My supposed brother sent me to Hell, little knowing I was once the consort to its princess. He discovered my secret—a life without end and a fortune without limit—and he wanted it for himself. He conspired with an occultist, a master of dark rites, to murder me in a ritual that would damn my soul and transfer my perfect fate to him. On the rooftop of a skyscraper, I begged for my life, my voice torn apart by sobs. “Please, don’t kill me! You can have all the money, all of it!” I was afraid of dying. Terrified. Because my ex-wife, the one who ruled the abyss below, had made a promise the last time I saw her. If she ever laid eyes on me again, she would have me flayed alive and boiled in oil. “Eddie, we’ve been brothers for ten years… I’ve always had your back, man. Please, let me go…” “I’ll give you everything, I swear! Just let me live!” I was on my knees on the gritty concrete of the rooftop, groveling without a shred of dignity, ready to smash my forehead against the ground if it would save me. Eddie sneered, hooking my chin with the needle-sharp point of his designer shoe. “I don’t just want your money, Ethan. I want your endless life, too.” “We’re best friends, aren’t we? What’s yours is mine. And since you care so much about me,” he said, his voice a venomous purr, “you’ll give it all to me.” With a flick of his eyes, he signaled the occultist in his dark, tattered robes. The man lunged, grabbing a fistful of my hair and dragging me toward the ledge. Thirty-three stories. Far below, a ritual circle glowed faintly on the asphalt, positioned precisely where I was meant to land. If I died on that spot, my soul would be ripped from the cycle of reincarnation, utterly annihilated. Eddie wouldn’t have to worry about a vengeful ghost. He’d planned this to be absolute. The wind howled around me, a bitter, hungry sound. I scrabbled at the concrete, trying to pull back, but Eddie’s greed, ignited by my secret, had become an inferno. He rushed forward, joining the occultist, and a single, brutal kick sent me plummeting into the night. The world dissolved into a rush of wind and screaming air. Then, a sickening thud echoed in the canyon of the street, and my body exploded into a ruin of flesh and bone. When consciousness returned, I was a disembodied soul, adrift in the gray twilight of the Underworld. Two spectral reapers stood over me, their hands gripping soul-forged chains thick as a man’s thumb. The other end was clamped tight around my neck. A dense, cold fog shrouded everything, but from the darkness ahead, I could hear the clear, unmistakable sounds of wailing and torment. I knew this place. It was the entrance to the Gates of Hell. I had my darling ex-wife to thank for the tour. When I’d tried to leave her all those years ago, she had dragged me here, her eyes burning with rage, to show me exactly what awaited those who crossed her. She hadn’t thrown me in then, but now, it seemed my time was up. This was it. The end. I thrashed against the chains. “I was murdered! It was a wrongful death! I’ve done nothing wrong!” My protest earned me a vicious crack from a barbed lash, wielded by a reaper with a thin, cruel mustache. The pain was unlike anything physical; it bit directly into my soul, and I collapsed, a silent scream trapped in my throat. “Listen up, pal,” the mustached reaper snarled. “Doesn’t matter who you were. You’re in our hands now, and that means you’re screwed.” Hell was a certainty, but a sliver of desperate hope remained. What if my ex still felt something? A chance at reincarnation was infinitely better than utter oblivion. “I know the daughter of your king,” I rasped, my voice trembling. “Lilith! I need to see her…” The two reapers exchanged a glance. Another lash cut across my back, this one so deep it nearly split my spectral form in two, silencing me completely. The mustached one spat on the ground beside me. “You think you’re worthy of speaking the Princess’s name? I don’t know how a piece of trash like you learned it, but you’d better keep your mouth shut if you don’t want more of this.” Helpless, I was dragged forward like a broken doll. The other reaper, who’d been watching, whispered nervously, “You think he’s telling the truth? What if we get in trouble…?” “What’s there to be afraid of?” the mustached one scoffed. “The occultist said this one’s off the books. He’s not in the Ledger of Souls. Some black magic scum who knows a few things he shouldn’t. Don’t be a coward. We’re getting paid for this, and there’s no record of him upstairs. Now hurry up before something goes wrong.” The pieces clicked into place. They were in on it. Corrupt reapers, bought and paid for by Eddie and his sorcerer. As the towering, obsidian Gates of Hell loomed out of the fog, a primal terror seized my very essence, and I began to tremble uncontrollably. A low groan echoed as the reapers used their power to force the gates open, and my heart sank into a bottomless pit of despair. Suddenly, a voice cut through the gloom, sharp and authoritative. “A new arrival? Has this one been through Judgment?” It was the Warden. He would recognize me! I stared desperately at the tall, cloaked figure emerging from the mist and managed a choked cry. “Warden—!” Before I could say more, a hand clamped over my mouth, and I was dragged behind a pillar of rock. The mustached reaper intercepted the Warden, a sycophantic grin plastered on his face. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Warden! Fancy seeing you out here. Here, try one of these. Fresh from the mortal realm. Got a real kick.” The Warden, his dark robes swirling around him, brushed a speck of dust from his sleeve, clearly annoyed. “Cut the crap. I asked you a question. Has that soul been judged?” The reaper swallowed, his bravado faltering. “Ye-yes, of course! We wouldn’t dare break protocol. You and the Matron are always so busy. You should take a break, relax. Have a smoke.” The Warden took the cigarette and lit it, falling silent. The fog was too thick for him to see me clearly. This was my only chance. I bit down, hard, on the hand covering my mouth. The reaper yelped in pain, his grip loosening. I scrambled towards the Warden, but a swift kick sent me sprawling. The reaper’s boot pressed down on my face, grinding it into the Stygian soil, filling my mouth with grit. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. But the commotion had caught the Warden’s attention. He took a few steps closer. “What’s going on over there?” The reaper, seeking revenge, pressed his boot down harder, threatening to crush my skull. “Nothing, Warden. Just a feisty one. Still struggling, even here. You know how it is. The ones who end up here are never the good ones. Don’t trouble yourself with this scum.” The Warden stopped. “Just be careful. These types are the worst of the worst. We can’t afford any mistakes. Get him inside.” I watched, my hope dying, as the Warden turned and vanished back into the mist. His duty done, the mustached reaper stalked over and vented his frustration, kicking me repeatedly before unleashing his barbed lash in a furious frenzy. My spectral form was soon a tattered mess of wounds, my features shredded beyond recognition. Finally sated, he grabbed my chin. “You little bastard. You almost screwed everything up. Don’t worry,” he sneered, “once you’re inside, I’ll take very good care of you.” I was a rag, a ghost of a ghost, tossed into the First Realm of Hell. This was the Realm of a Thousand Needles. As far as the eye could see, there were racks. On each, a translucent soul was impaled with thousands of shimmering needles, like some grotesque, screaming pincushion. Here, souls didn’t dissipate, they only suffered. The air was a symphony of endless agony. I drew a shuddering breath, using the last of my strength to force out a few broken words. “I… I really do know… Lilith. If she finds out what you did… she’ll never let you go…” It was a lie, mostly. Lilith couldn’t care less about my fate. She probably wanted me dead and gone. Why else would she have granted me an endless life, forcing me to wander the mortal world, never aging, never dying? She was terrified I might die and end up back here, an eyesore in her perfect, orderly kingdom. But now that we were past the gates, the reapers were no longer afraid. The mustached one patted my cheek, his smile a mask of pure malice. “Quite the imagination you’ve got. Been watching too many soap operas up there? You really think you’re worthy of our Princess?” My head lolled to the side. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I coughed up a gout of dark energy. My form flickered, growing more transparent. They strapped me to an empty rack. The reaper returned, grinning, with a handful of Agony Needles, each as long as my forearm. “You’d better hang in there,” he whispered. “There are seventeen more realms waiting for you after this. We’re going to have so much fun.” He raised a needle and plunged it straight into my thigh. “Down here, even the toughest souls learn to scream for me.” The point sank deep, and a pain so sharp, so absolute, shot through me. My entire being convulsed. “Aaaargh—!” Suddenly, a figure rushed in from the gloom. “Stop!” The needle was yanked out. Gasping, I forced my eyes open to see the newcomer. It was Marcus, the administrator of this realm. I remembered him. Back when Lilith had been trying to scare me, he had been the one to plead on my behalf. “My lady, the young master is simply naive. There is no need for such anger. Please, don’t harm him.” Hope, fragile and desperate, rekindled within me. I prayed that after all these years, he would still remember. “Marcus… it’s me… help me…” My voice was a shredded ruin, but I knew he heard me. He stared, his eyes wide with recognition, which quickly morphed into pure terror. He knew exactly who I was. But before I could even draw a breath of relief, his gaze flickered away. He straightened his robes, his face an emotionless mask. “A message from the powers that be,” he announced to the reapers. “They wish to witness this one’s final dissolution personally. Their party is on its way. You are to wait.” I was stunned. Marcus was in on it, too. Another one bought by Eddie and his occultist. My last ember of hope was extinguished. A bitter, broken laugh escaped my lips. Lilith, oh Lilith. This is the kingdom you rule? A den of thieves and conspirators, operating right under your nose. They’ve made a mockery of your justice. I hadn’t expected Eddie himself to come. Was he bold or just a coward? Bold enough to conspire against me, yet too cowardly to enjoy my fortune without seeing me erased from existence with his own two eyes. And now, he was bold enough to venture into the land of the dead itself. Soon, they arrived. Eddie and the occultist, their souls temporarily separated from their bodies. Eddie was terrified at first, clinging to the occultist like a frightened child. But seeing how friendly the old man was with the reapers, his courage returned. After all, he was the one with the money. He took a needle from the reaper’s hand and approached me, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Ethan. Thank you. Truly. If it weren’t for you, I’d never have known the joy of being rich. Money really does make the world—and the underworld—go ‘round.” He leaned in close. “You’ve lived long enough. I’ll take it from here. You can go in peace. It’s the only way I’ll ever have any.” I stared at him, my voice a dead rasp. “Was I not good to you?” The question was pointless. If he had a conscience, he wouldn’t have orchestrated this. Eddie laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Good to me? You think you were good to me? I was your shadow, your errand boy, wearing your hand-me-downs, always the supporting actor in the grand play of your life. You really call that being good to me?” I said nothing. You can’t reason with a viper you’ve warmed at your own hearth. I’d found him in a blizzard, shivering in a thin jacket. He was a kid from the countryside, broke and jobless. I didn’t need a butler, I was used to being alone, but I felt sorry for him. I gave him a job, but I treated him like a brother. He could have anything he asked for, and I paid him far more than anyone else would have. But over time, the lines blurred. He started to see my generosity not as kindness, but as his due. My indulgence bred his entitlement, until he believed he was my equal, and then, that he deserved to be me. My only mistake was trusting him with my secret. My silence only fueled his rage. “Nothing to say? You know it’s true, don’t you? You never saw me as a friend. Now, die!” He aimed the needle at my heart. He really, truly wanted me gone. The reapers shifted uncomfortably but did nothing to stop him. My essence was bleeding out of me, my form becoming ghostly, almost entirely transparent. My thoughts grew hazy. Eddie was still stabbing me, a frenzied assault, carving my face into an unrecognizable mask of wounds. Through the fog of pain, a vision appeared. It was Lilith, walking toward me. She was just as beautiful as I remembered, more stunning than any woman I had seen in my century of life. Her robes, the color of a starless midnight sky, were a symbol of absolute power. Her hair was a cascade of ink, her features so perfectly sculpted they could break a man’s heart with a single glance. Was it a hallucination? It had to be… She never wanted to see me again. So why were the reapers suddenly on their knees? “My lady! What brings you here in person?” Marcus was trembling so violently his whole body seemed to be vibrating, his face pale with dread. Accepting bribes from mortals was a capital offense. Allowing them entry into the Underworld was treason. He was caught red-handed. He was finished. The occultist’s face drained of color. He yanked a still-frenzied Eddie away from me, and they both fell to their knees. Lilith’s gaze swept over them, each glance a physical blow. Her Chamberlain, a man with a sharp, piercing voice, stepped forward. “Insolence! If the Princess had not come today, who knows how long you lot would have run this realm into the ground with your wretched corruption!” The two reapers who had brought me here pressed their faces to the floor, not daring to breathe. I tried to speak, but my mind was a swirling chaos, and the pain locked my jaw. Would she recognize me? And if she did, what then? Would she save me from this torment? Or would she simply finish the job herself, just as she’d promised? Even if she did nothing, I was almost gone anyway… After a long, suffocating silence, Lilith finally spoke, her voice like cracking ice. “Marcus. I entrusted this realm to your authority. Is this how you perform your duties?” His head hit the floor with a desperation that put my own pathetic begging to shame. “I was wrong, my lady, I was wrong! These reapers brought the mortals here! I knew nothing of it! I was just about to cast them out when you arrived!” The two reapers, seeing Marcus throw them to the wolves, were furious. “This is your domain!” the mustached one shot back. “Their presence is your failure! How dare you blame us!” “You were the ones who established the connection to the living!” Marcus shrieked. “You dragged me into this!” So that was it. She hadn’t come for me. She was just cleaning house. I was just a coincidence, a piece of evidence. I was an outsider watching a pack of dogs tear each other apart. Lilith let out a cold, contemptuous sigh. “Enough. The two mortals will not be returning. Detain them for judgment. As for you three,” she said, her voice dropping to a terrifying calm, “you are remanded to the Path of Beasts. You will never again know the grace of a human form, for all eternity.” The verdict fell like a guillotine. Marcus stared, dumbfounded, then collapsed into a sitting position, his face a mask of gray despair. The two reapers had the same broken look. Eddie, finally realizing he wasn’t going home, began to scream. “My mortal life isn’t over! Your Underworld has rules, doesn’t it?! You can’t just keep me here!” He couldn’t bear to lose the long life he had stolen, the vast fortune that was waiting for him. “I’m going back!” he shrieked, grabbing the terrified occultist. “Do something! I paid you a million dollars! Get me out of here! I said I’m going back NOW!” He didn’t know that nothing annoyed Lilith more than pointless noise. The next second, Eddie’s soul was flung through the air like a broken kite. He landed, by a stroke of perfect irony, on the table of torture instruments, his backside impaled on a cluster of Agony Needles. The searing pain he had inflicted on me was now his own. His face contorted, and he began to howl. The Chamberlain gestured, and other reapers swarmed forward, silencing Eddie and pinning him to the ground. With the trash disposed of, Lilith finally turned to me. I could feel her gaze, cold and heavy.

