In the fifth year of our marriage, my husband and I started trying for a baby. I had just propped a pillow under my hips, adjusting my position, when his phone rang. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled away and started getting dressed. “A friend invited me out for a round of golf. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” This was the 99th time our attempts had been interrupted. I looked at him and, to my own surprise, spoke. “Leo, let’s get a divorce.” The motion of strapping on his watch paused for a fraction of a second. He laughed. “You want to divorce me because I’m going to play golf?” I swiped open his phone and pointed to a chat message. “Can’t wait to get a hole-in-one with you tomorrow, big bro! ;)” Leo frowned. “Because of this?” I nodded calmly. “Because of this.” 1 “We’re just golf buddies, it’s slang. Why do you have to be so sensitive about everything?” he grumbled. “You bring up divorce every other week. When was the last time? Two weeks ago?” He stopped dressing and sat back down on the bed. “Fine. I won’t go. Happy now?” He sighed, his tone a mixture of exasperation and condescension, as if he were placating a petulant child. A humorless smile touched my lips. “I’m not joking,” I repeated. “Let’s get a divorce.” Leo’s brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “So I’m not allowed to have a hobby? I have to be attached to your hip 24/7? When did you become so unreasonable?” He stood up again. “If you don’t trust me, then come with me.” Without giving me a choice, he pulled me up, threw a random set of clothes at me, and drove us to the golf course. When we arrived, four or five people were already there, greeting Leo warmly. “Leo! We’ve been waiting for you. Hey, is this your wife?” “No wonder the papers are always talking about what a happy couple you are. Can’t even play a round of golf without her.” “I’m so jealous.” A young woman walked towards us, vibrant and full of life, every strand of her hair seeming to radiate energy. Her form-fitting sportswear hugged a curvaceous figure. In my drab, oversized coat, I felt completely out of place. “Your wife looks so sweet and gentle, Leo. You’re a lucky man.” Though I’d never seen her before, my gut told me she was the one who had sent the text. “Alright, let’s go! We’ve been waiting!” someone called out. Leo changed and joined them on the course, leaving me to stand on the sidelines like an awkward spectator. “Ah, so close to a hole-in-one!” “Too bad! Next time for sure.” “I’m determined to get a hole-in-one today!” “Nobody leaves until we get a hole-in-one!” The phrase ‘hole-in-one’ was tossed around constantly, as if to prove to me that it was nothing more than a common golfing term. During a break, Leo walked over, his voice laced with exasperation. “See? I told you it was just golf slang. Can you stop making a scene now?” Before I could answer, the young woman, Hailey, jogged over, her ponytail swinging. “Abby, why are you just sitting here? Come play with us!” “I don’t know how.” Hailey covered her mouth in an exaggerated show of surprise. “You don’t play golf? Oh, you have to learn! Leo is an amazing player. He’s the one who taught me everything I know.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Leo loves golf so much. It would be great if you learned to play with him.” “I don’t like it,” I said flatly. Leo’s current success was something we had built together. When he was starting out, he had no money. I was the one who worked myself to the bone to support his dream. The first time I was pregnant, I was delivering food part-time to make ends meet. It was pouring rain, and when I arrived, a few drops of water had gotten onto the customer’s sushi. He was furious. He threw the box in my face and demanded I get on my knees and eat it off the floor. I turned to leave, but he grabbed a nearby golf club and swung it, hitting me squarely in the stomach. I miscarried. I never told Leo what happened. So he could play golf without a care in the world. But I couldn’t. I would never touch a golf club as long as I lived. A few moments later, Hailey and Leo walked off together. As they played, he would occasionally offer her guidance. From where I sat, his tall frame seemed to envelop her completely. There was a subtle, almost imperceptible physical contact between them, a restrained intimacy that crackled with unspoken chemistry. Soon, a loud cheer erupted from the group. “Leo got a hole-in-one!” “You have to buy us all dinner!” “Leo, you’re incredible!” Leo grinned, holding his club aloft. He then tipped all the caddies on duty—a generous five thousand dollars each. Five thousand dollars. That was how much I used to make working three part-time jobs for two months straight. After they finished, they all clamored to go out and celebrate. As we got to the car, Hailey quickly slipped into the front passenger seat. I paused for a second, then opened the back door. As the car started moving, Hailey seemed to suddenly remember me. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Abby! I get carsick, so I just habitually sat in the front. You don’t mind, do you? We can pull over and switch.” Leo’s voice cut in before I could respond. “It’s fine. If you get carsick, just stay there.” I swallowed the words on the tip of my tongue and slowly closed my eyes. After a sudden brake, something rolled out from under the seat and hit my foot. I picked it up. It was a used tube of lipstick. 2 The shade was bright and bold. Not mine. It was, however, very similar to the color on Hailey’s lips. How many times had she been in this car without my knowledge? The thought spun in my mind, but before I could come to any conclusion, Hailey suddenly clutched her stomach, her face contorted in pain. Leo noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?” Hailey was too pale to speak. “It’s not your period this week. Did you eat something bad? I’ll take you to the hospital.” Without another word, he slammed on the brakes. “Abby, Hailey’s not feeling well. I’m taking her to the hospital. You can get out here and find your own way home.” He practically dragged me out of the car, giving me no chance to refuse. Before I could even open my mouth to protest, the car had sped off, leaving me in a cloud of dust. My hands and feet were numb with cold. I stood frozen to the spot. He had forgotten that I’d rushed out of the house without my phone, without my wallet. He had simply abandoned me here. And yet, he remembered Hailey’s menstrual cycle with such perfect clarity. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, but it felt like all the strength had been drained from my body. Under the scorching sun, I began the long walk home. The oppressive heat reminded me of my second miscarriage. I had been wearing a heavy mascot costume, handing out flyers, when a speeding scooter knocked me over. I screamed for help, but my voice was muffled by the costume. By the time I got to the hospital, my second child was gone. I took the five hundred dollars in compensation money and gave it to Leo. He bought a decent suit for a networking event and landed a hundred-thousand-dollar contract. That night, he held me, ecstatic, completely unaware of what had happened to our baby. Later, when I told him, his eyes were red, his voice trembling. “Abby, our baby… is gone.” Two hours later, I dragged my numb legs to our front door and punched in the code. The first thing I saw was Hailey lying on the living room sofa, with Leo kneeling in front of her. He was holding a bowl of porridge, patiently feeding it to her, spoonful by spoonful. So gentle. So patient. I had seen him like this a thousand times, but never from a third-person perspective. Leo turned and saw me. His hand froze mid-air. He put down the bowl and walked over to me. “What took you so long?” I was on the verge of collapse, barely able to speak. “Water…” Leo immediately brought me a glass of water. I tilted my head back and drank greedily. The cool liquid soothed my parched throat, but a second later, I felt my airway constrict. The glass fell from my hand, and I clutched my neck, staring at Leo. “What… did you put in it?” “Honey.” The word left his lips, and then his face paled in horror. After some quick treatment to alleviate the reaction, I could finally breathe again. Hailey rushed to apologize. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault! I didn’t like the taste of plain water, so Leo added some honey for me. I’m so sorry it made you have a reaction, it’s all my fault…” After all these years, Leo knew all my preferences, and he was always so careful about my allergies. Whenever we ate out, he would meticulously check every dish. But now, he had forgotten I was allergic to honey. I lowered my eyes, my heart as still and dead as a stagnant pond. Soon after, Hailey left. Leo saw her out and came back in. I spoke again. “Tomorrow, I’m sending you the divorce papers.” Leo’s eyes widened, and he refused without a second thought. “I don’t agree!” Then, perhaps remembering what had just happened, his tone softened. “I was wrong earlier. I was in a hurry and I forgot. I’ll buy you a gift later to make it up to you.” The next day, I received a package. It was a golf club. 3 My blood ran cold. I threw the club as hard as I could. The pain of my first miscarriage was still so vivid. The feel of the golf club hitting my stomach, the sharp, searing pain. And then, the slow trickle of red down my legs. I had lost my first child before I even knew I was pregnant. Tears streamed down my face, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Just then, a message popped up on my phone. It was from Hailey. “Abby, do you like the gift? Leo asked me to help him pick something out to cheer you up, and I thought of this club. It’s a dream for so many golfers.” “What happened yesterday was my fault. I hope you can accept this gift and forgive me, and forgive Leo too.” So, even the gift to appease me was chosen by Hailey. But why, of all things, a golf club? I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood, the memory of my lost child overwhelming me. The front door suddenly opened. It was Leo. And behind him was Hailey. Leo saw my tear-streaked face and frowned, rushing towards me. “What’s wrong?” But then, Hailey shrieked and fell to her knees, cradling the golf club, which had snapped in two. “How could this happen? This was my favorite club!” she wailed. “I got my first hole-in-one with this club! How could it be broken?” She cried pitifully, hugging the broken club to her chest. Then, she looked up at me, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Abby, d-did you not like the gift? If you didn’t like it, you could have just said so. Why did you have to destroy it?” I was speechless, a lump forming in my throat. Leo’s cold, hard gaze was fixed on me. “Abby, even if you don’t like it, you shouldn’t waste someone’s kind intentions.” “Apologize.” He didn’t ask me why I was crying. He didn’t ask why I had broken the club. He just demanded that I apologize. It was a gift for me, yet I had no right to do with it as I pleased. The irony was suffocating. “Why don’t you just give her another hole-in-one? I’m sure that would make her feel better.” The next second, a sharp slap landed across my face. My head snapped to the side, my ears ringing. Leo had never hit me before. This was the first time. And it was for another woman. Realizing what he had done, Leo’s expression froze for a moment before his face contorted with rage again. “Abby, you’re getting more and more out of line.” I lifted my chin. “How am I out of line? All I did was repeat her own words back to her. Is that so out of line?” Leo’s chest heaved. “You know exactly what kind of filthy mind you have.” He then turned and left, taking Hailey with him. I managed a weak, humorless smile and began to pack my things. I had just finished typing up the divorce agreement when a wave of nausea hit me. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up. A few seconds later, I froze. 4 I didn’t know what to feel when I saw the two pink lines. After a year of trying with no success, now that I was leaving, I was pregnant. But even so, it wouldn’t change my mind. I would consider it a gift from the heavens. With a child by my side, I wouldn’t be so lonely. As for the missing father, I would do my best to make up for his absence. I left the divorce agreement on the table and walked out with my suitcase. But as I reached the door, I ran into Leo, his face dark and stormy. He saw my suitcase and sneered. “Just committed a heinous crime and now you’re trying to run away?” I was stunned. “What?” He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the hospital. “Abby, I never thought you could be so vicious. I told you there was nothing between me and her, but you were so jealous you had to destroy her life! Will you only be happy when she’s dead?” I couldn’t understand what he was saying. I struggled against his grip. “What did I do? What are you talking about?” “Still playing dumb?” Leo’s voice was like ice, his eyes devoid of any warmth. “You hired someone to take a golf club… and shove it inside her, to give her a ‘hole-in-one.’ Abby, don’t you dare tell me you didn’t do it!”

