me whole. I was on the verge of a complete breakdown. I stared at him for two seconds, resigned to my fate, then took a deep breath. And buried my face in his chest. I let out a wail that could curdle milk. “Asher!” I sobbed. “I was wrong! I was so, so wrong! The devil made me do it!” Sincerity. It’s the ultimate weapon. If I apologize fast enough, maybe the villainess’s fate can’t catch up to me. I sniffled, looking up at him through a blur of tears, my expression as pitiful as I could make it. “Asher, I’m only twenty. You have to let me make a few mistakes.” 3 The air went still. For a moment, his body tensed. Then, he let out a low gasp of pain as I must have bumped against one of his injuries. He shoved me away, hard. “Eleanor, do you think a simple ‘sorry’ erases everything?” he snarled, his eyes blazing. “Who the hell do you think you are?” He looked like he wanted to flay me alive. It’s over. He’s still going to kill me. Tears streamed down my face. I fumbled frantically inside my pocket and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper. I carefully smoothed it out and held it up to him. He’d written it for me when we were seven. So many years had passed that the paper had gone soft and fuzzy. The pencil writing was faded, but you could still just make out the words: “A Coupon for Forgiving Ellie for Anything She Does.” It had been over something stupid. He’d spilled my milk. But I, a spoiled little princess, had thrown an epic tantrum. Asher, who always acted like a miniature adult, had panicked for the first time. To calm me down, he’d written the note. In my previous life—the one in the story—I had used it, too. Right before he sent me to the asylum. But by then, I had done too many unforgivable things. It was useless. Honestly, I didn’t hate him for that ending. The things the original “me” did were monstrous. But now, this was my last lifeline. Asher stared at the note, stunned. He probably never imagined I’d kept it. A childish promise, now being cashed in for real. His lips, usually so expressive, were pressed into a thin, hard line. I couldn’t stop crying. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the ice in his eyes began to thaw. He released his grip on my shoulders. He turned and walked away without another word. At the door, he stopped and gave me one last, deep look. “Eleanor Franklin,” he said, his voice flat. “Don’t ever do anything that disgusts me again.” Disgusts. Yes. This twisted, possessive emotion… it was disgusting. I collapsed onto the floor, weak with relief. Tears still clung to my eyelashes, but I was already scrambling for my phone. My voice hit a near-supersonic pitch. “Mom!” “Get me into a study abroad program! Now!” “Germany! I want to go to Germany!” Asher belonged to Rosalie. They were a match made in heaven. I’d have to be insane to try and fight for him again, to get myself killed in the process. I was sure of it. Three years of undergraduate study in Germany would be the most unforgettable seven years of my life. And in seven years, Asher and Rosalie would be long settled. And I would be safe from my own terrible fate. Asher’s return was like a shot of adrenaline for his leaderless team. The competition was a high-stakes affair, with countless venture capitalists watching. Every rising star in the tech world was desperate to make a name for themselves and secure funding. The day of the semi-finals, a news alert popped up on my phone. I glanced at it. There was Asher, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his posture ramrod straight. His features were sharp, his rimless glasses giving him an air of calm, formidable intelligence. He was a world away from the battered, broken man in my basement. In the photo, his eyes met Rosalie’s across the crowded room. It was a look completely different from the hatred he’d directed at me. With her, his gaze was confident, steady. It was a silent promise: I’ve got this. He was a man in his element, indomitable. I shut off the screen. In the novel, the basement was just the appetizer. Later, I would take that proud, brilliant young man and torture him until he became a dark, twisted shell of himself. I would break his spirit, strip him of everything he had, until he was forced to grovel in the gutter, clinging to me for survival. In the end, my love would twist into a hatred so profound that I’d try to kill him and his family in a car crash. I rubbed my throbbing temples. That wasn’t love. That was pure, sadistic cruelty. No wonder he hated me. I clutched the study abroad application, stamped and approved by the dean’s office, and hurried my steps. Asher, I thought, Berlin is 5,300 miles away from our hometown. There’s a seven-hour time difference. It’s the furthest I can get from you. 4 The past few days had been a frantic blur of paperwork for my transfer. I was walking across campus, my eyes glued to my phone as I texted my department head, when I slammed right into someone. I rubbed my forehead, about to apologize, when a mocking laugh came from in front of me. “Well, well, if it isn’t Asher’s little shadow.” “Fancy meeting our Asher here. What a coincidence.” I looked up and met Asher’s cold, wary gaze. His brow was furrowed, the hand at his side clenched into a fist. He studied me for a long moment, his eyes filled with a mixture of aversion and some other, unreadable emotion. His voice was stiff. “What are you doing here?” My heart sank. I opened my mouth, but the name “Asher” wouldn’t come out. The people with him, his teammates, were oblivious. “What do you mean, coincidence?” one of them teased. “The way Ellie sticks to Asher, she’s probably got a GPS tracker on him. Wherever he goes, she follows.” They all laughed, thinking it was a joke. I felt like I was being pierced by a thousand needles. The phone in my hand suddenly felt like a hot coal. I nearly dropped it. Because it was true. There was a tracking app on my phone linked to his. Ever since Rosalie had appeared in his life, they had become partners, equals, sharing a world I could never enter. It was like an invisible barrier pushing me out. My insecurity had festered, and under the influence of that sick, possessive urge, I had installed the tracker. I had engineered every “chance encounter,” keeping him trapped within my line of sight, even basking in the teasing from our mutual friends, deliberately creating a false sense of intimacy in front of Rosalie. It wasn’t just Asher who was suffocating. I was suffocating, too. “So, Ellie, how come you didn’t come to watch the competition?” another teammate asked, his eyes still dancing mischievously between us. “You two have a fight or something? Didn’t think you guys ever stayed mad at each other.” A fight? It was closer to attempted murder. Asher’s expression grew darker by the second. I was panicking, my eyes instinctively flicking to the heroine. Rosalie Kennedy was as her name suggested: cool and composed. The teasing didn’t seem to faze her. She even looked at me with a flicker of amusement. As expected of the female lead. Cool, confident, and completely above engaging with a petty villainess like me. But me? The real Ellie? I was just a coward. As I was desperately trying to think of an escape, a loud, arrogant voice cut through the air. “Where’s Rosalie Kennedy?” 5 I turned toward the voice and was nearly blinded by the sheer amount of gold-dyed hair. The guy’s wild, handsome face had a dangerous edge. He was holding an iron pipe, the veins on his hand popping. With that hair and that attitude, he was the spitting image of a high-school bully. A shame. I shook my head. Anyone who goes up against the main characters is doomed to be cannon fodder. Wait. He looked… familiar. Asher moved subtly, positioning himself in front of Rosalie. His eyes were cold as he challenged the newcomer. “What do you want with her?” The bully, Cole, raised a sharp eyebrow, not backing down an inch. “Someone paid me to deliver a message.” He tapped the pipe against the ground meaningfully. A smirk played on his lips. “Rosalie, watch your back when you’re walking alone. Be careful, or…” Before he could finish, I sprang into action like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. It was him! I shot up on my toes, reached around his neck, and clamped my hand over his mouth, hard. “Sorry!” I chirped, my voice shaking slightly. “This is my friend. He got the wrong person! We’re just going to… catch up.” I was trying to drag him away when Asher’s hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. His dark eyes lingered for a second on my arm wrapped around Cole’s neck before returning to my face. He did not look pleased. “I didn’t know you had a friend like him.” What was wrong with him? After what I did, shouldn’t he hate my guts? Why was he suddenly concerned about who I was friends with? I lied through my teeth. “We just met. While you guys were at the competition. I haven’t been following you around lately, so you wouldn’t know.” I looked at him, my expression pleading. “Asher, you always told me to make new friends. I made a new friend. Aren’t you happy?” Even Asher, with his infinite patience, would get fed up with my clinging. Whenever he couldn’t take it anymore, he would rub his temples and gently persuade me. “Ellie, don’t you think you should have other friends besides me?” I was leaving. In these last few moments with him, I just wanted him to be happy. But Asher didn’t look happy. He didn’t look angry, either. He just released my wrist. His hand fell to his side, clenching into a fist. His dark eyes stared at me, deep and unreadable. Then, in silence, he watched me go. 6 We were a good distance away before Cole finally broke free from my grip. He ruffled his messy hair, his voice cold. “Hey, what was that all about?” I tried to sound casual. “Asher was right there. I was just afraid you’d blow our cover.” That’s right. The bully threatening the heroine was named Cole. And I had hired him. I paid, he did the work. He shot me a look full of scorn. “Relax. I have professional ethics. I took your money, I’m not going to rat you out.” He leaned in close, his sharp eyes scrutinizing me. “What’s wrong, Princess? Getting scared?” I knew he was provoking me. The tense line of his brow betrayed his own anxiety. He needed the money. Cole’s parents had died when he was young, and his grandmother, who had raised him, was now in the hospital. The medical bills were crushing him. In the original story, I had exploited this. I’d turned him into my sharpest weapon. And as the villainess’s enforcer, his end was just as tragic. He died on a rainy night after kidnapping the heroine. During a standoff with the police, he tried to take her with him and was shot dead. “I” had bought his morals, his future, and ultimately, his life. And in the end, “I” didn’t even use the money to save his grandmother. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. It felt like waking from a nightmare, my body weak and trembling. I was terrified of that other “me.” I pulled a debit card from my bag. “Here’s a hundred thousand dollars.” Cole’s expression shifted, a flicker of mockery in his eyes. But then they darkened, a storm of desperation and madness swirling within them. His voice was a low rasp. “A hundred thousand. That’s enough to buy her life.” I frowned and held up two fingers. “No,” I said seriously. “Two lives.” His frown deepened. I continued, “From now on, I want you to protect Rosalie Kennedy. Don’t let anything happen to her.” As the heroine, Rosalie came with the standard tragic backstory: a gambling-addicted father, a mother who favored her son, a sick younger brother. It was a mess. Consider this money a down payment on a bodyguard for her. And an apology for all the times I’d bullied her. I tucked the card into the pocket of his shirt. I stared him down, my voice fierce. “As for you, from now on, you’re going to be a good person. Every day, I want you to do one good deed. Or else—” “I’ll tell your grandma you were caught keying the principal’s car! We’ll see how long you can keep up that ‘good student’ act then!” I watched his tough-guy face turn from pale to red, then back to pale again. It felt good. Being a good person felt so much better. Why would anyone choose to do so many terrible things? I rubbed my chest, which still ached, my eyes stinging.

