The day Ethan Shaw took home the Annual Medical Pioneer Award, I canceled a livestream that could have earned me over a million dollars. I put on my most ordinary clothes and sat in the most inconspicuous corner of the audience. I wanted to surprise him. Seven years of marriage, and I was the invisible ATM behind his success. To fund the ALS treatment he called “a drug that will change the world,” I worked nonstop for seven years, pushed myself until I coughed up blood, and wired him a total of thirty million dollars. But when the spotlight came on, and the host invited his family to the stage — A woman in a custom couture gown walked up holding the hand of a five-year-old boy. Ethan’s eyes glistened with tears as he kissed her forehead. “Thank you to my wife. Without her, there would be no Ethan Shaw standing here today.” I stared at that boy, and felt the blood drain from my entire body. The boy’s name was Noah Shaw. That was the name we had chosen for the child I miscarried.

The applause in the hall was thunderous, so loud it made my eardrums ache. I stared, unblinking, at the smiling faces of that family of three, enlarged on the giant screen above the stage. Ethan was wearing the black tailored suit I’d had custom-made for him. He stood tall and straight. He glanced down at the woman beside him, his eyes overflowing with a tenderness that looked almost too deep to be real. Her name was Vivian Cole. The starfield gown she wore was a globally limited edition from one of the most exclusive luxury fashion houses in the world. Last month, Ethan told me that a core centrifuge in the lab had broken down. He said they needed to rush-order a replacement from Germany, and they were two hundred thousand dollars short. Without a second thought, I dragged my fever-wracked body through four extra hours of livestreaming and wired him the money. That two hundred thousand dollars was now wrapped around Vivian Cole’s body. “Mr. Shaw, the journey to developing this treatment must have been full of obstacles,” the host said with a smile, holding out the microphone. “What kept you going?” Ethan squeezed the hand of the woman beside him, his expression warm and gentle. “She did. My wife. She’s been by my side every step of the way, and she gave me this wonderful son — Noah.” Another wave of thunderous applause swept through the hall. I sat in that dark corner and bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. Noah. Seven years ago, I was five months pregnant. We were crammed into a studio apartment that barely fit the two of us, and we spent an entire week going back and forth before we settled on that name. He said, “Lily, when our baby comes, let’s name him Noah.” The baby didn’t make it. That day, I was hemorrhaging on the operating table. I called him over a dozen times. Every single call went straight to voicemail. Afterward, he knelt beside my hospital bed with red-rimmed eyes and slapped himself across the face again and again, saying he’d been locked in the lab running the most critical data tests of his career and had missed everything. He said, “Lily, let’s keep the name Noah. Save it for our next one.” I believed him. I believed him for seven years. I thought he was pouring his soul out for the sake of humanity. I thought he was carrying the weight of our future on his shoulders. Turns out, he was just draining me dry — so another woman could live in comfort and ease.

The awards ceremony ended. The crowd dispersed. I pulled on a baseball cap and a mask, slipped past the press, and made my way to the VIP lounge. I knew this hotel well. The venue fee for tonight had been charged to Ethan’s account last month, under the line item “laboratory space rental” — approved by me. The door to the lounge was slightly ajar. I pushed it open. Vivian was sitting at the vanity mirror, touching up her makeup. The boy named Noah was on the sofa, slamming a rare limited-edition Transformer toy against the cushions. At the sound of my entrance, Vivian glanced at me through the mirror and frowned slightly. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” She looked me up and down — faded jeans, plain black tee — and made no effort to hide her contempt. “I’m here for Ethan.” My voice came out rough. Years of high-intensity livestreaming had done a number on my vocal cords. Vivian turned around and let out a cold laugh. “Another desperate patient’s family member? Or some broke startup founder begging for funding?” She stood up, smoothed out her starfield gown, and walked over to me, looking down at me like I was beneath her notice. “Ethan is very busy. I manage his entire schedule. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” I looked at her — specifically at the massive pink diamond on her ring finger. It caught the overhead light and threw sharp, glittering sparks in every direction. Your husband? I slowly curled my hand into a fist, my nails pressing deep into my palm. “Of course,” Vivian said, arching an eyebrow, her tone drenched in self-satisfaction. “We’ve been married for five years. Our son is right there. Do you have a problem with that?” Five years. Ethan and I had been married for seven. For all seven of those years, he’d told the outside world he was single. He said medical research demanded total purity of focus — that investors would think he was distracted. He was also afraid that my identity as a “livestream shopping influencer” would drag down the image of his high-tech company. To protect his reputation, I had never once mentioned his name in public. Even my closest assistant thought I was just a single woman who worked herself to the bone. Standing there looking at Vivian, I suddenly started to laugh. The kind of laugh that brings tears to your eyes. “What’s so funny?” Vivian stiffened, her expression darkening. “I’m laughing at you,” I said. “You’ve been played for a fool, and you think you’re the lady of the house.” Vivian’s face changed. She swung her hand up to slap me. “Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that?!” I caught her wrist mid-air and shoved it away. She was wearing heels. She stumbled and nearly fell. “Mom!” The little boy dropped his toy and ran over, wrapping his arms around Vivian’s legs. At that moment, the door to the lounge was shoved open. “Vivian, the car’s ready, we should –” The words died in Ethan’s throat. He looked at me, standing in the middle of the room. Every trace of warmth and tenderness on his face vanished instantly, replaced by sheer, undisguised terror. “L-Lily?” Even his voice was shaking.

Vivian steadied herself and immediately switched to a wounded expression, throwing herself at Ethan. “Ethan! This crazy woman came out of nowhere and started screaming at me — and then she hit me!” Ethan went rigid. His eyes bounced between me and Vivian. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead in real time. “Ethan, get security to throw her out!” Vivian tugged at his sleeve, her voice syrupy. Ethan sucked in a slow breath, forced down the panic behind his eyes, and pushed Vivian away. “Vivian, take Noah to the parking garage and wait for me.” Vivian froze. “Ethan?” “Go. Now.” Ethan’s voice cracked like a whip, leaving no room for argument. She flinched. Shot me one last suspicious look. Then clenched her jaw, picked up the boy, and walked out. The door slammed shut behind her. Just the two of us now. The silence was total. Dead. Ethan looked at me. His throat moved. The panic bled out of his face, replaced by a look of weary resignation — the expression of a man burdened by circumstances beyond his control. He came toward me, reaching for my hand. “Lily. When did you get here? You should’ve texted me.” I stepped back. Kept my eyes on him, cold and steady. “If I hadn’t come, how would I have known that you’ve got a wife and a five-year-old son on the side?” Ethan sighed. Pressed two fingers to his temple. His tone took on that familiar flavor — patient, indulgent, the way you’d humor someone being unreasonable. “Lily, calm down. Let me explain.” “Her name is Vivian Cole. She was placed here by one of our major financial backers. You know how it is — we’re in the most capital-intensive phase of our Phase Three trials. There’s an overseas investment group willing to fund us, but they require one of their representatives embedded in the core management structure.” He held my gaze. Every word came out perfectly sincere. “To secure the funding, I had to play along. The boy was adopted — purely for optics. We needed the image of a stable, family-oriented man so the investors would feel confident putting money in.” I stared at his familiar face and felt a sudden, nauseating wave of revulsion rise in my stomach. There was a time when all it took was that look — weary eyes, quiet devotion — and I would soften. I would hand over every last dollar in my account without hesitation. “Playing along?” I let out a short, flat laugh. “Playing along means buying her a limited-edition designer gown? Playing along means buying her a pink diamond ring? Playing along means taking the name of my dead child — and giving it to someone else’s son?” Ethan’s expression flickered. But he recovered quickly. “Lily, those things were provided by the investors. I didn’t buy any of it. As for the name — that was a coincidence. Vivian insisted on it, and I had no choice but to go along for the sake of the bigger picture.” He stepped closer and gripped both my shoulders, his eyes pouring out a depth of feeling that should have been impossible to fake. “Lily, trust me. Everything I’m doing is for us. Once this drug hits the market, once I’ve made it — I’ll announce to the entire world that you, Lily Johnson, are the only woman I have ever married.” “Just give me a little more time. Please.” I looked at him and said nothing. If I hadn’t watched him kiss Vivian on that stage with the look of a man who had everything he’d ever wanted — If I hadn’t seen that boy’s face, and recognized Ethan’s features in every line of it — I might have believed him again. “Sure,” I said. The corners of my mouth pulled up into something that looked more like a wound than a smile. Ethan visibly exhaled with relief. “I knew it. You’ve always been the most understanding woman I know.” He moved to pull me into a hug. I put a hand against his chest and stepped back. “I’m tired. I’m going home.” I turned, opened the door, and walked out without looking back. Behind me, he didn’t follow. He probably assumed this was like every other time over the past seven years — that a few carefully chosen words had smoothed everything over. He didn’t know that the moment I turned away, the last of my tears had already dried. What was left wasn’t grief. It was the cold, bone-deep resolve of someone who has decided to burn it all down.

By the time I got back to my apartment, it was late. The place was empty, just like always. I’d paid for this penthouse in full. Ethan came by maybe once a month. He said the lab was too far away, that he kept a studio apartment near the office. I walked to the bar cart and poured a glass of whiskey. Drank it in one go. The burn traveled all the way down, but it didn’t touch the cold at the center of my chest. I picked up my phone and called my personal attorney, James. “James, I need you to pull everything you can on a woman named Vivian Cole. And I need a full financial audit — every dollar I’ve transferred to ‘Shaw Medical Technologies’ over the past seven years. Every transaction. I want it itemized down to the cent.” There was a brief pause on the other end. Then James’s voice sharpened with quiet understanding. “Ms. Johnson — are we closing the net?” “No,” I said, looking out at the city lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. My voice was flat as ice. “We’re going for the kill.” After I hung up, I opened my laptop and logged into a secondary account. I started searching Vivian Cole’s name across every social media platform I could think of. A woman like her — one who lived to show off — couldn’t possibly have left no trace online. I was right. It took almost no effort at all. Her verified account bio read: Lifestyle & Luxury Blogger | Wife of Shaw Medical Technologies CEO. Over a million followers. I scrolled through her feed. Page after page of obscene wealth dressed up as aesthetic living. Ethan’s five-year anniversary gift finally arrived after six months of waiting. Worth every second. The photo was the pink diamond I’d seen on her finger tonight. Posted three weeks ago. Three weeks ago, Ethan had told me there had been an incident in the clinical trials. He said they needed three hundred thousand dollars in hush money, or the company was finished. I’d stayed up all night running a flash sale livestream. By the end, my voice was completely gone. I spent three days on an IV drip at the hospital. Noah’s 5th birthday! Ethan chartered a whole yacht just for our little man. Best childhood memories incoming. The photo showed Ethan holding the boy on the deck of a luxury yacht, grinning like the happiest man alive. Posted two months ago. Two months ago was the anniversary of my miscarriage. I spent that entire day sitting alone at a memorial park. Ethan sent a message saying he was locked in the lab and couldn’t get away. Another day of being absolutely spoiled. Just picked up our new ocean-view villa — going to use it as my art studio. The photo showed a standalone house in the most expensive coastal neighborhood in the city, valued at no less than five million dollars. Posted one year ago. One year ago, Ethan knelt in front of me, crying, saying the company’s cash flow had collapsed and he wanted to jump off a building. I sold off majority stakes in my two most profitable beauty brands at a steep loss. I liquidated five million dollars in assets to bail him out. I went through the photos one by one. Every glittering image, every breezy caption. Behind each one was a night I’d stayed up past dawn. Blood I’d coughed into a sink. Pain I’d swallowed and kept moving through. I thought I was funding a dream that would matter. I was feeding two parasites. I screenshotted everything, packaged it all up, and sent it to James. Then I went to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. The woman looking back at me was pale from chronic sleep deprivation. Dark circles carved into the skin under her eyes. I turned on the tap and splashed cold water on my face. Lily Johnson. You really are something else. But it’s fine. Starting right now, I’m taking back everything that’s mine. Every single cent, with interest.

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I spent seven years with Ethan Cole. He was firm about it — no marriage, no kids. That was just who he was. I believed him. Three months ago, I got pregnant. Then I lost the baby. Alone in a hospital room, after what they called an “accident.” Until today. I went with my best friend Lily to a high-end immersive parenting experience — one of those events for expectant couples. She was the pregnant one, not me. On the stage, the host smiled and announced: “Please welcome the husband of Ms. Joanna Quinn to come up and experience labor contractions!” The next second. A man stood up, smiling, and walked onto the stage. It was my boyfriend. Ethan Cole. The electrode pads had him sweating through his shirt, but he held another woman’s hand tight the whole time. His voice was so tender it could melt: “Don’t be scared. I’ll go through the pain first so I’ll know how to take care of you.” That was the moment I understood. It wasn’t that he didn’t want children. He just didn’t want mine.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise, Ms. Smith.” Joanna Quinn spotted me before Ethan did. She was wearing a loose maternity dress, holding a warm cup of milk, her face soft with the kind of glow that only comes from being truly loved. My best friend Lily followed her gaze and her expression darkened instantly. “Ethan, when exactly did you sneak off and become someone else’s personal support system behind our girl Mia’s back?” Ethan had been crouched down, gently dabbing the cold sweat from Joanna’s forehead. He paused at the sound of Lily’s voice and looked up. The moment he saw me, a flash of shock crossed his eyes. His brow tightened — barely visible, but I caught it. As if my being there had interrupted something precious he’d carefully put together. “Joanna’s fiancé is abroad and couldn’t make it. She would’ve been here alone. I just came as a friend, to keep her company for a bit.” As he said it, he reached over and took the empty cup from Joanna’s hand with practiced ease, passing it off to a nearby staff member. His tone was completely flat. Like he was explaining away something trivial. But I kept my eyes locked on the veins standing out on the back of his hand — still raised from the level-ten contraction simulation he’d just put himself through. “Just keeping her company?” I stepped forward. My voice was steady in a way that surprised even me. “Keeping her company means taking a level-ten contraction for her? Standing up in front of everyone and letting them call you her husband?” Ethan’s brow furrowed deeper. That familiar edge of irritation crept into his voice. “Mia, can you stop being so sensitive? Joanna is pregnant — her emotions are already unstable. I just didn’t want her to feel embarrassed in front of everyone.” There it was again. Stop being sensitive. Stop overthinking. Stop making a scene. Three months ago, I was curled up in the hallway outside the maternity ward at St. Mary’s Medical Center, shaking so hard I could barely breathe. I called him ten times. From hopeful, all the way to numb. What I got back was a single cold text on Snapchat: [I told you — the company’s IPO is at a critical stage. Don’t interrupt me.] [If the baby’s gone, it’s gone.] That day, the doctor stood in front of me with a surgical consent form, looking at my pale face with the kind of eyes that meant he’d seen this before. “No family member coming? General anesthesia carries risk when the patient signs alone.” I bit down on my already-bleeding lip and signed my name, one stroke at a time. I walked into that operating room alone. I came out of it alone. I woke up to an empty room and lay there, alone. He never once asked if I was okay. And now — now he was willing to strap himself into that chair and endure pain most people can’t handle, all so another woman wouldn’t feel embarrassed. Joanna reached over and gently tugged at the hem of Ethan’s jacket. Her eyes went red in seconds, her voice small and shaky: “Mia, please don’t blame Ethan. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let myself lean on him like this. If it bothers you, I’ll never contact him again, I promise…” Lily let out a sharp laugh that had nothing funny in it. She pointed straight at Joanna. “You’re lonely and pregnant, go find your fiancé who’s supposedly abroad! What kind of person goes and borrows someone else’s boyfriend to play house with? What is wrong with you?” Joanna’s tears spilled over, one after another, and she swayed like she might actually fall. Ethan stepped forward almost before she’d started leaning, putting himself squarely between her and the world. He turned to Lily, and his eyes went cold. “Lily, watch your mouth. Joanna isn’t well. She can’t handle this right now.” I stared at his arm — that arm positioned in front of her like a shield — and felt something twist in my stomach. Ridiculous. The whole thing was ridiculous. A staff member chose that moment to walk over, holding a framed certificate and looking visibly uncomfortable. “Um… Ms. Quinn? This is your commemorative completion certificate — yours and your… partner’s. Please hold onto it.” The certificate had two names printed on it in clean, official lettering: Joanna Quinn. Ethan Cole. Ethan didn’t say a word to correct it. He took the certificate, folded it carefully, and slid it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Then he turned to me. His tone softened just slightly — the way someone softens their voice when they think they’re being generous. “Mia, once the event’s over, I’ll come home and explain everything tonight. Go with Lily for now. Don’t make a big deal out of this.” Don’t make a big deal out of this. In his eyes, the simple fact of me standing in front of him was already “making something bigger.” I didn’t cry. I didn’t do what I’d done so many times over the past seven years — stand there with red eyes, waiting for him to come around and soften. I just looked at him. Then I let one corner of my mouth pull into the faintest, coldest smile. “Sure. You two enjoy the rest of it.” I turned and walked away without hesitating. Ethan stood there, frozen. He clearly hadn’t expected me to let it go that easily. For seven years, I was always the one who fell apart over the smallest sign of his coldness. But I didn’t have anything left to fall apart with. In that moment, something in me finally came fully awake. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to be a good partner. He just never wanted to be one. Not for me.