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1 On my birthday, my mother-in-law, fresh off the operating table, was rushed back into the emergency room. In a newly posted video by an intern, he was the one holding the scalpel, cutting her open. My wife, who was supposed to be the lead surgeon, was nowhere in sight. The caption read: “They say an intern isn’t qualified to operate? Doesn’t matter when the department head’s wife has a soft spot for you.” My colleagues flooded the comments, gushing over the “cute” revelation. I forwarded the video to the hospital director. It wasn’t long before my wife called, her breathing ragged, her voice sharp and broken. “So I forgot your birthday! Is that any reason to run to the director with fabricated stories about me violating hospital policy?” “I’ve had enough of your irrational nonsense! This time, even if my own mother sides with you, I’m done! We’re getting a divorce—” She hung up before I could get a word in. But she didn’t know. Her mother wouldn’t be siding with me anymore. Because the patient who bled out on the table, the one whose post-op rescue failed because an intern was at the helm, was her mother. A doctor was standing in front of me, impatiently holding a death certificate for my signature. “We did everything we could. You can take the body once you’ve signed.” The gurney had already been wheeled out of the ER, yet this doctor just kept pushing the form at me, completely ignoring the flagrant violation of an intern performing surgery. A bitter, ironic smile touched my lips. “I refuse to sign. I’m requesting a medical malpractice investigation.” The doctor’s smile became strained. He tried to reason with me. “Dr. Collins, the department head, said the cause of death was post-operative complications. The surgery itself was fine.” I insisted. The doctor, left with no choice, finally relented. In the work group chat, the intern, Mark, tagged me. “@Dr. Grant, I’m so sorry. The caption on my video had a typo. I meant to write ‘Dr. Collins’ but my phone autocorrected it to ‘wife’. I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding.” Other colleagues quickly jumped to his defense. “It was just a typo! What’s the big deal?” “If my attending doctor had been as amazing as Dr. Collins when I was an intern, letting me get hands-on experience, I’d be showing off too.” “It’s just a normal mentor-mentee relationship. Why does Dr. Grant have to make it sound so sordid?” These were the same people I’d bailed out of trouble countless times. But the moment they sensed that my wife, Dr. Amelia Collins, the head of our department, favored the new intern, they didn’t hesitate to throw me under the bus to curry favor with him. And now, even knowing he had performed an unauthorized surgery, they were still lying through their teeth. I let out a cold laugh and typed back: “You know perfectly well whether it was a typo or not.” The moment I hit send, I was muted. The group administrator was, of course, my wife, Amelia. I closed my eyes, a profound bitterness welling up inside me. I left the hospital to gather the documents needed for the malpractice claim. As I was leaving, the circulating nurse from the surgery rushed to find me. “Dr. Grant! The patient Dr. Collins let Mark operate on… something’s happened!” I looked at her calmly. “And?” She couldn’t meet my eyes, her voice dropping to a whisper. “There might have been a problem with the surgery. The family is demanding a malpractice investigation.” She took a breath. “Dr. Collins is hoping you’ll take responsibility for it.” I thought I’d misheard. Amelia, in her reckless attempt to boost Mark’s career, had let him operate. Now that it had ended in disaster, she wanted me, her own husband, to be the scapegoat to protect herself and her pet intern. For him, she had forgotten her duty as a doctor, and now she was discarding me without a second thought. The most tragic part? She still had no idea who the patient was. My heart turned to ice. “No. She made this mess, she can clean it up.” I brushed past the nurse and walked away. A few moments later, a video call from Amelia popped up on my phone. Her face was contorted with rage. “How can you compare yourself to me? I’m the department head! You’re just a regular doctor. If you lose your job, you lose your job!” “Ethan, have a heart! Mark is just starting his career! You can’t ruin his entire life just because you’re being selfish!” Wasn’t I the one with a heart? The promotion to department head was originally mine, but I gave it to her. I had poured my heart and soul into our marriage, and this is what I got in return. The disappointment in my eyes must have registered, because her tone softened into an apology. “Honey, I didn’t mean that. I was just thinking about how hard it was for us when we were interns, all the crap we had to take. I just wanted to look out for him.” “Mark really wants to be a doctor. If you help him with this, I’ll take back what I said about the divorce…” Before she could finish, Mark’s face appeared in the frame. “Dr. Collins, I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself and stay in a failed marriage because of me.” A derisive smile twisted my lips. “That’s right. Being married to me must be such a hardship for you.” 2 “Such a hardship that everyone in the department is defending you and your precious intern.” “So let’s just get the divorce. Then you can have a marriage without any hardships with him.” My words struck a nerve. “Ethan Grant! Are you deaf? I told you, there’s nothing going on between me and Mark!” she shrieked. “I guess what everyone in the department says about you is true! You’re just a paranoid, accusatory asshole!” Mark gently stroked her back, his voice a soothing murmur. “Dr. Collins, as much as I want to be a doctor, I won’t let you get dragged into this. I’ll take full responsibility.” Amelia’s eyes filled with adoration and pain. “I’m your mentor. I’ll see this through to the end. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Her voice then shifted, becoming cold and commanding. “Ethan! You are going to the director and you are telling him that you were the lead surgeon on that case, and Mark was only there to observe. If you don’t, I’ll have the divorce papers signed and on your desk by tomorrow!” She hung up. I felt nothing. Not a ripple of emotion. In fact, I almost wanted to laugh. She had already signed a divorce agreement during our first major fight over Mark. All it needed was my signature to become legally binding. By the time I finished preparing the malpractice claim, the sun was rising. A colleague, one whose ass I had saved during a previous patient complaint, called me. “Dr. Grant, come on. It wasn’t easy for Mark to get this internship. You’ve helped us out so many times, what’s the big deal helping him out this once? Besides, helping him is helping Dr. Collins. You don’t want to see her get into trouble, do you?” I didn’t even bother to respond. I just hung up and blocked his number. Amelia, these spineless colleagues… I was done with all of them. I pulled the divorce agreement from my desk drawer and signed my name. Then I packed up all of Amelia’s belongings and had them couriered to Mark’s apartment. When I saw a photo of Amelia and her mother, my eyes stung with tears. My own family was a mess; I’d never known parental love. After we married, my mother-in-law treated me like her own son, filling a void I never thought could be filled. When she found out about Amelia and Mark, she had chewed Amelia out more than once, furious on my behalf. She deserved a long, happy life. Instead, she was gone because of a minor surgery. The next day, I walked into the department to find Mark sitting at my desk, a smug look on his face. “Dr. Grant. You’ve been suspended pending investigation. Dr. Collins has asked me to take over your duties.” I stared at him coldly. “You two are the ones who broke the rules. What does that have to do with me?” Mark just smiled and pulled up the surgical records on the computer. “Dr. Grant, according to this, you were the lead surgeon for yesterday’s operation. I was merely an observer.” I stared at the screen, a sense of absurdity washing over me. To frame me, Amelia had actually altered the official surgical log. I took a step forward, my face grim, and reached out. Mark cried out and staggered back, clutching his face. “Dr. Grant, why did you hit me?” Amelia, who had just arrived at the doorway, threw the cup of hot coffee she was holding directly at me. “Ethan! How dare you lay a hand on him!” she screamed. “Apologize to Mark now!” My colleagues, drawn by the commotion, stared at me in shock. The hot liquid scalded my left cheek, mixing with the blood trickling down from my forehead. The burning on my face was nothing compared to the searing pain in my heart. Amelia didn’t even seem to see my injuries. She fussed over Mark, who was completely unscathed. “So you screw up in surgery and you can’t even own up to it? The record says you were the lead surgeon! Stop trying to drag Mark into this!” How laughable. This was the woman I had once loved with all my heart. “Dr. Collins,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “if my skills are so poor, how exactly did you get your position as department head?” I’d hit her where it hurt. Her eyes blazed with fury. “Ethan Grant! You better back off while I still have some shred of affection left for you!” I laughed coldly. “Affection? Don’t you think it’s a little late to be talking about affection? I’ve already—” “Enough!” The hospital director, Daniel Zheng, strode into the office, his face a thundercloud. “What do you think you’re doing, causing a scene like this in a clinic? Want the patients to have a good laugh? It looks to me like none of you want your jobs anymore!” Fearing for their positions, my colleagues quickly scattered. 3 Daniel stared at Amelia and me in silence for a few moments before turning his fury on me. “Ethan, as the lead surgeon, your failure during an operation resulted in a patient’s death. You are suspended, effective immediately, pending a full investigation! After the investigation, you will be terminated. Whether or not you will face legal charges will be determined at that time.” I stared at the director in disbelief. He knew perfectly well who the real lead surgeon was that night. Before I could speak, Amelia and my colleagues all voiced their support for the hospital’s decision, some even adding that a reckless doctor like me should be thrown in jail. Mark, with the air of a victor, drove the final nail in. “This isn’t your clinic anymore. What are you still doing here?” Amelia didn’t stop him. Instead, she ripped my ID badge from my coat, threw it on the floor, and ground it under her heel. I took one last, long look at the woman I had given my heart to, and at the colleagues I had once considered friends. Numb, I turned and walked away. I didn’t leave the hospital right away. I went down to the morgue to see my mother-in-law one last time. To tell her I was sorry, and to promise her that I would not take the fall for Amelia and Mark. When I got home, the apartment was a disaster. The air was thick with a sickeningly sweet, unfamiliar scent. All of my belongings had been thrown into trash bags. The various awards and certificates I had earned over the years were scattered on the floor, covered in footprints. And from the bedroom, I could hear unmistakable sounds. Rage erupted in me. I kicked the bedroom door open. “Get out!” The two figures on the bed jumped, startled. Mark pulled Amelia into his arms and had the audacity to glare at me. “Don’t you know how to knock?” Amelia pulled the sheets up, her face flushed with unsatisfied desire, her eyes full of resentment. “I’ve already decided to divorce you. What are you doing back here?” I laughed, a harsh, grating sound. This was my apartment. Why the hell should I give it up for this disgusting pair? Mark had certainly wasted no time making himself at home. His clothes were already hanging in the closet. I ripped his clothes from the hangers and threw them out the door. “Don’t forget, I bought this place. If anyone’s leaving, it’s you two!” Amelia’s voice was a shrill shriek. “What do you mean, your place? This is our marital home, which means half of it is mine! If you were any kind of man, you’d just give it to me! And don’t you dare go crying to my mother about this! I’ve earned this after all the years I put up with you!” Fury pulsed through me. How dare she even mention her mother? My eyes were red as I squeezed the words through clenched teeth. “You still have no idea who died in that surgery, do you?” Amelia scoffed. “She’s dead. Why should I care who she was?” She gestured to the door. “Now get out, unless you want to watch me and Mark get back to it?” Mark leaned in and deliberately nibbled on Amelia’s ear, a mocking expression on his face. “Actually, I think Dr. Grant can’t bear to divorce you. That’s why he’s making up excuses to stay.” Amelia playfully slapped his chest. “Too late for regrets. Does he really think he’s irreplaceable? I’ve already thought it through. I’ll divorce him first, then tell my mom. By then, it’ll be too late for her to object.” Her arrogance was so perfectly, tragically ironic. “She won’t be objecting,” I said, my voice flat. “She won’t get the chance.” Amelia’s smirk widened. “So, my mom finally sees you for who you really are and isn’t on your side anymore? That’s fantastic. I always said, what kind of mother sides with an outsider over her own daughter?” I pulled the entire file from my briefcase—the hospital admission forms, the surgical consent, the code blue report, the declaration of death—and threw it in her face. “Amelia, your mother won’t be objecting because the person who died on that operating table… was her.”

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When the seventh goldfish floated belly-up, I sobbed and told my husband I was getting an abortion. After becoming pregnant, my mother-in-law suggested our five-year-old adopted daughter Holly stay with me. The day she arrived, my five-year-old goldfish died. For seven days straight, one fish died each day. Now I wanted Holly gone and was frantically grabbing my purse to flee to the clinic. “They’re just fish!” my mother-in-law shouted. “Holly saved your life! Why this scene?” My husband Jason fell to his knees. “We tried so long for this baby! You’ll abort it over fish? Are you insane?” But my voice trembled. “Seven fish are dead. The baby has to go!” Jason’s eyes turned bloodshot. “I won’t allow it! If you abort, I’ll have a child with another woman!” “Fine!” I cried. “I’ll even help raise it. But I must abort this child. The seventh fish is dead.” 1. The seventh goldfish was dead. The glass slipped from my numb fingers, shattering against the hardwood floor. Jason rushed out of the bedroom. He saw me staring, transfixed, at the fish tank, and his eyes landed on the latest floating corpse. His brow furrowed in a familiar pattern. “Another one?” His voice was a thin veil over a deep well of exhaustion and impatience. “Honey, stop looking. I’ll buy you some new ones tomorrow.” I twisted my head, my gaze locking onto our seven-year-old adopted daughter in the corner of the sofa. Holly. Three months ago, my mother-in-law and Jason had brought her home from a rural orphanage. A poor, pitiful thing. Right now, she was curled up in the plush cushions, her small body nearly swallowed by the sofa, her head bowed so low all I could see was the crown of her dark hair. A wave of profound unease washed over me. I snatched my phone, my fingers flying as I dialed the number for the city hospital’s OB-GYN clinic. “City Hospital? I need to schedule an abortion. As soon as possible. Today! Right now!” Jason lunged, trying to rip the phone from my hand. “Susan! What are you talking about, an abortion? Are you out of your mind?!” His voice was a cocktail of disbelief, rage, and raw panic. “That’s our baby! The baby we’ve been praying for for years!” “Not only am I getting rid of this baby,” I interrupted, my voice sharp and brittle despite my dazed expression, “but her, that adopted girl, has to get out of my house! Right now! Immediately!” Jason froze, staring at me as if for the first time. “Susan, you were the one who said you couldn’t conceive, the one who desperately wanted to adopt! You and Mom went to the orphanage yourselves and hand-picked her from dozens of children!” He took a breath, trying to calm himself. “I get it, you’re pregnant, your hormones are all over the place. I’ll go along with whatever you want. But now you want to send a helpless five-year-old girl back, and you want to personally destroy the child we fought so hard for? What the hell is wrong with you? Does pregnancy make you crazy?” My husband was a good man. From the day we met through our marriage and five agonizing years of trying for a baby, he had treated me like a queen. Anything I wanted, he would move heaven and earth to get. But this time, staring at that line of tiny, cold bodies in the tank, a monstrous fear had its claws clamped around my heart. I couldn’t compromise. I didn’t dare. “Look at them! Seven of my fish, the ones I’ve had for five years, are dead! The seventh one today! One a day, for seven days!” My voice rose to a hysterical pitch. “If I don’t get rid of this baby today, if I don’t get that curse out of my house, it will be too late… It will be too late!” The last few words were a sob-choked scream. Jason was utterly baffled, his face a mixture of absurdity and confusion. “You want an abortion and you want to abandon a child… all because seven goldfish died? Susan, get a grip!” He tried to approach me, his tone pleading. “Yes, it’s sad that fish you had for five years died. But we can buy more! We can buy ten, a hundred, whatever you want! Just don’t do something this impulsive!” “Enough!” My mother-in-law burst out of the kitchen, planting herself in front of Holly. She pointed a trembling finger at me, tears streaming down her face. “Susan, do you hear yourself?! They’re just fish! Animals! They die! How can you compare them to a person?!” “This child has had such a hard life! No parents, growing up in an orphanage, God only knows what she’s been through! You were the one who insisted we adopt her! After we brought her home, after we all grew to love her—she’s so well-behaved, so sweet—what has she ever done to you? How can you be so heartless?” I stared past my mother-in-law at Holly, and a chill shot up from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head. Every hair on my body stood on end. My mother-in-law grew more agitated, her voice thick with emotion. “When you were spotting and unstable, if it wasn’t for Holly being so quick-witted and running to the neighbors to call 911… there’s no telling if you would have even kept this baby!” “She’s your savior! She’s your baby’s savior! And now, because of a few dead fish, you’re going to do this to your own benefactor and your own flesh and blood? You’re committing a sin, Susan! You’ll be damned for this!” Jason immediately jumped in. “Mom’s right, Sue, think about it! That day you fainted in the living room, it was just you and Holly at home. If she hadn’t run and banged on the neighbor’s door for help… I can’t even imagine what would have happened! She cares about you so much, she loves this family, she’s trying so hard to fit in… She’s just a five-year-old kid. What could she have possibly done wrong? The fish died, maybe the water quality was bad, or the weather changed, or maybe it was just their time. It has nothing to do with our baby or with Holly, okay?” Listening to them, their words felt like a mockery of my terror. I used to adore Holly. Of all the children at the orphanage, my eyes landed on her first. So quiet, so gentle, with big eyes that held a hint of careful, heartbreaking eagerness to please. I was the one who brought her home, who raised her as my own. It was only after I got pregnant and we moved back to the city for my check-ups that she came to stay for her summer break. And the moment she arrived, my fish started dying. One after another, a gruesome, daily ritual. A precise, macabre countdown. Including today’s, a full seven. I couldn’t wait any longer. I couldn’t afford to. No one in this house believed me. Desperation and a frantic, encroaching madness swallowed the last of my reason. I spun around and bolted for the kitchen. Without a second of hesitation, I snatched the butcher knife from the block and pointed it at Holly on the sofa. “Get out! Now! Get out of my house!” “Susan! What are you doing?!” Jason’s face went white with terror as he lunged to grab the knife. I twisted my wrist, the razor-sharp tip now aimed directly at him. “Don’t make me, Jason! Her, and this thing in my belly! Neither of them can stay! They can’t! I’m going to the hospital now, and nobody is going to stop me!” “Susan! Put the knife down!” Jason’s face was a mask of horror. He threw himself at me, wrapping his arms around my waist and arms with all his strength, desperately trying to wrestle the weapon from my grip. My mother-in-law shrieked and fumbled for her phone. “She’s crazy! She’s completely lost her mind! I’m calling your parents! I’m calling the relatives! Let everyone come and see this! See what kind of mother you are, trying to kill our Holly, trying to kill your own child, over a few stupid fish! This is a sin! Somebody help!” 2. Under the dim, yellow light, the living room was in chaos. My parents and a few relatives who lived nearby arrived quickly. They walked in to a scene of pure madness: me, hair wild, held in a desperate bear hug from behind by my husband, a gleaming butcher knife still clutched in my hand. Amid the shocked stares, Holly acted as if nothing was wrong. She slipped away from my mother-in-law’s protection, expertly grabbed a stack of paper cups, and carefully filled a few with warm water. “Grandpa… Grandma, have some water.” That display—so thoughtful, so pitiful, so bravely composed after such a scare—instantly won the heart of every person in the room. My mother’s face hardened. “Susan! What is this? How many times have I told you, if you can’t have a child, you focus on your health. And if you adopt, you take that responsibility seriously! Holly is a wonderful, sweet girl. What more could you want from a five-year-old? And now you’re waving a knife around and threatening to get rid of the grandchild we’ve waited so long for… Have you completely lost your mind?” My father was pale with rage, his finger trembling as he pointed at me. “This is nonsense! Absolute nonsense! We are not letting you get away with this! Put the knife down now and apologize to Holly!” I looked at my parents’ faces and saw the same expression as on my husband’s and mother-in-law’s—the unshakeable conviction that I was being completely irrational. A tidal wave of despair and helplessness crashed over me. I stopped struggling, my voice turning to a wretched plea. “Please, you have to believe me. We’re running out of time. This is the seventh dead fish. The seventh! If I don’t go today, if we don’t send her away, it will be too late! It will be too late! Mom, Dad, please believe me! Just this once!” “Oh, Susan, what are you even saying?” an aunt muttered, her eyes full of pity for Holly. “Look at that poor, sweet child. You’re lucky to have her! Why can’t you appreciate that? Fish die, you buy new ones. Is it really worth all this drama?” “Susan.” An uncle who rarely spoke now chimed in, his face grim. “Listen to me. If you want to give up this child, that’s one thing. But you are not getting rid of a child of this family! And Jason would never stay with a woman who doesn’t even love her own baby!” His voice hardened. “Our family can’t handle that kind of scandal!” I snapped my head up, staring at him blankly. “What… what do you mean?” My uncle snorted, his voice firm. “It means if you insist on this abortion, we’ll have Jason divorce you! This family doesn’t want a cruel, heartless woman like you as a daughter-in-law!” “Divorce?” The word was a spark in the darkness of my despair. Yes! A divorce! If we divorced, the adoption would be void. Holly would no longer be my daughter! If she wouldn’t leave, I could! And the baby… once I was no longer Jason’s legal wife, I could make the decision myself! It was my only way out. The words tumbled from my lips before I could stop them. “Fine! I agree to a divorce!” The living room fell dead silent. All the shouting, the crying, the accusations—it all stopped as if someone had hit a pause button. Jason stared at me, his face a canvas of pure disbelief. “Susan, what did you just say?” “I said, I agree to a divorce.” I met his shattered gaze, my voice clear and steady. “We get a divorce. Right now. I’ll walk away with nothing, as long as it doesn’t stop me from getting the abortion.” “ARE YOU INSANE?!” Jason roared, the sound ripped from his chest, thick with an unbelievable pain. He stumbled forward, reaching for me, but I shrank away. “We’ve been married for seven years! Seven! We’ve been through so much! To have this child, how many hospitals did we visit, how much did we suffer, how many people did we beg?! After all that, after finally getting our miracle, you’re telling me you have to get rid of it? That you’re willing to end our marriage to destroy the symbol of our love? Tell me why! I might be able to understand, but don’t you dare tell me it’s because of a few dead fish!” I froze.

