I was on my way to meet a client when I tapped open the GPS. A syrupy, flirtatious female voice purred from the speakers. “Hehe, your darling Robin is ready to start our little journey, just the two of us. It’s like we’re running away together~” I slammed on the brakes, my chest hitting the steering wheel. The voice chirped on. “Up ahead is a convenience store with Robin’s favorite cookies. Please, please buy some for me~” I froze. Listening to that voice, I dialed my husband’s number. “Patrick,” I asked, “have you used the Porsche recently?” On the other end, his tone was as gentle as ever. “My car broke down a few days ago, so I took it for a spin. Why? What’s up, honey?” “Nothing,” I said with a tight smile, then hung up and drove straight to his office. 1 I rarely visited Patrick’s company. I’ve always believed that trust is the cornerstone of a marriage. I didn’t want to suspect him, but that GPS voice echoed relentlessly in my mind. I was sitting in his office, having just asked HR to bring me the files of every new female employee, when Patrick walked in. “Honey,” he said, a playful grin spreading across his face as he sat down opposite me. “Keeping tabs on me, are we?” He leaned forward. “Find anything interesting?” Tapping his fingers on the desk in a lazy rhythm, he added, “If you don’t, you’ll have to make it up to me. I’m thinking you can take me skydiving.” Looking at his open, disarming smile, I felt a pang of guilt. Maybe I was being paranoid, too small-minded. The personnel files revealed nothing. There wasn’t even a new hire with the last name associated with “Robin.” Had I really overreacted? I pushed the files aside and met his teasing gaze, sighing. “It was just a routine check.” I slid the stack of folders toward him. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t do it again.” Patrick’s expression immediately softened into a placating smile. “Uncomfortable? Honey, the fact that you care this much about me… I couldn’t be happier.” Patrick was always like that. A titan in the boardroom, but with me, he was like a boy. Even when I was in the wrong, he’d be the first to apologize, determined to keep me perpetually cherished and adored. I shouldn’t have doubted him. I followed him home. As he carried groceries into the kitchen, I headed to the study to finish some work. Just then, his phone, left on the desk, buzzed to life. I was about to call out to him when the caller ID caught my eye. My breath hitched. I picked up the phone and answered. That same, sickeningly familiar voice filled the air. “Jules, oh, Jules! My numbers for the second half of the year are all riding on that big deal of yours! The boss praised me today, I owe you a huge thank you for that.” My heart clenched. “I heard the tigress was on the prowl today,” she continued with a giggle. “So, give me the all-clear, Jules. What’s the situation on your end?” The contact name read “Robin – Silver Creek.” She was calling my husband Jules. Not even the old guard from when the company started dared to be so familiar; they all called him Mr. Sterling. No one, no matter how close, spoke to him like that. But now, this woman… She paused, a note of hesitation in her voice. “Jules? Are you there? Why aren’t you answering? Is the connection bad?” The line suddenly went dead. I stared, pale-faced, at Patrick, who was still humming to himself in the kitchen. A memory surfaced—his recent, sudden interest in wine tasting. A new partnership that had appeared on the company’s roster, a winery that made no strategic sense. I had asked him about it. Why the sudden change in direction? “It doesn’t matter the industry,” he’d told me, his eyes soft as he looked at me. “If there’s a pie, I want a slice. I’m going to make my wife the happiest woman in the world, give her the best life imaginable.” The memory, once so sweet, now felt like a vicious slap, shattering the beautiful illusion of our marriage and all my hopes for it. Patrick. How far had he and this woman gone? 2 Huddled in the study, Robin’s voice replayed in my head. I remembered going with Patrick to a winery event once, but I couldn’t recall meeting anyone named Robin. I opened a chat with my best friend, Maya. [Can you run a check on Silver Creek Vintners? And Patrick.] My hands trembled as I typed, a cold dread creeping up my spine. [I need everything. All of Patrick’s recent transactions and his full itinerary.] The tears welled up, but I stubbornly blinked them back, forcing myself to be rational. [I think Patrick is having an affair.] The moment I hit send, Patrick’s voice came from behind me. “Honey.” He walked over, his face etched with apology. “Something’s come up at work, a project emergency,” he said, his tone strained. “I know I promised I’d be with you tonight, but they can’t handle it, and I really have to go.” He stroked my hair. “I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.” He was holding his phone, the screen still lit up, a chat window open. I grabbed his hand, my voice tight. “Can’t you stay?” Normally, he would have heard the tremor in my voice. He would have seen the unsent message on my screen, the raw vulnerability in my eyes. But not tonight. His focus was split between the door and the text messages he was still typing. He just answered with strained patience. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t make this difficult.” His voice was tinged with an urgency I’d never heard before. “Honey, you’re always so understanding. Please, don’t put me in a tough spot.” It was as if all the air had been sucked out of me. I sat there, a deflated balloon, watching as he rushed out without even a proper goodbye. The tears finally fell, silent streams carving paths down my cheeks. It was true. There was no such thing as a faithful cat in a world full of cream. My phone rang. It was Maya. “Okay, I’ve got something,” she said, her voice grim. “Patrick personally financed and pushed a new project with Silver Creek. The whole thing stinks.” A file appeared in my chat. “Everyone at Silver Creek is talking about it. How Patrick’s throwing money around to promote some girl. No one there dares to even look at her sideways.” Maya’s voice turned to ice. “They’re having a ‘celebration dinner’ tonight. At the Hawthorne Hotel.” “Patrick didn’t go, did he?” The last sliver of hope inside me shattered. I looked at the dinner Patrick had prepared—the perfectly peeled shrimp, my favorite sweet soup, the single rose laid beside my plate. And then I remembered his words from earlier that morning. “Honey! Did you forget? Today’s our anniversary.” Our wedding anniversary. And he still chose someone else. He still left me here alone, even after I begged him, told him I didn’t want him to go. He walked away, toward the person who was clearly occupying all of his thoughts. “I’m going to the Hawthorne,” I told Maya. “Even if this is the end of my marriage, I deserve to know who I lost to.” I had imagined it a thousand times—the kind of woman I might lose him to. Someone sophisticated and elegant, or maybe someone young, vibrant, and full of sunshine. I never, ever imagined this. When I saw her, sitting next to Patrick, clinging to his arm and cooing his name, she was shockingly plain. The kind of face you’d never remember seeing in a crowd. She had no grace, her clothes were ordinary, and her hair was tied back messily. She was bare-faced, beaming up at him. “Jules,” she whined, “they’re trying to make me drink.” She pouted, pointing at the other executives at the table. “I told them my knight in shining armor would protect me, but they didn’t believe me. They said you had to come and deal with them yourself.” Inside the private room, the laughter was slick with insincere compliments. “You’ve gotta hand it to Robin, she knows how to pick ’em. When she finally decides on a man, she lands a whale.” 3 “And a romantic one at that!” a portly man slurred, raising his glass. “Everyone in the industry knows Patrick Sterling would choose the girl over the glory, hahaha.” “Damn right,” another chimed in. “So, Robin, aren’t you going to join us in a toast to your hero?” My feet were rooted to the spot, my hand frozen on the door. Patrick was allergic to alcohol. He never drank. At every social function, I was the one on the front lines, his shield. Now, I watched as Robin giggled. “Oh, I don’t drink. My Jules wouldn’t want me to. Right, Jules?” She snuggled against his arm, and to my horror, Patrick actually picked up his glass, his gaze cool as he met the other man’s eyes. “Robin isn’t drinking,” he said flatly. “If you need a toast, Mr. Chen, you can have one with me.” He downed the glass in one go. The room erupted in cheers. Robin, her cheeks flushed, praised him for being her hero. Patrick just smiled that indulgent smile and pinched her cheek. It felt as if a dull, rusty blade was being dragged across my skin, carving one hideous, terrifying gash after another. I could feel the blood welling up from those wounds, could feel myself being torn to shreds, and yet, a small, insane part of me was still whispering, maybe there’s a misunderstanding. Maya, seeing me sway, grabbed my arm, ready to storm in. “That son of a bitch!” she hissed. “I’m going to kill him!” I held her back. I pulled out my phone and dialed Patrick’s number. I was clinging to one last, desperate hope. I wanted to hear it from him. I wanted him to tell me there was some other explanation. I watched him pick up his phone from the table, his expression shifting as he glanced at Robin. Robin didn’t hesitate. She reached over and pressed the red decline button. Then she wrapped her arms around his again. “You promised,” she whispered, her lower lip trembling just so. “You said you’d have my back.” She looked at him, her gaze stubborn and demanding. I stubbornly redialed, again and again. The screen on the table lit up, went dark, lit up again, until finally, Patrick made his choice. “Right,” he sighed, a note of resignation in his voice. “I promised you.” He placed his phone face down, severing my last connection. Robin’s triumphant smile was the final straw that broke me. I nearly collapsed, but a sliver of cold, hard reason cut through the agony. “The cameras,” I rasped, my voice shaking as I pointed to a security camera in the corner of the hallway. “Get the footage. I want the evidence.” Looking from the camera to Patrick’s face, which was already paling from the alcohol, I told Maya, “He made his choice. Now I’ll make sure he lives to regret it.” Back in Maya’s car, I scrolled through the files she had pulled. There were photos of Patrick and Robin on trips, hiking and laughing. Robin’s Instagram was a meticulously crafted web, weaving a love story for her and Patrick, a story in which I had no part. I saw a video from last month, while I was away on a business trip. Robin was sitting in my Porsche, recording herself. “Hey fam!” she chirped at the camera. “So hubby’s car broke down, so he bought this new one. It’s a little… feminine for him, so I’m planning a little surprise!” She recorded the custom GPS greeting and then put a finger to her lips, winking at the lens. “What do you think? Will my hubby like his surprise? And will he buy his favorite girl some cookies?” Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I kept scrolling. I found a post from the day I was at the clinic for an IVF consultation. Robin had been at the same OB/GYN clinic. In her picture, she was holding up a lab report, a bashful look on her face. The caption read: “Your girl is a month and a half late! What do you guys think? Is it just a wacky cycle, or…” She added a winking emoji. “Is your girl about to become a mommy?!” “That conniving little bitch!” Maya slammed her hand on the steering wheel. But I was strangely calm, the initial storm of pain and rage having passed, leaving behind a chilling clarity. “Patrick has a low sperm count,” I told her, my voice flat.