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We made a bet, my fiancé and I: first to make a hundred million in Hollywood wins their freedom. He’s an Enigma, masquerading as an Omega, the most manipulative man I’ve ever met. I’m a top-tier Alpha, no disguise needed. By day, I get to pin him by the throat for a scene, relishing every second. By night, he uses his pheromones to press me against a wall, leaving me breathless and trapped. “At the interview today, you said… you don’t like milk?” He traces my lips, a wicked little smile playing on his. “Wrong answer. You should have said, I love milk, wife.” 1 “Tell me you love me. Tell me you’re mine!” I gripped Frank’s throat, my hand pressing into the delicate skin as I leaned in and kissed him. I bit down, hard, drawing a bright bead of blood from the corner of his lip. He shoved me away, his face flushed, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I love you. I’m yours. Are you satisfied now, you animal!” Seeing him like that, so fragile and teary-eyed, I smirked and patted his cheek. “An Omega like you should be on your knees, begging for me. Understand?” “And… CUT! Fantastic! That was brilliant, just brilliant!” The director’s voice broke the spell. The crew swarmed in, helping a trembling Frank to his feet. “Omegas are so fragile. We can’t have our leading man getting hurt. Frank, that was incredible work. Why don’t you go rest in your trailer?” “Yes, yes, amazing job.” A chorus of concerned voices echoed around him, everyone worried the delicate Omega might collapse. They had no idea. Frank Vance was no delicate Omega. He was a goddamn predator. “Elara, darling,” Frank called my name, and a shiver went down my spine. “Walk me to my trailer? We can run our lines.” I wanted to refuse, but the well-meaning crew practically pushed me into his private trailer. Click. The door locked behind us. The fragile act vanished. Frank wiped the still-wet blood from his mouth, his expression turning cold. “Come here.” “What is it? If you have something to say, just say it. Why do you need me so close? I’m not deaf.” I backed into a corner, my eyes narrowed. “The ‘delicate Omega’? Seriously? You’re such a fake.” He closed the distance in two long strides, slamming me against the wall and capturing my lips with his. His hands snaked around my waist, pushing my shirt up. “Frank, don’t you dare go too far!” I shoved him off. He leaned back, tilting his head with an arrogant smirk. “There was no power in your eyes during that scene. Your acting is shit. What, are you scared of me?” His smile was pure provocation. “Did I go too hard on you last night?” I wanted to slap that perfect face. “Are you insane? You know, I could expose you, Mr. Vance.” He just raised an eyebrow. “Go ahead. We can announce our wedding date at the same time. My bonded Omega.” He paused, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “After this film, my net worth will cross a hundred million. You’re about to lose the bet.” 2 Both Frank and I were heirs to our respective family empires. He was an Enigma, a being so powerful that no top-tier Omega could satisfy him. So the families chose me, a top-tier Alpha, to be his bonded mate. After the engagement was forced on us, we made a deal. A bet. We’d both enter the entertainment industry. The first to reach a net worth of a hundred million dollars would win. If I lost, I would become his bonded Omega, for life. If I won, I’d go back to run my family’s corporation, and the engagement would be off. “You know, after this movie, I might hit that hundred million mark too,” I shot back. My character in this film was far more compelling. In a battle of popularity, I had a real shot at winning. Frank stepped closer, his fingers gently tracing my lips. “Do you want to lose, Elara? This little bet of ours?” I stared at him. “Lose? Of course not. What, are you planning to surrender?” I scoffed. “Two strangers, shackled together for life? It’s a tragedy for both of us. Let’s just call it quits and let each other go.” He laughed, a low, dangerous sound, and held his phone up to my face. “Strangers? That’s funny. Because I did a little digging… and it seems you’ve had a crush on me for years.” “Your diary,” he purred, “is much more honest than you are.” On the screen was a photo of my own handwriting. “I have a crush on the number one at the academy. His name is Frank Vance.” “He’s as beautiful as his name, like a star.” “I bet he’s an Omega. And I’m going to make him mine.” The cringe was so intense it was almost a physical blow. “I was sick back then, okay? I like Omegas. Is that you?” He arched a brow. “I like Omegas, and don’t I play the part well? My pheromones are even pinewood—your favorite.” I lunged for the phone, tackling him onto the sofa. “You’re nothing like an Omega! You’re a psychopath!” He just sat there, looking up at me. “Am I? Everyone out there seems to think I’m the perfect Omega.” He reached out, his hand settling on my waist, his gaze dropping. “It’s rare to find an Alpha with hips as strong as yours.” My eyes blazed. “Strong my ass. Have you ever considered that you have a despicable personality?” “Despicable?” He caressed my neck, leaning in to scent me. “Whatever gave you that idea?” 3 Whatever gave me that idea? How could he even ask? I pressed my hand against his throat. “How did you choose me to be your mate? Do you remember?” “Need me to refresh your memory?” Years ago, at a gala hosted by the world’s most powerful corporate consortium, hundreds of young, top-tier Alphas were gathered. The best of the best from every major family, including me. And Frank Vance, the sole Enigma, the crown prince of a vast business empire, stood alone on the third-floor mezzanine. He looked down on us all, and with a casual, indifferent gesture, his finger swept across the crowd and simply… stopped. On me. As if bestowing a divine favor. Frank frowned, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “I chose you because I liked you. Was that wrong?” His voice was laced with genuine belief. “From the moment I saw you, you were the only one.” He still didn’t get it. He had no idea how arrogant, how condescending he was. I hated that feeling, of being chosen like a prize pig at a fair. “And do you know,” I spat, “that on the night you chose me, they tied me up like an animal and delivered me to your room? For you, the great Enigma, to turn me into your bonded Omega.” “Tell me, was there any difference between me and all the other Alphas there?” Back then, Frank was in the middle of his first rut after presenting as an Enigma. I’m certain he didn’t care who it was. Whoever they threw into that room, he would have torn them apart like prey. He’d treated me like an Omega to be dominated. “When they carried me out of there, covered in my own blood, the Vance family transferred three hundred million dollars to the Sterling family. What was that? A tip for services rendered? Was I a beggar you were rewarding for a night’s work?” It was disgusting. Frank’s gaze faltered for a second. “I… I didn’t know about that. I wasn’t conscious that night…” “You don’t have to explain. It’s all in the past.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Do you love me? Or am I just a toy to you?” He leaned in and kissed me, a soft, fleeting touch. “If I didn’t love you, do you think I’d be playing this ridiculous Hollywood game with you? If I didn’t love you, you wouldn’t even have the right to get close to me.” He pulled me into a tight embrace, his pheromones washing over me in a calming wave. “I love you, Elara. And with you, I have been patient. Incredibly patient.” I pushed him away. “If you’re so patient, then honor our bet. Swear to it.” He was silent for a long moment, then nodded. “Fine. If you win, I’ll let you go.” 4 We were halfway through filming. To deepen the emotional stakes and flesh out the characters—and, frankly, to increase my chances of winning—I requested an additional kiss scene with the second male lead. The price for that request was being dragged to Frank’s penthouse and locked inside for the entire weekend. “Frank, are you crazy? I’m not your Omega yet!” I tried to leave, but all he had to do was release a fraction of his pheromones, and I was paralyzed. As I sank to my knees before him, he knelt to my level. “Adding a kiss scene? You’ve got some nerve.” His voice was low and dangerous. “Who the hell does he think he is?” His pheromones were suffocating. “What is your problem? He’s an Alpha. I’m not interested in him. He’s not a monster like you.” Leo, the actor playing the second lead, was a top-tier Alpha who was cast as a Beta. His pheromones did nothing for me. But Frank was radiating jealousy. He grabbed my head and crushed his mouth to mine. His hand clamped down on my hip, his voice a dark warning. “Don’t let him touch you.” He traced my lips with his thumb. “Every inch of you is mine.” Frank’s possessiveness was terrifyingly absolute. I’d never done many kissing scenes. In this film, the only real kisses were with him. I pressed myself against him, my voice a mocking whisper. “And how will you punish me? Rip my clothes off? Leave a temporary mark on me? Go on.” His eyes darkened. “Yes,” he breathed. “Let’s try that.” He bit down on my scent gland. The overwhelming power of an Enigma’s pheromones flooded my senses, threatening to drown me. But he stopped short. If he went any further, he knew he could seriously hurt me. For two years, it had always been like this. Kisses, embraces, but never the permanent bond. “Elara, I don’t mark you because I’m afraid you can’t handle it. Not because I can’t,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “If you really want it, I can have an ambulance waiting outside the door. I’ll mark you, and then they can resuscitate you.” For an Enigma to mark an Alpha, it required a long period of pheromonal soothing and induction. A forced marking could be fatal. I flopped onto the sofa, pulling him down with me. “Frank, you’ve been trying to ‘induce’ me for two years. What has it done besides make my heats more frequent?” He smiled, caressing my neck. “It’s also what will keep me from killing you when I lose control.” I shoved him away. “That’s never going to happen.”