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Only when the men saw the village women and children slaughtered by raiders did they believe my warnings. Staring at the mutilated bodies, they erupted in rage. “Captain!” one shouted hoarsely. “You said Olivia was lying—that we should guard you and Sienna for her birthday! Now my son is dead! Where’s my wife?!” Miles turned deathly pale. I watched the bloodshed, tears falling. In my past life, when raiders attacked, my husband—the Island Guard Captain—took all the men to celebrate Sienna’s birthday. Pregnant, I crawled through storm drains to bring them back. But Sienna was killed by a stray raider. After hunting them down, Miles said nothing—until my childbirth. Then he brutalized me and threw me into the sea. “You,” he hissed, “lured the raiders out of jealousy. Since you wanted her fate, I’ll make sure you die like her.” When I woke again, I was back at the raid’s beginning. This time, if he wanted to protect her… let him. … Reborn, I watched the speedboats approach the shore, filled with marauders. A cold shiver ran through me, but I didn’t hesitate. I pulled the alarm. The blaring alarm sirens swiftly echoed across the entire island. But the island’s sole transport vessel, large enough to evacuate all the women and children, was gone. My closest friend stumbled towards me, her voice choked with tears. “Olivia, the raiders are attacking! Where are all the men? The ferry’s gone too. What are we going to do?!” Before I could answer, other women and children swarmed around me, their eyes, wide with helplessness and terror, fixed on me. As the only one who truly knew, I had to tell them. Miles had taken every man and every weapon, sailing the transport vessel out to international waters to celebrate Sienna’s birthday. My mother-in-law cursed wildly, enraged. “Has he gone mad?! He knows raiders could attack Havenport at any moment, and he dared to take every man?!” She spat Sienna’s name like venom. “That manipulative vixen! I always said she was no good! Always feigning weakness, luring men. And now look! Is she trying to get us all killed?!” Her breakdown triggered a switch, and the other women instantly erupted, screaming insults at Sienna for her shamelessness, for luring away their men. As they spoke, the marauders’ speedboats neared the shore, and panic intensified. I struggled to maintain control, telling everyone not to panic, to head for the shelter tunnels. Our island, isolated from the mainland, was frequently targeted by raiders. To protect ourselves, we had built a network of underground bunkers to withstand their assaults. The cramped shelter tunnels were packed with women and children, listening to the marauders’ cruel laughter echoing from above as they searched the island for women. A chilling wave of terror spread through everyone. To save everyone, the only option was to risk crawling through the storm drains that connected to the tunnels, then take a jet ski to get reinforcements. My mother-in-law grabbed my hand, her calloused hand slick with cold sweat. “Olivia, the safety of all the women and children rests on you. You must bring back help!” I managed a bitter smile, my face etched with reluctance. I told her I feared even if I went, Miles wouldn’t come back with me. At my words, a heavy silence fell over everyone. Ever since Miles rescued Sienna and brought her to the island three months ago, he had clung to her like a shadow. Under the guise of ‘caring for her,’ Miles was inseparable from her daily: fishing together, training together. Even the islanders whispered amongst themselves that he and Sienna seemed more like a couple. Yet, far from avoiding suspicion, Miles only grew more overtly intimate with her when faced with their teasing. I had argued with him countless times over this, demanding to know who his wife truly was. But he remained indifferent, instead accusing me of being petty and jealous. Our love had long since evaporated with Sienna’s arrival. Just when everyone was at a loss, Lily, my sister-in-law, stepped forward. “Let me go. I know everyone in the Island Guard, and besides, Olivia’s pregnant. If anything happened to her, I wouldn’t know how to explain it to my brother.” With that, she eagerly plunged into the storm drain, crawling through the damp, filthy pipes to the outside. We huddled in the shelter tunnels, praying in our hearts not to be discovered. But then, a sharp-eyed raider spotted the entrance to the tunnels. “There’s an iron door here! I bet the women are all hiding inside!” “I knew it! How could an island this big not have a single woman?!” “I’ve been adrift at sea for half a year, dreaming of women! This time, I’m going to have my fill!” The thought of the women hidden inside spurred the raiders to frantically smash against the iron door. Listening to the frantic, booming crashes against the door, the women’s faces went ashen. Their hearts pounded with terror, and they could only pray for the men to return quickly and save them. About half an hour later, Lily, my sister-in-law, crawled back up from the storm drain, covered in grime. Seeing her, everyone immediately cheered, believing she had brought the men back. But to their dismay, Lily only began to wipe away her tears, her face etched with distress. “I’m sorry… they wouldn’t come back with me.” My mother-in-law frantically pressed her, “Why wouldn’t they come back? Their wives and children are in here!” At this, Lily’s tears flowed even faster. She bit her lip. “My brother said I was lying. He said there’s no way raiders would suddenly attack our fishing village… He even said Olivia and I conspired to trick him, and he slapped me.” Seeing the red mark on Lily’s face, everyone began to condemn Sienna as a manipulative vixen. They also cursed Miles for dereliction of duty, for abandoning everyone’s safety for the sake of one woman! Just then, a thunderous boom echoed! The raiders had begun using explosives! The iron door to the shelter tunnel could hold for another hour at most. I comforted the women, telling them that the nearest island, Stonewater Isle, was only twenty minutes away, and I could go there for reinforcements. My mother-in-law clutched my arm, her calloused hand slick with cold sweat. “Olivia, the safety of all the women and children rests on you. You must bring back help!” I nodded, then, pushing past the nauseating stench, I crawled through the storm drain, my pregnant belly cumbersome, until I reached the surface. I mounted a spare jet ski and sped towards the nearest island, Stonewater Isle. When my jet ski hit the beach of Stonewater Isle, I found several armed men already waiting. Recognizing them, my eyes widened. It was Deputy Commander Ethan Reed of our Island Guard. Hadn’t he gone out to sea with Miles? Why was he here? I couldn’t dwell on it. I stumbled towards him, just as I was about to inform him about the raiders’ attack. He suddenly grabbed my arm, yanking me from the jet ski, his gaze filled with utter disgust. “Olivia Vance, how can there be a woman as repulsive as you in this world?!” I stared at him, bewildered, unable to comprehend his meaning. “The Captain specifically ordered me to wait for you here. He said that to stir up jealousy, you’d conspire with Lily to spread rumors on other islands about a raider attack on our village, all to sabotage Sienna’s birthday celebration.” Listening to Ethan, I began to tremble with rage. Miles’ heart was utterly ruthless! To prevent me from reaching him, he had sent men to block the very path I would take to get reinforcements! I urgently told Ethan that the marauders had already begun their assault on Havenport. I wasn’t here to spread rumors; I was here for help! If reinforcements weren’t found within the hour to repel the raiders, everyone would be lost! Perhaps seeing my unyielding expression, a flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. After all, his wife, child, and mother were all still on the island. Just as Ethan was about to contact Miles on his comms, a team member leaned in and whispered, “If there really was a raider attack, how could the Captain not know?” His face held a nearly devout trust in Miles. Miles had served in the military, possessing an exceptional tactical instinct and organizational skills. He had led the islanders in repelling dozens of raider assaults. After less than a second of silence, Ethan burst into loud laughter. “Olivia, you truly are an actress. You almost had me believing you.” “I know the Captain better than anyone. He’s so responsible, the leader of the Island Guard. How could he possibly lack this level of vigilance?” His mockery twisted my heart into a bitter knot, tears stinging my eyes. Every wasted moment meant more danger for the women. Ignoring everything, I tried to rush back towards the island. But in the next second, Ethan moved faster, pressing me down. He then produced rope and bound me tightly. “As long as I’m here, you’re not going anywhere today.” Ethan’s face was grim. After ensuring I was securely tied, he tossed me directly into a speedboat. As the boat sliced through the waves, I watched Stonewater Isle, so close yet growing smaller with every passing moment, and I closed my eyes in despair.