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In my loneliest year, I sponsored a handsome young actor. A boyfriend, of sorts. Later, when I had to go abroad for my health, he cried by my bedside all night, begging me to let him come with me. I refused. “Your career is taking off here,” I told him. “I hope that by the time I come back, I’ll see you holding a Best Actor award.” Three years later, he did just that. He was crowned. But he wasn’t there to welcome me back as he’d promised. Instead, I found his little canary, wearing my clothes, lording over my estate. Lina Burns twirled my white jade ring on her finger. “You should thank me. A girl like you would never see a place like this in her life. But look all you want. Just don’t touch anything. You couldn’t afford to replace it.” I slid the ring, my ring, off her finger and slapped her across the face. “I touched it. Now what?” 1 Lina was stunned. This was a reality show, filming a day in the life of a celebrity in their lavish home. And I had just slapped the guest star, on camera. The live chat was already exploding. [WHO IS THIS PIG?! How dare she come into Lina’s house and hit her!] [Where are the fan club members on set?! Are you all dead?! Go slap that bitch back!] [Hold on! We’re arguing with security now! As soon as we get past the barricade, we’ll get revenge for Lina!] “You… you dare hit me!” Lina had clearly been coddled her whole life. Her eyes were wide with disbelief, her voice trembling on the verge of tears. “Do you have any idea who I am?!” “What’s going on?” A familiar tall, long-legged figure appeared in the doorway. Lina turned and threw herself into his arms. “Dennis!” Dennis Pierce frowned, gently touching the red handprint on her cheek. He turned his head, and the moment he saw me, his breath caught in his throat. “You’re… you’re back?” I stared at him, my expression cold as ice, waiting for an explanation. A producer scurried over to Dennis, looking flustered. “Mr. Pierce, do you know this woman?” “I do,” Dennis admitted. Lina looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears. The members of her fan club stared, dumbfounded. “She’s just a groupie,” Dennis said flatly. “Used to be a fan. After I turned her down, she just… kept following me.” For a second, I thought I’d misheard him. But everyone else visibly relaxed. [Jesus! I thought they actually knew each other! I was so scared this bitch was gonna try and steal Lina’s man!] [LMAO, some obsessed fan followed the great Dennis Pierce all the way here. Pathetic.] [Our Dennis worked his ass off to get where he is today, and he found Lina, who struggled right alongside him. Does this psycho really think stalking him is going to work?] I let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Worked his ass off?” He knew. If I hadn’t spotted him at the film academy all those years ago, he never would have even set foot in this industry. At his lowest point, he had knelt before me, clutching his mother’s terminal diagnosis. “Please,” he’d begged, “help me…” My support continued right up until I left the country for treatment. And even though I hadn’t been by his side for these past three years, every single opportunity that came his way, every role that was ‘perfect’ for him, came from my direct influence. Including this hit reality show. But Dennis only hesitated for a second before pulling Lina closer into his embrace. “The only person I have to thank for my success is myself. What do you know about this industry, anyway?” I was so furious I started to laugh. If I didn’t understand the industry, how would I have known which resources were best for him? “Dennis Pierce.” My eyes were full of warning. “Get Lina Burns and these other irrelevant people out of my house. This is your last chance.” Three years had passed, but my authority over him still lingered. He still tensed up when I gave him that cold look. But only for a moment. “I think,” he said, his eyes narrowing, “you’re the one who needs to leave. This house belongs to Lina. Not you.” 2 The live chat erupted with laughter. [Is this psycho actually delusional? This show is about filming celebrities in THEIR mansions. The whole crew knows this estate belongs to our Lina. Does she think just because she’s obsessed with Dennis, she owns his girlfriend’s house too?] [This is beyond what a good therapist can fix.] [Did you see how confident she was when she said it was her house? Is there a cure for that level of crazy?] [Psychiatrist here. No cure. Just wait for the inevitable.] Seeing Dennis’s resolve, I nodded slowly. “Security. Strip that outfit off her and throw her out.” “What? You wouldn’t dare!” My bodyguards moved without hesitation, dragging Lina to the floor. The zipper on the velvet gown—my gown—was roughly pulled down. Dennis stepped forward, his brow furrowed. “Stop! That’s an illegal search!” “Is it?” I smiled. “Funny, I was just about to ask how my custom-made gown ended up on someone I don’t know. And since you’re the only other person who knows where it was, Mr. Pierce, have you thought about what you’re going to tell the police?” “I didn’t give it to her!” Dennis bit out, his jaw tight. “Dennis! Make them stop! I don’t want this! No! Ahhh!” Lina cried, reaching for Dennis. He ignored me completely and moved to pull her away. “Hold him down.” At my command, my other bodyguards forced Dennis to the ground, his head pressed against the polished floor. The veins in his forehead bulged. “Ava Croft! Don’t you dare touch her!” “Continue,” I said, my voice like ice. “NO!” Dennis’s eyes were wide with fury as he watched the gown being forcibly torn from Lina’s body. “What is all this noise?” an irritated voice demanded from the doorway. My eyes lit up. I spun around. “Brother!” Caleb Croft froze. “Caleb!” I rushed forward, eager to throw my arms around him in the big, welcoming hug we always shared after being apart for so long. But this time, I wasn’t met with a warm embrace. Instead, a sharp, stinging slap cracked across my face. Smack! I clutched my cheek, the burning pain so shocking I couldn’t react. It was only when I heard my brother’s cold, hard voice that I understood. “What did you do to my little sister?” I stared at him, bewildered. “Little… sister?” 3 “Caleb!” Lina, sobbing, threw herself into my brother’s arms. Looking at her tattered dress, the pain in Caleb’s eyes was so thick it was practically spilling out. I was still in disbelief. “Caleb…” Smack! Another slap, just as hard as the first. My head snapped to the side. My brother’s angry words hit me like stones. “It’s just a stupid dress! How could you be so cruel? To do this to a girl over a piece of cloth!” That’s when I knew. My brother was no longer my brother. “A piece of cloth?” My lips trembled. In that moment, I remembered Dennis’s desperate denial: “I didn’t give it to her!” Maybe… maybe he was telling the truth. Besides Dennis, there was one other person who knew the code to my walk-in closet. My brother. “You’re calling this a piece of cloth?” My voice shook. “Mom designed this for me herself, before she died! Have you forgotten?!” At the mention of our mother, Caleb’s expression faltered. But only for a second. His face hardened again. “No matter how important its meaning, it’s a dead thing. How can it compare to a living, breathing person? If Mom could see you hurting an innocent girl over a piece of cloth, she wouldn’t be on your side either!” My heart constricted. I clutched the fabric over my chest. “Get out! Get all of them out of my house!” My bodyguards stepped forward. “I’d like to see you try!” Caleb glared at them. “You all need to think very carefully about who the real future owner of the Croft Corporation is.” The bodyguards hesitated. I stared at him, aghast. Someone in the fan club snickered. “I’m dying! I can’t believe this psycho is actually a Croft!” “I heard the Crofts did adopt a child. Looks like this crazy bitch got lucky, being taken in by the richest family in the country.” “Everyone knows who the handsome CEO Caleb Croft is! He’s obviously the true blood heir. What’s this psycho shouting about? She brings a few bodyguards and thinks she can give orders to the master of the house? Hilarious.” Perhaps out of some last shred of familial feeling, Caleb had his men escort the gawking fan club members elsewhere. I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood. “Caleb Croft, you are an adopted son! My adopted brother!” Caleb’s brows drew together. The bodyguards were caught in the middle, unsure of what to do. “Think about it,” he said calmly. “Why did Ms. Croft adopt me? Wasn’t it because she needed someone to inherit the family business?” At his words, the bodyguards began to look thoughtful. “If you don’t want to be blacklisted in this industry, you’ll let Ms. Burns go. Now.” The bodyguard holding Lina paused, then actually released her. A dozen men who had been loyal to me for years now stood behind Caleb. I snatched a vase and hurled it to the floor. It shattered, sending shards of ceramic flying. Lina shrieked and shrank into Dennis’s arms. “Caleb Croft, I was wrong about you. Between you and me, it’s over. Just like this vase.” Caleb flinched. I stared him down. “But this house was a gift from my mother. None of you have the right to be here. You can either leave now, or I’ll call the police and have you arrested for trespassing. But before you go, Lina Burns leaves the dress.” Without waiting for a reply, I grabbed Lina’s shoulder and, with a loud rip, tore the dress from her body. She yelped and covered herself. But no one was looking at the dress. Even I was staring at her waist in shock. There, just above the curve of her backside, was a tattoo. A single, distinct word, branded into her skin: SLAVE.

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My new suspense novel went viral for one reason: the serial killer terrorizing the city was using my plotlines, murder for murder. Worse, each crime was committed ten minutes before my chapter went live. The day I finished the book, the police found the murder weapons in my house. I was named the prime suspect. My husband, Noah, sold his company to try and clear my name. But in the end, the evidence was ironclad. They convicted me. I was executed. Now, I’ve been reborn. And this time, I’m not finishing that damned book. There’s just one problem. My husband just told me his company is about to go bankrupt. He says he needs a massive cash injection to save it. Otherwise, he’ll have to jump off a bridge. 1 “Dee, don’t listen to that online bullshit. This book is a goldmine. You can’t stop now, you just can’t! They’re just jealous haters.” Hearing that familiar voice, I knew. I was back. Reborn. The person trying to convince me to keep writing was my best friend, Chloe. In this timeline, I had just finished writing about the second victim. His death was unique—sewn inside the belly of a pig and left to suffocate. Eerily, on the very day my chapter was published, the city’s real-life serial killer had done the exact same thing to his second victim. The first murder had also mirrored my book perfectly. The internet was in a frenzy, convinced the author—me—was the killer, drumming up publicity for my own novel. The police had visited my home multiple times, always leaving empty-handed. In my past life, I thought it was all absurd. How could a writer like me be tangled up with a murderer? That delusion lasted right up until I posted the final chapter. The police searched my house, found the weapons, and dragged me away as the prime suspect in a city-wide manhunt. I was in a state of shock, frantically trying to explain. “I’m just a writer! I couldn’t kill anyone!” My husband, Noah, was home. He was just as desperate, even trying to create a fake alibi for me. But the police investigation quickly proved he’d been out of the house during the murders. His lie only made me look guiltier. To clear my name, Noah sold his company, pouring everything he had into proving my innocence. But it was no use. Every piece of evidence pointed directly at me. And I had no explanation for the most damning fact of all: how the killer managed to replicate my methods, in real-time, with every single chapter I published. Online forums were calling for my head. [This author is sick. She’s so desperate for fame she started killing people? A whole string of them?] [She’s worse than an animal. What are we waiting for? Just put her down!] In the end, I was sentenced to death. On the day of my execution, Noah came to see me. He had just turned thirty, but his hair was completely white. A wave of pain crashed over me. Maybe God himself thought my death was an injustice. Maybe that’s why He gave me a second chance. This time, I would abandon the novel. I would just live a quiet life with Noah. But Chloe was still here, pushing me. “Let the police handle the murders. You’re a writer. Just write!” I shook my head. “I can’t. Too many people have died. Whether it’s connected to my book or not, I can’t keep going.” She looked horrified that I would just give up. “Dee, you’ve been writing for years! You finally have a hit, a real blockbuster! How can you just quit?” “Even if Noah can support you, you need to be able to support yourself! He says he loves you today, but what about tomorrow?” I walked over and hugged her tight. “Tomorrow, you can support me.” 2 Chloe and I grew up together. After college, I became a full-time writer while she went into sales. It was Chloe who introduced me to Noah. He was supposed to be her blind date, but she insisted on dragging me along. After the date, Noah confessed to Chloe that it was me he’d fallen for at first sight. I tried to explain, to smooth things over, but Chloe just waved it off. “Who doesn’t love a pretty face? I get it.” The next day, she flew to Korea. She came back a month later, and when I picked her up from the airport, she was stunning—a total bombshell. Later, at my wedding to Noah, Chloe hit it off with the best man: Larry Byrne, the heir to Byrne Industries. After the wedding, Noah was always warning me about her. “A guy like Larry has seen every kind of woman there is. He used to despise girls who’ve had work done, but Chloe has him wrapped around her little finger. That tells you how slick she is. And she comes from a sales background… you have no idea how cutthroat that world is. You need to be careful around her.” I’d always dismissed his concerns. Chloe would never hurt me. Now, as I hugged her, she seemed to soften. “What if,” she murmured, “one day I can’t support you either?” That evening, when Noah got home, I told him my decision to stop writing the novel. His hand paused as he was setting down his briefcase. His brow furrowed. “Was this Chloe’s idea? Did she tell you to stop?” He was so worked up, I found it almost funny. I teased him, “What if it was?” Noah slammed his briefcase onto the sofa. “I knew it! She can’t stand to see us happy!” Seeing how agitated he was, I quickly backtracked. “No, it was my idea. Every time I post a chapter, someone dies. I know it’s not my fault, but it feels awful. I thought maybe I could wait until the case is solved?” Noah hesitated, then took my hand. “But, honey… my company is about to go bankrupt.” I was stunned. In my previous life, I’d never heard a single word about his company having problems. His voice was muffled with stress. “It just happened today. Larry Byrne was supposed to invest in the new AI software we’re developing. We’ve already poured a ton of time and resources into it. Today, he just pulled the plug. I have to wonder if it’s because of Chloe…” The moment he mentioned her name, his voice rose, filled with agitation. “Did you see her today? Did you tell her you were thinking of quitting the book?” When I didn’t deny it, he barreled on. “I knew it. She’s still trying to get back at me. She hates me for choosing you over her!” I replayed the events of my past life in my head. I’d worked on that novel for over a month, and not once had Noah’s company been in trouble. Could it be true? Did my decision to stop writing really cause Larry to pull his investment? And if Chloe was involved, why would she do that? I pulled out my phone and called her. Her tone was clipped. “I don’t get involved in Larry’s business dealings. Besides, Noah and Larry grew up together. If Noah has a problem, why can’t he talk to Larry directly? This is between them. We should stay out of it.” Then she sighed. “Let me guess, Noah doesn’t want you to stop writing? For once, I’m on his side. What’s wrong with making more money? From the first day I met Noah, I knew he was no good. Actually, let me rephrase that. No man is any good.” I sighed. The animosity between Noah and Chloe was a constant I’d learned to live with. But now, reality was forcing my hand. I had to keep writing. Which meant I had to be careful. Very, very careful. 3 I thought about it for a long time and decided to change the murder methods from my previous life. A home invasion robbery, being sewn into a pig… the tools for those murders were too easy to find. I needed something new. Something impossible. I landed on it: being thrown from a helicopter. Let’s see the serial killer get his hands on a helicopter. With a solution in hand, I wrote like a woman possessed. By 9 PM, the new chapter was done. I hit the publish button, praying the killer would finally leave me alone. The forums exploded. [Thrown from a helicopter? Looks like the author is working overtime to clear her name!] [A helicopter isn’t exactly easy to come by. Think the killer can pull this one off?] [I still think she’s the killer. The crazier the murder method, the more clicks she gets. She’s earned a fortune from this book. Buying a helicopter would be chump change for her.] My heart leaped into my throat. Please, I prayed, don’t get a helicopter. I can’t be a murder suspect again. I was a nervous wreck all night, unable to sleep. The next day passed in silence. No news. It was the best news I could have hoped for. Noah breathed a sigh of relief. “See? It was all just a coincidence. I told you you were overthinking it.” The internet seemed to agree. [Guess the killer doesn’t have a chopper after all. The author really went to great lengths to prove her innocence!] [Okay, maybe she’s not the killer. The real murderer was just piggybacking on her fame.] That night, I slept soundly. But the next morning, a news alert lit up my phone. [CITY’S SERIAL KILLER STRIKES AGAIN. VICTIM THROWN FROM HELICOPTER AT 15,000 FEET.] My scalp went numb. I clicked the article. The victim’s time of death was just slightly before my chapter update. But because the body had been obliterated on impact, it wasn’t discovered until a dog walker found the remains this morning. I was losing my mind. I couldn’t understand how the killer knew my plot in adByrne. And how did he get a helicopter? This person had to have incredible resources. The police came again. And again, they found nothing. But I knew my time was running out. I asked Noah to check my computer, suspecting it had been hacked or bugged. How else could the killer know what I was going to write? Noah did a full sweep but found nothing. “If you’re still worried,” he said, “I’ll just buy you a new one.” I agreed. Next, I went back to the online forum thread that had started it all. It was now the number one trending topic in the city. I tracked down the username of the person who first connected the murders to my novel. My first victim in the book had been stabbed in the shower—a common trope. The second death was more bizarre, but in the long history of suspense fiction, what hasn’t been done? Why was this one user so intent on pinning it on me? I gave the username to Noah, asking him to trace the IP address. He tapped away at his keyboard for a few minutes, then spoke slowly. “The address is 188 Goldcrest Drive, on Riverside…” A chill ran down my spine. That was the house right next door to Chloe’s.