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Three years with leukemia. Three years of Lucas selling his plasma to save me. Today, locked in the bathroom, I pressed a blade to my wrist—just as voices outside my hospital room spilled the truth. “Lucas forced Stella to be a guinea pig, faking leukemia for three years—worse than real chemo.” “He even wore a bald cap daily to keep up the act.” Lucas chuckled. “She’s a janitor. Honored to help Evie’s research. I’ll marry her later—compensation.” To ease his “burden,” I’d scrubbed hospital toilets. The razor clattered as blood pooled. The door flew open—Lucas’s eyes burning crimson. As I faded, my abandoned fiancé’s voice echoed: “I’ll wait. However long it takes.” 1 When consciousness returned, it felt like my eyelids were glued shut. But I could still hear them. The same voices, filling my room. “Lucas, you looked pretty panicked back there. Don’t tell me you’re actually falling for her?” “Get real. He’s the CEO of Lockhart Pharmaceutical Group. You think he’d fall for a janitor?” The room fell silent for a beat, punctuated only by the steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. I heard Lucas’s fingers tapping on the bedside table, a restless, drumming beat. Then, a short, sharp laugh. “Of course not.” His voice was cold steel. “If she dies now, Evie’s three years of research go down the drain. That’s all.” Each tap of his finger was a hammer blow to my soul. And to think, just for a second, I’d held a pathetic flicker of hope that he genuinely feared losing me. A phone rang. Not the cheap burner he always used around me, but a crisp, modern tone. “The monthly transfer came in? Good. Same as always—cash it out and toss it to some beggar on the street.” The voice on the other end was the hospital director’s. I knew it instantly. This hospital had thirty floors. Hundreds of toilets. Every single night, after my so-called “chemotherapy,” I would drag my broken body through the halls and clean them all. For two thousand dollars a month. It wasn’t much, but I had every penny deposited directly into the hospital’s account, desperate to lift some of the weight off Lucas’s shoulders. Over seventy thousand dollars in three years. All of it, thrown away to beggars. A chair scraped against the floor, the sound grinding against my exposed nerves, my shredded dignity. “Jesus, man. How can you even stand to look at her face every day? She’s a mess.” “Before the experiment started, she was actually pretty hot. I’d have killed for that body, that face.” A soft thud, like someone kicking the bed frame. “Disgusting,” Lucas spat. “Try wearing a bald cap for three years and pretending to sell your plasma to pay her medical bills. That’s disgusting,” he countered, his voice dripping with resentment. “But for Evie… it’s all worth it.” The last words were a whisper, thick with a tenderness that was never meant for me. Disgusting. The man I thought would die for me, the man I’d been with for two years before this nightmare began, was the very architect of my suffering. What a complete and utter fool I’d been. I ran away from my life, from the corporate marriage my father had arranged, only to have him freeze all my accounts. I was starving on the streets of this city when Lucas, a handsome delivery guy, offered me a bowl of simple rice porridge. For that one act of kindness, I’d torched the bridge back to my family. For five years, he was my everything. But it was time to wake up. With a monumental effort, I forced my eyelids open. “Stella! You’re awake!” Lucas’s voice was choked with emotion. He threw his arms around me, his eyes red-rimmed, clutching me like a priceless treasure. It was a performance so perfect, you could drown in it. “Don’t you ever do something so stupid again! I told you, I will never give up on you. You’re going to get better.” Then, he pulled back slightly, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Stella… did you… did you hear anything?” I stared at his bald head. It was the same head I’d looked at for three years, but now it seemed utterly alien. I stretched my lips into a weak smile, mimicking the adoration I always showed him. “Should I have heard something?” He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. The puff of air ghosted over my ear as he reached up and self-consciously touched his head. His tell. The nervous gesture he always made when he was lying. And for the first time, I saw it. The wig cap. The seam near his ear. It was so fake, so obvious. How had I never noticed in three years? How many times had I held him, my heart aching for him, begging him not to destroy himself for my sake? My gaze drifted to the other men in the room. They were dressed in expensive, tailored suits. Lucas, in contrast, wore a faded, washed-out shirt. The perfect disguise. Who would ever guess he was their boss? “Who are they?” I asked, my voice raspy. “Oh, them? They’re the buyers. For my plasma,” he said smoothly. “I just made a sale. Your next round of chemo is paid for.” One of the men in suits cleared his throat. “That’s right. Fifty thousand dollars, already transferred. Well, we’ll be on our way.” As they left, I spoke into the sudden quiet of the room. “I want to go home.” I knew the entire hospital was practically his property. To escape him, I first had to escape this building. He stared at me, stunned. I repeated myself, my voice firmer. “I want to be discharged, Lucas.” “I’ve been here for three years. I feel like my whole body is pickled in antiseptic!” I grabbed his arm, summoning the old, playful whine he could never resist. For three years, I had dreamed of leaving, but I’d never dared to ask. I wanted him to see me as a fighter, positive and determined. Now, uttering the words, I watched his face. And he agreed. Of course he did. He was, after all, still playing the part of the perfect, doting boyfriend who would do anything for me. The taxi sped through the city, his hand holding mine the entire time. It stopped in front of a run-down, decrepit apartment building. He carried my single bag up the stairs. The moment he opened the door, the air hit me first—stale and thick with the scent of damp and decay. “Stella, after you were hospitalized, I… I had to sell the condo we bought together. I rented this place,” he said, his voice heavy with false regret. “But don’t worry. I’ll work my ass off to buy it back for us.” The condo. We’d saved for two years, filling it with pictures of us, cozy furniture, matching towels and toothbrushes. Lucas, wearing an apron, cooking for me. How could the man in my memories be the same one whose lies I’d overheard in the hospital? Something soft and squishy under my shoe brought me back to the present. I glanced down. A dead mouse. I forced a bright smile. “It’s okay, Lucas! It’s… cozy. It even comes with a little pet!” He dragged my bag inside and began putting my clothes in a rickety dresser, just as he used to do in our beautiful home. “Stella, go get washed up. The doctor said you need to rest.” I went into the bathroom. The water meter on the wall read a definitive, stark: 0. He hadn’t just rented this place. He’d found an abandoned, condemned apartment to complete his charade. Rain began to streak down the grimy windowpane. I turned and caught my reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back sent a jolt of terror through me. Her bald head gleamed with a pale, bluish tint under the single bare bulb. Her cheekbones jutted out like razors. Her eyes were sunk deep into bruised, hollow sockets. That woman… it was me. For three years, Lucas had never let me look in a mirror. Now I knew why. I was a monster. Suddenly, the bathroom door flew open. With a roar of frustration, Lucas slammed his fist into the mirror. Glass exploded, showering the floor. A thousand tiny shards reflected a thousand versions of my grotesque face. Blood dripped from his knuckles onto the cracked linoleum. “Stella, don’t look,” he whispered, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry. Don’t look.” But his embrace was suffocating. He was so deep in his own lie, he was starting to drown in it himself. “I’m not that fragile,” I mumbled, pulling away to see his hand. “Let me take care of that.” As I wrapped his knuckles in gauze, the memories became sharper, more painful. Whenever he’d gotten hurt before, he would whine and beg me to kiss it better. It would always end with him pressing me into the mattress, his voice hoarse as he whispered a name over and over. “Evie… Evie…” Not Stella. Evie. A tear escaped and landed on the back of his hand. He flinched as if burned. Just then, his phone rang. He gently stroked my hair and stepped out onto the tiny, rusted balcony to take the call. The flimsy door did nothing to block the sound. “Are you coming home tonight, Lucas?” a girl’s voice, sweet and playful, chirped through the phone. “It’s my birthday tomorrow, you have to be there!” “I’m on my way back right now, sweetheart,” his voice was a river of gentle affection. “I’ll have a present for you tomorrow.” A clap of thunder rattled the windows. “I just got a call for a job,” he said, rushing back inside. “I have to go now. Lock the door behind me. If the thunder gets too loud, just cover your ears.” He was gone in a flash, but not before remembering my fear of thunderstorms. He’d left the balcony door open. A cold gust of wind swept in, drying the tears on my face. Using the last of the money on my phone, I bought a plane ticket home. Just as I confirmed the purchase, a text message popped up from an unknown number. “The Grand Imperial Hotel, tomorrow. You’ll get to see a very different side of your dear Lucas.” I knew who it was. Evie. The mastermind of my three-year-long torture. I’d never even met her. Why was she revealing the truth to me now? It was a trap. I knew it was a trap. But the next day, in an act of pure self-destruction, I went downstairs and bought a wig. … The taxi pulled up to the Grand Imperial Hotel, and the first thing I saw was the massive screen above the entrance. It displayed a looping photo of Lucas, dressed in a breathtakingly expensive custom suit, his hair styled to perfection. On his arm was a beautiful, smiling girl. Evie. So, after five years of being the center of my world, this is how I finally meet her. The invisible girl who, without ever showing her face, had turned my life into a living hell for her own ambition. I slipped into the grand ballroom like a rat slinking through the shadows, watching her moment of triumph. She stood on a stage, holding a microphone. “Thank you all for coming to my birthday celebration! I’m also thrilled to announce that my groundbreaking research on a new leukemia treatment is nearing completion!” The room erupted in applause. They were all praising her genius, her dedication. Her eyes found mine across the crowded room. A glint of challenge, of pure malice, sparked in them. Then, her voice, amplified and laced with panic, filled the hall. “Oh my god! The St. Christopher medal my brother gave me… it’s gone! Someone must have stolen it!” A wave of murmurs and commotion swept through the guests. Lucas immediately ordered the hotel security to find the thief. But they didn’t search the crowd. They walked in a straight line, directly towards me. My blood ran cold. I turned and ran. A hand tangled in my hair, yanking hard. The wig came off, fluttering to the floor. “It’s her! She’s the thief! She’s been lurking in the corner the whole time!” “Search her!” I spun around to face them, and my eyes locked with Lucas’s. He froze, the color draining from his face. He reflexively ran a hand through his own, real hair. “Stella? What are you doing here?” He took a step forward. “Whatever you saw tonight… I can explain when we get home. Please, just be good and give Evie back her medal.” Looking at him now, so polished and powerful, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. Tears streamed down my face. “Explain? Explain what? That I don’t have leukemia? That I was just a lab rat for Evie’s little project?” “You’ve been playing me for three years! Was it fun? Did you get a good laugh? I wanted to kill myself, Lucas! I almost did, over and over again!” “You know?” His voice trembled. He reached for me, his hand outstretched. He tried to say more, but Evie’s supporters were already on me. He did nothing to stop them as they grabbed at my clothes. My coat was ripped from my shoulders, exposing the thin hospital gown underneath. And beneath that, my skin. A horrifying canvas of countless needle pricks and vast, mottled bruises covering my torso and arms. Gasps filled the room. “Oh, god! How disgusting!” “What is wrong with her? She looks like she’s carrying a plague! Get her out of here!” Amidst the chorus of disgust, a sharp crack echoed on the marble floor. The St. Christopher medal had fallen from my pocket and shattered. The medal he claimed he’d gotten for me after a pilgrimage to a famous cathedral, where he’d knelt in prayer for days. I remembered him pressing it into my hand, a hot tear falling with it. “Stella,” he’d whispered, “you’re going to be okay.” “That’s it!” Evie shrieked, pointing at the broken pieces. “That’s the one my brother got for me after my fever last year! He went all the way to…” She trailed off, squinting. “Wait… no. That one just… looks like it. I remember now. This is the one he bought online for $4.99 with free shipping.” “A cheap knockoff.”