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My sister was dying in childbirth, and my father, a top obstetrician, was the only one who could save her. In my last life, I didn’t hesitate. I called him. After I begged and pleaded, he abandoned his honeymoon with my stepmother and flew back to perform the surgery. My sister, Kerry, was saved. But the good news came with a death sentence for my stepmother. Her depression, they said, had relapsed. She’d thrown herself into the ocean. She left a suicide note, a ten-page manifesto detailing a decade of alleged abuse at our hands. The honeymoon, she wrote, was her last reason to live, and we had destroyed it. My father read the note. He told us he didn’t blame us, his voice a dead, hollow thing. But on the day of my nephew’s one-month celebration, he poisoned everyone’s food. “If it weren’t for you two,” he’d whispered, his face a mask of grief-stricken rage, “Penny would still be alive.” “How could I have raised such venomous daughters? A hundred deaths wouldn’t be enough to atone for what you’ve done.” He held our heads in the toilet bowl until the world went black. I opened my eyes. I was back on the day my sister went into labor. … The first thing I did after being reborn was race to my sister’s house. I was still too late. The moment I pushed the door open, the coppery tang of blood hit me like a physical blow. Kerry was lying on the floor in a rapidly spreading pool of it. My newborn nephew lay in the slick redness beside her, the umbilical cord still attached. My hands shook as I dialed 911. I grabbed a blanket and wrapped the baby in it, trying to keep him warm. The ambulance arrived with screaming sirens, whisking us away to the hospital. Just as they wheeled Kerry and the baby into the emergency room, her husband, Mark, burst in. “Olivia! How is she?” His face was ashen. It was freezing outside, but he was wearing nothing but a dress shirt. He must have dropped everything and run. Before I could answer, a doctor emerged from the trauma bay. He told us Kerry’s condition was critical. She needed immediate surgery, and there were only two surgeons in the region capable of performing it: Dr. Cole Sterling at Metropolitan General, and Dr. Ellis Vance at the State University Hospital. Before Mark could even process the names, I jumped in. “We’ll go to State University. Doctor, please, arrange the transfer—” “Wait, why State?” Mark cut me off, his voice frantic. “Metropolitan General… Cole Sterling, that’s our dad! He’s been Kerry’s doctor this whole time. He knows her case inside and out. We have to go there.” “Dad’s on his honeymoon with Penny,” I said, my voice tight. “We shouldn’t bother them.” In my last life, a single phone call had brought him back. It had saved Kerry, but it had killed our stepmother. The memory of the foul, chemical-laced water flooding my throat was still fresh. I refused to die that way again. “Are you kidding me?” Mark stared at me in disbelief. “What’s more important, a honeymoon or your sister’s life?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled out his phone and dialed. It rang for a long, agonizing time before our father finally picked up, his voice thick with annoyance. “What is it?” Mark quickly explained the situation, his words tumbling over each other as he begged our father to come back. “Dad, Kerry’s in a bad way. A transfer would be too rough on her. Please, just come to this hospital. We’ll get everything ready for you.” Our father doted on Kerry, especially during her pregnancy. The slightest discomfort and he’d have her admitted for observation. Mark was certain he would drop everything and come. He was wrong. “Mark, who put you up to this? Was it Olivia?” Dad’s voice was cold steel. “I can’t believe you’d side with them in bullying Penny like this. I just examined Kerry this morning. Her vitals were perfect. There wasn’t the slightest indication of premature labor. Do you two feel no guilt, pulling a stunt like this just to ruin our trip?” He berated Mark for another thirty seconds before hanging up. Stunned, Mark frantically redialed, again and again. The phone was off. So was Penny’s. The ER doctor reappeared. “Have you made a decision? We’ve stabilized her for now, but we need to move.” With Dad’s phone off, our only option was the more distant State University Hospital. Mark was about to get in the ambulance with Kerry when a nurse rushed out. The baby was in distress and needed to be moved to the NICU immediately. A parent had to stay. His wife and newborn son both in critical condition, Mark looked like he was about to shatter. “Mark,” I said, putting a hand on his arm. “I’ll go with Kerry. You stay here with the baby.” His eyes reddened. He gripped my hand tightly. “Thank you, Liv. Please… just make sure she makes it.” I nodded, my own throat tight. Kerry was five years older than me. Our mother had died giving birth to me, leaving us to navigate the world without her. With Dad always busy at work, we had only ever had each other. She was the most important person in my life. Even so, seeing her on the gurney, ashen and unconscious, a fresh wave of tears streamed down my face. The entire way, I talked to her, a constant stream of prayers and memories, begging her to hold on. A police escort cleared the way, turning an hour-long drive into forty minutes. When we arrived, Dr. Vance was still in surgery. He’d told me to go to the ward and have the head nurse admit Kerry so she could be prepped. He would operate the second he was free. But when we got to the maternity ward, a nurse blocked our path. “There are no beds,” she said flatly. “But we called ahead,” I pleaded. “We spoke with Dr. Vance. He said to admit her.” The young nurse rolled her eyes. “Dr. Vance is a surgeon, he doesn’t know the situation on the floor. We’re completely full. I don’t care if you know the Chief of Staff, it wouldn’t make a bed appear out of thin air.” Tears of frustration pricked my eyes. I spotted an empty gurney in the hallway. “Can’t she just stay on this? We just need a place, any place. Please, miss, help us. My sister is bleeding out. Only Dr. Vance can save her.” The nurse glanced at the still form on the gurney, then shrugged. “I’m just a staff nurse. I can’t authorize an overflow bed. You’ll have to talk to the head nurse.” She gave a subtle nod toward the office down the hall. I understood. I rushed over and pushed the door open. The woman at the desk looked up, and I gasped in relief. “Helen!” It was Helen Croft, one of my mother’s oldest colleagues and dearest friends. After Mom died, she’d visited us often. Before she could speak, I grabbed her arm like a lifeline. “Helen, please, you have to help me get my sister admitted. She’s had a placental abruption, she’s hemorrhaging. She needs surgery now.” But the woman I remembered as being so kind and gentle looked at me with a cold, unfamiliar expression. She pulled her arm away. “Olivia, I can’t believe you’d bring this act all the way here. Take your sister and go home. Your father is a respected name in this hospital. This kind of stunt is humiliating for him.” Her words were a physical blow. My ears started ringing. “What are you talking about? My sister is really sick. If you don’t believe me, just come and look.” I tried to pull her toward the door. If she just saw Kerry, she would understand. “Olivia, I’m very busy. I don’t have time for your games.” She sighed, her tone shifting from irritation to stern disappointment. “Your father just called me. He said you and your sister were trying to sabotage his honeymoon. I know you don’t like your stepmother, but she’s raised you for ten years. It can’t have been easy. I heard she suffers from depression. You can’t bully her like this. A hospital is not a stage for your family drama. Take your sister and leave.” I felt myself starting to crumble. If my father were here, I would have screamed at him. I couldn’t believe he would be so cruel, so thorough—knowing we’d have to come here, he’d called ahead to poison the well. But this wasn’t the time for anger. “Helen, you’re mistaken. We’re not lying. My sister really is hemorrhaging. I’ve been in contact with Dr. Vance. If you don’t believe me, please, just call him.” Helen’s face was a mask of disappointment. “Olivia, this has gone too far. You’re dragging Dr. Vance into this now? Do you have any idea how important his current surgery is? What if your call distracts him? What if his hand slips? A young woman could lose her ability to ever have children because of your selfishness. Medical resources are not toys for you to play with. You should call Dr. Vance and apologize immediately.” The girl on her operating table was young, but so was my sister. And the ER doctor’s words echoed in my head: if Kerry wasn’t in surgery within two hours, she would die. Without a second thought, I dropped to my knees. “Helen, please,” I begged, the words catching in my throat. “I’m not lying. My sister is really dying. Please, just let her in.” I bowed my head and touched my forehead to the cold linoleum floor. Once. Twice. Helen was taken aback. Her harsh expression softened for a fraction of a second. She was about to say something, to maybe come and see for herself, when the office door burst open. A young nurse poked her head in. “Head Nurse, are we admitting that patient or not? They’re blocking the entrance, and now they’re arguing with another patient’s family.” Helen and I rushed out together. The paramedics who had brought Kerry were in a heated argument with another family whose path they’d blocked. Helen quickly intervened, calming the other family down and sending them back to their room. Then, she marched straight toward me. “Helen, please, can you admit her now?” I asked, hope flickering. She raised her hand and slapped me across the face. The sting was sharp and shocking. “What kind of actors did you hire?” she hissed. “They have no class, no consideration. Don’t they know this is a hospital full of sick people? Get these people out of here now, or I’m calling security.” My cheek burned. “How could you hit me?” “I’m your elder,” she snapped, her eyes blazing. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, causing such a scene? You were born, but you were never raised. You can tell you grew up without a mother.” No mother. I’d heard it my whole life, but it had never cut so deep. Did being motherless mean my words were worthless? Did it mean my sister didn’t deserve to be saved? I knew arguing was pointless. I wiped my tears away. “Fine. Fine, Helen. You won’t help us. But someone in this hospital will. I’m going to find the hospital director and ask him if he plans on letting my sister die in his hallway.” Seeing I was serious, Helen panicked. She had two nurses block my path. She turned and spoke into her walkie-talkie. “Security to Maternity. We have a disturbance. I need them removed immediately.” Security arrived in under three minutes. With a wave of Helen’s hand, they began to push us—me, the paramedics, and my dying sister on her gurney—toward the exit. I clung to the gurney, my sobs echoing down the hall. “You can’t do this! Isn’t this a hospital? Don’t you save lives? My sister is dying right in front of you and you won’t even look at her! How can you call yourselves angels of mercy?” My desperate cries drew a crowd of onlookers. Even the two young nurses looked shaken. “Head Nurse,” one of them ventured, “I don’t think they’re acting. The woman on the gurney… she hasn’t moved at all. She really looks like she’s unconscious.” “Her color is terrible,” the other added. “Maybe… maybe you should just take a quick look before we—” Helen hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. She took a step toward the gurney. Just then, her phone rang. She answered it. “Dr. Sterling? Yes, I’m here. Your daughters? Yes, they’re making quite a scene.” My heart sank. It was my father. The hallway was suddenly silent. His voice, tinny through the phone’s speaker, was audible to everyone. “They already caused a scene at the other hospital. All my colleagues are calling me, asking me to come back. Penny’s blood pressure is through the roof from the stress. I’m bringing her to your hospital now for a check-up. Get rid of them. I don’t want her to see them and get upset.” I finally snapped. “Cole Sterling, are you insane?” I shrieked. “Your daughter is dying! If you won’t save her, fine, but why are you stopping anyone else from helping? What if she dies right here?” His reply was a cold, dead laugh. “Then let her die. I don’t want daughters like you anyway.” He hung up. I heard someone in the crowd gasp. What kind of father says that? Helen’s face was a stony mask. She walked toward me. “Olivia, you heard him. Stop upsetting your father and your aunt. They’ve been through enough.” Just as she finished speaking, a woman in the crowd screamed. “Oh my God! So much blood!” Helen and I whipped our heads around. The white blanket covering my sister was now soaked in a deep, dark crimson. Blood was dripping from the gurney, flowing down its metal legs. A pool of it was forming on the linoleum floor.

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The live comments scrolling in my vision told me I was the cherished daughter in a perfect family story. That my parents and brother loved me more than anything. But in reality, Dad’s hand was quick to strike, Mom’s words were a constant barrage of insults, and my brother’s face was a permanent mask of cold indifference. Finally, after another round of their usual abuse, I was done. I would no longer listen to the comments. I would no longer be their perfect, obedient daughter. 1 I was so exhausted I forgot to feed my sister’s goldfish. Out of a whole tank, one of them died. My sister, Leslie, wouldn’t let it go. She demanded I replace it. I tried to soothe her, promising I’d buy her a new one as soon as I got paid from my part-time job. But her eyes blazed with fury as she shrieked, “Buy a new one? Bubbles had a life! You think you can just buy a new life?” “Bubbles” was the name she’d given the goldfish. I stood there, frozen and unsure what to do. Hearing the commotion, my father stormed toward me. His palm cracked against my cheek. My head swam, the world tilting for a moment. My mother’s voice was a sharp, endless drone of insults in my ear. “It’s Leslie’s birthday today! Not only did you not get her a gift, but you deliberately killed her precious Bubbles. Sara, how can you be so wicked?” “Bubbles was her companion for three years, her most treasured pet! You’re just angry we didn’t take you to that fancy restaurant, so you took it out on Bubbles, on all of us!” And the comments scrolling before my eyes were still sympathizing with them. [Look, you can see it, can’t you? Mr. Kripke, the ruthless business tycoon, his hand is trembling after hitting her!] [Oh my god, he loves her so much. Just touching her fills him with so much guilt.] [Right? And I’ve never seen Mom, the brilliant and gentle designer, look so disappointed! Her face is all flushed, it’s so cute! My heart is melting!] [Sara is being so difficult. Why does she have to provoke her loving parents like this?] I shook my head, trying to force the words out. I wasn’t being difficult. Cradling my stinging cheek, I tried to explain that after cleaning the entire house, I was just too tired. The fridge was empty, and I hadn’t eaten all day. I’d collapsed onto my bed and fallen asleep, completely forgetting about the fish. “I didn’t kill it on purpose…” But my brother Ethan’s cold voice cut through my explanation like a shard of ice. “Sara, stop it. You hate Leslie for taking the sixteen years of life that should have been yours, so you’ve been targeting her ever since you came back. Don’t think for a second that just because you’re my biological sister, I’ll take your side. You have no idea how much we love Leslie.” “You will take full responsibility for Bubbles’ death.” Tears finally spilled from my eyes, hot and heavy. The injustice felt like a physical weight in my chest, crushing me. I didn’t understand. If Leslie cherished that fish so much, why didn’t she feed it herself? Why hand the responsibility to me? There was a whole tank of them. I fed them every day, but I could never tell one from the other. How was Leslie so sure that the dead one was “Bubbles”? It was a fish. How was I supposed to take “full responsibility” for the death of a fish? Should I call the police to assess the damages? Ask a judge to sentence me to jail time? My father’s foot shot out and kicked the back of my knee. My legs, already weak from hunger and exhaustion, buckled. I crashed to the floor, my kneecaps screaming in protest against the hard tile. It felt like they might have shattered. “Apologize to Leslie right now! And get on your