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I broke up with my boyfriend the year he was the most broke. A year later, he was a star, married to a girl prettier and more vibrant than I ever was. During a TV special, the host asked him, “You’ve swept the awards at such a young age. Do you have any regrets?” He pulled his wife, Stella, closer, his arm around her waist. “I’d just like to know,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, “how she’s doing now. After we broke up.” The host paused. “She’s… not doing well at all.” A slow, satisfied smile spread across Oren Pearce’s face. “Good. That sets my mind at ease.” “But… Ms. Nolan left behind a box of tapes before she died.” Oren’s smile froze. On the tapes were the days and nights of my life, from the moment I left him until the moment I died. 1 “Before she died?” Oren’s hand, resting on Stella’s waist, tightened for a fraction of a second. Then he let out a short, contemptuous laugh. “Is this part of the show? Some kind of gimmick?” The host simply shook his head. On the massive screen behind them, my face appeared. My smile. “Hey everyone, it’s Quinn! And as of today, I’m officially single!” The girl on the screen—her head shaved clean—was trying on a wig. “What’s that? You’re asking if I’m sad about dumping the sweet, handsome guy with a future brighter than the sun?” She looked at the camera and grinned. “Nah. What would be sad is him seeing me like this. Hahaha!” “Hey, why are you shaking? You’re making the shot all wobbly.” In the video, I reached out and steadied my best friend Tessa’s trembling hand. Tessa’s voice cracked. “I don’t want to do this… I’m going to cry my eyes out. I can’t film this…” “No way. You promised. You promised you’d document every single day until I’m gone.” “Can’t I back out?” Tessa pleaded, her voice thick with tears. “Nope!” I pouted. “My grand finale deserves the best director. I can’t trust anyone else with it.” Seeing she was still crying, I tugged at the corner of her shirt. “Come on, Tess. You’re all I have left in this world.” That only made her sob harder. “Fine, fine! I’ll film, okay? Just… stop.” 2 [So Long, World – April 17, 2023, 9:34 AM — You Can Take It All] After so many years, I was back at the old family house in the countryside. Tessa trailed behind me, phone in hand, as I walked our old golden retriever, Buddy, down a dirt path between fields. Her light laughter drifted on the breeze. “I was wondering why Oren suddenly posted that song on his story. It’s because you took Buddy, isn’t it?” I turned. “What song? I blocked him the day we broke up.” “That old breakup anthem. ‘Take It All’.” Tessa and I looked at each other for a moment, then burst into a fit of laughter and tears. “You can take it all, every single thing,” we sang, our voices shaky. “I’ll take what’s left of this broken mess.” “Just leave our dog, he’s my only friend…” Tessa was laughing so hard tears streamed down her face. “He didn’t want anything but the dog, and you didn’t take anything but the dog! Hahaha!” Our laughter echoed across the fields, slowly, painfully, dissolving into tears. 3 [So Long, World – April 17, 2023, 10:08 AM — Do Dogs Know You’re Leaving?] The old wooden door creaked open. I swatted away a spiderweb. “You know, ever since Oren and I moved to LA for college, I barely came back here. After Mom and Dad were gone, we took Buddy with us. This is the first time he’s been back.” The camera perspective shifted. Now I was holding it. “Hey, hey! It’s Quinn, and welcome to my immersive tour of the old family homestead!” Tessa, wearing an apron and holding a broom, scowled. “My lady, I’m the one doing all the work!” “I’m the patient! You have to spoil me!” After a round of laughter, I emerged from the kitchen, my face smudged with soot. Tessa snatched the spatula from my hand, her expression dark. “I told you, no cooking! Have you forgotten how bad you are at it? Out! Go sit down!” I coughed, a smile playing on my lips, and sat on the sofa. The moment Tessa was back in the kitchen, the smile vanished. I propped the phone up on the table and gasped for air, my chest heaving. My hand trembled as I took a few deep pulls from a small oxygen canister before turning back to the camera with a weak smile. “Sorry about that. The breathing thing… it’s been happening more and more lately. Ahem! I’m actually a great cook, you know. Really.” “Watch me brave the kitchen once more!” As I stood, a furry weight settled on my feet. The camera panned down. It was Buddy, his eyes droopy, lying on my sneakers. “You hungry, boy?” I offered him a piece of jerky. He took it gently, then lay back down on my feet, unmoving. “Come on, Buddy. I’m going to go check on Tessa. Up.” He didn’t budge. “What’s with you? You’re so clingy today.” I stroked his fur, which had grown coarse with age. “I get it. You’re getting old too, huh? Too tired to move? Okay, then. I’ll stay with you a little longer.” I leaned back on the sofa. “I won’t have many more chances to, anyway.” Buddy let out a low, soft whine. 4 [So Long, World – April 17, 2023, 11:21 AM — Is a House Still a Home with No One in It?] When I woke up on the sofa, Tessa was kneeling at my feet. She looked up when she heard me stir, her face slick with tears. “Quinn… they say that dogs can sense when their owner is about to leave, so they go on ahead to wait for them in the next life. Is that true?” The phone in my hand nearly fell. I scrambled to touch Buddy. He was still. There was no breath. He had passed away quietly, lying at my feet, while I had drifted off to sleep. I tried to laugh, but it came out looking more painful than a sob. “What are you talking about? Buddy was ten years old. It was just his time.” When the camera was on again, I was on the hill behind the house, patting down the earth on a small mound of dirt. My breathing was ragged, my face pale. Wiping sweat from my brow, I pointed back toward the house. “Home is straight that way. Don’t you lose your way, now. And whatever you do, don’t go to Oren’s…” I stopped myself. With a small, sad smile, I dropped my hand. “Actually, don’t go back. It’ll be empty soon enough. You just wait for me. We’ll build a new home down there, with Mom and Dad.” A sob came from behind the camera, making it shake. I looked up, smiling at the person holding it. “What are you doing? You can’t even hold the camera steady.” Tessa’s crying grew louder. “You’re the one! What are you saying?!” I laughed and beckoned to her. “Look at you. Come on, let’s go home. I’m ready for some of your famous cooking.” “Quinn! If you keep talking like that, I’m going to stop speaking to you!” I walked over, grinning, and slung an arm around her shoulder. “Don’t you worry. Your girl Quinn is invincible. This little cancer? Handled.” I made a little pinching gesture with my thumb and forefinger. “Hahahahahaha!” 5 [So Long, World – April 18, 2023, 8:27 AM — Sometimes, I Forget I’m a Patient] “Quinn! Quinn, open the door!” Tessa was pounding on the bedroom door. The camera was propped up nearby, angled awkwardly, capturing only her frantic legs. From inside the room, my voice, raw and broken, screamed, “Go away! I said, go away! Leave me alone!” The screaming was followed by the violent sounds of retching. Tessa sounded like she was about to cry. “Quinn, I’m going to break the door down! What’s wrong? Let me in!” “GO AWAY! JUST LET ME BE ALONE!” My heart-wrenching sobs echoed through the screen. Tessa threw her shoulder against the door. The old wood groaned and splintered open. Inside, I was knelt by the trash can, strands of hair matted to my face with vomit. I was a wreck, a ghost of the girl who had been laughing and singing just the day before. I looked up, my eyes bloodshot and filled with despair. “Tessa…” “Quinn.” She knelt, ignoring the mess, and pulled me into a fierce hug. My hands trembled as I wrapped them around her, burying my face in her shoulder, my tears soaking her shirt. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you… But sometimes, when I wake up, I forget. For a moment, I think I’m just… normal Quinn. And then I stare at the ceiling for what feels like forever until it hits me… I’m sick… I’m sick, Tessa…” I couldn’t speak through the sobs. Tessa held me tighter. “I know. It’s okay. It’s okay, Quinnie. You can get through this. You can… You’re… you’re Quinn Nolan, for God’s sake…” 6 [So Long, World – April 21, 2024, 4:34 PM — Sometimes, Forgetting Is a Kindness to the Departed] I was leaning on Tessa’s shoulder, my sleeve pushed up to reveal an arm covered in black-and-blue bruises. My voice was hoarse. “What am I going to do, Tess? They’re running out of places to stick the needle. It hurts so much.” “Oh, now you feel the pain? Where was this energy last night when you were up all night fighting for tickets?” I pouted. “I have to see my ex-boyfriend’s first major concert since he made it big, don’t I? It’s been a while. I need to see if his singing has improved.” Tessa fell silent. After a long moment, she nudged me. “You said you broke up with him because you didn’t want to be a burden. If he still has feelings for you… would you ask him for help now?” “Never.” My voice was firm. “But a single song of his can earn millions now. He could afford to get you the best treatment.” “Still no! And you’re not allowed to tell him, either!” “But, Quinn, right now you’re…” I put my hands on my hips, the IV line in my hand leaving a faint blue mark on my skin. “I’m fine right now! Besides, I dumped him when he had nothing. What would it look like if I came crawling back the second he made it, saying I was sick? No. Don’t worry.” I gave her a weak grin. “I’m Quinn Nolan! This little cancer? Handled.” I made the pinching gesture again. Tessa just watched me for a moment, then sighed. I waved her on. “Come on, let’s go. There’s no guarantee spending a fortune would even cure this. I’d rather use what I have left to enjoy myself. Let’s go, let’s go! We’re going to the amusement park tonight, right? But first, I found this amazing barbecue place…” “Oof!” I walked straight into someone. I was apologizing profusely when I looked up and saw his face. I froze, then stumbled back several steps. Tessa gasped. “Oren?” Even with the mask and sunglasses, I knew. You always know the eyes of the person you loved. “Quinn?” His handsome eyes, the ones that always seemed to smile, were wide with shock. Then, the shock hardened into anger. Resentment. Without a second thought, I turned and ran. The camera shook wildly as Tessa scrambled to follow me. A cancer patient was running faster than she ever had when she was healthy. Behind the sound of my ragged gasps for breath, a voice roared my name. “Quinn! Do you hate me that much?!”

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After I was reunited with my birth family, my “sister,” the girl who had taken my place, tearfully offered me her fiancé. “Lily,” she said, her voice a model of selfless understanding, “James is yours. I’ll step aside.” The moment she cried, the whole family turned on me with aching hearts and pointed fingers. I understood then. This family responded to weakness, not strength. So I dropped to my knees with a thud, my sobs louder and more desperate than hers. “Aurora, how can you step aside? If you do, James will blame me, Mom and Dad will blame me, and my brother will blame me! What’s the point of me even being alive?” I wailed, grabbing a fruit knife from the nearby table. “If you don’t agree to stay with him, I’ll die right here!” The entire family froze, their faces a mask of shock. Aurora, the fake heiress, was stunned speechless. A joke. When it came to crying, I was the undisputed queen. 1. In my first week back at the Sterling mansion, I felt like an alien who had crash-landed in someone else’s world. And Aurora Sterling, the girl who had lived my life for eighteen years, was the princess of that world. One day, a team of workers arrived, carrying ladders and cans of paint. They were going to repaint the entire villa in Aurora’s favorite shade: a soft, buttery cream. My room, originally a tasteful off-white, was on their list. I stopped the workers, my voice soft. “Could you please not paint my room?” Aurora drifted over at the sound of my voice, linking arms with our mother, her eyes already welling up. “Lily, don’t you like it? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t being thoughtful. I just thought you’d like a warm color, too.” Our mother’s brow furrowed as she looked at me. “Lily, Aurora meant well. Why are you being so ungrateful?” Our father put down his newspaper. “It’s just a bit of paint. It’s best if the whole house has a uniform style.” I looked at their entitled faces and understood. In this house, my opinion didn’t matter. Only Aurora’s tears did. Fine. My own eyes reddened, and my voice, thick with unshed tears, was even more wounded than Aurora’s. “Dad, Mom, I’m not ungrateful.” “I just heard… I heard that this was the nursery you prepared for me when I was a baby. This color… this was the color you chose for me with your own hands all those years ago.” I lifted my head, my eyes shimmering with tears I stubbornly refused to let fall. “I wanted to keep it… as if… as if I was never lost at all.” “I wanted to feel, just for a moment, what it would have been like if I had grown up with you.” My voice began to tremble, finally breaking into a choked sob. “I’m sorry. I’m being selfish. I shouldn’t have asked. Go ahead and paint it. Just… pretend I never came back.” The living room fell into a dead silence. The blame on my parents’ faces morphed into shock, then into a tidal wave of guilt. My mother pushed Aurora away and rushed to hug me. “My sweet girl, don’t cry, don’t cry. It’s Mommy’s fault. We’re so sorry.” My father roared at the workers, “Who told you to touch the young miss’s room? Nobody touches it! Get your things and get out!” My brother, Julian, who had just come downstairs, saw the scene and hurried to my side, awkwardly patting my back. “Lily, don’t cry. No one will dare touch your room.” Aurora stood frozen, her gentle expression stiffening on her face. She probably never imagined I would take her little trick and amplify it tenfold. She opened her mouth to speak, but I started crying harder. “Sister, please don’t be mad at me. I didn’t mean to make Mom and Dad angry, I just… I just can’t control myself.” With that one sentence, I preemptively blocked any accusation she could possibly make. If she said another word, she would be the one bullying the “victim”—the fragile, sensitive, long-lost daughter. The color drained from Aurora’s face, leaving it a sickly, mottled white. It was a beautiful sight. 2. After that day, no one mentioned painting the walls again. My room became the sole exception in this buttercream castle. Aurora lay low for a few days, but she was soon back to her old tricks. On her birthday, Julian gifted her a screaming-red Porsche, the keys nestled in a velvet box. Aurora shrieked with delight, hugging Julian’s arm and jumping for joy. “Thank you, brother! I love you so much!” The whole family watched her with beaming smiles. The atmosphere was warm and harmonious. I stood in the corner, an outsider. Julian’s gaze flickered over to me, a hint of discomfort in his eyes. He pulled another, smaller box from his pocket and handed it to me. “Lily, this is for you.” I opened it. It was a bracelet, clearly expensive, but compared to a Porsche, it was a pittance. A handout for a beggar. Aurora glanced at it, her words dripping with false generosity. “Wow, brother, you’re playing favorites. Lily’s gift is so beautiful too.” But the smug satisfaction in her eyes was unmistakable. I stared at the bracelet and didn’t take it. A tear escaped, then another. Not a loud sob, but a silent, steady stream. The laughter in the room died. All eyes were on me. I choked back a sob, my voice as light as a feather. “Brother, thank you. But… I can’t accept this.” Julian was stunned. “Why not?” I lifted my tear-filled eyes, my gaze a carefully crafted mix of inferiority, envy, and desolate sadness. “A girl like me, who grew up in the dirt… how could I ever be worthy of something so precious?” “My sister is a star in the sky. She deserves the best of everything. The sports car, the designer labels… it should all be hers.” “And me?” I let out a self-deprecating laugh, the tears flowing faster. “I’m just happy to have enough to eat and not cause you any trouble. I appreciate the thought, brother, but I’m truly not worthy of this gift.” I turned, covering my mouth to stifle my cries, and ran upstairs. My retreating figure was the loneliest, most tragic sight imaginable. Behind me, I heard Julian’s panicked voice. “Lily! That’s not it! Let me explain!” And my parents’ furious scolding. “Julian! What were you thinking? How could you treat them so differently?” Aurora’s hand, still holding the car keys, was frozen in mid-air. The smile on her face was uglier than a grimace. That night, Julian knocked on my door. His eyes were red, filled with guilt. “Lily, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” I sat by the window, hugging my knees, my eyes swollen like walnuts, and said nothing. He pushed a black card toward me. “There’s three million on this. It’s from me, to make it up to you. You can buy any car you want. Something even better than your sister’s.” I didn’t look at the card. I just stared out the window. “Brother, I don’t want things. I just… I just feel that in your hearts, I’ll never be as important as she is.” “It’s okay,” I whispered. “I accept it. After all, she was the one who was with you for eighteen years.” Julian looked like his heart was about to break. “No! You’re my real sister! From now on, I’ll give you the best of everything!” He practically forced the card into my hand before fleeing my room. I looked at the card, wiping away the last of my crocodile tears. You want to play games with me? Aurora, darling, you’re an amateur. 