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I caught my husband cheating. In my best friend’s bed. And the man who’d supposedly been impotent for three years? He was anything but, tangled up with her in a sweaty, writhing mess. I raised my phone, capturing the whole sordid scene from every possible angle. Then, I bundled up the photos and sent them to her husband. With a little note attached: “Looks like your wife’s a miracle worker. She can even cure impotence.” 1 “Well, honey. You seem to have made a swift recovery.” I leaned against the doorframe, my voice light and breezy. The two figures on the bed froze, turning to stone. My husband, Louis, stared at me as if he’d seen a ghost, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. My dear best friend, Jane, was quicker on the uptake, snatching the duvet to cover her naked body. “Susan… We…” “Don’t rush to explain,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Let me get a picture first. This is the first time in our three years of marriage I’ve seen my husband looking so… vigorous.” Louis, jolted back to reality, lunged for my phone. The duvet fell away, and the sight nearly blinded me. “Whoa there, honey, take it easy,” I said, taking a step back. “What’s got you so worked up? It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” I paused, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “Oh, that’s right. I guess I haven’t seen it. After all, you’ve been saving yourself for my best friend for the past three years.” Jane’s face was crimson. “Susan, listen to me, it’s not what you think.” I smiled sweetly at her. “What’s there to explain? You sacrificed your own body to help cure my husband’s little problem. I should be thanking you.” My smile widened. “Why don’t you two carry on? I’m just going to give your husband, Paul, a call. I’m sure he’d love to see his wife’s spectacular performance.” Jane’s face went bone-white. You see, Jane was married to Louis’s older brother. She was my sister-in-law. And my best friend. What a goddamn tangled web. “You wouldn’t dare!” Louis roared. I arched an eyebrow. “You dared to do it. Why wouldn’t I dare to talk about it?” Just then, Jane scrambled off the bed and threw herself at my feet, clutching my leg. “Susan, please, I’m begging you. Don’t tell Paul. I know I was wrong.” Looking down at the woman I grew up with, now disheveled and sobbing at my feet, I found the whole situation utterly absurd. “Jane, get up,” I said, patting her shoulder. “The floor is cold.” She looked up at me, a flicker of hope in her tear-filled eyes. I continued, my voice dripping with false concern, “You’ll make my husband worry if he sees you like this.” Then, I turned to leave. Louis grabbed my arm. “What are you doing? Are you trying to destroy this family?” My fists clenched, but my smile never wavered. The sheer audacity of that question. “I’m going to the doctor,” I chirped. “I need to get checked out. Find out why my husband can’t perform for me but turns into a stallion for someone else.” Louis’s face was a furious shade of red. “Susan, stop being so damn sarcastic!” “Don’t get so emotional,” I said, holding up my phone. “Want to see the pictures I took? The composition is great, the lighting is perfect. I bet they’d go viral if I posted them.” Jane lunged for the phone, but I sidestepped her easily. “Oh, and I’ll need a caption,” I mused aloud. “How about, ‘Sweet Moments with My Husband and My Best Friend’?” “You—!” Jane trembled with rage. Just then, my phone rang. Speak of the devil. It was Paul. I put him on speaker. “Hello, Paul.” “I’m downstairs. What’s the apartment number?” Paul’s deep voice resonated from the phone. Jane’s eyes widened in terror, and her body began to tremble uncontrollably. Footsteps echoed from the hallway, growing closer. I settled back into a chair, feeling strangely calm as I pulled out my phone and switched it to video record. The door swung open. Paul stepped inside, his face a cold, unreadable mask. His gaze swept the room, lingering for a fraction of a second on the disheveled Jane before landing squarely on his floundering younger brother. “Paul…” Louis breathed, his voice shaking like a leaf in a storm. Paul didn’t speak. He just turned to me. “Are you recording?” I was momentarily taken aback, then a small, sly smile touched my lips. I gave a demure nod. “I am.” Jane collapsed onto the floor in a heap, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “Honey, it’s not what it looks like…” “Shut up.” The two words were spoken so quietly, yet they seemed to suck all the air out of the room. Jane’s throat constricted, and she fell silent. I sat there, watching the drama unfold, a strange sense of detachment washing over me. I was the one who had been betrayed. I should have been the one falling apart. Instead, I felt like an audience member at a particularly trashy play. “Both of you, get dressed,” Paul commanded, his voice like ice. I watched them scramble for their clothes, a hysterical laugh bubbling in my chest. Was this my life, or a scene from a bad soap opera? Once they were decent, Paul grabbed Louis and landed two hard, crackling punches, one after the other, right across his face. He followed it up with a vicious knee strike to Louis’s groin. I watched, grimly satisfied, as Louis crumpled, his face pale and his lips white. He’d pretended to be impotent for years; now, he might just get his wish. My brother-in-law, usually so calm and refined, was terrifying when he was angry. Only when Louis was on the floor did Paul speak again. “How long?” Silence. “I asked you, how long!” he roared, and even I flinched. Jane sobbed. “Th-three years…” Three years. The entire length of my marriage to Louis. So it had all been a lie. From the very beginning. The excuses, the evasions, the so-called health problems—all of it, a complete fabrication. My own voice, laced with bitter irony, cut through the tension. “So, it’s true love, then? You two were together even before we got married?” Louis kept his head down, refusing to look at me. “Look up! Look at us when we’re talking to you!” Paul bellowed. Louis slowly raised his head, his eyes swimming with fear. “Bro… I…” “Don’t call me that,” Paul snarled, his voice raw with fury. “I don’t have a scumbag for a brother.” Louis’s face turned ashen. Jane dropped to her knees again. “Honey, I’m so sorry… I truly know I was wrong…” I couldn’t resist twisting the knife. “Do you know you were wrong, or are you just scared you got caught?” If I hadn’t found out, who knows how long they would have kept playing us for fools. I stood up and faced Paul. “I’ve got all the evidence I need. Let’s go. This place is filthy.” Paul nodded and turned to leave. “Wait! Don’t go!” Louis pleaded, scrambling to his knees. I glanced back, my smile sickeningly sweet. “Why should we stay? To watch an encore performance?” I added, “Besides, isn’t this what you wanted? To be with my sister-in-law? We’re just making it official.” “No! Honey, we can’t get a divorce!” Jane shrieked. Paul was far more successful than Louis, and he’d never been anything but generous with her. The thought of losing that lifestyle was clearly more terrifying than losing his love. It seemed money still trumped passion in her book. “You’re always so busy with work… I was just lonely, I made a mistake! Forgive me this one time, I’ll cut him off completely, I swear!” she pleaded, her face a mess of tears. Paul didn’t even spare her a glance. “Impossible.” 2 “You shameless bitch! Get out here!” The shriek from the front desk echoed through the office first thing in the morning. I was sipping my coffee, and I nearly spit it out when my colleague, Kate, burst in to tell me Jane’s mother was raising hell in the lobby. The plot, it seemed, was thickening with cheap drama. “Susan Miller, you homewrecking fox! You seduce my son-in-law, you destroy my daughter’s family! Have you no shame?” Jane’s mother had a powerful set of lungs, and she was putting on quite the show for the gathering crowd. Kate whispered frantically, “Susan, Jane’s mom is downstairs making a scene, telling everyone you seduced her son-in-law…” I slowly set down my mug. “Oh? Well, I’d better go see this.” I strolled down to the lobby to find her in mid-performance, dabbing at her eyes while loudly recounting my supposed sins. “Everyone, you be the judge! This woman, she was jealous that my daughter married better than her, so she had to stick her nose in, deliberately ruining my daughter’s happy home!” I leaned against the reception desk, a faint smile on my face as I watched the spectacle. The young receptionist saw me and looked immensely relieved. “Mrs. Evans, Ms. Miller is here.” Jane’s mother spun around, and seeing my relaxed demeanor only fueled her rage. “Well, well! Look who dares to show her face!” “Who else would it be?” I arched an eyebrow. “Should I be hiding in a dark room just because someone else did something shameful?” Her face flushed with anger. “Don’t you dare twist the truth! My daughter and her husband were perfectly happy until you came along and destroyed everything!” I cut straight to the point. “I’m sorry, which son-in-law are we talking about? The older one, or the younger one?” She blinked, confused. “What older or younger one?” “Oh, you don’t know?” I feigned surprise. “Let me clear things up for you. Your daughter, Jane, is married to Paul Cole, your older son-in-law. But she’s been sleeping with Louis Cole, your younger son-in-law. So, I’m just a little confused. Which husband’s happiness are we discussing?” A collective gasp went through the crowd of onlookers. The color drained from Mrs. Evans’s face. “You… you’re lying!” I pulled out my phone. “Would you like to see the video? I have a recording of your daughter’s… stellar performance with the younger Mr. Cole.” Panic flashed in her eyes. “You… don’t you dare!” “If you really care about your daughter,” I said, my voice dropping to a serious tone, “you’ll go home and convince her to stop making a fool of herself. The divorce papers have already been filed. What’s the point of coming here to cause a scene?” “My daughter can’t get a divorce!” she insisted. I laughed. “Why not? Are you worried about losing the older son-in-law’s money, or do you just think the younger one isn’t good enough?” She stomped her foot in frustration, but realizing she had lost this battle, she turned and stormed out, defeated. My colleagues stared at me with newfound respect. Kate sidled up to me. “Susan, that was epic!” I just smiled. “Epic? We’re just getting started.” Back in my office, I sent a quick text to Paul. Your former mother-in-law just paid a visit to my office. He replied almost instantly: Do you need me to handle it? No need. Already handled. Good work. I stared at the screen, a wry smile on my face. Life, it turned out, was full of surprises.

