While picking up some mooncake gift boxes at the grocery store for the upcoming Mid-Autumn Festival, I snapped a quick photo of three different flavors and sent it to our group chat. [Which ones do you guys want? I’ll grab them all together.] My best friend, Chloe, replied: [Whatever, I’m good with anything.] My boyfriend, Ethan, replied: [Then I’ll just have whatever she’s having.] I ended up grabbing three boxes of the classic lotus seed paste with salted egg yolk. But when I actually walked through the door carrying three identical gift boxes. He shot me an exhausted, helpless look, then exchanged a knowing smile with Chloe. “When Chloe says ‘anything,’ she doesn’t actually mean anything.” “Her dad loves the salted egg yolk, her mom is obsessed with the red bean paste, and she specifically loves the durian snow-skin ones.” “You were supposed to buy one of each.” I stared down at the three boxes resting on the kitchen counter, saying absolutely nothing. I had been with Ethan for five years, yet he was always, flawlessly fluent in reading between the lines of Chloe’s casual remarks. When we went out to eat and he asked if she wanted a booth or a table by the window, she always said, “Whatever.” But Ethan would silently, instinctively make sure to save her the most comfortable seat tucked away in the booth. I was always stuck on the outside edge, by the aisle. When we were planning our post-grad trip and I asked if we should go to Hawaii or Miami, she also said, “Whatever.” Before I even had a chance to narrow down my choices, Ethan had already booked the flights and built an entire itinerary for Hawaii—because that was the exact aesthetic Chloe had been saving to her Pinterest boards. Yet, when I was hospitalized with a perforated ulcer and he texted to ask if I needed him to come sit with me. I was miserable and petty, so I typed out “Whatever.” And he took it completely literally. Every single time Chloe said “Whatever,” he instantly decoded the absolute perfect, unspoken answer. But when I dropped hints, he never managed to hear a single one. So, I guess I don’t need to specifically announce the breakup either. … Ethan let out a heavy sigh. “I’ll just go back to the store and get the right ones.” Chloe immediately shook her head, looking incredibly guilty and embarrassed. “Ethan, you don’t have to go through all that trouble! Any flavor is totally fine, seriously!” But Ethan was already grabbing his keys from the bowl by the door, heading out. I stood there, staring blankly at his retreating back. That specific premium supermarket was a solid forty-five-minute drive away. With the holiday traffic piling up, it was going to be an absolute nightmare. Just a few hours ago, when I asked him if he could drive me there. He complained that it was too much of a hassle and said there was absolutely no reason to drive that far for some pastry. My phone vibrated, snapping me out of my thoughts. Chloe had sent a message to the group chat, directed at him: [Hey, since you’re driving past that new boba spot on your way back, could you grab two drinks for me and Maya?] Ethan replied instantly: [Sure, what do you guys want?] [Whatever’s fine.] Ethan just sent a quick “thumbs up” emoji. It wasn’t until an entire hour had passed. That he finally realized I hadn’t answered yet. [@Maya, stop overthinking it. Just tell me what you want.] I pressed my thumb against the screen, copied Chloe’s exact text—Whatever’s fine—and pasted it into the chat. The group went dead silent. I looked over at Chloe lounging on my sofa. Two weeks ago, she told us her lease was up and she needed to crash here for a few days to shorten her commute. It had been half a month, and I hadn’t heard a single update about her supposedly finding a new apartment. When Ethan finally walked back through the door, Chloe’s high-pitched squeal of excitement almost shattered my eardrums. “Oh my god, how did you know I wanted this one?! It even has the limited-edition keychain!” I looked at the elaborate, newly released seasonal drink and the cute promotional keychain in her hands. Then I looked down. He had handed me a basic, buy-one-get-one-free iced green tea. I didn’t take it. Ethan’s brow furrowed automatically, an irritated look crossing his face. “What’s the problem now?” “Did you forget I just had stomach surgery? I literally cannot drink ice-cold beverages right now.” His expression faltered for a second. “You didn’t specify that in the text.” I opened the group chat, holding my screen up so he could see my reply stacked directly under Chloe’s. “She didn’t specify what she wanted either.” He stared at me silently for two seconds, then suddenly let out a sharp, dismissive laugh. “Are you seriously starting a fight over boba? If you want a different one, I’ll buy you whatever you want tomorrow.” “Next time, just use your words and tell me exactly what you want.” The exact same phrase. He could instantly decode it for her, perfectly predicting her exact cravings. But for me, he couldn’t even be bothered to ask, let alone guess. Ethan reached out to grab my hand. “Alright, calm down. I picked up the mooncakes for your parents while I was out, too.” I picked up one of the boxes. It was the lava custard flavor, my mom’s absolute favorite. When I was at the store earlier today, the shelves for that specific brand were completely empty. While I was waiting in the checkout line, I had casually complained to Ethan over text about them being sold out. I honestly didn’t expect him to remember. I took a deep breath. Just as I was about to ask him what time he wanted to hit the road to visit my parents tomorrow. Because we had previously agreed that during this trip, we were finally going to sit down and discuss setting a wedding date. Chloe excitedly bounded over, staring at the gift boxes with wide, dramatic indecision. “Oh wow, you actually bought the eight-flavor assorted box! I have no idea which one to pick!” My chest instantly tightened. Before my brain even fully registered what was happening, Ethan was already reaching out to take the box from my hands. “If you like the variety pack, just take it.” “You have a huge extended family anyway, you’ll need the extra ones.” I stared at him, utterly paralyzed. “Didn’t you literally just say you bought that for my parents?” “Your parents aren’t picky. Three boxes of the classic lotus flavor is more than enough for them.” A sudden, sharp sting hit the back of my nose. Last Thanksgiving, I spent hours picking out an expensive gift basket for my family, only to find out when I arrived home that Ethan had swapped it out to give to Chloe instead. His excuse back then was identical to the one he was giving me right now. “Stop being so petty. Your parents aren’t going to notice the difference anyway.” What he didn’t know was that the cheap, unbranded substitute basket Chloe had bought ended up giving both my parents aggressive food poisoning for three days. If my younger brother hadn’t called me out of the blue two days ago to specifically warn me not to bring “that cheap garbage” home again, I never would have even known it happened. Seeing that I was refusing to let go of the box, Ethan’s grip tightened, aggressively pulling it toward himself. His tone shifted, laced with heavy, exhausted annoyance. “It is literally a box of pastries. Is it really worth fighting over?” The woven handle of the bag dug into my palm, leaving an angry red mark. I let go. And I started to laugh. “You’re right. It’s not worth it.” Holding onto a relationship like this. It really wasn’t worth it. Chapter 2 Seeing me yield, the tension drained out of Ethan’s face. He reached over and affectionately ruffled my hair, just like he always did when he thought he had won. “Alright. We have that group dinner with the guys tonight, remember?” “Hurry up and change, we’re already running late.” Chloe acted as if she had just suddenly remembered. She quickly pulled a sleek, expensive dress out of a shopping bag and shoved it into my hands. “Oh! Ethan bought this specifically for you. Go try it on! We’ll wait for you downstairs.” It was a new release from a brand I had been obsessing over for months but couldn’t justify the price tag for. But when I checked the collar, the tag read Size S. Chloe’s size. And there were faint creases in the fabric. It had clearly been worn before. I tossed the dress onto the sofa. It felt like someone had dropped a concrete block directly onto my chest. I couldn’t catch my breath. My phone buzzed twice. It was Ethan. [Are you coming down?] I tapped the text box, about to type. Before I even hit a key, another message popped up. [Grab a jacket for Chloe before you come down. It’s getting windy out.] He wasn’t actually asking why I was taking so long. He just wanted me to act as a coat-check girl for Chloe. I paused, walking over to the window to look down at the street. Ethan’s car was idling by the curb. Chloe was sitting in the passenger seat. She was holding the custom couple’s tumbler I had bought for Ethan, tilting her head back to take a drink. It wasn’t just the cup. Over the last two weeks since Chloe moved in… She wore Ethan’s house slippers, claiming the larger size was “so much cozier.” She routinely threw on his white button-down shirts, saying men’s clothing had better fabric and the oversized fit was perfect for lounging around the house. Since they worked at the same company, it was only “logical” that they carpooled every day. And naturally, the passenger seat of his car had permanently evolved into her exclusive territory. And Ethan? He had never, not once, told her no. In the beginning, I genuinely didn’t think much of it. They had known each other for years before I even entered the picture. When Ethan was pursuing me, and through all the messy breakups and makeups over the last five years, Chloe had always played the role of the enthusiastic mediator. If they were going to hook up, they would have done it long before I was around. But looking down at the street right now, the reality finally snapped into crystal-clear focus. The boundaries hadn’t just been crossed. They had been completely obliterated. My phone vibrated with a notification from the local police precinct. [Ms. Quinn, regarding the assault report you filed two days ago, we need you to come down to the station to provide supplementary details.] I took a deep breath, grabbed my purse, and walked downstairs. As I approached the car, Chloe made a dramatic show of reaching for her seatbelt. “Oh, I’m so sorry Maya, I just got so used to sitting here lately. You can have your seat back.” Ethan looked at me standing on the sidewalk. When he noticed I hadn’t changed into the dress, and I wasn’t carrying a jacket, a flash of visible irritation crossed his face. He reached out and physically pulled Chloe back into the passenger seat. “Don’t bother moving. We don’t have time for musical chairs.” I didn’t argue. I just kept walking down the sidewalk, past the car. Ethan froze. He aggressively threw the car into drive, aggressively swerving to cut me off and blocking my path. He threw the door open and grabbed my arm. “Maya, what the hell kind of tantrum is this now?” “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’m just not going in the same direction.” He let out a sharp, frustrated laugh. “What does that even mean?” “You guys are going to a party. I’m going to the police precinct. We don’t have the same destination.” He stared at me for two seconds, realizing I wasn’t joking. A flicker of genuine anxiety finally surfaced in his eyes. “Why are you going to the police station?” I glanced past him, looking directly at Chloe in the passenger seat. Two nights ago, I was working late at the office. My direct manager corners me and aggressively sexually harassed me. I barely managed to fight him off and escape. Sobbing uncontrollably, I called Ethan, begging him to come pick me up. Before I could even get the words out, he cut me off. “Chloe got way too drunk at a networking dinner. I have to go grab her, then I’ll swing by and get you.” But from the moment the police arrived, processed the crime scene, and took my official statement… Ethan never showed up. The psychological trauma from that night was still buried deep in my chest like a cluster of needles. I had absolutely no desire to explain it to him now. “It’s nothing.” Ethan frowned, opening his mouth to press the issue. But Chloe suddenly leaned over from the passenger seat, putting on a highly distressed, anxious face. “Ethan, Mike has texted me like three times already.” “If we’re late again tonight, they’re definitely going to force me to do penalty shots.” The hesitation in Ethan’s eyes instantly evaporated. He gave me a quick, dismissive nod. “I’ll drop her off at the restaurant, and then I’ll come find you.” The car tore off down the street, the engine roaring. I stood under the dull orange glow of the streetlight, letting out a soft, completely unsurprised laugh. On the Uber ride to the precinct, I pulled out my phone and drafted an official resignation letter to my company’s HR department. [I refuse to withdraw my police report.] [I am not the one who committed a crime.] Chapter 3 By the time I walked out of the police precinct, an hour had passed. Even though I didn’t have to look my attacker in the face, every time I had to walk into that building, the horrific, suffocating memories of that night came rushing back. If a stranger walked too close to me on the sidewalk, I instinctively flinched. My legs felt weak. Purely out of habit, I opened my messaging app. There wasn’t a single text from Ethan. Instead, I saw three new stories posted on Chloe’s Instagram. I clicked through each video. The camera was shaky and chaotic, but Ethan’s tall, distinctive silhouette was glaringly obvious in every single clip. He was standing protectively in front of her, physically blocking people from handing her drinks, and methodically peeling shrimp for her plate. When Chloe lost a drinking game, Ethan seamlessly stepped in to take the penalty shot for her. Watching them interact, they looked infinitely more like a deeply in-love couple than Ethan and I ever did. I was about to swipe out of the app when I noticed something gleaming on Chloe’s wrist in the video. My stomach violently dropped. It was my grandmother’s vintage jade bangle. I immediately hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of the restaurant where they were partying. When I pushed the door of the private dining room open, Ethan looked genuinely surprised to see me. “You’re done already? I was just about to leave to come get you.” I completely ignored him. I walked straight up to Chloe and held my hand out. “Give me my bracelet back.” Chloe instinctively shrank backward, hiding behind Ethan’s shoulder. She plastered a painfully awkward, guilty expression onto her face. “I’m so sorry, Maya. I completely forgot to ask you.” “I just thought the jade matched the dress I’m wearing so perfectly…” Ethan’s brow furrowed aggressively at her excuse. But as usual, his immediate reflex was to act as her human shield. “Maya, whatever the problem is, we can talk about it when we get home. Don’t cause a massive scene and ruin the night for everyone.” I stared at him in absolute, horrifying disbelief. “You know that bracelet is a priceless family heirloom. I am terrified of breaking it, so I leave it safely in my jewelry box. She wanted it, so she literally snuck into my room and took it without asking. And you’re defending her?!” “I didn’t steal it!” Chloe’s eyes instantly flooded with dramatic tears. “Fine! Let’s just drop it. You don’t need to scream at me over a piece of jewelry. I’ll give it back.” As she fumbled with the clasp to take it off, she couldn’t resist twisting the knife. “I know you’re not usually this insanely petty. You’re just taking it out on me because you’re still pissed that Ethan abandoned you two nights ago to come pick me up, right?” “If it bothers you that much, fine. From now on, I will completely remove myself from your relationship…” I froze, completely bewildered. “What the hell are you talking about?” Chloe widened her eyes, feigning absolute, innocent shock. “Wait, on Tuesday night? When you called him crying? He was literally parked outside your office building waiting for you.” “But when he heard that guys were trying to force me to take shots, he decided to…” She stopped abruptly, covering her mouth as if she had just accidentally spilled a horrific secret. I stood completely paralyzed. The blood in my veins turned to ice. So, when I was trapped in a dark supply closet, shaking so violently I couldn’t even hold my phone steady… When the police were interrogating me while my attacker was screaming through the door that he was going to ruin my career… When my own HR department was threatening to fire me if I didn’t withdraw the charges, and I was spending the entire night staring at the ceiling in absolute terror… In the exact moment when I was begging for my life, Ethan was parked directly outside my building. But he consciously chose to hang up on me, and drove away to rescue Chloe from a drinking game. I reached out, my hands trembling violently, intending to take the jade bracelet back. The second my fingertips brushed against the stone. Chloe intentionally relaxed her grip and let the bracelet slip. As the heavy jade fell toward the hardwood floor, I panicked. I didn’t even have time to swat Chloe’s hand out of the way; I just dove to catch it. But Chloe let out a piercing shriek and dramatically threw her entire body weight sideways, collapsing toward the floor. Ethan reacted with lightning speed, catching her perfectly in his arms. His face morphed into a mask of pure, homicidal rage. “Maya, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” “Over a stupid bracelet, you’re going to physically assault her?!” I stared blankly at the furious, hateful glare he was directing at me. Tears finally spilled over my lashes, completely out of my control. I thought about that night in the supply closet. I thought about the sheer, agonizing isolation of sitting in that police station alone. My voice shook violently as I asked: “In your mind, is Chloe the only person whose problems actually matter?” Ethan opened his mouth to bark a response, but Chloe immediately cut him off, sobbing into his chest. “Maya, I know you have severe insecurity issues, but Ethan and I honestly have nothing going on between us…” Ethan looked down at Chloe sobbing against his shirt. The fleeting hesitation in his eyes instantly evaporated. “Maya, if Chloe and I were actually hooking up, do you honestly think you would still be standing here as my girlfriend?” The second the words left his mouth. The entire room of his frat brothers and coworkers aggressively chimed in to back him up. “Seriously. They’ve known each other way longer than you’ve been around. They’re basically siblings. There’s zero reason to be this toxically paranoid.” “Honestly, if Chloe hadn’t actively stepped aside, you never would have had a chance with Ethan anyway.” “…” The room was flooded with judgmental, disgusted stares. Every single person in the room looked at me like I was a psychotic, jealous killjoy. Ethan maintained his protective stance over Chloe, glaring at me in absolute, stony silence. A harsh, self-deprecating smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. I gripped my grandmother’s jade tightly in my fist, turned my back on the room, and walked out. Chloe nervously tugged on Ethan’s sleeve. “Maybe… maybe you should go after her and calm her down?” Ethan’s voice was like freezing metal behind me. “You don’t understand how she works. You have to ice her out for a day. Otherwise, her ego gets completely out of control.” A wave of mocking laughter erupted from the table. But Ethan was wrong. This time, I didn’t need him to calm me down. Chapter 4 After walking out of the restaurant, I didn’t go back to the apartment. I booked a room at a nearby hotel for the night. I couldn’t stand the thought of spending another second in the apartment I had shared with Ethan for five years. And for the entire night, my phone remained completely silent. Not a single text from him. The next morning, after checking out of the hotel, I was mentally preparing to go back to the apartment, pack my bags, and drive to my parents’ house. Just as I was hailing a cab, my younger brother called me. “Maya… Mom’s heart condition flared up again… you need to get home right now…” My lungs stopped working. I sprinted to a cab and gave the driver my address. When I burst through the front door of the apartment, Ethan was standing in the entryway, holding Chloe’s designer suitcase, preparing to walk out. Seeing me rush in, Ethan actually looked relieved. Assuming that my brief disappearing act was already over, he casually slipped back into his authoritative, logistical tone: “Maya, perfect timing.” “Chloe wasn’t able to secure a train ticket back to her hometown for the holiday weekend, so I’m going to drive her. I won’t be coming with you to your parents’ house.” My brain was entirely focused on the emergency. I rushed forward and grabbed his arm. My voice was shaking uncontrollably. “My mom is in the hospital… can you please, please just drive me home right now?” The fastest commercial flight available didn’t board for another three hours. The absolute fastest way to get there was to hop on the interstate and drive. “Didn’t she just get a clean bill of health at her physical last month?” I shook my head violently, preparing to explain the severity of the situation. But Chloe let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh. “Maya, I know you’re still pissed about last night, but you really don’t need to manufacture a family emergency just to manipulate the situation.” She looked at Ethan, putting on a masterclass in martyrdom. “Whatever, just drive her. I’ll just sit at the station and pray I can snag a standby ticket…” Chloe grabbed her suitcase handle, pretending to walk away. Ethan immediately grabbed her arm, pulling her back. The brief flash of concern that had crossed his face instantly vanished, replaced by an exhausted, cynical glare. “You have way too much luggage, and the transfers to your hometown are a nightmare.” He turned his head and looked at me. “Maya, act like an adult.” “I already bought your ticket. If you leave for the station right now, you’ll make it.” I stood frozen, staring at the screenshot of the ticket confirmation he forwarded to my phone. It was a coach train ticket. A ten-hour ride. The purchase timestamp was from yesterday morning. They had planned this entire road trip together, days in advance. And I was the only person kept completely in the dark. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood, violently fighting back the tears. “So you never actually intended to come home with me?” Seeing my pale, bloodless face, Ethan softened his tone slightly. “Plans changed. Besides, it’s not like I’m disappearing forever. We can discuss the wedding logistics when we go back for Christmas. It’s exactly the same.” He reached his hand out, trying to grab mine. I let out a weak, bitter laugh and aggressively dodged his touch. “Don’t bother.” I turned around and marched into the bedroom to grab my ID and a duffel bag. Behind me, Chloe’s sickly-sweet, fake-apologetic voice drifted down the hall: “Don’t fight because of me… maybe I should just…” Ethan’s voice was completely flat and indifferent. “Just ignore her.” The back of my nose burned like acid. I forced myself not to look back. When I walked out of the bedroom a minute later, the entryway was completely empty. I didn’t waste another second. I ran out of the building, flagged down a taxi, and paid the driver an exorbitant amount of cash to drive me three states away, directly to my hometown. … Five days later, the holiday weekend ended. Ethan returned to our apartment. When he unlocked the door, the apartment was dark. I wasn’t there. Assuming I was just giving him the silent treatment, Ethan pulled out his phone and typed out a text. [Are you not back yet?] But the exact second he hit send, a bright red exclamation point popped up on the screen. Message Not Delivered. He froze, completely bewildered. He tried to call me. My number had been disconnected. Panic slowly setting in, he drove to my corporate office building, only for the front desk receptionist to inform him that I had officially resigned days ago. While standing in the lobby, the lobby televisions were playing a local news broadcast. It was a viral video regarding a massive workplace sexual harassment lawsuit at a local tech firm. The man whose face was plastered across the screen… was my direct manager. “Regarding the allegations levied by Ms. Quinn, I categorically deny all charges. My legal team is preparing a vicious defamation lawsuit against her.” “Furthermore, she was not terminated; she voluntarily abandoned her position…” All the blood violently drained from Ethan’s face.