knees and beg for Bubbles’ forgiveness!” The order was given. My brother grabbed the back of my head and forced it down. Thump. Thump. Thump. Three hard knocks against the floor, and my dignity was buried along with that fish. I watched through a blur of tears as my parents wrapped Leslie in a comforting embrace, murmuring soft words to her. For me, there was only cold, merciless punishment. “You murdered Bubbles, so you will wear mourning for him. You will hold a vigil at his grave. Starting now, you will kneel in the garden by Bubbles’ tomb. You will not move. You will not eat, you will not drink, and you will not sleep, until the seven-day mourning period is over.” 2 It took Leslie ten minutes to carve “Tomb of Bubbles” onto a small wooden plank. Then, she buried “Bubbles” in the small garden. After she’d said a few words of remembrance, a light rain began to fall. She coughed twice, and my father immediately suggested she go back inside to avoid catching a chill. With a cloying sweetness and a look of “deep reluctance to leave Bubbles,” she said, “Mom, Dad, Ethan, you should all go inside too. Bubbles wouldn’t want you to get sick because of him.” One thoughtful sentence, and the frowns on their faces melted away. As for me, I tried to stand… But my hands and feet had been bound with rope to a nearby fence post. [Sigh, Mr. Kripke loves Sara so much, but she just keeps messing up! Always making her little sister cry.] [Mrs. Kripke keeps looking back. She must be worried about Sara getting wet in the rain.] [Ethan’s eyes are red, too. They’re only doing this to help Sara grow into a better person. My heart aches for them!] [Here it comes! Mr. Kripke is bringing out a burlap sack to keep the rain off Sara’s head!] [So thoughtful! How can a father be this good…] As that last comment scrolled by, a heavy, grimy sack was pulled over my head. Panic seized me. My world plunged into darkness, my nose filled with the acrid, chemical stench of fertilizer. “Dad, no, please! I’m allergic to fertilizer, don’t put this over my head…” I struggled, but my father’s foot slammed into my stomach. Pain exploded in my abdomen, and I doubled over, unable to breathe. His voice was a cold whisper by my ear. “If Leslie hadn’t reminded me, I would have forgotten that mourners must be properly attired. Don’t you dare take it off, or you’ll force my hand.” The chemical fumes from the sack flooded my lungs. I could feel my throat starting to swell, my nasal passages closing up. Breathing became a desperate, ragged effort. My skin erupted in painful, itching welts. I had to beg him. “Dad, please, I’m really allergic! Take it off! I’m going to die, I’m really going to die…” His only reply was a cold, dismissive snort. “You, who killed Leslie’s pet out of pure jealousy? If you die, you die. Don’t think for a second I’ll shed a tear for you.” My heart plummeted into a black abyss. And yet, the comments flashing before my eyes insisted… he loved me. [His eyes are all red. If Sara would just apologize properly, he’d forgive her in a heartbeat!] [Why is she so stubborn? He even remembered it’s her birthday today. He has a surprise for her.] [Mom and Ethan are watching from the window. They’re so worried their hearts are hurting. How can they love her this much! Come on, cherished daughter, pull yourself together! Apologize! There’s a cake and presents waiting for you inside!] Was it true? If I just apologized, would he take the sack off? If I just apologized, would Mom give me my presents? If I just apologized, would Ethan sing me “Happy Birthday”? “I’m sorry, Dad, I was wrong! I shouldn’t have forgotten to feed my sister’s goldfish. It’s all my fault. Please, forgive me. Please, Mom, Ethan… Leslie… forgive me…” I groveled on the wet ground like a dog, pleading with him. But my father’s voice seemed to crawl up from the depths of hell itself, terrifying and final. “You’re only realizing your mistake now? It’s too late.” “You stay here and reflect. Atone for your sins against Bubbles.” “And if you die… you deserve it.” I should have known. 3 I’d lost count of how many times the comments had deceived me. Every time my parents and brother lashed out, the comments would reassure me that they loved me fiercely. They just didn’t know how to express it, they’d say. I needed to be the mature one, the good girl who tried to please them. But every attempt I made to win their favor was met with them pushing me further and further away. The comments said Dad had a stressful job, that he’d made enemies, and that any stranger in the house—me—was a security risk. The comments said Mom was a design genius, her hands meant for creating, not for mundane chores. The comments said my brother was a legendary race car driver, a man of speed and adrenaline who shouldn’t be tied down by domestic duties. So, the housework fell to me and Leslie. But Leslie, coddled and pampered her whole life, was useless. She’d slip while mopping, burn herself while cooking, and scrape her delicate fingers raw while washing clothes. And every time, my parents and brother would rain their fury down on me. They’d blame me, the older sister, for not taking proper care of her. Slowly, I took over everything. Even then, they were never satisfied. Leslie’s pencil was dull? It was my fault for not sharpening it. My parents and brother threw away all my drawing pencils. Leslie woke up late and missed the school bus? My fault for not waking her. They grounded me for two months, forbidding me from going to school. Leslie spent all her allowance and had no money for a drink? My fault for being stingy and not buying her one. They confiscated all my money and forced me to get a part-time job to pay for my own school fees and living expenses. Everything was always my fault. My parents believed it. The comments believed it. And now, as I was suffocating inside a fertilizer sack, on the verge of death, the comments still believed it was my fault. [You’re the most pathetic ‘cherished daughter’ I’ve ever seen!] [Couldn’t you have just apologized earlier? You had to go and make your family lose face!] [They don’t even know how to get you back inside for your cake now!] [The cake will go bad if it’s not eaten today. I guess they can celebrate your birthday for you, through the glass.] [Ethan is singing ‘Happy Birthday’ so passionately! That deep voice is so sexy. He’s such a doting brother!] [The gift they got you is that art book you’ve always wanted. It’s on your bed right now.] [See? We told you they love you most. Next time, don’t make them angry, okay? Just be a good little cherished daughter!] Through the gaps in the burlap, I could see the warm, happy scene playing out behind the garden’s glass doors. My heart was a dead, cold thing in my chest. There wasn’t a flicker of feeling left. The cake was for Leslie. The presents were for Leslie. The birthday song was for Leslie. And that art book the comments mentioned… it was just an old one Leslie didn’t want anymore. It wasn’t just the comments that had been lying to me. I had been lying to myself. If they truly loved me, would they have treated me like a servant? Would they have ever laid a hand on me, or screamed such hateful words? Love and its absence are as clear as night and day. They didn’t love me. They never had. And in that moment, I made a vow. I would never listen to the comments again. I would never again be my parents’ and brother’s good little girl. If I can just survive these seven days…

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Charlie’s ex knew my morning sickness was crippling, yet insisted we watch lions hunt at night. When I refused, she burst into tears. “You’re so selfish,” Charlie snapped at me—then caught himself. “Get some rest,” he muttered, handing me warm milk. I woke up dangling over a lion pride. Charlie stood safely away, arm around Lila. “She cried because you ruined her fun,” he called. “So you’ll be the bait. Your blood should give her a good show.” The others watched from an armored jeep as lions circled below. Then my earpiece crackled. “Dad,” I whispered, “someone’s trying to kill me. Bring the unit. Let’s make them regret it.” 1 My words were met with a fresh wave of laughter from the vehicle. Lila called out, her voice laced with mock concern. “Aurora, darling, I think the fear’s gone to your head. Your father isn’t here!” Charlie pulled her closer, a dismissive sneer on his face. “Her father’s dead.” His words hit me like a physical blow. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. My father’s identity was a closely guarded secret. For years, only my mother and I knew the truth of his work. I had told Charlie countless times that my father wasn’t dead, just on a deep-cover assignment, unable to make contact. “My father is not dead, Charlie! Stop talking nonsense!” My defiance only seemed to irritate him. He frowned, his voice dripping with disgust. “Look at the state of you.” And what a state it was. I was dangling from the branch of a dead, withered tree, bloodstains still fresh on the inside of my thighs. Below, the pride, drawn by the scent, paced restlessly. My only saving grace was that they couldn’t climb. The African savanna at night was a world away from the blistering heat of the day. A cold wind whipped around me, and I shivered in my thin dress. The dead tree creaked and swayed with every gust. The lions below looked up, their eyes glowing with a feral excitement, as if their meal was about to be served. I tried to pull myself up, to shift my weight onto the branch, but it was no use. Seeing the lions circle beneath me, a triumphant smile spread across Lila’s face. Charlie took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, his voice impossibly gentle, as if he were cradling a priceless treasure. “It’s getting cold, Lila. Don’t catch a chill.” Watching him, so tender and protective, I saw a ghost of the man he used to be—the man who got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. I met Charlie at work. It was my support, my strategies, and my connections that had propelled him to the success he had now. The day he launched his company, he bought out every rose from every florist in the city to create the most spectacular proposal. “Aurora,” he’d said, his eyes shining with sincerity. “I owe everything to you. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you.” “Will you marry me? I swear I’ll cherish you, love you, and take care of you forever…” Until Lila reappeared, I believed every word. But after she returned, everything changed. He started coming home late, or not at all. A single phone call from her was enough to pull him away at any hour. “Lila just got back to the country, she doesn’t know anyone else,” he’d say. “I’m just helping out a friend.” He tested my boundaries, bit by bit, until he was blatantly favoring her right in front of my face. Looking back now, I realized what a fool I’d been. 2 A tidal wave of rage and sorrow crashed over me. The thought of the baby in my womb was the only thing that kept me from screaming. I looked at Charlie and softened my voice, forcing a plea. “The lions are here, just like you wanted. Can you let me down now?” A flicker of something—maybe hesitation—crossed his face. But in the next second, Lila gasped. “Charlie, my hand! It hurts. I think I scraped it.” And just like that, I was forgotten. The others in the vehicle took their cue from their boss. It was clear to everyone that Lila was now the priority. “I never liked Aurora anyway,” one of them muttered. “Always acting high and mighty just because she’s the boss’s wife. She’s nothing compared to Lila!” “Exactly! She’s such a hard-ass at work. A total corporate slave driver.” A chorus of complaints rose up, a litany of their grievances against me. They weren’t entirely wrong. I was demanding at work, but I demanded the most from myself. We were there to work and make money, not to slack off. After I got pregnant, Charlie had brought Lila into the company. She championed a “work-life balance” that was really just an excuse for laziness, and she led the charge in slacking off. I had asked Charlie to handle it more than once, but he always defended her. “That’s just her personality, Lila’s so full of life! Don’t you think the office feels more vibrant now?” The employees were certainly happier goofing off, but company profits plummeted. I was the one who, while pregnant, had to smooth things over with our partners and clients. If it wasn’t for me, they wouldn’t have even been able to afford this company retreat. After a moment, Charlie turned back to me, his voice cold and commanding. “Apologize to Lila, and I’ll let you down.” His words were a dagger to my heart. Forcing me to apologize to her was the same as grinding my pride into the dust. A stubborn, defiant thought flared in my mind. I would rather hang here and die than apologize to that woman. “You were the one who refused her first,” Charlie pressed, his voice rising in anger when I didn’t respond. “Is it so hard to say you’re sorry? Did you leave your manners at home?” I ignored him, looking down at the lions instead. The lead male, bored of waiting, was starting to look restless. Maybe, if I held out long enough, they would lose interest and wander off. A small sliver of hope returned. Just then, one of the employees pulled a bucket of raw meat from the back of the vehicle—props for tourists to toss to the animals, to enhance the “safari experience.” “Hey, why don’t we throw the meat at her?” someone suggested. “Make the lions jump up and scare her a little. That’ll be her punishment for not apologizing!” The speaker was Lila’s closest friend at the office, a woman who shared her love for gossip and her distaste for work. Charlie hesitated for a fraction of a second. Lila’s eyes reddened again, her voice a pathetic sob. “Charlie… the lions are leaving. Does this mean I won’t get to see them hunt…?” That was all it took. Charlie’s expression hardened. He looked up at me, his voice a low, chilling whisper. “I gave you a chance. If an apology is too much to ask, then you can accept the consequences.” My eyes widened in horror as I saw what he was holding. A gust of wind sent me swinging wildly. Then, the first chunk of meat flew through the air, landing just below me. The scent of blood sent the pride into a frenzy. One piece followed another. Lions began to leap into the air, snapping at the raw flesh. Sharp claws ripped through the hem of my dress, missing my calf by a hair’s breadth! I tried to curl into a ball, to make myself smaller, but it was useless. 