The drive back was suffocating. Lily gripped the steering wheel and let it all out. “Has Ethan completely lost his mind? He ghosts you during a miscarriage, won’t even show up, and now he’s playing devoted daddy-to-be for someone else’s kid?” “Mia, if you forgive him this time, I swear to God I’m done with you.” I leaned my head against the passenger window and watched the city blur past. My eyes felt hollow. My phone buzzed in my bag. A Snapchat from Ethan. [Joanna got a little shaken up after what Lily said. Her doctor wants to monitor her. I’m taking her in to get checked.] [What do you want for dinner? I’ll grab it on my way home.] I stared at the words. She got shaken up. Something cold wrapped itself around my chest and squeezed. Three months ago, I came out of surgery barely able to walk a straight line. I messaged him. Told him I was in so much pain. He wrote back: [It was a minor procedure. Stop being so dramatic. I’m in a meeting.] So. Someone else’s baby catching a scare was a crisis worth dropping everything for. But me losing a life — that was just me being dramatic. I turned the screen off and dropped the phone back in my bag. “Lily.” I closed my eyes. My voice came out barely above a whisper. “I’m not forgiving him. Not this time. Not ever.” Lily hit the brakes hard enough to jolt us both. She turned and stared at me, eyes already going red. “Mia. God. You should’ve done this so much sooner. Do you have any idea how much you’ve given up for him? Seven years. Your whole twenties. You put your career on the line for him. And he treated you like — ” Seven years. I was twenty-one when I moved into that basement apartment with Ethan. It was barely four hundred square feet and always smelled like damp concrete, but we were in it together, and I didn’t care. His startup was hemorrhaging money. He had no way out. I went behind his back and sold the one thing I had — a vintage cello my grandfather had left me. Irreplaceable. Gone. The money, half a million dollars, went straight into his account. That night he held me and sobbed like a kid. He promised me. He said he would spend the rest of his life making me the happiest woman in the world. Then he made it. The Cole Group became a name people recognized. He became exactly what everyone wanted him to be — young, successful, the kind of man who gets featured in magazines. And he got busier. And more distant. And came home less and less. He said he didn’t want marriage. I said okay, I’ll wait. He said he didn’t want kids, said it would be too much of a distraction. I said okay. Then three months ago, the pregnancy happened. I thought it was a gift. I actually went out and bought a pair of baby shoes — tiny things with little bunny ears on them — and hid them in the back of my closet. I kept imagining the look on his face when I finally showed them to him. Instead, reality hit me harder than anything I’d ever felt. That evening, I came home to the penthouse apartment Ethan and I shared. I pushed open the door to find the crystal chandelier blazing in the living room. Joanna Quinn was stretched out on the sofa, covered with Ethan’s favorite cashmere throw. The coffee table was covered in washed fruit. Right in the center — a plate of sliced kiwi. I’m severely allergic to kiwi. Even being in the same room as it is enough to make my skin break out in hives. In bad cases, it affects my breathing. Ethan was in his home clothes, coming out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee. He saw me standing in the entryway and stumbled slightly. Something flickered across his face. Like he’d been caught off guard by his own life. “You’re back.” I didn’t take off my shoes. I looked past him, straight at Joanna. “Why is she here?” Joanna sat up immediately, like a startled rabbit. Her eyes filled instantly, and she looked at me with that particular brand of fragile helplessness. “Mia, please don’t misunderstand. I went for a checkup today and the doctor said the pregnancy is unstable — I need to rest. I was scared to be alone. Ethan offered to let me stay here for a few days, just until things settle…” Ethan set the milk down on the coffee table and turned to me with a look that said he’d already decided how this conversation was going to go. “Joanna’s situation is serious. She doesn’t know anyone in this city. As a friend, I can’t just leave her on her own. This place has four bedrooms — she’ll be in the guest room. It won’t affect you.” I stared at him. The sheer nerve of it almost made me laugh. “As a friend, you have a responsibility? Ethan, did you forget — this is my home. You brought a pregnant woman into our home. Did you think to ask me first?” His expression hardened. “Mia, do you have to be so aggressive about everything? She’s just staying for a few days. Why do you have to make it a thing?” “Just staying.” I walked toward him slowly, and pointed at the kiwi on the coffee table. “You let her eat kiwi in here. You know what happens to me if I even get near that.” Something shifted in his eyes. He looked at the plate. “I… forgot. Joanna said she was craving something sour, so I just picked it up without thinking.” Forgot. Seven years together. And my most dangerous allergy was something he could just forget. Joanna scrambled up from the sofa, flustered. “I’m so sorry, Mia — I had no idea you were allergic. Let me get rid of it right now…” She reached for the plate, and then her legs buckled. She started to go down. “Watch out!” Ethan crossed the room in an instant and caught her, pulling her against his chest. The reflex was too smooth. Too practiced. He turned and looked at me like I was the one who’d done something wrong. “Mia, enough. Are you trying to actually hurt her?” I watched them — his arms around her, her face against his shoulder — and felt my stomach turn. I was done talking. I walked into the bedroom and dragged out the suitcase I’d already half-packed. Ethan followed me in and grabbed the case. “What are you doing?” “Leaving.” I pulled his hand off the handle. My voice was completely flat. He looked at me like I was speaking another language. “Because I let Joanna stay for a few days? Mia, when did you get this petty?” I stuffed the last few things in, zipped the bag shut, and stood up. “It’s not about her.” I looked at him straight on. “Ethan. It’s about seven years. It’s about finally realizing that the man I fell in love with doesn’t actually have a heart.” He went still. Like something in my expression actually reached him. “What does that mean?” “Exactly what it sounds like.” I grabbed the handle. “We’re done.”

Ethan’s first reaction wasn’t to ask me to stay. It was anger. He thought I was pulling the same move I’d always pulled — threatening to leave as a way to get his attention, the same small-scale back-and-forth we’d fallen into so many times before. “Are you serious right now? You think breaking up is some kind of leverage?” He was practically grinding his teeth, his eyes sharp and cold. “What is this, Mia?” I reached into my bag, pulled out my key to the apartment, and set it down on the nightstand. “It’s not leverage. It’s just what’s happening.” I didn’t look at him again. I wheeled the suitcase out. Joanna was standing in the living room. She watched me pull the case toward the door. Something crossed her face — gone almost as quickly as it appeared — and then she was back to performing concern. “Mia, please don’t do anything rash. This is all my fault. I’ll leave right now. Please don’t fight with Ethan because of me…” Ethan grabbed her wrist before she could move, pulling her back toward the couch. “Sit down. She wants to leave, let her leave. Let’s see how far she gets.” He raised his voice at my back: “Mia, if you walk out that door, don’t even think about coming back.” I kept walking. I didn’t turn around. The door shut behind me with a heavy sound — and with it, seven years of my own foolishness. That night, I stayed at Lily’s place. Lily looked at my face — totally still, no tears, nothing — and started crying herself. “Mia, you can cry. Seriously. You don’t have to hold it all in.” I shook my head and leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I’m not sad, Lily. I’m just tired. It’s like I’ve been carrying something incredibly heavy for seven years and I finally put it down. Honestly? I feel lighter.” The next morning, I went to St. Mary’s Medical Center to pick up my post-op report from three months ago. My regular doctor was out, so I was sent to a different exam room. The nurse searched my file on her computer. She took a while, and her expression started to pinch. “Ms. Smith, it looks like your folder was misfiled. Give me a moment — let me check the VIP prenatal suite next door.” A few minutes later she came back with a manila envelope and handed it to me. “Found it. So sorry about that. Oh — there’s also a consent form from three months ago that got mixed in with yours by mistake. It has a Mr. Cole’s signature on it. You can pass it along to him.” I stopped. “Which Mr. Cole?” She pointed to the form. “Ethan Cole. He came in three months ago with a Ms. Joanna Quinn to complete her VIP prenatal registration. This form was left behind. The front desk was slammed that day and it accidentally got filed with your records.” The world went silent. I looked down at the thin sheet of paper in my hands. VIP Prenatal Registration and Informed Consent Registration Date: Three months ago. Thursday. 10:30 a.m. That was the exact same time I was alone in the hallway outside the OR, shaking, calling him ten times, begging him to come. He hadn’t answered. He’d texted me that he was in a meeting. That I needed to stop bothering him. But he wasn’t in a meeting. He was in another building of the same hospital, standing next to another woman, reserving her a premium delivery suite for their baby. I looked down to the bottom of the page. Family member signature: Ethan Cole. And next to the signature, in small printed text: Relationship to patient: Fiancé. “Fiancé…” The word came out of me like I was reading something in another language. A cold so deep it felt physical moved through me from the floor up. The nurse was still talking beside me, her voice warm and cheerful: “Mr. Cole was so attentive that day — running around taking care of everything, making sure Ms. Quinn didn’t have to lift a finger. Our whole unit was talking about it.” I don’t remember walking out of the hospital. The sun outside was brutal. It should have been warm. I couldn’t feel it. This was the truth I’d been standing next to the whole time. He was never anti-marriage. He just didn’t want to marry me. He was never against having kids. He just didn’t want mine. While I was in the most pain I’d ever been in — alone, losing our baby — he was in the same building, practically glowing, checking in his pregnant girlfriend and signing his name as her fiancé. Seven years. I spent seven years warming up a stone, only to find out someone else had already carved it into exactly what they wanted.

I didn’t go back to Lily’s. I went straight to work — to my company, Bloom Early Learning. I’d built it from nothing two years ago. Every part of it was mine. My assistant, Sophie, nearly jumped when I walked through the lobby. “Ms. Smith — you look really pale. Do you want to sit down for a bit?” “I’m fine.” I walked past her and into my office. I locked the prenatal consent form in my desk drawer, took a slow breath, and steadied myself. “Call all the department heads. Meeting in ten minutes. And the co-branded curriculum project with Cole Group — shut it down. Effective immediately.” Sophie’s jaw dropped. “Ms. Smith, Cole Group has already put significant marketing resources behind that launch. If we pull out now, we’ll owe them a substantial termination fee.” “I’ll cover it personally. Pull everything — any promotional material with the Cole Group logo, I want it gone.” She didn’t push further. She hurried out. At three in the afternoon, Ethan kicked open my office door. He didn’t knock. His tie was half-undone, his expression wild. “Have you completely lost it?! Who gave you the right to unilaterally cancel the project? Do you have any idea what this does to Cole Group?” I didn’t look up from the document in front of me. “Mr. Cole. Watch your tone. This is my office. I don’t owe you an explanation for my business decisions.” He crossed the room in a few strides and slammed both palms down on my desk, looming over me. “What is this really about? Because I had Joanna stay over, you’re going to tank a business deal? Since when do you mix personal feelings with professional responsibilities?” I set down my pen. I looked up at him. “Mixing personal and professional?” I almost smiled. I reached into the desk drawer, took out the VIP prenatal consent form, and threw it at his face. “Tell me something, Ethan. When you signed ‘fiancé’ on that form — were you thinking about professional boundaries then?” The paper caught the edge of his cheek and drifted to the floor. He looked down at it. The color drained out of his face. The anger in his eyes cracked, and underneath it was something raw and cornered. “How did you — where did you get this?” “Surprised?” I stood up and faced him across the desk, my voice like something frozen solid. “Three months ago, I was in the OR in this same hospital, losing a pregnancy due to an accident. You didn’t even show up because of your IPO. While I was in there alone, you were one building over, registering Joanna for a VIP delivery suite. Ethan. Your time management is really something.” His throat moved. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t steady. “Mia, listen to me. That day — Joanna had a cramp, I was scared something was wrong, I drove her in. The signature was just to get through the paperwork faster. It didn’t mean anything — ” “It didn’t mean anything.” I cut him off. “Then explain this to me. You didn’t come to the hospital during my miscarriage because of the IPO. But somehow Joanna’s pregnancy doesn’t affect the IPO at all?” He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. The office door opened. Joanna walked in, wearing a designer maternity outfit, one hand pressed to her lower back. She looked down at the form on the floor. Her eyes shifted — just for a second. Then she rearranged her face into something soft and devastated. “Mia, please don’t be angry at Ethan. This is all on me. I was the one who asked him to come. And the fiancé thing — I begged him to write that because I was embarrassed about being unmarried and pregnant…” She drifted toward Ethan and caught his sleeve. Tears were already running down her face. “Ethan, please don’t fight with Mia because of me. If my being here causes this much pain for everyone, I’d rather just take my baby and disappear…” Ethan closed his hand around her arm, his face tightening with alarm. “Don’t you dare say that.” I watched them. I felt sick. I took out my phone. I pulled up a screenshot, zoomed in, and turned the screen toward them. “Joanna. Since you’re so reasonable and understanding — explain this. Three months ago, someone sent me this from an anonymous number.” The screen showed a text message: [Don’t blame Ethan for being cold, Ms. Smith. It’s not that he doesn’t like kids. He just doesn’t want to be tied down to you through one.] [My baby is different. He actually cares. He stayed up all night arranging the best doctors for me.] The moment Joanna saw it, she went white. Her whole body flinched. “That — that’s not from me. I don’t know anything about that.” I let out a short, cold laugh. “Really. Should I contact the carrier and pull the registration on that number?” Joanna’s lips were shaking. She couldn’t get a single word out. Ethan looked at the screenshot, then looked at Joanna. For the first time, something uncertain moved through his eyes. “Joanna. Did you actually send this?” “No — Ethan, I swear, it wasn’t me, please believe me — ” She was shaking her head over and over, face a mess of tears. I was already done watching. I pressed the intercom on my desk. “Security. Please come up and escort two visitors out of my office. If they refuse to leave, call the police.” Ethan stared at me. The look on his face was complicated in a way I didn’t have the energy to decode. “Mia. Are you really going to take it this far?” “You’re the one who took it this far, Ethan.” I pointed to the door. “Take your fiancée and get out of my building. After today, the only place I want to see you is in a courtroom.”

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To help my boyfriend pay off his loans, I spent two years shampooing hair at a salon. Christine, who requested me every single day, couldn’t understand it: “Lora, why don’t you find someone like my boyfriend? He’s incredibly generous with money — gives me at least five million a month as pocket change. “Though he has a bit of a twisted streak. He likes to play poor outside and mess around with naive girls. I heard some idiot was working herself to death supporting him, ended up in the hospital multiple times.” I turned to reach for the shampoo. “My boyfriend may not be rich, but he’s loyal. He really loves me.” Just then, a luxury car pulled up outside the salon. A man dressed head to toe in designer brands pushed the door open with a frown. “Christine, why are you getting your hair done at a dump like this again? The people here are unsanitary — don’t let them give you some kind of disease.” “Did you get the two million I transferred to your card?” My body went rigid. I didn’t dare turn around. The man’s voice was identical to my boyfriend’s — the one with two hundred thousand dollars in loans hanging over his head.