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Chapter 1 While grocery shopping for mooncakes to take home for the Mid-Autumn Festival, I snapped a picture of three different flavors and sent it to our group chat. [Which ones do you guys want? I’ll pick them up now.] My best friend, Chloe, replied: [Whatever, I’m fine with anything.] My boyfriend, Ryan, replied: [I’ll just have whatever she’s having.] In the end, I grabbed three boxes of the lotus seed paste with salted egg yolk. But when I returned to the apartment carrying three identical gift boxes, Ryan gave me a look of exasperated resignation and exchanged a knowing smile with Chloe. “When Chloe says ‘whatever,’ she doesn’t actually mean ‘whatever’.” “Her dad loves the salted egg yolk, her mom likes red bean paste, and she prefers the snow-skin durian ones.” “You were supposed to buy one of each.” I looked at the three boxes of mooncakes sitting on the table and didn’t say a word. I’ve been with Ryan for five years, and he has always been infinitely better at decoding my best friend’s hidden meanings than mine. When we go out to eat and ask if she wants a booth or a table, she always says “whatever.” But Ryan always instinctively knows to save her the corner booth seat, tucked away from the aisle. I am always the one sitting in the aisle. When we were planning our graduation trip and asked if she preferred Miami or Colorado, she said “whatever.” Before I even had a chance to look at flights, Ryan had already booked everything and planned a full itinerary for Colorado—the place Chloe secretly wanted to go. And when I was hospitalized with a perforated ulcer, and he asked if I needed him to stay the night with me? I angrily told him “whatever.” And he took it completely literally, leaving me alone in the hospital. Ryan was a master at deciphering Chloe’s “whatevers,” effortlessly delivering the perfect, unstated answer every single time. But when it came to my unspoken needs? He never seemed to hear them once. If that’s the case, I guess I don’t need to explicitly say the word ‘breakup’ either. … Ryan sighed heavily. “I guess I’ll just have to go back to the store and buy them again.” Chloe quickly shook her head, putting on a bashful, guilty expression. “No, please don’t go through the trouble! Any brand of mooncake is totally fine.” But Ryan had already grabbed his car keys and was heading for the door. I watched his retreating back, feeling a dull numbness settle over me. That specific high-end bakery was an hour away by subway. With the holiday weekend approaching, traffic would be a nightmare. Just a few days ago, when I asked him if he could give me a ride there to buy gifts for my parents… He complained it was too much of a hassle and said there was no need to drive all the way across town. My phone buzzed in my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts. It was the group chat. Chloe had sent Ryan a message. [Since you’re driving past the boba shop on your way back anyway, could you grab two drinks for me and Mia? Please?] Ryan replied instantly: [What do you guys want?] Chloe: [Whatever.] Ryan simply replied: [Okay.] It wasn’t until an entire hour later that he realized I hadn’t answered. [@Mia, stop overthinking it, just tell me what you want.] I swiped up on my screen, copied Chloe’s exact message, and pasted it into the chat. [Whatever.] The group chat went completely dead. I looked over at Chloe, who was lounging on the sofa. Half a month ago, she claimed her lease was up and asked to crash on our couch for “a few days” to shorten her commute. It’s been two weeks, and I haven’t heard a single word about this supposed new apartment she’s looking for. When Ryan finally walked back through the door, Chloe’s high-pitched squeal almost shattered my eardrums. “Oh my god, how did you know I wanted this one?! You even got the limited-edition collaboration cup and the keychain!” I glanced at the brand-new, seasonal boba drink and the exclusive merchandise in her hands. Then, I looked at the basic, buy-one-get-one-free iced tea he was holding out to me. I didn’t take it. Ryan frowned, an irritated crease forming between his brows. “What is it now?” “You forgot. I just had stomach surgery. I can’t drink ice-cold beverages right now.” He froze for a second. “You didn’t make that clear in the text.” I opened the group chat, scrolling back to show him the exchange between him and Chloe, and held the phone up to his face. “She didn’t specify what she wanted either.” He stared at me for two beats, then suddenly let out a short, cynical laugh. “Are you seriously picking a fight over this? If you want one, I’ll buy you the exact same thing tomorrow.” “Next time, just use your words and tell me what you want.” The exact same phrase. When Chloe uses it, he decodes it in a millisecond and delivers a gesture that touches her very soul. When I use it, he can’t be bothered to ask, and he certainly can’t be bothered to guess. Ryan reached out, attempting to pull me closer. “Alright, enough. I picked up the mooncakes for your parents while I was out.” I reached into the bag and pulled out a box of the lava custard mooncakes. It was my mother’s absolute favorite. When I went to the store earlier today, the shelves for this specific brand were completely empty. When I was checking out, I had casually complained about it to Ryan over the phone. I didn’t expect him to actually remember. I took a deep breath. I was just about to ask him what time we were leaving to drive back to my hometown tomorrow. We had previously agreed that we would use this holiday visit to officially discuss setting a wedding date with my parents. But before I could speak, Chloe practically skipped over, eyeing the shopping bags with an exaggerated look of overwhelmed delight. “Wow, you actually bought eight different flavors! It’s so hard to choose!” My chest tightened. Before I could even react, Ryan reached out and took the mooncakes back from me. “If you like them, just take them all.” “You have a huge family anyway, I’m sure they’ll all get eaten.” I stared at him, stunned. “Didn’t you just say those were for my parents?” “Your parents aren’t picky. The three boxes of lotus paste you bought are more than enough.” A sudden, sharp sting hit the back of my nose. Last Thanksgiving, I spent hours picking out an expensive gourmet gift basket for my family. I didn’t find out until we arrived at my parents’ house that Ryan had swapped it out and given the expensive one to Chloe. His excuse back then was identical to the one he was using now. “Stop being so petty. Your parents won’t even be able to taste the difference.” But what he didn’t know was that the cheap, off-brand basket Chloe bought had given my parents severe food poisoning. They were violently ill for three days. If my younger brother hadn’t called to warn me a few days ago, I wouldn’t have even known it happened. Seeing that I refused to let go of the gift bag, Ryan pulled harder. His tone turned sharp and impatient. “It’s literally a box of mooncakes. Is it really worth fighting over?” The paper handles of the bag dug sharply into my palms, leaving red, stinging marks. I let go. And then, I smiled. “You’re right. It’s not worth it.” A relationship like this… isn’t worth fighting for anymore. Chapter 2 Seeing me yield, the tension in Ryan’s face finally relaxed. He reached out and affectionately ruffled my hair, just like he always did. “Alright. We have that get-together with my friends tonight, remember?” “Hurry up and change, we’re going to be late.” Chloe, as if suddenly remembering, rushed to her suitcase and pulled out a dress, shoving it into my hands. “Ryan bought this specifically for you! Try it on, we’ll wait for you downstairs.” I stared at the dress. It was the newest arrival from a designer brand I had been talking about for months but couldn’t bring myself to buy. But the tag on the collar clearly read ‘Size Small.’ Chloe’s size. And the fabric carried a faint, lingering scent. It had obviously been worn by Chloe already. I tossed the dress onto the sofa. It felt like a massive boulder was sitting directly on my chest. I couldn’t catch my breath. My phone buzzed twice. It was Ryan. [Are you coming down?] I tapped the text box. Before I could even type a reply, a second message popped up. [Grab a jacket for Chloe, it’s getting windy out tonight.] He wasn’t asking why I was taking so long. He just wanted me to act as Chloe’s personal assistant. I stopped typing and walked over to the window, looking down at the street below. Ryan’s car was idling by the curb. Chloe was sitting in the passenger seat, her head tilted back, drinking water out of the matching couple’s thermos I had bought for him. And it wasn’t just the thermos. Over the past two weeks since Chloe moved in… She wore Ryan’s house slippers, claiming the larger size was “so much comfier.” She would casually slip on his white button-down shirts, saying men’s clothing had “better fabric” and the oversized fit made the perfect pajamas. Since they worked at the same company, it became a matter of convenience that they commuted together every single day. And that passenger seat… had effectively become her exclusive territory. And Ryan? He never rejected a single one of these intrusions. In the beginning, I didn’t think much of it. They had known each other longer than I had known him. When Ryan was pursuing me, and through all our breakups and makeups over the last five years, Chloe had always played the mediator. I convinced myself that if there was going to be anything between them, it would have happened long before I came into the picture. But looking down at them now, the reality finally snapped into focus. Every single boundary had been completely obliterated. Right then, a text message from the police precinct popped up on my screen. [Ms. Hayes, regarding the police report you filed the day before yesterday, we need you to come down to the station to answer a few follow-up questions.] I took a deep, steadying breath and finally walked downstairs. When Chloe saw me approach the car, she made a theatrical show of unbuckling her seatbelt. “Oh, sorry Mia. I’ve gotten so used to sitting here lately. Here, you take the front.” Ryan noticed I wasn’t wearing the new dress, and I wasn’t carrying a jacket. A flicker of extreme annoyance crossed his face. He reached over and pulled Chloe firmly back into the passenger seat. “Don’t bother switching. We don’t have time to waste.” I didn’t say a word. I just kept walking right past the car. Ryan froze, then slammed his foot on the gas, cutting off my path. He got out and grabbed my arm. “Mia, what exactly is your problem now?” “No problem. We just aren’t heading in the same direction.” He let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “What does that mean?” “You guys are going to a party. I’m going to the police station. It’s not on the way.” He stared at me for two seconds, realizing I wasn’t just throwing a tantrum. A flicker of genuine anxiety finally surfaced in his eyes. “Why are you going to the police station?” I glanced at Chloe sitting comfortably in the passenger seat. Two nights ago, while working late at the office, my manager attempted to sexually assault me. I barely managed to fight him off and escape. I hid in a supply closet, sobbing hysterically, and called Ryan, begging him to come get me. Before I could even finish my sentence, he cut me off. “Chloe got totally wasted at a networking dinner. Let me go pick her up, and then I’ll come get you.” I stayed hidden in that closet, shaking so violently I dropped my phone. I waited through the police arriving, taking my statement, processing the scene, and photographing my bruises. I waited for hours. He never showed up. The trauma of that night still felt like shattered glass embedded in my chest. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “It’s nothing.” Ryan frowned, clearly preparing to interrogate me further. Chloe suddenly leaned her head out the window, looking incredibly stressed. “Ryan, my boss has already texted me three times.” “If we’re late again tonight, he’s definitely going to force me to do tequila shots as punishment.” The hesitation in Ryan’s eyes vanished instantly. He gave me a quick, dismissive instruction. “I’ll drop her off first, then I’ll come find you.” The car sped off, the engine roaring. I stood under the dull glow of the streetlight, letting out a soft, completely unsurprised laugh. On the Uber ride to the police precinct, I pulled out my phone and drafted my official resignation letter to my company’s HR department. [I will not drop the charges.] [I am not the one who committed a crime.] Chapter 3 By the time I walked out of the police precinct, over an hour had passed. Even though I didn’t have to face my attacker directly, every time I stepped inside that building, the horrific memories of that night forced their way back to the surface. Whenever a man walked too close to me on the sidewalk, I instinctively flinched and tried to back away. My legs were still trembling slightly. Out of habit, I opened my messages. There wasn’t a single text from him. Instead, I saw that Chloe had posted three new Instagram stories in a row. I tapped through the videos. In the shaky, poorly-lit footage of a crowded bar, Ryan’s tall silhouette was unmistakable. He was standing protectively in front of her, physically blocking other guys from handing her drinks, and peeling shrimp for her at the table. When Chloe lost a drinking game, Ryan smoothly stepped in and took the penalty shot for her. The way they interacted looked infinitely more like a couple than we ever did. I was just about to close the app when I noticed the bracelet on Chloe’s wrist in the video. My heart plummeted into my stomach. That was the vintage jade bangle my grandmother had left me before she died… I immediately hailed a cab and sped toward the bar where the party was being held. When I walked into the private room, Ryan looked genuinely surprised. “You’re done at the station? I was just about to leave and come get you.” I didn’t even look at him. I walked straight up to Chloe and held out my hand. “Give me my bracelet back.” Chloe instinctively shrank back, hiding behind Ryan’s shoulder. She put on a masterclass in looking innocent and conflicted. “I’m so sorry, Mia. I forgot to ask you.” “I just thought the jade matched the dress I was wearing tonight perfectly…” Ryan frowned deeply when he heard that. But his instinct, as always, was to run interference for her. “Mia, whatever this is about, we can talk about it when we get home. Don’t make a scene in front of everyone.” I stared at him in absolute disbelief. “You know perfectly well that I don’t even wear that bracelet because I’m terrified of breaking it. If she likes jade so much, she can go buy her own. Why did she go into my room and steal it?” “I didn’t steal it.” Chloe’s eyes instantly filled with tears, beating me to the punch. “Fine, whatever. Don’t let this ruin your night. I’ll just give it back.” She made a show of tugging the bracelet off her wrist and shoving it toward my hand. But before I even reached out to take it, she continued: “I know you’re not usually this petty over jewelry. I know you’re just lashing out because you’re still mad that Ryan left you hanging to come pick me up the other night, right?” “If it bothers you that much, I promise I’ll never get involved in your relationship again…” My mind went completely blank. “What exactly does that mean?” Chloe feigned shock, clapping a hand over her mouth like she had accidentally spilled a secret. “When you called him crying that night, he was already parked outside your office building.” “But when he heard I was getting aggressively hit on by clients…” She trailed off, executing the “oops, I said too much” routine flawlessly. I stood completely paralyzed, the blood in my veins turning to ice. So, while I was trapped in that closet, sobbing and begging for help… he was literally sitting right downstairs. But he still chose to hang up on me and drive away to go save Chloe. I felt like a hollow shell as I mechanically reached out to take the bracelet. The very second my fingertips brushed against Chloe’s skin… She let go of the jade bangle prematurely. As the priceless heirloom plummeted toward the hardwood floor, I didn’t even have time to shove her out of the way to try and catch it. Chloe let out a bloodcurdling shriek and dramatically threw herself sideways onto the floor. Ryan caught her with lightning speed, pulling her safely into his arms. His face instantly darkened into a mask of pure fury. “Mia! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” “Are you actually attacking her over a piece of jewelry?!” I stared blankly at the murderous look in his eyes. Tears finally broke past my defenses, spilling relentlessly down my face. I remembered huddling in the dark supply closet, my hands shaking so violently I couldn’t even grip my phone. I remembered the police aggressively questioning me for details while my attacker screamed from the hallway that he was going to destroy my career. I remembered the crippling insomnia that had tortured me every night since my company HR threatened me to drop the charges. And in the very moment I needed him the absolute most… His entire universe was focused entirely on Chloe. I fought back the humiliating sob in my throat and asked, my voice trembling: “In your mind… is Chloe the only person whose problems actually matter?” Ryan opened his mouth to reply, but Chloe cut him off, her voice thick with tears. “Mia, I know you’ve always felt insecure, but I swear on my life, Ryan and I are just friends…” Ryan looked down at Chloe, sobbing quietly against his chest. Any hesitation or guilt he might have felt vanished completely. “Mia, if there was actually anything romantic going on between me and Chloe, do you honestly think you would still have a place here?” The second he said it. The rest of the people in the room chimed in like a Greek chorus. “Seriously. They’ve known each other forever. They’re basically siblings. There’s no need to act like a psycho, jealous girlfriend.” “If Chloe hadn’t actively played matchmaker and stepped aside, Mia wouldn’t even be dating him right now.” “…” The room was saturated with judgmental, mocking stares. They all thought I was a psychotic, dramatic bitch ruining the party. Ryan stood there, maintaining his protective stance over Chloe, staring at me in stony silence. I let out a harsh, self-deprecating laugh. I gripped my grandmother’s bracelet so tightly my knuckles turned white, turned around, and walked out of the private room. Chloe gently pushed against Ryan’s chest. “Maybe you should go after her and talk to her?” Behind me, Ryan’s voice was as cold and sharp as a scalpel. “You guys don’t understand her. If I try to coax her now, it’ll just make her worse. Let her stew for a day, and she’ll calm down.” A wave of mocking laughter echoed out into the hallway. But this time, Ryan… I’m not going to need you to coax me ever again. Chapter 4 I didn’t go back to the apartment that night. I checked into a hotel nearby. I couldn’t stomach the thought of spending one more minute in the apartment I had shared with Ryan for five years. And true to his word, he didn’t send me a single message all night. Early the next morning, after checking out of the hotel, I was preparing to head back to the apartment to pack my bags and go stay with my parents. Just as I was about to unlock the front door, my younger brother called me in a panic. “Mia… Mom’s heart condition flared up again… you need to get home right now…” My breath hitched. I ripped the door open and rushed inside. I practically collided with Ryan, who was carrying Chloe’s designer suitcase toward the door. Seeing me walk in, Ryan let out a visible sigh of relief. He acted as if the explosive fight from last night had simply been erased from reality, his tone casual and authoritative. “Mia, perfect timing.” “Chloe’s train ticket got canceled, so I’m going to drive her home. I won’t be able to come with you to see your parents this weekend.” All I cared about right now was getting to the hospital. I grabbed his arm, my voice shaking violently. “My mom is in the hospital… can you please drive me home right now?” The earliest commercial flight wasn’t for another three hours. The absolute fastest way for me to get there was driving down the interstate. “Didn’t she just get a clean bill of health at her physical last month?” I shook my head frantically, opening my mouth to explain the situation. But Chloe let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh. “Mia, I know you’re still holding a grudge about last night, but there is absolutely no need to make up a story about your family being sick.” She looked up at Ryan, playing the role of the tragic, self-sacrificing martyr flawlessly. “Never mind. Just drive her. I’ll just sit at the station and wait to see if I can get a standby ticket.” Chloe grabbed the handle of her suitcase and made a move toward the door. Ryan immediately grabbed her arm, pulling her back. The brief flash of concern for my mother completely vanished from his eyes, replaced entirely by deep, overwhelming exhaustion. “You have way too much luggage. Taking the train with transfers is going to be incredibly stressful for you.” He turned to look at me, his voice dropping into a harsh, lecturing tone. “Mia, grow up.” “I already bought your train ticket. If you leave for the station right now, you’ll make it.” I stared blankly at the confirmation screenshot he forwarded to my phone. A coach ticket. A ten-hour ride. The purchase timestamp was from yesterday morning. So, they had planned to drive home together all along. I was the only one kept entirely in the dark. I fought back the tears threatening to spill over. “So you never had any intention of coming home with me this weekend?” Seeing my pale, devastated expression, Ryan’s tone softened a fraction. “Plans changed. And besides, I’m not going anywhere. We can discuss the wedding details when we go back for Thanksgiving.” He reached out, trying to take my hand. I let out a bitter laugh, aggressively swatting his hand away. “Don’t bother.” I walked past them, heading straight into the bedroom to grab my ID and pack a quick bag. From the hallway, I heard Chloe’s fake, sugary voice trying to play peacemaker. “Please don’t fight over me. Maybe I should just…” Ryan’s response was flat and devoid of emotion. “Ignore her.” My nose stung violently, but I forced myself not to turn around. When I walked back out into the living room, the apartment was completely empty. I didn’t waste another second. I ran to the main road, flagged down a cab, and paid an exorbitant fee to have the driver take me straight down the interstate to my hometown. … Five days later, the holiday weekend officially ended, and Ryan hurried back to our apartment. When he unlocked the door, the apartment was completely dark and empty. Thinking my silence over the last few days was just me holding a grudge, Ryan pulled out his phone and sent me a text. [Are you still not back yet?] The moment he hit send, a bright red exclamation point popped up on the screen. Message Failed to Deliver. He froze in confusion. He tried calling me. The automated voice informed him the number had been blocked. Finally, he drove to my office building, only to have the HR receptionist inform him that I had resigned days ago. And then, she showed him the viral video exposing the sexual harassment case I was involved in. He recognized the man in the video instantly. It was my direct supervisor, Mr. Davis. In the video, Mr. Davis was speaking to a crowd of reporters: “Regarding Ms. Hayes’ malicious and entirely fabricated allegations of sexual harassment, I have retained premier legal counsel.” “Furthermore, she was not terminated; she abandoned her position and resigned voluntarily…” All the color instantly drained from Ryan’s face. Chapter 5 Ryan’s hands shook violently as he replayed the video over and over again. He couldn’t believe the woman Mr. Davis was talking about was me. And he couldn’t believe that something this catastrophic had happened to me, and I had hidden the entire thing from him. In his mind, I had always been the fragile girl who would call him crying just because her boss gave her a slightly harsh performance review. He stood rigidly in the corporate lobby, staring at the receptionist, who was looking at him with undisguised judgment. His voice trembled uncontrollably when he finally spoke. “When… when exactly did this happen?” “It happened before the holiday weekend started. Probably the night of the 22nd.” The 22nd… Ryan frowned, desperately trying to trace his memories back to that date. The tiny, overlooked details and fragmented memories began to violently snap into place in his mind. It was the night Chloe went to her college alumni networking dinner. That phone call… the one he had aggressively cut short… he could suddenly remember the horrific, panicked, terrifying sounds of me crying in the background. I had begged him to come pick me up from work. But at the time, he had absolutely zero patience to listen. He had automatically assumed it was just me complaining about another mundane, stressful day at the office. He felt irritated and overwhelmed, and he just didn’t want to hear it. So he hung up, turned the steering wheel, and drove straight to pick up Chloe instead. So it was that night… Ryan gripped his hands into fists so tight his fingernails dug into his palms. A volatile mix of devastating heartbreak and sheer horror began to consume his entire body, causing him to shake uncontrollably. It felt like a roaring fire had been ignited in his chest, threatening to burn him alive from the inside out. He disregarded the security protocols and bolted past the reception desk, sprinting toward the executive offices. He was going to find the man in that video. But before he could even reach the main office doors, two security guards intercepted him. The veins on Ryan’s forehead were bulging dangerously. He screamed into the office suite. “Davis! Get the fuck out here right now!” “He’s not here.” A woman, likely the HR director, stepped in front of him, looking incredibly annoyed. “And who exactly are you? If you aren’t an employee of this company, I’m going to ask you to leave immediately.” Ryan stared past her, looking at my empty cubicle. It felt like an invisible hand was brutally crushing his windpipe. “I’m Mia Hayes’ boyfriend…” Before he could even finish the sentence. Someone in the crowd of watching employees let out a cynical, mocking laugh. “Oh, so he’s here to play the white knight for Mia… Talk about being late to the party. This happened a week ago.” “Seriously. The receptionist just texted me that he didn’t even know she quit until five minutes ago.” Every single word felt like a jagged knife plunging repeatedly into Ryan’s chest. He wanted to scream and defend himself. He wanted to tell them that I had hidden it from him, that I hadn’t told him anything. If he had known, he never would have gone to pick up Chloe that night. But he opened his mouth, and absolutely no sound came out. He remembered the night of the party, when I told him I was going to the police station. He had completely brushed it off as a dramatic lie. And the day he drove Chloe home for the holidays, when I looked ghostly pale and told him my mother was hospitalized, begging him to drive me home… The realization finally crashed down on him like a ton of bricks. Everything I had said was the absolute truth. He instinctively reached for his phone to dial my number, only to be hit with the agonizing reminder that I had completely blocked him. Ryan stared wildly at the desk phone sitting on a nearby cubicle. Ignoring the security guards, he lunged for it and frantically dialed my cell number. The moment the call connected, his heart leaped into his throat. “Mia, it’s me…” Click. The call was disconnected immediately. The desperate, suffocating apologies and words of comfort he had been rehearsing in his mind died instantly in his throat. The HR director lost her patience and gestured sharply to the security guards. “Whether you’re looking for Mia or Mr. Davis, neither of them are here.” “If you continue to cause a disturbance in this office, I am calling the police.” Ryan staggered out of the office building and drove back to our apartment like a ghost. The moment he pushed open the bedroom door, his eyes locked onto the engagement ring sitting perfectly in the center of my desk. It was the ring he had slipped onto my finger when he proposed six months ago. His heart felt like it was being systematically shredded. He gripped the ring so tightly the diamond dug painfully into his palm. In that moment, he only had one thought in his entire brain: he had to see me. But just as he turned to run back out the door. Chloe sprinted out of her bedroom, looking frantic. “Ryan, something terrible is happening! The internet is exploding with hate campaigns against Mia!” Ryan snatched his phone out of his pocket in sheer confusion. Trending at the very top of Twitter was a brand-new press release issued by Mr. Davis just thirty minutes ago. [Regarding the malicious allegations and defamation perpetrated against me by Ms. Hayes, I have compiled a comprehensive dossier of irrefutable evidence.] [The documentation provided below proves conclusively that Ms. Hayes initiated entirely consensual, unsolicited advances toward me over a prolonged period. This entire incident is a fabricated, extortionate PR stunt orchestrated solely by her.]