3 A searing pain shot through my leg. Blood instantly blossomed across the fabric of my dress, a crimson stain that spread with terrifying speed. A deep gash had been torn open in my calf. The sight and smell of fresh blood drove the lions below into an even greater frenzy. The guttural roar of the beasts mixed with the howling wind, a symphony of terror that filled my ears. Seeing this, Lila actually stood up and began to applaud. “Thank you, Aurora, for such a spectacular show!” The others joined in, clapping and cheering as they continued to pelt me with chunks of meat. The viscous, cloying scent of pork and blood filled my nostrils. Blood continued to stream from my leg. As they threw the meat higher and higher, the lions leaped more ferociously. Several times, they reached my waist. If I had been their target, I would have been torn apart already. Many of the lions chewed on the meat while keeping their hungry, golden eyes fixed on me. I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that once the meat was gone, they would come for me. A profound, suffocating fear enveloped me. The thought of dying here, in this foreign land, so far from home, filled me with an immense sadness. Tears streamed down my face, hot against my cold skin. And then, a sharp, violent pain stabbed through my abdomen. Panic seized me. We had been married for five years, and for five years, I had desperately wanted a child. Charlie had too. I remembered the longing in his eyes when he saw families walking in the park, the way he’d pull me over to the children’s section in department stores. “When we have our baby,” he’d say, “I’m going to buy her all the prettiest dresses in the world!” But my health was poor, and getting pregnant had been a long, heartbreaking struggle. Charlie was always there to comfort me. “It will happen,” he’d promise. “We’ll have our baby.” Now, our baby was finally here. And he didn’t care. Perhaps some small, foolish part of me still held out hope. I forced myself to speak, my voice a ragged plea. “Charlie… my stomach… it hurts so much…” My voice was thick with pain and unspeakable grief. But it was Lila who stepped forward, her tone dripping with scorn. “Wow, Aurora. To think you’d use your own baby to play the victim, all to avoid saying sorry. You really are determined to ruin everyone’s fun, aren’t you?” She looked back at the others, who quickly chimed in. “We were just starting to have fun! Can’t you just hold on for a little longer?” “They’re full now, they won’t hurt you.” … A look of pure disgust crossed Charlie’s face. “Aurora, I’ve told you before. I hate liars.” He turned his back on me, refusing to look at me again. More meat rained down, and several chunks hit my stomach directly. I writhed helplessly, trying to shield my belly with my body. To the onlookers, my desperate movements were just a source of amusement. Another round of harsh, mocking laughter echoed across the savanna. “Look at her, twisting like a maggot. It’s hilarious.” “She’s nothing compared to Lila. No wonder Lila is the one he could never forget.” Lila preened under the praise. Then, I saw she was holding something new. A piece of bone. “The lions must be getting tired of just meat,” she announced with a cruel smile. “Let’s give them some bones to chew on!” My eyes widened in terror. A chunk of meat was one thing, but a bone? It would hit me like a rock. The pain in my abdomen flared again, sharp and terrifying. I started screaming, begging. All my pride, all my dignity, was gone. I just wanted to live. I wanted my baby to live. “No… please, no!” “I’m begging you, please don’t do this to me!” 4 No one listened. They began to hurl the bones. Through the crowd, I saw Lila’s eyes lock onto mine. Her gaze was filled with a chilling, malicious glee. It dropped from my face to my swollen belly, her expression twisting into a mask of pure hatred. “Die!” she mouthed. The word had barely formed on her lips when a heavy, blunt object slammed into my stomach. A scream of agony was ripped from my throat. I felt a warm gush between my legs. Blood. So much blood. I could feel the life draining out of me, out of my baby. My screams turned into desperate, helpless sobs. “My baby! Please, save my baby!” The raw, animalistic grief in my voice was so powerful that it stunned them all into silence. I was a horrifying sight, my hair wild, my body covered in blood. Charlie finally turned around. His pupils constricted in shock at the sight of me. “She’ll be fine,” Lila murmured, pressing herself against his chest. “We fed the lions. What could possibly happen?” “Charlie… please, save me,” I whispered, my voice growing weaker. “This is our baby… the baby you always wanted…” My voice faded, my breath catching in my throat. Charlie scoffed. “You’re a good actress, Aurora. I’ll give you that.” Lila shot me a triumphant look. She then placed a hand on her own flat stomach. “The baby Charlie is excited about,” she said, her voice clear and cutting, “is the one I’m carrying. Not yours.” The world stopped. Suddenly, everything made sense. Rage, pure and absolute, consumed me. It was a physical thing, a pressure building in my chest, choking me. I coughed, and a spray of blood erupted from my lips. I stared at them, my voice a trembling, disbelieving whisper. “What… what do you mean? You two?” Lila’s smile widened. “It means I’m pregnant with Charlie’s child too. Do you understand now?” A laugh bubbled up from my throat, a hysterical, broken sound. The confusion of the past few months evaporated in an instant. This was why he didn’t care. The baby he was waiting for was never mine. It was always hers. I looked at Charlie, and the last embers of love in my heart turned to ice. Our eyes met, and he flinched, a flicker of discomfort on his face. My laughter grew louder, wilder, until it became a raw, keening wail. Because I could feel it. The tiny, fluttering life inside me was gone. I had lost it… I had lost my baby. I would never know if it was a boy or a girl. I would never get to hold it, to see its face, to show it the world. My hysterical grief seemed to make them uncomfortable. Charlie, in particular, was frowning, his eyes fixed on me. Below, the lions had finished the meat and bones. Now, their attention was solely on me. They began to leap again, this time with deadly intent. I had lost too much blood. I had no strength left. A paw swiped at me, and I felt a searing pain as claws tore a chunk of flesh from my side. The agony was absolute. I felt like I’d been submerged in a freezing fire. Lila yawned theatrically and announced she was bored. Charlie looked at her with that same gentle expression. “Alright, let’s go back.” My fate became an afterthought. Someone quietly asked if they should get me down. Charlie refused, his voice harsh. He was clearly still annoyed by the look I’d given him. “Leave her. Let her hang there all night. Maybe it’ll teach her to fix that rotten attitude.” They were turning to leave. And then, the night erupted. Dozens of off-road vehicles, their headlights cutting through the darkness, roared onto the scene, surrounding them completely. The man in the lead vehicle stepped out, an AK-47 in his hands. He walked straight up to Charlie and pressed the barrel to his forehead. “And just where do you think you’re going?”

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The car crash happened on our way home for the holidays. One moment, my husband, Jeremy, and I were driving; the next, darkness. When I opened my eyes again, we were back before we even started dating. In my first life, our seven-year marriage was a masterclass in politeness. We were like respectful strangers sharing a roof, a bed, but never a heart. He wouldn’t even give me a child. It was only later that I understood why: he had never gotten over his first love, the one that got away. So, this time, I decided to set him free. Without a word, we quietly deleted each other from our contacts, kept our distance, and chose different paths. Seven years later, he was a rising star on Wall Street, and at our high school reunion, he and his old flame, Isabella Vance, made their engagement official. He saw me standing alone and couldn’t resist a taunt, a smirk playing on his lips. “Jodi,” he said, his voice laced with condescending pity. “I know I was the best you ever had, the love of your life in two lifetimes. But you don’t have to stay single forever, waiting for me.” I didn’t bother to answer. I just reached out and took my son’s hand. The color drained from Jeremy’s face. His eyes, suddenly wild and bloodshot, locked onto me. “You told me you’d love me forever,” he hissed, his voice cracking. “That you’d only ever have children with me.” 1 The first time I saw Jeremy Olson again was at our seven-year high school reunion. I’d just come off a marathon of surgeries and was too exhausted to even think about changing. I walked straight into the lavish hotel ballroom in my scrubs. Jeremy was the center of attention, of course, his arm wrapped possessively around Isabella Vance’s waist as he soaked in the praise. “Jeremy, you’re killing it, man!” one old classmate gushed. “A few years on Wall Street and you’re already one of the biggest names. You’re the pride of Oakhaven High!” “No kidding,” another chimed in. “I heard the big dogs in New York pay a fortune just to have dinner with him. The consulting fee alone is what most of us make in a year!” “Hey, Jeremy, I’m dabbling in stocks,” a third pleaded. “For old times’ sake, give me a tip, let me ride your coattails!” Then, a curious voice cut through the noise. “So, Jeremy, are you and Isabella finally tying the knot?” Jeremy’s gaze softened as he looked down at the woman in his arms. “We are. The engagement party is December 20th.” A fresh wave of congratulations erupted. Then, someone turned to him. “Jeremy, do you ever talk to Jodi anymore? You two were so intense back in the day. Didn’t you write your first song for her?” At the mention of my name, I saw his smile freeze, his eyes darken ever so slightly. Isabella, ever the graceful fiancée, just laughed it off. “Oh, you know how it is,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “High school hobbies don’t last, and neither do high school romances. He’s been over Jodi for a long, long time.” The crowd chuckled, turning their attention back to what a perfect couple they were. But I knew the truth. That song wasn’t just a song. It was the melody he’d written to ask me out, the one he’d played for me under the bleachers, his eyes shining with what I thought was sincerity. “Jodi, look at me,” he’d said back then, his voice earnest. “I love you. My eyes would never lie.” And I believed him. Turns out, they could and they did. I walked further into the ballroom, my expression neutral. A classmate with sharp eyes spotted me. “Jodi! You finally made it!” “What are you wearing? You couldn’t find a dress?” “Don’t tell me you just got off work. Where are you slaving away these days? We’ve got some heavy hitters here, maybe one of them can hook you up with a real job!” The whispers and snickers followed me as I found an empty seat. I ignored them, focusing on the simple, profound pleasure of food. Jeremy had been watching me since the moment I walked in. His gaze was a heavy, unreadable weight. He finally broke the silence, his voice dripping with mockery. “Jodi Summers. Years go by, and you haven’t changed a bit. Still no ambition.” Isabella’s eyes flashed with a venomous glint, but she quickly masked it, snuggling closer to Jeremy’s arm as if to mark her territory. “Jeremy, darling, don’t be so harsh,” she cooed, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Life’s been a little rough for her, we shouldn’t rub it in. Jodi’s had it hard enough.” She raked her eyes over my casual attire, a smirk playing on her perfectly painted lips. “But really, Jodi, what is this look? You’re not getting any younger. A woman has to take care of herself, you know. Otherwise, how will you ever find a husband? What man wants a woman who’s let herself go?” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you need to borrow some makeup?” The question hung in the air, followed by a ripple of suppressed laughter. The contrast was stark. Isabella was a vision in designer labels, her makeup flawless, every strand of hair in place, radiating the effortless confidence of old money. And then there was me. I hadn’t slept in nearly 24 hours, fresh from the operating room, looking as haggard as I felt. My clothes were comfortable, unbranded, and a world away from her curated perfection. “No, thank you. I’m fine,” I replied calmly, turning my attention back to my plate. After the intensity of surgery, I hadn’t eaten all day. As I was savoring a bite of steak, Jeremy approached my table. He slid a check across the polished wood, placing it directly in front of me. It was for ten thousand dollars. “This is for old times’ sake,” he said, his tone that of a benevolent king bestowing charity. “A little something to help you out. Treat yourself. Get a more respectable job, buy some new clothes. Learn to love yourself again.” He paused, his expression shifting. “Jodi, the past is the past. Don’t dwell on it.” He sighed dramatically. “If it weren’t for you… well, it doesn’t matter now.” “What matters is that you can’t let my leaving destroy you. You can’t just give up on life like this. Promise me.” I looked up, genuinely confused. What had I done in our past life that made him so certain he had to abandon me in this one? In that other life, we went from high school sweethearts to a married couple. He had his musical dreams, and I had my dream of becoming a doctor—both paths were draining, financially and emotionally. One of us had to sacrifice. And because I loved him, I was the one who walked away from a prestigious medical residency, taking a job to support both of our dreams on a single income. He failed, again and again. Each rejection plunged him into a deeper despair. And I was his constant, his endless source of support, coming home exhausted only to spend hours rebuilding his fragile ego. I thought he saw my love in that sacrifice. I was wrong. The breaking point came when he wanted a new, expensive guitar, and I had to tell him we simply couldn’t afford it. He exploded, smashing his old guitar against the wall in a fit of rage. “Don’t you get it?!” he screamed, his face twisted with resentment. “If I had just listened to Isabella and gone to America with her, I wouldn’t be living like this! I regret ever getting together with you!” After that, he gave up on music. He lost his dream. And his words—”I regret ever getting together with you”—became a ghost that haunted my nights. I made one last, desperate attempt to save us. I wrapped my arms around him one night and whispered, “Jeremy, I want to have a baby with you.” He shoved me away, his eyes filled with a chilling disgust. “Are you insane? Look at our finances! We can’t afford a child! Besides, I’ve told you before, I hate kids! I don’t want to have a child with you!” Those two sentences shattered the last bit of hope in my heart. When that truck swerved into our lane on New Year’s, I wasn’t scared. I was relieved. It was an escape. Now, we had both been given a second chance, and we had both chosen to walk away. There was no need for “old times’ sake.” I pushed the check back towards him. “No, thank you. I don’t accept gifts from strangers.” 2 His brow furrowed. “A stranger, Jodi? What is that supposed to mean?” “It means,” I said, my voice even, “that I can buy my own clothes. And whatever my job is, I find it perfectly respectable. I’m not giving up on anything. You should keep your money for someone who actually needs it.” He stood there, clutching the check, his lips pressed into a thin, angry line. Isabella glided to his side, her eyes flicking from the check to my face. A storm of anger brewed behind her carefully composed expression, but her voice was as gentle as ever. “Jodi, if you won’t accept our help, perhaps we can offer something more… practical.” She smiled, a benefactor to a charity case. “I just opened a new nail salon on Grand Avenue. I could set you up as an apprentice. The pay isn’t amazing, maybe six thousand a month to start, but you’d learn a real skill. That way, if you ever hit rock bottom, you’d at least have a trade to fall back on.” “What do you think?” she pressed. “It has to be more respectable than whatever you’re doing now.” I calmly continued eating, refusing to be baited. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m quite happy with my current job. I have no plans to change careers.” An old classmate shouted from across the room, “Jodi, don’t be an idiot! Jeremy and Isabella are being generous! They’re offering you money, a job! Just take it!” “Yeah, seriously,” another chimed in. “You’re clearly struggling, swallow your pride! Why else would you even show up to a reunion looking like that if you weren’t looking for a handout? Stop putting on an act!” Isabella jumped in, playing the peacemaker. “Everyone, please! Don’t say that! Maybe Jodi genuinely loves her job.” She turned back to me, her eyes gleaming with false sympathy. “Jodi, this is a real opportunity. We’re only offering because of our history. Don’t let your pride get in the way.” I truly couldn’t comprehend this bizarre need to force charity on me. “Really, I don’t need it. Thank you.” Isabella’s smile remained, but her eyes were cold with disdain. Jeremy finally crumpled the check in his fist. “You can’t help someone who won’t help themselves,” he sneered. “A lost cause. Fine, stay poor for the rest of your life for all I care!” As if his words were a signal, a group of the guys, emboldened by alcohol, swarmed my table. “Jodi, you look like you could use a break,” one of them slurred, shoving a drink toward me. “Drink this, and I’ll send you a thousand bucks.” “If you’re really that desperate…” another one added, his eyes roaming over me in a way that made my skin crawl, “…I could add a little more to the pot.” The rest of the group hooted with laughter. No one stepped in. My patience snapped. This was a far cry from the friendly reunion I’d expected. If I wasn’t waiting for someone, I would have already walked out. I was about to call for security when Jeremy, who had been watching from the side, suddenly stubbed out his cigarette and grabbed the man’s arm. His voice was ice. “Back off.” The man yelped in pain as Jeremy’s grip tightened. Isabella rushed over, tugging on Jeremy’s sleeve. “Jeremy, what are you doing?!” His face was a cold mask. “Being a decent human being. This is a class reunion, not a frat party.” He shoved the man away. The guy didn’t dare challenge Jeremy, but he shot me a venomous glare before retreating. I couldn’t help but stare at Jeremy, surprised that he would defend me. Isabella looked like she wanted to chew nails, but she forced a bright smile. “Anyway! I heard the CEO and the young heir of the Apex Group are having a meeting upstairs. If we’re lucky, we might get