3. The family’s fiancé was named James Nordling. He was the heir to the Nordling Corporation and was originally engaged to Aurora. After I was found, the engagement became… awkward. More than once, Aurora performed her “kindness and generosity” for my parents. “Dad, Mom, the engagement was with the Sterling family. Now that my sister is back, she should be the one to inherit it. I’m willing to step aside and wish James and my sister all the best.” Every time she said it, my parents’ hearts ached for her, and they would look at me as if I were a thief. The first time James came over for dinner, the atmosphere was thick with tension. He sat across from me, his gaze polite but distant. He spent most of his time talking to Aurora. They talked about mutual friends, high-society parties, and topics I couldn’t even begin to understand. I just ate my food quietly, a ghost at the table. During the meal, Aurora put some food on my plate, her gesture as intimate as if we were real sisters. “Lily, eat more. You’re too thin.” Then, her hand “slipped.” A piece of greasy braised pork fell directly onto my faded, worn-out t-shirt. A large grease stain bloomed across the fabric. “Oh!” she gasped, her face a mask of apology. “I’m so sorry, Lily, I didn’t do it on purpose! Your clothes…” All eyes focused on the stain on my chest. The t-shirt was one I’d brought from the countryside, a ten-dollar bargain bin find. In a room full of couture and luxury brands, it was already out of place. Now, it was a joke. If I got angry, I’d be making a scene. If I swallowed it, I’d be admitting I was inferior. I looked at the stain. I didn’t get angry. Instead, I smiled. A smile that was sadder than tears. Then I looked up, my eyes swimming with moisture I refused to let fall. “It’s okay, sister,” I said, my voice hoarse. “It’s just an old shirt. If it’s dirty, I’ll just throw it away.” “It’s the only kind of clothes I have, anyway. Not like you, sister. You wear designer brands I can’t even recognize.” “I’m the one embarrassing this family. I shouldn’t have worn something like this to the dinner table.” I put down my chopsticks, stood up, and bowed deeply to everyone. “I’m sorry, Dad, Mom, Mr. Nordling. Please excuse me.” I turned and walked away, my back ramrod straight. Every step I took felt like it was landing on their hearts. I could feel James’s gaze shift from Aurora to me for the first time, a look of curiosity and pity in his eyes. Behind me, I heard my mother’s suppressed fury. “Aurora Sterling! Look what you’ve done!” Aurora was speechless. “Mom, I really didn’t mean to…” “Enough! I think you did it on purpose!” A carefully planned family dinner, ruined by a single, unshed tear. That night, I received a text from James. [Are you free tomorrow? I’ll take you to buy some clothes.] I looked at the message and smiled. The fish was on the hook. 4. I didn’t turn James down. The next day, I showed up at the designated mall, wearing the same grease-stained t-shirt. When James saw me, his handsome brows knitted together. “Why are you still wearing this?” I looked down. “This… this is the only decent shirt I have to wear out.” His expression grew even more complicated. He said nothing, simply took my wrist and pulled me into the most exclusive luxury boutique in the mall. The sales assistants’ eyes were full of contempt when they saw my outfit. But after they saw James’s black card, their faces instantly lit up with the warmest smiles. James pointed to a rack of the latest dresses. “Anything that suits her, wrap it up.” Then he looked at me, his voice softening slightly. “Go try them on.” I acted like a startled rabbit, waving my hands frantically. “No, no, it’s too expensive, I can’t accept.” “It’s not for you,” he said flatly. “It’s for the Sterling family’s reputation. When you go out in cheap clothes, you embarrass all of us.” The words were harsh, but I knew it was his clumsy way of being kind. I was “forced” to change into a white dress. The girl in the mirror was slender, pale, with a timid look in her eyes—a complete stranger to my usual self. When I walked out, James’s gaze faltered for a moment. He quickly recovered, handing his card to the assistant. “Wrap them all up.” When we left the store, he was carrying more than a dozen bags. I trailed behind him, head down. “Mr. Nordling, thank you. But I still can’t…” “Call me James,” he interrupted. I paused. He stopped and turned to look at me, his eyes deep. “Lily Sterling, you don’t have to live so cautiously. You are the rightful heiress of the Sterling family.” In the sunlight, his features were sharp, his eyes holding an emotion I couldn’t decipher. I sneered internally, but my words were soft. “But in their hearts, my sister is the real one. I’m just an outsider.” The tears started to well up again. “I don’t want to take anything that belongs to my sister,” I looked him in the eye. “Including you.” “E-James,” I stammered, “you and my sister look so good together. I wish you both the best.” “And I wish… that I can get used to being alone soon.” With that, I grabbed the shopping bags and ran, leaving James standing alone, his brow furrowed and his face dark. He started avoiding Aurora. When she called him, he was always in a meeting or on a business trip. When she went to his office, his secretary would say he wasn’t there. Aurora was going mad. She came to confront me. “Lily Sterling, what did you say to James?” I looked at her with wide, innocent eyes. A mist began to form. “Sister, what are you talking about? Why would I say anything to Mr. Nordling?” “I only told him that I wish you both the best and that he should treat you well.” “Sister, don’t you believe me?” I clutched my chest, my face a mask of hurt. “How could you think of me like that? Am I really the kind of person who would ruin your relationship?” “I…” Aurora was speechless. I pressed my advantage, my tears flowing freely. “I know, it’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have come back, I shouldn’t have appeared in your lives! I’ll leave now, I’ll leave the Sterling family and never bother you again!” I made a show of rushing for the door. My parents, who were just coming downstairs, saw the scene and were horrified. “Aurora! What are you doing to your sister again!” my father roared. “Your sister is fragile, and you’re still provoking her! What are your intentions!” my mother added. Aurora stood there, trembling, watching me cower in our mother’s arms. Her eyes were filled with venom. She knew she had lost again. Utterly and completely.

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I realized something was wrong with the woman sleeping next to me. Whenever I tried to get close, she was cold, unresponsive—like a corpse. I told myself it was just the slow fade of a long marriage, the novelty worn thin. Then I overheard my wife talking to her hot-as-hell best friend. “My husband sleeps like the dead,” she’d said. “You could put an actual body next to him, and he wouldn’t even stir.” So my wife was swapping herself out… with a stand-in? 1. I jolted awake, pulled from a deep sleep by a faint sound drifting from the living room. It was a soft, rhythmic sound… like a pained gasp, or a stifled moan. In the pitch-black dark, a chill crept up my spine. I instinctively reached out, nudging the woman beside me. “Honey, I think someone’s in the house…” I shook her again, then a third time. Nothing. She was completely out. She must be exhausted from the day, I reasoned. I decided not to wake her. I slipped out of bed, my hand closing around the heavy ceramic vase on the nightstand. A burglar? Tiptoeing, I eased the bedroom door open. The living room was an inky void. I hesitated, then, steeling myself, crept to the kitchen and armed myself with a chef’s knife. The cold steel in my hand gave me a sliver of courage. I felt for the light switch by the door and flipped on every light in the house. The living room exploded in a sterile, white glare. I swept my eyes across the room, then checked the others. No one. Nothing was out of place, not a single valuable missing. I stood there, a fool in the blaring light of an empty living room, the knife feeling ridiculous in my hand. Had I just imagined it? The next morning, I found my wife, Sophia, already at the breakfast table, a radiant smile on her face. “Morning, sleepyhead,” she chirped. “Breakfast is ready!” Sophia was stunning. Tall, with curves in all the right places, and a face that could stop traffic. We were a whirlwind romance—married within a month of meeting. But it had been a good marriage. She’d been with me through the lean years, from nothing to me becoming the managing partner of my own company. I was the envy of all my friends. She’d quit her job to be a stay-at-home wife after my business took off. The one shadow in our perfect life was that after six years, we were still childless. We’d seen doctors, run tests—we were both perfectly healthy. Just bad luck, we’d always said. Or maybe the timing just wasn’t right. I finished brushing my teeth and sat down, taking a bite of the warm sandwich she’d made. “Hey,” I started, remembering the night before. “Did you hear anything strange last night?” Sophia rolled her eyes, a playful annoyance in her tone. “Alexander, you were probably dreaming again.” I was about to press her, but she was already standing up. “Come on, you’ll be late for work. Finish up. I’m going back to bed for a bit. I’ve been so sleepy lately, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” She stretched, her body arching like a cat’s as she walked past me toward the bedroom. As she passed, a faint, unusual scent clung to her, something I didn’t recognize. I dismissed it as a new perfume and finished my breakfast before heading to the office. The next night, it happened again. I woke to the same disturbing sound, louder this time. I got up, checked the entire house. Again, nothing. My skin crawled. If it wasn’t a burglar, then what? A ghost? I’m not a superstitious man, but no other explanation came to mind. Then, for the next two weeks, silence. The house was quiet, and the nights were peaceful. I started to believe it was all over, that whatever it was had passed. I was wrong. It was just the beginning. One night, I was in the throes of a dream, a hot, vivid fantasy starring Sophia and me. I woke up right at the peak, my body still humming with unspent energy. The residual heat of the dream had me on fire. I moved closer to Sophia, my lips near her ear. “Honey,” I whispered. “Are you awake?” Silence. Just like before, she was utterly still, so unresponsive it was unnerving. She felt like a stranger. 2. But I was too far gone, lost in a haze of desire. I wasn’t going to let her go that easily. My whispers turned into gentle shoves. “Sophia. Wake up.” Just as a dark, unsettling thought began to form in my mind, she finally stirred. Her voice was a low, groggy murmur. “Go to sleep.” “No way,” I breathed, pressing against her again. “It’s been too long. Let’s have some fun tonight, okay?” My hands began to wander. She didn’t push me away, so I took that as a green light, growing bolder. But her skin felt… wrong. Cool to the touch, not the familiar warmth I knew. And that strange scent was there again, different from her usual perfume. It was an odd, almost clinical smell, but in my aroused state, it felt like a strange sort of novelty. Just as my hand was about to cup her breast, she suddenly grabbed my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. “No… wait. I—I need a shower first.” Before I could process it, she scrambled out of bed, clutching the duvet around herself, and bolted from the room into the darkness. I was left there, confused and frustrated. But if she wanted to shower, I’d wait. I just hoped she’d be quick about it. Time dragged on. I was starting to doze off again when I decided to get up and see what was taking her so long. That’s when I heard voices from the living room. To my shock, it wasn’t just Sophia. Her best friend, Chloe, was there too. I’d met her a few times—a bombshell in her own right, with a figure and face that could easily rival Sophia’s. Tonight, she wore a thin tee that clung to her curves and a pair of denim shorts that left little to the imagination. She was the kind of woman who turned heads and fueled fantasies. But Chloe looked pale and unnerved, her eyes wide with something that looked like fear. “When did you get here?” I asked, trying to sound casual. Sophia immediately linked her arm through Chloe’s. “Oh, just now! Her downstairs neighbors are being super loud again, keeping her up all night. She couldn’t take it, so I told her she could crash here.” I nodded, accepting the explanation. As I turned to go back to the bedroom, something clicked. “Hey, honey,” I said, turning back. “Weren’t you going to take a shower? Why are you still dressed?” Sophia hadn’t just thrown on a robe. She was wearing a tight, form-fitting dress and high heels—an outfit for a night out, not a night in. She didn’t miss a beat. “Well, Chloe called right as I was about to get in. I had to go downstairs and let her in, and I couldn’t exactly do that in a towel, could I?” It made sense. I let it go and went back to the bedroom. The heat I’d felt earlier was gone. It was late, and I had an early meeting. The unfinished business with my wife would have to wait. I fell asleep, never suspecting that Chloe’s sudden appearance was anything but what my wife had said. 3. A week later, I finished my work early and ended up falling asleep in my office. After a long nap, I felt surprisingly rested. That night, because I’d slept so much during the day, I was only in a light doze when I woke up and realized Sophia wasn’t in bed. I figured she was in the bathroom and was about to roll over and go back to sleep when I heard it: the soft murmur of whispers from the living room. Is she on the phone? A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. It was the middle of the night. Why was she sneaking out of our room to make a call? Was there something wrong with our marriage? I crept to the door, pressing my ear against the wood. It was Sophia’s voice, low and urgent. “Chloe, please, just help me out one more time. I know your company hasn’t paid you in months. I’ll add another thousand… no, two thousand dollars. How about that?” So she was talking to Chloe. I felt a wave of relief. But then I heard Chloe’s voice, and it wasn’t tinny or distant like it would be over a phone. She was right there, in my living room. “No, Soph, I can’t,” Chloe pleaded, her voice trembling. “Even if I need the money, I can’t do this again. He almost found out last time…” I froze. Almost found out what? “That was a fluke,” Sophia insisted. “It won’t happen again, I promise. Look, if you agree, not only will I give you the extra two grand, but I’ll get Alexander to hire you at his company. The pay will be way better than that dead-end job you have now.” There was a long pause. Chloe was clearly tempted. I was completely lost. What extra money? What was Sophia asking her to do? And how was I involved in all of this? Finally, Chloe spoke again, her voice full of a weary resignation. “Soph, I just don’t get why you’re doing this. It’s so obvious Alexander adores you. Why don’t you two just have a kid already? Maybe that would change things for you.” My blood ran cold. Sophia’s reply was quiet, but laced with a casual cruelty that cut me to the bone. “A kid? So I can turn into some frumpy housewife? No thanks. I want to have fun for a few more years. You have no idea… I’ve been taking birth control pills in secret after every time we… you know.” She let out a soft, dismissive sigh. “I can’t live without the thrill of those young, hot bodies out there. I just can’t.” The strength drained from my legs. I nearly collapsed. My stay-at-home wife was living a double life, sneaking out to party and cheat. And our six years of childlessness… it wasn’t fate. It was her, deliberately, secretly, making sure it never happened. Betrayal, agony, and a white-hot fury surged through me. I wanted to rip the door open, to slap that smug look off her face, to demand to know why. But then, I heard her wheedling voice again, directed at Chloe. “Come on, it’s fine. My husband’s been so stressed lately, he sleeps like the dead. You could put an actual body next to him, and he wouldn’t even stir!” A bolt of lightning seared through my mind, and a horrifying theory took shape.