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My mother was the heroine of a redemption story. The kind who carries a broken family on her back, who, despite being covered in scars herself, becomes a little sun, warming the cold heart of the male lead. She finally “redeemed” him. As a reward, they got married, and then they had me. But the story was far from over. The novel got a sequel. My father was still the male lead. But my mother… she became the villainous ex-wife who used every despicable trick in the book to win him back, only to meet a tragic end, a mere foil to highlight the new heroine’s purity and kindness. When my father, in a bid to protect the “wronged” new heroine, slapped my mother in front of everyone and announced their engagement was off, my mother completely snapped. Abandoned by her family, ridiculed by the world, she leaped from a skyscraper. When I opened my eyes again, we were back at the beginning of the story. Don’t be afraid, Mom. This time, I’ll help you get back everything we deserve. … The day my mother was thrown out of the Thorne estate, she wasn’t wearing her favorite red dress. She always said that red was the color of life, full of passion and fire. But that day, she wore only a thin white shirt, her long hair a mess, the shadows of her lashes hiding the expression in her eyes. Two bodyguards in black suits flanked her, dragging her like a piece of trash. I was five years old. Hearing the commotion, I came out of my room, having to stand on my tiptoes to see over the hallway banister. A woman, her face streaked with tears, was nestled against my father’s side. “Arthur, don’t do this to Miss Vance,” the new heroine’s voice was soft and kind, but every word was a poisoned dagger, aimed squarely at my mother’s heart. “She… she only did it because she loves you too much.” My father looked down at my mother, his eyes filled with nothing but disgust and ice. “Katherine, I gave you a chance.” His voice was low, carrying a weight that permitted no argument. My mother didn’t speak. She just stared at me, her gaze silent and intense. It seemed my father had only just remembered I existed. He frowned and walked toward me. “Orion, come here.” I didn’t move. I just kept looking at my mother. In my last life, it was at this very spot that my nanny pulled me away, forcing me to watch as my mother was swallowed by despair. I was the final straw that broke her. Because she realized that even the child she had nearly died to bring into the world had ultimately chosen her glamorous, powerful father. But this time, it would be different. I ignored the nanny beside me. I ignored the hand my father held out to me. I took off on my little legs, one step at a time, until I was standing in front of my mother. I reached out my small hand and tried, clumsily, to wipe away the tear tracks that had long since dried on her cheeks. “Mommy, don’t cry.” Her body trembled violently. In those empty eyes, a flicker of light finally appeared. Her eyes widened, her lips moved, but no sound came out. And Arthur Thorne, my dear father, his face instantly turned a shade of livid green. “Orion Thorne! Do you have any idea what you’re doing?!” It was one of the countless times he had yelled my full name at me. In his world, I was first the nuisance who competed for my mother’s attention, and later, the burdensome reminder of a past he couldn’t shake. His focus had long since shifted to the new heroine, Serena. Serena tugged at his sleeve. “Arthur, don’t scare him. Orion is still so young. He just… he just can’t bear to leave his mother.” I paid no attention to their performance. I just tilted my head back and looked at my mother. “Mommy, let’s go home.” “Insolent child! Truly insolent!” I heard the old man behind Arthur—my grandfather—hiss, his cane thumping angrily on the floor. My mother was still dragged away in the end, but unlike last time, I didn’t stay at the Thorne estate. I broke free from the bodyguard who tried to grab me and shot out like a little cannonball, clinging desperately to my mother’s leg. “I want my mommy! I only want my mommy!” I wailed, my small body shaking with the force of my sobs. I knew that for a five-year-old, crying was the only weapon. And for a mother who had just lost everything, who had been abandoned by the entire world, her child’s absolute, unwavering dependence was a lifeline. It worked. For the first time, a flicker of raw emotion crossed my mother’s pale face. She knelt, pulling me into a tight embrace. I felt a large, damp patch spread where my head rested against her chest. “Orion… my Orion…” She was crying, a suppressed, desperate sound. My father’s expression was as dark as it was when he was planning a hostile takeover. He started toward me, but my grandfather stopped him. “Arthur Thorne! Look at the mess you’ve made!” My grandfather’s voice was thick with fury. “The boy is five years old! How do you expect him to face a father who tried to drive his own mother to her death?” My grandfather didn’t like my mother. He thought her family wasn’t prominent enough, her personality too flamboyant. But he valued the Thorne bloodline and the family’s reputation above all else. For his son to drive his fiancée mad and abandon his own child for another woman was, in my grandfather’s eyes, a scandal that could threaten his position as heir. In the end, between my crying and my grandfather’s pressure, Arthur Thorne relented. My mother could take me with her. But in exchange, she had to sign an agreement, forever relinquishing any claim to the Thorne family fortune and promising never to set foot in this city again. I saw my mother’s hand tremble, but she glanced at me in her arms and finally picked up the pen. After signing, she staggered to her feet, took my hand, and walked out of that gilded cage without a single look back. The sunlight outside was harsh. I squinted, looking up at my mother’s tense profile. Don’t be afraid, Mom. Last time, they forced you into hell. This time, I will personally drag down every single person who ever hurt us. — The truth is, I was reborn with my memories intact. In my previous life, I chose to stay with my father. I was so naive. I thought that if I could win his approval, my mother could come back to me. I thought that if I was exceptional enough, hardworking enough, he would see her worth and change his mind. I was wrong. In the world of the male lead, the heroine is the only rule. Anyone who gets too close, who tries to divert his attention, is an enemy. Especially the biological child of his ex-wife. He sent me abroad to receive the most rigorous elite education, all for my “own good,” he said. In reality, it was to keep me away from Serena, afraid that the daughter of the villainess would contaminate his pure, untainted true love. And my mother, after losing all contact with me, completely broke down. She started drinking, self-harming, retaliating against herself and Serena in the most extreme ways. Finally, to protect Serena from being harassed on the eve of their wedding, Arthur Thorne had my mother committed to a psychiatric hospital. I was only allowed to return to the country for her funeral. By then, I was twenty-five, armed with a degree from a top global university, a rising star on Wall Street. I thought I finally had enough power. I began a frenzied campaign of revenge against Arthur Thorne, using all my knowledge and connections to create public scandals and attack his company. But I was up against the male lead of a novel, a favorite of fate itself. All my efforts, in the face of his plot armor, seemed laughable and pathetic. My career was ruined, my reputation destroyed. In a carefully orchestrated “accidental” car crash, my life, filled with regrets and mistakes, came to an end. As red filled my vision, I thought of that night my mother was thrown out. If… if I had chosen my mother then, would things have been different? If I hadn’t left her, would she have been crushed by despair so quickly? If I had been smarter, sooner, could I have helped her escape that man-eating place? When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old. Back at the beginning of the tragedy. This time, I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I want my mother to live, and to live more brilliantly than anyone else. Arthur Thorne, Serena… the debt they owe us, I will collect it, bit by bit, with interest. We moved into a tiny apartment. Compared to the Thorne estate, it wasn’t even as big as one of their bathrooms. My mother sold all her designer bags and jewelry just to make the rent. She started looking for a job, but the title of “Arthur Thorne’s ex-fiancée” was like a brand, overshadowing her top-tier education and brilliant track record. No one dared to hire her. I could see her growing more haggard by the day. But when I would stumble into her room in the middle of the night, the light still on, she would just stroke my head and say, “Orion, why are you still awake? Should Mommy sing you a lullaby?” I had to do something. That afternoon, while my mother, exhausted from sleepless nights, was finally napping, I quietly took her phone. I found a number, the number of the only person who had offered me a helping hand in my past life. My grandfather. Using the clumsy, one-word-at-a-time typing of a child, I sent him a text message. [Grandpa, will you still come see Orion? Orion misses you a lot.] My grandfather cared only for reputation, but even so, he had secured me an opportunity to study in my past life. Of course, I wouldn’t approach him based on that alone. I took a picture of a practice test and sent it to him. [The boy next door threw away his test papers. Orion got all the answers right!] The innocent words of a five-year-old can be far more moving than the accusations of an adult. Especially when that child can ace a middle school exam. After sending the text, I immediately deleted the records. With that done, I lay back down next to my mother and obediently closed my eyes. Hiding one’s strength is a tactic for dealing with enemies. Right now, I needed to secure a powerful ally for my mother and me as quickly as possible. — My grandfather moved faster than I expected. The very next day, a well-dressed woman knocked on our apartment door. She introduced herself as my grandfather’s personal assistant, Miss Lee. Miss Lee brought all sorts of expensive supplements, toys, and an anonymous black card. “Young Master, this is a small token from the Chairman,” she said with a smile, then turned to my mother, her tone all business. “Miss Vance, the Chairman said that Orion is, after all, Thorne family blood, and he cannot be allowed to suffer. Please take this card. The pin is the Young Master’s birthday. Additionally, the Chairman has arranged a job for you. You can start tomorrow.” My mother stared at the black card, her hands clenched into tight fists. She bit her lip, about to refuse, but I stepped forward and took the card from Miss Lee’s hand. “Thank you, miss,” I said, looking up at her with a sweet smile. “Please tell Grandpa that Orion will be a good boy and won’t cause him any trouble.” My mother was stunned. She looked at me, her expression a complex mixture of emotions. A flash of approval crossed Miss Lee’s eyes. She gave my mother a polite nod and left. After the door closed, my mother couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Orion, how could you… How could you show weakness to them!” she hissed, her voice cracking as she knelt down. “They threw us out like garbage! This is no different from begging!” I stood on my tiptoes and gently pressed my lips to her forehead. “Mommy, this isn’t begging,” I said, taking her hand and speaking each word clearly. “This is the youth Arthur Thorne owes you. This is the child support the Thorne family owes me. This is what you rightfully deserve.” I knew that for a five-year-old to make such a calculated move was nothing short of shocking. But I was terrified. I was afraid of spending too much energy on pretending, of giving up the opportunity to build our strength. I was afraid that growing up at a normal pace would be too slow, that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with Arthur Thorne’s persecution of her. I was afraid that my mother, whom I had just gotten back, would once again be consumed by the story’s plot. Even if… she might really think I was a monster. My mother’s mouth opened, as if she were seeing me for the first time. I looked down, fighting back my tears, and pressed the cold black card into her palm. “Mommy, you’re my hero. I don’t want you to be worn down by life every day. I want to make Arthur Thorne regret it. I want to make everyone who looked down on us regret it.” My voice was small, my fingers trembling with fear. I didn’t dare look up at her. If she was scared, if she wanted to push me away, I wanted my last memory of her to be her caring expression. I was pulled into a warm, strong embrace. It wasn’t the desperate grasp of someone clinging to a lifeline, but an embrace full of power. “My Orion…” I heard my mother’s hoarse cry. “You… how much have you suffered?” Her thirty-three-year-old arms reached across time and space, holding her twenty-five-year-old soul tight. I broke down in her arms, sobbing. My mother started her new job at the company my grandfather arranged. It was a subsidiary of Thorne Industries. The position wasn’t high, but it was stable and quiet, and directly under my grandfather’s purview. I knew it was a form of surveillance. My grandfather had given us a stable life, but on the condition that we stay in our lane and not disturb the happy life of Arthur Thorne and Serena. Of course I wouldn’t disturb them. At least, not yet. I began to display a “talent” for finance and computers. I begged my mother to buy me a computer, and I spent my days immersed in financial news and coding websites, periodically sending my grandfather updates on my progress via text. I acted like a child who, completely disillusioned with his father, had turned to his grandfather for affection. After I once again pointed out a hidden problem in a project my grandfather had given me as a joke, he gave me a separate card. I used the money to set up an anonymous account and started dabbling in the stock market. With inside information from my past life and my experience fighting against my father, I quickly multiplied the money on the card several times over. In my grandfather’s eyes, despite occasional losses, I was maximizing the profits on all my stocks as much as possible. If I could become the story’s biggest villain without knowing the future, then with the extra information I had from being reborn, I certainly wouldn’t fail just because of a few butterfly effects from my investments. Before entering the stock market, I had already registered an overseas account using my mother’s information. Within a year, the account had five million dollars. This was our startup capital, the ammunition for our future counterattack. And my mother, of course, knew all of this. In her eyes, I was a child who had died before adulthood and been reborn, but still needed her protection. That was fine. The dark, dirty path of revenge was one I would walk alone.