to see the city’s richest man in person!” The mood in the room shifted instantly. The Apex Group. Its CEO was a legend—handsome, powerful, and still in his thirties, with a five-year-old son. But the identity of his wife was the city’s best-kept secret. “Does that mean we might see his wife tonight? I’ve gotta post this on TikTok!” “This is front-page news!” Moments later, a team of bodyguards entered the ballroom, escorting a small boy. The crowd buzzed with excitement. “Look at that entourage! That must be him, the Apex heir! He’s so handsome!” The man who had harassed me, now nursing his wrist, sidled up to me again. “See, Jodi? If it weren’t for Isabella, a working-class nobody like you would never even be in the same room as the Apex prince. If I were you, I’d get on my knees and thank her. Maybe she’d help you land a decent job, or even a guy like me who makes a whole six thousand a month.” Pathetic. I ignored him, my gaze fixed on the boy. Everyone swarmed forward, phones out, taking pictures and videos. Even the ever-composed Isabella put on her most charming smile and approached the child, practically oozing with manufactured warmth. “Hello there, little one,” she cooed, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “Is there anything you’d like to eat? Auntie can buy it for you.” But the boy, who had looked so serious and aloof surrounded by his guards, completely ignored her. His eyes scanned the room, landed on me, and lit up. He broke away from his security detail and ran straight towards me, a brilliant smile on his face. “Mommy!” he cried, throwing himself into my arms. “You’re finally here!” The little prince who had been so cool and distant a moment ago was now looking up at me with big, teary eyes. “You didn’t come home last night! I missed you so, so much!” I hugged my son tight, stroking his hair. “I was working, sweetie,” I murmured. “I told you before I left, remember? But guess what? Mommy’s off tomorrow. We can go play anywhere you want. How does that sound?” My precious Leo nodded eagerly. “Yes! Mommy is the best!” The entire room was silent. Every single person was staring at us, their faces a mixture of shock and utter disbelief. Just as someone was about to speak, a devastatingly handsome man in a tailored suit rushed down from the upstairs conference room. “Honey,” he said, his voice warm with relief. “The hotel manager told me you were at a reunion down here. Why didn’t you call me when you got off your shift? I would have picked you up.” The hotel manager stood beside him, beaming. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced to the stunned crowd, “Allow me to introduce the President of the Apex Group, Mr. Travis Wade, and his wife, Dr. Jodi Summers. Please, enjoy your evening. If our esteemed guests require anything at all, we are at your service.” The atmosphere crackled. The people who had just been mocking me were now staring with wide, excited eyes. Those who had been cruelest looked pale and sick. A few of my closer friends from school finally found their voices. “Jodi… your husband is Travis Wade? The richest man in the city?” “Are you kidding? Didn’t you hear the manager? The little heir just called her ‘Mommy’! She is the secret wife!” “Oh my god… now that is true royalty…” I could only offer a small, polite smile as the whispers turned into a roar. Travis looked me over, his expression softening with concern as he pulled me into a gentle embrace. “Just got out of the hospital again? Let’s get you home to rest as soon as you’re ready.” I nodded. “Okay.” Then, my cool and powerful husband completely ignored Isabella, who was trying to catch his eye, and looked directly at Jeremy. His voice was laced with a cool, cutting disdain.

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My counterfeit sister was allergic to lies. The moment she heard one, she’d sneeze, break out in a rash, and her eyes would water. The day I was brought back to my real family, she swelled up like a balloon, a mess of tears and snot. And just like that, my entire family branded me a malicious liar. Later, when my grandmother, paralyzed by a stroke, tumbled down the stairs, I barely had time to shake my head and deny it was me. But the next second, my “sister” had a severe allergic reaction and went into anaphylactic shock. My father was furious. My mother wept and cursed me. My brother slapped me across the face. “How could the Warren family have produced such a venomous, black-hearted monster like you?” I was humiliated, punished, and tormented. It wasn’t until after I died that I finally learned her secret. …

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My mother picked two suitors: a wealthy gentleman for my sister Evelyn, and a blind, wheelchair-bound scholar’s son for me. I devoted myself to his care—funding treatments, describing the world, becoming his eyes. Doctors said his legs were fine; perhaps it was psychological. Then we were kidnapped. As a knife stabbed toward Evelyn, my husband suddenly stood, yanking me in front of her. The blade pierced my heart. His bodyguards called him “Young Master.” He wasn’t disabled. His father, the city’s richest man, had staged this to test sincerity. “You passed,” he whispered as I died. “But I love Evelyn. I’ll repay you next life.” I awoke back at the choosing day. 1 In the living room, my mother was all smiles, chatting with two young men. One was Julian Harelik, sitting in a wheelchair. The other was the impeccably dressed Harrison Ford. Just like last time, my sister Evelyn’s gaze was fixed entirely on Harrison. My younger brother, Will, ever the troublemaker, saw my pale face and decided to poke fun. “Is there even a choice here? Rachel’s dressed like a farm girl. She and the blind guy are a perfect match.” He smirked. “But Evelyn has been the campus queen since we were kids. We can’t let a cripple ruin her.” My fists clenched. “So what you’re saying is that I, the sister who has fed and clothed you your whole life, deserve to be ruined?” “Don’t you forget how you’re still alive today!” Evelyn and Will were twins, three years my junior. From a young age, my parents had drilled one idea into my head: the eldest sister is like a mother. I had to care for my siblings like an adult and help support the family. So, the best food always went to them. New clothes were always for them. When Will needed a kidney transplant, it was my kidney that I gave. Now, Will wanted to marry some socialite, but we couldn’t afford the bride price. So my mother, shameless as ever, had contacted the Harelik and Ford families—families we hadn’t spoken to in over a decade—to demand they honor some casual, long-forgotten marriage pact made by our grandparents. She planned to use my and Evelyn’s dowries to pay for my brother’s wedding. But having lived and died once already, I had nothing left to lose. “I choose Harrison,” I announced, my voice ringing with a newfound firmness. “Or I won’t marry at all.” Everyone stared at me, stunned. Tears welled up in Evelyn’s eyes. I had never been so assertive, never dared to claim something she wanted. She immediately cast a pleading look at Harrison. He understood. He sat down beside her, pulling her into his arms. “Evelyn and I felt a connection the moment we met. As her older sister, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to stand in the way of her happiness.” Evelyn clung to his hand, her eyes misty. “And you know I’m terrible at taking care of people. I couldn’t possibly live with Julian. What if his condition gets worse because of me? I’d feel so guilty. Rachel, you learned traditional medicine from Grandpa, didn’t you? If you were with him, you might even be able to cure him. It would be a good deed.” I glanced at the silent Julian, a small, knowing smile playing on my lips. “So, you’ve decided on Harrison, then.” She nodded. My mother quickly sealed the deal. “Alright, it’s settled then.” But in the next moment, Julian moved. He lifted a slender hand, removed his dark glasses, and revealed a pair of startlingly bright eyes. Then, he stood up from his wheelchair. He walked past me, straight to Evelyn, a smile gracing his lips. “You don’t have to worry about taking care of me. I was just playing a little joke on everyone. And while I’m not from this city, my father is the wealthiest man in Crestmont. You’ll live a very comfortable life with me.” His voice was smooth as silk. “Evelyn, would you give me a chance to win your heart?” I scoffed inwardly. Of course. He was reborn, too. That made things much easier. 2 While everyone was still reeling from the shock, I spoke up. “Mom, since that’s the case, I’m not getting married. As for how much of a dowry you can get from them, that’s up to you.” My mother’s face flushed with embarrassment. One was the son of Crestmont’s richest man, the other the heir to a prominent local family. She couldn’t afford to offend either of them. And right on cue, Harrison’s competitive streak flared. He stood up, meeting Julian’s gaze. “A gentleman does not steal another’s love. Do you understand?” Julian returned his look without flinching. “Who is beloved, I believe, is for Miss Evelyn to decide.” A handsome curve formed on his lips as he turned his gaze, now filled with an overwhelming tenderness, back to Evelyn. “Do you remember, when we were children here in Seabrook, my grandfather set up a chess problem under a tree? You were the only one to solve it, and in less than an hour.” “I was so captivated by your intelligence then, I swore I would marry no one but you in this life.” “Don’t feel pressured. I will compete with Harrison fairly. No matter who you choose in the end, I will respect your decision.” In my past life, I had never understood why his love for Evelyn ran so deep. Now, hearing the reason, I could only find it laughable. I was the one who solved that chess problem. But I couldn’t blame him for the mistake. Back then, I was perpetually hungry, giving all my food to my siblings. I was shorter and scrawnier than Evelyn. But I had no intention of revealing the truth. It was all so pointless. Seeing Evelyn nod, Harrison, though displeased, agreed to the competition. This was no longer just about a girl; it was about the pride of two powerful families from two different cities. The show was over. I stood up to go to my room, but my mother stopped me. “Where are you going?” “Oh, I’m leaving this house to go live with Grandpa.” “You are not! If you leave, who will they marry?” I let out a sharp laugh. “Mom, what, you want both wealthy sons-in-law? If you’re that desperate, why don’t you marry one of them yourself? I’m not interested in anyone’s leftovers.” With that, I went to my room to pack. The truth was, my grandfather had disowned our family long ago. Twenty years ago, my mother, greedy for money, had boasted that his medical skills could bring the dead back to life. She insisted on bringing a corpse to his clinic, nearly ruining his lifelong reputation. He threw her out and severed all ties. Only I, after I was old enough, would secretly visit him. I had a natural talent for traditional medicine. In my last life, I could have inherited his legacy. I had to give it all up because I married Julian. I was too busy working odd jobs to pay for his treatments, saving up to take him on trips to lift his spirits. This time, I would live for myself. 3 After packing, I hurried to the entrance of our neighborhood to catch a cab. But Julian was there, blocking my path. It was the first time I had ever stood so close to him. I realized then how tall and perfectly sculpted he was. A beautiful vessel, but a rotten core. “Rachel, you’re reborn too, aren’t you?” I met his gaze, my head held high. “Yes. I remember every one of your cold glances, every lie you told me. And I remember the piercing pain of that knife.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.” “Save your cheap apologies. I will never forgive you. Now get out of my way.” Suddenly, his hand clamped around my arm like a vise. “You can’t leave.” In the next second, two of his bodyguards dragged me into a car. I was taken to a lavish villa and surrounded by his men. “Julian, what the hell are you doing? I’m not bothering you and Evelyn anymore. Why are you holding me captive?” “Rachel, in our last life, I said I would compensate you. If she doesn’t choose me this time, I will marry you and ensure you live a life of ease.” I snorted. “And if she does choose you?” “Then I’ll give you a sum of money and let you go. For now, I need your help. Tell me everything she likes.” He leaned in closer. “Tell me what she likes to eat. I’ve invited her for dinner. I’m going to cook for her myself.” Though my heart was filled with hatred, seeing him so devoted to Evelyn still sent a pang of pain through me. I bit my lip, refusing to speak, but his grip tightened until I thought my bones would break. “Expensive things,” I finally choked out. “The more expensive, the better.” After he went into the kitchen, I scouted the villa, looking for any possible escape route. Soon, the doorbell rang. Evelyn stood at the door in a pink dress, her face a picture of shy anticipation. Julian greeted her with a warm smile. “Thank you,” she cooed, her voice artificially sweet, before noticing my presence. “What are you doing here?” Julian quickly explained. “She’s here to help me win you over. I figured your sister would know your preferences best.” Though her eyes were filled with disdain, she forced a gentle smile. “Julian, you’re so thoughtful.” When we sat down to eat, I didn’t hold back, digging into the air-freighted lobster and king crab. But Evelyn was busy tapping on her phone. Soon, it rang urgently. “Mom? Calm down, what’s wrong?” “What? I’ll be right there.” After hanging up, she suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me. “Rachel, Will needs another kidney transplant! Please, help him! You can’t just let him die!” My mind went blank. After the last surgery, the doctor had said Will’s recovery was excellent and a relapse was highly unlikely. “You’re a match, too. Why don’t you donate?” But she acted as if she couldn’t hear me, banging her head on the floor. “Rachel, please, I’m begging you, save him!” Julian, his heart aching for her, pulled her up from the floor and into his arms. He then turned to me, his eyes blazing with anger. “You’re so selfish!” With that, he swept Evelyn out of the house, but not before ordering his guards to keep a close watch on me. 4 I was locked in a room on the third floor. No amount of pounding on the door did any good. I found a heavy trophy on a shelf and, without hesitation, smashed it against the window. Looking down from the third-floor height, my legs trembled. I closed my eyes and jumped. But fate was not on my side. I landed hard, breaking several ribs. The pain was so intense I could barely breathe. Just then, Julian walked over. I instinctively begged for help. “Take… take me to a hospital.” But his voice was glacial. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here to donate a kidney to your brother.” I stared at him in disbelief, tears streaming down my face. “I only have one kidney left. If I give it to him, I’ll die.” “Yes,” he said flatly. “I know.” My heart turned to ice. “This is your compensation?” “I’m sorry. I can’t bear to see Evelyn sad. Just consider it another debt I owe you.” I lay in bed for days, my injuries slowly healing, but my life was ticking away. The feeling of waiting for death was a slow, creeping despair. Five days later, Evelyn came into my room alone. Seeing me tied to the bed, she burst out laughing. “Sister, since you’re about to die, I’ll tell you the truth. The one who needs the kidney isn’t Will. It’s the person he hit with his car. And what a coincidence, they’re a perfect match for you.” Tears poured from my eyes. “Have I ever been anything but good to you? Why are you doing this to me?” She shot me a venomous glare. “If you want to blame someone, blame Julian. If he were really a cripple, I would have let you have him. But he’s not. So I want them both!” I closed my eyes in sorrow. She untied my restraints. I got up and followed her slowly. As we reached the door, I suddenly shoved her out with all my might and slammed the door, locking it from the inside. I grabbed the can of gasoline I had prepared and doused the room, then struck a match. Evelyn pounded on the door frantically. “What are you doing? You can’t die! I’m calling Julian right now!” My voice was calm, detached. “I’ve already called the police. If you don’t want Julian to find out you conspired to trick him, you’d better pray I burn to death!” The pounding stopped. I stood amidst the swirling flames and laughed, a wild, liberating sound. Finally, release. Farewell, to this world that had never once been kind to me.