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Sterling City buzzed with news: the “foolish prince” Ashton heir would marry a Woodley daughter. My parents panicked, forcing me to replace my sister. I refused, reminding them they’d disowned me years ago, then fled overseas. Within six months, Jane—driven to madness by loneliness—was caught cheating at the Ashton gala and took her own life. The scandal ruined our family. I begged my fiancé to help, but he sneered, “I shorted your stock to destroy Woodley Industries. Why save you?” “If you hadn’t abandoned Jane, would she be dead? You’re all murderers.” He sold me to a loan shark and watched me die. Only then did I realize—his heart had always been Jane’s. Now, reborn, I’ll marry the prince willingly. But when I stand crowned above them all, their regret will drive them mad… 1 Five years ago, the heir to the Ashton family of Sterling City was brutally attacked. He survived, but was left a simpleton, a man-child with no signs of recovery. Now, at a gathering where the Ashton matriarch was selecting a bride for him, he had clutched a card bearing the name of the Woodley family’s daughter. The matriarch’s decree was swift: the Woodley daughter would be his wife. The news spread like wildfire. The city’s elite daughters waited with bated breath to see Jane Woodley’s humiliation. Everyone knew the Woodleys had only one daughter of note: Jane. My parents’ hair turned white overnight. They couldn’t bear to marry their precious, pampered princess to a fool, even if he was the revered “prince” of Sterling City. I stared at my own youthful reflection in the mirror, my straight-cut bangs framing my face, and counted down in my head. Three, two, one… The door to my room was kicked open. My brother, Victor, was the first to charge in. “Bonnie! If you want to get technical about it, you’re the real Woodley daughter. This marriage should be yours. Why should Jane have to marry that idiot?” “I don’t care if you want to or not. The Ashtons are coming for a bride in a week, and you’re going to marry him in Jane’s place!” My parents followed close behind him. From their worried expressions, they had just come from Jane’s room. The house had been in an uproar for the past hour. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, had snuck me the news: Jane was on a hunger strike, swearing she’d rather die than marry the prince. My parents were terrified, and had spent the last hour coaxing her to drink half a bowl of thin porridge. They couldn’t bear to see Jane suffer, so they came to pressure me. But I was their only biological daughter. I calmly met Victor’s hateful glare. “Brother, you must be confused. Ten years ago, Mother personally struck my name from the family registry in front of the entire clan. She said she only recognized Jane as her daughter, and that the Woodley family had only one young lady.” “The Ashtons specifically asked for the Woodley daughter. If I, an outsider, were to marry into their family, aren’t you afraid of incurring their wrath? The entire Woodley family would suffer the consequences.” Jane was not my mother’s biological child, yet she had monopolized all of my mother’s affection. Ten years ago, my mother was mugged. Our nanny shielded her, taking a knife for her and dying on the spot. She left behind a young daughter. Out of gratitude, my mother took the little girl in, raised her as her own, gave her our family name, and even added her to the family registry. And as she did, she grew more and more distant from me. Jane had a lively, vivacious personality, and with my mother’s doting, her status in the family quickly surpassed my own. I was young and couldn’t hide my jealousy. I tried to put her in her place, reminding her not to forget who she was. She showed no fear, only provoking me further. The day I finally snapped and raised my hand to her, she stumbled backward and fell into the deBonnietive pond. Without a second thought, my mother dove in after her, frantic. Jane’s face was pale with cold. She clung to my mother’s sleeve, her voice a frightened whisper. “Madam, I just… I miss my own mother so much, and I accidentally called you ‘Momma.’ And then… Miss Bonnie tried to kill me…” My mother’s heart broke for her. “Silly girl,” she’d cooed. “From now on, you can call me Momma.” Then she turned to me, her eyes filled with disappointment. “You are so cruel. Sometimes I truly wonder if you are my real daughter.” Watching them cling to each other, my heart felt like it was being slowly, agonizingly shredded by a dull knife. She didn’t even give me a chance to explain. She made me kneel in the ancestral hall for three days and three nights, then personally struck my name from the family records. Overnight, I became the outsider in my own home, while Jane became the apple of my parents’ eye. She was pampered for ten years. Even my notoriously hot-tempered brother, Victor, was putty in her hands. In my past life, they had pressured me in the exact same way. Hurt by their blatant favoritism, I had stormed out and fled the country. But I couldn’t escape being dragged down by Jane’s fate. This time, I wouldn’t be so impulsive. “If I recall correctly, Woodley Industries’ most important upcoming project is with the Ashtons of Sterling City. Can you afford the consequences of their anger?” My reminder gave them pause. My parents hesitated, unsure of what to say. Victor sneered. “Are you blaming Mother for neglecting you all these years?” “Bonnie, how can I have such a petty sister? Compared to Jane, you really don’t seem like a part of this family.” In the past, his words would have cut me to the quick. But now, I didn’t care. I curved my lips into a smile and gave my parents a respectful nod. “Father, Mother. I am willing to marry the Ashtons’ foolish prince.” 2 My parents’ eyes lit up. “However… I have a condition.” “I want you to hold a press conference and personally tell the world that I am the true daughter of the Woodley family.” My parents exchanged uneasy glances. “Well…” Before they could respond, Victor lunged at me, grabbing the collar of my shirt. “I knew you weren’t being so kind! After all these years, you still resent Jane for taking your place!” I twisted my wrist, pushing his hand away. “You misunderstand, brother. This isn’t about me.” “Only when my identity as the Woodley daughter is made public can I marry into the Ashton family with legitimacy.” My mother looked conflicted. After a long pause, she reluctantly agreed. “Fine. I’ll arrange it now. We’ll hold a press conference for you, restore your status, and tell them that Jane is our adopted daughter.” Just then, Jane appeared at the doorway, looking frail and delicate. Hearing my mother’s words, tears immediately welled in her eyes. She whimpered, “Momma… are you abandoning me?” She shot me a resentful glare, then turned and ran. But after only a few steps, she collapsed in a faint. Victor was there in a flash, scooping her into his arms. My parents rushed after them, their faces etched with worry. A bitter taste filled my mouth. In this family, I would always be the outsider. I heard Jane threw a massive tantrum after she woke up, but the press conference went ahead as scheduled. I stood silently as Mrs. Gable fastened a pearl necklace around my neck. The irony was suffocating. I was their biological daughter, yet I didn’t own a single piece of decent jewelry. Even this necklace was a leftover from what Jane had picked out last year, left to gather dust in a forgotten corner of her closet. If it weren’t for today’s special occasion, it would never have seen the light of day. For the first time in years, my mother took my arm as we entered the hall. Jane sat on the other side. The room was filled with reporters and the most influential young ladies of our city. “Thank you all for coming,” my mother began. “Today, I have some joyous news to share…” “We are deeply honored that the Ashton family of Sterling City wishes to marry our daughter. I haven’t had the chance to properly introduce her before. This is Bonnie, my biological daughter, our family’s second young miss. In a few days, she will be marrying into the Ashton family…” Second young miss? My initial shock gave way to a derisive sneer. My own mother, so desperate to protect Jane’s feelings that she couldn’t even give me back what was rightfully mine, even when I was sacrificing my entire future. As soon as she finished speaking, whispers erupted throughout the room. “The Woodleys have another daughter? I’ve never heard of her. Didn’t they always say Bonnie was adopted, that she wasn’t even in the family registry?” “Can’t you see what’s happening? They can’t bear to marry their precious princess to that fool, so they’re subbing in the adopted one! Mrs. Woodley is clever. The Ashton matriarch just said ‘the Woodley daughter,’ she didn’t specify a name. This way, it’s not technically a lie.” “But I heard this Bonnie is the nanny’s daughter. Mrs. Woodley only took her in out of gratitude. For someone like her to marry into the Ashton family… she’s really hit the jackpot.” My face darkened as I listened to their pointing and whispering. Across the room, Jane shot me a triumphant look. I returned it with a contemptuous smile, slowly withdrawing my hand from my mother’s arm. “There seems to be a misunderstanding,” I said, my voice low and clear. “The truth is, the Woodley family has only ever had one daughter. Jane is the one you’re all referring to as the nanny’s child.” My mother never expected me to expose her lie so publicly. She scrambled to cover my mouth. “Be quiet! Don’t you dare speak such nonsense!” But the people here today were seasoned socialites. They were sharp. Their eyes darted between me and Jane, their minds already putting the pieces together. “You wouldn’t dare say something like that about bloodlines unless you were sure. And look how flustered Mrs. Woodley is. What Bonnie is saying is probably true…” “And now that you mention it, Bonnie does have the air of a true heiress. I always thought there was something a little… common about Jane.” “Still, can you imagine? A mother who neglects her own flesh and blood to pamper a nanny’s daughter like a treasure?” 3 Jane’s face turned scarlet under their scrutiny. She shook her head, flustered. “No, that’s not it! That’s not what happened! Bonnie, why would you say such things?” I scoffed. “What’s the matter? After all these years of living my life, have you forgotten your own name? Or should I say… Daisy May?” A few of the more outspoken young ladies burst out laughing. “Daisy May? That sounds about right. Definitely a nanny’s kid.” Jane’s face went from red to white and back again. “That’s enough! Don’t you talk to Jane like that!” My fiancé, Liam, rushed to her side, his chest heaving with anger. He was supposed to be my fiancé, yet here he was, publicly defending Jane, condemning me without a second thought. The memory of his hatred in my past life, the agony of my death at the hands of those men, sent a shiver down my spine. “What’s the matter, Mr. Hayes? Can’t accept that your future wife is the daughter of a nanny?” I looked at him coldly. A flicker of guilt crossed Liam’s eyes. “You… you knew?” “Your marriage to the Ashtons was their decision. My family wouldn’t dare defy them. Naturally, our engagement is off. The truth is, I’ve been in love with Jane for years. I was the one who asked your father for her hand… Don’t take your anger out on her. She’s done nothing wrong.” “Ha. She stole my identity, my mother’s love, forced me to marry in her place, and now she’s stolen my fiancé. She’s a real innocent, isn’t she?” I laid Jane’s true nature bare for all to see. Gasps rippled through the crowd. The looks directed at Jane became even more complex. Her face was a mask of fury. She picked up a cup of hot tea and approached me, forcing a look of humility as she apologized. “Bonnie, I’m so sorry. But today, in front of everyone, could you please just leave me a little dignity?” Before I could answer, her body jolted, and the scalding tea spilled all over her. Her delicate, white hands instantly turned a painful red. In the next second, a sharp, burning sting exploded on my cheek. It swelled up immediately. My mother’s hand was still raised in the air. She looked from my face to her hand, then back again, speechless for a moment before finally managing, “Bonnie, you’ve gone too far!” She then immediately turned to fret over Jane’s injuries. The moment Jane cried out in pain, Liam had already shielded her, cradling her hands like precious jewels, blowing on them to cool the burns. He frantically called for medical staff. I stood there, alone, and suddenly, the whole thing felt utterly pointless. After the press conference, I took a taxi home alone. When I got to my room, there was a letter on my dressing table. It was in Liam’s familiar handwriting. I opened it. The words “Engagement Annulment” burned my eyes. He really couldn’t wait to cut ties with me. Fine. The next time we meet, we’ll settle our scores. The door creaked open. I turned to see my mother, a rare look of guilt in her eyes. “Bonnie… I was too impulsive. I shouldn’t have hit you. Don’t be angry with me…” “Jane’s mother died for me. I owe her a life. I know I’ve neglected you all these years, and you’ve been wronged. But I just want you and Jane to get along. You are both the most important people in the world to me.” A cool sensation spread across my cheek. My mother’s fingertips, coated in ointment, gently smoothed over my skin. “You’re getting married soon. A scar on your face wouldn’t look good…” It had been so long since she had spoken to me so softly. For a fleeting moment, my resolve wavered. But her next words sent my heart plummeting back to the depths. “What happened today… you were still too impulsive. Go and apologize to Jane, and I’ll pretend this never happened.” 4 I looked at her in disbelief. “I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize to her?” “You burned her hands like that, and you still say you did nothing wrong? Bonnie, why are you so stubborn?” Victor stormed into the room. He had just gotten back from the office and heard about what happened. He was furious. “I did nothing wrong!” He sneered, grabbing my arm and twisting it behind my back. “If I have to drag you, I’ll drag you to Jane’s room and make you kneel and apologize!” His grip was painful. I winced, shouting at him, “Victor, I am the future bride of the Ashton heir! I’m not someone you can just push around anymore! You’d better think twice before you lay a hand on me!” He froze, then reluctantly released me. His eyes fell on Mrs. Gable, who was standing behind me. He lunged at her, his hand closing around her throat. “You’re the future Ashton bride, so I can’t touch you. But I can touch her, can’t I?” He was serious. Mrs. Gable’s face turned purple, and she clawed at his hand, her eyes pleading with me for help. He knew my weakness. “Fine. I’ll go.” My palm was throbbing from how tightly I was clenching my fist. Victor shoved me forward. Liam was still at Jane’s bedside, carefully applying ointment to her burns. Every time she winced, his face contorted in pain. I swallowed my humiliation and my hatred. I forced the tears back and choked out the words. “I’m sorry.” A sudden force struck the back of my knees, and I collapsed onto the floor beside Jane’s bed. She laughed, a triumphant, mocking sound, and leaned close to my ear. “See? What does it matter if you’re the real Woodley daughter? You still have to bow your head and apologize to me.” “I told you. Everything you have, everything you care about in this house… I will take it all, one by one.” She leaned back into Liam’s arms, smiling smugly. A commotion from downstairs interrupted her gloating. The butler’s voice boomed through the house, announcing that the Ashtons had arrived with the betrothal gifts. They filled the entire front hall and spilled out into the back garden. Even the doorway to Jane’s room was piled high with treasures. Jane, despite her pampered upbringing, had never seen such a magnificent display. Her eyes landed on a crown of pink diamonds, and she couldn’t hide her envy. I recognized it. It was the final, one-of-a-kind piece from last week’s auction in Paris, valued at over ten billion. She shot me a venomous look. “Bonnie is so lucky,” she said, her voice dripping with acid. “Such a generous betrothal gift. It’s clear how much the Ashton heir adores you. I’ll never have such fortune…” The moment a hint of sadness crossed her face, my mother couldn’t bear it. “Silly child,” she soothed. “When you get married, your father and I will give you the very best. If you like these things, I’ll have Bonnie leave them all for you as part of your dowry.” Jane immediately brightened, her gaze turning to me, more arrogant than ever. “Oh, never mind. I hear the Ashton heir is a fool. If Bonnie is lucky enough to have a child to secure her position, then fine. But if not, she’ll need this money to live on. I couldn’t possibly take it from her.” “But… I do wonder… if a fool has a child, will it be a little fool, too?” She batted her eyelashes at me innocently. I clenched my jaw and ignored her. She was mocking my difficult future, but she had no idea that compared to the Ashton family, this house, right here, was the real hell for me. The wedding day arrived in a blur. Normally, my mother should have been the one to see me off. But just as I was about to leave, one of Jane’s maids rushed in, saying Jane was having heart palpitations. Without a moment’s hesitation, my mother dropped my hand and hurried away. Mrs. Gable was indignant on my behalf, her voice thick with tears. “It’s your wedding day, miss. How could your mother not even see you off?” I watched my mother’s retreating back, swallowing the bitterness in my throat. “Let’s go. We can’t be late.” I was used to this kind of neglect, this blatant favoritism. So why did my nose still sting with tears? Thankfully, the Ashton wedding ceremony was incredibly elaborate, leaving me no time for self-pity. As I entered the bridal chamber, my heart pounded with anxiety. I had no idea how to face a husband I’d never met, a man who was said to be a fool. I had no idea what my future held. I only knew one thing: I would have my revenge. A crisp, clean scent of cedarwood drifted past me. I heard a low chuckle, and the red veil covering my face was lifted. When Julian Ashton’s eyes met mine, it was as if a thousand tiny stars had been scattered in their depths. They shone with a breathtaking brilliance. He pulled me into his arms. “Thank God,” he breathed. “I’ve finally married you.”