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My entire class was sucked into a horror game. My classmates were all NPCs. I was the only player. When we entered the “Room 301” instance, my teammates thought I’d be torn to shreds by the Discipline Monitor for being late. Instead, the moment he saw me, he snapped his Death Note shut. The Academic Rep, with a second pair of phantom eyes floating above his own, skipped over me when collecting homework. The Class Beauty, her skin charred black, handed me a breakfast sandwich. “Sweetie, eat up before it gets cold!” The school bell, a harbinger of death, rang out. The instance’s final boss, his face a mask of cold indifference, walked in. I looked at our Class President, Aiden, stuffed into a formal suit, and I couldn’t hold it in. “Aiden, you look like you sell insurance!” The boss lost his composure. My teammates lost their minds. 1 [Welcome to the game instance: ‘Room 301’!] [All players are expected to be good students~] [Survive until Saturday to clear the instance.] [Today is Thursday. The game begins now. Good luck~] Compared to the other players, who were either stone-faced or breaking down, my expression was… twisted. A half-smile, a hint of disbelief, a profound sense of the absurd. It was because everything in front of me was just too damn familiar. The crooked security booth, the main building with its peeling paint, the dilapidated gymnasium… Don’t laugh. You’d be twisted, too. The live chat feed scrolled furiously across my vision. [What’s with the new girl’s face? She looks so done with this already.] [Trying to look tough?] Anyone who transmigrates and finds their own high school turned into a horror game instance would be “done with this,” thank you very much. My beat-up bike was even parked by the front gate. I instinctively patted the dust off the seat. A guy with bleached-blond hair saw me and grabbed my wrist. “Are you trying to get us all killed? What the hell is wrong with you!” [Wow, this rookie’s reckless. Touching stuff right away.] [I know, right? Rookies who mess with the environment are the worst.] [This instance starts slow. It’s normal for her not to be scared. She’ll learn her lesson when the Discipline Monitor starts taking names.] I shook off Blondie’s hand and scanned the area. Besides me and a chubby kid clutching a gift-wrapped box, the other four players were clearly veterans. They were huddled together, whispering. Every so often, they’d glance over at us like we were lambs for the slaughter. It was obvious. The chubby kid and I were on our own. Damn these vets. 2 Thursday. [Poor rookie. These four are notorious for using newbies as cannon fodder.] [That’s how you play the game. It’s about survival of the fittest. If a rookie dies, they deserved it.] [If all the rookies die, who the hell are you gonna watch, genius?] The comments flew by. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach, and I forced it down. The piercing sound of the first bell shrieked through the air. Everyone’s face changed. I instinctively checked the chat for a hint, but found nothing. In a flash, a woman in sunglasses lunged, grabbing the chubby kid and hurling him toward the school gate. “Waaah!” He landed hard, erupting in a terrified wail. Seeing that no traps were triggered, the veterans bolted past him, sprinting for the classrooms. Don’t be late! The thought cracked like a whip in my mind. I ran and hauled the chubby kid to his feet. His tears were splattering onto the gift box in his hands. I had no time for comfort. I dragged him along, yelling, “Stop crying! If you keep crying, you can find the classroom yourself!” “Huh? D-do you know where the classroom is?” [This rookie is heading straight for the classrooms! How does she know the way?] [Holy crap, she’s even faster than the vets! Is this some pro’s alternate account?] [The other four already used an item to teleport to the classroom door.] [LMAO, and they all got their names written in the Death Note for it. Hahaha!] 3 As we neared the classroom, my heart hammered against my ribs. A strange sense of anticipation gripped me. When I saw the familiar figure standing at the classroom door, all the fear and panic that had been building since I arrived in this world finally vanished. [Where are the black runes on the Discipline Monitor’s face? Those looked so cool!] [What the hell? Why did he turn normal the second he saw this rookie?] The Discipline Monitor—Liam—had a chilling gaze. Standing in front of him, I felt a phantom coldness on my neck. He silently stepped aside, letting me pass. But he shot out an arm, blocking the chubby kid behind me. He spoke, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down my spine. His hand flew open to a fresh page in his notebook. “Late. Name. Now.” I turned to look at Liam. “Liam, stop pretending. That was just the warning bell.” His body went rigid. After a few seconds of dead silence, he slowly shuffled aside, letting the chubby kid squeeze past him into the classroom. [??? The Death Note only has four names in it this round?] [How did she know it was the warning bell?!] [The four vets look pissed! LMAO, the Death Note baited them into wasting a resurrection item!] 4 Stepping into the classroom, I was greeted by familiar desks and familiar faces. I relaxed almost instinctively. My deskmate, the class beauty Sunny, beamed at me, waving her arm high in the air with a steady, excited rhythm. A warmth spread through me. The corners of my mouth turned up on their own, and I walked straight to my seat. I was completely unaware of how utterly bizarre this scene looked to the other players. [Worst luck ever. She had two empty seats to choose from and picked the one that’s a guaranteed kill.] [If you want to die, pick that seat. You die once from the Class Beauty, once from the Academic Rep, and again when the boss shows up.] [It’s more than three times. That’s just day one. You keep dying on day two.] [The seat binds you to a role. That’s the Vice President’s seat. It’s a death sentence.] Nearby, the woman in sunglasses tensed, her sharp gaze darting between me and Sunny. She looked like she wanted to say something. But the Academic Rep appeared at the front of the class without warning, and she immediately fell silent. My eyes were fixed on the Rep’s face. Where were the glasses I gave him? Why wasn’t he wearing them? And why did I feel like there was another pair of eyes hovering just above his own? The Academic Rep—Charlie—was as aloof as ever, his tone tinged with arrogance. “Homework.” [Here it comes. The second trap of this instance.] [What do you mean? This is my first time watching.] [The game’s sign-up page had a line of flavor text that was actually a homework assignment. You have to prepare it beforehand. Only vets can see it, but even they sometimes forget. A rookie getting dropped in cold has no chance. It’s a death sentence.] Blondie, Sunglasses, and a man with squinted eyes moved in near-perfect sync, slapping their papers down on their desks. Homework? I had tons of that stuff. I reached into my desk and rummaged around. For some reason, I felt something sticky and slimy inside. “Sweetie~ I have your paper right here~” Sunny giggled, placing the assignment on my desk. The one vet who had come up empty-handed whipped his head around, his eyes locking onto my paper like a starving wolf. A sinister smile spread across his face. “Newbie, huh? No one who sits in that seat survives the first day! Give me that paper. I’ll put it to good use for you!” “No,” I said, rolling my eyes. The next second, the paper vanished from my desk and reappeared on his. [This guy is still so shameless. Using an item on a rookie right off the bat.] [Holy crap, the rookie got a hidden item and he just stole it?!] Charlie collected the first three papers without a change in expression. But when he reached the vet’s desk and saw my paper, he smiled faintly. “Did you think… I couldn’t see clearly just because I’m not wearing my glasses?” The vet’s face went white. In the instant his eyes widened in terror, Charlie’s face split open, revealing a second pair of bleeding eyes! A blinding golden light erupted from the vet’s body! [Whoa, an S-rank life-saving item, the Golden Bell Shield!] Charlie’s pale hand reached out and pressed against the golden light. He crushed the shield as easily as if it were an eggshell. And along with it… the vet’s head. I didn’t see it happen. A pair of cold hands covered my eyes. “Sweetie, if you look at that, you’ll lose your appetite for breakfast!” 5 [Was that a unique item from the Class Beauty?] [No idea. First time I’ve ever seen that.] [Hahaha, serves him right for always screwing over rookies!] Charlie walked right past me without a single glance. The chubby kid in front of me was shaking like a leaf, the gift box crumpling in his trembling hands. “No… please… my gift… I haven’t given it to my parents yet…” He seemed like a good kid, just wanting to give his parents a gift. How could he be a bad person? I reached out and grabbed Charlie’s arm. He froze, turning to look at me. “Charlie, that seat has always been empty. He’s a transfer student who just came today, right?” “Transfer students shouldn’t have to turn in homework, right?” A strange silence fell over the classroom. The chubby kid’s sobbing was the only sound. The gazes of the entire class, including the three remaining vets, pressed down on me like a physical weight. Goosebumps erupted on my skin. Time seemed to stretch. Something flickered deep in Charlie’s pupils. An irrelevant thought popped into my head: he looked much better with the glasses I gave him. “Fine.” He gave an almost imperceptible nod. I snatched my hand back as if I’d been shocked. My palm was ice-cold. 6 “Sweetie, eat up while it’s hot!” Sunny suddenly pulled a familiar-looking sandwich from her desk. “Oh, I don’t know… class is about to start.” I hesitated. This was a game instance, after all… “But it won’t be good if it gets cold…” My bestie put on a pitiful pout. Who could resist that? I grabbed the sandwich and started eating. [Where am I? Is this still a horror game? I think I might be watching a high school rom-com by mistake.] [Did anyone else see that?! The way the rookie and the Academic Rep were looking at each other? He’s so soft on her! I’m kinda shipping this!] [Why isn’t she dead yet?!] Ring-ring-ring— The official bell for the start of class finally rang. [It’s the boss! The boss is here!] [Ahhhh, the boss in this instance is super hot!] I looked toward the door with a flicker of anticipation. Would it be our old homeroom teacher? The entire classroom plunged into darkness. The windows creaked ominously, and a dense pattern of bloody handprints materialized on the blackboard. Then, the classroom door was thrown