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I refused to give up my reserved hospital parking spot for my husband’s ex, Ava. She’d call on rainy days, claiming she was too frail to walk from the public garage. “It’s just a few extra steps,” I’d say. “Why obsess over my spot?” When Leonard found out, he raged: “She got soaked and nearly lost the baby! Couldn’t you be decent for once?” I scoffed. “She chooses to walk in the rain instead of driving. How is that my fault?” He apologized, playing the perfect husband for months—until my water broke. For three hours, he drove in circles, deliberately missing the delivery window. On the hospital monitor, he smirked at the camera, holding Ava: “First come, first served, right? Let’s see how long you’ll wait in line for your life.” 1 A tearing agony ripped through my abdomen. I grabbed Leonard’s arm, my knuckles white. “Get me to the hospital! Now!” He shoved my hand away, a sneer twisting his lips. “What’s the rush? When Ava was burning up with a fever in the rain, she was in a hundred times more pain than you are now.” The car lurched to a halt. I peered through the window, my heart sinking. This wasn’t the hospital. It was a desolate, subterranean parking garage. “Leonard, are you insane? The baby is coming!” He didn’t answer. Instead, he switched on the car’s dashboard screen. It wasn’t the navigation system. It was a live feed from the hospital’s CCTV. There, in the private birthing suite I had booked and paid for, lay Ava, nestled comfortably in bed, attended to by a team of nurses. Through the screen, Ava looked directly into the camera, her eyes welling with crocodile tears. “Rebecca, I’m so sorry,” she whimpered. “I went into labor early, so I had to take your suite. The doctors say my condition is critical, that I need to be admitted immediately.” The floor fell out from under me. “This was your plan all along.” Leonard lit a cigarette, taking a long, leisurely drag. “First come, first served. Your words. So now, you can wait right here.” The contractions were coming faster, harder. A cold sweat beaded on my forehead. “Then take me to another hospital!” “Another hospital?” Leonard laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “You’re the one who said I didn’t have to pay for anything. Why should I help you?” He cranked the air conditioning, aiming the vents directly at me. An arctic blast hit my body. I began to shiver violently, the cold making the searing pain in my belly even more unbearable. “Leonard, this is your child I’m carrying!” “Is it?” His eyes were chips of ice. “Ava told me she saw you. Wrapped in another man’s arms. We don’t know whose child that is, do we?” I stared at him, aghast. “You’re delusional! When have I ever—” “Enough!” He spun around, his face a mask of disgust. “Ava’s been fragile her whole life. You, the pampered princess, couldn’t just let her have a damn parking spot. You had to let her get sick. Now, it’s your turn to understand what real pain feels like.” The car doors clicked shut, locking me in. Leonard got out, leaving me alone in the suffocating, freezing space. Then, I felt a warm gush. My water had broken. The fluid soaked through my dress, staining the expensive leather of the seat. On the screen, Ava’s pathetic mask dropped, replaced by a triumphant smile. She gave a little wave to the camera. A moment later, the car door was wrenched open. Leonard stood there, flanked by five imposing men in dark suits. “It’s too warm in here,” Leonard said, his voice dripping with condescension. “How could you possibly appreciate the misery Ava felt in that cold rain?” My eyes widened in terror. “Leonard, the baby is coming! Get me to a hospital!” “Coming?” He scoffed. “Did you give a damn when Ava went into premature labor?” Two of the men moved forward, grabbing my arms and hauling me out of the car. A mixture of amniotic fluid and blood dripped onto the grimy concrete. The pain was so intense I could barely stand. “What are you doing? Let go of me!” Leonard ignored my pleas, simply pointing towards a car wash bay in the corner of the garage. The men dragged me towards it. I fought with everything I had, but a fresh wave of agony, like a blade twisting in my gut, stole my strength. “Leonard! I’m serious, the baby is coming out!” He picked up the nozzle of a pressure washer, aiming it directly at me. “Rebecca, you’ve been coddled your whole life. You have no idea what real suffering is.” A brutal, high-pressure blast of water slammed into my body. “Aaargh!” The water was ice-cold. The force of it knocked me to the ground. The bloody fluid around me was blasted across the concrete floor. I curled into a ball, but two of the enforcers pinned me down, their grips like iron. From the screen of a tablet one of them held, I could hear Ava’s cloying voice. “Leonard, maybe that’s enough. She’s pregnant, after all…” “You’re still defending her?!” Leonard’s rage intensified. He cranked the pressure washer to its maximum setting. “She’s the reason you went into labor early! The reason our son is now fighting for his life in an incubator! This is nothing compared to what she did!” The icy jet hit me again, and I thought I would drown in the pain. Soaked, my hair plastered to my face, I was a pathetic, broken thing on the floor. “Enough… please… the baby’s coming…” I begged, my voice a ragged whisper. Leonard’s eyes were merciless. “Cut her clothes off.” “No! You can’t!” I screamed, my voice raw with terror. One of the men produced a pair of shears. With a sharp rip, my maternity dress was torn open. “Leonard! You’re a monster!” He looked down at me, a god passing judgment. “When Ava was drenched and feverish, she felt just as helpless. Now it’s your turn.” The shears continued their work, shredding what was left of my clothes. The profound sense of shame was sharper than any contraction. A violent spasm seized my womb, and I instinctively reached for my pocket. It was still there. The micro-locator. My last hope. I covertly pressed the button. As the signal went out, a wave of relief washed over me. My parents would get the alert. They would come for me. I just had to hold on until they arrived— “Rebecca. What are you doing?” Leonard’s voice cut through the air. He snatched the device from my hand and, with a vicious stomp, crushed it under his heel. “Calling for help? You’re always full of tricks, aren’t you?” The electronic components scattered across the wet concrete. I collapsed, defeated, as the contractions intensified, one crashing into the next. I couldn’t give up. I wouldn’t. I’d taken emergency first aid and physiology courses in college. I had to rely on myself now. I regulated my breathing, trying to relax my muscles, to work with the rhythm of my body. Through the haze of pain, I could feel the baby moving down. I could feel the head crowning. “Leonard, I’m giving birth! Right now!” I gritted out. Maybe, just maybe, I could deliver this baby myself. Seeing this, Leonard’s face darkened into a thunderous scowl. From the tablet, Ava’s panicked voice shrieked, “Leonard! I nearly bled to death during my delivery! How can it be this easy for her?” Her voice was thick with jealousy and disbelief. Leonard nodded, then turned and beckoned to someone behind him. “Doctor, come here.” Only then did I notice he’d brought his own private physician. A middle-aged man in a white coat approached, a syringe in his hand. “She’s having it too easy,” Leonard commanded, his voice devoid of all emotion. “Give her the contraction suppressant.” What?! My eyes flew wide with horror. “Leonard, you can’t! That will kill me! It will kill the baby!” The doctor didn’t hesitate. He knelt, and I felt the sharp prick of the needle in my arm. “No—!” The drug hit my bloodstream like liquid ice and fire. My lower abdomen seized as if caught in a giant, crushing vise. The baby, which had been moments from birth, was violently halted, forced back. The tearing sensation that followed blacked out my vision. Blood began to pour from me, pooling on the ground, a crimson tide. I was suffocating, my body convulsing uncontrollably. “Ava lost more blood than this,” Leonard stated, looking down at me in the spreading pool of my own blood, his tone terrifyingly calm. As the drug’s effects began to wane, I summoned every last ounce of strength I had. With a final, desperate push, the baby slid out of my body. Lying in the bloody mess, I trembled as I looked down at the infant in my arms. His skin was a terrifying shade of blue. His tiny mouth was closed. There was no cry. “My baby! My baby!” I clutched him to my chest, my shaking hands stroking his cold, still face. The private doctor rushed over, preparing to perform emergency resuscitation. “Get out of the way!” Leonard shoved the doctor aside and snatched the baby from my arms. “I’ll do it! Ava taught me how!” I could only watch in horror as he took my son. Following the “special technique” Ava had supposedly taught him, Leonard began to perform forceful chest compressions on the newborn. CRACK! The sickening snap of a tiny bone echoed through the parking garage. My son’s ribs were broken. He stopped breathing altogether. “NO!!!” A raw, animalistic howl tore from my throat as I scrambled toward Leonard. “Leonard! You killed our son! You monster!” I snatched my baby back, holding his lifeless body tight. He was so small, so fragile, like a perfect porcelain doll. A doll whose eyes would never open. Leonard stood frozen for a second, then his shock morphed into rage. “It’s your fault! This is all your fault!” he roared, kicking out at me. “If you hadn’t been so selfish about that parking spot, Ava wouldn’t have gone into premature labor! She would have been calm, and she would have taught me the right way!” “You’re lying! Ava did this on purpose!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face, dripping onto my son’s cold cheek. “She wanted our baby dead!” “Shut up!” Leonard gestured to his men. “Tie her up!” Rough hands dragged me away from my child. The ropes bit into my flesh, but I felt nothing. All I could feel was the gaping void where my heart used to be. From the tablet, Ava’s voice cooed, “Leonard, my love, Rebecca is just too cruel. She needs to learn what true despair feels like.” Leonard nodded, then turned to his enforcers, a group of men who looked like they’d just been released from prison. “You lot,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Show her what a hard life really is.” The men’s faces split into leering, predatory grins. I closed my eyes. It was for the best. My child was gone. What reason did I have to live? Just as a filthy hand was about to touch me— BOOM! The garage’s rolling steel door was torn from its moorings. A convoy of sleek black sedans screeched to a halt inside. Men in tactical gear swarmed out, neutralizing Leonard’s thugs with brutal efficiency. Screams of pain replaced the leering grins. The man leading the charge rushed to my side, shrugging off his expensive suit jacket and wrapping it around my shivering body. “Ma’am! I’m sorry I’m late!” I leaned weakly into his embrace, my eyes fixed on Leonard’s stunned face. “Rebecca… who… who are you?” Leonard stammered, his voice trembling. “Ma’am?” From the tablet, Ava’s voice rose in a panic. “Leonard, run! They look like the mob!” I stared at Leonard, my voice weak but crystal clear. “Him. And the woman on that screen. I want them to wish they had never been born.” Leonard stumbled backward, his face ashen. “Impossible! You’re just a regular office worker! How could you…” My head of security, Jackson, let out a cold laugh, his eyes dripping with contempt for the man before him. “Mr. Anderson, every penny you’ve ever spent, every luxury you’ve ever enjoyed, was a gift from Ms. Gilbert.” “The fact that your company, Anderson Corp, was pulled back from the brink of bankruptcy… you thought that was your business acumen?” Jackson sneered. “That was Ms. Gilbert pulling strings from the shadows.” The blood drained from Leonard’s face. “No… that’s not possible…” “The mansion you live in, the sports car you drive, every single contract your company has landed—” Jackson enunciated each word like a hammer blow. “Which one of those wasn’t arranged by her?” On the screen, Ava’s voice grew shrill. “That’s impossible! Rebecca doesn’t have that kind of background! She’s a nobody, a—” “Silence,” I cut her off. “A nobody from the wrong side of the tracks dares to speak in my presence?” Leonard was shaking from head to toe. “Rebecca… our three years together… our marriage…” “Marriage?” I laughed, but the sound was hollow and sharp with mockery. “You murdered my son, and you have the audacity to speak of our marriage?” The pool of blood on the floor had begun to congeal around the tiny, still form of my dead child. “Jackson, take them,” I commanded, closing my eyes. “And remember my instructions. Make them wish they were dead.” “Yes, ma’am!” Jackson gestured, and his men seized Leonard. “Rebecca! You can’t do this!” Leonard struggled. “We can start over! I can fix this!” Start over? I opened my eyes, and the sheer coldness in them made him flinch. “Do you know what I hate more than anything in this world, Leonard?” He stared, bewildered. “Betrayal,” I said, each word a shard of ice. “Especially from someone I truly gave my heart to.” A medical team rushed in, carefully lifting me onto a stretcher. As they carried me away, I gave Leonard one last look.