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The day before my husband’s birthday, our daughter got into an accident while trying to buy him a gift. As her life hung by a thread, my husband—a brilliant and renowned surgeon—was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t until after our daughter was pronounced dead that he finally answered my call. “Perry has a fever,” he said, his voice tight with annoyance. “Lila’s useless with this stuff, so I have to be here.” Overwhelmed with grief, I told him our daughter was gone. He was dismissive. “I know you’re just jealous and using our daughter to get attention, but Perry is sick. You need to stop this nonsense.” I took our daughter to the funeral home alone. Later, my husband called, accusing me, insisting that his first love’s son only got sick because my dog had scratched him. He demanded I come home and apologize, then stay to nurse the mother and son back to health. He thought my love for him would make me bend, as it always had. But this time, I just turned and walked away in silence. I’ve already prepared your birthday gift, Ethan. Happy Birthday. The divorce papers would be delivered to him on the day he was born. If he didn’t want my love, then I would give him exactly what he deserved. 1 “Dr. Monroe is out on a call,” the attending physician said with a heavy sigh. “If he’d been here… maybe the little girl would have had a chance.” My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the cold, linoleum floor. “He’s rarely off-site,” the doctor continued gently. “It must have been a real emergency. I’m so sorry for your loss.” A gurney with a small, white-sheet-covered form was wheeled out of the room. I stared at my phone, at the hundred missed calls to Ethan, and a chill seeped into my bones, deeper than any I had ever known. The great Dr. Monroe did, in fact, have an emergency he couldn’t leave. I saw it on Instagram. He had cut himself off from the world to focus entirely on his first love’s son. In the photo, his eyes were red-rimmed with worry as he carefully wiped a sick little boy’s hands with a damp cloth. My tears blurred the screen as I shakily typed a single comment: 【Hope you’re happy.】 Moments after I posted it, the number I hadn’t been able to reach all day suddenly called me back. “Vent to me all you want, Renata, but why would you comment on Lila’s post? What are people supposed to think? What is she supposed to think?” My voice was a hollow echo of itself. “Our daughter was in a car accident, and you were with someone else. Ethan, what am I supposed to think? What was Mia supposed to think?” His patience snapped. “She just happens to get into an accident the one night Perry has a raging fever? Do you really expect me to believe that? You can be jealous, Renata, but there’s a limit. This kind of drama just pushes me away.” I didn’t sleep. The next morning, as I was arranging for Mia to be taken to the funeral home, Ethan called again. “There are scratch marks on Perry’s hand. From a dog. Do you know anything about that?” I was stunned for a second, then a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “I’m not responsible for watching other people’s children.” Ethan’s voice exploded with rage. “So you admit it? You’ve been holding a grudge ever since Lila came to stay with us. I thought you were just being petty, but I never imagined you’d take it out on a child.” “Because of your jealousy, Perry suffered all night. This time, I can’t just let it go.” “You have five minutes. Get your ass home and apologize, or you’ll regret it.” He hung up. Classic Ethan. Every time before, when he got angry, I was the one who bowed my head and said I was sorry. But this time, I couldn’t give him what he wanted. The arrangements at the funeral home weren’t even finished when Ethan sent me a text. My phone buzzed, and I glanced down. My world tilted, and I dropped to my knees, vomiting onto the pavement. He’d taken our dog. Our beautiful golden retriever, sunny, who we’d had for ten years. The text was cold and final. “I gave you a chance. You chose to be stubborn. That animal’s fate is on you. After ten years, I thought you had some affection for him. I guess getting back at Lila was more important than anything.” A strangled sob escaped my throat. His words were a physical blow. “I’m a fair man. You do something wrong, you face the consequences. This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Don’t test my limits again.” I switched off my phone, cutting off his voice. My heart didn’t know which direction to break in. It had only been a few hours since Mia died. The funeral director approached me gently. “Ma’am, would you like to arrange for restorative cosmetology for your daughter? We require a five-hundred-dollar deposit to book the specialist.” The image of Mia’s broken body flashed through my mind, and I nodded frantically. But when I tried to use my card, it was declined. It had been frozen. Defeated, I had no choice but to call Ethan. His voice came through the line, cold and distant. “So you’ve thought it over? Ready to apologize? You always have to learn things the hard way, don’t you.” My voice was a raw whisper. “Ethan, can you please just give me five hundred dollars?” He scoffed, his tone dripping with ice. “What, you can’t have my love, so now you’re trying to run off with my money? Are you really that pathetic?” “You want the money? Fine. You have ten minutes to get here and apologize to Lila in person. And you’d better have a good, long list of everything you did wrong. Don’t make me remind you.” “Five hundred isn’t much. If your apology is sincere enough, I might consider it.” He didn’t hang up, leaving the line open. I stumbled, my world spinning. “The deposit…” I croaked to the director. “Can I come back in an hour to pay it?” He agreed. I couldn’t waste a second. I rushed home. Ethan was already waiting, his face a mask of stern disapproval. “That was twelve minutes, Renata. When did you become so unreliable?” Without hesitation, I looked directly at Lila, who was sitting beside him looking pitiful, and began my recitation. “I shouldn’t have called you. I shouldn’t have commented on your post. I shouldn’t have refused to apologize. I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Then I turned to Ethan, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. “I’ve apologized. Can I have the money now?” My gaze met his, and tears immediately welled in my eyes. My daughter, Mia, had inherited his eyes. The exact same shade of deep, thoughtful brown. Right after the accident, Mia had looked at me with those same eyes, filled with confusion and terror. “Mommy, am I going to die? Mommy, I don’t want to leave you.” I did everything I could to soothe her, my voice shaking as I lied. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie. Your daddy is the best doctor in the world. As long as he’s here, nothing bad can happen to you.” She believed me. She nodded, a small sense of peace settling over her frightened features. “Daddy will come save me. I’m not scared of anything.” But by the time she bled out and her heart stopped, her father’s phone had just started ringing on his end. His voice, when he finally answered, was furious. “Perry has a 104-degree fever, and you’re calling me with this crap? If something happens to him, can you live with that responsibility?” I sobbed into the phone, telling him our daughter had been in an accident. He just laughed coldly. “Renata, that little trick was cute when you were younger. A bit of romantic drama. But at your age, it’s just pathetic and disgusting.” He hung up. A moment later, the doctor walked out and told me to prepare for the worst. I cried for a long, long time, holding Mia’s hand as her body grew colder, stiffer. She died without seeing her father one last time. “Renata, for an adult, crying isn’t a way to solve problems.” Ethan’s voice pulled me back to the present. He was sitting next to Lila now, gently patting her back as she dabbed at her red-rimmed eyes. “Feel better now?” he asked her softly. “I’m here. She won’t dare to pull anything like this again.” Lila leaned against him pathetically. “Even if she hadn’t apologized, I wouldn’t have blamed her. I was just so worried about Perry. Ever since we moved in, Renata and Mia have never liked us. I’ve tried so hard to be patient, but I never thought…” She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with manufactured tears. “She can yell at me, hit me, I can take anything. But Perry is just a little boy. He doesn’t understand. Not only does he have to deal with the dirty looks, but he gets called a fatherless child. Renata, if you have a problem with me, just take it out on me. Please, just don’t hurt my son.” With a flourish, she raised her hand and gave her own cheek a dramatic, but feather-light, slap. Instantly, Perry came running out of the bedroom, sobbing. “Don’t bully my mommy!” He charged at me and sank his teeth into my arm. Pain shot through me, and I instinctively tried to shake him off, but he clung on with all his might. The pain was sharp and deep. I couldn’t help but push him away. Lila, who had been watching passively, suddenly shrieked. “Don’t hit him! He’s just a sweet boy trying to protect his mother!” Ethan’s face hardened. He rushed forward and, with all his strength, slapped me across the face. The force was so great it sent me stumbling backward, and even knocked Perry off my arm. I fell, my head cracking hard against the edge of a table. “You dare lay a hand on a child, Renata? What is wrong with you?” The room spun. Ethan’s furious face blurred into two, then three. Lila’s wailing filled the air, and a wave of absurd, hysterical laughter threatened to bubble up inside me. Looking back, I’d loved Ethan for longer than he’d even known I existed. We went to the same high school. He was the star—handsome, brilliant, the dream guy of countless underclassmen, including me. I studied like my life depended on it, chasing his shadow until we both got into the same university. But on the first day of orientation, I saw him in the cafeteria, feeding his girlfriend, Lila. A senior told me they were the campus power couple, both top students in the medical program. A perfect match. It was a story everyone loved. Everyone but me. All I wanted to do was cry. Then, Lila cheated on him and left the country, leaving Ethan devastated. He fell apart, even attempted suicide a few times. I was the one who stubbornly stayed by his side, comforting him, pulling him back from the edge. I was secretly glad back then. Glad that she had thrown him away, glad that I finally had a chance to be close to him. When he told me she had taken all his money, I didn’t hesitate to give him my entire life savings. He cried then, holding me, promising he would be devoted to me for the rest of his life. He called me his angel. And I believed him. I told him, “When you become the best doctor in the world, I won’t have to be afraid of anything. You’ll protect me, and I’ll live to be a hundred.” He held me tighter, and his tears were hot on my shoulder. But on the day my daughter died, I saw Lila’s new Instagram post. In the picture, Ethan was watching over her son, the raw anxiety in his eyes impossible to hide. Lila’s caption cut me to the core: 【My angel is here.】 I stared at that post for a long, long time, until my vision blurred and I couldn’t see anything at all. My thoughts snapped back to the present. Seeing Ethan and Lila standing together, a united front against me, I felt a dizzying sense of déja vu. It was as if I had never broken into his world at all. Ethan scooped Perry into his arms and carried him toward our daughter’s bedroom. My senses returned with a jolt, and I lunged after them. “Ethan, you can’t let him stay in Mia’s room!” He didn’t even look at me. I followed them in, and a single glance was enough to shatter my heart into a million pieces. Mia’s easel was covered in chaotic scribbles. The locked diary on her desk had been pried open and torn. Even her most precious doll, a fluffy white rabbit, had been dismembered, its parts scattered across the floor. Her sweet, cozy little sanctuary was gone. Those were the things she treasured most in her short life. A spasm of pain made my vision go black. I confronted him, my voice breaking, but Ethan just snapped at me impatiently. “The guest room is tiny. Perry’s sick. I wanted him to be comfortable. What’s the big deal?” “They’ve been putting up with that cramped room ever since they got here. Lila has been patient enough. What more do you want?” I had no strength to argue, no will to answer his endless accusations. I just knelt and carefully began to gather the ruined pieces of my daughter’s life. The pain was so intense it became a strange, hollow calm. Lila, still sobbing, hugged Perry and instinctively grabbed the stuffed animal from the bed, shoving it into his hands. “If you’re upset, just hold this.” Perry immediately started trying to rip the doll’s head off. I threw myself forward and snatched it back. Lila stared, then her brow furrowed, and her voice rose in a tearful whine. “It’s just a toy! I’ll buy you a new one! Perry is hurting, he needs an outlet! I’m begging you, can you please stop targeting a child?” Ethan’s gaze fell on the doll. Without a word, he strode over and ripped it from my hands. I remembered that little white rabbit. It was a Children’s Day gift from Ethan to Mia. It wasn’t cheap—a simple stuffed animal that cost over a hundred dollars. I’d even teased Ethan at the time for spoiling her. I told Mia it was expensive and that she had to take special care of it. In all the time she’d had it, Mia only ever held it when she slept. She never even took it out to play with, for fear of getting it dirty. Now, in Perry’s hands, it had been destroyed in seconds. I stood there for a long time, just watching. A strange smile touched my lips. It seemed I couldn’t protect anything I loved. While they were busy comforting the screaming Perry, I picked up Ethan’s phone and transferred a thousand dollars to my account. I took a taxi back to the funeral home and paid the deposit. The waiting room was cold, my heart slowly freezing over with it. I don’t know how much time passed before Ethan’s call came through. “So now you’re a thief, too? Well done, Renata. A great role model for your daughter.” “I ask you to come home and apologize, and what do you do? You cause a scene. I gave you a chance. You’re the one who didn’t take it. So don’t blame me for what happens next.” My hand was shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. “What are you going to do?” A cold laugh. “Scared now? Where was this fear when you and Mia were bullying Lila and her son? If Lila hadn’t told me, I would have never known that Mia—at her age—would attack someone’s deepest wound. Calling Perry a boy with no father! Is that how you raise a child?” “She did something wrong. As her father, it’s my right and my responsibility to discipline her. And I suggest you don’t even think about protecting her, or I can stop your mother’s treatment at any time.” “No!” The word was torn from me before I could think. A knowing, cruel chuckle on the other end. “So you are scared. Then be a good girl and admit your mistake. Stealing money and running away only makes you look more guilty. Renata, my patience has a limit. Don’t think being my wife gives you a free pass to do whatever you want. I won’t let my feelings for you cloud my judgment.” “Bring Mia and get home, now. Don’t make me wait.” My gaze drifted to the mortuary doors. I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “But Ethan… Mia is already dead.” How is a dead person supposed to apologize? I didn’t understand. “Did I not tell you to stop this? Once, twice, but not a third time, Renata. I’m really out of patience.” I was numb, unable to summon any emotion at all. “If you don’t believe me, you can come to the city morgue yourself. Mia… she’s lying in there.”