open, and a darkness so thick you could taste it flooded in. My heart hammered against my ribs. I stared, transfixed, at the swirling ink-black void at the door. But the person who emerged from the darkness was a handsome face I knew all too well. Aiden! It was our Class President! Well… our Class President wearing a suit. Right now, he was nothing like the bright, cheerful boy from my memories. A chilling aura clung to him, making the very air feel heavy and stagnant. His dark gaze swept slowly across the room, and then, without warning, it locked onto me. The moment our eyes met— “Pfft.” Sorry, I couldn’t help it. Watching someone you know try to act all serious and intimidating is just hilarious. Who understands this feeling? “Aiden, you look like you sell insurance! Hahahaha!” The windows fell silent. The bloody handprints faded. The suffocating, cold presence in the room vanished in an instant. At the front of the class, Aiden’s face finally broke into the familiar, slightly exasperated expression I remembered. He shot me a glare, muttered, “Study hall,” and rushed out of the room. 7 In the world beyond my vision, the chat feed exploded. [Did someone put a curse on this instance’s boss???] [Wait, the biggest death trap of the first day just… ended like that??] [LMAO, I never realized this instance was so funny hahaha.] [That’s because by this point in a normal run, the classroom is usually covered in blood…] … During study hall, Sunny and I had a great time passing notes. For a moment, I felt a sense of dislocation, as if I hadn’t been transported into a horror game at all. It was just a normal day. A normal study hall at school. But the faint, cloying scent of blood that hung in the air, and the unfamiliar faces of the other players, were a constant reminder. This was a game instance. And my goal was to survive until Saturday. 8 School was over. The sky had turned a bruised purple, and a rain of blood began to fall. The other players and I were trapped in the classroom by an unseen force. My classmates filed past me, one by one. “See ya, VP.” “Bye, Clara.” “Later!” … I smiled and waved back at each of them. Finally, my bestie, my deskmate Sunny, gave me a hug and left. The classroom was now empty except for us so-called players. “Hey. What item did you use? Spit it out!” Blondie cornered me, demanding answers. The chubby kid flinched but still shuffled over, trying to place his small body between me and Blondie. He was too short, barely reaching my chin and not even clearing Blondie’s chest. He didn’t make for much of a shield. “None of your damn business.” Please. I was terrified when I first got here, but now? Buddy, what level are you on? I’ve got friends in high places. “Fuck!” Blondie exploded, swinging his fist at my face. Sunglasses was faster. She grabbed his wrist and turned to me. “Rookie, don’t be stubborn. Sharing information is better for everyone.” The squinting man closed in on my other side, his voice a sinister whisper. “That’s right. And if you don’t talk… we have ways of making you.” [These three vets are so shameless.] [Anyone who watches the streams knows that no rookie who gets matched with them ever survives.] [Isn’t doing whatever it takes to survive the point?] Sunglasses suddenly took off her glasses, revealing a warm, sisterly smile. “Listen, the death rate on the first day of this instance is forty percent.” “But on the second day… it’s one hundred percent. Do you know what that means? Cooperation is our only way out!” [Here we go, the classic vet speech to trick the rookie. There’s no such thing as an instance with a 100% death rate.] [To be fair, if you get the Vice President role in this instance, the death rate really is 100%.] [Yeah, day one is easy. It’s what comes next that’s hard. It’s about to start, isn’t it? The Great Hunt.] “The Great Hunt is about to begin,” the squinting man added, right on cue. “You don’t want to die, do you?” Blondie spat on the floor, his face twisted in disgust. “Why are you even telling her this? Let her die! She’s just a lucky noob who stumbled on a hidden mechanic. What the hell does she know?” Before I could react, he shoved me hard in the chest. “I hate rookies like this who get by on dumb luck. Pathetic!” I stumbled backward and crashed to the floor. The pain was so sharp that my vision went black for a second. Ring-ring-ring— The piercing school bell rang out again, without any warning. At the same instant, the blood rain outside turned into a torrential downpour. The empty school grounds were suddenly filled with the thunder of countless running footsteps and bloodcurdling screams coming from every direction. “Shit! Why did the Great Hunt start early?!” “RUN!!!” The three vets’ faces paled. They spun around and bolted out the door. I struggled to get up. Blondie glanced back over his shoulder, a vicious grin spreading across his face. He threw a paper talisman at me. I froze, completely paralyzed. The blood seeping up from the floorboards moved like a living thing, slithering up my ankles.

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My mission in this novel was to save the brooding villain. I took bullets, drank poison, fought his wars—believing I’d thawed his frozen heart. Then in our fifth year, I found Martin’s caged songbird: Daisy, a sunshine-smiled orphan. Her innocence intoxicated his darkness. I served divorce papers. He shredded them with a laugh, flinging a psychiatric report at me. “Sign this insanity plea, or I’ll break you.” When I refused, iron rods shattered my legs. As I bled out, screaming for the System, Martin sneered: “Still acting?” But when I vanished—truly vanished— Martin Bertrand went mad. 1 A mechanical voice echoed in my head. “Host, you will be extracted from the novel world in three days.” As if to twist the knife, the man before me, Martin, calmly, almost lazily, drove a blade through the palm of my hand. “You wanted to go back to your world, didn’t you? Why are you still here? Do you need me to send you on your way?” I trembled from the searing pain, and a fresh wave of warmth bled from between my legs. Martin recoiled with a look of disgust. Just then, a bright, cheerful voice called from behind him. It was his little songbird, Daisy. “Martin, honey, I want to see the meteor shower tonight!” His expression melted instantly. “Of course,” he answered, his voice a soft murmur. He turned back to me, his fingers digging into my jaw. “Stop the act. You’re not going to die.” He leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper. “If you don’t sign those papers, if you dare threaten Daisy’s position in any way, I’ll have one of your bones broken every single day.” A teary laugh escaped my lips. When Martin was targeted by an assassin, I took the bullet for him and burned with a fever for two days. When he was in a car crash, I shielded him with my own body, nearly dying in the process. When a rival tried to poison him, I drank the wine and was unconscious for three days and three nights. The doctors warned me that my body was fragile, that I needed to recover. But in Martin’s eyes, I was indestructible. A cockroach that just wouldn’t die. His only concern was whether his precious Daisy had eaten enough for dinner. The difference between being loved and not being loved… it was a chasm. Martin stepped over me, my body convulsing, and ordered his men, “Clean this up. Don’t let it frighten Daisy.” In the courtyard, he pressed the girl against a wall, kissing her with a ferocity that seemed to want to devour her whole. And on his wrist, I saw it—the lucky charm bracelet my parents had given me. “Martin, what’s this?” Daisy asked, her eyes sparkling with delight. Without a moment’s hesitation, Martin slipped it from his own wrist and carefully fastened it onto hers. “I hope it brings you peace, health, and happiness, Daisy.” I remembered the day I gave him that bracelet. He had held me tight, his voice thick with emotion as he promised, “Elara, you’re the first person to ever be this good to me. I hope you have a life of peace, health, and happiness.” He had sworn to cherish it forever. Now, he’d given it to her. It was the only thing I had from my original world. I scrambled to my feet, tearing away from the guards and lunging toward the courtyard, desperate to get it back. I was still a few feet away when Martin spun around, shielding Daisy with his body. He sent me flying onto the lawn with a single, brutal kick. He frowned, turning his full attention to the girl in his arms. “Daisy, are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. Then, his gaze fell on me, trembling on the grass. His tone turned to ice. “Elara, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Don’t you know how delicate she is? If you scare her, I’ll kill you.” I looked at Daisy, shivering in his embrace, her innocent face filled with nothing but trust and reliance on him. I could see why he was so addicted to her. “Look out!” Suddenly, an old, rickety trellis in the yard began to topple over. I instinctively stumbled backward, but Daisy, in a sudden move, rushed forward and threw her hands up to stop the falling wood. A sharp pain shot through my palm, snapping me back to reality. It wasn’t the trellis. Daisy’s stiletto heel had ground my hand into the grass, pinning it to the ground. Martin swept Daisy into his arms, pulling her back several steps, not sparing a single glance for me, trapped beneath the fallen frame. A flicker of panic crossed his eternally cold features. “Are you hurt? Where?” Daisy blushed, shaking her head softly. “I’m fine, but… she’s trapped under the trellis.” At Daisy’s prompting, Martin finally bestowed a glance upon me. “That’s what she gets,” he said coldly. A dozen doctors swarmed around Daisy, but she took a roll of gauze and walked over to me. “Don’t be mad at Martin,” she said softly. “His bark is worse than his bite.” She gestured to a tiny scratch on her arm. “Look, my cut is tiny, but he insisted on flying in a specialist from abroad. He has such a good heart, really.” I saw the blush on her cheeks and couldn’t tell if she was showing off or if she genuinely believed Martin was a kind man. A bitter laugh escaped me. A few days ago, I had a miscarriage. I was alone in the hospital. Martin’s only contact was a single, furious text message. “You can’t even protect a child. What are you good for? Elara, your very existence is a waste of hospital resources.” So, for me, seeking medical care was a waste of resources. I blinked, a wave of confusion washing over me. Maybe I really had loved the wrong man. My fingers tightened around the divorce papers I’d hidden. I signed my name. Suddenly, two bodyguards burst into the room and dragged me into the living room. Martin ordered them to strap me to a table. A