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I had leukemia, but I was lucky. Both my father and my sister were a perfect match for a bone marrow transplant. My sister, ignoring everyone’s protests, insisted on terminating her five-month-old twin pregnancy to donate to me. “Dad’s too old,” she’d said. “His body can’t take it.” When my brother-in-law, working out of town, found out, he drove through the night to confront her. He never made it. A car crash left him sterile. Desperate and broken, he blamed me for everything. “It’s all your fault! I can never be a father now!” he screamed, before plunging a knife into me over and over again. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. My sister was holding me, her voice thick with emotion. “Don’t you worry, Phoebe. We’re sisters. I’m sure we’ll be a match.” 1 “Phoebe, don’t be scared. Your big sister will save you, even if it costs me my life.” Looking at my sister’s tear-swollen eyes and face etched with concern, I trembled with fear. The life she was willing to sacrifice was mine. The phantom terror of a dozen stab wounds made me shove her away instinctively. “No!” I screamed. She staggered back, and my father had to catch her to keep her from falling. He looked at me, hesitant. “Phoebe, I know you’re scared, but your sister is pregnant. You can’t…” The room full of relatives stared at me, their gazes branding me an ungrateful child. I didn’t have time to explain. The most important thing was to stop my sister from getting tested. “Hannah, you can’t do this!” I pleaded. “You have two babies inside you! Even if you are a match, I won’t take your marrow. It’s better not to even get tested.” My desperation was plain for all to see. They mistook it for selfless concern for my sister and her unborn children, murmuring about the depth of our bond. They began to try and persuade her on my behalf. “Hannah, your sister is right. You’re precious right now, too. Don’t be impulsive.” “Exactly! There are so many of us here. I’m sure someone will be a match. We don’t need you to do this.” “And you’re so close to your due date. Even if no one else is a match, we can wait until after you give birth.” I nodded frantically in agreement. But their words only seemed to strengthen her resolve. “Before Mom died, she made me promise to take care of Phoebe. Now that she’s sick, how can I, her older sister, hide behind everyone else?” “Don’t try to stop me. In my heart, my sister is the most important person in the world. It’s not just my children—if it meant my life, I’d give it willingly!” And with that, she marched out of the room to find the doctor. This time, my tears were real. “Hannah!” 2 The truth was, my dad was already a confirmed match. The doctors had said he was in excellent health and a perfect donor. So I truly couldn’t understand why Hannah was so insistent, to the point of sacrificing her own unborn children. Her love was overwhelming, moving even, but it was a weight I couldn’t bear. I didn’t want to die. There was only one person left who had the right to stop her: her husband, Marcus, the man who had killed me in my past life. Marcus had been transferred out of state for a year-long project. He had six months left before he was due back. Fighting back my terror, I called him and laid everything bare. “Marcus, I swear, I will never take Hannah’s marrow. But I can’t convince her. You have to come back!” He was there the next day. He pleaded with my sister, his voice gentle. “Honey, let me get tested. I’ll donate to Phoebe, okay?” Hannah just shook her head. “You’re not related to Phoebe by blood. The chances of a match are almost zero.” Despite this, Marcus went for the tests anyway. The results came back three days later. As expected, he wasn’t a match. But Hannah was. Marcus’s face was grim. “Hannah, I do not approve of this.” Her reaction was explosive. “Marcus, what are you saying? You want me to just stand by and watch my own sister die?” “I never said that!” he retorted. “But you have to think about our children! They’re already moving. In a few months, they’ll be born!” “After the babies are here, you can do whatever you want. I won’t stop you!” “But my sister has leukemia,” Hannah sobbed. “It’s not a common cold!” “What if her condition suddenly gets worse? Can you guarantee that won’t happen?” Marcus was speechless. How could he possibly guarantee something like that? His face darkened. “All I know is, I don’t agree.” Suddenly, Hannah snatched a fruit knife from the bedside table. “No one is going to stop me from saving my sister!” she shrieked. “Or I’ll kill them right now!” 3 Everyone froze. Marcus went pale with fright, practically falling to his knees. “Honey, please, don’t do anything rash!” he begged. “Then don’t force me!” Hannah screamed, pressing the knife against her own pregnant belly. The tip pierced her skin, and a bead of blood welled up. Gasps of horror filled the room. Watching my sister’s frantic state, I was stunned. A chilling doubt crept into my mind. Could anyone truly value their sister more than their own children? But I quickly pushed the thought away. Phoebe, you can doubt yourself, but you can’t doubt your sister. When I was born, Hannah was only three. But unlike most older siblings, she had adored me. She fought with the adults to take care of me. She learned how to mix my formula and change my diapers before she even knew how to dress herself properly. When we started school, she was the one who stood up for me, fighting boys bigger than her. She still has a two-inch scar on her arm from one of those fights. After our mother passed away, she became a mother to me. She gave me everything she could. She wore ten-dollar t-shirts from discount websites but bought me fifty-dollar dresses from department stores. Before she got married, she insisted on giving me all her savings, a decision that earned her endless grief from Marcus’s family. Tears welled in my eyes at the memories. Yes, I had died in the last life, but it wasn’t Hannah’s fault. She couldn’t have predicted that Marcus would lose his fertility in a car crash. The one who killed me was Marcus. The blame could never fall on her. She just loved me too much. She was willing to do anything to save me, even at the cost of her own children. In the last life, everyone’s ending was a tragedy. Since fate had given me a second chance, I swore to myself that I would change our destiny. Right now, I had to stop her before she did something irreversible. Seeing everyone’s attention fixed on Hannah, I quietly slipped over to the window, opened it, and climbed out onto the ledge. I straddled the sill, gripping the frame tightly to keep from falling. Then I shouted, “Hannah!” “I don’t want your marrow! If you don’t stop, I’ll jump right now!” To make my point, I shifted my body further out. We were on the twenty-first floor. The room erupted in pure panic. “I know you’re both good kids,” my father’s voice trembled. “Let’s just talk this through.” I ignored him, my eyes locked on my sister. “Hannah, promise me. Promise you won’t do anything to hurt yourself or the babies. Or I’ll jump.” “I mean it!” Finally, she dropped the knife. “Okay,” she sobbed. “I promise.” 4 The cut on Hannah’s stomach was superficial. The doctor disinfected it and put on a bandage. What followed was a thorough scolding. My dad apologized profusely to the doctor, bowing and promising up and down that he would watch us and it would never happen again. Seeing my dad so flustered, Hannah and I caught each other’s eye and couldn’t help but laugh. That just set the doctor off on another tirade, this time aimed at us. It was understandable. Hospital windows are usually sealed shut. But the one in my room was broken, discovered that morning during ventilation. The nurse had reported it and was told a maintenance worker was on their way. Who could have guessed that in that short window, someone would threaten to jump? Hannah and I quickly bowed our heads and admitted our fault. Once things calmed down, I was still worried. I pulled my dad aside to talk to Marcus. “Do you think Hannah might have prenatal depression?” I elaborated on my concerns. “She’s always been anxious about me, but never this… obsessive.” My dad was worried too. “You’re right. Hannah used to be so easygoing and reasonable. This isn’t like her at all.” Marcus considered it. “It’s possible,” he admitted. “She’s carrying twins, which is harder than a normal pregnancy. And with me being out of town, I can’t even be there for her. She has to go to all her checkups alone.” “Her morning sickness has been terrible, too. She can’t keep anything down.” The more he spoke, the more guilt-ridden he became. “It’s all my fault.” My dad and I felt a pang of guilt as well. With my illness, we hadn’t been paying enough attention to her. Marcus decided to take Hannah to see a psychiatrist. The diagnosis confirmed our suspicions: mild depression. While we were worried for her, a sense of relief washed over us. There was a reason for her behavior. She was sick. Marcus’s year-long assignment came with a promotion, but he contacted his company and arranged to be transferred back early. His career could wait. If something happened to his wife and children, he would regret it for the rest of his life. Hannah started seeing a therapist regularly, and after a while, her condition improved significantly. When the doctors recommended that my dad be the donor, her reaction was perfectly normal. She focused on how to best care for both of us and never mentioned donating her own marrow again. The transplant was scheduled for two weeks later. My dad began a strict regimen of early nights, balanced meals, and daily exercise to get his body in peak condition. I was moved into a sterile isolation room to begin pre-transplant chemotherapy. The side effects left me weak and unable to sleep well. One night, I woke up in the dead of night. The door to my room creaked open. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. My body was frozen, paralyzed. I could only watch in horror as a figure approached my bed, raised a knife high, and plunged it towards me. 5 I shot up in bed, gasping. The room was empty. I looked down at myself. My clothes were intact. I ran my hands over my body. No wounds, no blood. I let out a breath, telling myself it was just a dream. But I couldn’t fall back asleep. I lay awake until the first light of dawn, finally drifting off into a fitful slumber. The next day, I was on edge, a constant feeling of dread churning in my stomach. It wasn’t until visiting hours, when my dad came to see me, that it hit me. “Dad, where’s Hannah? Why didn’t she come?” He smiled. “She called. She has a prenatal checkup today, so she’s not coming. She’ll see you tomorrow.” I tried to suppress the unease rising in my chest. “Dad, Marcus isn’t here. Can you go check on her? I’m fine here.” He agreed immediately. After he left, I called Hannah, but the phone just rang and rang. The anxiety intensified. Fifteen minutes later, my dad called back. “Phoebe, I’m at the obstetrics department on the second floor. I don’t see your sister. She probably finished her checkup and went home.” My heart sank. “Dad, go to her apartment. I just called her, and she didn’t pick up.” “Maybe she just didn’t hear it. Don’t worry, I’ll try calling her again in a bit.” Seeing that he didn’t grasp the severity of the situation, I reminded him, “Dad, don’t forget. She has depression.” He immediately grew tense. It was just as I feared. He went to her apartment, but no one answered the door. A neighbor said they saw her leave early that morning. I contacted her friends, classmates, and colleagues. My dad went to every place she might have gone. But there was no sign of her. The dream from the night before came rushing back, and a chill went down my spine. “Dad, we have to tell Marcus.” “And… call the police.” The police, understanding that three lives were at stake, took the matter very seriously. They were efficient. Using surveillance footage, they quickly tracked her down. She had gone to another hospital in the city. And she had an appointment for an abortion. The procedure was scheduled for today. I froze. The question I had so desperately tried to suppress resurfaced with a vengeance. Did my sister really love me at all?

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A car crash erased my memory. In the haze, my sworn enemy Victoria Frost became my fiancée—her family’s choice, and my amnesiac self complied. On our wedding night, a young valet, humiliated by her family, jumped to his death. Victoria calmly returned to our suite, slipping back into my arms like nothing happened. Life with her was tranquil—until my birthday. I woke to shattered limbs, strapped to a chair. “Amnesia? Infiltrating my family? Humiliating Leo?” Victoria’s nails dug into my chin, her smile icy. “Thomas Logan, you sicken me.” Then the final blow: “Your parents just jumped from their office. The Logan Corporation is gone.” I died in agony, my corpse dumped on a mountain, soul denied peace. Then—I woke up. Back to the crash. The Frost matriarch smiled at my bedside. “Thomas, you and Victoria have always been destined…” I threw back the blanket, revealing the supermodel beside me—all legs and smoldering gaze. “Sorry,” I said lightly. “I’m already taken.” 1 “You! Have you no shame?!” The old woman trembled with rage at the sight of the beautiful model in my bed. She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I watched her go, my fingertips drumming a light rhythm on the edge of the bed. My first act upon rebirth was to have my assistant urgently arrange for a model to come to the hospital. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Logan,” the model had assured me with a wink. “I’ll make it look more real than the real thing.” The door was suddenly kicked open. Victoria Frost strode in, the meek-looking Leo trailing behind her. Her face was a thundercloud, her eyes sweeping over the model on the bed. “Thomas Logan,” she growled, her voice tight with fury, “what did you say to my mother to upset her like that?” She sneered. “Antagonizing me at every turn… you’re just desperate for my attention, aren’t you? Too bad. The only men I’m interested in are the ones who know their place.” I calmly met her gaze. “Who are you? I’m sorry, I was in a car accident. I don’t remember anything.” “Playing the amnesia card?” Victoria lunged forward, her hand clamping onto my chin. “Thomas, that’s a pathetic new low, even for you!” I used the same trick again. I flung back the covers. The model languidly propped herself up, flashing Victoria a provocative smile. Victoria’s pupils constricted. Her hand flew, striking my face with a sharp crack. “Filth!” “Miss Frost~” Leo immediately sidled up to her, his voice sickeningly sweet. “For Mr. Logan to be so brazen… if you two were actually married, can you imagine the scandals?” I slowly wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. “Who said I was going to marry you? You’re getting ahead of yourself.” “Playing hard to get?” Victoria seized my wrist. “All these years, you’ve done nothing but oppose me. It was all just to make me look at you, wasn’t it?” I wrenched my hand free. “I. Will. Not. Marry. You.” “Don’t act so high and mighty,” she scoffed, her fingertip tracing my collar with contempt. “Even if you were lying here naked and begging, I wouldn’t touch you. The men I like… are considerate and understanding.” Her gaze shifted to Leo, whose ears instantly turned red. I gave a lazy yawn. “Are you finished? I need to rest. The door is over there.” Victoria gritted her teeth. “Fine. Let’s see how long you can keep up this act. When you come crawling back to me on your knees, don’t expect me to show you any mercy!” SLAM! The door shuddered in its frame. The moment it closed, Leo glanced back, a triumphant smirk flashing across his face. 2 Once they were gone, I pulled a prepared envelope from the nightstand and handed it to the model. “Thank you for your trouble. Here’s a bonus.” As she took the money, she leaned in close, her perfume a subtle, alluring cloud. “Mr. Logan, if you ever need my services again… call me.” The door clicked shut behind her, and I let out a long breath. The sun streamed through the window. I greedily inhaled the sterile, antiseptic air—the scent of being alive. In my last life, in this very room, I had signed the marriage certificate in my amnesiac state. I had even willingly handed over all my shares in the Logan Corporation to Victoria. This time, I would not repeat my mistakes. My phone vibrated. I answered. “Thomas,” my mother’s voice was hesitant. “The Thorne family from Capital City paid us a visit today. They… they want to propose a marriage alliance. Would you be willing to reconsider?” I gripped the phone tightly. My mother had brought this up in my last life, too. I had rejected it on the spot. “I know all you can think about is that Frost girl,” she had said, “but you can’t force love, darling. I just want you to find someone better.” “Who said I like Victoria Frost?” I let out a light laugh. “Mom, our rivalry has always been about business. Nothing more.” On the other end of the line, my mother sounded surprised. “I agree to the alliance with the Thornes,” I said, my voice calm. “Their family has an impeccable reputation. They are the most suitable match.” “Really?” My mother’s voice was suddenly buoyant. “The Thorne heiress might be a bit cold, but she’s leagues better than that Frost girl! I have to go tell your father!” After hanging up, I stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. The Thornes were undoubtedly the better choice. They were not just an old-money dynasty with deep roots in the capital, but more importantly, I remembered clearly: in my past life, Thorne Industries was the only company that continued to support the Logan Corporation even under the immense pressure of a hostile takeover by the Frosts. A week later, I attended a high-end auction for my mother’s birthday. I’d barely walked in when I saw Victoria holding Leo’s hand, the two of them inseparable. Leo’s eyes fell on my custom-tailored suit, a flicker of envy flashing in their depths. “Interesting,” Victoria raised an eyebrow. “Following me now, Thomas? How pathetic.” “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s a coincidence.” I turned to leave, but she grabbed my wrist. “There’s a limit to playing hard to get,” she hissed. “You think this will get my attention?” I shook her off. “Miss Frost, you think far too highly of yourself.” Once the auction started, every item I showed interest in, Leo would immediately raise his paddle. Victoria took it even further, tripling the price on a particular antique vase. “Five million!” she declared, looking at me with open provocation. “Is Mr. Logan going to bid higher?” A murmur went through the crowd. The vase wasn’t worth half that. I gently set down my paddle, stood up, and left. My phone buzzed with a message. If you want to marry into the Frost family, you learn to heel. Right now, you’re not even fit to be my boy-toy. I stared at the screen for two seconds before permanently blocking the number. A few days later, I ran into her again at a luxury department store. Leo’s eyes lit up at the sight of a pair of leather shoes I was holding. Victoria immediately understood. “You want them, Leo? I’ll buy them for you.” The store clerk intervened. “Ma’am, I do apologize. This particular pair was a limited edition, custom-ordered by Mr. Logan three months ago. It’s the only one in the entire city…” “I said,” Victoria’s voice rose, her gaze sharp as daggers, “I want those shoes. Now.” I slapped my black card down on the counter. “First come, first served. Does Miss Frost not understand the most basic of rules?” Victoria yanked my wrist, her nails digging into my skin. “Thomas Logan, must you always oppose me?” she seethed. “The more you do this, the more pathetic you look. If you want to marry me, just say so. Stop with these childish games.” I pulled my hand back forcefully. “You really do think too highly of yourself.” I turned to the clerk. “Please wrap them up for me now.” The clerk timidly took my card. Victoria’s face turned impossibly dark. Seeing this, Leo quickly clung to her arm. “Victoria, let’s just go. I don’t want them anymore…” “No.” Victoria snatched the shoe box as the clerk was wrapping it. “In Cresthaven, there is nothing Victoria Frost can’t have!” With that, she dragged Leo away without a backward glance. 