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The car crash landed me in the hospital. Hannah rushed over, but only long enough to sign a consent form before disappearing. “Something came up at home,” she’d said, leaving me—the guy with the freshly broken leg—all alone. Hours later, after I was out of surgery, I saw a new post from her stepbrother, Leo. It was on his Instagram story. “Just landed and she’s the first person I see. That’s what I call family.” The picture was of Hannah, beaming at the arrivals gate of the airport in the next city over. He’d even forwarded it to the family group chat, a blatant challenge to me, her actual boyfriend. I almost laughed. I typed back a cheerful reply. “What’s a little family bonding between… well, family. Guess that makes you two really close.” 1 I don’t have any family. For seven years, I’d been in New York with Hannah, just the two of us against the world. When she hurried in to sign my surgical consent, a warmth flooded my chest. For a moment, I felt like I had a family, too. Then, in the next breath, she was gone. “Something came up at home,” she’d tossed over her shoulder, not even sparing a glance for me or my injuries. Before I could say a word, she had vanished down the chaotic hospital corridor. When I was wheeled out of the operating room, my first instinct was to call and tell her I was okay. But the first thing I saw was Leo’s post in the group chat. Hannah, holding a huge bouquet of yellow lilies, waving with a brilliant smile at the airport arrivals gate. And his caption: “Just landed and she’s the first person I see. That’s what I call family.” I instinctively tried to shift my right leg, now encased in a heavy plaster cast. The anesthesia was wearing off, and a deep, throbbing ache was setting in. The anger and pain boiled over, and I called her. We fought. Her voice was sharp with impatience, just like every other time we’d argued. “Leo is my brother, Alex! Can you stop being so unreasonable?” “It was a minor accident, for god’s sake. Can’t you be a man and tough it out?” In the background, I could hear Leo’s smug laughter. “Hannah, we’re having a family dinner. Stop taking calls from outsiders.” The words, “He’s not even your blood relative,” died on my tongue as Hannah coldly hung up. A dull ache settled in my chest, heavy and suffocating. I went to my contacts and blocked her number. I didn’t want to bother my friends, so I swallowed my pride and hired a private nurse. I spent the next two and a half weeks in the hospital, enduring the curious whispers and pitying looks from the other patients in my shared room. The day before my discharge, a message came through from one of our mutual friends, clearly on Hannah’s behalf. “Alex, honey, can I come pick you up tomorrow?” It was her signal for a truce. In the ten years we’d been together, this was her pattern. She would hurt me with reckless abandon, then act as if nothing had happened, showering me with affection to smooth things over. And I, who had always treated her like a princess, had never held it against her. I never brought up the past. So she never cared whether her barbs left scars. She knew I would always be there with a smile, ready to forgive and forget. But this time was different. I was done. I had poured all my hopes for a family into her, desperately clinging to any scrap of warmth she offered. But in the end, I was just an outsider. I unblocked her number and sent a simple reply with my discharge time and room number. She replied instantly, a rare occurrence. “I’ll be there on time tomorrow, I promise! Mwah.” “And I’ll bring you some of my homemade chicken soup, okay?” Before, a reply that fast would have had me glowing, already online shopping for a gift to celebrate us making up. This time, I didn’t even have the energy to respond. I just turned off my phone and went to sleep. 2 My discharge was scheduled for ten in the morning. I sat on the edge of the hospital bed and waited. Ten o’clock came and went. Then eleven. Then noon. No sign of Hannah. The nurse on her rounds looked surprised to see me still there. “Alex, I thought you were heading home today?” I forced a weak smile. “Just waiting for a friend to pick me up.” The prying eyes of the other patients were becoming unbearable. I tried calling Hannah. No answer. I waited until after three in the afternoon. Still no Hannah. No message, no call. The nurse came back, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, Alex, but we have a new patient who needs this bed.” I managed a bitter laugh. “Right. Sorry. I’ll be on my way.” Leaning heavily on my crutches, I’d just made it to the hospital entrance when I saw Hannah rushing in, breathless. “I’m so sorry, honey! I had to drive Leo to a job interview in the next city over, I just got back…” I cut her off with a soft chuckle. “It’s fine.” Hannah froze, a frown creasing her brow. A flicker of anger crossed her face. “You’re mad. You’re blaming me for being late, aren’t you? Leo and I are…” “I’m not mad.” I sidestepped her attempt to take my arm. “Let’s just go home. I’m tired.” “Alex.” She planted herself in front of me, her eyes narrowed. “Where did you learn to be so passive-aggressive? You’ve never been like this.” “Like what?” I met her glare with a calm, almost amused look. “Is it wrong for me to be understanding now?” “I…” She faltered, looking flustered. “Whatever. Let’s just go home.” I maneuvered myself into the back seat of the car. Hannah shot me a glare over her shoulder, clearly annoyed. I beat her to it. “More legroom back here.” She pressed her lips into a thin line but didn’t argue. The exhaustion of the day finally caught up to me, and I drifted off, my head resting against the cool glass of the window. I didn’t wake until the sound of Hannah’s phone shattered the quiet. 3 “Hannah! I got the job!” Leo’s triumphant voice boomed from the car’s speakers. Hannah, who was driving, had put him on speakerphone. She glanced nervously at me in the rearview mirror. Seeing my eyes were still closed, she quickly lowered the volume, a wave of relief washing over her face. “I’m just picking Alex up from the hospital,” she said, her voice a little too casual. “Guess where I am!” Leo laughed, and the sound of howling wind grew louder, more piercing through the phone. The color drained from Hannah’s face. She slammed on the brakes, the sudden stop nearly throwing me from my seat. She paid me no mind, her voice a shrill cry. “Leo! Are you street racing again?!” “Have you forgotten you just got back, that you’re supposed to be recovering? Do you have a death wish?!” “Where are you right now?!” “You know where,” Leo’s voice floated back, light and careless, before he hung up with a laugh. Hannah’s hands were already on the wheel, ready to spin the car around, when her eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. She finally remembered I was there. “Honey…” she started, her expression torn. I knew what was coming. Some flimsy excuse about how Leo’s reckless behavior was more dangerous, how he needed her more than I did, now that I was safely out of the hospital. Before she could even start spinning her story, I made it easy for her. I tapped on the window. “Just let me out here.” “I can grab a cab.” Hannah stared at me, searching my face for any sign of jealousy, but her fingers had already betrayed her, flicking the switch to unlock the doors. I smiled. The soft click of the lock felt like a final, tolling bell in my heart. I dragged my casted leg out of the car. I watched as her car, without a moment’s hesitation, made a sharp U-turn and sped off toward the highway, back toward the next city over. She didn’t even seem to notice that she’d dropped me on a quiet side road, the kind where cabs are a rare sight. I was leaning on my crutches by the curb when my phone rang. It was Jake. “Buddy, listen up. The company’s sending a senior programmer to the States for a special program on the West Coast. I put your name forward.” Jake was a VP at the company and my senior from college. Every time an opportunity like this came up, I was the first person he thought of. And every time, I’d turned him down, using the excuse that I couldn’t leave Hannah, that I wasn’t cut out for life somewhere new. Before I could speak, Jake cut me off. “And don’t you dare give me that crap about not wanting to leave your girlfriend. This is a once-in-a-lifetime shot!” “It’s not like you’re going to outer space. If you can’t survive a year of long-distance, then you need to ditch the girl! I’ll find you someone better, I swear!” I let out a genuine laugh. Hannah and I had been high school sweethearts. Three years of high school, four of college, and three more since graduation. Ten years. A decade where I was almost never apart from her. The day we graduated from college, she came with me to visit my parents’ graves. I remember whispering my prayer to the quiet stones. “I want to be with Hannah forever. I want a family.” Back then, Hannah had squeezed my hand tight, her voice full of conviction. “Alex, I am your family.” That was before her mother remarried, and her stepbrother, Leo, entered our lives. I had loved her for a decade. And in my most vulnerable moment, she had abandoned me. First in a hospital, then on a deserted street. All my devotion, all my hope… it was all just a bad investment. “When do I leave?” I asked, my voice steady. Jake was ecstatic. “Attaboy! You finally came to your senses! This is going to change everything for you, your whole career!” “Send me your resume right now, I’ll forward it to the team in California!” I looked up at the darkening sky. Still no sign of a cab. A dry laugh escaped my lips. “Jake? Could you do me a favor first? Come pick me up? My leg’s not exactly cooperating right now.”