needle, as thick as a baby’s arm, was plunged into my vein. A doctor spoke to Martin, his voice trembling slightly. “Mr. Bertrand, while Mrs. Bertrand’s blood type is a match for Miss Daisy, her recent miscarriage and today’s injuries… a forced transfusion could lead to hypovolemic shock from excessive blood loss.” “Say one more word, and you’re fired.” Martin leaned back on the sofa, his expression unyielding. “It’s an honor for her to give blood to Daisy. No matter how much she complains, she’ll be back to cooking my soup tomorrow like a good little wife. Just make sure Daisy recovers. I don’t care about her. She’s not going to die.” He noticed the network of scars on my arms and hands, and for a fleeting moment, his expression softened. “Does it hurt?” I looked at the marks—every single one a testament to a time I had saved him. Once, they were proof of my love. Now, they were just a joke he took for granted. I turned my head away as a single tear escaped. “It’ll be over soon. Just hang in there,” he said, patting my head in a hollow gesture of comfort. Just then, a soft whimper of pain came from the bedroom. It was Daisy. At the sound, Martin waved the doctor away, took the syringe himself, and sped up the blood draw. The doctor paled. “Sir, at that speed, the pain will be immense, and the risk of shock is much higher.” Without a flicker of hesitation, Martin’s voice was cold and clear. “Elara is a healthy woman. What’s a little pain? Don’t be so dramatic.” “But…” The agony was so intense my lips were turning blue. I cut the doctor off. “It’s alright. It doesn’t matter. As soon as this is done, I’ll be leaving anyway.” Martin’s dark eyes fixed on me, a flicker of something like frustration in them. “Where else could you possibly go but here, with me?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” he continued, his tone softening into what he probably thought was reason. “Once Daisy is better, I’ll let you continue being Mrs. Bertrand.” A clap of thunder roared outside. From the bedroom, Daisy cried out his name, her voice thick with fear. Martin’s face tightened with anxiety, and he immediately started toward her room. My body trembled, and on pure instinct, my fingers clenched the corner of his jacket. He froze, then shot me a look of pure derision. “Elara, I haven’t even settled the score with you for hurting Daisy this afternoon, and now you’re pulling stunts like this for attention? Don’t push your luck.” I pulled the crumpled divorce agreement from my pocket and held it out to him, forcing a weak smile. “No, Mr. Bertrand. This is the contract the company needs for tomorrow. Could you sign it?” Consumed with worry for Daisy, he didn’t even glance at the paper. He scribbled his name and flung it back in my face. “God, Elara, you really are obsessed with money, aren’t you?” The sharp edge of the paper cut my cheek. I carefully folded the document and tucked it away. I was finally free. Through the half-open door, I saw him. The man who wouldn’t flinch with a gun to his head was now gently coaxing Daisy to eat her soup. She sat in his lap, tears streaming down her face like a summer rain. And Martin—this was the same ruthless man who once had an enemy’s fingers broken one by one—his brow was furrowed in distress, as if her tears were more painful than any enemy’s blade. “Shh, don’t be afraid. I’m here,” he murmured, his deep voice a blanket of security. Too bad that security was never meant for me. I was terrified of thunderstorms. It was on a stormy night that I was forced into this strange, unfamiliar world. Lost, helpless, and consumed by fear. On our wedding night, Martin had watched me tremble and said coldly, “If you’re scared, just bear it. That pathetic look on your face is disgusting.” I had borne it for fifteen years. After I arrived in this world, the System gave me all of Martin’s data. I knew from the very beginning that he was my only ticket home. At first, it was just a mission. But slowly, my heart got involved. Martin was cold-blooded, ruthless, a product of a tormented childhood. I believed that if I was good enough to him, obedient enough, I could one day find a way into his heart. I chased him like a lost puppy for ten years and shadowed him like a ghost for five more. In the end, he never loved me. There was no point in forcing it anymore. I glanced at the System’s countdown. One day left. We would never see each other again. Daisy, dressed in a brand-new white dress and a glittering necklace, approached me. She smiled, her expression a perfect picture of innocence, and linked her arm through mine. “Elara, I heard you saved me the other day when I was anemic. My boyfriend and I want to take you skiing to thank you. What do you say?” She noticed my gaze fixed on her necklace, and her smile widened. “My boyfriend flew to Paris last month just to buy this for me.” He hadn’t bought it. Martin, the man who usually only cared for knives and guns, had spent two sleepless nights crafting it by hand. My heart had soared, thinking it was an anniversary gift for me. When I had accidentally touched it, he had exploded in a rage. He had his men strip me and forced me to kneel in the snow for three days and three nights. Martin was capable of love. When he fell for someone, he gave her every ounce of his tenderness. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and started to refuse. “My leg…” Before I could finish, Daisy’s eyes filled with tears. “Elara, I found out two days ago that I’m pregnant. My boyfriend insists on taking me to the chapel in the mountains to pray for the baby…” “That’s impossible,” I blurted out. After his parents died, Martin had lost all faith in God and religion. He despised it. I remembered after his car accident, I had gone to a monastery, fasting and praying for three days for a protective charm for him. He had thrown it in the trash without a second thought. His voice had been like ice. “I hate this sentimental garbage more than anything. If you ever do something like this on your own again, I will kill you.” Just then, Martin walked over to Daisy, his eyes shooting a warning glance at me. “The mountain scenery is beautiful. It’s just a minor leg injury. Surely Miss Vance isn’t that dramatic.” My heart sank. I was leaving soon anyway. There was no point in provoking them now. “Fine.” Daisy’s face immediately broke into a radiant smile. Martin tweaked her nose affectionately. I waited on the snowy peak for three hours. The roar of a helicopter finally split the air. Snowflakes drifted down as the handsome, powerful man guided the petite Daisy through the pristine white landscape. If I hadn’t been Martin’s partner for fifteen years, I might have been like the onlookers, sighing with envy at the picture-perfect couple. “Oh, Elara, I’m so sorry! I overslept, and Martin didn’t wake me,” Daisy said, shooting a playful glare at him. Martin just chuckled. “What can I do? You’re my sleepy little kitten.” “Well, it’s your fault for being so naughty last night!” They flirted openly, only noticing my presence when I coughed. Martin frowned, annoyed. “If you’re not feeling well, you shouldn’t have come. Don’t be so melodramatic now that you’re here.” I rubbed my frozen fingertips together, saying nothing. I just grabbed my ski equipment. Skiing used to be my favorite sport, but Martin said it wasn’t ladylike. So I stopped. Now, I could finally have some fun. I pushed off, gliding past them and down the mountain. I noticed Martin’s eyes on me, and Daisy’s gaze flickered. “Martin, honey, you go on to the chapel. I’ll just watch for a bit and meet you there.” Martin carefully adjusted her scarf, murmuring a few more words of caution before he reluctantly left. “Aaaah!” A scream from behind me. I spun around. Daisy was on the ski slope, and a group of clumsy skiers were careening straight for her. If something happened to the person Martin loved, he would burn the world down. And my chance to go home would be gone with it. On pure instinct, I lunged, grabbing Daisy and shoving her toward the soft snowbank on the side. The skiers slammed into my back. The wound on my leg tore open again with a fresh burst of agony. Someone grabbed a ski pole and brought it down hard on my head. “Stupid bitch, ruining our fun.” Crack! My head exploded in a wave of white noise. Blood streamed from my forehead, staining the pure white snow. The ski resort erupted into chaos. The men who had attacked me now advanced on Daisy. She shrank back, her voice trembling. “Who are you?” “Little lady, next time, tell Martin Bertrand not to make so many enemies!” The leader of the group raised his ski pole, aiming for her stomach. The thought of my only way home being destroyed gave me a surge of adrenaline. Gritting my teeth, I threw myself over Daisy. The man motioned for his cronies to pull me off. “Well, look what we have here. Bertrand’s got good taste. This one’s a beauty, too. You boys can have your fun with her. I’ll take care of this one first.” As the leader’s knife arced toward Daisy, she squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face. Just then, a single, sharp gunshot cracked through the mountain air. Bang! The leader crumpled to the ground, clutching his leg in agony. And there, walking through the snow like a vengeful god, was Martin. His face was a mask of cold fury, his deep eyes burning with murderous intent. He went straight to Daisy, scooping her up gently. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