The cheerful click of heels sounded behind me. Christine fluttered over like a butterfly. “Got it! Why so much today? You just bought me a necklace yesterday.” Carter’s voice was warm. “I couldn’t be with you last night. Consider it an apology — one necklace isn’t nearly enough.” I stood frozen, my back to both of them. Last night, my arm had been in searing pain. I’d begged Carter for a long time before he finally agreed to take me to the hospital. Christine noticed I hadn’t moved and tilted her head. “Lora? Why aren’t you doing anything? My hair isn’t finished yet.” I took a deep breath. My voice came out a little unsteady. “Sorry… just a little dizzy. Low blood sugar. I’ll be fine in a second.” Carter’s tone turned cold. “What’s the point of an employee like this?” “I’ll tell the manager to fire her.” Christine laughed it off. “Oh, babe, don’t be so hard on her. She’s got a leech of a boyfriend draining her dry. She’s pathetic enough as it is.” The shampoo bottle slipped from my hands and hit the floor. Foam splattered everywhere. The man behind me went suddenly quiet. A pair of expensive leather shoes appeared at the edge of my vision. They stopped for two seconds. Carter said, “Go wait in the car. I need to talk to the owner.” Christine pouted. “Why? I haven’t finished my hair yet.” “Be good. I’ll have the driver pick up those pastries you love.” That was enough to get her moving. “Fine, but be quick,” she said, and walked out. The sound of her heels faded. The shop door closed. Carter stood behind me, his voice low. “Lora.” I crouched on the floor and didn’t move. “Why are you here?” I slowly stood up and turned around. Carter was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit. On his wrist was that limited-edition watch I’d only ever seen in magazines. He looked completely out of place in this run-down little salon. His eyes were cold. “Didn’t you tell me you worked in an office building?” “So every day when you came home from work, you were coming back from a place like this?” He stepped back, as if I actually had some kind of contagious disease. I opened my mouth. The explanation I wanted to give lodged in my throat. Right. I had lied to him. But why? Because of his two hundred thousand in loans — the monthly payment hanging over our heads like a blade. Because every time he noticed the calluses on my hands, he’d say with such tenderness, “Lora, once I make it, you won’t have to work this hard.” I didn’t want him to know I was washing people’s hair. I didn’t want him to feel like he was dragging me down. Suddenly I found it all very funny. For two years, I’d spent over twelve hours a day on my feet. My fingers were waterlogged and peeling. I’d developed cervical problems, tendinitis, low blood sugar — I’d been hospitalized more times than I could count. And he could casually wire two million dollars to another woman without a second thought. The shop door cracked open. Christine stuck her head in. “Honey, are you done? The pastries are here — they’re going to melt if you don’t hurry.” Carter glanced at me and lowered his voice. “Don’t say a word about today.” The door closed. I stood alone in the empty salon, staring at the puddle of shampoo foam on the floor. For a long time. My phone buzzed. A message from my manager: “Lora, you’re fired. A customer just complained about your service. Your entire paycheck will be withheld to cover the damages.” “Don’t blame me. These people have money and connections. Pack up your things and go now.” I stared at the screen. I couldn’t find a single word to say. Outside the window, the black luxury car slowly pulled away. The window was half down. I could see Christine leaning on his shoulder, and him bending down to press a kiss to her forehead. That kiss looked exactly like the ones he used to give me.

By the time I walked out of the salon, it was dark. The bank sent a payment reminder. Next week: two thousand dollars. My paycheck would have barely covered it. But now, I had less than five hundred in my account. I went home. Carter was standing at my door, holding a bag of fresh mangosteen — the kind I’d never let myself buy. “Lora, you shouldn’t be angry with me. I did it for your own good.” I stepped around him and kept my head down. He sighed. “I know I’ve let you down. These two years have been hard on you. But if you just trust me, I’ll find you a decent job. Somewhere clean and respectable. You won’t have to wash anyone’s hair ever again.” Memories flickered past like a slideshow. My back aching after twelve hours on my feet every day. A strain that never healed. The day I collapsed and couldn’t get up off the floor, the only thing running through my mind was: I can’t afford to be hurt. If something happens to me, Carter is finished. “Lora, I love you. Why else would I leave Christine to come find you? Isn’t that enough?” “You need to understand my situation. I wasn’t trying to deceive you. If you had my status and my position in this world, you would’ve kept it hidden too. Think about it — if I’d told you from the start that I was the CEO of the Carter Group, would you have treated me the same way? You would’ve been after my money and my name.” He said all of this with complete sincerity. As if he had spent two years lying to me, and somehow that was my fault. He held out a business card. A company address. “Come find me here tomorrow.” My tears were pooling at the edges of my eyes. I bit down hard on my lip and held them in. The next day, I went anyway. I knew how wrong it was. I knew what kind of person he was. But I’d borrowed two hundred thousand dollars to pay off his debts. If he walked away, I had no way to repay it. The loan sharks had made it clear: if I couldn’t pay, they’d take something else instead. I didn’t let myself think about what that meant. The Carter Group. The most impressive office tower in the city center. Twelfth floor. Human Resources. A middle-aged woman in glasses looked me up and down. “Lora?” She pushed her frames up and her voice came out with an unmistakable edge of contempt. “Mr. Carter already briefed us. We’re placing you in a janitorial position. Here’s your badge. Report at seven tomorrow morning. You’ll be responsible for floors eighteen through twenty.” Janitorial. I thought I’d heard her wrong. “He said… janitorial?” “What, too good for it?” The woman gave a short, cold laugh. “No degree, no skills. You should be grateful we’re giving you anything at all. Mr. Carter specifically requested this for you. Otherwise, do you think we’d just take anyone off the street?” I gripped the badge so hard my nails pressed into the plastic. First day on the job. I showed up in a cleaning uniform, pushing a supply cart down the hallway, mopping the floor. When I passed the elevators, the doors opened. Christine stepped out on Carter’s arm — designer everything, ten-centimeter heels. She spotted me and blinked. “Lora? What are you doing here?” She turned to Carter. “You got her a job?” Carter’s face was unreadable. “You kept saying you felt bad for her. Janitorial is all she qualifies for.” That afternoon, I was assigned to clean Carter’s office. I followed behind with my cart. His office was on the top floor — floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the entire city. When I pushed the door open, what I saw nearly made me sick. Christine was lounging on the couch with her legs crossed. “Sorry to bother you, Lora. Be a dear and clean up for us.” Carter sat behind his desk and didn’t even look up. I got down on my knees and started wiping the floor with a cloth. The things I was wiping up clung to the rag. My eyes burned. I was his girlfriend. How could he make me clean up after him and another woman? Christine suddenly spoke. “Carter, maybe give her a better position? Janitorial feels a little…” “She can’t do anything.” Carter’s voice was flat. “She’s barely fit to sweep floors. Giving her this job was already more than enough.” His words hit like something sharp driven straight into my chest. I kept my head down, finished the last section of floor, and walked out with my cart. The moment the door closed behind me, my tears finally broke loose.

It was almost the end of my shift. I was still cleaning the hallway windows. Christine appeared behind me. “Lora, did you see my gold bracelet anywhere?” I turned around. Her wrist was bare. “No. I haven’t seen it.” “That’s strange, it was just here.” She frowned. “Carter gave me that bracelet. It’s really important to me.” She started searching the hallway — checked the trash bin, looked through the break room. Nothing. Then she looked at me. “Lora, let me see your bag.” I stiffened. “What?” “I think you stole my bracelet.” “I didn’t!” I felt a rush of panic. “I’ve been washing windows the whole time. I never went anywhere near you.” “Then show me your bag. If you didn’t take it, I’ll apologize.” I had nothing to hide. I opened my bag and held it out. She rummaged through it. From the innermost pocket, she pulled out a gold bracelet. “That’s—” My eyes went wide. “That’s impossible. I never touched that.” Christine held the bracelet and her eyes went red. “Lora, how could you steal from me? Carter gave me this. It means everything to me.” “I didn’t! I really didn’t!” My mind was racing, and then a detail came back to me. “You picked up my bag earlier — at the elevator. You said my hands were full with the cart and you’d carry it for me. You must have put it in there then and forgotten.” Christine tilted her head with wide, innocent eyes. “When did I ever carry your bag?” “At lunch—” “Lora.” She cut me off. Her tone changed. It went cold. “I never touched your bag. Are you sure you’re not confused?” A chill moved through my whole body. Carter walked out of his office and saw Christine’s red-rimmed eyes. His expression darkened. “What happened?” “My bracelet…” Christine held it up. “Found in Lora’s bag.” Carter looked at me. His eyes were like ice. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t steal anything. She—” I pointed at Christine. My voice was shaking. “That’s enough.” Carter took out his phone. “I’m calling the police.” Christine grabbed his arm. “Don’t call the police, Carter. She’s so young. A record would ruin her.” He frowned. Christine thought it over and said: “Then… make her kneel outside the building. It’s busy out there. Until the end of the workday should be enough.” The blood rushed straight to my head. “What did you just say?” Christine blinked at me with that same guileless look. “I just want you to learn your lesson. So you don’t steal again.” “I didn’t steal anything!” I was almost shouting now. The tears finally came. “Carter, I’m your girlfriend. How can you do this to me?” The entire hallway went still. Christine’s eyes went wide. She looked at me, then at Carter. “Girlfriend?” Her voice jumped up an octave. “Carter, she’s saying she’s your girlfriend?” The expression on Carter’s face shifted several times. “She’s lying.” “Lora, there is nothing between us. You stole. You’re fired.” He took out his phone and dialed. “It’s me. I need you to put the word out across the industry. Lora — nobody hires her. Nobody.” Then he looked at me. “Go kneel outside until nine tonight. Otherwise, the consequences will be a lot worse than this.” Christine put on a heartbroken expression. “Lora, I thought of you as a friend. How could you do this to me? You’ve really, truly let me down.”

It was raining when I knelt outside the building. People walked past. Some looked with pity. Some with amusement. Some stopped to take pictures for their Instagram. My knees pressed against the cold marble. My wet pants clung to my skin, cold enough to sting. But the pain in my knees was nothing compared to what was happening inside my chest. Carter came through the glass doors with a black umbrella. Christine walked beside him. He saw me kneeling there. One look — and then he turned away fast, like holding his gaze on me even a second longer would somehow dirty his eyes. The rain got heavier. Nine o’clock finally came. I pushed myself up against the wall. My knees had gone numb. My calves were swollen and bruised. I made my way home one step at a time. Three kilometers. It took me an hour and a half. I collapsed onto the floor, soaked through. Carter’s calls came one after another. I never picked up. He kept calling. Third call. Fourth. Fifth. What could he possibly have to say to me? I didn’t want to hear it. I was afraid to hear it. I switched my phone to silent and tossed it aside. About fifteen minutes later, it buzzed. A text. From Carter: Two hundred thousand. I’ll have someone deliver it tomorrow. We’re done. We’re done. I stared at those two words on the screen. I wanted to cry but couldn’t. What gave him the right to call us done? But I had no energy left to fight it. I really had nothing left. The next morning, someone knocked on my door. I thought it was the money Carter had promised. I opened it. It was Christine. She was wearing a cream-colored trench coat, a sleek leather case in her hand, smiling at me brightly. “Morning, Lora.” I watched her carefully. “What do you want?” She let herself in without being asked, looked around my small, worn-out apartment, and made a little sound of disdain. “A place like this. How sad.” “What do you want?” She turned around, set the case on the table, and opened it. Inside were stacks of cash. “Two hundred thousand, from Carter. He asked me to bring it.” She smiled. “Except I told him you already received it.” I froze. “And then I told him you took the money straight to a casino and lost every cent.” Her smile widened. “Carter absolutely despises gamblers. Right now, he thinks you’re disgusting. Isn’t that hilarious?” Everything fell into place. “You—” “I’ve known about you for a long time,” she said, cutting me off, casually examining her freshly done nails. “I knew from the beginning that Carter was playing broke and dating you. Did you think you were keeping a secret? I knew everything.” “I just didn’t want him staying connected to you. So I took care of it. Pretty clever plan, right?” My whole body was trembling. I grabbed my phone and called Carter. He answered. “Lora.” His voice was as cold and hard as stone in a freezer. “I never thought you were a gambler. Gamblers are the one thing I can’t stand. Good thing I hid who I was — otherwise a woman like you would’ve drained everything I had.” “Carter, I never gambled!” “Don’t bother explaining.” He cut me off. “You took the money. You lost it yourself. There’s nothing left between us.” “Don’t call me again.” Click. I called back. It didn’t go through. He’d blocked me. Christine clapped her hands together lightly and called toward the door. “Come in.” Several men filed into the room. My stomach dropped. The loan sharks. The one in front looked me over with a slow, ugly smile. “Since you can’t pay the money, you’ll just have to pay another way. Don’t worry. We’ll be gentle.” I backed into the corner. I was shaking. They moved toward me. I fought. I screamed. Then my phone rang. Christine bent down and picked it up off the floor. “Oh, it’s Carter calling. But you’re a little busy right now. What a shame.” She hit accept and set the phone on the table. Speakerphone. One of the men grabbed me deliberately hard. I couldn’t stop the cry that tore out of me. The man in front laughed. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. We’ll take good care of you.” On the other end of the line, Carter’s breath caught. “Lora, you really are something. I actually feel sorry I ever knew you. Any man will do, huh?” The call ended. He would never speak to me again. I knew it. “See? Now he really is disgusted by you.” My tears had run dry. The men in the floral shirts and their friends went about their business. I don’t know how long it lasted. An hour. Two hours. Maybe an entire day. All I know is that eventually they were gone. The room was destroyed. My body was covered in wounds. Blood everywhere. I lay on the cold floor and stared at the crack in the ceiling. It ran from the corner of the wall all the way to the light fixture, like a dried-up riverbed. I thought about two years ago, the day I first moved into this apartment. Carter had come to help me move in. He looked at that crack in the ceiling and said, “What a dump. Once I start making real money, I’ll buy you a proper place.” I slowly got up and walked to the window. It was open. The wind came in cool and easy. I looked down. Eighteenth floor. That would be enough. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. The wind roared past my ears. And then there was nothing. “Carter. Now we really are done.”

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The night before her engagement, my twin sister Jinx climbed out the window and ran. The newborn twins — barely out of the incubator — were dumped into my bed. My dad, Steve, planted himself in the doorway. “These babies belong to mob boss Ethan Holt. You’re going to marry him in your sister’s place. Refuse, and this whole family dies.” I didn’t say a word. I took a high-res photo of one baby’s birthmark and posted it online. Newborn twins. $50. Free shipping. An hour later, someone kicked my front door clean off its hinges. Three ridiculously good-looking men stormed in, and all three of them locked their eyes on me. “Where is my child?” Steve’s legs gave out. He dropped to his knees with a thud. “These kids have nothing to do with me!” He jabbed a finger at the twins in the crib. “Jinx is the one who was sleeping around out there. Go find her!” I watched him with cold eyes and reached over to adjust the windshield on the crib. I recognized one of the men. Nate Cole — movie star. Nate spoke first. “Where’s Jinx? She posted my ultrasound on Instagram and then vanished. What, does she think I’m dead?” Standing beside Nate was billionaire Ryan Lux. Ryan kicked a broken plastic stool out of the way, pulled out his phone, and shoved the screen in Nate’s face. “Mr. Cole. Check the date. When Jinx posted that ultrasound, she was on my yacht with me.” Nate stared at the screen. His face went pale. “Enough.” Ethan Holt — the mob boss — pushed between them and walked to the crib. He was holding a shipping receipt from a local delivery app. Printed on it was a photo of the red birthmark on the back of the baby’s neck. “You two got played. The birthmark Jinx sent me? Only someone from the Holt bloodline carries that mark.” Nate and Ryan both went still. They stared at the two babies in the crib. I reached into my pocket and set a payment QR code on the table. Then I pulled open the drawer and took out three medical tweezers, placing them on the table one by one. “Line up.” I tapped the table. “Three hairs each. With the follicles attached.” Nate pointed a finger in my face. “Who the hell are you to order me around?” “Rush processing fee is two thousand. Out of pocket.” I didn’t look up. “Don’t want to do it? Then get out.” Ryan stepped forward and stared at my face — the same face as Jinx. “You think just because you look like her, I won’t touch you?” He raised his hand to flip the table. “You all spent serious money tracking this birthmark down. You came all the way here for one reason — a paternity test.” I slid the tweezers forward. “You think flipping a table is going to tell you who the father is?” Ryan’s hand froze mid-air. His face cycled between pale and green. Ethan looked at me for a long moment, then picked up the leftmost set of tweezers. In one clean motion, he pulled three hairs from his own temple and dropped them into the sterile bag I had ready. “Three days for results.” I sealed the bag. “Until the results are in, don’t come to my place causing trouble.” Steve was sprawled on the floor, screaming at me. “Olivia, you little bitch — how dare you talk to Mr. Holt like that!” Ethan didn’t even glance at him. The bodyguard pressed his foot down harder. Steve let out a shriek and passed out cold.