3 The next morning, an exquisitely wrapped gift box was sitting on my office desk. The moment I untied the ribbon, a strange, foul stench hit me. The black leather shoes were covered in suspicious, sticky stains, with clumps of hair stuck to the heel. My phone buzzed. A message from Leo popped up. Mr. Logan, I thought about it and couldn’t bear to take something you love. Here are the shoes back. Wore them dancing with Victoria last night, whoops! Got a little dirty~ Fighting back a wave of nausea, I threw the shoes in the trash. A message from my mother suddenly appeared. Thomas, the dowry list the Thornes sent over is absolutely staggering! I opened the file and sucked in a breath. The value of the assets listed could buy the Logan Corporation three times over. The Thornes, known for their low-profile, mysterious ways, had made an unprecedented show of sincerity for me. The rare treasures on the list alone were proof of how seriously they were taking this union. At Cresthaven’s annual business gala, I was chatting with a few friends when the main doors swung open. Leo walked in, dressed in a garish sequined suit with tacky diamond cufflinks. Whispers erupted around us. “My god, what is he wearing? So tasteless…” “Did you hear? He was originally a servant at the Frost estate. No idea how he wormed his way into being Miss Frost’s assistant.” “I’ve seen his type before. Ambitious and rotten to the core.” Leo’s expression didn’t change as he walked straight towards me. “Mr. Logan,” he said, raising his voice deliberately. “Those limited-edition shoes… why aren’t you wearing them?” I took a sip of my wine, my voice light. “Oh, something dirty touched them. I threw them out.” He was momentarily speechless, then sneered. “Just you wait, Mr. Logan. You’re no match for me.” Before the words were even out of his mouth, he threw himself backward with dramatic flair, crashing into a champagne tower. It collapsed with a deafening roar, sending glass shards flying everywhere. “Ah!” he screamed, and every eye in the room swiveled to us. Before I could react, Victoria rushed over and shoved me violently. I stumbled back, my hand landing on a pile of broken glass. Blood immediately welled up. “Thomas Logan!” Victoria cradled a trembling Leo, her eyes blazing with fury. “What did you do?” Leo leaned against her. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have shown my face in front of Mr. Logan and offended him.” He sobbed, “He said my background was beneath him…” “Apologize,” Victoria commanded coldly. I clenched my bleeding hand. “For what?” She suddenly reached out and ripped the jade pendant from my neck—the only thing I had left from my grandmother. “No!” I lunged for it. CRACK! She smashed it on the floor, and it shattered into a dozen pieces. “Next time,” she said, helping Leo to his feet and looking down at me, “it won’t be this simple.” My fists were clenched so tight my knuckles were white. For the next week, the entertainment news was filled with photos of Victoria taking Leo on lavish shopping sprees. I acted as if I didn’t see a thing. 4 I was working late in my office when the door was kicked open with brutal force. Before I could even look up, a cold hand clamped around my throat. Leo suddenly dropped to his knees, his voice thick with tears. “Mr. Logan, my parents are just ordinary workers! I’m begging you, please spare them!” He held up his phone. On the screen, a middle-aged couple, their faces bloody, were kowtowing to the camera. “Mr. Logan! Please, have mercy! Our son would never dare compete with you for Miss Frost!” Victoria snatched the phone, the rage in her eyes about to erupt into flames. “Thomas Logan! You’re a monster! You sent people to beat up Leo’s parents?” “I don’t even know them,” I said, looking coldly at Leo. “A fine performance.” “Still denying it?!” Victoria slammed the phone down in front of me. On the screen, the couple began slapping their own faces. “They’re begging you by name!” I took a deep breath and looked straight at Victoria. “I did not do this.” Leo scrambled forward, grabbing my wrist. “Mr. Logan, my parents are in the hospital right now! They’ve been honest people their whole lives, how could they possibly…” “Shut up!” I threw his hand off. “If you’re going to frame me, at least come up with a believable lie.” “You make me sick, Thomas,” Victoria’s face was ice. “If you want to marry me, you shouldn’t be doing such idiotic things.” “Take him!” Four bodyguards immediately surrounded me, twisting my arms behind my back. As they dragged me out, Leo’s soft sobs followed me. “Miss Frost, my parents, they…” I was forced onto the cold stone floor of the Frost family’s old chapel, my knees bruising with each impact. Victoria threw a share transfer agreement in my face. “Sign it. Transfer eighty percent of your personal shares to Leo.” “Go to hell,” I spat out the words. Leo feigned concern. “Miss Frost, Mr. Logan looks down on people like me… maybe we should just forget it…” Victoria shoved my head down. “You seemed pretty tough when you were beating up his parents, didn’t you?” She pried my fingers open and forced them onto an ink pad. “You’re signing this today, whether you want to or not!” I was locked in the chapel for three days. When the door finally opened, I thought I was free. But it was Leo who walked in, alone. “Miss Frost said you can go,” his voice echoed in the cavernous space. I weakly lifted my head and met his venomous gaze. He slowly untied my ropes, then suddenly shoved me to the ground. The pungent, acrid smell of gasoline filled my nostrils. “What are you doing?!” I stared at the flickering lighter in his hand, my voice trembling. He sneered. “It’s time for Mr. Logan to disappear, isn’t it? How about I make it quick for you? Save you the trouble of hanging around Miss Frost all day!” The moment the lighter fell, flames erupted with a roar. I let out a gut-wrenching scream, which alerted Victoria, who was standing outside. “What’s going on?!” she burst in, freezing at the sight of the inferno. Leo reacted instantly. “Miss Frost! Mr. Logan said if he can’t have you, he’ll destroy you! He threatened to burn down the entire Frost chapel!” Victoria’s roar filled the hall. “Put it out! What are you all standing there for?!” But the fire was growing, the heat distorting the very air. Just then, the main gates of the estate were smashed open by several armored vehicles, their engines roaring so loudly the ground shook. A woman in a flame-red coat stepped through the fire, flanked by two rows of heavily armed guards who instantly secured the entire courtyard. Her face was grim. “Where is Thomas Logan?” Victoria’s expression changed. “What are you doing here?” The woman didn’t even spare her a glance, charging directly into the inferno. Her team moved with chilling efficiency, bringing the blaze under control in moments. She carried me out of the flames. Blood soaked through her expensive coat, but she held me as if I were a priceless, fragile treasure.

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1 The night before our wedding, Grant dropped the bomb. “Harper, if we do this, you need to know: I’m child-free. Permanently.” He adjusted his cufflinks, not looking at me. “If you can accept that, we walk down the aisle. If not… leave now.” The words hit me like a physical blow, stripping the air from my lungs. But outside the heavy oak doors, the rehearsal dinner was in full swing. Champagne was flowing, toasts were being made, and the expectations of two dynasties were resting squarely on my shoulders. I was a bird already in the cage; the door had been locked long ago. How could I “leave now”? I chose to believe it was a sacrifice worth making for love. I swallowed my dreams and walked toward him. Five years later, on our anniversary, Grant rewrote the script. “Harper,” he said, swirling the scotch in his glass. “Let’s try IVF. Think of it as my anniversary gift to you.” 1. “Are you serious?” “Grant, you really want to have a baby with me?” I grabbed his hand, the instinct to touch him overwhelming my better judgment. Then, remembering his condition—his pathological aversion to touch, his obsessive need for sterility—I pulled back as if burned. My heart hammered against my ribs, waiting. “Of course,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “I’ve shortchanged you these past few years, Harper. A child… it would make this big, empty house feel less lonely for you.” The tension left my body in a rush. For five years, Grant had buried himself in his empire. The days he spent actually with me were rare, and our sprawling, minimalist home felt more like a museum than a sanctuary. God knows how badly I wanted a child. And now, finally, he was offering it. As for the IVF… I learned the hard way after the wedding that Grant’s version of “child-free” was inextricably linked to his neuroses. His germaphobia was severe. He couldn’t hold my hand without flinching. He couldn’t hug me. Sharing a bed? Impossible. We were husband and wife on paper, roommates in practice. If he hadn’t stepped in to save me when my fiancé and my own sister betrayed me five years ago, I would have questioned if he ever loved me at all. But a man who hates germs this much is willing to have a baby with me, I thought, letting hope bloom in my chest. He must love me. Lost in the fantasy, I didn’t notice him move until I was pulled into a warm embrace. I froze. Grant was holding me. For the first time in five years, he had broken his own rules. The anniversary, the baby, the hug—it was an avalanche of joy, burying my doubts. I raised my arms to hug him back, but he stepped away abruptly, a look of pained sympathy on his face. “Harper, you’ve suffered enough. I promise, I’m going to make it up to you.” Later, after I’d showered and lay alone in my room, his words played on a loop. It was everything I had ever wanted. So why did it feel so unsettling? Why did the sudden perfection feel like the calm before a storm? I couldn’t sleep. I got up to get a glass of water. As I passed the master suite, I heard the shower running. Through the crack in the door, Grant’s voice drifted out, cutting through the steam. It was laced with disgust. “If it weren’t to trick Harper into carrying the baby, do you think I would’ve touched her? I nearly vomited.” “God, I feel filthy. It doesn’t matter how much I scrub; I can still smell her on me.” My hand, resting on the door handle, slipped off. The anxiety I’d felt earlier wasn’t paranoia. It was intuition. I stood there, paralyzed, my mind screaming Grant is disgusted by me. I tried to force my breathing to steady. Then, I heard Bennett, his longtime personal assistant, speak up. He must have been in the dressing room. “Sir… physically, you didn’t seem to recoil when you held the Mrs. tonight. Is it possible… subconsciously, you’ve accepted her?” Bennett’s voice was tentative. Grant’s response was explosive. “Impossible!” “How could I ever love her? I only love Serena. If it weren’t for this damn phobia making it impossible to give her the life she deserves, I never would have married Harper. She’s just a placeholder.” A placeholder. Serena. My younger sister. The “Golden Child” who returned to the family fold a few years ago. The same sister my ex-fiancé had cheated on me with. Grant married me because he couldn’t be with Serena. He married me to clear the obstacles for her. If the victim of this twisted plot weren’t me, I might have applauded the sheer, tragic romance of it all. 2 2. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Grant issuing cold, clinical instructions to Bennett. “Keep an eye on her. Don’t let her suspect anything.” “Once the embryo created from Serena and me is ready, we take Harper to the clinic. We implant it. Serena is too fragile for pregnancy; she couldn’t handle the toll. As the older sister, it’s only right Harper carries the burden.” He paused, his voice turning dismissive. “She gets a child to call her ‘Mom’ out of the deal. She should consider herself lucky. It’s a bargain.” A bargain… Carry the child of the man I love and the sister who stole my life. And he thinks he’s doing me a favor. The happiness that had bloomed an hour ago withered instantly, turning into a cold, heavy stone in my stomach. Suddenly, footsteps approached the door. I scrambled back, my heart pounding, and dove into my bed just as the door creaked open. The mattress dipped. Grant sat on the edge. “Harper,” he whispered into the dark, “you’ll understand, won’t you?” A chill ran down my spine. For a second, I thought he knew I was awake. But he just sighed, tucked the duvet around my shoulders, and left. In the hallway, Bennett’s voice faded as they walked away. “Sir, you treat her so well otherwise… why hurt her for Serena? Legally, you and Harper are the unit. Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out…?” The rest was swallowed by the distance. I stared at the ceiling, tears leaking silently into the silk pillowcase. I replayed our entire courtship, every moment of kindness now tainted. Morning came too soon. Grant appeared with a tray. “Harper, I’m heading to the office. Eat something.” “Call Bennett if you need anything.” A glass of warm milk. A perfectly fried egg. Ever since I had a stomach ulcer years ago, Grant had made my breakfast every single morning. He never missed a day. I looked at his face—handsome, composed, caring—and tried to reconcile it with the monster from the night before. Two weeks later, at the clinic. Just as I was being prepped for egg retrieval—part of the charade—Grant suddenly grabbed my arm. “Harper, maybe we shouldn’t. The procedure… it’s painful. We can stop.” It sounded like love. But I knew better now. I remembered his words: ‘Once the embryo with Serena is ready…’ He wasn’t trying to save me pain. He was wavering on the logistics of his betrayal. If he could use me to carry a child without using my eggs, he would. “No,” I said, my voice steady. “I really want a child of my own.” Who the father is doesn’t matter anymore, I added silently. Grant looked moved. He squeezed my hand and walked me to the doors of the operating theater. “Don’t worry, Harper. I’ll be right here waiting for you.” I nodded. I looked at our joined hands. Since that hug, he touched me more often. Was he desensitizing himself? Was he beginning to see me? Or maybe… maybe he would change his mind. Maybe he wouldn’t destroy me for Serena after all. 3 3. The sharp pain of the procedure dragged me out of my spiraling thoughts. My mind went blank, focusing only on breathing. When it was over, I walked out on trembling legs, scanning the waiting room. Grant wasn’t there. Only Bennett stood by the wall, looking uncomfortable. “Where is he?” He promised he’d wait. The pain in my abdomen seemed to pulse sharper with the disappointment. My voice cracked. “Where is Grant?” Bennett looked panicked. “Mrs. Calloway… there was an emergency at the firm. The board… he had to rush back. He asked me to drive you home.” A perfect, corporate excuse. Unassailable. I sat on the sterile bench for a moment, gathering my strength, then nodded. “Let’s go.” We walked toward the exit. But near the VIP elevators, something made me turn my head. It was just a glimpse, a silhouette turning a corner, but I knew the set of those shoulders. I knew the cut of that suit. It was Grant. He hadn’t left. He was just on a different floor. With her. He had used a clumsy lie to erase his promise, turning my lingering hope into a punchline. I forced a bitter smile. “Okay, Bennett. Drive.” Bennett kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, checking for cracks in my armor. But I was exhausted. I closed my eyes and feigned sleep. I woke up in the dark. My phone screen lit up with a dozen notifications. Messages from Grant. And… messages from my mother. Mrs. Calloway. When Serena returned years ago, claiming her rightful spot as the favored daughter, the mother who raised me promised she wouldn’t play favorites. She lied. When Serena orchestrated little accidents and blamed me, my mother took her side every time, scolding me without asking for the truth. I learned to keep my distance. I moved out, rented my own place, and built a wall. I hadn’t heard from her in eight years. But today: ‘Come home for dinner.’ It was a trap. I knew it. But the debt of upbringing is a heavy chain. I drove through the snow. As soon as I entered the drawing room, I saw the last person I wanted to see. Serena. She was sitting by the fireplace, looking ethereal and delicate. She jumped up, smiling. “Harper! You’re back. Come sit.” I turned to leave immediately. “Kneel.” The voice from the top of the stairs stopped me cold. My mother descended slowly, like a judge approaching the bench. “Harper, is this how you repay me? Raising you was wasted effort.” “If your sister hadn’t convinced me to host this dinner, I wouldn’t even know you were married. Or that you’re planning to have a baby!” The baby. I did the math instantly. Serena was using Mom to pressure me. She wanted to establish a claim on the child before it was even conceived. She was so sure I’d carry it. “Serena certainly has her ways,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “I didn’t even know I was pregnant yet, but she does? Does she sleep under my bed?”