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My father brought his illegitimate daughter home today. CRACK! The sharp, clean sound of a slap echoed through the opulent living room. I watched with cold eyes as the girl I’d just struck crumpled to the floor. She collapsed bonelessly against my brother, her eyes welling with tears. “Leo… your sister… she’s hurting me…” Heh. Such a convincing performance. As my brother, Leo, grabbed her slender arm, cutting off any chance of escape, our eyes met. In that fleeting glance, we shared a silent, cold understanding. I slowly crouched down, my fingers tracing the outline of her deceptively fragile face. I enunciated each word with chilling clarity. “An illegitimate daughter with no shame, daring to pull the innocent victim act in front of me, Scarlett Vance?” “Who gave you the nerve?” 1 My father, a man who might as well have been dead for all the attention he paid my brother and me, called out of the blue. His voice, slick with a false warmth, announced he was back from a “business trip” and had a “big gift” for us. Leo and I were in the dining room. At his words, we both put down our forks in unison. Our eyes met across the table, reflecting the same deep, biting mockery. A gift? From him? From a man who treated his own children with icy indifference, who hadn’t fulfilled a single fatherly duty in his life? We wanted nothing to do with his “gifts.” Sure enough, when he pushed open the front door, the true nature of his “gift” was revealed. Standing behind him was a slender girl with a pitifully innocent face that bore a faint, three-tenths resemblance to my own. A cold sneer instantly formed on my lips. The love child he’d kept hidden for eighteen years? What a “gift” indeed. My father, the current patriarch of the Vance family, seemed oblivious to the glacial expressions on our faces. He frowned at my look of utter contempt and spoke in a tone dripping with condescension, as if bestowing a great charity upon us. “Your sister has suffered for eighteen years without a name or a home. It’s time she was welcomed back into the family.” His gaze shifted to me, his voice now a command. “Scarlett, from now on, you will get along with your sister.” Sister? I stared at the girl. Her eyes, her features… they were a haunting echo of the woman who was indirectly responsible for my mother’s death. My fists clenched at my sides, hidden from view. A soft cough from Leo pulled me back from the brink of overwhelming hatred. I turned, catching the signal in his eyes. It’s time. In the next second, a calculated rage surged through me. Without a second thought, I lunged forward and delivered a resounding slap across the girl’s face. My years of karate training made the blow both vicious and precise. The so-called sister was sent sprawling to the floor in a pathetic heap. I loomed over her, the sneer on my lips twisting into something cruel. “The spawn of some cheap homewrecker, and you expect me to look after you? Not having my leftovers thrown in your face is the only charity you’ll get from me.” “You think your filthy blood makes you my equal? Keep dreaming, you gutter trash!” Humiliated, the girl cradled her face and began to sob on the cold marble floor, playing the part of the ultimate victim. Before the rage on my father’s face could erupt, my brother, Leo, beat him to it. He shoved me hard, sending me tumbling to the ground, and then slapped me in return. He roared at me, each word laced with profound disappointment. “Scarlett! How dare you talk back to Father! You disrespectful brat!” I landed on the plush carpet, looking up with a face full of defiance, staring daggers at my brother. My father, however, was thoroughly pleased by Leo’s “righteous” display. He clapped him approvingly on the shoulder before turning back to me, his expression now a mask of frost. “To compensate your sister, I’ve already transferred all the shares your mother left you to Aurora.” “We’ll consider this matter closed,” he warned. “But if you ever dare to bully Aurora again, don’t blame me for forgetting you’re my daughter!” With that, he stormed out without a backward glance. Aurora scrambled to her feet, clutching her swelling cheek. Before scurrying after him, she shot me a look so venomous it could kill. The moment they were gone, Leo’s expression changed completely. He reached down to help me up. “Get off,” I snapped, batting his hand away and getting to my feet on my own. He paid my anger no mind, anxiously checking me over. “Did I push you too hard? Are you hurt?” he whispered. I brushed off my wrinkled clothes, my tone light. “I’m fine. The carpet’s thick enough. No harm done.” I glanced towards the door, adding with a smirk, “Unlike Aurora. She landed right on the marble. I bet her tailbone is cracked.” Leo couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter. The afternoon sun streamed in as the maid brought our tea. Leo sipped his coffee, his eyes flicking to the second floor where Aurora was now fawning over our father. A look of undisguised contempt crossed his handsome face. “Just a mistress’s daughter. A born sycophant who only knows how to cling to men. And she thinks she’s worthy of Mother’s shares?” I curled my lip, speaking in a voice only we could hear. “Brother, the show is just beginning. You need to learn patience.” “After all,” I added, “getting her to spit it all back out, with interest, is going to require a major effort from you.” We looked at each other and smiled. In the quiet before the storm, this moment of peace felt surprisingly precious. 2 My brother Leo and I are allies forged in hatred. Our mother came from one of the most prestigious old-money families in the city, the sole heiress to her father’s fortune. But she had terrible judgment, falling for my father, a penniless social climber with nothing to his name. My father built his empire on the back of my mother’s family, only to cheat on her without a second thought while she was on her deathbed, driving my grandfather to an early grave from pure rage. He even had the gall to steal the inheritance our mother left for us, all to please his mistress. Thankfully, the mistress didn’t live long, dying early and leaving behind only that wretched creature, Aurora. Our original plan was to wait until Leo had complete control of the Vance Corporation, then cast both of them—our father and Aurora—into the pits of hell. But we never expected our father to be so impatient. Before the shares could even warm Aurora’s hands, he eagerly paraded her through the front doors of our home. Fine. The plan may have been forced ahead of schedule, but Leo and I were determined to take back everything that was rightfully ours. Not a single piece would be left behind. Of course, this required a little bit of strategy. Aurora was laughably naive. She must have truly believed she was some heaven-sent protagonist, that everyone should revolve around her and treat her with unconditional kindness. So when Leo showered her with “affection,” she didn’t suspect a thing. Instead, she soaked it all up, reveling in the attention. Over the years, as the Vance business grew, my father became lost in the vanity of his success, his grip on the company loosening. Now, Leo had already taken over most of the operations. In the eyes of the city’s elite, he was the de facto heir. In the past, I was the one who accompanied Leo to all social functions. Aurora would watch me leave in my couture gowns and dazzling jewelry, her eyes overflowing with an envy she couldn’t hide. So, she started whining to Leo, crying and begging for a chance to see the world of the rich and famous. I threw a massive tantrum over it, which only strengthened Aurora’s resolve to replace me. In the end, our father stepped in, scolding me for being “immature” and “not knowing how to yield to my sister.” He ordered the maids to pack up all my finery—gowns, jewelry, everything—and give it to Aurora. In that moment, Aurora looked like a victorious rooster, proudly clinging to my brother’s arm, her face a mask of undisguised triumph. I watched them leave with a look of pity, silently lighting a candle for my poor brother in my mind. He was in for a rough night. Aurora grew up on the streets. You could dress her in royal robes, but she’d never look like a princess. She might have a face similar to mine, but she could never replicate the high-society grace that had been ingrained in me since birth. Her posture, her table manners, even the most basic ballroom dancing—she was clueless about it all. On what grounds did she dare to compete with me? Sure enough, two hours later, I received a text from my best friend, Gwyneth. Gwyneth: Scarlett, did your brother get kicked in the head by a donkey? Why would he bring that illegitimate girl out in public to embarrass himself? Gwyneth: She’s a disaster! She just stomped on my foot while dancing. My new Louboutins! Aaaah! I looked at the screen and couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I could just picture Aurora, clumsy and flustered, making a fool of herself at the gala. It wasn’t until eleven o’clock that night that Leo returned, an exhausted-looking Aurora in tow. The moment she walked in, she glared at me with eyes red and swollen from crying. I just shrugged innocently, not bothering to engage. Leo patted my shoulder, not even trying to hide the schadenfreude dancing in his eyes. That night, the private group chat for the city’s trust-fund kids exploded. Everyone knew I didn’t get along with my “sister,” so they didn’t hold back in their mockery of her. I scrolled through the chat history, everything proceeding exactly as I’d planned. From the moment Aurora entered, her performance of incompetence began. She tried to strike up conversations, feigning familiarity. While most people maintained a polite facade, they’d quickly make an excuse and flee after a few sentences. I chuckled to myself. Honestly, what did you expect? You’re an illegitimate child who can’t be shown in public. Did you really think the snobbish heirs and heiresses would welcome you with open arms? Later, during the dancing portion of the evening, Leo was pulled away by some business partners to discuss a project, leaving Aurora stranded on the dance floor. It was a public execution. Completely inept at dancing, she managed to step on the feet of every single man who asked her for a turn. During a partner exchange, she even stomped on my best friend, Gwyneth. Gwyneth was famously sharp-tongued. She didn’t miss a beat, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Some people should learn not to force their way into circles where they don’t belong. Is it fun making a complete clown of yourself?” That one sentence was enough to make Aurora’s eyes well up with tears on the spot. The funniest part? When Leo returned, she didn’t dare say a word of complaint, terrified that he would think she’d performed poorly and she’d never get another chance at such a “privilege.” The city’s high society is a small world. A new laughingstock was a rare treat. After they’d had their fill of mockery, the bored young elites started digging into her background. Overnight, Aurora’s entire family tree, down to her great-great-grandparents, was practically unearthed for all to see. 3 The next morning, Aurora was up bright and early, seated at the dining table with a face of delicate makeup, looking every bit the lady of the house. I came downstairs just in time to see Leo, a “doting” expression on his face, peel an orange for her. Aurora accepted it with a shy blush and popped a segment into her mouth. The next second, her face contorted as she fought to control her expression against the overwhelming sourness. I desperately stifled my laughter until Leo turned away, and then I couldn’t hold back the gleeful smirk. After breakfast, the driver was waiting to take Aurora and me to the same elite private school. My father, in his effort to “compensate” her, had transferred her there. He’d told her to study hard, then immediately left for his own pleasures at a private club. Inside the car, the partition slowly rose, shielding us from the driver’s view. Aurora instantly dropped her fragile act, her eyes full of provocation. “Sister, I went to the gala yesterday, and all the young masters and ladies of the great families loved me. So many people came to talk to me.” She lifted her chin smugly. “And so many handsome, distinguished men asked me to dance. I bet that’s a level of treatment even you don’t get, sister.” I couldn’t be bothered to even look at her. I rolled my eyes at the ceiling of the car and pulled out today’s French newspaper. My mother had studied design in France when she was young, and her greatest wish was for me to learn the language. I’d kept up the habit for years, for her. Seeing my indifference, Aurora, not to be outdone, also picked up a newspaper. Though she couldn’t understand a single word, she pretended to read it with great focus. I scoffed. Wasting my breath to mock her wasn’t worth the effort. When we got to the classroom, I had just settled into my seat when Aurora began her deeply flawed self-introduction at the front of the class. When she finished, the teacher started looking for a seat for her. A quick scan of the room revealed only one empty spot. Next to my fiancé, Terrence Hawthorne. The teacher was clearly aware of our relationship and hesitated, even considering bringing in a new desk. After all, on one side was the fiancé of the legitimate Vance heiress, and on the other, the newly acknowledged illegitimate daughter. The situation was awkward, to say the least. However, upon learning Terrence’s identity, Aurora’s eyes lit up, and she volunteered eagerly. “Teacher, I’ll just sit with this student!” The teacher shot me a troubled look. Seeing that I had no reaction, seemingly unconcerned, she could only nod helplessly. The other students watched Aurora’s desperate attempt to latch onto him, their eyes filled with undisguised disgust. As for me, I calmly took out my notebook and began reviewing my notes, letting her buzz around Terrence like an annoying fly, pestering him with questions. Terrence was naturally aloof, but today, surprisingly, he showed Aurora an immense amount of patience. In just one morning, her form of address for him had already evolved from “this student” to an intimate “Brother Terrence.” My best friend Gwyneth was practically dying of anxiety watching this, but I remained unhurried, as if I weren’t the one being publicly cuckolded. I played the part of the “spineless turtle” for a full two weeks. It wasn’t until a group project in economics class that Aurora once again snatched my usual spot, brazenly demanding to be in a group with Terrence. This time, I had reached my limit. I stood up with a cold smile, grabbed Aurora’s ponytail, and, under the watchful, anticipating gazes of the entire class, dragged her into the girls’ restroom. My “loyal friends” were quick on the uptake, standing up to block a few boys who looked like they might interfere. I specifically chose the filthiest, uncleaned stall and ruthlessly threw her inside. “Aaaah!” Aurora let out a piercing scream. “Scarlett Vance, you bitch! You just wait, I’m going to get Terrence over here right now!” I sneered and delivered two crisp slaps to her face. “‘Brother Terrence’?” I repeated slowly. “How intimate. What, are you already so eager to follow in your trashy mother’s footsteps and become a mistress? Is this a family talent?” Aurora, furious, tried to fight back, but I kicked her back into the stall. Her brand-new school uniform was instantly soaked in filthy water. “Don’t bother screaming. Your precious Terrence isn’t here. Today, let me be the one to teach you the rules of high society!” Beside me, Gwyneth wrinkled her nose in disgust and picked up a half-full trash can from the corner, about to dump it on Aurora’s head— “Stop!” A sharp command came from the doorway. Terrence Hawthorne, impeccably dressed in a suit and tie with his student council president badge pinned to his chest, had “finally” arrived, his face a mask of righteousness. Seeing her savior, Aurora’s crying intensified, becoming a picture of pitiable beauty. Terrence helped her up with a pained expression, then glared at me with eyes full of utter disappointment. “Scarlett, I never thought you could be so jealous! I was only being kind to Aurora because she’s suffered so much in the past, and you torment her at every turn!” “You’ve disappointed me so much!” He paused, delivering the final blow. “If there’s a next time, I think I’d rather marry Aurora than a venomous woman like you!” With that, he carefully supported the “injured” Aurora and left. Before they disappeared, Aurora didn’t forget to look back and shoot me a triumphant, victorious glare. I, of course, gave her exactly what she wanted: a performance of jealousy, resentment, and bitter hatred. Only when their figures had completely vanished did Gwyneth and I let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. Gwyneth stretched dramatically and sidled up to me with a grin. “That kick was epic. Aurora is covered in so much grime.” She added, gloating, “Terrence was standing so close to her. That expensive suit of his is probably ruined too, right?” The image made me grimace in disgust. “Next time I hit her, we need to find a cleaner spot. That was truly revolting.” For that economics project, Aurora ultimately got her wish and was paired with Terrence. The result? The professor mercilessly gave her the lowest possible grade. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Terrence had done the entire report by himself; Aurora was just a name on the paper. The blonde, blue-eyed economics professor frowned at Terrence on the stage and asked in fluent French, “Terrence, you and Scarlett have always worked so well together. Why the change? Your new partner, forgive my bluntness, is terrible. She can’t keep up with your thought process at all.” Aurora, not understanding a word of French, could only stand beside Terrence like a pretty, clueless doll. But the wealthy students in the audience understood perfectly. They erupted in undisguised laughter, all turning to look at me in the back row. I remained expressionless, as if I weren’t the center of their discussion. Terrence, at a loss for words, could only lower his gaze and apologize in French. “Professor, I am very sorry. I messed up this project.” The teacher glanced at the pitiful-looking Aurora, sighed in resignation, and waved them off the stage. Gwyneth, sitting in the front row, personally witnessed the teacher mark a bright red “D-” next to Aurora’s name. As she graded, the teacher muttered in English, “I don’t get kids these days. Trading a genius teammate for a useless but pretty vase.” Gwyneth was shaking with silent laughter in her seat. And Aurora, at that very moment, was tearfully apologizing to Terrence, who just gently stroked her hair and comforted her in a soft voice. What a moving performance of deep, unwavering devotion.

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