Nate and Ryan exchanged a look. Both clenched their jaws, picked up the tweezers, and pulled their hairs. Ethan turned and walked toward the door. At the threshold he stopped and looked back at me. “You’ve got more nerve than Jinx.” He gave a cold smile. “Three days. Let’s see who’s still standing.” The next morning, the rumble of three cargo trucks shook the whole alley. Case after case of imported formula. Two solid wood cribs. Diapers from three different brands, none of them the same. My four-hundred-square-foot dump was packed so full there was nowhere to step. Steve and my stepmother showed up first thing. My stepmother ran her hands over one of the cribs, practically drooling. “Oh my God, this wood alone has to be worth tens of thousands.” Steve didn’t say a word. He picked up two cases of formula and headed for the door. “Olivia. Take the rest of these down to the corner store.” He didn’t look back. “Old Larry will take them at half price. Good cash.” I stepped in front of the door. “Put it down.” Steve glared at me, spittle flying. “I’m your father! What’s wrong with taking a little food?” My stepmother had gone quiet. She was already sidling up to the crib, eyes darting around. “Steve. These two little ones are a gold mine.” “Take them straight to the Holts. Ask for a few million up front.” Steve dropped the formula and lunged for the crib. I stepped back, pulled out the black communication device Ethan had left behind last night, and pressed the red button. “Holt family assets under threat. Second floor, 4 South Alley, Village District.” Steve threw his head back and laughed. “You think a broken walkie-talkie is going to scare anybody?” Two minutes later, the security bars on the window exploded inward with a crash. Glass shattered. Three bodyguards in black broke through the window. Steve’s laughter died in his throat as the lead bodyguard’s fist connected with his face. Two bloody teeth flew out and hit the wall. My stepmother spun to run. She got a kick to the lower back and went sprawling face-first into the floor. The head bodyguard turned to me and lowered his head. “Miss Olivia. Your orders?” I pointed at the open front door. “Throw them out with the trash.” “Don’t let them dirty the babies’ space.” The bodyguards grabbed both of them by the collar and dragged them out. Steve clutched his busted mouth and slurred curses through the gaps. “Olivia, you little bitch! I’m calling the cops on you!” I walked over and looked down at him. “Go ahead.” “Tell them you tried to steal food out of Ethan Holt’s son’s mouth. See if anyone dares to touch me.” Steve started shaking all over. He couldn’t manage a single word. He scrambled up, grabbed my stepmother, and fled. The head bodyguard held out a set of keys and a key card. “Mr. Holt’s instructions. This place isn’t fit to live in.” “A secured riverside apartment has been prepared for you. Please move in immediately.” I took the keys and surveyed the room full of supplies. “Let’s move.” That night, I moved into the riverside apartment with the babies. Once I had the twins settled, I started sorting through the pile of junk luggage Jinx had shipped back earlier. When I got to a cardboard box stuffed with old diapers, my fingers hit something solid in the lining. I tore the cardboard open. Inside was an old phone with a cracked screen. I charged it, typed in Jinx’s birthday, and unlocked it. A document in the notes app popped open. The title read: Man Management Schedule. I tapped it. The screen filled with a dense, color-coded calendar. My finger stopped on the screen and didn’t move. The phone lit up with a new message. From Jinx. Be a good girl and take my place. Don’t ruin my fun in Vancouver.

I sent her a screenshot from the security camera — the one of three men lined up pulling their own hair — along with the schedule. Less than ten seconds later, the typing indicator appeared on her end. Ten voice messages came in. Sixty seconds each. “Olivia! Where did you get that?! If you show them that schedule, I swear I will come back and kill you!” I pressed the record button. “Before you kill me, you might want to think about how you’re going to explain your scheduling system to these three gentlemen.” “They’re out looking for you everywhere right now.” Silence from her end. I put my phone on silent and tossed it on the table. A soft sound came from the window. A man in a baseball cap and black face mask climbed through, tripped over the stroller, and fell flat on his face. Nate Cole yanked off his mask and pulled a black card from inside his jacket, slapping it on the table. “Ten million. You tell everyone I’m the father. The money’s yours.” I picked up the card and spun it between my fingers. “Big movie star, doing charity work in the middle of the night?” “Ten million to buy a kid?” “Jinx loved me most. The baby has to be mine.” Nate tilted his chin up. “I can’t let Ethan and Ryan take what’s mine.” I threw the old phone directly at his face. “Read it yourself.” Nate fumbled to catch it. He stared at the screen, and the color drained from his face one shade at a time. Thursday — Nate Cole — gallery date. Friday — Ryan Lux — yacht party… He kept reading, and his voice started to shake. “I’m just the Thursday slot?” “She told me I was her one and only soulmate!” “She said I was the only person whose singing she ever loved!” I pointed at the crib, where one of the babies had started crying. “Since you’re here, go mix the formula.” “Stop talking and do something useful.” Nate walked to the electric kettle with red-rimmed eyes. He cried while he scooped formula into the bottle. “How could she do this to me? I wrote her three songs!” “I held front-row seats at every single concert for her!” I tapped the table. “Water at 104 degrees. Don’t burn the baby.” “Cheap deal for a soulmate, honestly.” Nate sniffled and shook the bottle clumsily. “This isn’t over. What gives Ryan the right to be Friday? How am I less than him in any way?” I took the bottle from him and slipped it into the baby’s mouth. “Pray the kid is yours first.” “Otherwise you won’t even have the Thursday slot anymore.” Nate crouched beside the crib and watched the baby blow bubbles. Tears dripped steadily off his chin. “This baby looks just like me, don’t you think? Look at that nose. Strong bridge.” “Definitely the Cole family genes.” I glanced at the infant, whose features had barely formed yet. “Ryan and Ethan both said the same thing.” “Funny how your genes are all remarkably identical.” Nate shot to his feet and pointed at the door. “Bullshit! This is my kid! When those results come back, I’m going to shove the report in both their faces!” At three in the morning, my phone on the table went crazy with vibrations. The testing center. I answered. A burst of static screeched through the line. “Miss Olivia — something’s wrong, please don’t—” The call was cut off. A text message popped up, the red exclamation mark impossible to miss. DNA comparison reveals extreme anomaly. Report under full lockdown. Three days were up. I left the babies at the apartment and took a cab to the testing center alone. The moment I stepped out of the car, a dozen armed men had the entrance completely blocked. Steve was at the front, a cigarette between his fingers, blowing a smoke ring.

“Olivia. Hand over the report.” “Don’t make me get physical.” I stood at the bottom of the steps and looked at him. “What gives you the right to that report?” “You call yourself a father?” Steve dropped his cigarette and ground it out with his shoe. “I’m your father. And Jinx said if I destroy the report, she’ll wire me ten grand a month.” He waved his hand. A few thugs moved in with metal pipes. “Pin her down. Search her.” “Don’t let her ruin your sister’s plans.” “Nobody is walking out of here with that report today.” Engines roared from around the corner like a thunderclap. Three limited-edition sports cars fishtailed onto the sidewalk and blocked the thugs in completely. The doors flew open. A dozen bodyguards in black suits piled out and dropped everyone to the ground in seconds. Ryan Lux stepped out of the McLaren in the middle and took off his sunglasses. “Steve. Bold move.” “You think you can put your hands on my people?” Steve’s legs buckled. He went straight to his knees. “Mr. Lux, this is a misunderstanding! A complete misunderstanding!” “I was just disciplining my daughter — no disrespect to you, sir!” Ryan kicked him in the shoulder and sent him sprawling. “Get out of my sight before you get blood on my shoes.” “I see you again, I break both your legs.” He turned and looked at me, tilting his chin toward the door. “Let’s go. Get the report.” “I need to know if this baby is mine. I’ve already got the birthday party hotel booked.” I ignored him and walked straight through the testing center doors. The lobby was wrong — completely deserted. Not even the front desk nurse was visible. I went to the counter and knocked on the glass. “I need the DNA comparison report. Jinx versus the three men.” The front desk nurse was cowering in the corner. Her voice barely held together. “Miss Olivia — the report — the report can’t be released.” I frowned. “What does that mean? System crash?” The nurse shook her head rapidly and pointed upstairs. “Half an hour ago, the Holt family locked down the entire system.” “They took the attending doctor with them.” “We don’t know anything.” Ryan had followed me in. He heard every word. He slammed his sunglasses down on the counter. “What is Ethan Holt playing at?” “Trying to rig the results and keep the baby for himself?” “The Holt name may be big, but even he doesn’t get to break the rules like this!” I took out my phone and called the number Ethan had left. It rang three times before he picked up. “The results are in. Whose kid is it?” Dead silence on the other end. Just heavy, labored breathing. “Ethan. Playing dead isn’t going to work.” “Somebody settle the bill. I don’t have time to play rich-family politics with you.” When Ethan spoke, the arrogance from our first meeting was gone. His voice was low and carried something cold and unreadable. “It’s more complicated than you think.” I pushed back. “How complicated?” “Three men fighting over who gets to be a dad?” “Don’t tell me they’re quadruplets.” “It’s not just about the father.” Ethan paused. “Bring the children. Come to the West Estate. We talk face to face.” The line went dead. The dial tone echoed through the empty lobby. Ryan leaned over, his brow furrowed. “What did Ethan say?” “Is he bribing the doctor to change the results?” I pocketed my phone and walked toward the exit. “He said it’s not just about who the father is.” Ryan stopped cold. Then he caught up to me. “What does that even mean? Did the baby fall out of a rock?”

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I’d been with my childhood sweetheart Anderson for eight years. We were finally getting married. The night before the wedding, I overheard Anderson giving instructions to his friends: “Tomorrow, drive the wedding car straight to the Brown estate.” “The Brown estate?” Anderson lowered his voice. “Mia’s family is bankrupt. They owe the Browns hundreds of millions, and her parents want to hand her over to the old Brown patriarch to settle the debt. How could I just watch her life get ruined? Lisa will have to take her place.” His friend couldn’t believe it. “You can’t bear to ruin Mia, so you’ll ruin Lisa instead?” “That old man is already ninety. He just wants a young woman around to feel young again. When he dies in a year or two, I won’t hold it against Lisa that she’s been married before. I’ll still take her back.” “But do you really think Lisa will just go along with marrying some old man?” Anderson was quiet for a moment. “Tomorrow I’ll have my mom slip something into Lisa’s cake. By the time she wakes up, she’ll already be in the old man’s bed. At that point, she won’t have a choice.” I listened to every word without making a sound. I just walked quietly back to my room and waited for the wedding. By the time Anderson came looking for me again, wanting to get back together, I was already five months pregnant. “Just like you said,” I told him. “It’s done. You don’t have a choice anymore.”

The next morning, Anderson arrived with his groomsmen to pick me up. Mia came along too. When she walked through the door and saw me in my wedding dress, she burst into tears. “Lisa, I’m so jealous. You get to marry the man you love. You’re so lucky.” “Not like me. My parents are trying to marry me off to a ninety-year-old just to pay off their debts.” “But thankfully,” she dabbed at her tears and shot a pointed look at Anderson, “someone already took me to get our marriage license this morning. That old man can’t have me now.” Hearing the pride in her voice, I went completely still. I’d already known about the plan to send me in her place. What I hadn’t known was that Anderson had already married her. My best friend Laura didn’t know any of this. She leaned close and whispered, “Today is your big day with Anderson. What is she even doing here?” “And crying on purpose like that — is she trying to bring bad luck?” “It’s fine,” I said, patting Laura’s hand. Today was never going to be my wedding with Anderson. He was only pretending to go through the motions — just long enough to get me into the car. Laura suggested we play the traditional game of hiding the bride’s shoes. Anderson frowned slightly. “Everyone help look. We don’t have much time.” His friends searched the room and quickly found my wedding heels. Anderson took the shoes and walked straight toward Mia. “Lisa, Mia twisted her ankle on the way here. Her heels are broken.” He crouched in front of Mia and smoothly swapped out her damaged shoes. “Mia has delicate feet. She can’t wear rough shoes.” He glanced back at me. “Let her have your wedding heels.” Then he pulled a worn-out pair of sneakers from the shoe rack and set them in front of me. “They’re just shoes.” He looked at me steadily, his smile still soft. “You won’t make a fuss over something like this, will you?” “Anderson, those are her wedding shoes!” Laura couldn’t stay quiet. “So what?” Anderson’s brow creased slightly. “They’re just shoes. Does it really matter which pair she wears?” “It’s not just about the shoes —” “Let it go, Laura.” I stepped in front of her. “She can have them.” Mia was the daughter of Anderson’s boss. For the past two years, Anderson had always used that as an excuse — “we can’t afford to upset her” — and I had given way every single time. I gave Mia credit for my work projects. I gave her my pet. I gave her clothes and jewelry I loved. And now, apparently, I was giving her my husband too. Eight years with Anderson, and what I got in return was an elaborately planned betrayal. Mia slipped on my wedding heels and couldn’t hide her satisfaction. “Anderson, these fit me perfectly. It’s like they were made for me.” She smiled smugly. “Where did you get them?” The pattern on those shoes had been designed by Anderson himself. When he was twenty, he pricked his fingers countless times working on them. He’d told me then: “Lisa, I don’t mind the pain. When we get married, you’ll wear these. I want to make you the only pair of wedding shoes like this in the whole world.” Back then, Anderson had been so good to me. He hated seeing me hurt. He wanted to give me everything. Then Mia came along, and everything changed.

Lost in those memories, I barely noticed Anderson kneeling in front of me, putting the beat-up sneakers on my feet. The bridesmaids hadn’t caught on to any of the tension. They started chanting, “Kiss! Kiss!” Anderson gave in to the crowd and leaned in toward me. That’s when Mia stumbled and fell straight into his arms. He caught her. Their lips met. The room went dead silent. Laura snapped. “Mia, you did that on purpose!” “I’m sorry, I just lost my balance…” “You lost your balance and somehow fell directly into the groom?” “Enough.” Anderson helped Mia steady herself, his expression tight. “Mia twisted her ankle today. Of course she lost her balance.” He turned to Laura, his tone cooling. “It was an accident. Is it really worth getting this upset over?” “It is absolutely —” Laura was about to lose it. I put my hand on her arm. Over the past two years, Anderson had written off a lot of things as “accidents” or “not worth fighting over.” Last year, Mia plagiarized a proposal I’d spent three months on. He said it wasn’t a big deal. Six months ago, Mia crashed our anniversary dinner. He said it wasn’t a big deal. Last month, Mia accidentally killed my cat — the one I’d had for six years. He said it wasn’t a big deal. Every single time, he told me not to make a thing of it. This time, I wasn’t going to bother either. While we were still standing there in that awkward silence, Anderson’s mother walked in carrying a cake. “Lisa, I’ve waited so long for this day.” She cut a slice and held it up to my mouth. “Here, have some cake. May your marriage be nothing but sweetness.” I stared at the slice in her hand. My parents died when I was young. For over a decade, Anderson’s family had taken me in and treated me like their own. And now, these two people who were the closest thing I had to family were working together to push me into something terrible. I knew exactly what eating that cake would mean. I opened my mouth and swallowed it anyway. Then Anderson lifted me in his arms and carried me downstairs, one step at a time. He used to carry me like this when we were kids. I was twelve when my parents died in a car accident. The shock was too much. I hid away for three days without eating or drinking anything. Anderson was the one who found me. He carried me home on his back, barely alive. He held my bony hand and told me: “Lisa, my home is your home now. My parents are your parents.” “Don’t be scared. I’m here. I’ll always protect you.” His shoulders felt exactly the same as they did back then — warm and steady. They just didn’t belong to me anymore. We reached the bottom of the stairs and Anderson set me down. “Lisa.” He adjusted my veil, smiling gently. “This is as far as I carry you. The rest of the way, you walk on your own.” Laura was furious. “By tradition, the groom is supposed to carry the bride to the car!” “Says who?” “Anderson, what is wrong with you today?” Laura was shaking. “Something has been off with you since the moment you walked in.” “Laura.” I took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay. I can walk.” Anderson was never my groom. What right did he have to carry me anywhere? The wedding car was parked about a hundred feet away. Once I walked that road, everything between us would be finished.