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Something was wrong. I was trying to be intimate with my boyfriend, but his reaction was… off. I was wearing the lace lingerie he’d been begging to see me in for months, but he hadn’t so much as touched me. The room was dark. I leaned in close, my breath warm against his ear. “Your surprise,” I whispered. “Do you like it?” His breathing hitched, becoming ragged. A thrill went through me. It was working. I looped my arms around his neck and kissed him more deeply. But just then, my boyfriend’s voice echoed from outside the room. “The lights are on, but nobody’s home?” I froze. A wave of ice and fire shot through my veins. If Leo was out there… then who was I holding right now? 1 In the pitch-black room, I scrambled off him, clutching the front of my lingerie to my chest. “Who are you?!” I hissed, my eyes wide with terror as I stared at the shadowy figure before me. A moment later, a low, cool voice answered. “Zane.” I froze at the name. He was Leo’s roommate. I’d seen him a few times when I’d come over to visit. My impression of him was that he was aloof and quiet, a man of few words who seemed to keep the world at arm’s length. We’d never exchanged more than a brief nod. The memory of what had just happened rushed back, and my face burned with shame. “What are you doing in Leo’s room?” I demanded. “Borrowing a charger.” His answer was simple, but my panic was anything but. I was standing here in next to nothing. A man and a woman, alone in a dark room. If Leo walked in now, there would be no explaining this away. In a desperate rush, I grabbed my discarded clothes and my phone and dove into the wardrobe. “Don’t let Leo see me. Please,” I begged in a small voice. Zane was silent for a two-count, then he walked over and closed the closet door for me. At that exact moment, the bedroom door swung open. Leo walked in and flipped on the lights, flooding the room with a brilliant glare. “Hey? Zane, what are you doing in my room?” Zane picked up a charger from the desk. “Came to borrow this.” “Oh,” Leo said, his tone casual. “By the way, have you seen Raina? She told me she was coming over.” “Haven’t seen her.” A nervous sweat broke out on my back. Today was our one-year anniversary. Before leaving work, I’d texted Leo telling him I had a surprise for him tonight. He was working late, which gave me plenty of time to come over and get ready. My plan had been to offer myself up as his present the moment he walked through the door. I never imagined it would turn into a disaster like this. “Something’s wrong with my computer. Can you come take a look?” Leo asked. “Sure.” After Zane led Leo out of the room, I scrambled out of the closet, threw on my clothes, grabbed my things, and slipped out of the apartment. 2 On the way home, I sent Leo a text. [Hey babe, I’m not feeling well, so I couldn’t make it over. Sorry. I’ll have to owe you your surprise.] He replied almost instantly: [Are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you want me to come over?] [No, it’s fine. I’m already in bed. You should get some rest too.] Right now, all I wanted was to be alone and calm my racing heart. [Okay. I’ll come see you in the morning then.] [Okay.] I put my phone down and breathed a sigh of relief. When I got home, I went straight to the bathroom and drew a hot bath. The warm water soothed my tense body, offering a moment of peace. But the fragmented images of the night kept replaying in my mind, unbidden. Zane hadn’t responded to me at all. Not when I held him, pressed myself against him, kissed him with everything I had. He hadn’t crossed a single line. Even when I’d taken his hand and… he’d done nothing more than let out a heavy, strained breath. But… given the difference in our sizes, he could have easily pushed me away. He was more than strong enough. But he hadn’t moved. He had simply let me do as I pleased. The thought made my heart race and a flush spread through my body. Zane’s reaction… wasn’t it a little strange, too? Did he know it was me in the room at that moment? I quickly shut down that line of thought. I was the one who had made the mistake. It would be shameless to try and shift the blame onto him. He had been willing to cover for me, to lead Leo away. I should be grateful. 3 The next morning, Leo arrived with bags full of groceries. “How are you feeling? Any better?” he asked as I emerged from my room. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just a little tired yesterday.” “It’s getting late. Go get ready. I’ll make breakfast.” I nodded. By the time I came out of the bathroom, Leo was already busy in the kitchen. Leo and I worked at the same company. Our office romance had been going on for over a year, and he treated me like a queen. Whenever he had a day off, he would come over and cook for me. With him around, I barely had to lift a finger. He even took care of the laundry and cleaning. He planned elaborate dates for every holiday and always chose the perfect gifts. On the rare occasions we argued, he was always the first to apologize, never letting me shed a single tear. I’m a slow burn. It takes a lot for me to open up. So at first, I had approached our relationship with a ‘let’s just see how it goes’ attitude. But after a year, he had passed every test. That’s why I had decided last night that it was time to take our relationship to the next level. I just never expected it to go so spectacularly wrong. After he had prepared a lavish spread of my favorite dishes, he called me to the table. “All your favorites. Try them,” he said, his eyes full of expectation as he served me a bowl of rice. “Mmm,” I nodded, a warmth spreading through my chest. Even though last night was an accident, I still felt a pang of guilt toward him. Halfway through the meal, I couldn’t help but ask, “So your roommate, Zane… what’s he like?” “Zane?” Leo paused for a second. “He’s a good guy. Why?” “It’s just… whenever I see him, he seems so cold. I was just curious what he’s like when you two are hanging out.” “He’s a bit of a slow burn himself, and yeah, he can be a bit of an ice king. But he’s a good person underneath it all.” “Right.” “Is he single? Does he have a girlfriend?” “Never seen a woman come looking for him. He’s pretty much a lone wolf, so I’d guess he’s single. But a lot of girls at the office have crushes on him.” Zane worked at our company, too, though in a different department. He was incredibly handsome, so his popularity was something I’d heard whispers about. “Hey, why are you so curious about him all of a sudden?” Leo asked, taking a bite of food. “You haven’t fallen for him, have you?” he teased. It was a joke, but I immediately denied it. “No! Of course not!” Leo laughed. “I’m kidding. I know my girl only has eyes for me.” “You know it.” 4 On Monday, I ran into Zane in the elevator at work. The awkwardness of that night made me instinctively drop my gaze to the floor. But knowing we’d have to see each other often, I forced myself to look up and offer a small, tight-lipped smile. Zane, however, showed no reaction. He simply moved to stand beside me, his expression as cool and unreadable as ever. Fine. The awkwardness was all mine. A moment later, a wave of people crowded into the elevator, pushing Zane up against my back. He was so close I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, could smell his scent. It was a faint, clean, woody fragrance. I didn’t know the brand, but it was intoxicating. I had smelled it that night, too, a subtle hint in the darkness, but I had been too distracted to place it. Now, with his warm breath brushing the back of my neck, accompanied by that familiar scent, every detail of that night came rushing back. A deep blush crept up my neck and spread to the tips of my ears. Get a grip, Raina! I scolded myself internally. It was a mistake. It was over. Why was I still so fixated on it? Zane seemed to sense my discomfort and shifted slightly, creating a sliver of space between us. When a group of people got off, I could finally breathe again. As soon as the doors opened on my floor, I practically fled the elevator. I had just sat down at my desk when a message from Zane popped up on my screen. [Are you afraid of me?] I froze, unsure how to reply. We had each other’s contact info for work, but we’d barely ever messaged. Our last chat was two weeks ago, exchanging work files. Before I could formulate a response, another message came through. [You’re the one who took advantage of me. Why are you acting like I’m the one who’s going to eat you alive?] The blush I had just managed to suppress came roaring back, turning my face crimson. [That’s not it! You misunderstood!] [What happened that night was a total accident! I thought you were Leo! If you’re upset about it, I apologize again!] [Please, just forget about it, I’m begging you! We see each other all the time, and I don’t want it to be awkward.] [Can we just pretend nothing ever happened? Please!] I typed out my frantic reply, adding a series of pleading, crying emojis for good measure. After what felt like an eternity, he replied. [I was just teasing you.] [I haven’t given it a second thought. You shouldn’t either.] I calmed down and quickly replied with an “Okay.” 5 After that, everything went back to normal. Our company organized a team-building trip, a three-day getaway to a nearby resort town. A few hours later, we arrived. The beautiful scenery washed away the fatigue of the long drive. Everyone was in high spirits, taking photos and enjoying the fresh air. As evening approached, the admin staff organized a barbecue party. During the meal, Leo hovered around me, catering to my every need. Mia, a new intern from our department, was buzzing around him like a fly, acting overly familiar. But Leo mostly ignored her. After a while, Mia seemed to take the hint and drifted away. “Relax, babe. Mia’s just a kid. I see her as a little sister. You’re not actually jealous, are you?” Leo whispered to me after she left. He was good at reading my moods. He had noticed my silence when Mia was near. “No. But I’d appreciate it if you kept your distance from her in the future.” I was confident in Leo’s feelings for me, so even though I knew Mia had a crush on him, I hadn’t let it bother me too much. “Yes, ma’am.” 6 After the barbecue, we all headed back to the hotel to rest. We were booked in standard twin rooms. The resort was near the ocean, and the view was breathtaking. After a shower, I called Leo, hoping to go for a walk on the beach. But the call didn’t go through. I knew his room number, so I went to knock on his door. But the person who opened it was Zane. “Is Leo here?” “He went out.” “Where did he go?” “Don’t know.” Zane looked like he had just showered, a towel in his hand as he dried his hair. I didn’t want to bother him, so I just nodded and left. Leo’s phone still wasn’t picking up. I wondered where he could have gone so late at night. I soon had my answer. On my way back to my room, I ran into a hotel staff member who mentioned there was a performance by the pool in the backyard. I decided to check it out, but as I approached, I saw them. Behind a large pillar, Leo was holding a woman, kissing her with a desperate passion. It was Mia. My feet felt like they were encased in lead. “Leo, do you like me?” Mia’s voice drifted over. “Of course.” “More than Raina?” “She can’t compare to you. Kissing her is like kissing a block of wood. It does nothing for me.” Mia giggled at his words. “You were ignoring me in front of her earlier. I was so mad.” “Well, aren’t I making it up to you now?” They laughed together, their voices thick with intimacy. Mia snuggled into his chest. “What if she finds out about us?” “Don’t worry. She won’t.” “You’re that confident?” “She’s naive. And easy to fool.” “You’re such a bad boy.” “If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t like me.” With that, he kissed her again, oblivious to the world. I had always believed Leo was the best man in the world, a perfect, 100-point boyfriend. I thought he was the one person who would never betray me. But it was all a lie. Everything was a carefully constructed facade. Tears blurred my vision. I clenched my fists, ready to storm over there and confront them. But as I took a step forward, another idea took hold.