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When the private photos of Lary Croft landed in my hands, I knew he had cheated again. This time, it was with his personal secretary, a woman who bore a striking resemblance to me. I numbly went through the usual motions, offering her money to disappear. But this time, she looked at me, her eyes red with defiance. “Ms. Thorne,” she said, her voice trembling, “do you believe me when I say that if I leave, Mr. Croft and your mother will lose their minds?” She made a bet with me, then intentionally left behind a resignation letter full of feigned humiliation and vanished. At first, I didn’t take her words to heart. Every one of Lary’s mistresses had said something similar, some final act of defiance before they took the money and ran. But this time, when my mother heard the news, her hair turned white overnight. And Lary, my husband of seven years, handed me a divorce agreement. “Ivy was my mother-in-law’s illegitimate daughter, raised outside the family,” he said, his voice flat. “And we have a five-year-old child together. I’ve been with her longer than I’ve been with you.” “She is our life.” My world tilted. It was then I realized the woman’s words were true. Without her, my mother and my husband really would go insane. 1 “Either you tell us where Ivy is, or we sever our mother-daughter relationship.” “Get out of the Thorne family home right now.” My mother’s hoarse voice made my heart skip a beat. I stared at them, my head reeling. For the first time, the world felt utterly absurd. “I really don’t know anything.” My voice was a faint, powerless whisper. It only filled my mother’s eyes with profound disappointment. Lary threw Ivy’s resignation letter at my feet. It was filled with accusations against me and professions of her heartbreak at leaving them. “I don’t care how you treat other people.” “But why did you have to touch Ivy? She and the child have vanished without a trace. Are you telling me you have nothing to do with it?!” Lary’s voice grew louder with each word. He had been searching for her all night, his eyes shot through with red. The man who was always so composed was now a mess of raw panic. I closed my eyes, the simple act of breathing sending a sharp pain through my lungs. “Ivy took my money. She left voluntarily. I don’t know where she is.” Seeing my detached demeanor, Lary’s patience finally snapped. He turned to my mother. “Mother, she’s not going to tell the truth. Who knows what she’s done to Ivy…” “And don’t forget about Lary Junior. The child is missing too. He’s your only biological grandchild.” At his words, my mother slowly rose to her feet. Her bodyguards moved as one, surrounding me. “Lily,” she said, her voice cold and even, “you and Ivy are both my children. If you confess now, I promise I won’t punish you.” “I’m giving you one last chance. Just tell me where Ivy is, and I will forgive you. You will still be the eldest daughter of the Thorne family.” The woman before me blurred with the memory of the mother I once knew. But the warmth in her eyes was gone, replaced by ice. My lips trembled. I tried to speak, but only a choked sob escaped. My mother’s patience wore thin. She waved her hand, and the bodyguards seized my shoulders. “Break her fingers first.” A sharp crack echoed in the silent room. The agony of a broken bone shot up my arm, and the blood drained from my face. I stared at my mother in disbelief. The last flicker of hope in my heart died. I bit down on my lip, sweat dripping onto the floor. One finger wasn’t enough, so they broke a second, then a third… Just as my vision started to go black, Lary’s phone rang, a shrill, urgent sound. “Mr. Croft, we’ve found Ms. Shaw.” The words were my salvation. I was tossed aside, a broken doll on the floor. All ten of my fingers were twisted at unnatural angles, swollen and black. My mother and Lary heaved a collective sigh of relief. The smiles returned to their faces, but they didn’t spare me another glance. As he was leaving, Lary paused. He looked back at me, crumpled on the ground. “Sign the divorce papers today. I don’t want my child to be illegitimate too.” The door slammed shut, the gust of wind it created sending the divorce agreement fluttering to the floor. Lary had already signed his name. The date beneath his signature was from seven years ago. The day after our wedding, he had already prepared for our divorce. I gasped for air, my phone screen lighting up the darkness. A flood of messages. A cold notification from my mother. A social media update from Lary, celebrating the return of his beloved. And one other message, from a stranger who had texted me without fail for seven years. “Lily, I’m coming home soon. If you’re willing, the offer I made seven years ago still stands…” 2 I sat there all night, motionless, until the first light of dawn broke through the windows. Then, I signed my name on the document. The marriage I had carefully protected for seven years had left me with nothing. I took the divorce papers to Lary’s company. As I stepped inside, several employees rushed out of the break room, their faces flushed. They bumped into me, their eyes full of a pity they couldn’t voice. Before I could react, a high-pitched moan echoed through the main office. Everyone immediately lowered their heads, pretending not to hear. My heart sank. I took a step forward, but my assistant quickly blocked my path. “Mrs. Croft, maybe you shouldn’t go in.” A crowd of employees had gathered, their stares burning into my skin. “Is this a first for Mr. Croft? In broad daylight, right here in the office…” “Ivy Shaw quit suddenly yesterday. He was going crazy looking for her. Now that he’s got her back, I guess he just couldn’t hold it in.” “I can’t believe Mrs. Croft is still with him. She has the patience of a saint.” “Well, she’s hopelessly in love with him, isn’t she?” My gaze fell on the office window. The blinds, usually open, were drawn shut. The sounds of their passion were unabashed. Through the slats, I could see clothes scattered on the floor. I slowly lowered my head, my eyes dry and aching. In our world of corporate marriages, there was an unwritten rule. Even after marriage, you could have your own life, your own affairs, as long as you didn’t interfere with each other. I thought Lary was different. But six months into our marriage, he changed. I had fought, I had screamed, I had threatened suicide. It all ended in mutual destruction. “Lily Thorne, not everyone’s heart stays the same forever.” “We’re still husband and wife. You’re free to pursue your own happiness too.” Lary’s words from long ago echoed in my ears. I looked at the closed office door, took a deep breath, and pushed it open. The onlookers scattered. The office was a mess. The framed photo of us that used to sit on his desk was now shattered on the floor. The lust hadn’t yet faded from Lary’s eyes. When he saw me, there was no panic. He kissed the corner of Ivy’s lips, his eyes mocking me. “Didn’t you know someone was in the office? Or do you have a habit of eavesdropping?” His aggressive questioning made my stomach churn. A wave of nausea rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down. Seeing my silence, Lary grew impatient. He gently pushed Ivy away and straightened his disheveled clothes. The angry red scratches on his chest were glaring. I looked away, my voice hoarse. “We need to talk.” “Sister, am I in your way?” Ivy suddenly interjected. She smiled at me, deliberately revealing the dark marks on her neck. As expected, Lary’s expression soured at her words. “Besides the divorce, we have nothing to talk about. Ivy is your sister. Why do you have to be so hostile towards her?” He rarely protected anyone so fiercely. Now, he was shielding Ivy behind him, his eyes wary. I sighed and placed the signed divorce agreement on the desk in front of him. When he saw my signature, his eyes widened in surprise. He snatched the document, scanned it carefully, and then let out a cold snort. “Good. You know what’s best for you. Even after the divorce, we can still be family.” “Don’t touch Ivy again. You don’t want Mom to disown you, do you?” With that, he took Ivy and left, as if my very presence was something he couldn’t stand. 3 I returned home, exhausted. My eyes fell on the unread message on my phone. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time before I finally typed a reply. “I’m willing.” I had always known who the sender was. Before I married Lary, there was another boy who had followed me, a silent shadow. The day I got married, he left the country. For seven years, the only contact had been birthday and New Year’s greetings. I had stubbornly held onto a failing marriage for seven years, blind to the one who was waiting for me. Suppressing the bitterness in my heart, I contacted a lawyer to start the process of dividing our assets. Not long after, the door was thrown open. My mother stumbled in, her face a mask of frantic anxiety. Before I could react, a heavy slap landed across my face. My mother collapsed beside me, sobbing. “Lily Thorne, you are a monster! Why can’t you change? Why can’t you just leave Ivy alone!” My ears were ringing. My lip was split, and blood dripped onto the floor. Lary grabbed me by the throat, his hoarse roars making my head spin. “Was it you? Did you send people to kidnap Ivy and Lary Junior? I just took my eyes off her for a second, and she was gone!” “What will it take for you to leave them alone?!” My mother held out a small box, her hands trembling. Inside was a severed finger. A child’s finger. It looked like it had just been cut. “Lily, Lary Junior is my only grandson. He’s been raised in secret all his life, bearing the shame of being illegitimate.” “Why can’t you even spare a child?” The lines on my mother’s face had deepened. She looked utterly exhausted. “I can’t let you continue down this path.” Once again, they didn’t listen to a word I said. Once again, they had already decided I was the mastermind behind the kidnapping. My mother called the police. Without a second thought, she had me sent to a detention center. To break me, she had them use “enhanced interrogation techniques.” The electric baton slammed into my body. I convulsed, my eyes rolling back in my head. My mother and Lary watched without a flicker of sympathy. My screams turned to whimpers, and finally to silence, my breath coming in shallow gasps. Then, a message came from the kidnappers. A video. Ivy and Lary Junior, blindfolded and tied to chairs. They were covered in blood. The child looked lifeless. The sight made my mother nearly faint. Lary’s face was ashen. He snarled at the kidnapper on the screen. “How much do you want? We’ll give you anything. Just don’t hurt my son—” The kidnapper laughed. “You want to save your son? Fine. A life for a life.” “Break Ms. Thorne’s legs and bring her here in exchange.” My mother and Lary froze. They both turned to look at me. I could no longer speak, only manage a weak, broken plea. “Mom… it wasn’t me…” A flicker of hesitation crossed my mother’s eyes. But then, Ivy’s desperate cries came from the video. “Mom! Lary! Come save Lary Junior! He’s not going to make it!” “Sister, I’m begging you, he’s just a child!” The hesitation in their eyes vanished, replaced by grim resolve. Lary picked up a nearby chair and advanced on me. My heart plummeted. I looked at him, my eyes pleading. “Lary, you can’t do this to me.” He gritted his teeth and brought the chair down on my knees with all his might. Again and again. My legs were shattered. I collapsed to the floor, a useless heap. Lary pulled me into a tight embrace, his voice trembling. “Lily, forgive me. I can’t live without Ivy. When you come back safely, I will spend the rest of my life atoning for this.” My mother wiped her tears and looked at the kidnapper on the screen. “We’re bringing her to you now. You must let my daughter and grandson go, unharmed!”

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