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1 When our son’s birth certificate was damaged, I went to the hospital for a replacement—only to be told they had no record of my delivery. Then ghostly text appeared: [Villainess Amelia Thorne discovers the truth! Her “son” was actually born to Sierra Lynch, the intern who risked her life delivering him. Amelia’s real daughter? Dumped in an orphanage.] The administrator confirmed: “Mr. Thorne is the father, but the mother is Sierra Lynch.” Sierra—Luke’s intern. The true heroine, according to those floating words. I gripped the counter. “Was a girl born here that same day?” The clerk’s face darkened. “Yes. Marked as… abandoned.” … I returned home to find Luke’s childhood friend and a few others lounging in the living room. Standing in the shadows of the foyer, I heard his friend’s teasing voice. “Luke, I heard you hired that Sierra girl as some kind of ‘child development specialist’ for Noah. Aren’t you worried Amelia will flip?” Luke’s voice was flat, betraying no emotion. “Amelia has always been magnanimous. And Noah really adores Sierra. She’ll understand.” The spectral text, which I now understood to be some kind of running commentary on my life, exploded with activity. [Exactly! Our sweet, gentle Sierra is an angel. Why would that witch Amelia have any right to be upset?] [OMG, you don’t know? The day Amelia gave birth, Luke wasn’t with her because Sierra was also in labor! Sierra had a complicated delivery and almost died. Luke stayed by her side all night!] [Tsk, tsk. Amelia thinks she’s the lady of the house, but she’s not even as important as a warm body in his bed.] No wonder. When I was wheeled out of the delivery room, all I saw was his exhausted, distant face. I thought he was just tired from the long wait. I never imagined his concern, his anxiety, had been spent on another woman and another child. His friend sighed. “Man, you care so much about Amelia. We grew up together, and I’ve never seen you so devoted to anyone. Why did you have to…” “That’s enough,” Luke cut him off. “Don’t bring up the past.” He paused for a beat. “As long as she doesn’t know, nothing is wrong.” Hearing the truth from his own lips felt like a knife twisting in my heart. All the way home, I had clung to the desperate hope that the commentary was a lie, that he had a good reason. Now I knew. He was consciously, willingly, in love with two women. Wiping my tears, I turned and walked away. I immediately did two things: First, I hired a private investigator to look into a place called “Angel’s Crest Orphanage.” Second, I called my father and told him to prepare for a hostile takeover of Thorne Industries and to begin transferring our family’s entire business portfolio overseas. The deadline was two weeks. Over the next few days, I played the part of the gentle, understanding wife, turning a blind eye to Sierra’s intrusion into our home. Luke seemed pleased with my “sensible” behavior. He booked an entire equestrian club for the weekend, promising to watch the races with me and help me pick out the finest thoroughbred. All because I loved to ride. He held my hand, his voice wrapped in that familiar tenderness. “Mia, remember? When you were sixteen, I fell off a horse trying to teach you how to ride. I fractured my leg and was in a cast for three months.” Of course, I remembered. He had limped to my school on crutches, bringing me snacks like an oversized, devoted puppy. “You said back then that you would be my knight, that you’d always protect me,” I said, looking at him. A complex emotion flickered in his eyes before he squeezed my hand tighter. “I still am.” “Mia, I will always be your knight.” As he spoke his vows of eternity, all I could hear were the endless insults and mockery from the spectral commentary. The sincere boy I once knew was fading away, dissolving into a stranger. Half an hour later, we were seated in the VIP box with the best view. The sun was blinding, triggering one of my migraines. A sharp pain throbbed at my temples. Luke noticed immediately, steadying me with a concerned hand. He barked at his assistant, “Get my wife’s pain medication and her sunglasses to the club. You have five minutes!” Soon, someone came running up, panting. “Mr. Thorne, I have them.” Luke and I turned at the same time. It was Sierra. She held the medicine and a pair of sunglasses, dressed in a simple tracksuit. Her forehead was beaded with sweat from her rush, her face pale, giving her a pitiful, delicate look. Luke’s expression soured. “Who told you to come?” he hissed. “Where’s my assistant?” Sierra bit her lip, her voice soft and wounded. “Mr. Davies was with an important client. I heard Mrs. Thorne wasn’t well and I didn’t want to waste any time, so I took a taxi myself.” Luke took the items and handed them to me. I said nothing, just put on the sunglasses and went to the powder room. When I came out, Luke was gone. The commentary was providing a live feed of his location: [Luke pulled Sierra behind the stables! Oh my god, there’s a haystack! My imagination is running wild!] My fingers tightened around my phone as I slipped around to the back of the stables. Peeking through a gap in the hay bales, I saw Luke pressing Sierra against the wooden wall, kissing her deeply. Sierra feigned resistance, her breaths coming in short gasps. “Don’t… Luke, Mrs. Thorne is still here…” “Forget her for a minute.” His voice was a low, husky growl. He reached up, wiping the sweat from her brow. “Are you an idiot? Taking a taxi in this heat? You know you’re prone to heatstroke.” “I was just worried about you…” Sierra’s voice had a tearful edge. Her vulnerability only seemed to fuel his desire. He kissed her again, harder this time. “Stay still,” he murmured, his voice a seductive command. “Let me hold you. I need to make sure you’ve been eating properly.” I stood frozen, listening to the rustle of their clothes, my heart aching so badly I could barely breathe. After the races, Luke took me to the horse paddock. A magnificent, chestnut-coated thoroughbred was being led by a groom, its muscles rippling. “Do you like her?” Luke asked, embracing me from behind. “I chose her for you. The best horse in the entire club.” I was about to reach out and stroke the horse’s neck when Sierra, standing nearby, let out a sudden, sharp shriek. She pretended to trip over a stone, stumbling directly toward the horse’s rear. “Heee-yah!” Startled by the sudden noise and movement, the thoroughbred reared up, its hooves flailing wildly before crashing back down. In that split second, Luke didn’t hesitate. He lunged, yanking Sierra out of the way and shielding her with his own body as they rolled to safety. And I was left behind, abandoned to face the terrified, rampaging animal alone. I scrambled backward in panic but tripped on the turf, watching in horror as a massive hoof came hurtling down toward my leg. CRACK! An explosion of pain, and then darkness. I didn’t even have time to scream. My last memory was Luke’s face—after he’d settled Sierra—turning to see what had happened, his features contorted in terror, his voice tearing through the air in a desperate cry. “Mia—!” 2 When I woke up, I was in a hospital VIP suite, my leg in a cast and elevated in a sling. At sixteen, he had broken his leg for me. A decade later, I had broken mine because of his new love. The irony was not lost on me. Before I could even process the bitter thought, I saw Sierra sobbing softly in Luke’s arms. “What am I going to do? It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have startled the horse. Punish me, Luke.” He wiped her tears, his voice dripping with affection. “You really want me to punish you?” Sierra blinked and nodded. Luke chuckled, pressing his forehead against hers. “Then… give me a kiss, and we’ll call it even.” Her eyes shining with adoration, she planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Luke cooed at her tenderly. “There, there. It’s okay. Hubby will take care of everything.” The commentary went wild. [AAAAAH! HUBBY! Luke called himself hubby again! I ship them so hard!] [Sierra is too kind. It was Amelia’s own fault for being useless, but Sierra still blames herself. My heart aches for her!] I watched them, and when I turned my head, my phone slipped from the pillow and hit the floor with a clatter. The sharp sound startled them. Luke whipped his head around and finally saw that I was awake. He rushed to my side, his eyes filled with concern. “Mia, how are you? Does your leg still hurt?” He took my hand. “I’m so sorry. It all happened so fast. I couldn’t protect you in time.” I closed my eyes, too weary to argue. “Sierra?” I asked softly. Luke’s expression shifted. He motioned for Sierra to leave, then immediately began to explain. “She didn’t do it on purpose. She was just trying to help calm the horse. But it was still her fault. I’ve punished her severely.” Yes, I thought with a cold, internal laugh. A very severe punishment indeed. [LMAO, Luke is so good to her. A kiss is the punishment. I’m crying from the sweetness.] [He’s so creative. Let’s hope the punishments get even more ‘severe’.] Luke canceled his work appointments to stay with me at the hospital. He brought “our son,” Noah, to visit every day. He washed me and fed me without a word of complaint. If I hadn’t seen his other side, I might have been fooled by his devotion all over again. The day I was discharged, he threw a party for me. In the banquet hall, he held me from behind and whispered, “Still angry?” His voice was placating. “I swear, it was a misjudgment on my part. What will it take for you to forgive me?” I smiled at him. “Fine. Fire Sierra Lynch. And never let her see Noah again.” Luke’s face tightened, but his tone remained soft. “Mia, she’s just a work-study student. She’s all alone here. Do you have to be so cruel?” I stared at him, about to reply, when the nanny rushed over with Noah in her arms, her face pale with panic. “Sir, it’s terrible! Ms. Lynch is gone!” “She was just playing with the young master, then she took a phone call and left. All she left was this note…” Luke unfolded it. It was Sierra’s handwriting. I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt Mrs. Thorne… Just then, Luke’s phone rang. “Mr. Thorne, help me! Please, let me go, don’t…” It was Sierra’s voice. Luke’s gaze shot to me, sharp and piercing. The look in his eyes morphed from anxiety to suspicion, and then to outright fury. “Amelia, where is Sierra?” His voice was tight. My heart clenched. He didn’t trust me. He didn’t even need proof. He had already decided I was the culprit. Noah, standing nearby, was frightened by the icy tension. He struggled out of the nanny’s arms and ran to Luke, hugging his leg and wailing, his words garbled. “Bad… bad mommy… want… Sisi…” “Sisi” was his pet name for Sierra. The scene was the final straw. Luke’s reason snapped. He looked at me, his eyes stripped of all warmth, leaving only bone-deep disappointment and disgust. “Did you hear that? Even Noah knows you did it!” He grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight I thought the bones would shatter. “I warned you not to touch her! Why wouldn’t you listen? How could you resort to such a disgusting tactic?!” “It wasn’t me.” My face was white with pain. “I’ll say it one last time. I don’t know where she is.” Luke exploded. “Amelia, I must have been blind to ever think you were generous and kind!” He shoved me away violently. CRASH! My injured leg gave way. I collapsed to the floor, the wound tearing open, blood instantly soaking through the bandage. The room erupted in gasps, but Luke was oblivious. He scooped up Noah and strode toward the exit, barking into his phone. “Trace that number! Get everyone out looking for her, now!” I pulled myself up, leaning on the balcony railing for support. Blood seeped from my leg, but I felt no pain. Compared to everything else I’d been through, what was this? I stared at the direction he’d gone, clutching “our son,” and a slow, chilling smile spread across my face.

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