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Riding on the coattails of being her childhood best friend, I clung to Chloe Thorne’s world for twenty years. Everyone knew I was the annoying, persistent shadow she couldn’t shake off. But on the exact day she bought her brand-new car, I suddenly dropped the attitude entirely and acted like a perfectly obedient ghost. Even Chloe found the sudden shift unsettling. She drove through a torrential downpour late that night just to rush back to our shared apartment. For the first time in her life, she actually softened her tone and offered an explanation. “I didn’t let you get in the car tonight because Julian is a germaphobe. He couldn’t handle the smell of grease and smoke from your diner.” “I saw the rain wasn’t too heavy, so I just dropped him off first. Can you please stop giving me the silent treatment?” Ah. It was because of Julian Vance’s delicate, aristocratic aversion to the smell of blue-collar work. I offered a faint, placid smile. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.” I really didn’t. In three days, I was boarding a flight to New York to attend the Culinary Institute of America. After that, no one would have to smell anyone else ever again. 1 Chloe stood in the entryway, her brow furrowed. She looked as if she was bracing herself for me to erupt into a screaming match. Because for the last twenty years, anytime any male entity even orbited her space, I would throw a massive, jealous fit. Especially today. The day she picked up her brand-new Porsche Panamera. I ate cheap ramen with her for three months. I helped her draft and format dozens of pitch decks until she finally secured the massive corporate contract that allowed her to buy that car in cash. But the very first thing she did when she got the keys was open the passenger door for Julian. And then she drove off, leaving me standing alone on the curb outside the dealership. “You really don’t mind?” Chloe kicked off her heels, walking over to scrutinize my face. I was kneeling on the floor, packing clothes into my suitcase. I didn’t even look up. “I don’t. Julian is practically royalty. You taking care of him makes total sense.” Chloe’s frown deepened aggressively. She reached down and pinned my hand against a stack of shirts. “Evan, do not use that passive-aggressive tone with me.” “Julian doesn’t just have OCD; he has severe asthma. The smell from that greasy, run-down diner is too overpowering. It triggers his asthma attacks.” “If you’re really that upset, I’ll take you to the mall tomorrow and buy you those limited-edition Jordans you’ve been obsessing over. Does that work?” Jordans? I looked at her cold, stunningly beautiful face, and the sheer irritation radiating from it. I suddenly found the entire situation hilarious. I had been eyeing those sneakers for months. I intentionally starved myself of any luxuries just so I could save up enough cash to buy her a high-end dashcam as a gift for her new car. Meanwhile, her “welcome back” gift to Julian was a vintage Rolex that cost fifty grand. “No thanks. I don’t need shoes.” I gently pulled my hand out from under hers and shoved my last heavy sweater into the suitcase. Chloe finally registered the suitcase sitting on the floor. Her eyes turned to ice. “Evan, are you really pulling the dramatic ‘running away from home’ stunt again?” She used my full name. That was always the warning sign right before she exploded. “Every single time I don’t cater exactly to your feelings, you pack your bags and threaten to move back to your old house.” “You are twenty-five years old. You are a grown man. Can you please act like one?” I zipped up the suitcase, stood up, and looked directly into her eyes. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’m just taking my winter clothes to the dry cleaners.” Chloe froze. She ran a hand through her hair in deep frustration, her tone softening slightly. “Fine. I admit I was wrong today. I shouldn’t have left you in the rain.” “My stomach has been killing me all day. Go make me a bowl of noodles. Two fried eggs on top.” She issued the command with practiced ease, absolutely certain I would immediately drop everything, panic over her stomach pain, and rush into the kitchen. I looked at her hand pressing against her stomach. My mind flashed back to a photo she posted on Instagram just a few hours ago. A picture of her and Julian at a Michelin-star French restaurant, eating rich, heavy foie gras. “We’re out of noodles. Just order DoorDash.” I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked toward my bedroom. Chloe aggressively snatched my wrist. Her grip was so tight it instantly left a red mark. “Evan, I have spent the last ten minutes lowering myself to coax you, and you’re still pushing it?!” 2 A sharp, shooting pain radiated from my wrist. I instinctively jerked my arm back. Chloe’s eyes darted to the massive, jagged burn scar wrapping around my right forearm. Her expression flickered with guilt, and she finally let go. That scar was from when we were eighteen. Her family’s house caught fire, and I ran into the burning building to drag her out. Because of that scar and the nerve damage, I permanently lost my chance to pass the physical exam for the Air Force Academy. Instead, I picked up a spatula and took over the run-down, local diner my mother left me when she died. At the time, Chloe had held my bleeding, burned body in her arms, crying hysterically, swearing she would take care of me for the rest of her life. But now? Now she just felt that the smell of blue-collar grease on my clothes made her aristocratic, high-society crush feel nauseous. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’m just genuinely exhausted.” I rubbed my wrist, my voice completely devoid of any emotion. Chloe stared at me for a few seconds before letting out a cold, sharp laugh. “Fine. You won’t cook? Great. Then tomorrow, I’m calling a broker to sell off that pathetic little diner of yours!” “Julian covers his nose in disgust every time we even drive down that street. I’ve been wanting to shut that dump down for years.” My footsteps stopped dead. I turned around, staring at her in absolute disbelief. “Chloe, that diner is my mother’s entire life’s work. What right do you have to sell it?!” Seeing she finally got an emotional reaction out of me, a flash of vindictive satisfaction crossed her eyes. “Because the commercial deed to that property is legally in my name!” “Evan, just be obedient for once. Close the diner. Come work as an administrative assistant at my corporate office. Isn’t it better to just show up to work clean and professional every day?” “You spend all day marinating in that greasy, disgusting kitchen. You constantly reek of poverty and lower-class sweat. It’s incredibly embarrassing whenever I have to bring you to networking events.” The smell of poverty and lower-class sweat. Those words hit my chest like a sledgehammer. My lungs physically seized. For twenty years, I had stayed up late simmering bone broth for her. I operated that grueling, grease-trap of a diner just to scrape together enough cash to fund her first startup venture. And now that she was a highly successful CEO, she found the smell of my sacrifice “disgusting.” I took a deep breath, aggressively forcing down the burning acid in the back of my throat. “Do whatever you want.” I turned around, walked into my bedroom, and locked the door behind me. From the living room, I heard the violent crash of the coffee table being kicked over, followed by Chloe’s unhinged, screaming rage. “EVAN! Don’t think I won’t actually do it! If you dare open that diner tomorrow, I will have my security team smash your sign into pieces!” I leaned my back against the locked door, slowly sliding down until I hit the floor. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the plane ticket to New York. Two more days. Chloe, you only have to tolerate my “disgusting, lower-class sweat” for two more days. Early the next morning, I went straight to a downtown notary public. I legally transferred my 50% equity in the diner—the portion that was undeniably mine—free of charge, to a local restaurateur who had been trying to buy the location for years. The exact second I signed the final document, my phone started vibrating violently. It was Mike, my head shift manager at the diner. He sounded absolutely panicked. “Evan! Get down here right now! The CEO lady brought a demolition crew!” “They claim they’re gutting the place to build some high-end French bakery! They’re literally throwing all our equipment into the street!” My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles cracked. Chloe, you are absolutely ruthless. I hailed a cab and told the driver to floor it. Before the car even stopped, I saw the wooden sign—the one my mother had hand-painted decades ago—lying face-down in the muddy, rain-soaked gutter. Standing under a massive black umbrella held by Chloe, Julian Vance pinched his nose in theatrical disgust, looking at the pots and pans being hurled onto the sidewalk. “Chloe, this location is filthy. Are you absolutely certain we can rezone this into a luxury bakery?” 3 “Don’t worry, Julian. I’ll have the environmental team sterilize the entire lot. We’ll rip out the foundation and pour new concrete. I guarantee there won’t be a single molecule of grease left.” Chloe’s voice was incredibly soft and sweet. A complete 180 from the unhinged monster screaming at me last night. I shoved my way through the crowd of onlookers and instantly locked eyes on the old, beat-up wooden crate sitting at the very top of the debris pile. That crate was my life. It held my mother’s secret, handwritten recipe book. But more importantly, it held a small, hand-carved wooden spatula that Chloe had whittled for me when she was fifteen. She had accidentally sliced her thumb open making it. She held her bleeding hand, smiling brightly at me: “Evan, when you become a master chef, I’m going to be your sous-chef!” I didn’t even think. I lunged forward, desperately trying to grab the crate. “Evan! What the hell are you doing?!” Chloe violently grabbed my arm, yanking me backward with all her strength. I lost my footing on the slick, muddy pavement. I crashed hard into a puddle of grimy, oil-stained rainwater. My knee slammed into a piece of shattered tile. Blinding, agonizing pain shot up my leg. Julian let out a startled gasp and shrank back behind Chloe. “Chloe, he’s so dirty! Don’t let him touch me!” Chloe immediately shifted her body, shielding Julian behind her, glaring down at me with absolute, freezing contempt. “Evan, are you having a psychotic break? I warned you last night. This diner is permanently closed!” I completely ignored her. I scrambled on my hands and knees through the mud, desperately crawling toward the wooden crate. But it was too late. A massive, industrial garbage truck backed up. The hydraulic claw slammed down, mercilessly grabbing the entire pile of debris. “NO! STOP! MY MOTHER’S THINGS ARE IN THERE!” I screamed until my vocal cords tore. I tried to launch myself forward to block the mechanical arm. Chloe threw her arms around my waist, physically tackling me and pinning me to the pavement. “Enough! Evan!” “It’s literally a pile of garbage! Do you have to act like an absolute lunatic and humiliate me in public?!” CRACK. A deafening, splintering crunch echoed over the noise of the truck. I watched, utterly paralyzed, as the wooden crate was pulverized by the hydraulic claw. The little wooden spatula—the symbol of twenty years of friendship—snapped in half and dropped into the compactor. My mother’s yellowed, handwritten recipe book was compacted into a block of rotting trash. The entire world went completely, suffocatingly silent. I didn’t scream. I didn’t struggle. I lay perfectly still in the mud, letting Chloe drag me backward toward the curb. My sudden, dead-eyed silence clearly unsettled her. She let go of my waist, her tone shifting into a defensive, slightly panicked justification. “Evan… don’t be like this. It’s just a notebook. I’ll hire a Michelin-star chef to write you a brand-new recipe book.” “And that ugly wooden spatula? I’ll go to Tiffany’s tomorrow and buy you a solid gold one, okay?” I slowly lifted my head, looking at the woman I had loved for twenty years. She had absolutely no idea that tucked inside that recipe book was a sealed letter written by her own mother on her deathbed. A letter I had safeguarded for a decade. I had planned to give it to her next month on her thirtieth birthday, to finally give her closure on her mother’s passing. Now, it was gone forever. I suddenly started laughing. “Okay, Chloe. Solid gold. Make sure you don’t forget.” Chloe looked at my smile and physically shivered. She reached out, trying to touch my face, but I tilted my head, avoiding her hand. “Julian is waiting for you. Don’t let him smell the ‘lower-class sweat’ on me.” I braced my hand against the brick wall and slowly, agonizingly forced myself to stand up on my bleeding knee. Julian stepped forward. He handed me a crisp, white tissue. But his eyes were dripping with triumphant, predatory mockery. “Don’t be mad at Chloe, man. She’s doing this for your own good. How are you supposed to find a wife if you smell like a deep fryer all day?” I didn’t take the tissue. I just stared dead into his eyes. “Julian. You better pray to God you never have to work a blue-collar day in your entire pathetic life.” With that, I turned my back and limped away into the freezing rain. Behind me, Chloe’s voice cracked in a hysterical, desperate roar: “EVAN! If you walk away today, don’t you ever dare come back to my apartment!” 4 I didn’t turn around, and I didn’t stop walking. When I got back to the apartment, I systematically eradicated every single trace of my existence. Aside from a few changes of clothes and my acceptance letter to the Culinary Institute, I took absolutely nothing. I stood in the center of the empty living room, taking one last look at the place I had called home for five years. In the entryway, I left a pair of Chloe’s favorite fluffy slippers. In the kitchen, a pot of her favorite stomach-soothing pork rib and yam soup was simmering on the stove. I walked over to the dining table, pulled out a sticky note, and wrote a single sentence. “The soup is on the stove. Drink it while it’s hot.” I placed my apartment keys directly on top of the sticky note. Then, I grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and walked out the door without looking back. The third day was my departure date for New York. The weather was exceptionally beautiful. The sunlight streaming through the massive windows of the airport terminal was so bright it almost hurt my eyes. I sat in the boarding area, staring at Chloe’s contact photo on my phone. From yesterday until right now, she hadn’t sent a single text or made a single phone call. She undoubtedly assumed I was just playing hard to get, staging a dramatic silent treatment, waiting for her to come coax me back. Just as the gate agent announced the final boarding call, my phone started vibrating. It was Chloe. I hesitated for a fraction of a second, then hit accept. “Evan, what the fuck kind of game are you playing? You didn’t come home yesterday, and you’ve been screening my calls all morning!” Her voice was laced with aggressive, entitled impatience. In the background, I could hear the loud, clinking of champagne glasses and Julian’s manufactured, obnoxious laughter. “Chloe, come cut the cake! We’re waiting for you!” Right. Today was Julian’s birthday too. She was throwing a lavish party for her aristocratic crush, while I sat alone in an airport terminal, preparing to leave the country. “I’m not playing a game.” I watched an Airbus taxi down the runway, my voice perfectly, eerily calm. “Chloe. I just wanted to let you know that the soup on the stove has probably spoiled by now. Don’t drink it.” Chloe froze for a second before letting out a cold, cynical scoff. “Evan, stop using this pathetic, manipulative garbage to try and make me feel guilty! Did you honestly think your little disappearing act would make me come looking for you?” “I’m telling you right now. If you hang up this phone, we are completely, permanently done!” A soft, genuine smile pulled at the corners of my mouth, even as a tear broke free and crashed onto the back of my hand. “Okay.” I said exactly one word, and then I terminated the call without a microsecond of hesitation. I powered down the phone, popped the SIM tray open, pulled the card out, and dropped it directly into the nearest trash can. Chloe, we were permanently done a long time ago. From the exact moment you ordered a garbage truck to pulverize my mother’s memory. From the exact moment you looked me in the eye and called my scent “disgusting.” We could never, ever go back. I grabbed my suitcase and walked purposefully through the boarding gate. At the exact moment my flight breached the cloud line, miles away in the city center, Chloe pushed open the door to our shared apartment.