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I’d been Chris Blackwood’s secretary for three years when he got engaged. His fiancée demanded he fire all his female personal staff. My name was on the list. As compensation, he offered me a blind date. With his brother. “He’s richer than me, great in bed,” he’d said with a wink. “Just one catch—he has a kid. You don’t mind, do you?” I didn’t mind. After all, that child was mine. 1. Adrian Blackwood and I had a history. Chris didn’t know. If he did, he wouldn’t be so carelessly dangling this in front of me after working me like a dog for three years. I was twenty-two when I was with Adrian. Fresh out of college, clumsy and naive. I mistook him, the heir to a corporate empire doing a field inspection, for another down-on-their-luck applicant who’d just bombed a job interview. He looked the part. His bespoke suit was rumpled and streaked with dust. He was sitting on a curb, eating from a sad-looking takeout container, a thick stack of documents beside him. He looked completely defeated. I’d just been rejected for a position myself, and I was feeling emotional. I bought two hefty roast beef sandwiches, extra meat, and gave one to him. “Here,” I said. “Yours is all lettuce and dry meat. You need something that’ll stick to your ribs.” I sat a few feet away, feeling a wave of pity for him, and for myself. I imagined how miserable my life would be if I couldn’t find a job. Would I end up sitting on a street corner, relying on the kindness of strangers for a meal? I was so lost in my own self-pity that I missed the series of expressions that crossed Adrian’s face: shock, disbelief, and finally, a flicker of amusement. Over that one meal, we exchanged a few stories. And our names. It was the beginning of a beautiful mistake. I assumed his background was as ordinary as mine, and Adrian, for his own reasons, was more than happy to play the part of a regular guy. I started running into him everywhere. Each time, it felt like a coincidence. By the time he asked me out, I was convinced it was fate. The illusion shattered in a scene straight out of a cheesy romance novel. I was in a luxury department store on Fifth Avenue, picking out a Christmas gift for my boss’s most important client. And there was Adrian, casually dropping a fortune. He stood with one hand in his pocket, his posture relaxed, almost lazy, as he patiently advised a young woman on her selection. When she finally chose a purse, he let out a quiet sigh, waved a hand, and told the clerk to put it on his account. Just the night before, he’d been in my tiny rental apartment, whining about his demanding boss and begging me to rub his temples. I thought about it for a long time. Should I keep up the charade? Or should I confront him and demand compensation for the lie? In the end, I chose neither. I took the option that cost me the most. I called him out, and I asked for nothing. He wasn’t surprised. He admitted who he was, plain and simple. Then, he invited me to his home. His real home. The sprawling estate was worth more than I could earn if I started working in the Stone Age. In his study, I saw stacks of files. He was a responsible heir, it turned out. That day we first met, he had been inspecting a port—a key project for the Blackwood Corporation that had run into trouble. He had spent the entire sweltering summer day on the construction site with engineers, poring over blueprints and data, revising plans, and reallocating resources. The stack of papers I’d seen was the meeting minutes. No one had expected the company’s heir apparent to show up unannounced, so no special meals had been prepared. When lunchtime rolled around, he just grabbed his notes and a cheap lunchbox and sat on the curb to eat while he waited for his subordinates to report back. And then I showed up. I felt like such an idiot. How had I not noticed the price of his watch, or the impeccable cut of his suit? He asked me if we really had to break up. He said that for him, love was about interests, and it didn’t matter who it was with. I was twenty-four. Young enough to believe love couldn’t be built on deception. “It’s not the same,” I said. “We’re not the same.” I didn’t cry. I didn’t even say a proper goodbye. I just got in a cab and left, as calmly as if I’d just been laid off from another job. But fate had other plans. A month later, I understood the importance of money all too well. Because my period was late. I was pregnant. And my company had just gone through a massive round of layoffs, which included pregnant women. The boss had made it clear: pay them what we owe them and get those pregnant women out of here to raise their kids at home. He’d even threatened to stop hiring women altogether. Before I started showing, I rushed to my boss and swore my loyalty, promising the pregnancy wouldn’t affect my work on the project. Then I took three days off for an abortion. My boss was so pleased he held me up as a model employee. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a workhorse, not a person. My colleagues whispered behind my back, but I said nothing. I made the appointment. On the way to the clinic, my taxi was intercepted by a black car. It was Adrian’s security. Adrian was overseas. He took the first flight back, a six-hour journey. He wanted me to keep the child. The terms he offered were incredibly generous. I accepted. To avoid forming an attachment, I didn’t even look at her when she was born. Adrian took her away and named her Chloe. A name meaning “blooming.” I figured Adrian must love her. That meant I didn’t need to worry. I left the city and moved south. 2. But I couldn’t escape the Blackwoods after all. Adrian’s younger brother, Chris, was in charge of the company’s southern branch. I had been blasting my resume out everywhere. I don’t even remember applying for the secretary position under him. The interview process was a blur. One minute I was applying, the next I was inexplicably Chris’s executive secretary. My job involved managing his daily schedule, occasionally making coffee, and greeting important clients when his lead secretary was out. It was a mixed bag of tasks, but overall, it wasn’t too demanding, and the pay was excellent. With the money Adrian had given me, I’d already bought an apartment. This job was supposed to be my ticket to a stable, quiet life. But Chris’s fiancée shattered that dream. “Clara? Clara?” Chris tapped his desk. “It doesn’t take this long to think about it. Are you hesitating? You think you’re too good for him?” He was smiling, but his tone was sharp. I finished organizing his schedule and pushed the planner toward him. “You have a meeting from eleven to eleven-thirty. Lunch at noon with Mr. Lee Jr.; his family just had a new baby, so I’ve prepared a gift for you to take. Golf from two to four, but Mr. Kane invited you to go riding at the same time, so you’ll have to reschedule one. At five, you’re giving clients a tour of the R&D center and discussing the contract. Dinner is at The Manor; I’ve already ordered, mostly Cantonese. It’s ten-forty-three now. Mr. Lee mentioned a few executives wanted to brief you beforehand, so you can see them now.” I paused for a second before continuing. “As for the blind date with your brother… I think I’ll pass.” Chris leaned back in his executive chair, spinning it with the tip of his shoe. He stared at me for a long moment, a thoughtful look on his face. “Hmm,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “Clara, you look like you’re hiding something from me.” “Your brother and I know each other,” I said. To say we “dated” felt too strong. Our families and friends never knew. It wasn’t a real relationship. “Oh, you know each other?” He nodded, then abruptly stopped spinning. He squinted at me, and his voice became certain. “No, that’s not it. You were with my brother, weren’t you?” Even though I was used to the casual contempt of the wealthy, that phrase—”were with him”—still stung. “Yes,” I admitted. He immediately shot up from his chair, a wide grin on his face, and ushered me to the sofa. He eagerly poured me a cup of tea. “So! Tell me! Do you know who his daughter’s mother is? All of us, his friends, we’ve been trying to get it out of him for years, but he won’t crack.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “The guy hates kids. He must have really, really liked the woman to keep the child. You were with him, spill the tea. Who was his favorite?” Who was it? Was it the girl he’d been willing to go shopping with? Or was she just one of many? I pressed my lips together. “I don’t know who his favorite was. But it definitely wasn’t me.” Chris burst out laughing. “Wow, you sound bitter. I thought my brother was supposed to be generous.” “Maybe with other people. When I was with him, I lived in a rental.” Chris’s expression froze for a moment. He looked completely dumbfounded. “You lived where?” he repeated. “A rental? He let you live in a rental?” I offered a small, silent smile. “Well, it was my own rental. We didn’t live together.” “Holy crap. He didn’t even cover your rent? That’s just pathetic.” Chris smoothed his suit jacket and began to pace, shooting glances at me. “I never would have guessed, Clara. You’re a true romantic… A woman with your looks, he should have at least bought you a condo. Why didn’t you just leave him?” He was appraising me, putting a price tag on me. The old me would have torn him a new one. Now, I just adjusted my expression and played along. “I was young and foolish back then,” I said with a joking tone. “So, on that note, how about a little extra on my severance pay?” A knock sounded at the door. An assistant poked his head in. “Mr. Blackwood, the meeting is about to start.” Chris nodded and straightened his tie. I quickly moved to hold the door for him. He grabbed a folder and walked past me. “You’re not on the layoff list anymore. Get back to work.” 3. Damn. I was hoping to squeeze a little more out of the severance package. Now I’d have to resign on my own. Chris’s fiancée had become a notorious figure around the office. Rumor had it she was the granddaughter of some big shot in New York, with incredibly wealthy parents of her own. Her status was high, and so was her temper. The moment they got engaged, she demanded Chris fire all his close female subordinates. Chris had two lead secretaries, a man and a woman, who were his right and left hands. The female lead was too brilliant to let go, so Chris managed to save her. But the rest of us—the executive secretaries and personal assistants—weren’t so lucky. Even if I wasn’t fired, staying would be miserable. It would only be a matter of time before the new Mrs. Blackwood decided I was a threat. I went back to my desk. A few colleagues from other departments were in the secretarial pool getting documents stamped. When they saw me, their faces filled with pity. “Clara, when are you leaving? We should all get dinner.” I pulled out my chair and slumped over my desk. “The earliest would be next month. I have to go through the proper process.” “Process? You don’t have to wait if you’re being fired, do you?” “I’m resigning,” I said. “Mr. Blackwood isn’t firing me. Does anyone have a resignation letter template I can use?” Thank you for the opportunity… due to personal reasons… I have decided to resign. I hit send on the email, pushed my keyboard away, and took a deep breath. Chris’s careless words echoed in my mind. He must have really, really liked the woman to keep her child. I never knew what Adrian truly felt for me. During the time I worked in New York, I lived in a building that was the first stop for countless transplants trying to make it in the city. The place was a chaotic mix of people and things. It was there I was followed for the first time. And it was there someone tried to break into my apartment. I was a light sleeper that night. The vibration of my phone woke me. It was an alert from my security camera. Someone was lingering outside my door. The man on the screen was masked, wearing a hat and gloves. I couldn’t see his face, and his figure was hidden by bulky work clothes. The lock-picking was professional, swift. He even glanced back occasionally to whisper and laugh with a partner out of frame. I stood frozen in my living room for a few seconds before my survival instinct kicked in and I ran to the kitchen for a knife. I hid back in my bedroom, eyes glued to the monitor, and shakily dialed 911. Then, I called Adrian. His voice was husky with sleep. “What’s wrong?” “Someone’s picking my lock,” I whispered. There was a second of silence on the other end, then the rustle of him sitting up and throwing on clothes. He sounded wide awake now. “How many? Are they armed?” he asked, his voice calm and steady. “I only see two… I didn’t see a knife, but I don’t know.” “Don’t cry,” he soothed. “Lock yourself in your room.” Suddenly, the camera feed went black. The front door creaked open. Footsteps echoed in the living room, growing closer. The intruder started pushing on my bedroom door. I gripped the knife, wondering if I should charge out and strike first. Adrenaline made my legs tremble. I felt like the knife would slip from my sweaty palm. Then, a sudden cacophony erupted outside my door. Muffled thuds. Curses mixed with cries of pain. The sound of shattering glass and things crashing to the floor. “Adrian?” “I’m here.” His voice was strained, breathless. “Don’t come out yet. It’ll be over in a second.” I wiped the sweat from my brow, my body going limp with relief as I sat on the edge of the bed. Finally, a knock on the bedroom door. I pushed aside the heavy furniture I’d used to barricade it. The living room was a disaster zone. The two burglars were on the floor, barely conscious. One of Adrian’s men was dragging them out by their ankles like sacks of potatoes. Adrian wiped the blood from his knuckles and pulled me into his arms. His coat was cold from the night air, and the faint scent of tobacco from his clothes warmed against his skin. He held me tight, burying his face in my hair and pressing a kiss to my head. One of the men with him cleared his throat. “Adrian… what do you want us to do with them?” “Check their records. Make sure they get put away for a long time,” Adrian said, his voice flat as he stroked the back of my head. I buried my face in his shoulder, my voice muffled. “Are they your friends? Coming all the way out here this late… I should treat them to dinner sometime.” “It’s fine,” he said. “Go get some rest. I’m staying with you tonight.” The police arrived. Adrian lit a cigarette and coaxed me back into the bedroom. The low murmur of their conversation didn’t last long. Soon, he was climbing into bed, wrapping his arms around me from behind. I was still trembling. “You’re safe now,” he whispered. “It won’t happen again.” I turned and kissed him, a desperate, frantic kiss. Adrian froze for a moment. He was usually so direct in bed, all business as he unbuckled his belt and pressed me down. But that night, he was uncharacteristically gentle. He just took my hands and wrapped them around his neck, then rolled on top of me, returning my kiss with a deep, slow passion. The autumn wind howled outside, but his body was a furnace. As his hand cupped my cheek, for a fleeting moment, I truly felt loved. But chewing on old memories for too long just turns them into tasteless pulp. When I was sitting across from him in his mansion, discussing the terms of our separation, I couldn’t fool myself with that sliver of sweetness anymore. He loved me the way one loves a beautiful pet. He wouldn’t touch it himself, but he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else having it. That was all. The workday was over. It was Friday. My resignation email was sent. The earliest I’d hear back was Monday. I started clearing my desk, slowly erasing any trace of myself. I didn’t expect the call from Chris on Sunday night. The background noise suggested he’d just gotten off a plane. “Clara, your resignation letter. What are the ‘personal reasons’?” “Mr. Blackwood, I’m twenty-nine. It’s time for me to settle down.” He was silent for a few seconds. “This isn’t because you’re afraid I’ll try to set you up with my brother again, is it? Don’t overthink it.” “No,” I said. “I met someone suitable through a dating app. I was planning to leave around this time anyway.” “What’s his background?” “No background to speak of. He’s an associate professor at a university.” “I see. Alright. Work hard for the next thirty days, and I’ll give you a nice bonus. Consider it a wedding gift.” “Thank you, Mr. Blackwood.” “One more thing,” he said. “Pick out a few gifts for a little girl. You’re coming back to New York with me next Friday.” A little girl. I felt a pang in my chest. “…Of course, Mr. Blackwood.” 4. It was my first time inside the Blackwood family estate. The main hall was filled with laughter and conversation. Servants moved deftly, refilling tea and offering snacks. I followed behind Chris, carrying the gift boxes. Every eye in the room swiveled past Chris and landed on me. Chris’s fiancée, Tiffany, shot daggers at me. “And who is this?” she asked, her smile not reaching her eyes. Chris squeezed in next to his grandmother on the sofa. “Just my secretary,” he said nonchalantly. “I had her pick out some gifts for Chloe. She’s just here to drop them off.” The tension in the room eased slightly. I nodded politely to everyone and handed the gift boxes to a maid. “Well, Mr. Blackwood, I’ll be on my way.” He waved a dismissive hand. I was about to turn and leave when my eyes met a little girl’s on the staircase. She looked about five or six, dressed in a little burgundy plaid cape dress, hopping down the circular staircase. The man behind her watched her with lowered eyes. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, just a crisp shirt with sleeve garters, the cuffs rolled up to reveal strong, lean forearms. He gently held the collar of her dress with two fingers, steadying her. My heart gave a sudden, painful jolt. The girl stared at me, then suddenly bounded down the rest of the stairs and ran toward the living room. On the sofa, the old matriarch opened her arms with a wide smile. “My sweet Chloe, come to Grandma.” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. Chloe Blackwood. That was Chloe. I snapped my gaze away, forcing my expression back to neutral, and started to leave. But a small pair of arms wrapped tightly around my leg. A child’s hands are surprisingly warm. She felt like a heavy, soft weight clinging to me. She looked up, and with absolute certainty, she called out. “Mommy!”