After I got in the car, Anderson stood at the door without moving. “Lisa.” He looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Finally, he said only: “Take care of yourself.” Laura’s voice was clipped. “Why are you still standing there? Aren’t you getting in?” Anderson smiled and pointed to the car behind us. “I’ll ride in the other one. I’ll be right behind you.” He shut the door with a thud. Laura’s frown deepened. “What is going on with Anderson today? He’s acting completely bizarre.” “Nothing’s going on,” I said quietly. “He just wants to send me to marry someone else in Mia’s place.” “In her place?” Before I could explain further, Laura suddenly tensed. “Wait — driver, stop the car!” “You’re going the wrong way. Why are you heading out there? Turn around!” “Laura.” I cut her off. “He’s not going the wrong way. I’m being taken to the Brown estate.” “The Brown estate?” I told her everything. By the time I finished, Laura was trembling with rage. “That bastard. How could he do this to you? Has he completely lost his mind?” I stayed calm. “Anderson’s family raised me all these years. Consider it repayment.” “They raised you, yes — but you saved Anderson’s life. That debt was settled a long time ago!” “And on top of that, these past two years, every time his back gave out and he could barely get out of bed, you were the one who never left his side!” “You gave him everything. How dare he treat you like this?” Laura wasn’t wrong. If we were keeping score, I had cleared my debt long ago. But it didn’t matter anymore. My phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Mia. “Lisa! Today is such a happy day — Anderson just gave me a wedding gift. Isn’t it gorgeous?” I stared at the photo. The gemstone bracelet. My whole body went cold. That bracelet had belonged to my mother. It had been passed down from my great-grandmother’s generation. Because I was so young when she died, Anderson’s mother had been keeping it safe for me. They had promised — promised — to give it back on my wedding day. How could he just give it to Mia? “Stop the car!” “Miss, once the wedding car starts moving, it can’t stop —” Right. The driver had already been paid off by Anderson. They were dead set on delivering me to the Brown estate. Anderson’s car was right behind mine, but there was no way to confront him face to face. My hands were shaking as I called him. “Anderson.” I kept my voice steady. “Why did you give Mia my mother’s bracelet? That belongs to me.” “Lisa, it’s just a bracelet.” His voice on the other end was dismissive. “Mia liked it. Just let her have it. If you want a bracelet, I’ll buy you any one you want —” “She likes it, so she gets everything that’s mine?” I cut him off. “My wedding heels. My mother’s bracelet. My husband. And now — you want me to take her place marrying some old man?” Anderson went quiet. “You know about that?” After a brief pause, his voice dropped lower. “Lisa, the old Brown patriarch is ninety years old. He’s not going to do anything to you. This marriage is just a formality.” “Mia saved my life once. She’s so young. I can’t just stand by and let her life be destroyed.” Saved his life? “Lisa, I only registered the marriage with Mia to protect her from her parents. Once things settle down with her family, once the old man passes, I’ll come and bring you home. Everything will go back to the way it was. Trust me.”

“I don’t need you to bring me home!” The anger I’d been holding back finally broke loose. “Anderson, I want my mother’s bracelet. Give it back to me —” He hung up before I could finish. The steady beeping of a dead line filled my ear. It felt like the ground had dropped out from under me. Laura was sobbing with rage. “He’s unbelievable. How dare he do this to you — he’s going to get what’s coming to him, I swear —” [Bang.] Before she could finish, a truck ahead of us jackknifed and triggered a chain-reaction collision. Our wedding car got pinned between two other vehicles. Laura and I were trapped in our seats, unable to move. The truck in front caught fire. The flames were already spreading toward us. Anderson saw what happened. He threw open his car door and sprinted toward us. Then, from behind him, Mia screamed. “Anderson! My head — I’m bleeding — there’s so much blood!” He stopped dead. Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned back. “Anderson!” I tore the words from my throat. “If you walk away right now — if you choose her — then everything between us, every single year we had together, is over!” He hesitated. Then he turned away. “Lisa,” he said. “Mia isn’t strong. I have to get her to a hospital first.” Ten years ago, under the moonlight, he had made me a promise: “Lisa, no matter what happens, you will always be my first choice.” Ten years later, he was saying: “Mia isn’t strong. I have to get her to a hospital first.” Over a decade of being each other’s everything, and it all meant less than a woman who had shown up out of nowhere. I watched him walk away without looking back. In that moment, something crystallized inside me. It didn’t matter where I ended up. Anywhere was better than here. Mia had a mild concussion and was kept at the hospital for observation. Anderson stayed by her side the entire night. When he woke up the next morning, a dull ache was already gnawing at his lower back. Out of habit, he called out: “Lisa, my back is acting up again. Come help me up.” The words had barely left his mouth before he remembered. Lisa wasn’t there. One of his friends had told him — Lisa had been pulled from the wreck by people from the Brown estate and brought safely into their household. Anderson felt hollowed out. He’d heard the Brown family was heading up to their ancestral burial grounds that day for a memorial. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lisa. He had to see for himself that she was okay. He followed them from a distance. At the cemetery, he spotted her from afar. She wasn’t causing a scene. She stood quietly among the family gathered for the ceremony, pouring water for old Mr. Brown, who sat in a wheelchair. Something uncomfortable twisted in his chest. He told himself: once the old man dies, he would bring Lisa home. He would never let her be treated poorly again. On his way back down the hill, he caught a fragment of conversation between two of the Brown household staff. “The new wife was crying out all night in the bridal suite. I was standing right outside — I didn’t know where to look.” “First night of marriage. That kind of passion is normal.” Anderson stopped in his tracks. All night? A ninety-year-old man? He stood there, dazed, as a tall young man walked past him — close enough to brush his shoulder. Anderson turned to look. Something about the man nagged at him. He was certain he’d seen him somewhere before. Then he noticed what the man was holding, and Anderson went completely rigid. “Wait.”

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On the way to the hospital, someone shoved a survey into my hands. [What moment in your life would you most want to go back to?] I thought for a few seconds, then put pen to paper. [I want to go back to the day of the New York pile-up. I want to stop the doctors from saving me.] The girl next to me read my answer and gasped. “I heard only nine people survived that crash. Why would you want to stop them from saving you?” I pressed my hand to the transplanted heart in my chest and looked up at the largest screen on the building across the street. It was playing footage of Ethan Shelton dropping seven figures on a sapphire ring for some film school girl. Everyone envied her. She’d brought one of New York’s most powerful men to his knees. But no one knew that I was on my way to terminate Ethan Shelton’s baby. I handed the survey back to the girl and forced a smile. “I was always supposed to die that day.” Back then, the doctors had mistaken me for Ethan’s sister. They took her heart and gave it to me. I’d been living with that heart for three years. And Ethan had hated me for three years.

I decided it was time to give the heart back. The girl stared at me, frozen. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she finally spoke. “That wasn’t your fault.” “Don’t be so hard on yourself. What’s done is done.” “You have to keep moving forward.” After those few words of comfort, she couldn’t help asking one more thing. “Did her brother ever come after you?” I shook my head and smiled, though it tasted bitter. Back then, Ethan hadn’t come after me at all. He’d comforted me. Endlessly. Every night I drowned in guilt, he flew back from Wall Street just to be with me. When the medication made me sick, he drove thirty miles in the middle of the night to get me the cupcakes I loved. I thought Ethan loved me. Then, on our one-year anniversary, he brought a woman home. After he was done with her in our bed, he looked at me with cold, empty eyes while I sobbed. “Nina, if you hadn’t swapped jackets with Vivian that day, how would the doctors have ever mistaken you for her? How would they have taken her heart and given it to you?” “Vivian was pampered her whole life. She cried over the smallest things. Do you have any idea how much pain she was in when she died?” “Nina, I want you to spend the rest of your life paying for what you did to her.” Ethan’s reckoning came down hard and fast. After that day, he started bringing women home constantly, forcing me to watch. He let them hurt me, again and again. They locked me in a sauna room for three days and three nights. They tied weights to my legs and threw me into a frozen lake. Three years of this. I was exhausted. If Ethan hated me that much for taking Vivian’s heart, I thought, then I’d give it back. I picked up the paperwork from the abortion clinic and went to the hospital where I’d booked my third consultation for the heart removal surgery. The doctor took one look at me and frowned. “Ms. Cole, I’ve told you — you’re still pregnant. We can’t perform the heart removal surgery under these conditions.” I didn’t argue. I set the abortion paperwork on his desk. “I’m having the abortion today.” “It won’t interfere with the heart removal.” “But — once we replace it with an artificial heart, you’ll only have a year to live. What’s the point?” “And the father has a right to know. Does he consent to the abortion?” Would Ethan consent? The doctor’s words pulled me back to a few days ago. I’d been excited. I’d grabbed the prenatal report and gone to find Ethan. Instead, I walked in on one of his friends asking him a question. If I were pregnant, would he still keep up his revenge? Ethan paused for a few seconds. Then he threw his head back and laughed.

Like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Pregnant?” “That would be perfect.” “Nina owes Vivian a life. She can pay it back with the baby.” “Once she gives birth, I’ll cut the child’s heart out right in front of her—” His words hit me like a blade driving straight into my chest. My thoughts spiraled. Tears streamed down my face as I pressed a hand to my stomach. “The child has no father.” So it wouldn’t affect the heart removal surgery. The procedure took an hour. When it was done, I booked the heart removal surgery. One week from now. I walked out of the hospital, one hand pressed to my lower abdomen, breathing slowly and carefully. I’d barely swallowed my pain medication when Ethan called. “Nina. Golden Horse Club. Ten minutes.” “You know what happens if you’re late.” I tucked the surgery paperwork into my bag and caught a cab. The moment I walked in, a ball slammed into my face. “Ethan, you called it — it really is Nina.” “Almost thought we hit the wrong person.” Someone laughed and grabbed the ball back. My nose throbbed. A thick, metallic taste filled my mouth. Blood dripped onto the white carpet. I wiped it away like it was nothing, then walked over to Ethan. His bare chest was covered in bite marks and scratches. A girl was draped in his arms. He swirled his drink, glanced at me, and smirked. “You showed up.” “I lost at cards again tonight. Drink this for me.” He gestured to a case of beer. I looked at Ethan and forced a smile. Without hesitation, I grabbed a bottle and tipped it back. The alcohol burned all the way down. My vision blurred with the pain. In under a minute, the bottle was gone. My stomach churned violently. But I didn’t stop. I wiped my mouth and reached for the next one. My fingers touched the cold glass — and then my heart seized. I gripped my palm hard, trying to breathe through it, and reached for the couch. Someone kicked me to the floor. Thud. My head hit the ground hard. I nearly blacked out. When I pulled myself back up, the room erupted in laughter. Ethan sat at the center of it all, a faint smile on his lips. “Enough.” The room went quiet. He walked over to me, helped me to my feet, then reached into his jacket and pulled out the sapphire ring from the auction. It caught the light — a deep, brilliant blue that filled the room with color. Ethan looked at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he got down on one knee. “Nina, will you marry me?” I hadn’t even processed it yet. Then his mouth curved into a contemptuous smile. “I bet you’ve played this moment in your head a thousand times.” “I bet you already know exactly how you’d cry when you said yes.” “Too bad, Nina. This ring isn’t for you.” He turned and gestured to the girl beside him. She wore a white sundress. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and clear. I knew who she was. She was the film school student he’d been keeping — Lily Smith. “Lily. Give me your hand.” Ethan slipped the ring onto Lily’s finger and laced his hand through hers. He glanced at me sideways, his eyes full of contempt. Then his other hand moved gently to Lily’s neck, and he pulled her into a deep kiss. The room erupted. I pressed my hand to my heart and let my tears fall in the middle of the crowd.

An hour later, the party ended. Ethan carried Lily to the car, rolled down the window, and spoke to me like we’d done this a hundred times. “Nina, it’s one in the morning. Walk home.” “And make sure you go past the crash site.” “I don’t want to see you living too comfortably.” The window went up. The car pulled away. I stood there as a cold wind rolled through. I pushed through the pain and started walking toward the house, one step at a time. One in the morning. That was when the New York pile-up had happened. It was also the time Vivian’s heart had been given to me. Ethan never let me forget it. Thirteen kilometers. It took me four hours. By the time I reached the hillside house, my legs were giving out. I reached up and pressed the doorbell with the last of my strength. My vision went dark. I was about to pass out when the door swung open. “Nina, go clean up Lily. She’s exhausted.” Ethan stood shirtless in the doorway, his body marked with Lily’s lipstick and scratches. The pain in my chest was so sharp I had to clench my teeth. I looked up and met his eyes. One more week, Ethan. After that, I won’t owe you anything. I looked away. I lowered my head and walked through the house to the master bedroom. The wide black bed reeked of them. I went in anyway. I leaned over and gently shook Lily awake. She opened her eyes and looked at me, suddenly shy. “Nina, I’m sorry to trouble you.” “Mr. Shelton, he—” She didn’t finish. I cut her off, took her arm, and guided her to the bathroom. I filled the tub with warm water and cleaned her off with a towel, taking care of every mark on her skin. Half an hour later, I helped her back to bed. The entire time, Ethan watched with quiet amusement. When I finished and turned to leave, he spoke. “Nina. Is there something you forgot to tell me today?” His eyes drifted toward my stomach. I smiled, though it hurt. Shook my head. Went downstairs to the staff room. I shut the door. My whole body shook as I slid down to the floor. I dug the medication out of my bag and swallowed all of it at once. The pills kicked in and I drifted off. I hadn’t been asleep long when the door burst open with a kick. Ethan stood there, furious. “Nina, what did you do to Lily when you washed her up?” “Why is she bleeding?” I pushed myself upright and saw that both of Ethan’s hands were covered in blood. I opened my mouth. Before I could say a word, Ethan grabbed my arm and dragged me to the car. “You’re coming to the hospital with us.” “If anything happens to Lily, I will not let you walk away from this.” I was thrown into the back seat. I pressed my hand to my chest, the pain so severe I could barely breathe. At the hospital, I watched Ethan rush through the entrance with Lily cradled carefully in his arms. I sat alone in a cold plastic chair, clenching my teeth against the pain. A few minutes later, Ethan came back out. “Come with me. Lily has an ectopic pregnancy. She’s hemorrhaging. You’re Rh-negative. Get in there and give blood.” He turned and walked away like it was already decided. For three years, I had done everything he asked. But this time, I thought about the heart removal surgery in one week. And for the first time, I said no. “Ethan. I won’t.” “What did you just say?” He turned around. The disbelief on his face shifted into a cold sneer as it sank in. He leaned against the wall. “Nina. Have you still not figured out where you stand?

“You don’t get to say no to me. Not ever.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folding knife. “I’ll give you two choices.” “Come give blood. Or I use this to take back the heart that was never yours.” Three years. Countless nights of suffering. I’d thought about cutting the heart out myself and handing it back to Ethan more times than I could count. But every time I picked up a knife, I thought of my mother. Stage-four cancer. Fighting every day to stay alive. Every time, I told myself — hold on a little longer. For her. A few more days. Then a few more. Three years passed. This time, I forced down every thought screaming inside me and gave in. “Ethan. I’ll go give blood for Lily.” Three full bags. I watched them drain out through the tube. A deep cold settled over me. My body shook without my permission. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. Just when I thought I was going to slip under, I heard Lily’s voice — surprised, almost embarrassed. “Mr. Shelton, Nina’s health isn’t good. Can she really give this much?” “My doctor friend told me it was just my period coming on suddenly. You didn’t have to rush like this.” The moment those words landed, I turned and looked at Ethan. Tears slid down my face. Everything went black. When I came to, I was in a hospital room. I could hear nurses nearby, talking in hushed, excited voices. “So romantic—” “Mr. Shelton — he rented out a whole luxury yacht to propose…” I sat up and pushed open the room door. On the screen at the end of the hallway, Ethan’s proposal video was playing on a loop. Down on one knee, eyes full of love. It brought back something Vivian had told me once, quiet and bright-eyed, like she was sharing a secret. “Nina, my brother likes you. He’s been asking me what kind of proposal you’d want.” I’d told her I wanted it on a yacht. Ethan had done it. Just not for me. A sharp pain moved through my chest. My phone buzzed. [Ms. Cole, your surgery is approaching. Do you still wish to proceed?] I pushed through the crowd and typed back. [Yes.] At noon, the heart removal surgery went smoothly. When I woke up on the operating table, my chest beat with a steady mechanical rhythm. An artificial heart. One that wouldn’t spike with grief or flinch with love. For the first time in three years, I didn’t have to hurt over Ethan anymore. Tears ran down my face anyway. My phone rang on the table beside the bed. “Nina, Vivian’s memorial is in three days. You know what you’re supposed to do. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” Ethan’s voice was cold and flat. I turned to look at the heart sitting in a cooler beside me. “I haven’t forgotten.” Vivian had loved extreme sports. Every year on her memorial, Ethan and his friends forced me to take on some kind of challenge in her honor. For three years, I’d been terrified every time. And every time, I’d gritted my teeth and done it. This year, I didn’t have to force myself anymore. Because I was about to give the heart back. I stayed in the hospital until the day of Vivian’s memorial. Then I checked out temporarily and made my way to the most exclusive private cemetery in the city. I’d barely reached Vivian’s grave when I heard Ethan’s friends laughing nearby. “Ethan, we found something for this year. You’re going to love it.” “Nina’s going to lose it when she sees what we picked.” “You’d better not go soft on her.” “Soft? On the person who killed Vivian?”