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My father’s employer stiffed him on his wages, so he had no choice but to take a bus into the city to find a lawyer. The old man didn’t know how to use the modern office elevator, so he forced himself to climb 20 flights of stairs just to walk into the law firm, clutching a crumpled, sweat-stained contract. “Arthur… could you take a look at this for me? The contractor owes me $20,000. What should I do?” As a founding partner of a prestigious downtown law firm, Arthur Hayes had taken on countless pro bono cases for stray dogs and local animal shelters. But in this exact moment, he was entirely focused on editing a law school thesis for his firm’s newest, youngest intern. “Twenty grand doesn’t even cover my retainer fee, Mr. Bennett. Sorry, I can’t take this case.” That one, freezing sentence. It made my father’s back—already bent from years of hauling concrete and steel—slump even lower. “Oh… well then, I won’t bother you…” He slowly pulled the paperwork back and stuffed it into his worn canvas bag. As he turned around, even his footsteps seemed heavy with a careful, timid apology. My nose stung violently, tears welling up in my eyes. I stood up, ready to march over and demand an explanation from Arthur. But my father grabbed my hand. “Mia, it’s okay. Dad’s fine. Arthur is a professional, he has rules he has to follow. Don’t be mad at him.” The tears I had been fighting back finally fell. I stood rooted to the spot, watching my father’s hunched silhouette shuffle step by step toward the door. And from the exact moment that door clicked shut. I suddenly realized I never wanted to be a family with Arthur Hayes ever again. … Watching my father’s defeated silhouette disappear, it felt like a match had been struck in my chest, incinerating every last ounce of my rationality. I stormed back into Arthur’s office, grabbed the thesis papers off his desk, and ripped them to shreds. “Are you insane?!” Arthur shot up from his leather chair. “Why won’t you take my dad’s case? Do you have any idea how long he was waiting for you out there?” “I am incredibly busy, Mia. I don’t have time for your tantrums.” “Busy? Busy editing your intern’s thesis? But you don’t have two minutes to look at my dad’s contract?” I scoffed coldly; the sheer hypocrisy of it all was suffocating. “I am an attorney, not a charity.” Arthur’s voice dropped to a glacial temperature. “Do you know what my hourly billable rate is? If I take your dad’s case, the firm loses money.” “But he’s your father-in-law!” I screamed. “So what?” Arthur’s tone grew even darker. “Everyone is equal under the law. Just because he’s a relative, I’m supposed to break professional protocol? If I take a petty claims case today, what will the other partners think of me tomorrow? How am I supposed to maintain my reputation in this industry?” “Arthur, do you even remember why you went to law school in the first place?” Arthur froze. I backed away from him as if I had touched something toxic, looking at him like he was a complete stranger. I didn’t know when it happened. But the man who used to spend hours digging through labor laws for undocumented workers, the man who fought aggressively to get court dates for abused stray cats… The Arthur Hayes who made me fall in love with him a thousand times over… he was completely, permanently gone. “People have to grow up and face reality, Mia. We can’t live in the past.” Ignoring his coldness, I stubbornly asked, “So ‘reality’ means turning your back on your own family?” “Can you please just be reasonable?” He aggressively yanked at his tie, looking annoyed. “My caseload is completely maxed out right now. I literally do not have the bandwidth to deal with your dad’s trivial bullshit.” No bandwidth? I stared down at the desk, looking at the torn pages of the intern’s thesis, covered in his meticulous, handwritten notes. Suddenly, I completely lost the desire to argue with him. “Let’s get a divorce, Arthur.” He froze instantly, the end of his tie slipping from his fingers. “Mia… what did you just say?” “I said, if this is how it is, we need to get a divorce.” As the words hung in the air, I was shocked to find that my heart didn’t actually hurt as much as I expected it to. Instead, it felt like a massive boulder had been lifted off my chest. I calmly turned and walked out of the office. Downstairs on the street level, my father hadn’t gotten very far. He refused to give up. He was shuffling along the block of high-end office buildings, knocking on doors and asking: “Excuse me, are you accepting new cases?” But the moment the receptionists heard the defendant was Bill Dawkins—a notoriously ruthless, bankrupt local developer who was famous for dodging debts—they all waved him off and kicked him out. It was 95 degrees outside, and the blazing sun beating down on my father made him look incredibly fragile and pathetic. I aggressively wiped the tears from my eyes and jogged to catch up to him. “Dad, please don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.” When my father saw me, he looked surprised and quickly raised his hand to block the glaring sun. “It’s boiling out here, what are you doing running around? I was just trying my luck, it’s no big deal.” Trying his luck. He rode a Greyhound bus for six hours and climbed twenty flights of stairs, just to try his luck? I opened my mouth, intending to tell him about the divorce. Right then, his flip phone rang. [Is this Mr. Bennett? This is Attorney Lewis. Mr. Hayes assigned me to handle your case.] When the call ended, a massive, relieved smile broke across my father’s weathered face. “Mia, did you hear that?” “Arthur got someone to help me! I told you, he has a good heart, he’s just really swamped with work!” The moment he said that, my own phone vibrated twice in my pocket. [I assigned Lewis to handle your dad’s case. Do not casually threaten divorce over petty arguments ever again.] I stared at the screen, stunned. When I looked up, my father was smiling warmly, pulling a plastic bag of small, stubby bananas from his canvas sack. “Your mom cut these fresh from the backyard this morning. She picked the short, fat ones specifically. The skin is thin, and they’re super sweet.” “Take them home and share them with Arthur. And please, don’t fight with him…” My eyes burned with fresh tears, and I hugged the bag of bananas tightly to my chest. “I promise, Dad. Just wait until the lawsuit is over.” Wait until I finalize my divorce from Arthur. “I will never let anyone treat you guys like this again.” Three days later, I used my PTO to accompany my father to the courthouse for the hearing. “Once we get that paycheck back, I’m going to buy your mom a nice new coat.” “And I can finally give your uncle some cash to help your cousin buy a laptop for college.” Just the thought of finally getting his hard-earned money back visibly improved the old man’s mood. He chattered excitedly the entire drive. But when we arrived at the courthouse exactly on time… Attorney Lewis, the man who had contacted my father three nights ago, had vanished into thin air. He wasn’t answering his phone. “Did Mr. Lewis get the time wrong?” My father sat at the plaintiff’s table, anxiously picking at the thick calluses on his hands. “Mia, Arthur set this up. Do you want to try calling Arthur and asking him?” Before I could even pull up Arthur’s contact, the heavy courtroom doors swung open. The person who walked in wasn’t Attorney Lewis. It was the defense attorney representing Bill Dawkins. It was Chloe Adams. The young intern whose thesis Arthur was meticulously editing instead of helping my father. At that exact moment, Attorney Lewis finally called me back. “I am so sorry, Mia. Arthur unexpectedly dispatched me out of state for an emergency corporate deposition. I had to drop your dad’s case.” As the call disconnected, Chloe’s voice rang out clearly across the courtroom. “Your Honor, I am Chloe Adams, representing the defense, Mr. Bill Dawkins, on behalf of the Hayes Law Group. The defense is ready to proceed.” Hayes Law Group. Defense Counsel… Those few words completely shattered the hopeful anticipation in my father’s heart. “Mia, Hayes Law Group… isn’t that your husband’s firm? What… what does Arthur mean by this?” My heart felt like it had been violently struck with a sledgehammer. I never imagined Arthur would intentionally sabotage us by pulling his lawyer at the last minute. But I never, in my darkest nightmares, imagined he would allow Chloe to flip my father from the plaintiff into the defendant. “The defense hereby files a countersuit against the plaintiff, Mr. Bennett, regarding this labor dispute.” “The grounds for the countersuit are as follows: First, during his tenure, Mr. Bennett managed a contracting crew that violated municipal building codes, resulting in substandard construction that caused direct, severe financial damages to my client.” Chloe continued ruthlessly, showing absolutely no mercy: “Second, during the construction process, the defendant, Mr. Bennett, utilized substandard materials, blatantly violating the terms of his contract. Third, Fourth…” “In conclusion, the defense respectfully requests the court order Mr. Bennett to compensate my client for all damages, totaling exactly $80,000.” The hearing lasted for two agonizing hours. Without legal representation, and without a single witness willing to testify on his behalf against a powerful developer. Even my desperate attempts to interject and plead his case were aggressively objected to and shut down. He stood there entirely alone, stammering and stuttering as he tried to explain. The more panicked he got, the more incoherent his defense became. The judge’s expression slowly shifted from sympathetic to visibly annoyed. We lost. By the end of the trial, the $20,000 in unpaid wages had quadrupled. It was now a court-ordered mandate for my father to pay Bill Dawkins $80,000 in damages. As we walked out of the courtroom, my father clutched the court order, his hands shaking violently. “It’s okay, Dad, it’s okay… I’ll figure something out.” I held his hand tightly, my nose burning with the desperate urge to cry. Right then, a sleek black Mercedes pulled up to the curb. When Arthur stepped out of the driver’s seat, the dead, defeated look in my father’s eyes suddenly flared with desperate hope. He gripped the court order and rushed toward him. “Arthur, you’re here! Did you come to help Dad…” But Arthur walked right past him. He walked right past me, too. He popped open a large umbrella and stopped directly in front of Chloe. “Good job in there. Are you exhausted? I made reservations at that French bistro you love to celebrate your first win.” Chloe smiled brightly and looped her arm through his. “It’s all thanks to you, Mr. Hayes! If you hadn’t helped me prep all the exhibits, I never would have felt confident enough to file a countersuit.” “You’re a naturally gifted litigator. I just helped polish the edges.” They laughed and joked, completely ignoring our existence, as they started walking down the courthouse steps. My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms they almost drew blood. I screamed after him: “Arthur Hayes! Are you fucking deaf?! Can you not hear my dad calling you?!” The air around us instantly froze. Bill Dawkins walked out of the courthouse, his eyes darting back and forth between Arthur and my father. “Mr. Hayes, is this man really your father-in-law?” Arthur didn’t even blink. “Never seen him before in my life.” The tension in Dawkins’ face instantly evaporated. He turned and glared viciously at my father. “You old piece of trash. Did you hear that? The big-shot lawyer doesn’t even know who you are. You actually had the balls to pretend to be his father-in-law? Why don’t you go look in a mirror and see how pathetic you are?” My father’s face turned a deep, mottled red. His lips trembled violently, but he couldn’t force a single word out. “Arthur, you absolute piece of shit!” I screamed again at the top of my lungs. But the man merely paused for a fraction of a second, before Chloe whined, “Mr. Hayes, I’m starving.” Without a moment’s hesitation, he started the Mercedes and sped away, leaving us in the dust. My father stood on the courthouse steps, clutching the devastating court order, his body swaying unsteadily. “Dad?!” I lunged forward to catch him. “Dad, what’s wrong?!” He looked at me. His cloudy, aged eyes were brimming with tears, but he absolutely refused to let them fall. “Mia… did Dad embarrass you today?” The dam finally broke, and my tears flooded down my face. “No, Dad, no…” “Then why… why won’t your husband claim me?” Even after I put him on a bus back to our rural hometown, I couldn’t give him an answer. For the very first time in my life, I hated myself for being so utterly powerless. I hated myself for marrying the wrong man. “Arthur, what the hell was that today?!” When I got back to our apartment, I genuinely thought Arthur would feel a shred of guilt or offer an apology. Instead, the moment I spoke, he slammed back with a ridiculous, defensive counter-attack: “What the hell was your problem today? Screaming my name in public like a lunatic while some random bricklayer tries to claim he’s related to me? Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?” “So that gives you the right to lie to me?! To intentionally pull my dad’s lawyer and let him get blindsided in court?! He lost his wages and now he owes $80,000!” I let out a harsh, bitter laugh, my eyes stinging with tears. A brief flash of discomfort crossed Arthur’s face, but he quickly recovered his arrogant composure. “I genuinely did assign Lewis to the case,” he said defensively. “But I honestly didn’t know Chloe had been retained by Dawkins.” “The other partners at the firm already think Chloe is underqualified. If she lost this case, her chances of securing a permanent associate position were dead in the water.” Even though I had fully accepted exactly how important Chloe was to him. Hearing him prioritize her career over my father’s life still forced hot, angry tears into my eyes. “So that gives you the right to fabricate evidence and frame my dad?!” “My job is to win lawsuits.” Arthur stood up, glaring down at me with absolute aristocratic disdain. “Bill Dawkins is a premium client. He pays this firm hundreds of thousands of dollars a year in retainer fees. And your dad? What the hell can your dad do for me?” He maliciously kicked the trash can next to his desk, knocking it over. Inside was the plastic bag of small bananas my father had brought. I hadn’t even had a chance to eat them yet. “Give me garbage like this?” Garbage? He actually called the fruit my father spent months cultivating by hand garbage? It’s terrifying how quickly a human heart can mutate. When we first moved to the city in our early twenties, we had absolutely nothing. It was my parents, working grueling manual labor jobs back home in the country, chopping down banana trees and hauling bricks. It was the crumpled, sweat-stained cash they mailed us every month that allowed us to rent our very first apartment in the city. But the man standing in front of me now… he wasn’t the man I fell in love with. He felt like a complete, terrifying stranger. “Don’t look at me like that.” He irritably yanked his tie loose. “Whatever, I’ll call the bank and arrange a loan to cover your dad’s settlement. $80,000 isn’t that much, I can set up a payment plan for him…” SMACK!

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The night before my daughter and I were supposed to leave on a road trip, my sister-in-law suddenly showed up with my nephew. “Maya, Dylan heard you and Chloe are going on a road trip, and he really wants to go. Just take Dylan with you. It’ll be great, Chloe will have a playmate!” “I’m really sorry, Sarah, but I just don’t have the energy to manage two kids by myself on a road trip.” I honestly thought that after I explicitly said no, the issue was settled. Who could have possibly predicted that when I stopped at a rest stop the next day, my nephew, Dylan, would crawl out of my trunk? I had no choice. I was forced to take him with me. On the trip, my nephew demanded the most expensive hotels and the priciest meals. His parents—my brother-in-law and sister-in-law—didn’t contribute a single dime, and instead rallied the entire family to text me, insisting I “not be cheap” when it came to spending money on Dylan. Just because I refused to buy him a ridiculously overpriced theme-park ice cream—knowing he had a sensitive stomach and would get sick—he snapped. He literally pushed me and my daughter into a raging river, and stood on the bank watching as we drowned. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my living room, the day before the trip. I immediately canceled the road trip, booked two Amtrak train tickets for me and my daughter to our destination, and casually loaned my car to my incredibly irresponsible, flaky brother-in-law. 1 “Maya, just take Dylan with you tomorrow. You’re already watching one kid, what’s one more? It’s the exact same amount of work.” My husband, Mark’s voice snapped me back to reality. I realized I had been reborn. In my past life, I exhausted myself trying to reasonably explain to Mark why it was a bad idea. In this life? I couldn’t even be bothered to waste my breath. I just looked at him and said two words. “I’m not.” Mark immediately caught an attitude. “You know, sometimes you are just incredibly cold and unreasonable!” I ignored him, pulled out my phone, and booked two train tickets for the next morning. Early the next day, I grabbed our bags, ordered an Uber, and took my daughter straight to the train station. Chloe looked up at me, confused but innocent. “Mommy, didn’t you say we were going to drive the car for our vacation?” I gently stroked her soft hair. “You’ve never been on a train before, right? Mommy thought it would be fun to give you a new experience.” “Yay! A train!” Looking at Chloe’s bright, excited little face, I swore to myself that in this life, I would protect her at all costs. In my previous life, after we were pushed into the river by Dylan, I actually managed to fight the current long enough to push Chloe up onto the rocky bank. But Dylan… I have no idea where he found it, but he picked up a massive, heavy rock, and slammed it directly into my daughter’s head. Her head split open, blood pouring down her face, and she fell backward, plunging back into the raging rapids. Since my sister-in-law loved the idea of her son hiding in trunks to hitch free rides so much, let’s see how much he enjoys hiding in this one! Once Chloe and I were safely seated on the train, I sent a text to my brother-in-law, Jason. “Hey, I decided not to use my car for the trip. If you still need it, the keys are on the counter. Take it.” Jason replied instantly: “Thanks, Maya! You’re a lifesaver, I’m heading over to grab it right now!” Right before the trip, Jason had aggressively asked to borrow my car. Because I was planning the road trip, I obviously said no, which caused him to throw a massive, petty tantrum. Well, the car is yours now, Jason. Have fun taking Dylan on a joyride. Two hours later, Chloe and I arrived at our destination. We had barely stepped out of the train station when my sister-in-law, Sarah, called. “Maya, the weather is getting a little chilly up there today, make sure you put a jacket on Dylan. Oh, and he didn’t eat breakfast before he left. When you hit the rest stop, buy him some milk and a sandwich or something.” I played completely dumb. “Sarah, are you feeling okay? I took Chloe on vacation. Dylan isn’t with me.” I heard Sarah let out a smug, self-satisfied laugh on the other end of the line. “Dylan really, really wanted to go with you guys. I knew you were going to be difficult and say no, so I just told him to hide in the trunk of your car. Seriously, that kid, he’s just playing hide-and-seek and won’t come out.” “Just pop the trunk and check right now. He’s in there.” The corners of my mouth curled into a slow smile. “But Sarah, I didn’t drive my car today. Chloe and I took the Amtrak.” 2 Sarah chuckled again, clearly not believing me. “Maya, stop joking around. I literally stood in my driveway and watched you drive your car down the street this morning.” “Is Dylan sitting right next to you? Put him on speaker, let me talk to him.” “I’m not joking, Sarah. Chloe and I really took the train. If you saw my car driving away, it was probably Jason. I loaned the car to him last night.” “If you don’t believe me, just call him and ask.” “Oh, wait! Now that I think about it… didn’t Jason say he was taking his new girlfriend on a long, scenic drive down the coast today? I really hope he realizes Dylan is in the trunk. It gets incredibly hot back there… I’d hate for the poor kid to suffocate.” I almost burst out laughing as I delivered that line. On the other end of the phone, it finally clicked for Sarah. The smugness vanished instantly. “You’re telling me Jason took the car this morning?!” “Yeah.” “Maya, I swear to God, if anything happens to my son, I will fucking kill you!” Before I could even reply, Sarah panicked and hung up the phone. I knew she would be calling back immediately. Sure enough, less than five minutes later, my screen lit up with her name again. “Maya! Jason’s phone is going straight to voicemail! I am ordering you to track him down right now! My son is in that car!” “Sarah, if you can’t reach him, how am I supposed to? We’re calling the exact same number. Just keep trying, maybe he’ll pick up when he gets cell service again.” Sarah was absolutely hysterical. “If anything happens to my son, you are taking full legal responsibility for this!” “I’m sorry, did I tell your son to crawl into my trunk like a rat? However you want to spin this, you absolutely cannot pin this on me.” “How is it not your fault?! If you had just been a decent person and agreed to take Dylan in the first place, I wouldn’t have had to tell him to hide in the trunk! It’s your car! If you don’t take responsibility, who will?!” “I’m sorry, but that sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” This time, I was the one who hung up. I immediately blocked Sarah’s number. A few seconds later, my husband, Mark, called. He came out swinging, his voice aggressive and accusatory. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Because of you, Dylan is missing, and you actually have the nerve to ignore Sarah’s calls?!” I let out a harsh, cynical laugh. “Did I force Dylan to climb into my trunk? And the person who drove the car away, who currently has his phone turned off, is your brother!” “Mark, I have been way too nice to you for way too long. You clearly think I’m a pushover, and you think you can just dump every single problem your toxic family creates directly onto my lap!” “Dylan is just unreachable right now. Even if he’s actually dead in that trunk, it has absolutely nothing to do with me!” “Stop talking and bring Chloe home right now!” “We just got here. Why would we go back?” Mark was roaring through the phone. “Dylan is missing and you’re actually in the mood to go sightseeing?! Get your ass back here immediately!” “If I come back, does that magically locate him? If you can’t find him, call 911. Screaming at me doesn’t solve anything!” I hung up, went into my settings, and blocked every single phone number associated with Mark’s family. Knowing Mark would probably try to use a stranger’s phone to harass me, I just powered my phone completely off. “Come on, Chloe, let’s go have some fun.” I held my daughter’s hand, walking toward the pier to rent a paddleboat. Suddenly, the Apple Watch on Chloe’s wrist erupted with Mark’s furious, booming voice. “Chloe! Tell your mother to get her ass home right now!” 3 Chloe’s smartwatch was set to auto-answer calls from approved contacts. The sudden, violent screaming echoing from her wrist absolutely terrified her. She burst into tears. I quickly unbuckled the watch from her wrist. “Mark, are you a literal psychopath?! Why are you screaming at a child?!” “You forced my hand! Maya, I am telling you, you need to be home by tonight! If I don’t see your face in this house tonight, we are getting a divorce!” “Great! Let’s get a divorce!” Mark’s voice was shaking with pure, unadulterated rage. “Maya, you have completely lost your fucking mind!” I powered off Chloe’s smartwatch. Finally, absolute peace and quiet. I took Chloe around the city, and we had an incredible day. That night, after we got back to the hotel, I finally turned my phone back on. The notifications flooded in like an avalanche. Sarah had sent me over eighty messages on iMessage, all of them massive audio recordings. I couldn’t even be bothered to listen to a single one. I just muted the conversation. Let her scream into the void. My best friend had also sent me several frantic texts. “Maya, where the hell are you?! You’re not answering your phone and you’re not replying to texts! Your sister-in-law is literally doing a TikTok live stream dragging your name through the mud! I screen-recorded it, you need to watch this right now!” I clicked on the video file my friend sent. There was Sarah, her eyes bloodshot, sobbing directly into her front-facing camera. “Guys, I genuinely don’t know what to do anymore, that’s why I’m turning to the internet for help.” “My son… he was tricked by his aunt, Maya, into hiding in the trunk of her car. And then, Maya intentionally loaned that car to my younger brother, Jason, and told him to drive away.” “Jason had absolutely no idea my son was in the trunk. We can’t reach Jason, and my son’s life is in extreme danger.” “Maya is refusing to help us find him, and she blocked the entire family’s phone numbers. She took her own daughter on a luxury vacation, and none of us can reach her.” “I’m begging the internet to help me find her. This is her photo. If anyone sees her, please tell her that our family is dying of anxiety. Please, I’m begging her to spare my son, just give my son back to me!” “Maya, if you have a problem with me, take it out on me! You can kill me, you can torture me, I don’t care! Just please don’t hurt my baby!” Sarah held up a printed photo of my face, sobbing hysterically, snot and tears running down her face. The internet comment section was an absolute bloodbath directed at me. “What kind of demonic, evil bitch does this?! That is her own nephew!” “Even if she hates her sister-in-law, you don’t use a child as a weapon!” “She tricked someone else’s kid into a trunk where he could literally die, and then took her own kid on vacation?! How is this woman not in prison?!” “Why wasn’t her own daughter locked in the trunk? A monster like this probably raised a little monster anyway!” “I hope the big psycho and the little psycho both die!” “If I see this bitch and her kid on the street, I swear to God I’m throwing them both in a trunk and locking them in there for a week!” … The comments were becoming increasingly violent and unhinged. I calmly screen-recorded the video and the comment section, saving everything. Then, I sent a single text message to Sarah. “Expect a letter from my lawyer.” 4 I locked my phone, tucked Chloe in, and we both drifted off to sleep. Suddenly, someone began violently pounding on our hotel room door. “Police! Open the door!” Chloe and I both jolted awake in terror. “Police? Is there a problem?” “We suspect you are involved in a homicide. Please open the door and cooperate with our investigation immediately, or we will breach the door!” I backed away from the door, assuming it was some lunatic who saw the TikTok video and was trying to impersonate a cop. “What homicide?! Get away from my door, or I’m calling 911!” Just as I grabbed my phone to dial, the heavy hotel door was violently kicked open. Officers swarmed into the room, instantly pinning my arms behind my back and forcing me face-down onto the bed. Chloe was screaming and crying in absolute terror. An officer shoved a printed photo of Dylan directly into my face. “Do you recognize this individual?” “That’s my nephew.” “The boy’s mother filed a police report stating that you lured her son into the trunk of a vehicle, resulting in his death by asphyxiation.” “Dylan is dead?!” “I didn’t do it! I had absolutely no idea he was in there!” “You need to come down to the precinct for questioning.” “Officer, I will absolutely cooperate, but please, do not terrify my daughter.” Chloe ran over, wrapping her arms around my legs, sobbing hysterically. “Don’t take my mommy away!” My heart broke looking at her tear-streaked, terrified little face. “It’s okay, Chloe. The police officers are just playing a game with Mommy. It’s okay.” Chloe and I were both escorted to the local police precinct. To my absolute shock, Mark’s entire family was already there. The second Sarah saw me, her eyes practically popped out of her skull. She lunged at me like a rabid animal, her hands curled into claws. “Maya! I’m going to fucking kill you! You murdered my son!” An officer quickly intercepted her, physically restraining her. “Ma’am, you need to calm down.” “Dylan is actually dead?” I didn’t feel a single ounce of grief. Honestly, I felt a deep, overwhelming sense of karmic justice. “My son died because of you! If you hadn’t tricked him into the trunk, he wouldn’t have suffocated to death in that oven!” An officer turned to me. “Maya, how do you respond to the allegations made by the deceased’s family? They claim you lured Dylan into the trunk and knowingly abandoned him, resulting in fatal heatstroke and asphyxiation.” “I completely deny it! I didn’t do it, Sarah did!” Before I could even finish my sentence, Mark aggressively cut me off. “Maya, I literally watched you coax Dylan into the trunk with my own two eyes. Stop lying.” “I know you didn’t intentionally mean to kill him. We are all family here. If you agree to pay my brother and Sarah financial compensation, they are willing to sign a non-prosecution agreement and drop the charges.” I stared at Mark in absolute disgust and betrayal. “Do you know that committing perjury is a felony?” “What perjury?! I saw it happen! I am your husband, do you think I would just make up a lie to frame my own wife?!” “If you refuse to pay them, my brother and Sarah are going to press charges, and I won’t be able to stop them!” “If you go to prison, what happens to Chloe?! She’s so young, she can’t survive without her mother!” “I spent hours begging them, and they finally agreed that if you pay them two million dollars, they won’t pursue criminal charges.” “Just pay the money, and we can all leave the police out of this.” “Two million dollars? Where the hell am I supposed to get two million dollars?” “Sell the house your parents gave you! You own it free and clear. Don’t worry about finding a buyer, I already have a real estate agent lined up.” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Dylan is literally lying dead in a morgue. Your entire family isn’t taking a single second to reflect on your own actions or grieve. You’re using his corpse to try and extort my pre-marital real estate. You people are absolute monsters.” Sarah exploded in rage. “Maya, if you don’t pay us, I will make sure you get the death penalty! You’re going to face a firing squad!” Mark leaned in close to me. “Maya, you can solve this with money. Are you really willing to risk the death penalty?!” “I didn’t kill him. Even if someone gets the death penalty, it won’t be me.” I looked directly at Sarah. For a split second, a flash of genuine guilt and panic crossed her face. “Officers, arrest her! Give her the death penalty right now! My son died in her car, and my brother-in-law literally witnessed her lure my son into the trunk! She is a murderer!” Chloe was crying so hard she was hyperventilating. “Don’t arrest my mommy!” Sarah stepped forward and violently slapped my six-year-old daughter across the face. “You little bitch! Why does my son have to die while you get to live?! You should be dead too!” An officer stepped forward, pulling out a pair of handcuffs, preparing to detain me. Mark was still standing next to me, whispering his toxic advice. “Just sell the house and pay them. Do you actually want to go to prison? Do you want to die?!” “Maya, prison is a living hell. You wouldn’t survive a week in there. Just tell me where the deed to the house is, and I will handle the sale for you right now.” I completely ignored them. I calmly pulled my phone out of my pocket. “Officers. I have definitive proof of my innocence.”

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1 While recovering from my abortion, I was scrolling through Reddit when I stumbled upon a trending thread: [What is the most satisfying thing you have ever done in your entire life?] The top-voted response read: [Last week, I switched the prenatal lab results of my childhood best friend’s wife.] [She was carrying a perfectly healthy baby boy, but I intentionally falsified the report to tell her the baby had Down syndrome. She actually believed it.] [I performed the abortion on her myself. While I was in there, I ‘accidentally’ removed her uterus too. She’s never getting pregnant again.] [She stole the man who had revolved around me since we were kids. I choked down that resentment for three years, and now I’ve finally paid it back. It feels amazing!] I instinctively pressed my hand against my flat, empty stomach. A user replied below: Does her husband know? [Of course he knows.] [We work at the same hospital. He was standing right next to me when I swapped the file.] [He was the one who ultimately convinced her to abort the baby, all because I told him I couldn’t stand the thought of him having a child with her.] My hands were shaking violently as I clicked on the user’s profile. It was Chloe Sinclair’s burner account. The feed was filled with mundane, romantic little anecdotes about her and Arthur. The sheer, suffocating rage caused me to hemorrhage on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was transported back to the exact day of my abortion. Chloe was prepping the surgical tray next to me, her tone gentle: “Don’t worry, Mia. You’re making the right choice. Bringing a baby with Down syndrome into the world would only cause you both endless suffering.” I propped myself up on my elbows and stared at her: “I changed my mind. I’m keeping my baby.” … The entire pre-op room fell dead silent. The surgical forceps in Chloe’s hand dropped back onto the metal tray with a sharp clatter. Even with the surgical mask covering half her face, I could tell her comforting smile had frozen completely. Her eyes darted frantically toward Arthur, then snapped back to me. “Mia, you need to calm down.” She took a half-step forward, her voice dropping into a soothing, patronizing tone—like she was trying to pacify a delusional child. “Raising a child with Down syndrome is a lifelong, agonizing burden. You’re still early in the first trimester, the surgical risks are lowest right now. We can’t delay this.” I stared intently at her hands. In my previous life, those were the exact hands that reached inside my body, severed the umbilical cord, and permanently stole my ability to ever be a mother again. My stomach churned violently. I gripped the edge of the operating table so hard my fingernails felt like they were going to split. Arthur took a step forward, his brow furrowed deeply. It wasn’t fake; he looked genuinely anxious. “Mia, stop being unreasonable.” He was suppressing his irritation, his tone bordering on a reprimand for a difficult patient. “If we bring a child with Down syndrome into this world, the baby will suffer its entire life, and we will be permanently dragged down with it.” “We already agreed on this, remember?” Agreed. I almost laughed out loud. Yes, they agreed. He and Chloe had agreed on everything. I stared at him, forcing every single word out through gritted teeth: “It is my baby, and I am keeping him.” “I do not care if he is perfectly healthy or not. I am having my baby!” I said it with absolute, unwavering conviction. Arthur’s face darkened into a scowl. “This is not the time to be sentimental. The medical data is right in front of you. Science doesn’t lie.” “If you have this baby, are you just going to sit at home crying every day for the rest of your life?” Chloe immediately jumped in, her voice even softer, dripping with fake empathy. “Mia, Arthur is just looking out for you.” “Please don’t be mad at him for being blunt. We’re doctors, we’ve seen countless cases exactly like this. The longer you drag this out, the harder it will be.” “You are still so young, you can always…” Always what? I snapped my head up and glared at her. What did she write on her burner account? [I performed the abortion on her myself. While I was in there, I ‘accidentally’ removed her uterus too. She’s never getting pregnant again.] “I can always what?” My voice sounded like it was being scraped against sandpaper. Chloe shrank back half a step under my intense glare, her smile faltering nervously. “You can always… you can always have another, perfectly healthy baby in the future.” The anesthesiologist walked over, holding a syringe, looking visibly annoyed. “It’s time for the anesthesia. Are we proceeding with the procedure or not?” Two nurses standing nearby murmured to each other in hushed voices. “She’s literally on the table and she’s backing out.” “I’ve seen so many of these delusional mothers. They always regret it once the kid is born.” “Exactly. A Down syndrome baby… it ruins the entire family.” Every single word felt like a needle being shoved into my eardrums. Surrounded by a sea of white lab coats, I felt like an animal trapped in a hunting circle. Everyone in the room was looking at me like I was insane. But I knew the truth. I was the only person in that room who was completely, lucidly sane. I was carrying a perfectly healthy baby boy. And they were actively manipulating me onto a surgical table, treating my child like medical waste to be incinerated. The needle moved closer. Chloe shot a subtle glance at the nurses, and they immediately stepped forward, pressing down firmly on my shoulders. “Just relax, Mia. Take a nice, deep breath, and you’ll be asleep before you know it.” Her voice was still so impossibly gentle. Arthur turned his back, checking the clock on the wall. “Chloe’s right. Let’s get this over with. The OR schedule is backed up today.” The blood rushed violently to my head. I violently wrenched my arm free and aggressively ripped the IV line right out of the back of my hand. Drops of dark blood instantly splattered across the pristine white hospital sheets. “DO NOT TOUCH ME!” I violently threw myself off the side of the operating table. My knees smashed hard against the metal step stool, the pain blinding me with a flash of white. “I am completely lucid, and I do not consent to this surgery!” “If anyone in this room pushes that anesthetic, I will have you arrested for medical battery and forced sterilization!” I forced myself up and glared murderously at Arthur. “Get the Chief of Medicine down here right now!” 2 Every single person in the room froze perfectly still. Arthur slowly turned around, his eyes as cold and sharp as a scalpel. “Mia, if you stubbornly insist on giving birth to a baby with Down syndrome, have you considered the catastrophic consequences for this family?” He enunciated every single syllable clearly, sounding like he was reading a terminal diagnosis from a clipboard. “Have you even bothered to consider what his quality of life will be?” My chest felt like it was being crushed by a vice. It was so painfully ironic. In my previous life, right up until the moment I died, I couldn’t figure it out. Did he actually believe the falsified lab report, or did he force me onto the operating table simply because Chloe told him she didn’t want him to have a child? But seeing him standing there right now… cold, detached, completely rational. It was so sickeningly rational it made me want to vomit. Chloe immediately rushed over, crouching down in front of me, her tone urgent and saccharine. “Mia, Arthur is only doing this because he loves you.” “Think about it. How many cruel, judgmental stares is this child going to face if you bring him into the world?” “You can’t let your selfish desire to be a mother ruin an innocent child’s entire life.” She grew increasingly animated, her eyes turning red with fake, theatrical tears. “I work in Obstetrics. I’ve seen too many of these tragedies. I swear to you, those families always end up broken.” The nurses nodded in solemn agreement. I braced myself against the edge of the operating table, forcing the words out one by one: “I said, I am having my baby.” “Even if the entire world tries to stop me, I am giving birth to this child.” Arthur closed his eyes, adopting the exasperated posture of a man dealing with an irrational hysteric. “You are far too emotionally volatile right now to make any major medical decisions.” He turned to the nurses: “Transfer her to an observation suite. We’ll hold her there.” “We won’t discuss this again until she has calmed down.” I shot up from the floor. “You’re going to hold me hostage?!” Arthur looked down at me, a flicker of genuine exhaustion in his eyes. “This is for your protection. To protect you, and to protect the baby.” Protect. I almost ground my teeth to dust. It sounded so incredibly noble. That was exactly what happened in my previous life. I was locked inside an observation suite in this hospital. No one answered my calls, no one came to help me. By the time I was wheeled into the operating room, I didn’t even have the physical strength left to fight back. Two nurses flanked me, grabbing me by the arms. “Mrs. Hayes, please don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Chloe kept up her performance, hovering nearby: “Mia, please, just go rest for a bit. You don’t want to stress your body out even more.” “Once you’ve had time to think clearly, we can sit down and talk.” The heavy door clicked shut behind me. The deadbolt slid into place from the outside. I sat on the hospital bed, my entire body shaking uncontrollably. Less than half an hour later, frantic, clicking footsteps echoed down the hallway. The door was violently shoved open. Arthur’s mother stormed into the room in her designer heels, slamming her Birkin bag onto the table. “Mia! Have you completely lost your mind?!” Arthur’s father stood right behind her, his face dark as thunder. “Has the Hayes family ever mistreated you? Why are you insisting on giving birth to a retarded child and turning us into a public laughingstock?!” My mother-in-law slapped the table, pointing her finger aggressively in my face. “If you don’t abort this thing right now, don’t ever expect to step foot inside our house again!” “Arthur is still young and building his career! Why should he be permanently anchored down by you and an invalid?!” I looked up at her, and slowly, genuinely smiled. “I am the child’s mother.” “I am the only one who gets to decide if he lives or dies.” My mother-in-law’s face twisted with pure rage. “You! You are completely unreasonable!” “Chloe is an incredible doctor! She was trying to advise you out of the goodness of her heart, and you treated her like garbage!” “You are intentionally trying to destroy the Hayes family!” I noticed Chloe was standing quietly in the doorway, her eyes rimmed with red. “Mrs. Hayes, please don’t get so upset, it’s bad for your blood pressure.” “Mia is probably just struggling to accept the reality of the diagnosis. We just need to keep trying to reason with her.” A few nurses were lingering outside the door, whispering and gossiping. “Is that the one refusing to abort the Down syndrome baby?” “I honestly don’t get what is going through her head.” “She married into the Hayes family and she’s still throwing tantrums like this. So ungrateful.” “I feel so bad for Dr. Sinclair, having to deal with a sister-in-law like that.” I sat perfectly still on the bed, absorbing every single word they said. Every single person in this hospital was on Chloe’s side. They were all conspiring to decide whether my child deserved to live. I closed my eyes, my brain working in overdrive. I couldn’t expose the falsified lab report right now. Chloe’s father was a major financial donor to this hospital; this was literally her territory. If I tried to expose them now without concrete proof, I would only alert them and give them time to cover their tracks. I had to wait. I had to wait for the perfect, undeniable opportunity to nail her to the wall.