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I am a Tasker. The System promised me that if I could win the heart of my target, I could bring my beloved back from the dead. And so, I poured every ounce of my soul into melting the cold heart of the villain, Damian Koepp. I didn’t care that he killed me ninety-nine times. On my one-hundredth attempt, Damian, in a bid to amuse his cherished Sarah, threw me to a sadist. “You can’t die anyway,” he’d said with a smirk. “Make Sarah laugh, and I might just do you the honor of marrying you.” What he didn’t know was that the System had a hidden rule. After one hundred attempts, successful or not, my love would be resurrected. And I would vanish from his world, without a trace. … 1 [Host has died 99 times. Hidden reward protocol initiated. Upon 100th death at the hands of the target, reward will be automatically dispatched: Resurrection of Jean White.] When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a cold floor, the large pools of my own blood already dried and blackened. I came to this world for one reason: to resurrect my love, Jean White, by completing the task set before me—winning the heart of Damian Koepp. I was an orphan. No one had ever loved me until Jean pulled me from the darkness. So when the System told me that conquering Damian’s heart was the key to bringing Jean back, I agreed without a moment’s hesitation. I gave Damian everything. I laid my heart bare for him, and even when he tortured me, I showed him nothing but unwavering devotion. Damian knew I was a Tasker. He knew I would be reborn after every death, so he used that knowledge to inflict every cruelty imaginable, showing me not a shred of mercy. For my ninety-ninth life, he dragged me to a fashion show for his beloved Sarah Vance. He gazed at her on the runway with a look of profound affection, all while humiliating me as if I were a dog at his feet. I simply sat there, silent and still, letting his words wash over me, refusing to leave his side. Halfway through the show, the ceiling suddenly gave way. A shower of glass rained down upon us. Without a thought, I threw myself on top of Damian, letting the shards pierce my back. But he shoved me off violently, scrambling to the side of Sarah, who was completely unharmed. The entire venue emptied out, but no one spared me a second glance. A piece of glass was lodged deep in my heart. I welcomed my ninety-ninth death. It was alright. After this rebirth, I only had to die one more time. Then, I could finally have Jean back. I had barely managed to pull myself to my feet when Damian’s call came through. “Are you awake yet?” he barked. “Sarah and I are at City Central Hospital. Make some broth and bring it over. Now.” His voice dripped with impatience, as if every word spoken to me was a chore. The fact that I had just died for him didn’t move him in the slightest. I struggled to my feet and drove home. Without even changing out of my filthy, blood-stained clothes, I started making the soup. Damian was always like this, demanding that any food I brought him be made by my own hands. If he found even the slightest flaw, he would throw the entire container, soup and all, in my face. During my sixty-seventh life, he’d scalded me so badly that a large scar marred my face. He didn’t care. In fact, he led the jeering. “What does it matter?” he’d sneered. “The next time you die, it’ll all reset anyway.” Carrying the thermos, I hurried to the hospital. I found Damian tenderly caring for Sarah as she lay in her bed. The moment he saw me, his brow furrowed in disgust. “You didn’t even change? What if you bring germs in here?” Sarah gently patted his hand, then offered me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Nina. Damian is just so worried about me.” She was pretending to defend me, but the mockery and contempt in her eyes were crystal clear. Damian snatched the thermos from me. He opened it, ladled out a spoonful of soup, blew on it, and carefully fed it to Sarah. She had barely swallowed when she began to cough violently. Damian panicked, patting her back frantically. After a few minutes, Sarah finally calmed down, her eyes misty as she glanced at the thermos. “I’m allergic to lemon.” I stood frozen, staring at her. I knew her dietary restrictions better than her private physician. But if she decided, in this very moment, that she was allergic to lemon, there was nothing I could do. Damian spun around, his face contorted in rage. He flung the scalding soup directly at my face. “Are you trying to kill her? What, you think if you get rid of Sarah, you can take her place?” The searing heat felt like it was peeling my skin off. I bit my lip, fighting back the agony, and slowly explained, “I’m sorry.” It didn’t matter what I said. Damian would never believe me. It was better this way. A quick death at his hands, and I could finally go home. Sarah watched my pathetic state with a triumphant smirk before melting back into a damsel in distress, tugging on Damian’s sleeve. “That’s enough, Damian. Nina didn’t mean it.” Damian shot me a cold, hard look. “Clean it up.” I knelt, my hands scraping against the broken glass on the floor, gathering the shards of the shattered thermos as if I couldn’t feel the pain. For some reason, Damian’s mood soured even further. He roughly yanked me to my feet. “Can’t you use a dustpan? Who are you putting on this pathetic act for?” He shoved me aside and called for a janitor. Seeing Damian standing next to me, Sarah’s brow tightened for a moment before she quickly changed the subject. “Oh, by the way, Damian, you haven’t told Nina about the dress for the exhibition, have you?” Damian glanced at me, then spoke slowly. “Sarah needs a custom hand-embroidered gown for next month’s gala. You’ll have it done in the next few days.” My embroidery skills were taught by a master artisan, refined and exquisite. But this kind of intricate work was incredibly time-consuming and strained the eyes. In my forty-sixth life, I had worked day and night on a piece for him, all because of an offhand comment he’d made. The exhaustion and eye strain had been so severe that I’d died in my sleep. When I was reborn, my vision had never fully recovered. The doctor had warned me to avoid such detailed work. Damian knew this. But he didn’t care. I looked at him, my gaze soft, my eyes filled with nothing but pure, absolute love. “Of course. I’ll do it.” Damian froze, seemingly caught off guard by the look in my eyes. He turned his head away awkwardly. “After you finish Sarah’s gown, I’ll take you abroad to see a specialist.” “It’s okay, Damian,” I said softly. “I’d do anything for you. You don’t need to feel guilty.” Damian stared into my genuine eyes, and for the first time, a flicker of something—perhaps emotion—stirred in his cold, merciless gaze. I, however, had no time to worry about whether he’d actually take me to a doctor. Once I left this world, none of it would matter. My eyes would be the least of my concerns. Damian’s lips parted as if to say more, but from the bed, Sarah let out a pained whimper, clutching her head. “Damian…” He instantly turned his full attention to her, completely forgetting I was even in the room. I had no interest in staying anyway. I returned to my apartment and immediately began working on Sarah’s gown. If I was lucky, I’d die from overexertion, just like last time. I couldn’t wait to see Jean. I had been away from him for far, far too long. 2 The embroidery demanded my complete focus; not a single stitch could be out of place. The design for Sarah’s gown was immensely complex, and I found myself working day and night, pushing myself to the brink. My eyes were a web of red veins from the strain, and a dull ache throbbed in my head. Suddenly, my vision blurred. The world swam before me, and I collapsed, completely missing the phone screen as it lit up with Damian’s name. In the depths of my unconsciousness, I felt a large hand gently touch my forehead. I thought I had died, that I had finally returned to my own world. My eyes flew open, and I cried out Jean’s name in a rush of joy. “Jean!” But the eyes I met were not his. They were Damian’s, narrowed with suspicion and a dangerous glint. “Jean,” he repeated, his voice low. “Who is Jean?” His grip on my wrist tightened, his voice dropping an octave. “Who. Is. Jean?” My mind raced. I had to think of something. “He’s just… a minor celebrity I used to have a crush on,” I lied, the words feeling clumsy on my tongue. “I was just dreaming about him.” It was a pathetic excuse, but after a few seconds of tense silence, Damian seemed to accept it. After all, my love for him was absolute. I had willingly died for him ninety-nine times. How could I possibly have someone else hidden in my heart? “You certainly have time for fantasies,” he said, releasing my hand. His expression turned cold again. Just then, the sharp click of high heels echoed from the doorway. Sarah. Her face stiffened when she saw Damian and me together. “Nina, Damian told me you fainted while working on my dress. I came as soon as I heard. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” She lowered her eyes in a show of guilt, but Damian immediately jumped to her defense. “This has nothing to do with you,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery as he glanced at me. “Nina agreed to do it. She has to see it through.” He let out a cruel laugh. “After all, a worthless life like hers is meant to serve you. If I told her to die, she’d probably do it without a second thought.” His words struck me, but I felt nothing. On the outside, however, I had to feign a look of profound, repressed heartbreak. “Yes, Damian,” I whispered. “Whatever you ask, I will do. I came into this world for you.” Damian’s pupils constricted. He seemed flustered, unsettled. He grabbed Sarah’s arm and pulled her from the room, tossing a final command over his shoulder. “Just get the dress done. You don’t have to kill yourself over it.” That was new. Damian had never cared about my life before. I shook my head, clearing the thought. I had to die, and soon. And I had a feeling Sarah would be the one to give me the opportunity. She presented a flawless, angelic facade to the world, but beneath it, she was vicious and selfish. She claimed she and Damian were just like siblings, but she ruthlessly tormented anyone who got close to him. As I pushed myself up, I realized I wasn’t in my apartment. I was on Damian’s private yacht. I stepped out of the cabin for a walk and saw Damian and his friends hosting a party on the deck. I made my way to the bow, staring at the moon and letting the ache of longing for Jean wash over me. “There you are, Nina.” Sarah approached me, a wine glass in her hand and a sweet smile on her face. But her eyes were filled with malice. “It seems you’re getting better at this. Damian’s been so gentle with you lately,” she purred. “But it’s foolish to think you can steal him from me. Do you really believe he could ever love you? All I have to do is crook my little finger, and he’ll discard you without a second thought.” She slowly backed towards the railing, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Nina,” she whispered, “what do you think he would do if he knew you pushed me into the sea out of jealousy? Would he… tear you to pieces?” Before I could even react, Sarah let out a piercing scream and threw herself over the railing, plummeting into the dark water below. Damian was there in an instant. He dove into the sea without hesitation, pulling a sputtering Sarah from the waves. Crew members lowered a lifeboat, and soon both of them were back on deck. Sarah slowly came to, her face streaked with tears as she clutched Damian’s sleeve. “Damian, don’t blame Nina,” she sobbed. “She just… she just loves you so much… I can understand. It’s all my fault.” Her words hung in the air, and every eye on the deck turned to me. “I always thought Nina was just a pathetic sycophant, but it turns out she’s a vicious one too.” “How dare she push Sarah overboard? Everyone knows Sarah is the apple of Damian’s eye.” “Who the hell does Nina think she is?” The whispers turned to accusations. Damian’s gaze, dark and murderous, settled on me. It was a look I knew well. It was the look he always had right before he killed me. He gave a cold, sharp order. His men seized me and dragged me towards a three-meter-high glass tank on the deck. I can’t swim. I thrashed wildly as they threw me in. Damian stared at me as if I were already dead. “Who gave you the nerve to touch Sarah? It seems I’ve been too lenient with you lately.” The filthy water filled my nose and mouth. My survival instinct kicked in, and I fought my way toward the surface, but Damian ordered his men to keep adding more water. The people around the tank erupted in laughter, the sound a distorted roar in my ears. Then, I remembered. This was it. This was what I wanted. If I die, I can see Jean again. I stopped struggling. My body went limp and sank to the bottom of the tank. Seeing this, Damian must have thought I was putting on an act. “Nina, stop pretending! You think this will make me let you go?” I didn’t move. “Nina? Nina!” I remained motionless in the water. A note of panic entered his voice. “NINA! Drain the water! Drain it now!” 3 I dreamed a long, beautiful dream. A dream where the car crash never happened. Jean and I were married, happy. We had a child. A family of three, living through the seasons, together. I drifted back to consciousness, and the first thing I saw was Damian’s face, his eyes filled with a worry he was desperately trying to conceal. My heart sank with disappointment. So, I’m not dead yet. “What a clever little scheme, Nina,” Damian’s voice was laced with cold fury. “Push Sarah into the sea, then pretend to drown yourself. Were you trying to make me feel sorry for you?” “No, Damian,” I whispered, my voice weak. “I just… didn’t know what else to do.” My listless, broken state was, in his eyes, the ultimate proof of my love—a love so profound it left me unable to even defend myself. “Sarah is willing to forgive you,” he said, his tone shifting. “But on one condition. Her research team is conducting an experiment. They need someone to spend a day alone in a room with a… psychopath. Don’t worry, the security measures are top-notch. You’ll be perfectly safe.” Seeing my silence, he must have thought I was refusing. His brow furrowed with annoyance. “You hurt Sarah—” “I’ll do it, Damian,” I cut in, my voice soft. “For you, I’ll do anything.” From the first moment I met him, this was the mask I wore: a woman of infinite, gentle devotion, whose world revolved solely around him. Damian had never truly believed it, which was why he tested me, hurt me, again and again. And I just kept coming back, my only goal to prove my love. Unexpectedly, Damian reached out and gently touched my cheek. “I promise you,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “After this is over, I’ll marry you.” I lowered my head and nodded. “Okay.” I already knew how I was going to die. And this time, no one would be able to stop me. I was brought to the room that housed the madman. Outside, a team of monitors watched everything. I turned and gave Damian a small, reassuring smile before stepping inside without a shred of hesitation. For some reason, a sharp, painful knot twisted in Damian’s chest. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to stop me. But then he looked at Sarah’s hopeful eyes, and he steeled his heart. It’s fine, he told himself. It’ll be over soon. I’ll marry her. I’ll make it all up to her. After all this time, Damian had finally started to realize that a life with me might actually be… good. Inside the house, to avoid raising suspicion, I spent the first few hours deftly evading the psychopath. I led him on a chase, playing the part of the terrified victim. Finally, he cornered me in a small room. He raised an axe. I didn’t dodge. I didn’t even flinch. I simply smiled and walked toward the blade. Blood pooled on the floor.

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