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My father gave me a choice: inherit the family’s $30 billion trust fund, or take a $1,500 monthly allowance. I chose the allowance without a second thought. I wasn’t worried. But my roommate Gerald was losing his mind. In my past life, I’d chosen to inherit the $30 billion — and Gerald had used my family trust to take our entire class on a trip to Las Vegas. In a single night, he blew through every cent. The family business went bankrupt, and my father, overcome with rage, died of a heart attack. I went to Gerald and demanded he pay it back. He just hid behind my girlfriend Monica, looking sorry for himself. “Dallas, you can’t blame me just because your family went broke.” Monica kicked me so hard she cracked my ribs, then pointed her finger at me. “Dallas, you’re the one who threw it all away gambling. And now you’re framing Gerald? Have you no shame?” When I tried to hire a private investigator to look into it, Gerald ran me over with his car. Monica and every single classmate testified on his behalf, swearing I’d thrown myself at the vehicle on purpose. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I had to make my choice.

It was the week before graduation. Gerald stood up in class and proposed a trip to Las Vegas to celebrate. “Everyone, let’s hit Vegas before we graduate — my treat, all expenses covered!” His words sent a shiver down my spine. The memory of shattering bones hadn’t quite faded yet. That’s when it hit me. I’d been reborn. The moment Gerald said it, the whole class erupted. “That’s what we’re talking about — old money!” “If we’re going to Vegas, we have to hit the casino! I’ve seen the ads forever but never actually been!” Gerald flashed his most dazzling smile. “Then the casino it is!” Then his gaze drifted to me. He walked over and draped an arm around my shoulder. “Dallas, I heard the Franklin family has a VIP card at the casino. Lend it to us, man. Let everyone get the full five-star treatment.” My expression went cold. In my past life, everything had started the moment Gerald asked for that card. He’d used it as a pretense to quietly pocket the Zurich Bank card tied to my father’s $30 billion trust fund. It wasn’t until a court clerk called my phone to inform me the company had filed for bankruptcy that I realized the money Gerald had been throwing around all night was my family’s trust fund. When I showed up at Gerald’s place to demand repayment, he hid behind Monica with the most pitiful look on his face. “Dallas, you can’t blame me just because your family went bankrupt.” My girlfriend Monica kicked me so hard she cracked my ribs, then screamed at me. “Dallas, you’re the one who gambled it all away. Now you’re trying to pin it on Gerald? You’re disgusting!” When I tried to hire a private investigator, Gerald got in his car and drove straight at me — running me over again and again until I stopped breathing. Afterward, Monica and every classmate testified that my family had gone under and I’d snapped. That I’d thrown myself in front of the car on purpose. My father had also passed away from a heart attack brought on by the stress of it all. I reached mechanically into my bag. My fingertips found the cold metal of the card. I wrapped my hand around it tight. When I didn’t respond, Gerald grinned and hooked his arm around my neck. “Dallas, come on. Let us borrow it for a bit. It’s not like you’re losing anything!” “Sorry, that card belongs to my father. I can’t just lend it out.” I pushed the VIP card back to the bottom of my bag. Gerald’s smile dropped. “You’re going to inherit your dad’s company sooner or later anyway. Why are you keeping score between family?” Monica snatched my bag and turned it upside down. Everything spilled across the floor — my phone, my Switch, my tablet. She spotted the gold card instantly, picked it up, and held it out to Gerald. “There it is. Just take it.” When Gerald took it, his fingers lingered over Monica’s hand. “Monica always gets it. Dallas, you could really learn something from her.” Then something else caught his eye. He stared at the console on the floor. “Wait, is that a Switch 2? I heard those sold out everywhere. I’ve been trying to get one forever.” Monica caught the look in his eyes and bent down to pick it up, pressing it into Gerald’s arms. “Take that too. Dallas is obviously done with it.” “Thanks, Monica.” Gerald’s face lit up. I grabbed both — the console and the card — right out of his hands. “Sorry. Neither of those are available.” Monica’s expression curdled. She grabbed my arm. “Dallas, when did you get so petty?” “Petty?” I turned and slapped her across the face.

The crack of the slap rang through the classroom. Monica stumbled back two steps, her hand flying to her cheek, her carefully styled bangs falling loose. Her eyes went wide, like she couldn’t believe what had just happened. The rhinestones on her nails caught the sunlight. “Dallas! You actually hit me!” Her shriek was like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. I shook out my stinging hand. “That’s for overstepping. What gave you the right to hand my things to someone else?” The classroom exploded. “Dallas, have you lost it?” “It’s just a game console — seriously?” “He hit his own girlfriend!” “Rich kids think they can do anything!” Gerald rushed to steady Monica, then turned on me. “Dallas, Monica was just trying to do something nice for everyone. What is your problem?” I picked my things up off the floor and calmly tucked the VIP card into my pocket. “My position is simple. Not lending it.” Monica shook Gerald off and charged at me. “Dallas! Give that card to Gerald right now and apologize to both of us, or we’re done. I don’t want a boyfriend who’s this small-minded!” “Give it back? It was mine to begin with. Give it back to who, exactly?” I stepped past her reach. A small smile tugged at my lips. “If you want to break up, fine. Saves me a breakup gift.” That set her off completely. Monica was shaking. “You — you think I care about your money?” “Don’t care about it?” I glanced at the Cartier watch on her wrist. “Then hand back the birthday present I got you last week.” Her face went white. Her free hand instinctively moved to cover the watch. The looks on everyone’s faces around us turned complicated. Class president Rafael shoved back his chair and slammed his hand on the desk. “Dallas, you’re being completely selfish! Gerald is paying for everyone to go to Vegas and you can’t do one thing for the group?” “Exactly,” other voices piled on. “Always acted so laid-back, but when it matters he shows his real colors.” I looked around the room. Familiar faces, but strangers to me now. These were the same people who’d stood in a courtroom in my past life and said I’d killed myself. “Gerald’s taking you to Vegas. Go ask Gerald for what you need. Why are you coming to me?” Gerald stepped forward again. “If we use your VIP card, all our spending counts toward your points and moves you up a tier. It’s a win for everyone.” Monica pressed close to Gerald’s side. The pain in her cheek seemed to have disappeared entirely. “He’s so thoughtful. Even after how Dallas just acted, Gerald’s still looking out for him.” “Since everyone wants to go to Vegas so badly…” I reached into my wallet and slowly pulled out a card. “Fine. Here.” Gerald’s face lit up. He reached for it. I flipped it over. It was a campus meal card. “Are you messing with me?” Gerald’s face darkened. “Right back at you.” I flipped the card through my fingers. “Isn’t that exactly what you were doing to me — trying to guilt me into it?” Monica grabbed the box of chalk off the teacher’s desk and hurled it at me. “Dallas! I must have been blind to ever get involved with you!” I stepped aside. Chalk scattered across the floor.

When Gerald realized I wasn’t giving up the card, his expression went dark. He signaled to the guys around him. A handful of them moved to surround me almost immediately. “Dallas.” Gerald dropped his voice, his eyes turning cold. “Don’t push this. It’s just a card. Do you really want to make this ugly?” I held my bag in front of me. “What — when borrowing doesn’t work, you try taking it?” “Taking it? We’re just helping you come to your senses.” Rafael shoved me from behind. I stumbled and hit the edge of a desk. My bag fell, everything scattering across the floor again. Monica stood off to the side with a smirk. “Serves you right.” A few guys kicked my textbooks aside. One of them deliberately stepped on my Switch. The screen cracked with a sharp snap. “What are you doing?!” I pushed back to my feet, but someone pressed down hard on both my shoulders. “Relax, Dallas.” Gerald smiled, reaching toward my pocket. “We’re all classmates here. What’s the big deal about a card?” I knocked his hand away. “Back off.” That did it. Gerald’s expression turned ugly. He grabbed me by the collar. “So you want to do this the hard way, huh?” The people around us didn’t step in. They egged it on. “Hit him! What’s having money got him?” “It’s a card. Get over yourself.” Gerald cocked back his fist and swung at my face. I turned my head. His punch missed. I grabbed his wrist and twisted. “Ah!” He let out a sharp cry and staggered back. Monica screamed. “Dallas! You’re going to hit him now too?!” She lunged at me. I pushed her back and pulled out my phone, dialing 911. “I’m on the third floor of Building 5 at Whinston University. Someone is attempting to rob me, damaging my property, and assaulting me.” Monica’s face went pale. She threw herself at me. “Are you insane?!” She ripped the phone from my hand and, without a second thought, hurled it out the window. It hit the pavement below and the screen exploded. The classroom went dead silent. But what no one expected was that in less than ten minutes, they heard sirens from the street below. When the officers walked in, Gerald and Monica went white. “Who called this in?” The lead officer looked around the room. “I did.” I raised my hand. “They took my belongings and threw my phone out the window.” The officer looked at everything on the floor, then at my cracked Switch, then at the shattered phone on the ground below. His brow furrowed. “What happened here?” Gerald immediately put on his most innocent face. “Officer, this is a huge misunderstanding. We were just messing around!” Monica was right behind him. “Exactly, just friends goofing off. It’s nothing!” The other students backed them up one by one. I looked around calmly. Same as my past life. Every single one of them. The officer’s expression didn’t change. “Throwing a phone, assault — this is what you call goofing off?” Mr. Tim, our professor, came rushing in with a stormy look on his face. “What on earth is going on in here?!” The officer gave him a quick rundown. Mr. Tim listened, then turned to Gerald with a hard stare. “You again.” Gerald tried to argue, but the evidence was right there on the floor. In the end, under police oversight, Gerald and Monica were made to reimburse me for the phone and the Switch, and to apologize in front of the class. As we left the office, Monica grabbed my arm and hissed through her teeth. “Dallas. You’ll regret this.” I looked at the rage twisting her face and, for some reason, I laughed. “I’ll be waiting.” When I got back to the dorm to pack, I noticed someone had gone through my things. But nothing was missing, so I let it go. I’d barely stepped off campus when a black Maybach pulled up in front of me. “Mr. Dallas, your father has urgent business. He needs you home.” The family butler, Mr. Johnson, didn’t wait for a response. He pulled me straight into the car. That evening, my father slid two documents across the table. Behind his gold-framed glasses, his eyes were sharp as a blade. “Dallas. This is your last chance to choose. The $30 billion family trust fund — or a $1,500 monthly allowance.” “The full amount has already been deposited into your Zurich Bank account. Sign the papers and the money is yours. The business is yours.” The crystal chandelier in the boardroom scattered harsh light behind my father. I squinted. For a moment I was back there — headlights coming straight at me, the sound of bones breaking under tires. Gerald’s grin as I died was still fresh in my memory. “I’ll take the $1,500 a month.”

I pulled the document on the right side of the table toward me and signed my name. My father’s pen hit the hardwood with a sharp clack. He shot to his feet. “Have you lost your mind?” I looked up at him and smiled. “I’m still young. I don’t have enough experience. I’m not ready to manage something the size of a $30 billion fund.” “Besides — you’re in great health, Dad. I’ve got time to learn.” My father studied me for a long moment without saying a word. “If you take the $1,500, that’s all you get. Not a cent more per month. You’re sure about this?” I nodded again to confirm. He could see I meant it. His voice came out flat. “Johnson. Freeze Dallas’s Zurich Bank card.” The next morning, I fished out the two fake cards Gerald had swapped in and tossed them in the trash. Then I followed him and the others out to Las Vegas. My father was a regular at this casino. He’d brought me here more than once. Even the guys at the door knew my face. The manager jogged over to greet me. “Mr. Dallas, you’re on your own today?” “I heard some of my classmates were here. Figured I’d come take a look.” He nodded along eagerly. “A group of young people did come in this morning, actually. So those were your classmates, Mr. Dallas! Had I known, we’d have made sure they were taken care of properly.” I waved it off. “It’s fine. Just show me to them.” He pressed a stack of ten chips into my palm with a grin. “These are on me, Mr. Dallas. Enjoy yourself.” I tossed one in the air and caught it. Each chip was worth a hundred thousand dollars. I smiled and took them. The main floor of the casino was blazing with lights, loud and electric with energy. The moment I walked in, someone at Gerald’s table spotted me. Then came the laughter. “Well, look who it is.” Gerald swirled a champagne flute, the diamond cufflinks at his wrist glinting in the light. “Mr. Dallas, heir to the Franklin fortune. Change your mind about joining us?” Monica was leaning against him, fresh rhinestones on her nails tapping the stack of chips in front of her. “Should have just lent us the VIP card when we asked. Now you show up like this…” She drew out the pause. “Don’t tell me you’re here to apologize?” “Probably just jealous seeing us playing big,” Rafael called out, slapping the table with a laugh. “Little late to figure out which side to be on, don’t you think?” I unbuttoned my jacket and took a seat at the next table over. The dealer was about to start when Gerald kicked back his chair and swaggered over. A cloud of cheap cologne mixed with cigarettes and alcohol hit me before he arrived. “Drop the act.” He threw a stack of chips down on my table with a crash, the pieces rolling to my side. “Get on your knees and maybe I’ll let you play with a few of these.” The casino manager moved toward us. I raised a hand to stop him and gently nudged the chips back across the felt. “Gerald — you know why casinos put carpet on the floors?”

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Just because my uncle Keita’s first love jumped off a building, and I was the last person to see her before she did. Keita decided I was the one who killed his first love, Louise. He hated me for ten years because of it. Later, on the way to take me to pay respects at Louise’s grave, we got into a car accident. Keita threw himself in front of me to shield me. He died from his injuries. With the last of his strength, just before he passed, he said to me: “Sophia, I regret ever taking you in.” Keita’s parents broke down at the funeral: “You bitch! First you killed your mother, now you’ve killed my son!” So on a clear night, I walked into the ocean and let it take me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back, three days before Louise jumped. This time, I decided to walk away and let everyone have the life they wanted. I was reborn. Sent back to three days before Louise jumped. The smell of him reached me before the slap did. The crack of his palm against my face snapped me back to my senses. Keita stood in front of me, his expression hard, his hand still raised. “Sophia, what are you saying? I’m your uncle!” “When your mother left you in my care, I raised you like my own. If I’ve somehow given you the wrong impression—” “Keita, I’m sorry!” I cut him off, ignoring the burning pain spreading across my cheek. Looking at that cool, serious face in front of me — I understood. I was reborn. In my past life, when the car crash hit, Keita had thrown himself around me with everything he had. He died from his injuries. Just before the end, his pale lips parted, and he said each word slowly: “Sophia, I truly regret taking you in.” Then his eyes closed forever. I stood there, frozen, his parents’ crying filling my ears. Keita’s mother stared at his cold body and wept until she couldn’t breathe. She pointed a finger in my face and screamed: “You bitch! Wasn’t it enough to kill your own mother? You had to kill my son too!” “Give Keita back to me!” Keita’s father shoved me hard. I stumbled and fell to the ground. Dead. My Keita, the person I loved most, was dead. “Keita, you’ve got it wrong!” “I lost a bet at school today. They dared me to confess to the person I cared about most.” “You’ve always been the only one I have, so I just…” Keita blinked, then let out a slow breath. He looked at me, somewhere between exasperated and relieved. “Don’t joke around like that again.” I nodded, doing my best to look innocent and harmless. “I’m sorry. Does it still hurt?” Keita reached out and gently touched the cheek he’d just slapped. In my past life, I would have leaned into his hand and fished for comfort. But now my heart felt completely still. If anything, I felt a quiet sadness. I would never forget that Keita had used his dying breath to tell me he regretted taking me in. So this time around, I was going to give him the life he actually wanted. “It’s fine. I took the joke too far. I won’t do it again.” I shook my head and stepped back. Keita’s hand hung in the air for a moment, then retreated into his pocket. “By the way, this weekend is Louise’s birthday. Come with me to drop off a gift.” “I’ll introduce you to my friend.” Just a friend? If I remembered correctly, three days from now was Louise’s birthday — and her death anniversary. In my past life, I watched Louise climb over the railing of her terrace and fall. She was gone before she hit the ground. Because I was the last person to see Louise before she died, Keita decided I was responsible for her death. No matter how I tried to explain, he refused to believe me. What he never knew was that Louise had died because her plan had fallen apart — because of me — and she had taken her own life out of shame and rage. In my past life, Louise had invited Keita to her birthday party. At the party, she slipped something into his drink. What she hadn’t counted on was that I happened to be resting in a back room. One thing led to another, and I became the one who unknowingly helped Keita through it. By the time Louise rushed to the back room, what was done was done. Knowing her plan had failed, she stormed up to the roof terrace, consumed by humiliation. When I got there, she already had one leg over the railing. “Sophia, you filthy little home-wrecker! You ruined everything between me and Keita — I’ll make him hate you for the rest of his life!” The words had barely left her mouth before she let go. When Keita came to, he was convinced I had drugged him and driven Louise to her death. He hated me for ten years after that. No matter how many times I tried to tell him the truth, he refused to hear it. Fine. Then I’d give him what he wanted. “Sorry, Keita, I have a school event this weekend. I’m needed to help out.” “I won’t be able to make it — please wish Louise a happy birthday from me.” I turned and walked out of the study, so I didn’t see the shadow that passed across Keita’s face.

Back in my room, I finally let myself breathe. Looking at myself — whole, unharmed — my feelings twisted into something I couldn’t name. I’d been called a jinx my whole life. They said my birth killed my grandmother. That at three years old, I caused my father’s accident on the highway. My mother couldn’t take the whispers anymore. She packed us up and left, just the two of us, and came to New York. She worked three jobs so I could have a better life. It didn’t take long. The exhaustion wore her down, and one day she simply didn’t wake up. I didn’t understand what that meant then. I only knew I couldn’t wake my mother no matter how hard I tried, and I went two days without eating, alone in that apartment. On the third day, a line of luxury cars pulled up outside our building. A young man in a suit got out and dropped to one knee in front of me. His eyes were full of something that looked like heartbreak. He pulled me — half-starved and barely conscious — into his arms. “Sophia, will you come with me?” It wasn’t until I was older that I understood what had happened. My mother was gone. Keita had taken me in. I asked him why. He told me that when he was fifteen, enemies had kidnapped him and left him in the countryside. My mother — a woman with nothing but her bare hands — had pulled him out of that field and saved his life. The Keita family had spent years trying to track her down. By the time they found my hometown, she had already moved away. They followed the trail all the way back to New York. But my mother was already gone. She never got to see anyone return the favor. So Keita took me in. He treated my mother like an older sister, and had me call him Uncle. I never imagined that, on the day he died, he would tell me he regretted it. Maybe I really was the jinx they all said I was. Everyone who got close to me ended up hurt. Then why did fate send me back? Someone like me, a walking curse — I should have just stayed dead. Maybe the only reason I was given a second chance was to finally take my life into my own hands. I stayed at school all the way through Sunday evening. By then, I figured Keita had gone to celebrate Louise’s birthday. So I felt safe going home. I didn’t expect Keita to be there. He was sprawled on the couch, reeking of alcohol, completely out of it. I walked over and shook his shoulder. Nothing. Strange. Wasn’t he supposed to be at Louise’s, falling into bed with her? Or had they already… Never mind. None of that was my business anymore. I called for the housekeeper, and together we helped Keita back to his room. I had no idea how much he’d drunk. In my memory, Keita had only ever been this far gone once — the day Louise died. He’d drowned himself in alcohol trying to kill the grief. Louise was his first love. She’d gone abroad to study a few years back. I used to see a photo of the two of them on his nightstand. I glanced over at it now. There was only a lamp there. Nothing else. Keita was a man who loved deeply. After Louise died, he brought me to her grave every year on the anniversary of her death. He would press my head down in front of the headstone and force me to apologize. But it wasn’t my fault she died. So why should I apologize? I would rather have died than bow my head, and we stayed at that standoff for ten years. Keita’s hatred never faded. Then came another anniversary. The sky was gray and it was raining hard. Keita insisted on making the drive to the cemetery, nearly forty miles away. And then the accident happened. When the crash hit, Keita threw himself over me without thinking. I walked away with minor injuries. He didn’t walk away at all. His parents, shattered with grief, threw me out. Now I stood looking at Keita’s flushed face, and all I could manage was a bitter smile. I turned to go back to my room. Keita’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. Drunk as he was, his grip was iron. I lost my footing and stumbled into him. Keita half-opened his eyes and pulled me against his chest. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, I could feel the heat radiating off him. “Don’t leave me…” I lay there against him, listening to his heartbeat pound like a drum. “I’m sorry…” His grip didn’t loosen, and he kept murmuring things that didn’t quite make sense. Drunk people are the hardest to reason with. Maybe I just wanted one last moment of his warmth. I stopped fighting and let him hold me. Slowly, the tiredness crept in, and with Keita’s arms around me, I fell asleep. It’s just a hug, I told myself. Nothing will come of it.

I jolted awake the next morning. The other side of the bed had already gone cold. Keita was long gone. Good. At least we wouldn’t have to stare at each other across the sheets. When I was little, Keita used to hold me while I slept sometimes. I was terrified of thunder. One night during a bad storm, I hugged a pillow and hovered outside his bedroom door, working up the nerve to knock. Before I could, a crack of thunder scared the tears right out of me. Keita heard me crying and opened the door immediately. He carried me inside, held me close, and told me I could always come to him when I was scared. Keita was so good to me. He took care of everything, paid attention to everything. He made me feel like the most important person in the world. And because of that, I started to feel things I shouldn’t have. I became dependent on him. Possessive, even. And in the end, he used his dying breath to tell me he regretted taking me in. Let it go. That was a different life. This time, I was going to live for myself. Louise’s birthday came and went. Nothing happened. Everything stayed quiet. I felt a private wave of relief. As long as Louise was okay, Keita wouldn’t get into that accident. And if Keita didn’t get into that accident, there was no reason for me to stay. It was time to go. I started researching schools abroad. I wanted to study overseas. Keita was my legal guardian, and some of the paperwork for studying abroad required his signature. Once I had everything quietly prepared, I went to find him in his study. After all these years, I knew his habits by heart. Around nine at night, he usually worked late in the study. I made my way there alone and found the door slightly ajar. Louise’s voice drifted through the gap. “Keita, after what happened that night, are you really just going to pretend it didn’t?” My heart dropped. I thought back to how Keita had acted that night — the drinking, the things he’d said. Had he and Louise actually… “Louise, calm down. If something did happen, I’ll take responsibility. I mean that.” Keita’s voice was steady. “Right now, Sophia is in her senior year. I don’t want anything disrupting her before her SATs.” “But she’s not even your real niece. Once she turns eighteen, you’re not legally obligated to do anything for her.” Their voices were tense. Sharp. This was the first time I’d ever heard Keita and Louise argue, and it was about me. Should I have been grateful? Keita was willing to keep me around until I turned eighteen. “She turns eighteen in two months. By then, I’ll find a reasonable way to send her off.” My chest went cold. Even in this life — even though I’d already let him go — he was still going to get rid of me for Louise’s sake. If that was how it was always going to end, then I’d rather be the one to leave first. He wouldn’t need to bother finding a polite excuse. I’d take care of it myself.

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My daughter Alice had been trafficked by my foster brother Valencia. My wife Angel — a decorated police officer — turned him in without hesitation. Five years. Six interrogations. Valencia walked free every single time. After the seventh review came back empty, she dragged herself home, exhausted down to the bone. “There’s no evidence linking it to him,” she said. “Let’s just try for another baby.” I held her and cried through the whole night. The next morning, I threw Valencia into a pit I’d dug myself, and went live. I smiled into the camera. “Angel, you have five chances. Hand over the evidence you’ve been hiding. Otherwise…” I tossed a shovelful of dirt straight into his face. “You can come identify the body yourself.” Three minutes in, the viewer count was closing in on half a million. On camera: the outskirts of town, a stretch of wasteland, a freshly dug rectangular pit. Valencia was bound with rope, a rag stuffed in his mouth, lying at the bottom of the hole. I stood at the edge in a black jacket, face blank, a shovel and a mound of fresh dirt at my feet. And on the other side of that screen, the person who couldn’t breathe — the woman everyone called a legend — was my wife. Head of the Criminal Investigation Division. Angel. “Endrick! Stop it right now! What the hell is wrong with you?! Whatever this is, we can talk about it at home!” She was in full uniform, screaming at the camera. I watched her face on the big screen — all that panic — and let the corner of my mouth twitch. “Home? Angel, I don’t have a home anymore. Right now, all I want is the evidence.” The comment section was losing its mind: [Holy shit! This opening is INSANE! Is he actually going to bury this guy alive?] [Wait — his wife is THE Angel? The detective who cracked like a hundred major cases?? What is he doing?? Has he lost it??] [Setting aside everything else — this guy is livestreaming the kidnapping of a cop’s brother. That takes guts.] [This is kidnapping. This is a CRIME. “Guts”?? Someone call 911!!] The one-sided condemnation seemed to loosen something in Angel’s posture. She straightened up and switched into full professional mode. “Endrick! Alice’s case — all the evidence pointed to the trafficker who died in that accident!” “The case is closed! I don’t understand what more you want!” “Stop what you’re doing right now! Release Valencia! For the sake of our marriage, I’ll get you the best attorney money can buy!” I didn’t say a word. I just quietly bent down, grabbed the shovel, and scooped up a heap of wet dirt tangled with grass roots. Then I flicked my wrist, and the clump hit Valencia square in the face. He turned into a mud-caked mess, thrashing wildly at the bottom of the pit, letting out muffled, desperate wails. Angel’s expression froze solid. I drove the shovel into the ground with a heavy thud. “Angel, you think this is a game to me?” She went pale, her finger pointing at the screen, lips trembling. “You — you wouldn’t dare—” I pulled a small USB drive from my pocket and held it up to the camera. “One.” I raised a single finger. “Angel, it’s been five years. You handed me six ‘flawless’ case reports. Now you get six chances. That’s fair.” “That encrypted folder on your computer — the one protected by your badge number — upload everything in it. No edits, no deletions. Put it online.” “Each chance comes with one hour.” “If I don’t see it when that hour’s up…” I scooped another shovelful of dirt and let it fall into the pit, burying Valencia’s ankles. “…I’ll finish filling this hole.” [??? An encrypted folder?? Her own badge number as the password?? There is SO much going on here!] [Wait — how does he even know about the folder? This is genuinely terrifying the more you think about it.] [She’s a detective. Of course she has confidential files. This guy is just looking for a fight.] [Exactly. He’s clearly always been jealous of her and her brother. He’s using their daughter as an excuse to get revenge. Men can be so twisted.] The department’s official account posted an emergency notice: [Sir, your actions are in serious violation of the law. We have located you and officers are on their way. Stand down immediately.] Amateur hour. I’d had a friend set up IP masking for me. The signal had bounced through eighteen layers of the dark web. Their tech team wasn’t cracking that anytime soon. The minutes ticked by. The police made zero visible progress, cycling through the same warnings on the public feed over and over. Viewers flooded the department’s official account demanding action. Eventually, the department posted another update — claiming their technical team was working at full capacity, and warning me not to get comfortable. I checked my watch. Then I jumped down into the pit, pinned his hand under my boot, and raised the shovel over his palm. “Mmmph—!” Valencia’s eyes went wide with terror. He shook his head frantically. I brought it down without expression. Crack. A clean, sharp sound — the snap of bone — came through the mic and spread across every screen in the feed. I took a slow breath and raised the shovel again, this time over Valencia’s face. Just before it came down — “Stop!” Angel’s voice cracked. The veins along her temples were standing out. “I’ll give it to you! I’ll give it to you! Don’t touch him!”

A document appeared on the livestream a moment later. The title read: Analysis Report on Alice’s Psychological Profile and Assessment of Runaway Risk. I skimmed it. Just as I suspected — something I’d never seen before. The report had been issued by a well-known psychiatric institute. Dozens of pages, dense and official-looking. It described Alice as a child with severe Oppositional Defiant Disorder, and “scientifically” concluded that there was a 90% probability she had run away on her own. I read one line, and brought the shovel down on Valencia’s face. CRACK. The sharp edge connected hard. Valencia’s scream tore through the wasteland. Blood poured from his nose and the corner of his mouth. A few teeth came loose, dropping into the dirt mixed with red. “Endrick!” Angel slammed her fist on the table so hard the camera shook. “I gave you what you asked for! What the hell do you want now?!” I zoomed in on the report and held it up so everyone watching could read it clearly. “You think every person watching this is an idiot?” “Alice scored top of her class on every single test. And now you’re telling me she had a psychological disorder?” I cut the display and stared cold into the camera. “Angel, don’t insult me with garbage like this. It won’t work.” Angel went another shade paler. The comment section erupted: [I mean, isn’t the report scientifically valid? Mental health issues and academic performance aren’t related. Plenty of gifted kids have behavioral disorders.] [Detective Angel’s professional record is nationally recognized! What do YOU know about psychology?] [Let him go! Just let him go! This guy has completely lost it. He’s being completely unreasonable.] I smiled and glanced at my watch. “Sweetheart. You have four hours left.” Angel pressed both hands flat on the table, eyes locked on mine. “That report is what the case is. What exactly do you think I’m hiding?” “You know what.” I held her gaze just as hard. “If you actually care about Valencia as much as you say you do, stop wasting his time.” Angel’s jaw tightened. “If I really wanted to deceive you, did I need to spend five years on this myself?! I could’ve closed the case on any excuse I wanted!” I tilted my chin up slightly. “Which only tells me that what you wanted wasn’t just a closed case.” The hate online was torrential. Comment after comment calling me ungrateful, saying I was throwing away a devoted and dutiful wife. The department’s negotiators started rotating through different accounts, sending me private messages, gentle and persistent, trying to talk me down. I ignored all of it. I sat at the edge of the pit, tapping the ground with the shovel, over and over. “Time’s up.” I stood. Valencia stared up at me, eyes stretched wide with terror. “Endrick!” A voice — elderly, sharp, commanding — cut through the feed. I spun around. There, in front of the camera, was a woman in a dress. Older, but sharp-eyed and upright. “Meredith?” My mother-in-law. Angel’s mother.

“Meredith. What are you doing here?” My mother-in-law stood in front of the camera, leaning on her cane, her face a portrait of disappointment. “Child, how can you be so thoughtless?” “Angel has barely been home these past five years because of Alice’s case. Can’t you just make things a little easier for her?” I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “So you’re saying I’m the one being unreasonable?” She sighed and struck the floor with her cane. “There are bigger things at stake here. Think about appearances! The way you’re carrying on — how is Angel supposed to hold her head up at work after this?” “No — you’re the ones who are completely unreasonable!” I pointed at the camera, my composure starting to crack. “That was my daughter! She wasn’t a tool for your family to cash in on for status and career advancement!” “A living person is gone, and you’re here talking to me about the bigger picture?” “When Angel was pregnant, it was YOU who said a girl was a waste, who told her she had to have a son!” “And now that Alice is gone, this is how you treat me?” Meredith’s face went red. Then the fury hit. “You — you’re talking nonsense! This is completely outrageous!” I laughed. I reached down and yanked the rag out of Valencia’s mouth. “Hel—” He barely got a sound out before I picked up a bag of quicklime sitting nearby, tore a slit in it, and held it over his battered, blood-soaked face. “Valencia,” I said, my voice quiet and cold. “Do you remember — three days before Alice disappeared, five years ago — why you went with Angel to the clinic for that procedure?” Valencia’s crying stopped instantly. His pupils contracted to pinpoints. Meredith leaned in close to the camera. Her voice was unsteady. “You — you’re making wild accusations! When did Valencia and Angel ever go to a clinic like that?!” Valencia caught up a second later and started screaming. “You’re lying! I never did that! Mom, he’s lying!” I stared into the screen. “So you’re vouching for him too?” She flinched, then quickly rebuilt her righteous expression. “Endrick! Baseless accusations like this will only add to your charges!” I let out a cold laugh and checked the time. “You’ve burned through two chances.” “Third chance. One hour. Clock starts now.” I sat back down and traced slow circles in the dirt with the shovel. Angel paced in front of the camera, going back and forth, whispering urgently with Meredith. With ten minutes left, I started counting down out loud. “Five hundred and forty… five hundred and thirty-nine…” “There is nothing to find! What do you want from me?!” Angel was coming apart. The comments raged alongside her: [She would’ve handed it over already if it existed! He’s trying to force her to fabricate evidence so he can destroy her career!] [Exactly! What kind of father is this? How does he deserve a child?] [Absolutely vile. This broke my whole view of people.] “Ten… nine…” “Endrick!!” “Eight… seven…” “Endrick, snap out of it!” “Six…” “Daddy!” A small, childlike voice drove itself into my chest like a blade. My whole body locked up. I shot to my feet. A little girl, five or six years old, appeared on screen, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. “Alice…”

“Daddy!” On camera, a little girl who looked just like my daughter, crying like her heart was breaking. “Alice, how are you here? You were taken — you were gone.” My mind went blank. This couldn’t be real. “Daddy! I left on my own! It wasn’t Mom’s fault! It wasn’t Valencia’s fault!” My vision sharpened instantly. The comment section detonated: [Oh my GOD. The twist!! The kid ran away herself this whole time?!] [I knew it. This guy looked unstable from the start. The control issues, the obsession — of course the kid couldn’t handle it. Of course she ran.] [What kind of failure as a father does it take to push your own daughter away like this? And now he’s doing this?? Unreal.] I gripped the shovel tighter. “Alice, don’t be scared. Talk to me. Tell me what really happened. Where have you been?” “Did someone tell you to say this?” The girl cried harder. “No! I hate you! You made me study this and practice that every single day. I had no freedom at all. I hate you!” Angel pulled the girl into her arms and looked at me through the screen, her eyes full of bitter fury. “Endrick! You heard her! It was you! Your suffocating, relentless love drove Alice away!” I let out a sudden, easy laugh. “Angel. Where’d you find this little actress?” [Seriously?? That’s your DAUGHTER and you still won’t believe her?!] [Now I know where all those oblivious male leads in bad novels come from. Life really does imitate fiction.] [Does he have some kind of cognitive issue? He literally can’t recognize his own kid?] “Endrick! She’s your child and you won’t even take her word for it?! Do you have any humanity left?!” Angel was shaking with outrage. I just grabbed Valencia by the hair and turned his ruined face toward the camera. I lifted the bag of quicklime, tilted it slowly over his head. White powder sifted down in a thin stream. I smiled. “Angel. These past five years — did you really think the light in your study at midnight was for work?” Angel’s eyes went wide. “Third chance — gone.” I raised the bag high, aiming directly for Valencia’s eyes. “Daddy!!” The girl suddenly held up a small voice recorder. “This is what Alice recorded for you!”

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I opened my eyes again. The cold still clung to my skin. The terror from my final moments — that suffocating grip on every nerve — hadn’t left me yet. I was locked in a psychiatric facility. So how am I back here, on the day I married Ethan? I’ve been reborn. A rush of wild joy swept through me. Does this mean I can change the fate of myself and my family? In my past life, Ethan had crushed my entire family into bankruptcy — all for the sake of his first love. Then, after he’d destroyed everything we had, he had me committed. The orderlies were free to do whatever they wanted to me. I died slowly, broken, in the cold of a winter night. This time around, I had spent my days scouring the world for women who looked like her — like Catherine, his precious first love. This time, I want to see for myself just how unshakeable this great love of yours really is. In my past life, Ethan and I married as part of a business arrangement between our two families. At first, we managed a civil enough distance. Then his first love, Catherine Cole, came back from abroad — and everything changed. I didn’t care how many women he kept on the side. Our marriage was a bridge between the Song family and the Lu family, and that was all it needed to be. But I underestimated how cruel people could be. And I overestimated how much that bridge meant to him. All it took was Catherine saying she refused to get involved with a married man. That one sentence was enough for Ethan to make up his mind. He planted spies inside my family’s company, stole our most valuable technology, then turned around and accused us of wrongdoing. He drove the Song Group into bankruptcy. My brother and my father were sent to prison. When my mother heard the news, she stepped off the roof of the Song Group building. And me — I went after Ethan with nothing left to lose. He had me committed to a psychiatric facility for it. I endured the orderlies’ endless cruelty until one winter night, they left me outside in the cold and I never came back in. Thinking about it now, I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek until I tasted iron. Ethan. This life, it’s your turn to pay. After the wedding, Ethan and I moved into his villa up in the hills. I hadn’t noticed before, but the whole place was soaked in memories of him and Catherine. The pink stuffed animals on the couch. The bow-tied curtains. The sweet floral diffuser in the bathroom. Eight years, and he’d kept every trace of their life together perfectly intact. First thing the next morning, I called the housekeeper and had all of it removed. When Ethan woke up and found the house completely transformed, he came at me furious. “What did you do? You completely rearranged my house without even asking me?” I looked at him with a calm smile, mockery tucked just beneath the surface. “Your house? We’re married — I live here too. Why can’t I change what I don’t like?” I tilted my head. “Or are you saying you never actually intended to make this marriage work?” Ethan’s move against my family wouldn’t come for another two years. Right now, he still needed the Song family’s support, so he had no choice but to swallow his anger. “I’m sorry. I lost my temper. That was out of line.” He stared at me, his words slow and deliberate. I pretended not to notice the fury in his eyes. I didn’t even bother responding. After breakfast, I went back to the office at Song Group. My brother, Marcus, looked up in surprise when he saw me walk in. “Why didn’t you take a few more days? Aren’t you two supposed to be on your honeymoon?” I laughed it off. “I wasn’t feeling it. I’m young — I have plenty of time to travel. Right now I’d rather be building something.” Marcus shook his head with a grin and gave me a light knock on the head. “Relax. Even if you turned out to be completely useless, I’d still take care of you.” My throat tightened. I almost cried right there. My brother. This wonderful, ridiculous man. In my last life, he ended up in prison because of me, beaten so badly he walked with a permanent limp. I pushed the rage back down and called my assistant over. I handed her a photo and a USB drive. “Find me at least five women who look as close to this person as possible.” “Have them study the videos on that drive. Every gesture, every expression — I want them to learn how she moves, how she smiles.” “It has to be convincing. So convincing that even I can’t tell them apart from the real thing.” What I was doing didn’t stay secret from my parents or Marcus for long. At dinner, my father glanced at me carefully, then finally spoke up. “Ava… who is this woman you’ve been looking for?”

I swallowed my food and answered quietly. “Ethan’s first love. He never got over her.” I set down my fork. “I figured — why wait for her to show up and blow everything apart? Better to get ahead of it. Kill it before it starts.” My parents exchanged a long look. Neither of them spoke. Marcus stepped in. “Ava’s handling her own marriage, and she’s doing it for a reason. Our job is to have her back.” He glanced at me. “When has she ever done anything without thinking it through?” I shot him a grateful look. My parents didn’t push further, though the worry never left their eyes. That evening, I came home to find Ethan on the couch, looking dark. I had no interest in engaging. I walked straight past him and headed upstairs. The sound of glass shattering stopped me on the stairs. “Ava. We’ve been married one week. Is it too much to ask where you’ve been?” His voice rose. “I came home expecting to have dinner with you. I waited three hours!” I turned and looked at him, my voice flat. “Ethan, this is a business arrangement. What exactly did you think was going to happen — that we’d actually build a life together?” I held his gaze. “And for the record, don’t wait on me for dinner. I’m not here to cater to you.” I ignored the crash of something else hitting the floor behind me and locked my bedroom door. Three months later, my assistant reported back: the women were ready. She asked me to come review them. Five near-identical versions of Catherine stood in the dance studio, lined up and waiting. They greeted me politely in unison. “Miss Song.” The college student — Zoe — was the most convincing of them all. The moment Ethan spotted her at the charity auction, something shifted in him. “Catherine?” I watched his hand tighten around the railing. “What’s wrong?” I asked, playing innocent. A flicker of something crossed his face. “Nothing. I thought she was someone else.” He didn’t say another word for the rest of the evening. I spent the night happily putting Ethan’s credit card to good use, bidding on a necklace I’d had my eye on — a massive, deep blue sapphire pendant they called the Heart of the Ocean. Zoe brought it to me with both hands, her head slightly bowed. Her hair smelled like gardenia, which was exactly the scent I’d told her to wear. Catherine’s scent. That same night, Zoe messaged me. Ethan had already reached out to her. The fish had taken the bait. After meeting Zoe, Ethan stopped coming home. He set her up in a private villa on the outskirts of the city. Two months later, I arranged for another Catherine lookalike to apply for the position of his personal assistant. She got the job without a hitch. Then came the elder Mr. Lu’s birthday. Ethan came to pick me up — but someone was already sitting in the passenger seat. His new personal assistant, Jessica. Catherine number two. I stood outside the car, arms folded, and just looked at him. Jessica played her role perfectly, greeting me with a bright smile. “Ma’am, Mr. Lu says I’m required to accompany him at all times. I hope that’s not a problem?” I made a show of irritation and fixed her with a cold look. “Get out.” She reached for the door handle, but Ethan’s hand shot out and stopped her. “Stay where you are. That’s your seat.” Then he turned to me. “If you don’t want to ride with us, you’re welcome to drive yourself.” I turned and walked toward the garage. That was exactly what I’d been waiting for him to say. By the time I arrived at the Lu estate, everyone was already assembled. Jessica stood at Ethan’s side, playing the gracious companion as he greeted guests. When I walked in, the room went quiet. Jessica moved to greet me — and managed to splash red wine all over my dress. Every person in that room read it the same way: Ethan’s mistress putting his wife in her place. Ethan stepped forward and put himself between us, shielding her. “Jessica didn’t mean it. Just go change.” I didn’t say a word. I simply looked at both of them. Sensing the tension, Ethan’s mother cut in and slapped him on the arm. “Who told you to bring someone like this to a family event?” To his credit, Ethan wasn’t stupid enough to embarrass his parents over a kept woman. He hesitated, then quietly told the butler to see Jessica out. Her eyes went glassy, and she looked up at him with the expression of someone trying very hard not to cry. “Behave. I’ll come find you when this is over.” Then he shot me a look of pure disdain — as if I were the one responsible for her being sent away. Everyone present could see exactly what he was doing. He was humiliating me, and he wasn’t trying to hide it. On the drive home after the banquet, with the elder Mr. Lu present, I brought up the matter of compensation. “What you do on your own time is your business. But if you want me to keep covering for you, that’s a separate conversation.” Ethan had drunk more than usual. He let out a short, contemptuous laugh. “Ava. You really do have a price for everything.” I didn’t flinch. “I want the position of Director of Human Resources at Lu Group. Is that unreasonable?” He opened his eyes and looked at me sideways. “What would you want that for?” The elder Mr. Lu cut him off with a quiet nod in my direction. I understood. It was his apology for his grandson’s behavior. And his way of asking me not to make a scene.

In the days that followed, I installed Catherine number three as a live-in housekeeper at the hill villa. Then I arranged for Catherine number four to take up a regular spot at the bar Ethan liked to visit. Each of them had her own personality — but every one of them moved with a trace of Catherine in the way she carried herself. Every single one of them pulled at something in Ethan he couldn’t control. He welcomed all of them, one by one. But after a while, even the things you’re drawn to start to lose their pull. Ethan began coming home more often. That irritated me. I did the math. Catherine would be back in the country in six months. It was time to make sure he was completely, thoroughly worn out on her face before she arrived. His university’s alumni anniversary was coming up. As his wife, I was expected to attend. I planned something special for the occasion. I’d heard the story of how they first met — at a campus gala. Catherine was the emcee. Ethan, as student body president, was called up to give a speech. As they passed each other on stage, she turned her ankle. That stumble was where it all began. I decided to recreate it. Catherine number five was booked as the emcee for the event. Right on cue, she stumbled as she passed Ethan — and fell neatly into his arms. But something unexpected happened. Ethan paused for only a moment. He didn’t seek her out afterward. If anything, he surprised me completely. After the speech, he walked directly toward me, took my hand, and led me over to the faculty members and administrators gathered nearby. “I’d like you all to meet my wife, Ava. I wanted to take the opportunity to introduce her to the people who’ve meant the most to me here.” I smiled and greeted them warmly. One of the professors — an older man — chuckled and said, almost to himself, “Didn’t you spend half your university years chasing after that girl… what was her name, Catherine? You two were absolutely inseparable.” “Half a semester, you were skipping my class for dates. If I hadn’t gone easy on you, you would have failed.” Ethan took it in stride, laughing and making an apology to his old professor. Still, I wanted to be thorough. To make certain that face had completely lost its hold on him. On the drive home that night, Ethan had been drinking. I suggested we walk a little to clear his head. He agreed easily enough. We were passing a narrow alley when a woman’s voice rang out from the darkness — crying for help. The voice was identical to Catherine’s. Ethan grabbed my hand and told me to call the police. Then he went in himself. By the time the police wouldn’t have even arrived, he was already walking back out — with Catherine number five in his arms. But the moment he got her to the hospital and made sure she was settled, he turned to leave, pulling me along with him. I was surprised. “You’re not going to stay with her?” He gave me an odd look. “Do we know her? We helped her — that doesn’t mean we’re responsible for her. Come on, let’s go home.” I let myself smile. When the white-moonlight fantasy stops working, what comes next isn’t indifference. It’s revulsion. On my instructions, Zoe — who had recently been broken up with — began making a scene. Every day, she packed a homemade lunch and waited outside Ethan’s office building, eyes red-rimmed and brimming. One afternoon, Ethan happened to be walking a client out when she spotted him and ran over, not caring who was watching. “Ethan, please don’t do this. You said you’d love me forever — were you lying?” The clients turned to stare. The expressions on their faces said everything. Ethan’s face went through several shades. He shook her off hard. “Security — get her out of here!” Zoe stumbled and hit the ground. The carefully packed lunch she’d brought him scattered across the pavement. Afterward, she sent me a message confirming it was done. I raised my glass. Ethan. This is only the beginning.

The second one to cause a scene was Jessica. Ethan and I had just come home from a dinner event when we found her blocking the entrance to the villa. He’d spoiled her. She knew it. She yanked open the car door and pulled me out by the arm before either of us had a chance to react. I stumbled and barely caught myself. “Jessica, what the hell—” Her eyes were red. Her voice shook with barely contained fury. “You said you’d never fall for her! You said you only loved me! You said I could do whatever I wanted!” The tears came then, fast and uncontrolled. “I’m not accepting this breakup. If you leave me, I’ll kill myself.” That woke Ethan’s temper up fast. He stepped in front of me, then turned and slapped Jessica hard across the face. “Don’t ever threaten me. You want to? Go ahead.” His coldness chilled something inside me. This was the same man who, in another life, had turned on me after two years together without blinking. Even for someone he’d actually cared about, he could walk away without hesitation. His assistant called shortly after — Jessica had gone home and slit her wrists. Ethan’s only response was to mutter that it was bad luck. He didn’t go see her. He didn’t even look up. Just sat there looking mildly inconvenienced. Two months left before Catherine’s return. I was getting anxious. I couldn’t let last time repeat itself. To be sure, I had the remaining lookalikes turn up the pressure — pushing every boundary until, within a single week, Ethan ended things with all of them. That evening, Marcus called me out for dinner. He leaned back in his chair and gave me a look that was almost reproachful. “Ava, since you moved into Lu Group, I’ve noticed you’ve been pulling some of our people over there.” He paused. “Can you tell me why?” I stared at him. My grip tightened on my fork. After a long pause, I finally spoke. “What if I told you that Ethan is going to come after us? Would you believe me?” Marcus went still. “How could you know that? Did he do something to you?” My eyes burned. I felt the tears coming before I could stop them. So I told him everything. The whole truth — the other life, the rebirth, all of it. I wasn’t sure he’d believe me. But the secret had been crushing me for months. I couldn’t carry it anymore. What I didn’t expect was for him to stand up immediately and pull me into a hug. “Ava. I’m so sorry. You’ve been carrying all of this alone.” I grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and finally let myself fall apart — crying until I couldn’t breathe, letting out everything I’d been holding back across two lifetimes. When I finally steadied, Marcus asked what my plan was. “I’m not completely sure whether Ethan went after us purely because of Catherine or whether there were other factors. But we can’t afford to assume anything.” I steadied my voice. “The people I moved from Song Group to Lu Group — they’re the same employees who sold our core technology last time. Given how greedy they are, a little persuasion is all it’ll take to get them selling Lu Group’s secrets back to us instead.” “And Jessica already handed over everything she could access — evidence of Lu Group’s connections to some very questionable business dealings.” “This time, we’re going to be ready. By the time we’re done, Ethan won’t have anything left to stand on.” Marcus held my shoulder and told me not to worry. This time, he promised, he would protect me. The two months passed quickly. The contact I’d placed near Catherine sent word: she’d bought a return ticket. She’d be landing next Monday. That night, I overheard Ethan on the phone. His voice was calm, measured — but he agreed to pick her up from the airport. At arrivals, the moment Catherine saw Ethan, her eyes lit up. But Ethan — something was different. The instant he saw her face, an inexplicable irritation rose inside him and didn’t stop climbing.

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