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My husband is a commercial airline captain who flies international routes. He spends more than half the year off the ground. I never track his whereabouts or interrogate his schedule. Instead, I just maintain a good relationship with Mark, the logistics coordinator for his flight crew. During the holidays, Mark frequently brings his wife and daughter over to our house for dinner. For my birthday this year, my husband brought back a small bottle of perfume from Paris, claiming he picked it out specifically for me. I was ecstatic for days. Later, when Mark brought his daughter over for dinner, he saw the perfume bottle on the console table and casually laughed: “Maya, he already gave you the ring, why are you still saving the perfume?” I froze for a second: “What ring?” Mark’s smile instantly died on his face. “The… the custom iris diamond ring Ethan ordered in Paris. During his three-day layover, I was the one who helped him contact the boutique and track the insured shipping.” I didn’t press the issue. I simply picked up my phone and searched the brand of the perfume. That’s when I noticed the fine print. The perfume was indeed authentic, but it was not available for retail sale. It was an exclusive, complimentary gift included only with the purchase of their high-end Iris diamond ring collection. My husband did bring me a birthday gift. Except what I received was the free sample from the diamond ring he bought for another woman. … I set the perfume bottle back down on the table, acting as if I hadn’t heard a thing, and served a piece of brisket to Mark’s daughter. “Try this, sweetheart. I slow-cooked it all afternoon.” Mark’s face was ashen. He opened his mouth several times, trying to speak. I didn’t give him the chance. After dinner, I politely escorted them to the door. Before leaving, he stood in the entryway, looking incredibly anxious: “Maya, there might be a massive misunderstanding here.” “I know. I’ll ask him.” The second the door clicked shut, the smile completely vanished from my face. I didn’t call Ethan. Instead, I took a picture of the serial number on the bottom of the bottle and contacted the brand’s customer service. “Hi, this perfume leaked a little during travel. Could you verify the batch number for me?” The representative checked the code and informed me that this specific fragrance was not sold in stores; it was exclusively gifted with the purchase of their Iris High Jewelry collection. I intentionally asked: “My husband ordered that ring, but I can’t find the invoice. Could you look up the order for me?” The representative hesitated for a moment before asking for the purchaser’s name and phone number. Ten minutes later, she confirmed the order. The inside of the diamond ring was engraved with the letters “CS”. The designated recipient on the shipping manifest was Chloe Sullivan. I knew exactly who that was. She was the lead flight attendant on Ethan’s crew. Ethan occasionally mentioned her at home, saying she was highly competent, straightforward, and the easiest partner to work with. Apparently, she was so easy to work with that he bought her diamonds. At 10:00 PM, Ethan dragged his rolling suitcase through the front door. He had barely taken off his pilot’s jacket when his eyes landed on the unboxed perfume. “You opened it?” he asked casually. “Yeah, I really love it.” I walked over to adjust his collar, clearly feeling the rigid tension in his shoulders instantly relax. “I’m glad you like it.” He kissed my forehead. “I spent a long time picking it out.” I almost laughed out loud. While he was in the shower, his phone lit up on the nightstand. His lock screen passcode was still our wedding anniversary. Chloe’s message popped up at the very top of his notifications. “The ring is a perfect fit. The girls on the crew keep saying it looks like an engagement ring.” The next text immediately followed: “Next time we fly to Paris, we have to go look at wedding dresses together. You promised, you can’t back out.” I stared at those two sentences, my fingers turning to ice. Before the bathroom door opened, I snapped a photo of the messages and set his phone back exactly where it was. Ethan walked out, towel-drying his hair: “Why are you still awake?” “I want to go visit your corporate headquarters tomorrow.” He stopped moving: “Why would you want to go there?” “We’ve been married for six years, and I’ve never seen where you work.” He forced a stiff smile: “Airport security is incredibly strict, you can’t just wander around. Wait until my promotion review is over, then I’ll give you a tour.” The next afternoon, I went anyway. Through the glass wall of the crew lounge, I immediately spotted Ethan. He was standing closely in front of Chloe, looking down, gently adjusting the silk uniform scarf around her neck, his knuckles brushing lightly against her chin. Chloe tilted her face up, smiling brightly: “Is it crooked?” “When have you ever tied this thing straight?” His tone was so incredibly intimate and familiar, as if they had shared this exact interaction a thousand times. I pushed the door open and walked in. Both of them instantly froze. Chloe took a half-step backward, casually smoothing her scarf as if nothing had happened. “Maya?” Ethan quickly dropped his hand. “What are you doing here?” I looked at him: “You said you’d give me a tour after your promotion review. I decided I couldn’t wait.” Chloe laughed lightly: “Don’t misunderstand, Maya. Captain Vance was just fixing my uniform. We always double-check each other’s appearance before a flight.” “I didn’t realize uniform checks required the Captain to do it personally.” Chloe let out a soft chuckle: “Ethan is just really protective of his crew.” A nearby flight attendant quickly tried to smooth things over: “They’re officially known as the best duo in the sky! They’ve been flying together for years. Maya, you aren’t going to get jealous over that, right?” Another younger flight attendant, completely oblivious to the tension, chimed in: “Captain Vance really does go above and beyond for Chloe. Last month, he intentionally requested a three-day layover just to spend her birthday with her! It caused a massive scheduling headache for the rest of us.” Ethan’s face darkened instantly. “Stop gossiping. It was just a scheduling coincidence.” “Is that right?” I looked directly at him: “You took a three-day layover last month?” “I wasn’t feeling well.” I pulled out my phone and opened the screenshot of his official leave request. “But your submitted reason for the time off was to ‘accompany wife for medical procedure’.” The entire lounge went dead silent. During those specific three days, I did, in fact, have a medical procedure. Two months ago, I was waiting for him to come home, holding a positive pregnancy test, genuinely believing he would be thrilled. Instead, his brow furrowed, and he told me that his Chief Pilot promotion review was coming up, and a baby was terrible timing. “Maya, let’s wait until I secure the Chief Captain spot. Then we can start a family.” On the day of the procedure, he called and said there was a last-minute flight schedule change, so he couldn’t be there with me. I signed the consent forms alone. I lay on the operating table alone. When I woke up, the only person beside me was a nurse. And he had used my physical trauma, writing my medical procedure into his leave request, to buy himself three days off so he could take another woman to Paris. I raised my eyes to look at him: “Ethan, exactly who is the ‘wife’ listed on your leave request?” “We will talk about this at home.” He grabbed my wrist. His eyes didn’t hold a shred of guilt—only furious irritation. “We are at the office. Do you really have to humiliate me here?” “You used my abortion to get time off so you could take another woman to Paris. Did you care if I felt humiliated?” The smile finally vanished from Chloe’s face. “Maya, Ethan and I are strictly colleagues. During the Paris trip, I was feeling sick, and he just happened to look after me.” “And he ‘just happened’ to order you a diamond ring?” I looked directly at her hand. She reacted as if she had been burned, instantly hiding her right hand behind her back. Ethan immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her. “Enough!” That single, protective motion spoke louder than any excuse he could have invented. I ripped my wrist out of his grip, turned around, and walked out. Behind me, I heard his suppressed, furious voice: “Go home. Stop trying to sabotage my promotion.” Half an hour later, my mother-in-law called. She didn’t ask why I was upset or what had happened. She immediately launched into a vicious scolding. “What exactly are you trying to accomplish, storming into the airline headquarters? Ethan is about to go before the board for Chief Captain! Do you have any idea how critical this promotion is?!” I gripped my phone, my voice so eerily calm that it surprised even me. “He used my abortion paperwork to get time off so he could buy diamonds for another woman. Did you know about that?” The line went silent for two seconds. When my mother-in-law spoke again, there wasn’t a single trace of surprise in her tone. “Men who fly international routes are under immense pressure. Having someone on the crew who understands him and takes care of him is perfectly normal. As long as he still comes home to you, you need to be mature and accept it.” My heart sank into an absolute, freezing abyss. She knew. She had known all along. “So you knew about the ring too?” “It’s just a shiny trinket to keep her happy. You are the legal Mrs. Vance. Why lower yourself to fight with a side piece?” I stared at the screenshot of his leave request on my phone, and suddenly, I laughed. “You’re absolutely right. I won’t fight for him.” Her tone immediately softened into condescending approval: “That’s exactly right. Now go apologize to Ethan immediately, and stop jeopardizing his career.” “Oh, I’m going to give his career exactly what it deserves.” I hung up the phone, saved the call recording, and backed it up. A text message from Ethan popped up on my screen. “We will talk when I get back from my flight tomorrow. Stop harassing Chloe. She is innocent in this.” I replied: “Okay.” And then I dialed my divorce attorney’s number. After listening to the recording, my lawyer gave me three strict directives. “Preserve all original evidence, initiate a comprehensive audit of all marital assets immediately, and do absolutely nothing to tip him off about the divorce until we are ready to file.” I methodically backed up the jewelry invoice, the chat logs, and his mother’s voicemail to three separate secure servers. Then, I went to the bank and requested three years of certified transaction history for all our joint accounts. On the day Ethan returned from his flight, I laid the entire stack of evidence out on the dining room table. He took one glance at the papers, his brow furrowing aggressively. “You’ve been auditing me?” “Did you buy the ring?” “No.” “Your name and cell phone number are on the invoice.” He paused, instantly changing his story: “The crew pooled their money to buy it for her birthday. I was just the one who put it on my card.” I pulled up the bank statements. “There are absolutely zero incoming transfers to your account from any crew members.” A brief flash of panic crossed his eyes, but he quickly recovered his arrogant composure. “Chloe has covered for me at work dozens of times. It was her birthday. What’s the big deal if I buy her an expensive gift?” “Then why are both of your initials engraved on the inside of the band?” “The jeweler made a mistake.” “What about looking at wedding dresses?” “She was joking.” “So you taking her to Paris was just a joke too?” With every question I asked, his face grew darker and more furious. Finally, he violently slammed his phone down onto the table. “Maya, are you ever going to drop this?” I looked at him, and the absolute last, microscopic ember of hope I had for this marriage permanently extinguished. “When I was on the operating table getting the abortion, where were you?” “I already told you! Chloe was severely ill that day. I am the Captain, I have a duty of care to my crew members.” He aggressively ripped his tie off, tossing it onto a chair. “The situation is over and done with. Why are you obsessing over it? Do you enjoy making yourself miserable?” “I fly 14-hour red-eyes, the pressure for this promotion is crushing me, and I have to come home to an interrogation. Can you please act like an adult?” I calmly gathered the evidence files and slid them into a manila folder. “Ethan, we’re getting a divorce.” Ethan froze for a second, then let out a sharp, mocking laugh. It wasn’t panic. It wasn’t heartbreak. It was the exact same, dismissive laugh a parent gives a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Over a ring?” “Because you cheated on me, and then used our dead child as an excuse to take your mistress on a birthday trip.” “Stop using such melodramatic language.” He leaned back in his chair, looking at me with absolute, arrogant certainty. “Maya, you married me the second you graduated college. You haven’t worked a day in six years. I pay the mortgage, I pay the electric bill, I pay for your car. If you leave me, where exactly are you going to go?” I clenched my fists under the table, but I didn’t say a word. Assuming my silence was an admission of defeat, his tone grew even more condescending. “Stop threatening me with divorce every time you get upset. Acting this petty and vindictive is incredibly unattractive.” With that, he turned around and walked into the bedroom. That night, the airline hosted a massive gala to celebrate his crew winning the ‘Annual Aviation Safety Award.’ I had absolutely zero desire to go, but Ethan insisted that spouses were required to attend. “Stop looking so miserable, the corporate executives are going to be there.” I put on an evening gown and followed him into the ballroom. Chloe arrived fashionably late. She was wearing a stunning white silk dress. As she elegantly held her champagne flute, the massive Iris diamond on her ring finger caught the chandelier light, blindingly obvious to everyone in the room. Someone immediately yelled out: “Chloe, that ring is gorgeous! Who bought it? Wearing it on that finger… is there an announcement we should be expecting?” Chloe cast a demure, lingering glance at Ethan. “It was a gift from someone very important to me.” The group surrounding them immediately erupted into knowing cheers and whistles. Ethan didn’t deny it. He didn’t say a word. I walked over, my eyes locked on her hand. “It really is beautiful. I guess it was worth the fifty thousand dollars.” The smile instantly froze on Chloe’s face. Ethan immediately stepped directly in front of her, physically blocking me. “Maya, this is a corporate celebration. Don’t start drama.” “I complimented her jewelry. How is that starting drama?” “You know exactly what kind of tone you’re using right now.” He shielded her in front of his entire professional network, acting as if I was the malicious, intrusive outsider trying to ruin their night. Chloe spoke up, her voice sickeningly soft: “If Maya likes it so much, I can take it off and give it to her.” She said the words, but her hand aggressively clutched the ring against her chest. Ethan frowned deeply. “No. I gave that to you. It belongs to you.” The immediate vicinity plunged into a dead, awkward silence. A few people awkwardly looked at the floor, avoiding my eyes. Others exchanged highly amused, gossipy glances. Chloe’s eyes welled with fake, victimized tears. “What about our vacation to Paris? Is that still happening? Or should we cancel it so Maya doesn’t get upset?” Ethan glanced at me, clearly waiting for me to back down and accept my humiliation gracefully. I didn’t open my mouth. Seeing my refusal to yield, he reached out, grabbed Chloe’s wrist, and gently pulled her hand out from behind her back. “I promised you we’d go. Of course it’s still happening.” I turned around and walked out of the ballroom. Ethan didn’t chase after me. Ten minutes later, he sent me a single text message. “Your emotional instability is completely out of control. Go home and cool off. We will discuss this after my promotion review is finalized.” He spoke as if I was a disobedient employee who needed to be disciplined. I didn’t reply. I simply printed out the final draft of the divorce agreement my lawyer had prepared, and meticulously compiled a physical binder containing the forged leave requests, my surgical records, and the Paris credit card statements. A few days later, the results of the Chief Captain promotion board were officially announced. I didn’t receive an invitation, but I went anyway. Ethan stood on the auditorium stage, radiating triumphant, arrogant energy. When the VP of Flight Operations announced his name as the new Chief Captain, the applause was deafening. Chloe was sitting in the front row, her eyes brimming with emotional tears, clapping louder than anyone else in the room.

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Right before our wedding ceremony was about to begin, my fiancée Sarah’s male assistant offered to touch up my parents’ hair and makeup. Instead, he turned around and stamped their faces with two bright red, industrial ink stamps used for USDA meat inspections. “Inspection Passed. Quality Prime Pork.” Liam held up the meat inspection stamp, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, this looks so much more festive!” “You guys look like holiday hams straight from the butcher shop.” Chapter 1 Right before our wedding ceremony was about to begin, my fiancée Sarah’s male assistant offered to touch up my parents’ hair and makeup. Instead, he turned around and stamped their faces with two bright red, industrial ink stamps used for USDA meat inspections. “Inspection Passed. Quality Prime Pork.” Liam held up the meat inspection stamp, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, this looks so much more festive!” “You guys look like holiday hams straight from the butcher shop.” The entire ballroom full of guests erupted into raucous laughter. My mom stood frozen in place, frantically and helplessly trying to wipe the red ink off her face. But the foundation smeared, making her entire face look even more like a messy disaster. She forced a tight smile at me. “Ethan, Mom’s fine. It’ll just take a second to wipe off.” My dad kept his head down, his calloused fingertips obsessively rubbing the bottom hem of his suit jacket. It was a brand new suit he had bought specifically for the wedding, but the cuffs were already stained with hair gel and foundation from Liam. He offered a careful, appeasing smile. “It’s a wedding. It’s supposed to be lively.” I was shaking with rage. Just as I stepped forward to intervene… Sarah stepped in front of Liam, blocking him. “Ethan, Liam is just trying to lighten the mood.” “Your parents already said they’re fine, don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.” My parents looked utterly humiliated, yet they were desperately shaking their heads at me, terrified of causing a scene. Terrified that they were going to ruin my wedding. In that exact moment, I suddenly laughed. My parents couldn’t bear to put me in a difficult position. But Sarah was perfectly fine letting them be publicly humiliated for a cheap laugh. If that’s the case. Then I’m not getting married. Liam stood behind Sarah, his laughter quickly fading. “Ethan, please don’t be mad.” “I really didn’t mean to disrespect your parents.” He lowered his voice, sounding incredibly sincere and apologetic. “I just saw them sitting in the bridal suite looking so stiff and uncomfortable. I didn’t want them to be too nervous and embarrass themselves during the family toasts.” “So I just wanted to make them laugh.” He looked down, playing the victim. “I had no idea you’d be this sensitive about it.” The laughter in the ballroom gradually died down. But the looks the guests were shooting my parents were still laced with undisguised contempt and amusement. My dad just stood there, staring at his shoes. That new suit wasn’t actually expensive. He had saved up for months just to buy it off the rack at a local department store back home. The sleeves were an inch too long, and the shoulders didn’t quite fit right. But before we left the hotel, he had stood in front of the mirror, adjusting it over and over again. He even asked me, his voice full of quiet anxiety: “Ethan, does Dad look okay? Am I going to embarrass you today?” I had smiled and straightened his tie. “How could you?” “You’re going to be the most handsome, respectable father in the whole room.” But now, he was standing in front of hundreds of elite guests. With a literal meat inspection stamp on his face. And his cuffs smeared with makeup and grease. He was the one being degraded, yet he was still terrified of causing trouble for me. “Ethan, it’s really fine.” “Don’t fight with Sarah.” My mom nodded frantically in agreement. She was pale, but still trying her hardest to maintain a polite smile. “Liam is just young and likes to joke around.” “He was just trying to help us get ready.” “Look, everyone had a good laugh, it makes the wedding more fun.” Looking at their forced, painful smiles, my chest felt like it was being crushed by a concrete block. But Liam seemed to take my mom’s words as absolute validation. He let out a soft sigh and murmured: “See, your mom said it’s fine.” “Ethan, if you really make a huge scene over something this small, your parents are going to be the ones who feel embarrassed.” Sarah frowned at me. “Did you hear that?” “Your parents are much more mature than you are.” I stared at her, completely stunned. Chapter 2 We had been together for five years. I thought Sarah, at the very least, understood exactly how much my parents meant to me. My dad is a man of incredibly few words. When he was younger, working construction, his hand was crushed by a steel beam. Even with two permanently mangled fingers, he just smiled and said it didn’t hurt. My mom, to help pay for my college tuition, worked the 4:00 AM shift unloading trucks at a wholesale produce market. In the winter, the deep cracks in her frozen hands would throb in agony every time it rained. They swallowed the absolute hardest, most bitter parts of life so I wouldn’t have to. The only time they ever said anything was the day I got my acceptance letter to a top-tier university. They spoke in hushed, emotional voices: “Ethan, from now on, you walk with your back straight.” “Mom and Dad don’t have much to offer, but we promise, we will never let anyone look down on you.” But today. They were standing awkwardly, drowning in the mocking laughter of a room full of high-society guests. Wearing red “Prime Pork Quality” stamps on their faces. They had been humiliated to the point where they couldn’t even lift their heads. And yet, they were still carefully, desperately making excuses for Sarah. But Sarah couldn’t see any of that. She only saw Liam standing there with his head bowed. So, in her eyes, everything that was going wrong was my fault for being “immature.” I took a deep breath and walked over to my parents. “Dad. Mom.” “I’m taking you to the bathroom to wash that off.” My mom immediately panicked. “The toasts are about to start, we can’t leave now.” She gripped my hand tightly, dropping her voice to a frantic whisper. “Ethan, everyone here is Sarah’s family or her important clients.” “Please, don’t make a scene and let people laugh at us.” My throat tightened painfully. They were already the punchline of the joke. But they were still obsessively worrying that I would be the one getting laughed at. Liam suddenly spoke up, his voice soft and helpful: “How about… I just touch up Mr. and Mrs. Miller’s makeup right now?” My dad instinctively nodded. “Yeah, yeah, okay.” Liam picked up a makeup sponge and walked over to my dad. But after two quick dabs, his hand “slipped,” and he aggressively jammed the sponge directly into the corner of my dad’s eye. My dad’s eye instantly swelled up and turned red, but he didn’t even try to dodge. He just muttered, “It’s fine, it’s fine.” I finally lost it. I grabbed Liam’s wrist in a vice grip. “Enough.” Liam winced, but kept his voice incredibly light. “Ethan, are you seriously going to get physical at your own wedding?” The very next second, Sarah stepped directly in front of him, her voice dropping into a cold, warning tone. “Ethan.” “Don’t push it.” “Liam is already trying to fix it. What more do you want?” I looked at her, physically shielding Liam, and suddenly felt like I was looking at a stranger. Five years ago, the first time Sarah visited my family’s tiny house. My dad was so nervous he could barely string a sentence together. While pouring wine at dinner, he accidentally spilled a few drops on the cuff of Sarah’s blouse. She instantly stood up, steadied my dad’s hand, and smiled warmly: “Mr. Miller, it’s totally my fault, I bumped the table.” “Please don’t be nervous, we’re going to be family soon.” That night, my mom whispered to me in the kitchen: “Sarah is such a well-raised, polite girl.” I thought so too. I thought she genuinely respected me, and respected my family. But it turns out, respect is something that can be completely depleted. Or rather. When she wants to protect someone else. My parents’ dignity isn’t even worth considering. The wedding coordinator rushed over, looking frantic. “Ms. Sinclair, Mr. Miller, the family toasts need to begin immediately.” “The elders are already seated.” Sarah finally looked at me, lowering her voice. “Ethan, stop throwing a tantrum.” “Get on the stage.” I didn’t move. I just turned to look at the head table near the stage. Sarah’s family, dressed in immaculate designer clothes, sat elegantly under the spotlight. Every single one of them looked flawless and dignified. And my parents were standing in the shadows of the corner, red stamps on their faces, radiating absolute, suffocating anxiety. Chapter 3 Liam was still standing nearby, keeping his head down. Sarah whispered to him reassuringly: “It’s fine, I’ll handle it.” I suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. If her way of “handling it” was forcing my parents to swallow this humiliation and just go through the motions… If it meant I just had to choke down my anger. Then this wedding ends right here. A second later, the officiant smiled brightly and spoke into the microphone: “And now, we invite the newlyweds to offer a toast to their parents.” The moment the applause broke out. My parents were already being half-shoved, half-escorted onto the stage by the venue staff. The red ink on their faces still wasn’t completely wiped off. The foundation was smeared, and sweat had caused the colors to run, making them look even more pathetic and messy. On the stage, Sarah’s parents sat dead center. The lighting was brilliant; their chairs were draped in elegant, celebratory silk. My parents were placed off to the side. They were given two flimsy, temporary folding chairs without even a cushion. When my dad sat down, his knees practically hit the edge of the small table in front of him. He awkwardly tried to tuck his legs away. Liam somehow managed to follow us onto the stage. He held a silver tray with the champagne flutes, smiling warmly. “Ethan, let me help you hand out the glasses.” I glared at him coldly. “I don’t need your help.” He didn’t get angry, just replied softly: “I just want to be helpful.” Sarah frowned. “Ethan.” “Don’t embarrass people on stage.” I stared at her. I suddenly remembered six months ago, when Sarah took me to get fitted for my tuxedo. Liam tagged along. With a single comment—”This cut is too old-fashioned, it doesn’t match Sarah’s status”—Sarah ordered the tailor to swap out the custom suit I had spent months picking out. I told her it was the exact style I had wanted for a long time. Sarah just laughed. “Liam has a great eye for high-end fashion. Trust him, he knows what he’s talking about.” The same thing happened with the floral arrangements. I wanted white lisianthus. Liam said red roses looked more festive and expensive. So Sarah had the florist change everything to red roses. She said: “Liam manages all the VIP corporate events, his aesthetic is flawless, he knows how this stuff works.” But I was the one getting married. It turned out that even back then… My wedding had already ceased to be my wedding. And now, even my parents’ basic human dignity wasn’t considered dignified enough to respect. Liam handed me a champagne flute. It was filled entirely to the brim. The liquid was scalding hot, the steam making my eyes sting. Just as I reached out to take it, he suddenly tilted his wrist. The scalding liquid splashed directly onto the back of my dad’s hand. My dad violently flinched, his shoulders jerking in pain, but he frantically grabbed the glass to keep it from shattering. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” “Don’t spill it, let the kids do the toast.” My chest tightened painfully. Liam raised an eyebrow, feigning an exaggerated apology. “Mr. Miller, I’m so sorry.” “I thought you had a solid grip on it.” “Are you just a little too nervous?” A few low chuckles echoed from the audience below. Someone whispered loudly: “The groom’s family has clearly never seen a room like this before.” “They really don’t belong here, do they?” My mom heard them. Her face turned paper-white, but she still reached over to wipe the liquid off my dad’s hand. “Did you get burned?” My dad shook his head. “I’m fine.” But the back of his hand was already blooming with a massive, angry red burn. Those hands… I had watched them work my entire life. Rough, calloused, covered in tiny, permanent scars. When I was in college, money was incredibly tight. He was terrified I would feel inferior to the rich kids on campus. He secretly wired me an extra fifty dollars a month out of his own pocket. While he ate the cheapest, most pathetic meals he could find on the construction site. Once, I came home for a surprise visit and caught him squatting on the curb, eating a plain, dry piece of bread. When he saw me, he panicked and hid the bread behind his back. He smiled and said: “Dad just finished a huge lunch.” Those were the hands that held up the sky for me my entire life. Chapter 4 And now, they were covered in blistering burns. Yet he was still insisting he was fine. I couldn’t take it for another second. I reached out to grab his arm. “Dad, I’m taking you to get some burn cream.” My mom frantically pulled two red envelopes from her purse. I knew there wasn’t much money inside them. But it was every single ounce of dignity and savings they could scrape together. For this wedding, my mom went to the bank a month in advance to request crisp, brand-new bills. She pressed them flat inside a heavy encyclopedia, saying they had to look perfect when she handed them over. She even kept the red envelopes under her pillow for a week, terrified the corners would get bent. When she showed them to me back then, she smiled, looking a little embarrassed. “Ethan, Mom and Dad can’t give you guys a lot.” “But it’s clean, honest money.” “Take it, it’s for good luck.” But as she held the envelopes out on stage, Liam suddenly leaned in to inspect them. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, aren’t these envelopes a little… thin?” Liam acted as if a sudden realization had hit him, his smile turning mocking and light. “Oh, but I guess that makes sense.” “I heard that Ethan had to sell his family’s house back in his hometown just to afford to marry into the Sinclair family.” “Did you guys empty out your entire life savings just to try and cover his half of the wedding costs?” “But looking at these envelopes… it doesn’t look like much of a flex, does it?” My parents’ faces drained of all color. The audience erupted into loud whispers, and ugly, degrading comments began floating up to the stage. I closed my eyes. That old house was my parents’ absolute last resort. Their safety net. It was located in a rapidly gentrifying downtown area back home. For years, developers had been circling, offering high prices for the lot. But my parents absolutely refused to sell. They always said: “We’re keeping the house.” “That way, if you ever get hurt out there, you always have a place to come back to.” But half a month ago, Sarah’s company ran into a massive cash flow crisis. She was awake every single night, pacing and stressed. I couldn’t stand seeing her like that, so I quietly convinced my parents to sell the old house. I wired that money directly into the escrow account of Sarah’s company to serve as an emergency bridge loan. But looking at the situation now… it seems that wasn’t necessary. I pulled out my phone and texted the escrow attorney, ordering him to immediately reverse the wire transfer and send the money back to my account. In the few seconds I was looking down at my phone, my dad was already frantically patting his pockets. “We have more, we have more.” “We brought a little extra.” He pulled a small, crumpled wad of cash from his inside jacket pocket. It was the emergency money he had refused to spend on water or food during the trip, hoarding it specifically for me. I finally grabbed his hand, stopping him. “Dad. No.” “You don’t owe anyone in this room a damn thing.” Liam acted as if my voice had startled him, throwing his hands up defensively. “Ethan, I didn’t mean anything by it.” “I just think that for a wedding this extravagant, the groom’s side should at least try to look the part.” “I was just worried people were going to laugh at your parents.” Sarah’s face finally hardened. “Liam, that’s enough.” But her tone was still entirely too soft. So soft that when Liam lowered his head, I could clearly see the smug, unrestrained smirk hiding on his lips. Right at that exact moment, Sarah’s phone rang. She answered it impatiently. “What is it?” Whatever the person on the other end said… Sarah’s face instantly went stark white.

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At our wedding reception, my husband, Liam, hired a “proxy groom” from an app to stand in for him. The guy showed up wearing an absurd, oversized mask printed with Liam’s face, holding a cheap prop ring, and absurdly attempted to finish the ceremony with me. My hands shook violently as I pulled out my phone to call him. In my panic, I accidentally hit the speakerphone button. Two seconds later, heavy, unmistakable panting echoed through the entire banquet hall. “Baby, you’re the only one who gets me this addicted. I’ve been sleeping with Maya for over a decade. Looking at her now is like staring at a slab of raw fat. It makes me sick.” The woman on the other end let out a breathy, triumphant laugh between moans. “Oh no, I accidentally hit ‘accept’ on my phone. She definitely heard that.” Liam went silent for exactly two seconds. Then, he chuckled. “Whatever. She’s an orphan who’s been screwed by me for ten years and is six months pregnant. If she leaves me, nobody else is going to want her anyway.” He let out a satisfied sigh. “Don’t worry about it. She’ll throw a tantrum and then get over it. Want to go another round?” The banquet hall fell into an absolute, horrified silence. I stood completely paralyzed on the dais. It felt like someone had poured boiling oil directly over my heart. Every single word was a jagged knife, and he didn’t care for a single second how deeply it cut. So, this is what a decade of unconditional devotion bought me. Total, humiliating degradation. Maybe he was right. I would throw a tantrum, and I would get over it. But when I got over it, I would pick up the shattered pieces of my dignity and permanently disappear from his life. … I hung up the phone. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely grip the microphone. “I need everyone here to act as a witness. This wedding is officially over.” “From this day forward, Liam and I are going our separate ways. We have absolutely nothing to do with each other.” The hushed, horrified whispers in the crowd instantly erupted into a chaotic buzz. I kept my eyes trained on the floor, dodging the hundreds of pitying, shocked, and mocking stares. As I walked down the aisle toward the exit, a few of Liam’s frat brothers in the back started jeering. “Hey, Maya, don’t leave yet!” “Liam’s busy consummating the marriage with the new girl! Why don’t you stick around and join the party?” I froze. Someone behind me let out a loud, obnoxious tsk, and intentionally stepped down hard on the trailing train of my wedding dress. The sudden yank threw me completely off balance. I crashed hard onto the marble floor. A blinding, tearing pain violently ripped through my lower abdomen. The frat boys burst into laughter. Gritting my teeth against the agony, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. In the emergency room, the nurses quickly cut away the heavy, blood-soaked layers of my wedding dress. “Severe uterine hemorrhaging. Can we get the father on the phone?” the triage nurse asked urgently. Before I could even answer, my phone rang with Liam’s custom ringtone. For a split second, I actually thought someone from the wedding had told him I was in the hospital, and he had finally mustered an ounce of basic human concern. But when I answered, the heavy, ragged breathing was still there. His tone was laced with exasperated annoyance. “Maya, it was a minor joke. Did you seriously have to call an ambulance and completely humiliate my friends in front of everyone?” Another brutal spasm of pain ripped through my stomach. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, waiting for the wave to pass before my trembling voice could form words. “Liam. The doctor says I’m at extreme risk of a miscarriage.” The line went silent for two seconds. “Are you seriously using the baby to guilt-trip me again?” In the background, I heard the woman let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Liam, you ditched her at the altar and said some pretty harsh things. She probably just desperately needs you to coddle her right now. Do you want me to give you a thirty-minute hall pass to go play the good boyfriend?” Liam laughed. “Coddle her? You know how she operates. She’s just playing mind games.” After exchanging a few more flirtatious whispers, he finally spoke directly into the phone again. “Maya, you aren’t in your twenties anymore. Stop acting like a jealous teenager throwing a tantrum for attention.” “Chloe was furious that I officially signed the marriage license with you, so I have to smooth things over with her. Once you’re done putting on this little performance, just go home.” In the past, hearing those words would have shattered my heart and kept me crying for days. But right now, as I watched the nurses rapidly swapping out blood-soaked gauze pads between my legs… I suddenly found that I didn’t have the energy to utter a single syllable. I hung up the phone. The attending OB/GYN walked in holding a clipboard, looking grim. “There is significant hemorrhaging at the placental margin. We need to administer aggressive medical intervention to save the pregnancy. Can your husband get here tonight?” I stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. “No need to save it. I need you to schedule an induction abortion.” The doctor hesitated, clearly taken aback. “Are you absolutely certain?” Chapter 2 “You are carrying twins. A late-term induction at this stage carries catastrophic risks to your body. It is highly probable that you will suffer permanent infertility.” I lowered my eyes. My fingertips curled tightly into my palms, and then slowly, methodically released. I nodded. “Yes. I am certain.” Shortly after the grueling, agonizing procedure was finished, my body continued to hemorrhage. I drifted into a delirious, high-grade fever. In the hazy space between consciousness and sleep, I was violently jolted awake by my phone vibrating on the metal tray table. “Maya, whip up a couple of your signature dishes and bring them to the St. Regis downtown. Keep it light and healthy.” “The poor girl is exhausted from earlier, and she said she really wants to try your cooking.” He issued the command with the casual entitlement of someone ordering room service. I clutched my phone, staring blankly at the hospital wall for a few seconds, and then let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. A twelve-year marathon. Endless compromises, infinite understanding, unconditional forgiveness. And the ultimate reward? It gave Liam the absolute, bulletproof confidence to destroy me without a single consequence. I closed my eyes, finally severing the rotting, gangrenous limb. “Liam. We’re getting a divorce.” Liam paused for a few seconds, then let out a scoff of pure amusement. “Maya, there’s a limit to how far you can push this jealous victim routine. Don’t back yourself into a corner you can’t get out of.” He spoke with total, unwavering certainty. Just like every other argument we’d ever had, he was absolutely convinced that I was fundamentally incapable of leaving him. I gripped the metal railing of the hospital bed, my chest so tight I couldn’t draw a breath. The heavy silence was broken when a nurse pushed the door open. “Ms. Quinn, are you still experiencing heavy bleeding?” Hearing the nurse’s voice, the arrogant dismissal in Liam’s tone finally shifted into something resembling concern. “You’re actually at the hospital?” Half an hour later, he finally walked into my recovery room. His eyes swept over my deathly pale face. He reached out and gently pinched my cheek, his tone dropping into a rare, comforting warmth. “Thank God you and the babies didn’t suffer any major complications.” “Be a good girl, stop being angry. I’ll make sure those guys get disciplined for tripping you.” He offered the reassurance so smoothly. As if the grotesque, humiliating circus of a wedding had never happened. As if he actually, genuinely cared about me. But the very next words out of his mouth were incredibly lucid, and incredibly cruel. “Tomorrow, my family is hosting a massive dinner. It was supposed to be our wedding celebration. Since you need to be on strict bed rest, I’m going to have Chloe attend in your place.” I looked at him, completely horrified by the sheer audacity. “She is going to attend in my place? So my entire family and your entire family can congratulate the two of you on our marriage?” Liam sighed, looking exhausted by my ‘unreasonable’ behavior. “Maya, you’ve tolerated my lifestyle for years. Why are you suddenly obsessing over meaningless technicalities?” He opened his leather briefcase and pulled out a property transfer deed. “Oh, right. Chloe really loves that old suburban farmhouse you own. Just sign this and transfer the deed to her. I’ll buy you a better condo in the city next month.” My hands turned into fists, crumpling the hospital blanket. That farmhouse was the absolute last asset my parents left me before they died. Their ashes were literally buried in the garden beneath the oak tree. My voice was a ragged whisper. “My parents’ ashes are buried there.” “I know.” He aggressively shoved a pen into my hand, pressing his thumb hard against my knuckles, physically forcing my hand toward the signature line. “She’s not going to dig up the graves. Just look at it as doing me a favor to keep the girl happy. Don’t be difficult.” I violently ripped my trembling hand out of his grip. “I am not signing it.” Liam’s expression instantly froze into a cold, threatening mask. “Maya, I have a hundred different ways to legally compel your signature. You do not want to force my hand.” My head snapped up. My breathing was ragged and shaky. Without giving me a single second to fight back, he grabbed my wrist, overpowered me, and physically forced my hand to drag the pen across the signature line. Once the ink was dry, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against my forehead. “Good girl.” It felt as if someone had reached into my chest and physically ripped my heart out. The pain was so agonizing I couldn’t breathe. He sat in the chair next to my bed for exactly ten minutes to fulfill his ‘husbandly duties.’ For the entire ten minutes, his eyes were glued to his phone, texting Chloe. When he finally stood up to leave, the nurse walked in to change my IV bags. “Are you the patient’s husband? She just underwent a late-term induction abortion. She requires 24-hour observation and care. You need to—” “I don’t have the time,” Liam cut her off abruptly. “I have a young girl at a hotel who gets terrified sleeping alone in the dark. I have to go be with her.” Liam stopped at the door, glancing back over his shoulder, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. “Maya, paying a nurse to act like a doctor just to play the victim and beg for my attention? It’s genuinely pathetic.” Chapter 3 I closed my eyes. In that exact moment, the absolute last remaining ember of warmth in my chest permanently extinguished. I forced myself to sit up and emailed a divorce attorney to draft the separation agreement. Right as I locked my phone, an Instagram notification popped up. Chloe had just posted a new photo. She was kissing Liam on the cheek. Behind them, the hotel suite was overflowing with luxury shopping bags and jewelry boxes. The caption read: [He told me he wants to give me the best the world has to offer.] I liked the photo. Twenty minutes later, the door opened. It was Liam’s executive assistant. He looked incredibly awkward as he handed me a crumpled, unboxed designer scarf. There were visible wrinkles in the silk, and a suspicious, sticky stain near the edge. I had just seen this exact scarf in Chloe’s Instagram post. It had been carelessly tossed onto the messy hotel bed behind them. A text from Liam immediately popped up on my screen. “Stop being jealous of a young girl. I got you a gift too.” I calmly told the assistant to leave it on the table. Even feeling disappointment required too much energy. The next day, a nurse wheeled me down to the radiology department for a follow-up ultrasound. I actually ran into Liam in the hospital lobby. I assumed he was coming to see me. I had literally just pulled the draft of the divorce papers out of my purse when a sickly-sweet, whining voice echoed through the corridor. “Liam! The baby just kicked me!” I turned my head stiffly, my neck feeling like rusted machinery. Standing there was Chloe. Her pregnant belly was significantly larger than mine had been. A massive, suffocating wave of sheer absurdity crashed over me. It took me a long time to locate my voice. “She’s pregnant?” Liam went completely silent. He gently guided Chloe into the passenger seat of his waiting SUV before walking back over to me. He clearly felt there was no point in hiding it anymore. “She’s eight months along.” “Months ago, when she first got pregnant, the doctor put her on pelvic rest. That’s why I came home and slept with you.” “Honestly, Maya, you should be thanking her. If it wasn’t for her complications, you wouldn’t have gotten pregnant so quickly and secured your status as my wife.” “Now that you know, it’s actually perfect timing. I’m going to throw Chloe a massive, public wedding so she can legitimately stand by my side.” For a split second, I genuinely felt like a pathetic, tragic clown in a circus. I fought the intense, burning sting in the back of my nose and looked him dead in the eyes. “Liam, twelve years. From high school until today. Twelve years of my life. What exactly am I to you?” He remained silent for a moment, then simply stated: “Why do guys cheat? The spark dies. It gets exhausting. You get bored, and you want something fresh and thrilling.” “Maya, twelve years of the exact same routine. I literally cannot even force myself to be physically attracted to you anymore.” I stared at him. And suddenly, I started to laugh. I laughed until hot tears blurred my vision and spilled down my cheeks. So this is what twelve years of unconditional devotion amounted to. It was a humiliating, spectacular joke. “Liam. We are getting a divorce. Seriously. I am giving you exactly what you want.” When I said those words, Liam stared at me for a very long time. He stared at me until I genuinely thought he was going to refuse. But then, he agreed. “Fine.” “Once you finish taking care of Chloe during her postpartum recovery, I’ll sign the divorce papers.” With that, he gave me one last look, turned around, and walked away. I took massive, greedy gulps of air, but I still felt so suffocated I wanted to vomit. When I was wheeled back to my room, my fever spiked dangerously high. I was hovering on the edge of delirium when my phone suddenly exploded with notifications. I sluggishly unlocked the screen, and my entire body went rigid. My name was the number one trending topic on Twitter. Local News Anchor Maya Quinn Exposed as Serial Homewrecker, Uses Pregnancy to Extort Marriage. Chloe had uploaded a forty-minute video, identifying herself by name, and publicly accusing me of infiltrating and destroying her relationship with Liam. She claimed I was a habitual manipulator. She alleged I had multiple prior abortions, that I was notorious for going home with random men the second I turned eighteen, and that I had seduced a married teacher in high school, engaging in explicit acts in the classroom. She provided a dense, overwhelming collage of ‘evidence.’ She even posted a photo of me in my high school uniform, walking into a gynecologist’s office with a male teacher. My phone started ringing frantically. It was Mr. Davis, the station director at my news network. “Maya, you know how strict the morality clauses are in our industry. This scandal is blowing up across every major demographic. You need to focus on handling your personal life right now. You are officially suspended from the broadcast pending an internal review.” Chapter 4 The phone slipped from my ear, crashing onto the hospital floor. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I leaned over the bedrail and began violently dry-heaving. When my stomach was completely empty, leaving only the burning taste of bile, I retrieved my phone with trembling hands and dialed Liam. He answered with a heavy sigh. He clearly already knew everything. “The wedding is scheduled for three days from now. Chloe doesn’t want to walk down the aisle branded as a mistress, so she recorded the video to get ahead of the narrative.” “Maya, she’s just a young girl. Let her have this moment. Don’t be vindictive.” “As for your job, I can easily leverage my network to get you a significantly better position. Or, name your price, and I’ll cut you a check to compensate you.” My hands shook violently as I demanded he issue a public retraction. His tone was dripping with exhaustion. “Maya, stop causing drama.” Stop causing drama. With those three casual words, he effortlessly annihilated a career I had spent ten years bleeding to build. I hung up the phone. I aggressively wiped the tears from my eyes. I spent the next hour drafting a meticulous, thousand-word refutation. I attached a scanned copy of my marriage certificate with Liam, proving I was the legal wife, and posted it across all my social channels as absolute proof. Three minutes later, my post was flagged and deleted. The automated notification cited: Dissemination of False Information and Malicious Defamation. Immediately after, Liam called me. His voice was laced with dark, threatening anger. “Maya, why do you insist on attacking a young girl?!” It felt as if someone had poured boiling acid directly over my heart. The pain ripped my chest open. I grabbed the drafted divorce agreement sitting on my nightstand. And I tore it into shreds, laughing hysterically. “Liam, I’m not getting a divorce! I refuse to sign! As long as I don’t sign, she will permanently be a dirty, illegitimate mistress. She destroyed my entire life, and I am going to make absolutely certain she spends the rest of hers in misery.” Liam let out a short, cold, cynical laugh. “You can certainly try.” Ten minutes after he hung up, he posted a public response directly under Chloe’s video. Liam categorically denied that we were legally married. He validated her claims that I was a serial abuser of abortions, that I engaged in promiscuous behavior from the moment I turned eighteen, and that I had a history of seducing teachers. “Ms. Quinn has stalked and harassed me for years. She exploited a moment when I was heavily intoxicated, infiltrated my hotel room, and intentionally got pregnant to extort me. Her actions constitute a severe violation of my legal rights, and my legal team is preparing to pursue aggressive civil and criminal litigation against her.” The narrative violently shifted against me. The comment sections across every platform were a bloodbath, branding me a manipulative, gold-digging sociopath. Someone photoshopped a funeral portrait of my face with the words ‘Cheap Whore’ stamped across my forehead in blood-red text. Liam texted me a video file. My hands shook as I opened it. It was a video from the cramped, run-down apartment we shared in college. It was a video of the very first time we slept together. But his face had been digitally scrubbed. The male actors in the video had been deepfaked, replaced by multiple anonymous, thuggish-looking men. “Maya, we’ve been together for over a decade. I really don’t want to see you completely humiliated and destroyed. Be a good girl, and back off.” I burst out laughing. I laughed so hard the tears completely blinded me. The unconditional, selfless love I had given him for twelve years… Liam was now weaponizing it into a rusted blade, systematically carving me into bloody pieces. I never, in my darkest nightmares, imagined that he would stoop to utilizing revenge porn to protect Chloe. I gripped my phone, suffocating in a despair so absolute I couldn’t even form words. After hanging up, I made the only choice I had left. I called the police. When the detectives arrived at the hospital to take my statement, I genuinely believed the nightmare was finally over. But Liam arrived moments later. And he brought the marriage certificate. He presented the certificate to the police, claiming this was simply a volatile domestic dispute. He even produced documentation regarding my previous depressive episodes, insisting that I was experiencing a severe psychological breakdown and that I had orchestrated the entire online scandal myself to play the victim. The police, hesitant to intervene in what looked like a messy, high-conflict divorce with conflicting evidence, documented the incident and left. I lay in the hospital bed, sobbing helplessly. Liam sat next to me, gently wiping the tears from my cheeks, letting out a soft sigh. “Maya, you’re still pregnant. Why can’t you just learn to behave?” As the words left his mouth, the door to the hospital room swung open. Chloe walked in, carrying a thermal food container. “Maya, Liam mentioned you love vegetable congee when you’re sick. I spent all morning making this for you.” She kept her head down, her voice trembling, playing the absolute perfect, repentant victim. “I… I was just so terrified that people would call me a homewrecker, that’s why I posted the video… I never expected the internet to react so violently…”

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On the day of my wedding, my bitter rival slammed his foot onto the gas pedal and broadsided my bridal car. His logic was simple: if he couldn’t have me, we would die together. Instead, he was critically injured, and I woke up with complete amnesia. Dragging his broken leg into my hospital room, he pulled me into his arms with delirious ecstasy, whispering that he was the love of my life. For five years after we married, Scott Sterling guarded me like his most prized possession. Until he grew bored. At an intimate dinner party, an unfamiliar girl appeared at his side. Her face and fiery demeanor were the spitting image of how I used to be. Giggling, she insisted on playing a round of Never Have I Ever. “Never have I ever slept with my boss.” “Never have I ever received his wife’s stolen wedding band as a keepsake. And…” She flashed an arrogant, triumphant smirk across the table. “I’m four months pregnant with his child.” “You lose, Mrs. Sterling. As your forfeit, Mr. Sterling belongs to me for the next six months. He already promised to be by my side when I deliver.” The entire room went dead silent. Nobody dared to breathe. Only Scott sat motionless, his gaze heavy and conflicted, shifting between her and me. After a long pause, he parted his lips to speak. I didn’t care to hear his answer. “Sure. Take him.” 1 Scott’s expression hardened instantly. What he didn’t know was that my memories had already returned. Before him, the man I truly loved was named Gabriel Cross. Breathtakingly handsome, completely unhinged, and mercilessly vengeful. And I was cut from the exact same cloth. Scott Sterling was finished. … “Summer, let me explain. I warned her not to run her mouth, she just—” Scott leaned forward across the lounge booth, reaching out to take my hand. I lifted my foot and planted the tip of my high heel firmly against his chest. With measured force, I shoved him backward toward the girl. Scarlett Hayes seized the opening. She linked her arm through his, tilting her chin up with a smug, defiant grin. “Why are you so nervous, Scott? You made her out to be terrifying, warning me never to cross her. I thought she was actually someone formidable.” She tilted her head, looking me up and down with open condescension. “Turns out she’s a pushover. I laid all my cards on the table and she didn’t even squeak. What a pathetic doormat.” She tugged his sleeve playfully. “Come on, baby daddy. Come home with me and cook dinner for our baby.” Scott didn’t budge an inch. His dark, heavy gaze remained locked onto me. My utter lack of reaction seemed to disturb him. He was searching my face, hunting for any flicker of jealousy or grief. I slowly held up three fingers, a faint, mocking smile touching my lips. “Who gave you permission to leave? The game isn’t over.” “First, I have an official marriage certificate. I’m not a side piece.” Scarlett’s footsteps halted. Her smile froze. “Second, I actually have dozens of wedding bands. He bought out the entire display case of every ring I so much as glanced at, letting me rotate them on a whim.” “The one he stole and gave to you happens to be the cheapest one I own, and the one I despise the most.” Scarlett’s face darkened completely, her eyes flaring with hostility. Scott’s friends rushed to intercede: “Summer, drop it! Scarlett’s completely unhinged—if you push her, she’s capable of anything!” I smiled softly, my gaze dropping to her lower stomach. “Third, Scott strapped himself into a labor simulator once.” “He said the contractions were torture, that he couldn’t bear to put my body through that kind of agony. He told me we would either adopt or stay child-free.” I tilted my head, looking straight into her eyes. “Now I’m wondering… did he just decide to let someone else carry the burden for me?” Scarlett’s face twisted into an ugly mask of rage. I lowered my fingers, flashing her a radiant, empty smile. “You lose.” The silence in the lounge was suffocating. It took several seconds for anyone to find their voice, stammering to break the tension. “See? Summer could never let Scott go. She’s just playing to win him back!” “Right, right! It’s just a drinking game, none of this is real. Let’s all calm down…” Scott visibly relaxed. He immediately pulled his arm free from Scarlett’s grip and stepped toward me with a relieved smile. I shook my head, keeping my eyes locked on Scarlett. “You can have Scott. But as your forfeit, I want your baby.” “Are you out of your mind, you bitch?!” Scarlett shrieked. “This is my child! It will only ever call me mother—” I rested my chin in my hand, laughing softly as I cut her off. “I mean right now.” With a flick of my wrist, a fruit paring knife slid across the marble table, stopping inches from Scarlett’s hands. The polished steel reflected her violent, disbelieving glare. 2 Scarlett snapped. She grabbed a half-empty tequila bottle, smashed it against the edge of the table, and lunged at me with the jagged neck. “I’ll kill you, you psycho!” Scott and his friends scrambled to intercept her. I was faster. Before the broken glass could swing downward, the tip of my paring knife was already pressed firmly against her abdomen. Beneath the thin knit of her dress, I could feel the faint, warm curve of her belly. Scarlett froze. Cold sweat beaded along her temple. Her hand began to tremble. I studied her expression, feeling a sudden urge to laugh. An unhinged beauty? Yes, Scarlett Hayes looked and acted remarkably like the woman I used to be. A replica is still just a cheap knockoff. Over the past five years beside Scott, I had kept my claws retracted so thoroughly that he had forgotten what kind of monster I truly was. “Summer!” Scott violently yanked Scarlett behind his back. His palm hovered over her stomach in an instinctive, protective posture. “Stop this.” I arched a brow. “Stop what?” “Didn’t you bring her here to flaunt her in my face?” “If she has the nerve to challenge me, she pays the toll. Am I wrong?” A long, suffocating pause stretched between us. Scott let out a quiet sigh, his tone softening as if he were simply dealing with an unruly, spoiled child. “I’ll pay it for her.” Without another word, he took a step toward me. The paring knife sank smoothly into his flank. White linen shirt. Crimson blood. I stared at the dark stain blooming across his side, the vivid red stinging my eyes. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he looked at me with tender devotion, raising a hand to gently caress my cheek. “There. Are you happy now?” “Scott, are you crazy?!” Scarlett screamed, trying to claw her way past him. Scott ignored her, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her toward the exit with long, hurried strides. Her voice drifted back up the stairwell—a chaotic mix of profanities and tearful concern as she checked his wound while swearing to tear my throat out. Through it all, Scott’s arms remained tightly wrapped around her stomach, shielding it from every jolt. I stood on the balcony, watching their silhouettes vanish into the night. A cold smirk touched the corners of my mouth. Human nature truly is a pathetic joke. Years ago, Scott and I were mortal enemies. If he poached my corporate contracts on Monday, I would sabotage his supply chain on Tuesday. I spent years convinced he wanted nothing more than to see me dead. How bizarre that he secretly loved me. How disgusting that he still managed to betray me. I pressed a hand against my chest, willing the dull ache beneath my ribs to quiet down. What disgusted me most was that during these five stolen years… I had genuinely loved him too. That afternoon, I sat in the penthouse scrolling through my phone. My real fiancé, Gabriel Cross, had spent the last five years scouring the globe for me. Scott had laid down an elaborate web of false leads, sending Gabriel on wild goose chases across Europe and South America. Using my “safety from business rivals” as an excuse, Scott kept me under round-the-clock surveillance. A tracker in my phone. Monitored calls. Every social media post pre-screened. He had constructed a gilded cage, locking me inside and welding the bars shut with his own hands. My screen suddenly flashed with a message request. The profile picture was a sunset photo of Scott and Scarlett on a tropical beach, her head resting sweetly on his shoulder. The moment I accepted, a barrage of photos flooded the chat. Scott sitting beside her bed, gently massaging stretch mark cream onto her baby bump with eyes full of adoration. Scott in the kitchen wearing an apron, plating an elaborate, organic meal tailored for prenatal nutrition. Then came an audio message, Scarlett’s voice purring with triumphant venom: “His friends told me you were his untouchable muse. His sacred white rose.” “So what? He still got bored.” “I don’t give a damn about titles or marriage licenses. The woman who holds his heart is the only one who wins.” “I sent you a little gift. Make sure you sign for it.” Right on cue, the front doorbell chimed. A courier handed me a thick envelope containing divorce papers. On the signature line for the husband, Scott Sterling’s name was already penned in black ink. Sharp, aggressive, unmistakable. His genuine handwriting. I stared at his name for a long time. Then, for the first time in days, I laughed aloud. Did Scarlett truly believe I would claw and beg to keep him? I couldn’t wait to be rid of him. I signed my name cleanly across the paper. I snapped a picture and sent it straight to Scott’s private number. Congratulations on the wedding. Within three seconds, my phone began ringing frantically. 3 I declined every call. Five minutes later, the front door of the penthouse was kicked open with a thunderous crash. Scott stood in the entryway, chest heaving violently. He had run so fast that the wound in his side had ripped wide open, soaking half his shirt in a sickening sheet of red. He didn’t seem to notice the blood. He lunged across the living room like a madman, snatched the divorce papers off the counter, and tore them into confetti. Still unsatisfied, he struck a lighter and watched the scraps burn to ash in the sink. Only then did he turn to face me, his eyes wild and terrifyingly possessive. “Summer, you know I would rather die than let you leave.” “You knew Scarlett tricked me into signing those papers.” “Why the hell did you sign them?!” Before I could answer, he crossed the room and crashed his mouth against mine. It was a violent, suffocating kiss, reeking of desperation and the metallic tang of blood. I wrenched my face away, panting as a mocking laugh slipped past my lips. “Right. You’d die before leaving me—but cheating on me was totally fine.” He froze. “What, did you think I was so hopelessly in love with you that I’d swallow anything?” Meeting my cold, derisive gaze, Scott’s ferocious posture crumbled. He buried his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling shakily. “I was wrong. Tell me what to do. What will it take for you to forgive me?” “Make Scarlett get an abortion.” Scott didn’t hesitate for a second. “Done.” “Cut all ties with her.” This time, he paused for a fraction of a second. “…Done.” I didn’t answer. I just chuckled quietly. At the exact same moment, a shrill, hysterical wail erupted from the nightstand. “Scott Sterling! You lying bastard!” Scott’s face drained of color. I pulled my phone out from beneath the throw pillow. The screen showed an active call, running for the past ten minutes. His little mistress had heard every single word. Through the speaker, Scarlett screamed through racking sobs: “You’re the one who threw away me and our baby! Don’t you dare regret this!” The call clicked dead. Scott looked like he wanted to tear his hair out. Fury and panic warred in his expression. He glared at me, swallowed his rage, shoved me away, and sprinted out the door. By the time I tracked his phone’s GPS to a suspension bridge on the edge of the city, their melodramatic tragedy was already underway. Shouting, weeping, violent shoving, desperate embraces. The moment Scott spotted my car, his entire frame tensed. He stepped backward, positioning Scarlett firmly behind him. “Summer, what else do you want?!” he snapped, his patience fraying. “Scarlett’s pregnancy is fragile. I’m warning you, don’t push her over the edge!” Scarlett suddenly lunged out from behind him. Tears were streaming down her face, but her eyes glittered with manic determination. She threw herself at me, her fingers digging into my coat as she hissed in my ear: “A man’s promises mean nothing.” “You don’t listen to what they say, you watch what they do.” “I’m carrying his bloodline. Who do you think Scott chooses when it comes down to life and death?” Before I could react, she locked her hands around my throat and threw us both over the railing. The icy wind roared in my ears before the freezing river water swallowed us whole. The shock was immediate—like a thousand needles stabbing into my skin at once. Above the roar of the current, Scarlett’s panicked, screaming voice echoed: “Scott! I’m carrying your child! Let’s see if you have the guts to watch me drown!” A heavy splash broke the surface. Scott had dived in. He swam toward us like a frantic animal. After a hesitation of barely two seconds, his arms wrapped securely around Scarlett. “Summer, you’re a champion swimmer, you can make it to shore on your own! Scarlett can’t!” Scarlett lay against his shoulder, looking back at me through the churning water with a venomous, triumphant smile. She mouthed the words: I won. I smiled back at her through the dark water. Maybe it’s a win-win. She blinked, confused. I didn’t call for help. And I didn’t swim toward the bank. Scott was right: I was an exceptional swimmer. And it had just occurred to me that if I couldn’t leave him alive… What about dying? The sunlight filtered weakly through the icy current. Watching the two figures tangled together, I allowed my body to sink deeper into the shadows. Goodbye, Scott… Just as I turned to kick toward the far downstream bank, the reflection above suddenly shifted. 4 Scott had looked back, seen the empty water, and lost his mind. He shoved Scarlett toward the shallow rocks and plunged back into the depths, clawing through the freezing current. His body felt like burning iron as his arms locked around my waist, dragging me violently toward the surface. He threw me onto the muddy bank before turning back to pull Scarlett out. It was too late. The river was freezing. By the time Scarlett was dragged onto the gravel, she was curled into a ball, shivering violently as dark red blood began to seep through her white knit dress. By the time the ambulance reached the ER, the baby was gone. Scarlett’s screams tore through the sterile hospital corridor as her fingernails dug bloody furrows into Scott’s arms. “I hate you, Scott! I hate you!” “You killed our baby! It was you and that filthy bitch! Kill her! Aveng—avenge our child!” Scott looked down at her with an agonizing tenderness I had never seen before. When he turned to look at me, his face was an emotionless mask. I gave him a faint smile. “Are you crying?” “How rare. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry.” “Why did you even bother saving me? Now everyone’s miserable.” Scott’s eyes turned entirely bloodshot. For the first time in five years, he raised his hand toward me. His chest heaved violently, his voice trembling with fury. “Shut your mouth!” “Don’t push your luck, Summer! Just because I love you doesn’t mean you can treat my life like a game!” His palm hung suspended in the air. Trembling for several seconds, his fist finally slammed into the concrete wall beside my head. “Get out. I don’t want to look at you.” After that night, Scott never came home. The man who used to send me ten texts an hour went completely silent. On the day Scarlett was discharged from her post-miscarriage care, they finished constructing a private memorial plot for the lost child. Scott’s assistant arrived to “escort” me to the cemetery. The moment Scarlett saw me, raw hatred burned in her eyes. “Kneel!” she shrieked. “Kneel and beg my baby for forgiveness!” I raised an eyebrow, looking at Scott. This time, he didn’t step in front of me. With a jaw set like stone, he walked up behind me. A sharp kick struck the back of my knees, sending me crashing down onto the damp gravel. A heavy hand clamped down on the back of my head, forcing it down with relentless strength. My forehead struck the granite stone with a dull, sickening thud. Three times. Black spots danced across my vision. Above me, Scott’s voice was hoarse and hollow. “Scarlett hasn’t eaten in three days. She said she wouldn’t touch a bite until you paid your respects.” “You caused the death of that child, Summer. You owe this to her…” I lay against the cold stone, staring at the tiny name engraved on the marker. Hope Sterling. Scott must have named it. He really did care that much. Scarlett stepped forward, her hand raised high. Scott instinctively moved to intercept her wrist, but froze when she turned her tear-streaked face toward him. “What, feeling sorry for her?!” “Who felt sorry for our baby?!” Smack! The slap landed with brutal force. My cheek went completely numb, the sharp taste of copper filling my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Scott’s fists shaking violently at his sides. That wasn’t enough for Scarlett. Scott brought us all back to the penthouse. Like a conquering general claiming spoils of war, Scarlett kicked open the door to my master bedroom. She took a pair of heavy tailoring shears and shredded my custom wedding gown into ribbons. Every single designer ring in my jewelry box was jammed onto her fingers. She held up her hands, diamonds flashing under the chandelier, smiling with malicious triumph. “Scott is taking me on a private island retreat tomorrow. He promised he’d give me another baby.” “So tell me… who’s the worthless one now?” I kept my head down, offering no response. The heavy front door slammed shut. From the driveway below, Scarlett’s shrill laughter drifted through the open window. “Call me Mrs. Sterling, boys!” Followed by the awkward, hesitant murmurs of Scott’s entourage: “Hey… afternoon, Mrs. Sterling…” I walked out onto the balcony as their convoy pulled away. Scarlett leaned out the passenger window, giving me the middle finger, the diamonds glittering under the afternoon sun. Only then did I allow a genuine, unburdened smile to spread across my face. I leaned against the railing, waving goodbye with cheerful warmth. In the side mirror of his car, Scott was watching me. Seeing my smile, he frowned, instinctively tapping the brakes. Scarlett quickly grabbed his hand and pressed it against her lower belly. He looked away, accelerating onto the expressway. Once they hit the highway, a sudden shriek pierced the silence of their car. “Shit! Where’s my phone?!” One of Scott’s friends in the back seat blinked, looking down at his screen. “Wait… Scarlett’s account is going live?” “Hold on… isn’t that Summer?” On the phone screen, I was leaning casually against the terrace railing of the penthouse. The wind tousled my dark hair, bathed in the rich, golden light of the setting sun. Every distinctive landmark of the skyline behind me was visible in sharp detail. I was smiling with radiant freedom. Scott had kept my personal phone under digital lock and key. So I simply lifted Scarlett’s spare. Her passcode was Scott’s birthday—pathetically predictable. Did they really think I took that slap for free? I leaned toward the camera and spoke softly: “I miss you.” Laughter erupted inside Scott’s car. “Man, she really knows how to play you, Scott! Using an Instagram Live to beg you to turn around!” Scott stared at the screen, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in an involuntary smirk, the tension leaving his shoulders. He kept his tone stern: “I’m not turning around. She needs to learn her lesson this time…” His words were cut off mid-sentence. On the screen, my smile softened into something breathtakingly tender as I whispered to the lens: “I miss you, Gabriel Cross.” Give him a single breadcrumb, and he will tear the earth apart to reach me. My true love. Gabriel Cross. The moment the name left my lips, the screech of burning rubber tore across the interstate.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “570808”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel