At Crestwood Prep, my only joy was eating in the cafeteria. When classmates called me a fat pig, I’d grin: “Mom’s the top hog breeder in our county.” Then bullies shoved scholarship student Ramona into my food tray. The cafeteria roared as she lifted her head, her gaze chilling. Text scrolled in my vision: [You’re screwed! The heroine’s going dark! In 10 years, she’ll kill everyone here.] I hiccuped in terror. Lose my lunch and get murdered later? Ramona staggered away as the chat pitied her: [Bullying gave her anorexia. Only the male lead cures her—she stays loyal even when he hurts her.] Key detail: Cure her anorexia = Survive. I called Mom: “Got a project—an 80-pound ‘piglet.’ Pretty skinny one.” 1 “What? Son, isn’t that a little… lean for a pig?” My mom, a professional livestock breeder, sounded unimpressed. “Slip of the tongue, slip of the tongue!” I corrected myself. “Not a pig, a person. A scholarship student at my school. She’s so skinny you can count her ribs.” “Ribs?” my mom’s voice immediately brightened. “Now those are delicious! Great in a soup, or braised…” “Mom!” “Misheard you, misheard you! It’s noisy over here. So, you’re raising a classmate, not a pig, right? No problem! You bring her home, and I guarantee I’ll have her fattened up to a hundred and sixty pounds and ready for market in no time!” Hearing my mom’s promise, I breathed a massive sigh of relief. With her on the case, Ramona’s anorexia should be manageable, which meant my life was no longer on the line. I took off at a full sprint and caught up with Ramona. “Hey, classmate! Want to come over to my place for dinner?” The girl, who looked like a walking stick, slowly turned. Her school uniform was still stained with the gravy from my lunch tray. Her eyes were hollow, a ghost in a school uniform. At my invitation, she let out a cold, bitter laugh. “What’s this? Some new kind of prank?” I waved my hands frantically. “No, you’ve got it all wrong! I’m not with them. I just… you look a little thin. I wanted to invite you to my house for a meal.” Ramona acted as if she hadn’t heard me, turning to walk away. I rushed after her, pleading with all my heart. “Ramona, the food at my house is amazing! If you don’t believe me, just smell your uniform.” Hesitantly, she pinched the fabric of her shirt and gave it a tentative sniff. “See? Smells good, right? Today I had braised chitterlings, and the sauce is my mom’s secret…” Before I could finish, Ramona stumbled over to a wall and retched violently. I was stunned. Chitterlings are a delicacy! Why would she throw up? I crept closer, offering her a tissue with a smile. “Actually, it wasn’t chitterlings. It was pig’s head stew.” “Blech!” She threw up again. “Okay, okay, not stew either. It was offal soup!” “…” This time, Ramona didn’t vomit. She just passed out cold. The live chat reappeared in my vision. [Holy crap, is this guy for real? He knows she hates pork and he just keeps listing pig parts!] [Ramona: Looks like she’s breathing, but I think her soul just left her body.] [This side character has to be doing this on purpose, right? This is some next-level psychological torture!] [Forget physical bullying, this dude attacks the soul!] Feeling wronged, I called my mom. The second she picked up, I started wailing. “Mom! Someone hates pigs! Pigs are so cute, how could anyone hate pigs?!” 2 After I finished my tearful rant, I realized Ramona was still unconscious on the ground. With a sigh, I went to help her up. A well-meaning student came over and asked if I needed a hand. But before he could even finish his sentence, I had already hoisted Ramona onto my shoulder. I gave her a little bounce. She was way too light. Eighty, maybe eighty-five pounds, tops. The student stared, a bit awkwardly. Then, his curiosity got the better of him. “Luke, how are you so strong?” I scratched the back of my head, a little embarrassed. “Grew up carrying piglets. You just get used to it.” I took Ramona to the school infirmary, asked the nurse to get her into a clean set of clothes, and put everything on my tab. That’s the one downside to an elite academy—everything costs a fortune. Thank God for the stack of supplementary black cards my mom gave me. The school nurse put Ramona on an IV drip, her brow furrowed. “This student is suffering from severe malnutrition. If this continues, her prognosis is not optimistic.” I nodded in solemn agreement. “How about you write her a medical leave slip? I can take her home to recover.” Just as the nurse was about to write it, Ramona’s eyes fluttered open. “No,” she said, her voice sharp and final. She tried to pull the IV needle out of her arm. I quickly stopped her. “Ramona, your health is in a really dangerous state right now.” “Look, how about this? You come home with me. I’ll cover your food and housing, and I’ll even pay you a monthly salary. Just… be my personal tutor.” Ramona’s eyes were filled with suspicion. Even the nurse chimed in, “Luke, you know that human trafficking and fraud are illegal, right?” I stomped my foot in frustration. “It’s not a scam, it’s real!” Ramona sneered. “Do you rich people just get off on using your money to trample on other people’s dignity? My life may be worthless, but I won’t accept your humiliating charity!” She threw back the blanket and tried to get out of bed. I was out of options. I had to resort to my mom’s ultimate move. I tossed a card onto her blanket. “There’s ten thousand on this. Come back with me and have one meal.” Ramona froze. I threw down another card. “Fifty thousand.” The nurse cleared her throat. “Luke, is your family perhaps looking to hire a…” “Nope.” The nurse shook her head in disappointment. Just as I was about to throw down a third card, Ramona picked up the first one. Her head was bowed, her expression hidden. “Are you serious?” Her voice was as soft as a feather landing on snow. “Of course!” Ramona looked up, a faint glimmer of light in her eyes. “Then we sign a contract.” “Deal!” We were both in agreement. The live chat, however, was not. [What is this side character doing? Corrupting the heroine with money? And the heroine, seriously, giving in so easily!] [Her dad’s dead, her mom ran off, and the grandma who raised her is critically ill. She’s desperate for money!] [If I could be corrupted by a black card, I’d be open to it…] [Agree.] [Same here.] [Couldn’t agree more.] 3 We signed the contract in my Rolls-Royce, parked just outside the school gates. After signing, Ramona’s gaze on me grew even more complicated. She lowered her head, a self-deprecating smile on her lips. “I’ve taken your money. Now you can humiliate me however you want.” As she spoke, she took my hand and pressed it against her own cheek, her expression vacant. “Hit me as you please. I won’t fight back.” A button on her shirt was undone, and through the gap, I could see angry red marks on her skin. I snatched my hand back as if I’d been electrocuted, shaking it out. “No, no, no! I’m not into hitting people.” Ramona looked at me, her eyes filled with confusion and disbelief. “You gave me the money so you could take out your frustrations on me, right? Or… do you have something even worse in mind?” I was taken aback. I never imagined that’s how she would see things. What on earth had she been through to become this way? “Ramona, your grades are incredible. I’m paying you to tutor me!” Her eyes remained wary, as if the world had never shown her an ounce of kindness. I let out a breath and extended my hand with a smile. “Let’s start over. I’m Luke, from class 2-B. It’s a pleasure to meet you properly.” Ramona hesitantly shook my hand. “Ramona. Class 1-A.” I brought Ramona to my house. Not long after, my mom came home. She had a jade pendant the size of a car air freshener hanging around her neck and two or three thick gold bracelets on each wrist. From head to toe, she screamed one thing: nouveau riche. And she was. That’s why I never talked back when the kids at school called me a rich brat. They were right. Besides, I didn’t see it as an insult. Plenty of people would kill to be nouveau riche. Mom was thrilled to see Ramona. “Well hello there, young lady!” She slapped Ramona on the shoulder, a friendly gesture that sent the poor girl into a fit of coughing. “Mom!” I yelped, rushing to pour Ramona water and pat her back. I tried to smooth things over. “Ramona, please don’t be mad! My mom doesn’t mean any harm, she’s just… got a bit of a strong hand.” If Ramona got angry and added my mom to her future kill list, it would be a disaster. The world of animal husbandry would lose a shining star. Ramona, her face flushed from coughing, just shook her head. “It’s okay, I’m fine.” My mom pulled me aside. “Son, you’ve never brought a classmate home before, especially not a girl! And seeing how nervous you were… don’t tell me you…” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. I didn’t disappoint, nodding firmly. “You’re right, Mom. I like her.” “So, I need you to do whatever it takes to get her healthy, happy, and well-fed!” My mom immediately snapped a salute. “Yes, sir, young master!” When it came to animal husbandry, I trusted my mom completely. When she was young, she raised pigs back in our home county. She was so good at it they called her the Pig Whisperer. Not a single pig she sold weighed less than three hundred pounds. Later, a few colorful birds showed up in our yard. Mom just tossed them some feed on the side. Before we knew it, our yard was overrun. Just as she was about to whip me up a nice pheasant stew, some officials from the city showed up. Turns out they weren’t just any birds; they were a critically endangered species of pheasant. The same birds that experts were struggling to keep alive were thriving and multiplying under my mom’s care. After that, my mom started raising everything. Now, our family owns dozens of large-scale wildlife parks and conservation centers across the country. Ordinary animals come to us and get fattened up like prize hogs before having a dozen babies. Rare animals breed like they’re trying to become an invasive species. If she could handle all those tricky animals, I had no doubt she could handle one skinny girl named Ramona. 4 Ramona, taking her new role as my tutor seriously, started spreading her textbooks out on the dining table, ready to begin my lesson. While she wasn’t looking, I quietly whisked the stack of worksheets and review books away. When Ramona turned back, the papers she had just laid out were gone. She looked around, confused, even checking under the table. “In our house,” I explained quickly, “the dining table is a sacred space. Mundane things like books and papers are not allowed to defile it.” It was a bizarre excuse, and Ramona stared at me for a long moment. I suspected the top chemistry student was trying to analyze the elemental composition of my brain. Before she could produce a new set of worksheets, my mom started bringing out the food. With a platter of Lobster Thermidor in her left hand and a tureen of seared foie gras in her right, she bellowed, “Dinner’s served!” She set the dishes down with a flourish. She winked at Ramona. “Luke told me you don’t like pork, so tonight is a Pork-Free Fiesta!” The name was definitely her creation. Ramona stared at the two extravagant dishes, stunned. After a moment, she stammered, “Isn’t this… a little too much food?” My mom’s use of stainless steel serving platters the size of hubcaps had clearly intimidated her. I was about to explain when our household staff began to march in, a parade of culinary excess. “Roast duck, one whole!” “Bouillabaisse, one tureen!” “Roasted leg of lamb, one!” … I think Ramona’s brain short-circuited. Dish after magnificent dish was placed before her. Things that flew in the sky, ran on the ground, and swam in the sea were all present on our table. Ramona slowly turned to me, her eyes wide with undisguised shock. I held up one of her confiscated worksheets. “See? I told you. No room for study materials on the table.” She frowned, looking completely baffled. The live chat started laughing at me. [Hahaha, he really messed up! The heroine can’t stomach anything rich or meaty at this stage! And he serves her a feast of flesh.] [Does he really think her anorexia is that easy to cure? Only the male lead has the magic touch!] Ramona opened her mouth to speak, but I shot up from my seat. “Wait! I know what you’re going to say!” I turned to my mom, my expression more determined than ever. “Mom, change of plans! Swap out the menu!” Ten minutes later, the table was a sea of green. Several of the salads looked like they’d been plucked from the garden moments ago. I presented a pair of chopsticks to Ramona with both hands, flashing a triumphant smile. “Ramona, please, eat whatever you like.” Who are you kidding? I thought. We’re professional breeders. We can produce any kind of food on demand. That night, Ramona only managed a few bites. My mom and I, on the other hand, ate a field’s worth of salad. Our household staff got the full multi-course feast. As Ramona ate, she took tiny, delicate bites, her brow constantly furrowed as if swallowing was a monumental effort. When it was time for her to leave, I couldn’t stop staring at her. I followed her every move, terrified she might throw up the few precious lettuce leaves she’d managed to eat. Finally, at the door, she couldn’t stand it anymore and asked. “Luke, that thing you said earlier… were you serious?” I blanked. I’d said so many things. Which one was she talking about? Ramona took a deep breath, her slender fingers twisting the hem of her uniform until the fabric was mangled. Her eyes darted around, nervous sweat beading on her forehead. “The part where you said… you… you like me…”

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At the New Year’s Eve gala, my brother, who was supposed to sing, suddenly lost his voice. He was humiliated in front of a national audience. Everyone thought I was the one who drugged him. Even my fiancée joined the crusade to avenge him. Sophia Carlisle cut off all my resources without a second thought. The glory I had fought for for three years was snatched away by her own hands. My stage name, “Zane,” was registered as her trademark; I couldn’t use it commercially without her permission. My songs were reclaimed by the company; without her signature, I no longer had the right to sing them. She even branded me as the other man, accusing me of interfering in their relationship. My moment at the top was shorter than a firework display. 1 While I was being torn to shreds by a relentless storm of online hate, Leo Kane made a high-profile announcement of his relationship. He posted a photo from his hospital bed, no makeup, looking pale but serene. “Sorry to have worried everyone. The doctor says my voice will be fine after half a month of rest. Also, a little update for you all: we’re back together!” In the photo, the notoriously private and never-photographed female CEO was there, her head bowed as she carefully peeled an apple. That woman was my fiancée, Sophia Carlisle. When my parents heard the news, they rushed to the hospital. Over the phone, they refused to listen to a single word of my defense. My mother, hysterical with anger, spat out words she couldn’t take back. “Zane, how could I have raised such a vicious son! If you have any conscience left, you’ll come down here and apologize to your brother right now!” A paparazzo recorded the call and posted it online. Now, the entire internet was convinced. The evidence was irrefutable. I, Zane, was the villain who had drugged his own brother, Leo, during a live New Year’s broadcast because I was afraid of being outshone. And I, Zane Kane, was also the homewrecker who had come between Leo and the CEO of Carlisle Entertainment, serving as his substitute for five years only to tear them apart. “Having a brother like that, Leo Kane must have the worst luck in the world!” “I used to like Zane, but I had no idea he was such a scumbag!” “The other man, and he probably poisoned his own brother? This guy needs to be kicked out of the entertainment industry! Canceled, for good!” I had no way to defend myself. One man’s plea of innocence was a whisper against the hurricane of manufactured outrage and boycotts. All my endorsement deals were terminated. The brands I had signed with demanded compensation. Every penny I had earned over three years was gone, paid out in damages. I was left buried in debt. Perhaps seeing how pathetic I had become, or perhaps wanting to sever ties completely, Sophia finally stepped in and covered the remaining payments. When Leo found out, he wasn’t angry. He was magnanimous. He handed Sophia a bank card with a million dollars on it. “It’s not much, but it’s a gesture,” he said. “Sophia, please tell Zane for me that I don’t hold a grudge. In fact, I’m grateful to him. He gave you back to me, and that’s more important than anything.” “Also, tell him to come home when Mom and Dad have cooled down.” The victor stood alone on his pedestal, basking in the glow of our parents’ favoritism and his lover’s devotion. And me? After years of silent suffering, I was still nothing more than a stray dog kicked to the curb. 【It’s a shame you can’t be here to share my joy.】 【Sophia is throwing a celebration party for me. Want to come?】 The text was from Leo. He was always like this, effortlessly flaunting his perfect life. He was the heir to a wealthy dynasty, the cherished “white moonlight” of a powerful CEO, the successful protagonist of his own story. Even strangers couldn’t help but envy him. “Leo Kane truly has it all!” 2 And I was a rat, crawling through the gutter. No matter how hard I had worked, it was all worthless now. When I didn’t reply, Leo even put on a show at his party, his face a mask of guilt and sadness. “Zane didn’t reply. Is he still angry with me?” Sophia’s expression was unreadable. “If he doesn’t want to come, then don’t worry about him.” Leo and I are fraternal twins. Growing up, he was better than me at everything. I used to wonder if my genes were defective. Compared to my mediocrity, his life was on easy mode. My parents groomed him to be the heir. I was the invisible one, which suited me just fine. It meant freedom. The only thing I was good at, the only place I had any talent, was music. It was Sophia who approached me first, back in our first year of high school. I had just won the school’s singing competition, and she, as the student council president, presented me with the award. Under the spotlight, for the first time, I felt like I had stepped out of Leo’s shadow. I even found a sliver of confidence. As the heiress to Carlisle Entertainment, Sophia took an interest in me. We started spending more time together. I knew Leo was infatuated with Sophia. So when he suddenly developed an interest in music, something he had always scorned, I wasn’t surprised at all. Soon enough, they became the couple everyone envied. After graduation, Sophia offered me a contract with Carlisle Entertainment. That was also the year Leo abruptly rejected the golden path our parents had laid out for him. He vanished, spending six years abroad completely off the grid. Our family was thrown into chaos. Sophia, usually so composed, was devastated. Six years later, when Leo returned, he was a graduate of the Berklee College of Music. With a single tear, he made our relieved parents forget every harsh word they’d planned, and made my fiancée, Sophia, begin to waver, consumed by a guilt she had carried for years. That one tear effortlessly stole everything from me. Now, Leo was basking in the adoration of the public, his name trending on every headline, while I was holed up in a company-owned apartment, teaching myself to write songs. 【The malicious slander, twisted and turned for sport. The years of hard work, dismissed with a careless flick of the wrist.】 My account with ten million followers had long been banned. I started a new one under my real name, Zane Kane, and began uploading my original work. Within half a day, every track was taken down due to malicious reports. The second year of my blacklisting by Sophia. I had no songs to sing, no shows to book. The company gave me zero resources. My manager and assistant were taken away. My contract was a prison, preventing me from even taking on small commercial gigs. My performances were censored, my face blurred out in variety show appearances. As a “disgraced artist,” all my accounts were silenced. Even my burner account on a short-video app was swarmed by haters until it was locked. Meanwhile, under Sophia’s protection, Leo won the “Best New Artist of the Year” award at the National Music Awards. The third year of my blacklisting. Leo competed on Celestial Voice, the top music competition show in the country, and won the title of “King of Singers.” My five-year contract with Carlisle Entertainment finally expired. I did not renew. My former manager, Anna, heard the news and rushed over to persuade me. “Ms. Carlisle is on a business trip in Paris. Why don’t you wait until she gets back?” I knew she was in Paris. In the family group chat I had muted, Leo, who was on vacation with her, was posting photos of their trip almost daily. Seeing my indifference, Anna grew anxious. “Zane, I heard from the higher-ups that before Ms. Carlisle left, she told people to start preparing for your comeback next year. You’ve endured for three years. We’re so close to the finish line. Wouldn’t it be a shame to leave now?” 3 Carlisle Entertainment was a top-tier company, a titan of the industry with immense power, connections, and resources. It was the first choice for countless musicians. But after three years of being crushed under its heel, how could I possibly stay? I continued to organize my lyrics and compositions. Anna pleaded, “Zane, you have to think this through. Once you leave Carlisle, your stage name, your songs—they’re all gone. Are you really willing to let them go?” My hand froze. It was a question I had asked myself a thousand times during a thousand sleepless nights. I didn’t even dare to casually play the songs I had sung countless times. The moment my fingers touched the keys and the intro began, the grief would overwhelm me, and tears would stream down my face. The moment they became a tool for someone to control me, they were no longer mine. I pushed the door open and left without another look back. Anna chased me to the entrance, frantic. “Zane, if Ms. Carlisle doesn’t give the okay, no one in this industry will dare to sign you!” I didn’t turn back. There was nothing here worth looking back for. That night, my phone vibrated. A message from Sophia. 【Have you made up your mind?】 I didn’t reply. I became a spinning top, whipping myself into a frenzy. I started running, constantly moving. I knew it would be hard. Even though three years had passed, no company in the country would dare to sign a disgraced artist like me. Even without Carlisle’s direct pressure, the hashtag #ZaneGetOutOfShowbiz was still trending. “Zane, you’re still singing?” “Sorry, Mr. Kane, but this is a fan-driven market. Our company isn’t willing to take the risk.” “Mr. Kane, we recognize your talent, but our company has a lot of partnerships with Carlisle Entertainment, so…” I walked out of the last agency into a downpour. A curtain of rain blurred the world in front of me. Defeated, I opened my umbrella, a lone black boat adrift in a sea of rush-hour commuters at a crowded intersection. I knew starting over would be difficult. I just didn’t realize it would be impossible. To get a gig, I drank glass after glass with a wealthy female producer. She draped her arm around my shoulders, her touch too familiar. She kissed my cheek, her audacity breathtaking. I ended up hunched over a toilet, vomiting until my throat was raw and bitter. “Don’t be a fool. They’re just messing with you. Who would dare to use you now?” her assistant said, finishing her makeup and glancing at my limp form in the mirror. My head was bowed, my hair a mess. The world was a blur of squalor. I don’t know what happened to me these past two years, but the tears just wouldn’t stop. The moment I looked down, they would fall, relentless and free. I closed my eyes, hot, searing tears pooling in my sockets before spilling over, plunging into a hopeless abyss. The assistant, a woman I’d only just met, seemed to struggle with herself for a moment before pinching her nose and helping me up. “You should go. If you stay any longer, it won’t just be about drinking.” The next day, my name was in the headlines. BREAKING: FORMER POP STAR ZANE REDUCED TO SINGING AT DINNER PARTIES FOR A COMEBACK! The video showed me at the request of a drunk, wealthy woman, standing in front of a crowd, singing an a cappella version of my debut hit, “Radiant Days.” Everyone else was blurred out. Except me. I knew what these women were about, their cruel little games. I could even see the sickening lust in some of their eyes. But I stood up and sang anyway. What if it was a chance? I just didn’t expect that my leaving early would anger someone. They sent the casually recorded video to a gossip account for sport. “So Zane has become a rich woman’s plaything?” “Say what you will, but his three-octave high notes are still unmatched.” “Hate to admit it, but the comment above is right.” “How dare this jinx show his face again? Shouldn’t you just fade into obscurity with your precious master? Why do you have to come out and disgust people?” 4 “That’s just what homewreckers do. They’ll do anything for fame and fortune.” When public opinion decides to destroy someone, they see that person’s very existence as a mistake. My father’s call came for the first time in three years. He launched into a tirade. “Zane, are you not going to stop until you’ve completely disgraced the Kane family name?” I hung up. I didn’t want to hear any more. I drew the heavy curtains in my rented apartment, blocking out the sunlight that seemed to mock me, and buried myself completely under the covers. Five hours after the scandal broke, I got a call from Sophia. “Zane, you really know how to piss me off.” Her voice was devoid of any warmth in the darkness. I heard that the usually stoic CEO, Ms. Carlisle, had been uncharacteristically furious during a financial report meeting today for some unknown reason. In the room, the only light was the name “Sophia Carlisle” glowing on my phone screen, so bright it hurt my eyes. “I’m asking you one last time. Are you coming back or not?” Her voice was as cold and unyielding as I remembered. “Sophia, do you still think I was the one who drugged him?” My hand gripping the phone was nearly white. “Does it matter?” she retorted. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. A profound sense of powerlessness washed over me. She was right. It didn’t matter. To her, nothing I did mattered as much as a single one of his tears. My efforts, my explanations—they were all meaningless. I hung up, feeling as if I had been plunged into an icy abyss. It was only then that I realized the truth. The truth had never mattered to Sophia. The six years Leo was gone had bound her to him with chains of guilt. As long as he wanted something, she would give it to him, no matter the cost. The screen went dark. I stared at the ceiling, the hair at my temples soaked with bitter, cheap tears. At 21, I became an overnight sensation with “Radiant Days.” After three years of hard work, my fanbase, the “Lucky Stars,” was a sea of people. Now, at 26, I was trapped in the mud, unable to move. I thought sacrificing my dignity would buy me a chance. I thought enduring the humiliation would lead to a better tomorrow. But in the end, I had only fallen into a deeper, filthier pit. All my struggles, in their eyes, were just the pathetic, self-inflicted failures of a desperate man. I threw an arm over my eyes and let out a wretched, hollow laugh. I laughed until tears streamed down my face, laughed until my body shook. This past year had been agony. In a swamp of despair, I wrote a rock song stained with my own blood. 【They throw mud at me; I use the mud to grow lotuses.】 The track was still reported and shadow-banned. The song still went unheard. The fourth year of my blacklisting. Leo won “Best Male Artist of the Year.” His concert tour sold out arenas from the mainland to the Hong Kong Coliseum. Forbes named him the most commercially valuable male artist in the country. And then, at the height of his fame, Leo announced his retirement from music. He said he was just “playing” in the entertainment industry. Now that he had achieved a grand slam of music awards, he was going back to fulfill his promise to help his parents run the family company. At his final, sold-out farewell concert, Leo sat on a throne in a custom Pronovias suit, looking out over the sea of faces like a king. He was handsome, radiant as the morning sun. “Actually, I’ve been waiting for someone,” he said into the mic. “I want to ask a certain lady, tonight, are you willing to let me be your groom?” The atmosphere exploded. The giant screen split. On the right was Leo on stage, his eyes full of anticipation. On the left was Sophia, in a special VIP seat, her expression completely unreadable. In the end, the crowd witnessed a fairytale moment as the dark knight walked toward his princess. The screams nearly blew the roof off the dome. This “winning the beautiful bride” finale was the perfect end to Leo’s music career. 5 Fans posted videos of the concert online, hailing it as an “epic, perfect farewell.” Countless people witnessed their happiness. The music I had chased with every fiber of my being was just a fleeting, whimsical experience in Leo’s brilliant life. Now that he’d had his fun, he was going back to inherit his billion-dollar fortune and marry the love of his life. In the face of their happiness, all my resentment and frustration, all the lyrics and melodies I had written, seemed ridiculous, meaningless. My life was a complete and utter failure. I couldn’t write another song. The fifth year of my blacklisting. Sophia and Leo held their wedding of the century. Leo personally delivered an invitation to my home. I didn’t go. I got drunk, so drunk I collapsed in an alley behind a bar. The night was pitch black, a hopeless void. My heart was empty. I didn’t feel sad, just an overwhelming sense of being lost. The next day, the morning light spilled onto me. A woman selling breakfast from a street cart tossed a large meat bun at me. She was a whirlwind of activity amidst the steam and sizzle of her stall. “Get up, will ya? A big guy like you, lyin’ around here? Don’t block my business!” Holding the bun, I inexplicably thought of the assistant who had pulled me up from the bathroom floor. Two complete strangers, living their own lives, with no connection to each other. Yet they had both shown me a sliver of kindness. Tears welled up in my eyes. I had faced so much blatant cruelty that I had begun to hate the world and my own fate. For years, I had been a tireless madman, desperately craving success, hard and unyielding as a stone. All because I wanted to prove something to the people who had wronged me, who had mocked me. I wanted to see them repent, to see them in pain. But in the end, I discovered the truth. They didn’t care. If I died in the street right now, no one would notice. Maybe that was the real reason I had shattered. It wasn’t until today, staring at the sun through the steam of a food stall, that I finally understood what it meant to be alive.

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The campus belle, pure and principled, swatted the black card from the rich boy’s hand. “Don’t insult me with your dirty money!” I, being even more destitute, picked up the card that had landed at my feet. I carefully handed it back to the rich boy, Caleb Thornton. Caleb’s eyes swept over me. “You convince Riki to take the card,” he said, his voice low and bored, “and I’ll sponsor you, too.” Afraid the card might actually end up with me, Riki snatched it. And just like that, both Riki and I began receiving financial support from the Thornton family. The difference was, I got my sponsorship by groveling to Caleb. Riki got hers with Caleb groveling to her. Years later, Riki went abroad for her master’s, and I started my career. Caleb pulled me into his bed and made me her substitute. Until the day Riki returned. “Riki’s a little uncomfortable knowing about us,” he told me. “You should go find a boyfriend.” I said, “Okay.” 1 No one knew Riki was coming back early. The night before, Caleb and I had been tangled in the sheets until the early hours. I fell asleep curled in his arms. The next morning, a message buzzed on his phone. He shot up in bed, ripping the covers off me. I was completely naked. The sudden cold made me shiver, and I mumbled without opening my eyes, “What’s wrong?” “Riki’s back. Get up, now. Clean this place up, erase every trace of yourself from this room. I don’t want her to find anything. Hurry.” He was already pulling on his pants, his voice urgent and sharp. I was wide awake now. I sat up, acutely aware of my own naked, mark-covered body. The shame hit me like a physical blow. I felt like a dirty secret, a mistress who couldn’t be seen in the light of day—even though he and Riki had never officially been a couple. “Hurry up. I need you gone before I get back with her.” He strapped on his watch and, without another glance at me, strode out the door. After I’d meticulously tidied his apartment, I left quietly. Not long after, my phone rang. It was Caleb. “Riki’s back and she’s craving your cooking,” he said. “Come over and make dinner.” I paused. “Okay.” I returned to Caleb’s apartment, let in this time by the housekeeper. Riki was lounging on the sofa, dressed in an elegant but comfortable-looking loungewear set, the very picture of effortless beauty. “Ava, it’s been so long. You haven’t changed a bit,” she said, her greeting lazy but polite. I managed a small smile. “You’re even more beautiful.” Caleb emerged from the hallway. “Ava, get started on dinner. Riki’s getting hungry.” Riki smiled, shifting over to make room for Caleb beside her. “You know,” she sighed dramatically, “the one thing I missed desperately while I was abroad was your cooking, Ava. I’m so glad I can finally have it again.” Caleb chuckled. “See? If you’d come back sooner, you could have had it every day.” “Hmph,” she pouted. “I had to finish my degree. You’re always trying to distract me.” They bantered and laughed, their joy filling the room while I toiled in the kitchen, just as I had countless times before. After dinner, Riki went upstairs to rest in the room Caleb had always kept for her, right next to his. As she left, she asked if my room was still the small maid’s room downstairs. I said yes, but added that I had my own place now. A few days of this routine passed. As I was leaving one evening, Caleb stopped me. “Riki found out about us. She’s… a little uncomfortable.” “Ava, go find a boyfriend. It’ll put her mind at ease.” I stood there for a long moment, the words hanging in the air. Finally, I nodded. “Okay.” “I’ll do my best.” 2 Riki was hired at Stellar Corp, a key subsidiary of Thornton Holdings, which Caleb personally managed. The position of Associate Director in the Strategy Department, a role I had fought tooth and nail to achieve, suddenly had a new Director. She was my boss. I took a few team members to her office to walk her through our current projects. As she flipped through a file, she looked up at me. “Ava, could you get me a coffee?” The other two people in the room shot us a surprised look. They were clearly wondering why the new Director was asking her second-in-command to do a coffee run instead of her assistant. I just nodded. “Of course.” I had always known my place in our little trio. I was the add-on, the bonus prize. I was the lackey trailing behind them, the gofer who ran their errands. Even now, as adults, Riki’s attitude hadn’t changed, and I had learned to accept these small humiliations. On Friday, Caleb announced a get-together to welcome Riki back, telling me to be there early. As I approached the private room, I heard my name. I froze. “Caleb, are you really done with Ava for good?” one of his friends was asking. “What else? Just watch what you say later,” Caleb replied casually. “Don’t bring this up in front of Riki.” “Damn, Caleb, you’re a true romantic,” another voice chimed in. “From high school until now, it’s only ever been Riki. You were just using Ava as a stand-in, right? To keep your family off your case until you could make it official with the real deal.” “To be fair, Ava’s not bad,” the first friend mused. “She’s cleaned up well—good-looking, poised, nothing like that timid, mousy girl from high school. And she’s utterly devoted to Caleb, so obedient. Does anything he asks. You sure you want to let that go?” Caleb laughed. “I had no choice. Riki is my moon, the only one. Ava was a decent way to pass the time, I guess. She’s obedient, compliant.” “But now that Riki’s back, everything else has to be swept clean. I’m just waiting for her to officially say yes.” The friends erupted in laughter, praising his unwavering devotion. “Ava? Why are you just standing at the door?” Riki’s voice came from right behind me. 3 Everyone in the room turned to look. Seeing me, they remembered what they’d just been saying, and a wave of awkwardness rippled through the group. Even Caleb stiffened for a second, a rare sight. But when he saw my neutral expression and Riki walking toward him, he relaxed. He kicked the friend next to him, motioning for him to give up his seat for Riki. I walked in and quietly took a seat in the farthest corner. “Ava, what are you doing all the way over there? Come sit here!” Riki called out magnanimously. I shook my head with a smile. “It’s fine, I can see everything from here.” After the initial awkwardness, the party slowly came back to life with drinking games. Riki, having been away for so long, was rusty and lost several rounds. Caleb drank for her every time. At one point, someone laughed and said, “The last time I got that drunk, I made a total fool of myself. If it hadn’t been for Ava—” He cut himself off abruptly. The atmosphere turned tense for a split second before someone quickly changed the subject. Later, on my way back from the restroom, I heard familiar voices coming from the fire exit stairwell. “Hmph. I don’t like how familiar you and your friends are with Ava,” Riki said, her voice laced with displeasure. “Ava was part of our group for years, of course we’re familiar,” Caleb said, a note of weariness in his tone. “Besides, if you’d just agree to be with me, none of this would matter. You saw how they were all cheering for us tonight.” “Hmph. I’m still observing you,” she cooed. I quickly tiptoed past, making no sound. During a lull in the party, Caleb cornered me in the hallway. “How’s the boyfriend search going?” he asked immediately. He seemed to suspect I was just paying him lip service, and that my lack of action was affecting things with Riki. Impatience flickered in his handsome features. “I really am trying,” I said softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your way.” He looked at me, and for a moment, a hint of guilt seemed to cross his face. “Well… make sure you find someone suitable.” “I will.” 4 That weekend, I had dinner with Mark Thompson. We’d met through a corporate partnership. He was the Director of Marketing at his company, tall, good-looking, and had been pursuing me for a while. I hadn’t been interested, but… I sighed internally and forced myself to focus, to engage in conversation, to actually give this a chance. After a couple of dates, we grew more comfortable with each other. When Riki found out, she cornered me in the breakroom, her eyes wide with feigned surprise. “Wow, you already have a boyfriend? I thought you were so in love with Caleb you’d never be able to accept anyone else.” Her words were a casual, stinging slap. I felt my face flush. I forced a smile. “The past is the past. You have to move forward.” “Well, my birthday is this weekend. You should bring him,” Riki said with a bright smile. “Caleb will probably be happy to see you’ve found someone.” I nodded. “Okay.” … Caleb spared no expense for Riki’s birthday party. It was extravagant, a grand affair. Mark and Caleb exchanged pleasantries, Mark eagerly shaking Caleb’s hand and calling him “Mr. Thornton.” Caleb gave him a brief, assessing look, then glanced at me before giving a cool, noncommittal nod. After the main celebration, the party moved to the riverfront to watch the fireworks display Caleb had arranged for Riki, lighting up the entire southern skyline of the city. I watched them from a distance. Riki and Caleb stood in the best viewing spot, her eyes on the glittering sky, his eyes on her, a look of such tender devotion on his face he seemed ready to pluck the moon from the heavens for her. I looked at Caleb’s tall, imposing figure and saw it merge with the image of the arrogant, vibrant boy from all those years ago. The day he said he would sponsor me, he changed the course of my life. Back then, my gambler of a father kept showing up at school, trying to drag me out, trying to marry me off to a fifty-year-old limping widower to pay off his debts. One afternoon, he was beating me right at the school gates, and no one dared to intervene. Caleb saved me. “I said I’d sponsor you,” he’d declared, “and that means I’ll protect you.” He was the one who helped me escape my father for good. It was the Thornton family’s money that got me through high school and into the university of my dreams. My life finally began to have color. I knew I was just an accessory, a means to an end so Riki would accept his money, a runner he could keep by his side. But the boy who descended from the heavens in my dreams was also the moon I gazed up at. And in that moment, watching the brilliant fireworks explode and fade, I felt something inside me fizzle out and disappear along with them. 5 There was a disaster at the company. A structure at a venue Riki was in charge of collapsed, nearly injuring several major clients. Those clients and a few corporate partners immediately demanded compensation and terminated their contracts. Stellar Corp was hit with a flood of complaints and a full-blown credibility crisis. Thornton Holdings headquarters demanded an explanation, and heads were going to roll. Caleb summoned me to his office. Riki was in his arms, sobbing pitifully. When Caleb saw me, he hesitated. But then Riki tugged on his shirt, and he spoke. “Ava, Riki just got back. It’s her first time managing a venue this big, so it’s understandable she’d make mistakes. As the Associate Director, you should have been assisting her properly. This wouldn’t have happened if you had.” A bitter, ironic smile tugged at my lips. Everyone in the department knew Riki had rejected every single one of my suggestions. “Riki’s professional reputation can’t be ruined by this one incident,” he continued. “She has a bright future, she needs the clients’ trust. And I can’t have my father thinking she’s incompetent.” “You, on the other hand, have a great reputation with our clients, Ava. One mistake like this won’t affect you too badly.” “So, Ava… you’ll take responsibility for this one. Give the public and headquarters an answer.” “I’ll make it up to you later.” I listened to his words, my expression unchanging. I wasn’t even surprised. It was the same role I had played back in school. But still, I couldn’t help it. I stared at him, searching his face, hoping for even a flicker of regret. All I saw was him avoiding my gaze as he comforted Riki. “Forget it,” Riki sniffled, pulling away from him. “If Ava won’t do it, I’ll take the blame. I’ll just leave the country. I can’t stay here and be a disgrace.” “Riki,” Caleb said, pulling her back into his arms. He frowned at me. “Ava, is this really so difficult for you? You’re the best at handling these kinds of situations. Are you saying you won’t do it?” I watched his entitled, impatient expression. My lips moved. “Fine.” Caleb let out a breath of relief. He cooed at Riki, “See? It’s all sorted. Don’t worry. Ava will handle it. The partners trust her the most.” “Ava, thank you,” Riki said, offering me a faint, triumphant smile. I turned and walked out of his office. I went to headquarters. Mr. Thornton Sr. threw a file at my head and screamed at me for ten minutes. He ordered me to personally win back every partner, every client, and to cover all the damages. I left Thornton Holdings in disgrace and began the humiliating process of begging. I was belittled, mocked, and thrown out of offices. I bowed and scraped and pleaded for forgiveness. Finally, I posted a public apology on Stellar Corp’s official website and announced my resignation. My colleagues in the department knew the truth. They felt sorry for me, but they were powerless to say anything. I went to Caleb’s office one last time. “I know it’s been tough these past few days,” he said. “You don’t have to resign. I’ll give you paid leave. Take a good long rest.” I shook my head. “I want a permanent rest.” He sighed. “Fine. When you want to come back, just let me know.” I didn’t answer that. Instead, I said, “I’ve transferred some money to your account. It’s to repay you for your sponsorship and care over the years.” He sat up straight, stunned. “I never expected you to pay that back. You don’t have to.” I shook my head again. “I should. I’ve been saving up for this. Thank you, Caleb.” Thank you for giving me a new life with a single sentence. Thank you for saving me from hell. And thank you for finally giving me a reason to sever all ties, to leave without a single lingering feeling. Caleb stared at me. “Are you angry that I asked you to cover for Riki?” “I already explained, it would have had a huge impact on her career. You’ve been in the industry for years, everyone trusts you. You even handled the fallout perfectly.” “Why are you making such a big deal out of one little thing?”

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Every year on our anniversary, Vincent would send me 999 roses. This year, my four-year-old niece, Lily, was visiting. She was absolutely captivated by the enormous bouquet. Suddenly, she scampered over, tugging on my sleeve. “Auntie Maria,” she chirped, “there are nine hundred and ninety-eight flowers, right?” 1 I paused, then smiled, ruffling her hair. “No, sweetie, you miscounted. There are nine hundred and ninety-nine.” Lily pouted. “Nuh-uh! It’s nine hundred and ninety-eight!” Seeing the determination in her eyes, I knew I couldn’t just dismiss her. You have to show a child, not just tell them. “Alright then,” I said with a playful grin. “How about we count them all again, together? We’ll see who’s right.” Lily nodded eagerly. Twenty minutes later, I stared at the sea of roses spread across the floor. Nine hundred and ninety-eight. I felt a strange blankness. How could one be missing? Lily clapped her hands in triumph. “Auntie was wrong!” Snapping back to the present, I forced a smile. “You’re right, Lily-bug. You’re so smart! As a reward, how about a cookie tart?” She nodded so fast her head bobbed like a little bird. That evening, my sister Sophia came to pick up Lily. As she stood in the doorway, holding her sleeping daughter, she looked at me intently. “Ellie, is something wrong?” I flinched slightly but shook my head. Sophia didn’t press, just told me to call her if I needed anything. After I closed the door, the house fell silent. The last rays of the sunset spilled through the window, painting the floor in gold, but I was in no mood to appreciate it. I just sat on the sofa, lost in thought. It was just one rose. It was probably just a careless mistake at the florist. A simple miscount during packaging. But a knot of unease tightened in my gut. I couldn’t shake it. Night had fully fallen when Vincent finally came home. The house was dark. “Maria?” he called out, flipping the light switch. When the room flooded with light, he saw me on the sofa. “Hey, why are you sitting in the dark?” Before I could answer, he noticed the scattered roses on the floor. His brow furrowed in surprise. “What happened here? Did you take them apart?” I stood up, taking his jacket from him. “Lily did. She wanted to count them.” Vincent froze for a second. “Funny thing,” I continued, my voice carefully neutral. “There were only nine hundred and ninety-eight. One was missing.” He was unbuttoning his cuffs, his head bowed, so I couldn’t see his expression. After a moment, he looked up, shrugging it off. “The florist must have messed up. I’ll buy you another one tomorrow to make up for it.” He leaned in, kissed my forehead, and headed for the shower. I stood there, rooted to the spot. A scent lingered on him, not his usual cologne, but a pure, complex fragrance—a mix of countless different flowers. My heart clenched. A moment later, I found myself pulling his phone from his jacket pocket. In five years of marriage, I had never once checked Vincent’s phone. I’d always believed that a relationship without basic trust wasn’t worth having. This was the first time. I knew myself too well. If I didn’t put this doubt to rest, it would fester, becoming an unhealable crack in our marriage. His passcode was my birthday. It had never changed. I opened his messages and quickly found the contact for the florist. The name was “Alicia,” with a little hand-drawn sunflower as the profile picture. I tapped open their chat. The conversation was clean—just orders for bouquets, straightforward questions and answers. Nothing overtly flirtatious. But then I scrolled up. And up. My finger froze. He had been ordering from her for the last three years. That, in itself, wasn’t the problem. Vincent was a creature of habit; once he found something he liked, he stuck with it. The problem was that he had kept their entire chat history. Three full years of it. Vincent had a quirk: he obsessively deleted his chat logs to keep things tidy. It had once caused him to lose an important file and nearly torpedo a project. After that, he’d tried to be more careful, but he still rarely kept a conversation thread for more than a week. I was the only exception. From our first date to this very day, he had saved every single one of our messages, meticulously backing them up whenever he got a new phone. And now, there was a second exception. My hand started to tremble. Sometimes, a woman’s intuition is terrifyingly accurate. Taking a deep breath, I clicked on Alicia’s social media profile. It was mostly ads for her flower shop, but one post stood out. It was a photo of a slender hand holding a single rose. The caption read: Even a sliver of your heart is a precious gift. It was posted on our anniversary. Vincent hadn’t replied, but he had liked it. In that instant, a chilling cold seeped into my bones, as if I’d been plunged into a frozen lake. I don’t know how long I stood there. Vincent came out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry. He saw me with his phone and paused. Then he grinned, a teasing light in his eyes. “Maria, finally getting curious enough to check my phone?” 2 I turned to face him. There wasn’t a shred of guilt on his face, only playful amusement. For a split second, I felt a desperate urge to believe I was overthinking it all. I took a steadying breath, refusing to be pulled into a spiral of suspicion and anxiety. I held up the phone, showing him Alicia’s post. “One rose was missing from my bouquet,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “And this post was made on our anniversary.” I locked eyes with him. “Vincent, I need an explanation.” He looked genuinely surprised. “Honey, it’s just a coincidence.” “You liked her post,” I countered, my voice hardening. “And you’ve saved three years of your chat history with her.” The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. Finally, he sat down beside me, taking my hand. He sighed. “Maria, it’s not what you think.” “I saved the chat history to track orders,” he explained. “They messed up an order once and wouldn’t admit it, so I started keeping the logs as proof. As for the ‘like,’ it was just a mindless scroll. I probably didn’t even read the caption.” I said nothing. The excuse sounded plausible on the surface. But I knew Vincent. He had a visceral disdain for incompetence. He’d once transferred his own executive assistant for making a single, minor error. For Vincent to break his own rules for someone meant they were special. Seeing my silence, his brow furrowed. “Maria, don’t you have even a little faith in me?” I looked at him, my voice soft but firm. “If that’s the case, then delete her contact. We can find a new florist. That shouldn’t be a problem, right?” His expression shifted. “Maria, you really don’t trust me, do you?” I just stared at him, my silence an unyielding demand. His face contorted with a flicker of emotions before settling into a cold mask. He shot up from the sofa, his voice hard with what sounded like petulance. “Fine! Do whatever you want!” I nodded. Right there, in front of him, I deleted “Alicia” from his contacts. His face grew even darker. “Are you satisfied now?” he snapped. I didn’t answer. He snatched the phone back and stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him with a resounding bang. The fight went out of me, and I sank back onto the sofa, only then noticing how violently my hands were shaking. I stared at the closed bedroom door, a bitter smile twisting my lips. Was he angry because I’d overstepped? Or because I’d uncovered a secret he wasn’t ready to face? The next few days were a blur of icy silence. We were in a cold war. He didn’t try to coax me out of my anger like he usually would, and I didn’t press him further about Alicia. In my heart, I knew they probably hadn’t crossed a physical line. But they had absolutely shattered the boundaries of a normal professional relationship. On the tenth day of our standoff, I came home from work to find Vincent in the kitchen, wearing an apron. The aroma of cooking filled the air. He heard the door and turned, offering me a small smile as if the past ten days of tension had never happened. “Wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.” I stood there for a moment before turning toward the bathroom. As I passed the dining table, I stopped. There was a new bouquet of flowers, the brand card from a different, well-known florist dangling conspicuously, as if placed there for me to see. It wasn’t from Alicia’s shop. I understood immediately. This was his peace offering. His way of surrendering. I stood there for a long moment before taking the flowers and arranging them in a vase. When I came out of the bathroom, dinner was on the table. All my favorites. I stared at the spread, a wave of nostalgia washing over me. The last time Vincent had cooked for me was years ago, back when he was just starting his company. We’d poured every penny we had into the business. There was a time we were so broke, we’d stretch a single packet of ramen with plain noodles, just to have enough for two. He would always pick out all the flavored ramen bits and put them in my bowl. I’d been so moved back then. Thinking about it now, it was both pitiful and sweet. Then his company took off. He’d taken me to the finest restaurants, and we never had to huddle over a tiny table sharing a bowl of noodles again. But sometimes, I missed those days. Not the hardship, but the fierce, all-consuming love we had for each other back then. Now, we were on different career paths, shining in our own separate worlds. We had less and less to talk about. Maybe neither of us had noticed, but the moment our conversations started to dwindle, the first cracks in our marriage had already appeared. 3 The cold war between Vincent and me ended unspoken over that dinner. It wasn’t forgiveness. It was the weary compromise of adulthood, the necessity of turning a blind eye. If I were twenty, I would have slapped him across the face and walked out without a backward glance. But I was twenty-nine. The law firm I’d co-founded was in its crucial startup phase. Our partnership with Vincent’s company was a strategic move that maximized our profits. So, as long as he didn’t cross my ultimate line, I wouldn’t burn everything to the ground. I thought the incident was behind us. But two weeks later, while reviewing a case with a client, a wave of nausea hit me so hard I had to run to the bathroom, gagging over the toilet. A dreadful premonition washed over me. A trip to the doctor confirmed it. I was pregnant. I sat on the hard bench in the hallway, staring at the ultrasound report with a storm of emotions churning inside me. I was over two months along. The doctor said the baby was healthy. But the timing couldn’t have been worse. After a long while, I crumpled the report in my fist and took a deep, steadying breath. This wasn’t a decision I could make alone. Vincent was the father. He had a right to know, a right to be part of the choice. As I walked out of the clinic, the sun warm on my shoulders, a sliver of hope flickered within me. Maybe this was the universe giving us a chance to fix what was broken. I drove to his office. The young woman at the front desk recognized me, smiling brightly. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Hamilton.” I nodded, but my eyes were drawn to a long table against the wall. I froze. On the table sat a large cardboard box filled with single-stem roses, individually wrapped. The receptionist, skilled at reading people, noticed my gaze. “Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day,” she explained cheerfully. “Mr. Hamilton ordered a rose for every woman in the company. We just pick one up on our way out.” I barely heard her. My eyes were glued to the familiar, hand-drawn sunflower logo printed on the side of the box. After a moment that felt like an eternity, I managed to tear my gaze away. “Does he do this every year?” I asked, my voice a dry rasp. She thought for a second. “He started about three years ago.” A hammer slammed into my chest, the impact stealing my breath. An indescribable, acidic bitterness flooded my heart. I forced a weak smile and headed for the elevator. I was about to knock on Vincent’s office door when it swung open from the inside. A young, beautiful woman stepped out, a radiant smile on her face that instantly froze when she saw me. Silence. We stared at each other, no words needed. We both knew exactly who the other was. The silence drew Vincent’s attention. When he saw me, his face went pale. He instinctively moved to stand in front of Alicia, shielding her. “Maria, it’s not what you think,” he began, his words tumbling out in a rush. “She was just delivering the flowers. The Valentine’s order was placed ages ago, it couldn’t be canceled…” I held up a hand, cutting him off. “Vincent, stop. The excuses are just making you look pathetic.” His face darkened, as if I’d just insulted his very core. Before he could retort, Alicia stepped forward, her chin held high in defiance. “Ms. Bishop, that’s a horrible thing to say,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Mr. Hamilton and I have nothing to be ashamed of!” She bit her lip, then turned to look at Vincent with an expression of pure, heartbreaking adoration. “It’s all me. I’m the one who loves him, but he’s never once led me on. His heart belongs only to you! He’s a wonderful man, Ms. Bishop. You should treasure him.”

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I froze—there in the arcade was my husband, Hayden Blackwood, kneeling to tie a pink-haired girl’s shoelaces. The ruthless CEO now cradled her ankle as she kicked impatiently, his face full of submission. His friends laughed. “Damn, Mr. Blackwood looks hot kneeling! Princess Gigi trained him well!” I fled. At home, Hayden winced as I scrubbed off his tattoo: [Gigi’s Dog]—with a streak of pink dye matching her hair. “You’ve heard the rumors,” he said coldly. “I’m pursuing her. Track me again, and you won’t remain Mrs. Blackwood long.” My phone buzzed. A girlish voice chirped: “Aunty, don’t worry—a 37-year-old geezer isn’t my type anyway.” 1 The call ended with a peel of silvery laughter. I finally looked in the bathroom mirror and saw the tear tracks that had carved their way down my face. My assistant sent over the girl’s profile. Gigi Li, 19 years old. A middle-school dropout who smoked, drank, and got into fights. Besides a pretty face, the only thing she had going for her was her family background—a fact I wasn’t sure Hayden was even aware of. “Vivienne, does your husband have a sister? What’s with those pictures from the arcade?” My best friend, Summer, texted me a link. The photo was a crystal-clear shot of Hayden on one knee, tying Gigi’s shoelaces. The comments section had already exploded. [Isn’t that the CEO of Blackwood Industries? I thought he was an only child. How could he suddenly have a sister who hasn’t even graduated college?] [He’s obviously cheating. Mrs. Blackwood is, what, thirty-five? What man doesn’t prefer someone younger? I just didn’t expect Mr. Blackwood’s taste to be so… unique. He passed on all those high-society debutantes for an e-girl.] [Wow. So fifteen years as a model couple can’t compete with a little novelty?] I scrolled mechanically, each comment a needle in my heart. Fifteen years. From meeting in college to a strategic marriage that merged our family empires, everyone said we were a rare case of true love in the world of high society. How ironic it all seemed now. The next morning, just as I had for the past six years, I woke up at six on the dot to make breakfast. Hayden walked into the dining room as I was pouring his coffee. He glanced at the table and then, without warning, swept his arm across it, sending the plate crashing to the floor. Scalding coffee splashed onto the back of my hand. I flinched, my skin instantly turning red, a searing pain shooting straight to my heart. “Ah!” I bit down hard on my lip, my years of training in composure preventing me from crying out again. “Ten years. Every single day, it’s the same thing.” Hayden’s voice was as cold as ice. “Scrambled eggs and toast, black coffee. Even the placement on the plate has never changed.” I stared at my burned hand as he continued. “Look at you. You’re always like this.” “The same boring business suit, the same severe bun. Even your expression looks like it’s been measured and set.” He stepped closer, reaching out to pull my hair free from its bun. “Not a single strand out of place. You’re more of a doll than a person.” My hair fell around my face. I looked up at him. “Isn’t that what a socialite is supposed to be?” “Ha!” He laughed, a short, sharp sound. “That’s why I can’t stand it! Gigi cries, she laughs, she yells when she’s hurt, she jumps for joy when she’s happy. And you? You get burned like that and you don’t even make a sound. Are you a person or a machine?” I slowly knelt, picking up the broken shards of porcelain one by one. In that moment, I decided this sham of a marriage was over. But I needed to end it with dignity, not like this. “Vivienne, can’t you even argue?” I remained calm. “Miss Lee posted a video of you two drinking on her social media yesterday. She was quite impressive, chugging straight from the bottle.” A flicker of pride crossed Hayden’s face. “She’s real.” “Is she?” I honestly thought Hayden had lost his mind. At the charity gala, I had stood in heels for five hours, networking with every guest on his behalf, not even daring to drink too much water, all to maintain our perfect image. When a key partner backed out at the last minute, I led my team through three all-nighters to create a new proposal. The stress gave me stomach cramps so bad I was drenched in cold sweat, but I just popped a painkiller and kept working. And now. He thought some little girl who chugged beers at a club and threw tantrums could fill the role of the lady of the Blackwood estate? Had he been blinded by love, or did he simply believe that Blackwood Industries was now so powerful it no longer needed a composed, capable woman at its helm? 2 I watched him drive away. A moment later, a notification popped up on my phone. Hayden had just liked another post from my alternate account, “Jasmine.” I opened our chat. The last message was from him, sent late last night. Hayden: Sometimes, I feel like talking to you is the only time I’m truly alive. I’d created this account five years ago. We had just gotten married, and Hayden had stumbled upon it by chance. He’d started confiding in “Jasmine,” pouring out his thoughts and frustrations. I shut my phone off and walked into the closet. I looked at my reflection—the bespoke suit, the flawless makeup. This was the Mrs. Blackwood that Hayden needed. Poised, elegant, eternally proper. Hayden thought that in finding Gigi, he had discovered his true self. But he would never know that the person he connected with most deeply had been by his side all along. Just then, a man who had been a silent contact in my phone for years sent me a message, asking to meet. I stared at the name “Leo Lee” for a full ten minutes before typing out a single word: “Okay.” I met Leo at his racing club. Before I could even speak, he pulled out his phone, the screen displaying my “Jasmine” account. “So, Miss Spencer is even more beautiful in person. I have to admit, I’m a fan.” We’d seen each other countless times at galas and business meetings. “Let’s skip the pleasantries. You asked me here for a reason.” He snapped his fingers. “Want to try something really exciting?” Half an hour later, I was strapped into the passenger seat as Leo handled the wheel with one hand. The roar of the wind was almost louder than the engine. I clung to the seat, but as we took the most treacherous curve, a laugh escaped my lips. Leo shot me a surprised glance, then started laughing too. “Now I believe you’re the Jasmine from the internet.” It was late when I got home. The light in the foyer was on. Hayden was standing at the top of the stairs, his eyes fixed on the grease stain on my racing suit. A sarcastic smile twisted his lips. “Trying to be like Gigi now, playing race car driver?” I placed the pack of cigarettes I’d bought on the coffee table. The metal case made a sharp, clean sound. Hayden’s expression changed instantly. “A clumsy imitation.” He used an idiom I’d always hated. I calmly unzipped the racing suit. “If you feel I’m no longer suitable to be your wife, we can discuss a divorce.” He froze, then let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Vivienne, can you afford the humiliation? Isn’t the title of Mrs. Blackwood what you’ve always dreamed of?” He was right. I had dreamed of it. My father had said the Blackwoods were out of our league, but I had knelt in the rain for three hours until my mother agreed to try and arrange a meeting. The night before our engagement, Hayden’s own mother had warned me that the Blackwood family didn’t need a daughter-in-law; they needed a beautiful, capable ornament who could manage their public life. She had asked me if I could be eternally proper, if I could promise to never embarrass Hayden. Looking back, her careful planning had been utterly destroyed by her own son. “You’re the one who cares about the title,” I said, finally letting a small smile show. “Hayden, you’ve always been the one obsessed with appearances.” Without me, who else in our circle was a more suitable match? Back in my room, a message from Leo was waiting. “Sorry, Vivienne. I just found out about my sister and your husband.” I knew it was a polite excuse. He had asked me out today for two reasons: one, because of “Jasmine,” and two, because of his sister. I replied curtly: “See you at the jewelry gala.” That night, Hayden found “Jasmine” online and immediately started complaining. “My wife is being so unreasonable! She’s trying to get my attention by copying Gigi and going racing!” I let out a cold laugh and deleted the message. The next morning, the kitchen was silent. When Hayden came downstairs, the dining table was bare. No warm milk, no sandwich. “Where’s breakfast?” he asked, frowning. I was sitting on the sofa, reviewing the program for the jewelry gala. I didn’t look up. “Don’t you have hands?” He was taken aback for a moment, then sneered. “Copying Gigi again? How much have you been investigating her? Do you really think acting out like this will get my attention?” The memory of his message to “Jasmine” made my blood boil. The idiot actually thought I would imitate that little punk? I looked up at him, my voice dripping with a sarcasm I had never used with him before. “You’re overthinking it, Mr. Blackwood. I’ve just realized that serving a blind man is incredibly boring.” His face darkened instantly. “Vivienne, have you been getting a little too bold lately?” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I stood up and headed upstairs. Hayden followed, grabbing my shoulder. “Vivienne, I’m warning you, stay away from Gigi.” I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. He shoved me, and I stumbled backward, my foot missing a step. Thump! I tumbled down the stairs. A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen. I curled into a ball on the floor, a cold sweat instantly soaking my back. 3 Hayden stood at the top of the stairs, a flicker of panic in his eyes that was quickly replaced by cold indifference. “Stop pretending. It was only four steps. Are you trying to act like you’re dying?” I bit my lip, saying nothing, as I felt a warm trickle between my legs. “Hospital… take me to the hospital.” The pain was so intense I could barely form a sentence. Hayden’s expression finally changed. He scooped me up and rushed toward the door, but his phone rang halfway there. “Gigi’s in a holding cell? Okay, I’m on my way.” He dumped me at the hospital entrance, told a nurse, “She took a fall,” and then turned and left. In the emergency room, the doctor took off his mask. “It was a threatened miscarriage. We’ve managed to save the baby, for now.” Lying in the hospital bed, staring at the white ceiling, I started to laugh. Hayden would never know what he had thrown away today. I forced myself to get up and go to the jewelry gala. The suit I had personally ironed for Hayden was now folded neatly under Gigi’s bare legs. She was holding a bowl of spicy noodle soup, the red broth filled with cilantro—the one herb he despised. Love really does make you tolerant. “Vivienne! You must be Hayden’s wife, right?” “Come eat with us!” Gigi waved at me, her pink sequin dress glittering under the lights. I only then noticed that her dress was the exact same shade as Hayden’s tie. As I walked over, the guests around us started whispering. “Why aren’t you angry?” Gigi asked, stirring the noodles in her bowl. “If I were you, I’d have dumped this soup on his head by now.” I smiled. “Why would I be angry?” “Because I’m stealing your husband!” she said, her voice loud enough to make the woman at the next table nearly choke on her wine. “Do you like him?” I asked. Gigi wrinkled her nose. “Of course not. He’s old and boring. Not my type at all.” “Then why accept his gifts? Why wear a dress that matches his tie?” I looked at the red oil stain on Hayden’s cuff. “Why let him tie your shoes in public, and break all his rules for you?” Gigi stopped chewing. She stared at me, dumbfounded, for several seconds. Then, she slammed her chopsticks down and pulled out her phone. “Mr. Blackwood, I’m transferring you the money for everything you’ve given me!” Not long after she sent the voice message, Hayden appeared, tugging at his tie. He looked anxious, his usual cool demeanor completely gone. The moment he saw me sitting next to Gigi, his face hardened. “What did you say to her?” “Vivienne, are you using a little girl to fight your battles for you?” Gigi jumped up, pulling at his hand. “Hey, you’re hurting her!” “Mr. Blackwood, I figured it out myself! It has nothing to do with her!” She took out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen. “The bags, the necklaces, all the other stuff you’ve given me these past two months—I’m cashing it all out and sending it back to you!” Hayden grabbed her arm. “Gigi, you don’t have to do this. I’m serious about you.” “Don’t call me that!” Gigi stood up, her pink hair bouncing. “Do you know how pathetic this is? You have such an amazing wife at home—she’s beautiful and kind—and you’re chasing after me?” Her voice grew louder, echoing through the ballroom. “You had me use your knee as a stepping stool to get into your car, you tied my shoes in public, and now you have me wearing this dress to piss off your wife? Mr. Blackwood, are you some kind of a freak?” The entire room fell silent. Hayden’s face turned a shade of gray. He whipped his head toward me. “Did you teach her to say that?” Before I could answer, Gigi stepped in front of me. “Hey! Who are you yelling at? I told you, I figured it out myself!” 4 “Anyway, you’re not allowed to come near me again. If you do, I’m leaving this place and never coming back!” I thanked Gigi. I hadn’t expected my supposed rival to be quite so… unpredictable. Just then, my phone buzzed in my purse. The hospital’s number flashed on the screen. “Miss Spencer, your aunt collapsed. She’s in emergency surgery right now…” The blood in my veins turned to ice. “I’m on my way.” I hung up and scanned the room for Hayden, but only saw Leo standing nearby. I walked over quickly. “Tell Hayden my aunt is in critical condition and I have to go. Please try to keep things under control here.” With that, I turned and ran for the exit. But at that moment, Gigi was walking toward me with a glass of champagne. We collided hard. The champagne tower next to us came crashing down. Gigi fell into a sea of broken glass. “Ah!” she cried out, her face pale with pain. Shards of glass were embedded in her arm. Hayden appeared out of nowhere and shoved me. “Vivienne! Are you insane?” I stumbled back, my back hitting a wall of people. Gigi tried to stand, but fell back down. Her calf was also bleeding from several deep cuts. Hayden knelt to check her injuries, roaring at me without even looking up. “Apologize! Now!” “I never knew you were such a vicious, cold-hearted woman! She was already planning to cut ties with me, what more do you want?” The ballroom was dead silent. Every eye was on us. “You wanted to leave? Fine. You can go after you finish this bottle as an apology.” I took a deep breath and picked up an unopened bottle of red wine. The harsh liquid burned my throat, but I didn’t spill a drop. After the last swallow, I slammed the empty bottle down on the table, my expression unreadable as I met Hayden’s gaze. “Is that sufficient?” I turned and walked away. Behind me, I heard Leo’s voice. “Hayden, you’re going to regret this.” “Regret what?” Hayden sneered. “Do you know who she is? She’s Jasmine.” The closing doors cut off the rest of his words. I walked briskly to the elevator, my stomach churning, but my steps were steady. Inside the ballroom, Hayden was still reeling from the shock when Gigi suddenly pointed at the floor. “Blood! There’s blood here!” On the polished floor, where I had just been standing, were several drops of crimson. Gigi shoved Hayden hard. “Go after her! She drank all that wine!” Hayden spun around and sprinted for the door, but Gigi called him back. “Wait!” She pointed at the floor again. “The blood… I think it dripped from the hem of her dress…” The three of them froze. “Is she…”

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1 The first day I dropped Lily at preschool, the teacher called: “Your daughter was caught stealing.” I rushed over on my old scooter to find her tied to the flagpole, a “THIEF” sign around her neck. A scream tore from me—until a designer-clad woman kicked my knee, sending me crashing down. She straddled me, yanking my hair. “Trash like you shouldn’t touch what belongs to the Harringtons!” she spat. “That hairclip is worth more than your lives.” I gritted my teeth. “What Harrington treasure is so precious?” The watching parents laughed. “Harrington Capital, you idiot! And this is Jenna Miller—the woman Mr. Harrington swore to protect!” Son of a bitch. Another of my brother-in-law’s mistresses. … I struggled, trying to get to Lily and untie the ropes, but Jenna held me down with vicious strength. Her nails dug into my wrists, the pain so sharp it made my vision blur. The preschool director, a woman with a pinched face, held a megaphone to her lips, her voice booming across the schoolyard. “Let this be a lesson to everyone! This is what happens to thieves!” “Starlight Academy will not tolerate stealing of any kind!” Parents pointed and whispered. Their children, emboldened by the adults, started picking up small stones and throwing them at my daughter. “Thief! Thief!” The childish chants were brutal. Pebbles pelted Lily’s small body. She was shaking, her sobs choked with terror as she pleaded, “I’m not a thief… I didn’t steal anything…” “What proof do you have that my daughter stole anything?” I roared, my voice raw. “That hair clip is hers! It was a birthday present from her father!” Jenna let out a cold, sharp laugh. She reached up and plucked an identical clip from her own daughter’s hair. “Open your damn eyes and look! This is the signature hair clip of the Harrington family’s eldest princess!” She held it high for everyone to see. “It even has her initials engraved on the back! Does your pathetic little knock-off have that?” I froze, finally seeing the subtle difference. My daughter’s clip was a custom-made prototype. Jenna’s daughter was wearing the mass-produced version that was later released to the public. The two girls must have dropped them while playing. Jenna’s daughter had insisted that Lily’s handmade version was hers. After a tantrum, the accusation of theft was born. Fearing the situation was spiraling out of control, I fumbled for my phone and dialed my brother-in-law, Brian. The call connected, but the background was filled with the deafening roar of machinery. “Brian! Get to Starlight Academy, now!” “Come clean up your mess, or I’m calling your wife!” Brian’s voice was muffled and confused. “Elara? I’m in the middle of something! Bad connection.” “Whatever it is, can we talk about it later? I have to go.” He hung up. Jenna and the other parents erupted in derisive laughter. “An actress! Look at her go! Pretending to call a Harrington!” “Who’s next, the President? Think the Secret Service will come save you?” Jenna kicked me hard in the back, sending me sprawling face-first into the dirt. Several of her friends, all decked out in expensive clothes, closed in, their fists and feet a merciless storm against my body. “Look at this pathetic stray! Daring to impersonate a Harrington relative!” “The nerve is just unbelievable!” My jacket was torn, and my scalp screamed in pain as they pulled my hair. 2 Tied to the flagpole, my daughter Lily’s cries were heart-wrenching. “Mommy! Don’t hit my mommy!” I fought like a wild animal, but they held me fast to the ground. My face was shoved into the earth, my mouth filled with the bitter taste of sand and humiliation. Rage and shame burned through me, a fire in my gut. Jenna ordered two school security guards to pin me down, rendering me completely immobile. She then turned to her own pampered daughter. “Sweetheart, Mommy’s going to teach you a lesson,” she cooed. “When you deal with thieves, you have to make sure they never forget.” “You go teach that little thief a lesson. Mommy will take care of the big one, and you can take care of the little one, okay?” Her daughter, a cruel smile on her face, picked up a bottle of black ink, twisted the cap off, and dumped the entire contents over Lily’s head. Lily, still bound, trembled violently. The thick, black liquid streamed down her pale face as her cries turned into hysterical sobs. My vision went red. I thrashed against the guards’ grip. “Stop it! You’ll pay for this! For doing this to a child!” Jenna kicked me in the chest, her laugh cold and sharp. “Pay for it? When you taught her to steal, did you think about the price she would have to pay?” “My price is having Mr. Harrington to protect me. Your price is kneeling here like a dog!” “Trash like you belongs under my heel!” The crowd of parents murmured their approval. Someone even started live-streaming the “righteous” punishment. Vicious comments scrolled across the phone screen: [Serves her right! Like mother, like daughter. The mom should be arrested!] [Look at her face. Not an ounce of remorse. How dare she glare like that?] [Thanks to the Justice Warrior Streamer for showing us what happens to scum.] [How can she still kneel there? I’d have buried myself in a hole by now.] [Streamer, zoom in! I want a good look at that shameless face!] Someone in the crowd yelled, “Film it! Let everyone see what happens to a thief!” Another chimed in, “Yeah! People like this deserve to be socially executed!” The director sidled up to Jenna, fawning over her. “Mrs. Harrington, don’t let this garbage upset you!” “I’ll have her daughter’s enrollment terminated immediately!” “I have connections at every preschool in the city. I’ll make sure this mother and daughter have nowhere to go!” My eyes burned with rage. I stared daggers at the bootlicking sycophant. “You just try it.” CRACK! Jenna’s hand connected with my cheek in a brutal slap. “Did I say you could speak?” I secretly slipped my hand into my pocket, trying to grab my phone to call the police. Jenna’s eyes narrowed. Her stiletto-clad foot stomped down on the back of my hand. She ground her heel in, the sharp point digging into my flesh. With a sickening crack, I heard my own bones break. A scream of pure agony was torn from my throat as a cold sweat drenched my back. The phone, now under her heel, shattered, the screen going black. “Trying to call the police? In your dreams!” “When I’m done with you, I’ll be the one to call them and have you thrown in a cell for a few days.” She lifted her chin smugly, taking the bottle of ink from the director and pouring the rest over my head. The black liquid ran through my hair, staining my white dress. My daughter saw what was happening and her cries became even more frantic. Jenna kept her foot planted on my crushed hand, looking down at me with an air of absolute superiority. “Lick the ink off my shoe. If you do a good enough job, I might consider untying your daughter.” “But it’s just a consideration. It all depends on how well you beg.” 3 The crowd of parents started chanting, their voices a roaring wave. “Lick it! Lick it!” “Teach her a lesson!” “A thief needs to know her place!” For Lily, I closed my eyes. I was trembling. Just as my lips were about to touch the filthy leather, a black Maybach screeched to a halt at the gate. Brian Harrington, my brother-in-law, jumped out, flanked by two assistants and a team of black-suited bodyguards. His face was pale, his forehead beaded with sweat. His eyes darted around the scene, finally landing on me, a pathetic, ink-stained heap on the ground. But he didn’t look at me. Instead, he turned to the parents who were live-streaming, giving his bodyguards a sharp nod. “Hand over the phones.” Terrified, the parents scrambled to comply, not daring to resist. Brian then walked up to the director, his voice quiet but laced with menace. “What happened here today, I don’t want to hear a single word about it outside this school.” The director bobbed her head like a puppet. “Yes, of course, Mr. Harrington! You have my word!” Only after he had contained the situation did he turn to Jenna. He forced a placating smile, reaching out to pat her shoulder in a gesture that looked anything but intimate. “Alright, Jenna, let’s not make a scene. We’ll let the director handle this. Why don’t I have someone take you home?” The triumphant smirk on Jenna’s face vanished, replaced by shock and confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, but Brian quickly clamped a hand over it, muffling her protests. I watched them, a cold knot forming in my stomach. Their interaction was stiff, almost clinical. I chalked it up to them trying to maintain appearances. She was his secret mistress, after all. A relationship not meant for the light of day. Just then, my daughter, still tied to the pole, cried out, her voice hoarse. “Uncle! Uncle, please help me! I’m not a thief!” Brian’s body went rigid, but he didn’t turn around. Lily’s sobs grew more desperate. She pointed to a faint blue ring, drawn with a ballpoint pen, on Brian’s middle finger. “Uncle, why won’t you look at me? Was… was the ring I drew for you yesterday not pretty?” He acted as if he hadn’t heard her, striding over to Jenna. He pulled a black credit card from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “I’ll handle this. You take your daughter and go home.” His voice was low but held an undeniable urgency. Jenna clutched the card. Though she was clearly unhappy about it, she nodded, grabbed her daughter’s hand, and walked toward the Maybach. Brian finally let out a breath of relief. He barked at his bodyguards, “Quick! Get my niece down from there!” They moved swiftly, undoing the ropes that bound Lily. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed, crawling weakly toward me. And Brian, the moment Lily was free, turned, faced me, and dropped to his knees. “Elara! I’m so sorry! I’m late, I didn’t know it was this urgent!” His head was bowed low, his voice thick with regret and fear. “I’m begging you, please don’t tell my brother. And please, for the love of God, don’t tell Laura!” “Elara, you have to help me cover this up!” Ignoring the searing pain from my shattered hand, I pushed myself up from the ground. Lily crawled to my side, clinging to my leg, her sobs ragged and breathless. I looked at Brian kneeling before me, and a white-hot rage burned through my reason. I raised my good left hand and, with every ounce of strength I had, slapped him across the face. CRACK! “Help you?” I shrieked. “Brian, all the times you’ve messed around on the side, your brother and I have looked the other way! We’ve helped you lie to your wife, Laura!” “But look at this thing you’ve been keeping!” I pointed at the Maybach, its engine still rumbling. “She calls her daughter the ‘Harrington family’s eldest princess’! She tied my daughter to a flagpole! Poured ink on her! Called us thieves!” “She crushed my hand under her heel and ground me into the dirt!” “She shits on my head, and you expect me to wipe your ass?” I was shaking with fury. I slapped him again. 4 “You let her walk all over me! Brian, you’ve really outdone yourself!” “What are we in your eyes, my daughter and I? Just disposable trash? What kind of power have you given her that she dares to act like this?” Brian clutched his stinging cheeks, not daring to argue. He just kept bowing his head, over and over. “Elara, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” “I didn’t know she was this crazy! I’ll deal with her when I get home, I swear!” Just then, the Maybach, which had just started to pull away, slammed on its brakes. The door flew open, and Jenna stormed out, her face a mask of fury. When she saw Brian on his knees, with me standing over him, her eyes went bloodshot. “You thieving bitch!” “How dare you hit him?” Jenna lunged at me like a feral animal, her hand raised to strike. Two of the bodyguards reacted instantly, grabbing her from either side and holding her fast. Jenna thrashed in their grip, her voice a stream of curses. “Let me go! You useless dogs!” “Can’t you see this psycho is hitting Mr. Harrington?” “I’m going to rip her goddamn mouth off!” The scene had descended into chaos. At that moment, another car, a stately black Lincoln, pulled up to the gate. The door opened, and a woman in a custom-tailored, dark green silk dress stepped out with practiced grace. A string of sandalwood prayer beads was wrapped around her wrist, and a jade pendant hung from her waist. She moved with an effortless, commanding elegance. It was Laura. Brian’s wife. “I saw a live stream that looked a little familiar, so I came to see what was going on.” Her eyes swept over my disheveled form, then to her kneeling husband, and finally to the struggling Jenna. I shot Brian a sarcastic smile. “Well, Brian, your wife is here. Let’s see how you explain this one.” I was ready to watch the fireworks. Brian caught red-handed, the mistress right there in front of everyone. Finally, someone else would deal with her. But what happened next left me completely stunned. Laura walked briskly over to Jenna, her voice low and placating. “Miss Miller, why don’t we find somewhere private to talk? Let’s not make a scene here, okay?” She reached out to help Jenna up, her posture almost deferential. But Jenna looked at her as if she’d never seen her before. She shoved Laura’s hand away in disgust. “Who the hell do you think you are? You think you can touch me?” She looked Laura up and down, then sneered. “Some stray cat off the street thinks she can tell me what to do? Get lost!” Laura stumbled back, caught by her assistant. She instinctively glanced at Brian, who gave her a sharp, almost imperceptible nod. Laura understood immediately. She lunged forward and delivered a series of sharp, ringing slaps across Jenna’s face. “Who do you think you are?” “Daring to use the Harrington name to throw your weight around!” “You’re nothing!” The crisp sound of the slaps silenced the crowd. Jenna, clutching her burning cheek, was completely bewildered. “You hit me? Do you have any idea who I am?” “I don’t give a damn who you are!” Laura slapped her again, so hard that Jenna staggered. “You seduce my husband and then dare to act high and mighty in front of me? Who gave you the nerve?” With that, Laura grabbed a fistful of Jenna’s hair and started dragging her toward the car. But Jenna fought back, and the two women descended into a tangle of flailing limbs and furious shrieks. “You psycho! Who is your husband? When did I ever seduce him?” Jenna screamed as she struggled. “Let go of me! I only had dinner with the man once!” The crowd of parents watched, their jaws on the floor, as a new wave of gossip erupted. “So this Jenna is the mistress? Caught by the real wife?” “I knew it. The real Harringtons would never let their family act so atrociously in public. She’s just some cheap trash.” The jeers and whispers were even louder now than when they had been directed at me and my daughter. Brian scrambled to his feet, rushing to help Laura drag the screaming, kicking Jenna to the car. “Let me go! You two are disgusting!” Just as they were about to shove her inside, a small, desperate cry pierced the chaos. “Daddy! Daddy! They’re hitting my mommy! Help her!” I followed the sound of the voice.

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1 I’d always taken advantage of Tom, my childhood sweetheart—borrowing money, running errands. He spoiled me endlessly. Until our engagement party, when we both “awakened.” Turns out I was cannon fodder in a novel, and he was the male lead destined for the true heroine. I tried to back out, but he dragged me to the courthouse, snarling, “No script matters. I choose you.” We married, built an empire, and the novel’s plot faded… until Julia, a real estate heiress, joined our company. During an office fire, she knocked over a shelf. I shoved Tom out of the way—taking the crushing blow. Blood pooled around me as Julia screamed, “Tom, help me!” He sprinted past my dying body toward her. Of course. The heroine’s name was Julia. Tom’s panicked cries echoed in my ears, each syllable a blade twisting in my heart. Blood was streaming down my face, but I couldn’t feel the pain. My eyes were locked on him. I watched as he wrapped his arms tightly around Julia, his face a mask of terror. “Did you hurt your leg? Julia, don’t be scared, just hang on, I’m getting you to a hospital right now!” The blood kept flowing. My breathing grew ragged. I fought through the agony, my voice a barely-there whisper. “Tom… help… help me…” But the man who was only feet away didn’t seem to see me. He scooped Julia into his arms and scrambled for the stairs. “Someone’s hurt! Call an ambulance!” It wasn’t until he was gone that the cold finally seeped in, a chill so deep it felt like an arrow piercing my soul. In a moment of crisis, my husband had abandoned the wife who had just saved his life, and run off with the woman he truly cared about. People screamed and fled around me, too consumed by their own fear to notice my plight. I was left crumpled in a corner, helpless. The pain in my head intensified. My eyelids grew heavy. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, desperately telling myself to stay awake. Faye, you can’t sleep. You have to hold on… I swallowed the metallic tang rising in my throat and used every last bit of strength to cry out. “Help… help me…” It felt like a gut-wrenching scream, but in reality, it was a faint whimper. My vision blurred. As I teetered on the edge of consciousness, my mind, for some reason, drifted back to our wedding day. In front of all our friends and family, Tom had dropped to one knee, his voice thick with devotion as he pledged his love. He’d held me tight, promising, “I don’t believe in fate. I only know that you are the love of my life.” The memories of our love were so vivid, yet now, he had abandoned me for another woman without a second thought. I didn’t understand. Was ‘fate’ truly this inescapable? Was he being driven by some unseen force to fall hopelessly in love with Julia? My whole body throbbed, and I couldn’t tell if it was my heart or my head that hurt more. Then, the world went black. When I came to, I was in a hospital bed. The familiar voice of my best friend, Olivia, cut through the haze. “Doctor, doctor! She’s awake!” She turned to me, her eyes red-rimmed. “You idiot, how did you get so hurt? You have a giant hole in your head, do you know that?” I was too weak to answer. Just then, our assistant, Leo, rushed in with a young doctor. The doctor had the earnest, clueless look of a fresh-faced intern, his ID badge proclaiming his status in big, bold letters. Olivia was aghast. “An intern? Where’s Dr. Chen?” Leo looked deeply uncomfortable. “Mr. Tyler had the hospital director assemble all the senior doctors for a consultation for Ms. Vance. I tried calling the other attending physicians, but they all said they were busy.” “What?” Olivia was dumbfounded. “Did you tell him Faye was critically injured and needed immediate treatment?” “I did.” Leo’s voice was heavy with apology. “Mr. Tyler said… Ms. Vance took a fall. She’s delicate, and he’s worried about long-term damage, so he wants the specialists to give her a thorough examination.” Leo couldn’t bear to look me in the eye. I felt exposed, a cold dread washing over me. Tom and I were famous in our circle for being the perfect, loving couple, comrades in arms who had conquered the business world side-by-side. Everyone knew he would do anything for me. Once, I was kidnapped. He went alone to the rendezvous point and offered himself in my place. He was beaten bloody, but he shielded me with his own body without hesitation. No one could understand it. The man who would have died for me was now acting as if I didn’t exist. Worse, knowing I was grievously injured, he had deliberately diverted every senior doctor away from me. Only I knew why. Because Tom was in love with Julia. Just like the book foretold, the male lead would always prioritize the heroine’s needs above all else. My heart felt like it was being torn in two. My breath hitched, and the heart monitor began to shriek, its lines spiking erratically. “Her condition is critical,” the young doctor said, his voice sharp with anxiety. “We can’t wait any longer. We have to operate. Now!” I was rushed into the operating room. The sting of antiseptic on my open wound was a searing, white-hot fire. A pained groan escaped my lips. It hurt so much. As he stitched, the young doctor’s voice was a gentle murmur. “Hang in there. It’ll be over soon. You’re going to be okay.” The surgery lasted ten hours. Nurses and doctors moved in and out in a blur. They issued critical condition warnings again and again. I was unconscious through it all. When I next opened my eyes, I was back in a private room. Olivia’s face was etched with worry. “You’re finally awake. How do you feel?” Every inch of me ached. My mouth was dry as dust. My first instinct was to ask if Tom had come to see me, but I stopped myself. There was no point in seeking out more pain. But Olivia saw the question in my eyes. Her voice was laced with fury. “That bastard has been by Julia’s bedside for a day and a night. He hasn’t come to see you once. He’s not human!” Olivia caught herself, her voice softening. “The soundproofing in these VIP rooms is really good. Maybe… maybe he’s hard of hearing and didn’t hear what Leo said. I’ll go find him and get this straightened out!” I spoke, my voice frail. “Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter if he comes or not.” My friend looked at me, her heart breaking. “But, Faye, you were so badly hurt. Your head… it was full of blood. The doctor said if they had operated any later, you might have ended up in a vegetative state…” I lowered my gaze. “Yes. I was lucky.” What happened that day had made one thing crystal clear: Tom and I were over. That shelf didn’t just smash my head; it smashed the rose-tinted glasses I’d been wearing. My love was a bloody, mangled mess on the floor. That afternoon, I was resting in bed with my eyes closed when I overheard two junior assistants whispering outside my door. “I’m so jealous of Ms. Vance. The boss is so handsome, and he’s so in love with her!” “I know, right? She just got a tiny little scrape, and the whole hospital’s best doctors are tending to her. Talk about a fuss!” “That’s not all. This morning, she was craving pastries from that famous downtown bakery, and Mr. Tyler drove over there himself to get them. You know how hard it is to get anything from that place.” “Sigh. Faye’s life is tough. If she weren’t so lucky, she would’ve died in that fire. Mr. Tyler always seemed to adore her, but the second there was trouble, he completely forgot about his own wife. Poor Faye.” Their voices faded as they walked away. I let out a bitter laugh. I had been waiting for Tom to see me. To hear him say, in his own words, that he loved someone else. To hear him ask for a divorce. Or at least, to offer an explanation. An explanation for when the man who had promised me the world had started to stray, and how he had gotten involved with Julia. But I never imagined this. He hadn’t just strayed. He had completely forgotten my existence while running off to buy pastries for his damsel in distress. If that was the case, then I would be the one to let go. I summoned Leo. “Draft a detailed divorce agreement. Tell Tom I want a divorce.” Leo looked stunned, but he nodded. “Right away.” Not long after, I got a call from Tom’s assistant. He greeted me respectfully before relaying Tom’s message. “Ms. Morgan, Mr. Tyler asked me to tell you that Ms. Vance is the daughter of a major client. He was entrusted with her care, and he must prioritize the company’s interests. He hopes you won’t throw a tantrum over him saving someone and to please stop talking about divorce.” “He wanted to explain everything to you in person yesterday, but you weren’t in your office, so he went to handle other business.” “Today, he has to follow up on another partnership, so he needs you to manage things at the company for now. He said that once this is all over, he will apologize to you personally.” I hung up the phone and laughed until tears streamed down my face. He didn’t even know I was injured. He had no idea I’d been critically wounded, that I’d been fighting for my life in this very hospital. And on top of it all, he thought I was playing some childish, jealous game by asking for a divorce. It was so absurd, so utterly ridiculous it was comical. But I couldn’t stop the pain in my chest, or the tears that fell like rain. This time, my heart, which had held on to hope for Tom, finally turned to ash. The doctor said I needed to rest properly, or I’d suffer permanent health problems that could affect my lifespan. And I very much wanted to live a few more years. Fortunately, I had a piece of healing jade, a special stone that was said to promote recovery. But before I could even feel a flicker of relief, Tom’s assistant was back. This time, he was after my jade. “Ms. Morgan, this is difficult for me, but Mr. Tyler’s instructions were clear. Whatever Ms. Vance wants, she gets.” “She’s not well, and she wants that jade to help with her recovery…” So that’s how important Julia was to him. I had nearly died, and I desperately needed this stone to help my body heal. And he, without a moment’s hesitation, was trying to snatch it away from me to give to Julia as a plaything. With his wealth, he could have anything in the world. Why was he so fixated on taking what was mine? My face hardened. “I need this jade to recover,” I said, my voice sharp. “If he wants it, tell him to come and get it himself.” The assistant nodded and left. A few moments later, my door swung open and Julia walked in. She was wearing an oversized hospital gown, which made her look fragile and pitiable. Her words, however, were anything but. “Faye. Tom sent me. Give me the jade. I need it to get better.” I stared at her. “It’s my property. Why should I give it to you?” “Because I’m the one Tom can’t stop thinking about.” She looked at me, her tone dripping with mockery. “I went to a lot of trouble to start that fire. It’s a shame you’re so hard to kill.” A chill went down my spine. The fire… she had set it deliberately. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll call the police?” Julia was unfazed. “Do you have any proof?” “Let me put it this way,” she continued, “The moment I saw Tom, I knew he was the one I’d been waiting for. And he knows it too. He knows I’m the heroine of his life story. He can’t be without me. And with his protection, I can do whatever I want.” I knew she was right, and the words died in my throat. Tom was completely bewitched by her, as if under a spell. For her, he could abandon his colleagues in a fire. For her, he would drive across town just to see her smile. And for her, he would give me up. She glanced at the diamond wedding ring on my finger, a dismissive sneer on her face. “Tom gave you this, didn’t he? What a pity. The main diamond is gone.” “A broken ring for a broken marriage. You and Tom are about finished, aren’t you? I’d advise you to be smart and leave him on your own.” She cast a sidelong glance at me, placing a hand on her still-flat stomach. “Besides, I’m pregnant. It’s Tom’s.” “You’ve been married to him for so long with no baby. I guess your married life isn’t that… harmonious. But that’s normal. After so many years, even the best meal gets boring. No wonder Tom said that holding your hand feels like his left hand holding his right.” She covered her mouth and giggled. I was stunned. They had slept together? She was carrying his child? A thousand tiny needles pricked at my chest. I stared at the triumphant woman before me and said, enunciating every word, “Is being a mistress something to be proud of?” “Everyone in this city knows that I, Faye Morgan, am Tom Tyler’s wife. If I were to let it slip that you’re the homewrecker who destroyed my marriage, what do you think would happen? Don’t you think you and your precious Tom would become social pariahs?” The smile froze on Julia’s face. She glared at me, her bravado faltering. “You wouldn’t dare! Aren’t you afraid of making Tom angry?” I smiled sweetly. “Why don’t you try me?” Julia shot me a hateful look and stormed out. Just as she exited, she ran right into Tom, who was on his way back. Her face crumpled, and she burst into tears. “Tom, I’m so upset! The doctor said that jade would be good for my health. I was just curious, I just wanted to see if it was really that magical, but that person… she wouldn’t even let me look at it! She just yelled at me and threw me out! Waaah! If she didn’t want to show me, that’s fine, but why did she have to yell at me?” Tom’s face darkened instantly. “Who would dare bully you like that? I’ll deal with them!” He took Julia by the arm and stormed toward my room. “How much is the jade worth? Name a price, I’ll pay you double! But you,” his voice boomed through the closed door, “you will apologize to my woman!” “I’d like to see just who is arrogant enough to mess with someone of mine!” He pushed the door open, his arm still around Julia. He took in the sight of me on the bed, the nurse cleaning my wound, and froze—

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On the day I was supposed to get married, my best friend’s mother told everyone I’d been a sugar baby in college. That I’d had an abortion. When I found out, my first instinct was to call the cops. But everyone, everyone, told me to focus on the wedding. To not stoop to the level of a gossiping old hag. Then I learned that someone at her table was live-streaming the reception. The rumor spread like wildfire. My mother-in-law believed it. She forced my husband to divorce me. An anonymous complaint was filed at my job, and I was fired. My parents, unable to show their faces in our small town, disowned me. The blows came one after another, and I fell into a deep depression. I jumped to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on my wedding day. … “Hold on,” I said, stopping the makeup artist’s brush mid-air. I lowered my head and grabbed my phone. It didn’t take long to find the live stream. I clicked the link, and the voices of several middle-aged women filled the room. “So what does the groom’s family do? This is quite the fancy setup.” “I hear they’re in the hotel business. Own a bunch of properties. You have to hand it to Jane, she really knows how to play her cards. She’s pretty, sure, but her real talent is wrapping men around her little finger.” I turned the volume up, and the sound from my phone’s speaker cut through the quiet of the bridal suite, catching the attention of my bridesmaids. One of them leaned in. “Fiona,” she gasped, recognizing a face on the screen. “That’s your mom.” Fiona rushed over, just in time to hear her mother, Rose, continue her tirade. “Honestly, our Fiona is prettier than Jane, but she just doesn’t have those… vixen’s tricks. Jane’s so well-endowed for a reason, you know. All those men… She was a born seductress. Dating boys in elementary school, a rich man’s plaything in college. She’d do anything for money, sleep with anyone. Had a few abortions, too. Oh, what a shame.” Fiona’s face went bone-white. “Jane, don’t listen to her,” she stammered. “She’s just talking nonsense. I’ll go out there right now and make her stop.” But before Fiona could move, I shot up from my chair and stormed toward the door, my wedding dress rustling around me. Fiona grabbed my arm. “Jane, don’t! It’s your wedding day! I’ll handle it. I’ll make sure she doesn’t say another word, I promise.” My other friends chimed in, echoing her plea. The bride couldn’t just march out before the ceremony started, it would look terrible. “Yeah, Jane, just hang in there,” Fiona said, her face a mask of sincerity, as if she truly had my best interests at heart. “You know my mom, her mouth runs faster than her brain. I’ll go give her a piece of my mind. After today, I’ll make her apologize to you personally. Don’t let her ruin your big day.” In my last life, I didn’t find out from a live stream. A relative, disgusted by the gossip, had come to tell me in hushed tones. And I had listened to them. I had endured it. But the next day, before Fiona could drag her mother over for a half-hearted apology, the story was already everywhere. That one rumor cost me my husband, my parents, and my career. It pushed me until I broke. And through it all, Rose never once spoke up to say she’d lied. Reborn, there was no way I was letting it go. After all, I knew which was more important: a wedding, or my life. I ignored Fiona and strode out of the room. When I reached Rose’s table, she was still deep in the sordid details of my supposed abortion. “She was still in college, of course she couldn’t let her parents know. She borrowed money from my Fiona. My girl has such a big heart, she stole from me to help her friend. That’s how I found out. And I know the boy’s mother, too. I checked with her later. Her son really did knock Jane up.” “Aunt Rose, is that really true?” someone asked. “Mom! What the hell are you talking about?!” Fiona’s shriek and my sharp question echoed at the same time. Rose jumped, startled. She turned and saw me, her smile instantly awkward. But she recovered quickly, feigning ignorance. “Jane, honey, what are you doing out here already?” I stared at her, my face a canvas of pure shock. “Aunt Rose, is it true? Did I have an abortion in college? Did you see it with your own eyes?” What had been a quiet murmur at one table suddenly had an audience. My appearance, my raised voice—it drew every eye in the hall. Rose was flustered, suddenly at a loss for words. Fiona looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. She tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “Mom. Apologize.” Rose stood up. “Jane, I’m sorry. You know me, I just talk without thinking.” My eyes widened in mock disbelief. “So you’re saying it’s true?” Before Rose could answer, my parents and my fiancé, Ethan, had rushed over. “Jane, what’s wrong?” my mother asked, taking my arm. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it calmly.” “Mom, Aunt Rose is telling everyone that I was promiscuous in college, that I got pregnant and had an abortion,” I said, my voice trembling with feigned horror. “But I don’t remember any of it! That man… he must have drugged me! It’s the only explanation!” My mother’s face instantly darkened. She glared at Rose. “Rose, what is the meaning of this? Spreading vile rumors at my daughter’s wedding?” Rose forced a laugh. “It was a mistake. I misspoke. I already apologized to Jane.” My mother turned back to me. “Jane, you know your Aunt Rose loves to gossip. She’s already said she’s sorry, just let it go.” My father added from behind me, “That’s right. Look at yourself. All our friends and family are here. No one’s going to believe such a ridiculous lie.” It wasn’t just my parents. Everyone started trying to smooth things over. Seeing the moment about to be swept under the rug, I let tears well in my eyes. “No, no, Aunt Rose told the story with such detail! How could it be fake? If I don’t remember it, it must have happened against my will! That man committed a crime! Aunt Rose, you have to tell me who he is! I’m calling the police!” The word “police” wiped the smile right off Rose’s face. “There’s no one!” she said quickly. “Fine, I made it all up, okay? Jane, it’s your wedding day. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have said those things. Let’s just… let this be my apology.” She raised her teacup. “I’ll drink to your happiness, and we’ll say no more about it. Just pretend I was lying. Okay?” She drained the cup in one gulp. Then she looked at me. “There. Are we good?” I just stared at her, my expression making it clear that we were not. Rose felt my displeasure. She clearly thought she, the elder, had already given me, the younger, enough face, and was annoyed by my persistence. She started to get up, muttering about how I’d ruined the mood and she should just leave. I shot out a hand and grabbed her arm. “No, Aunt Rose. You can’t just leave.” She looked at me, exasperated. “I’ve apologized! What more do you want? Do you want me to get on my knees and beg?” I narrowed my eyes. “Everyone heard what you said. Since you admit it was a lie, then you need to clear my name. Right now. Get up on that stage and tell everyone that you’re a malicious gossip and everything you just said was a complete fabrication from your own sick mind.” Rose’s face hardened. Apologizing in front of this small group was humiliating enough. Now I was trying to force her onto the stage. Her patience snapped. “Jane, I apologized to give you an out. Don’t you dare think what I said wasn’t true. Let sleeping dogs lie. You should take that advice to heart.” My grip on her arm tightened. “So it is true? Then tell me the man’s name. Otherwise, you made it all up, and I’m suing you for slander.” That did it. Rose was officially provoked. “His name is Nathan! And he was married at the time! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that, too.” I froze for a split second. And in that same instant, Fiona’s face drained of all color. Rose didn’t notice her daughter’s strange reaction. She only saw mine and became instantly smug. “Remember now, do you?” Before I could speak, Fiona lurched forward, grabbing her mom’s arm and pulling her toward the exit. “Mom, you’ve gone too far! This is Jane’s wedding! We’re supposed to be friends! How are we ever supposed to face each other after this?” “What are you so afraid of?” Rose snapped back, shaking her off. “I gave the little brat a chance to save face, and she threw it back at me. A friend like that is no friend at all.” Rose had no idea. Fiona wasn’t afraid of our friendship ending. She was terrified of the truth coming out. In my past life, I always wondered how Rose could remember such specific details about a lie. But listening to her now, and seeing Fiona’s reaction, a bold idea began to form in my mind. The moment she said his name—Nathan—I was certain. Someone was a mistress in college. Someone had an abortion. But it wasn’t me. It was her own precious daughter, Fiona. I’d seen Fiona get into Nathan’s car near campus multiple times. I knew they’d been a thing for a while, but I never knew Nathan was married. And I remembered a time when Fiona was terribly weak and pale. When I asked what was wrong, she just said it was a bad period. I was naive back then. I didn’t understand how menstrual cramps could cause that much pain. Seeing them about to escape the reception hall, I blocked Rose’s path again. “You’re not leaving. You have to be my witness.” I insisted I had no memory of any of this, no memory of ever being involved with Nathan. Since she remembered it all so clearly, she could come with me to the police station and give a statement. If she refused, it was proof she was lying. Rose, however, thought I was just playing dumb, trying to bury the past. She stopped trying to leave and squared off with me. “It doesn’t matter if you admit it, it’s still true! And I’ll tell you what, Nathan is having his engagement party in this very hotel, right now. I’ll call him over. Let’s see how you handle that.” I lifted my chin. “Go on then. Get him over here. Let’s confront him together!” Spurred on, Rose wrenched her arm from Fiona’s grasp, pulled out her phone, and made the call. And it was true. Nathan really was in the hotel. A few minutes later, Nathan’s mother arrived. The second she appeared, Rose grabbed her hand. “During your son’s first marriage, did he or did he not get a college girl pregnant? Look, isn’t this her?” I expected Nathan’s mom to deny it, given the public setting. It wasn’t exactly something to be proud of. But to my surprise, she said smugly, “That was years ago, who remembers the details? But yes, there was some little thing who was always chasing after my Nathan.” Then she seemed to remember where she was and covered her mouth with a giggle. “Why did you call me over here to talk about this?” Rose shot me a triumphant smirk. “Did you hear that, Jane? Let’s just leave it at that. It’s your wedding day, so I’ll do you a favor and not air all of your dirty laundry.” With that, the two of them started chatting as if nothing was wrong, discussing Nathan’s second fiancée, the daughter of his boss, and how well his career was going. I cut in. “This lady only said ‘some little thing.’ How do you know that was me?” The entire hall was craning their necks, trying to catch every word. The wedding planner came over and whispered urgently that the ceremony was about to start. My parents, mortified, tried to pull me away. “Jane, what do you think you’re doing? Can’t this wait until after the wedding?” I shook my head like a metronome. “No. I want this settled now. Before my reputation is completely destroyed.” My dad’s voice was tight with anger. “She already gave you an out, didn’t you hear her? Drop it! Do you even want to get married or not?” I looked over at my future husband and mother-in-law. Their faces were as black as thunderclouds. The disgust in their eyes was overflowing. “This is the wonderful daughter-in-law you picked out for me,” my mother-in-law sneered at Ethan. “I told you from the start she was a little fox, but you wouldn’t listen.” Ethan strode over, his voice sharp with displeasure. “Jane, is any of this true? Because if it is, I don’t think we can go through with this wedding.” His mother added from behind him, “How utterly shameless. To make such a huge scene to cover up your own filthy past.” Their words were like daggers. My parents cared only about their own reputation, about getting the wedding over with. My fiancé thought I was embarrassing him. But he and I had met freshman year. We were inseparable for years. He, more than anyone, knew whether or not I’d been pregnant. And yet, in the end, he believed them too.

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My roommate’s cousin was the CEO of a major corporation. We had been in a secret relationship for three years. One day, he told me, “Hey, my cousin’s bringing her boyfriend of three years to meet my parents tonight.” He clapped me on the back. “By the way, when are you gonna bring your girlfriend around for me to meet?” I didn’t know how to answer. I mumbled an excuse and slipped out onto the balcony, dialing his cousin’s number. The call was rejected. I turned around and froze. My girlfriend was standing in the doorway, her arm linked with another man’s. The moment she saw me, the smile vanished from her face. “What are you doing in my house?” 1 The question, sharp and accusatory, hung in the air. Every eye in the room turned to me. Realizing her mistake, Phoebe’s tone softened, but the damage was done. “Charles? What a surprise. I thought you were on a business trip.” Under the curious gaze of her family, I stood frozen for a beat before forcing a bitter smile, playing along with her charade. A sharp pain lanced through my heart. So, this was it. I was the secret she couldn’t bear to let see the light of day. A million questions, a million unspoken words, were screaming in my head, but all my strength had evaporated. Suddenly, none of it seemed to matter anymore. “Just got back,” I said, my voice hollow. “Didn’t have a chance to let you know, Ms. Branson.” My compliance seemed to soothe her, and her expression returned to normal. The dinner was a masterclass in performance art. I played the part of a congenial guest, clinking glasses with Phoebe’s “boyfriend,” Nick, and even exchanging contact information. We pretended to hit it off. I didn’t speak another word to Phoebe for the rest of the evening. After dinner, I went home alone. I sat on the sofa, the image of Phoebe on Nick’s arm branded into my mind. I saw her introducing him to her parents, to her relatives, as her boyfriend. It was everything I had ever wanted. I had dreamed of her taking me home, of her telling her parents that I would spend my life making her happy, that I would never let her suffer. Instead, I was a rat, scurrying in the shadows. I sat there until midnight. Finally, Phoebe came home. The storm of emotions that had been building inside me should have erupted, just as it had so many times before. The familiar cycle: a tense calm, an argument, shouting, excuses, blame, and finally, the cold war of silence. But this time, I felt nothing. The fight had gone out of me. It was all meaningless. Phoebe took off her shoes. Seeing me sitting there in the dark, she spoke first, a rare occurrence. “I only brought Nick to meet my parents because they’ve been pressuring me to get married. I just asked him to play the part for a day, to get them off my back.” “Mm,” I said, acknowledging her explanation. Nothing more. Logically, I knew my reaction was perfectly reasonable. But for some reason, it made her angry. The impatience in her voice was so sharp it made me look up. “Charles, I just explained everything. What is this attitude?” Her words hit me like a physical blow. Without thinking, I shot back, “You asked your assistant to pretend to be your boyfriend? Why didn’t you just take me? I’m your actual boyfriend!” “Because you would have embarrassed me in front of my parents!” The words hung in the air, heavy and final. She threw her handbag at me, turned, and stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door so hard the frame rattled. The bag was a gift from Nick. A discounted Coach bucket bag from an outlet mall, but she carried it everywhere. She would shield it from the rain with her own body. The Chanel classic flap I had bought her, however, was slashed to ribbons and thrown in the trash after Nick declared it was “obviously a fake.” It was so obvious. How had I been so blind? Her first, unfiltered reaction in a moment of anger—that was the truth. She was ashamed of me. Of course she was. I met her in college, a nobody. Because of her, I didn’t go back home after graduation; I went to work at her company. She was the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar corporation. In everyone else’s eyes, I was just a freeloader, riding her coattails. I was an embarrassment. Nick, on the other hand, was her equal, a perfect match who made her look good. It didn’t matter that for three years, I had been devoted to her, that I had catered to her every whim. I could never compete with Nick. It was time to end this ridiculous three-year charade. I took a spare blanket from the closet and spent the night in the study. For the first time in a long time, I slept soundly. The next morning, I got ready and left for work. As I was leaving the apartment complex, I got a call from the dealership. “Mr. Thomas? Your car is ready for pickup.” Last month, Phoebe had lent my car to Nick without asking. When he returned it, he casually mentioned a few scratches. I had wanted to confront him, but Phoebe had defended him, so I had to let it go and just send the car in for repairs. I arrived at the dealership shortly after. The manager handed me my keys with a knowing, conspiratorial smile. He gestured to a gift bag on the passenger seat, emblazoned with the dealership’s logo. “Hey, buddy,” he said, winking. “We put everything back for you. I get it, you’re young. But maybe be a little more discreet next time? Keep your… personal items… out of sight before you bring the car in. It was a bit awkward for the mechanics.” Confused, I opened the bag. Inside was a set of lacy lingerie and a pair of nipple clamps with little bells on them. I knew exactly what that meant. And I knew Phoebe and I had never done anything like that in the car. There was only one possible conclusion. It was her and Nick. 2 There was no questioning, no anger. Not even surprise. I removed the dashcam’s memory card. “Do you buy used cars?” I asked the manager. “We certainly do, sir!” I didn’t haggle. We quickly settled on a price, and I took a taxi to the office. As I sat down at my desk, I overheard a few female colleagues gossiping. “Do you think Ms. Branson is really with that assistant of hers?” “That’s what I’ve been thinking! I heard she personally recruited Nick, offered him a huge salary!” “Of course she did. They were college classmates, you know. I saw them at a bar together just last night!” Even though I knew it was over, a sharp pain still pierced my heart. So that’s how it was. I numbly opened my computer, but the blank document stared back at me. I couldn’t write a single word. “Charles!” Phoebe’s voice came from behind me. “You’re an hour late! I’m marking you as absent for the day.” Before I could argue, she added, “I checked your time card. Exactly one hour. According to company policy…” “Okay.” I nodded, my eyes still fixed on the screen, trying to figure out how to start the damn project proposal. My placid acceptance seemed to surprise her. She lingered by my desk, her shadow falling over my workspace, blocking the light. I looked up, confused. “Is there something else, Ms. Branson?” She crossed her arms, looking down at me, her face a mask of scrutiny. “Charles, don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” I feigned confusion, thinking for a moment. “I was late. That’s a fact. You’re following company policy, which is as it should be. I don’t think I have anything to explain. I don’t have any excuses.” My frankness seemed to disarm her. She glared at me for another moment before turning and walking away. Soon, I was lost in my work, and the hours flew by. When I finally took off my headphones and looked up, the entire office was empty. It was 11:30 at night. I cursed my work buddies under my breath for not telling me they were leaving. The sharp click of high heels approached from behind. Phoebe, having just thrown away her takeout container, sat down in the chair next to me. “Why didn’t you reply to my messages?” I opened my laptop and saw that she had indeed messaged me. “Help me with this. Which of these CPUs, motherboards, and graphics cards are the best? For triple-A gaming.” “And how do I get the RGB lighting in the case to look cool? Is liquid cooling better than air cooling?” She knew I was an expert in this field. It was my bread and butter. A year ago, I had mentioned wanting a new high-end Intel processor. It wasn’t that I was trying to get a gift out of her; it was a time when she was running hot and cold, and I was desperate for some sign that I still mattered to her. Her response then had been sharp and dismissive. “You’re not a college kid anymore, Charles! You’ve been out of school for two years. Stop thinking about video games and focus on your work!” I had tried to explain that for my work, a powerful CPU was more important than a graphics card, but she hadn’t listened. Now, I put together a list of components for her. She was thrilled. After she placed the order, she insisted we leave work together. On the way home, I sat in the back seat, running diagnostics on my laptop. I idly scrolled through my social media feed. The first post was from Nick. A nine-photo grid with the caption: “I just have to mention it, and it happens. This is what it feels like to be loved.” The photos were of the high-end gaming setup Phoebe had just ordered. I liked the post and left a comment. “Wishing you all the best.” A few moments later, Phoebe’s phone buzzed. The car screeched to a halt on the side of the road. She turned and glared at me. “So I bought him a gaming computer. What’s with the passive-aggressive comment on his post?” Her voice was rising. “I’ll buy you one too! I’ll buy you whatever you want, is that it?” I was annoyed. The sudden stop had made me hit a key, interrupting the diagnostic program that was almost finished. Now I had to start over. But I had no energy to fight. I sighed, restarted the program, and said, as calmly as I could, “I wasn’t being passive-aggressive. It was a sincere comment. You don’t have to be so sensitive.” Her face darkened. She reached over and slammed my laptop shut. “Is this because I asked Nick to pretend to be my boyfriend? Are you going to keep throwing a tantrum about this?” she seethed. “Is this fun for you, Charles? You should be thanking him, not leaving snide comments on his posts. Don’t think I’m going to coddle you just because you’re younger than me. If you’re going to act like a child, go home to your parents. Don’t expect me to put up with it! Know your place!” Her voice was laced with a final, threatening edge. “One more stunt like this, and we’re done.” In the past, I would have been begging for her forgiveness. But now, I was just tired. I just wanted to finish my work. The code would have to be completely rewritten if this test failed. I nodded. “Mm. I get it. You can keep driving now.” I don’t know what it was about my calm response that set her off, but she screamed at me. “Get out!” I looked at her for a long moment, then grabbed my laptop and got out of the car. I didn’t want to fight. It wasn’t worth the risk of her getting road rage. The second I was out, she stomped on the gas and sped away. Watching her taillights disappear, I thought about the past. Her moods had always thrown me into a panic, making me question what I had done wrong, how I had upset her. I just wanted her to be happy, but with me, she was a storm of unpredictable emotions. I always assumed it was my fault and rushed to apologize. Not this time. I sat on the curb, my laptop open, trying to salvage my work. I pulled out my phone and called a car to take me to a five-star hotel. I booked the presidential suite.

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The company’s cash flow had seized up. The final project payment, the one I’d promised would be on time, was going to be a month late. I called in Zoe, the girl I’d been sponsoring for years. She was my foreman’s daughter, working as an intern in my office since graduation. I chose my words carefully. “The money isn’t going to come through on schedule. It might be another month. Could you let your dad know? I don’t want him to worry.” But the next day, the crew smashed up my office. “You swore on your life!” they roared. “The project’s done, and now you’re saying you’re broke?” My eyes found Zoe. She was in tears. “All I know is the company has no money right now,” she sobbed. “You can’t pay, and I can’t lie for you. It’s a matter of my character.” 1 My office had been ransacked. I’d just gotten home from a business trip when the call came. By the time I arrived, the place was a disaster zone. The heavy desks and chairs they couldn’t break were violently shoved out of place, creating a chaotic maze. Smaller things—mugs, binders, files—were shattered and strewn across the floor like confetti. Computer monitors were smashed, their screens a spiderweb of cracks, glittering under the fluorescent lights. The moment my staff saw me, it was as if their spine had snapped back into place. They all rushed toward me. “We couldn’t stop them. They beat up all three security guards.” “They smashed my computer! My data…” “A whole week of analysis, gone. Just… gone.” Before I could say a word, they emerged from my personal office. A dark, angry mass of a few dozen men, a thundercloud rolling ominously toward us. They had come straight from the construction site, still wearing their hard hats, their clothes splattered with flecks of concrete. These men had worked for me for three years. In my memory, they were always cheerful, salt-of-the-earth types. Now, their faces were grim masks of fury. Some of them even held shovels, their knuckles white. I couldn’t imagine what could have driven them to such destructive rage. A second later, one of the workers answered my unspoken question. He stomped toward me, his voice a low growl. “So you’re the one who won’t pay?” He lunged, his hand reaching for my arm, but one of my guys moved faster, tackling him to the ground. Pinned, the man still struggled, his eyes locked on mine, desperate to drag an answer out of me. His aggression ignited a fire in my own team. “You think you can touch our boss?” “Just because we haven’t hit back doesn’t mean we won’t!” The men on my side squared up, stepping forward. The two groups stood in a tense standoff, a spark away from exploding into a full-blown brawl. It was only then that the foreman, Mr. Miller, stepped forward. He took a long, noisy drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing like a malevolent eye. “Quiet!” he barked, his voice raw and powerful. The restless crew instantly fell silent. I’d barely spoken to him over the years. My only real memory of him was from a visit to his home last year—a small, worn-down house with a couple of rooms. He’d bowed his head, his gratitude overflowing. “Thank you, Ms. Blackwood. Thank you for sponsoring my daughter all these years. She never would’ve made it to college without you.” Now, he stood tall, the timid man from my memory completely gone. He looked down at me, his gaze cold. “You said you’d pay the second the project was finished. Well, it’s finished. And now you’re saying there’s no money.” He paused, letting the accusation hang in the air. “What is that, if not a lie?” 2 His words were a signal. The rest of the crew joined in, their voices a rising chorus of anger. “Yeah, a damn lie!” “My whole family is counting on that paycheck!” “Liar! Liar! Liar!” But I never said I wouldn’t pay. I said it would be delayed, a month at the most. In that instant, I knew exactly where the problem lay. I forced my voice to remain steady, my anger a tight knot in my stomach. “Get Zoe in here,” I told my assistant. At the mention of his daughter’s name, Miller took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes fixed on me. “Let’s keep this professional. This has nothing to do with Zoe. This is about you refusing to pay us what we’re owed.” Zoe appeared moments later, looking flustered. I held my temper in check. “What, exactly, did you tell your father?” The question was barely out of my mouth before she burst into tears. “I just told him you can’t pay right now! I can’t lie! The company accounts are empty!” My legs almost gave out from the sheer force of my frustration. This was a delicate matter that should have been handled by HR, but I’d trusted her. I thought that coming from her, the news would be easier for the crew to swallow. I had sponsored her for five years. She was the foreman’s daughter. It was the one task I thought was foolproof. And she’d managed to detonate it, twisting my message into a declaration of bankruptcy. She was still crying, and some of the workers who knew her started to comfort her. “Don’t cry, Zoe. We know you’re on our side.” I gripped the edge of a displaced desk, my knuckles white. My voice was a low, dangerous hiss. “What did I tell you, Zoe? I said it would be delayed a month at most. I said I would pay.” She sobbed, her words a messy defense. “But you can’t pay now! I can’t lie about that! It’s a matter of my character!” 3 My hand shot out, grabbing the nearest thing—a glass tumbler. CRASH! It exploded against the wall, and my frayed sanity shattered right along with it. I pointed a trembling finger at Zoe. “Your character? You want the entire company to vouch for your damn character? This was one simple thing, and you couldn’t even do that right! What did I say? And what did you say? I said the money was coming!” Zoe cried harder. “Just tell me! Which part of what I said was wrong?” “Go out there and ask! Find me one construction company that doesn’t have payment delays! I’m late by one month! One month!” A hot wave of anger surged through me. I lunged forward, my hand raised. For years, I had treated her like a little sister. I never imagined she would stab me in the back like this. Before my hand could connect, Miller caught my wrist, his eyes bulging with rage. “You dare lay a hand on my daughter?” I ripped my arm from his grasp and let out a cold, bitter laugh as I looked at the hostile crowd. “The company’s funds are tight right now, but you will be paid. One month, at the latest.” A wave of murmurs rippled through the crew. “So she’s not refusing to pay, just late by a month?” “The last company we worked for, we waited half a year for our money.” “A month? That’s not bad at all…” They were all from Zoe’s hometown. I remembered my first visit to their village three years ago. The villagers had brought me fresh fruit, and I noticed the dirt caked under the nails of the woman who handed them to me. She saw me looking and shyly wiped her hands on her clothes. “I washed them,” she’d said, embarrassed. That single, simple gesture moved me. I decided then and there to help them. The whole village was full of hardworking people with few skills beyond manual labor. I paid for their travel and housing and put them on my payroll immediately. The standard rate for a laborer in Oakridge was three hundred dollars a day. I gave them four hundred. I made sure they had cold water on hot days and hot meals delivered for lunch, personally checking the quality of the food before it was sent out. I never imagined that after all that, a two-week delay would lead them to not just question me, but to demolish my office. Even after I clarified the situation, the tension in the room didn’t dissipate. “It’s a trick,” someone muttered. “She’s planning to skip town.” 4 That single sentence was like a drop of water in a vat of hot oil. The murmuring crew erupted once more. Amid the chaos, someone turned to Zoe. “Zoe, you tell us. We trust you. Is she going to pay or not?” I looked at her, my heart sinking. Between sobs, she answered. “Uncle, the company really can’t pay right now.” A suffocating weight pressed down on my chest. My own staff couldn’t take it anymore. “Zoe, tell them!” my assistant, Mia, snapped. “Has our boss ever been late with your pay before?” These men had been with me for three years. Every single time a project ended, I paid them immediately, faster than anyone else in the business. This was the very first delay, and this was how they reacted. Miller’s gaze hardened as he looked at me, and in that instant, he delivered his verdict. “Sorry, Ms. Blackwood. I’ve got hundreds of men to answer to. I can’t afford the risk.” He threw his cigarette to the ground. “Either you pay us now, or we’ll keep making trouble. We’ll camp out right here, in front of your office. Let’s see you try to do business then.” The world swam, dark spots dancing in my vision. For three years… even a dog, if you fed it every day for three years, wouldn’t bite you if you missed one meal. But these men, over a single delayed payment, were ready to tear me apart. In all of Oakridge, no one treated their crews like I did. They were doing this because I was a woman, and they thought their numbers gave them the power to bully me. I had been up all night dealing with work, skipped breakfast, and walked straight into this mess. I was swaying on my feet, but in that moment of weakness, a cold clarity washed over me. If a dog bites you, you get a new dog. Especially when it comes to laborers, who were a dime a dozen. I steadied myself, my voice clear and firm. “How much? Tell me the number.” “Four and a half million dollars.” Seeing me soften, he quickly added, “Look, it’s hundreds of us, working for over four months straight. Our families depend on this…” “Enough,” I cut him off. I took a step forward, and immediately, a wall of workers closed in around me, as if they were afraid I’d make a run for it. “I’m going to my office to make a phone call.” Only when I was inside did I see the full extent of the damage. Files were dumped on the floor, drawers had been emptied, and important documents were torn to shreds. I walked through the wreckage to my desk. Standing amidst the ruins, I picked up my phone and started making calls. “Mr. Lee, it’s Evelyn. I was wondering if you were free this afternoon…” “Catherine, it’s me. I need to ask you a favor…” “Ben, it’s Evelyn…” Twelve calls. Twelve times I had to swallow my pride, something I hadn’t done since I was a child. Through the glass wall of my office, I could see my employees, all of them looking down, unable to meet my eyes. The workers, on the other hand, stared at me like a pack of wolves, waiting to tear a piece of flesh from my bones. I transferred the money, every last cent. Then I walked out, holding my phone. “It’s all there. Check it.” 5 Miller confirmed the transfer on his phone. He looked up at me, a smirk on his face. “See? You had the money all along. Why make us go through all this trouble?” I changed the subject. “The police are on their way. Let’s calculate the damages. You’ll be paying for them.” They must have anticipated this when they started smashing things. A few of them looked angry, but no one argued. While we waited, Zoe spoke up. “Evelyn… let them go. They have another project lined up. Every second they’re here is a loss for them.” I shot a sideways glance at her. One of the workers, thinking she had a point, started to shuffle toward the door. Mia, seeing the look on my face, brought me a glass of hot water. I took a sip before speaking. “You don’t need to go back to the site.” Miller finally looked at me directly. “What’s that supposed to mean, boss?” “You’re all fired.” Flick. The sound of a lighter. Smoke curled up into the air. Through the haze, Miller’s voice was laced with contempt. “Ms. Blackwood, we’re halfway through the new project. It’s not right to fire us now.” Zoe looked at me, her voice pleading. “Evelyn, they’ve been with you for three years.” I held the warm glass in my hands and looked at her. “So have you. You’re a big girl now. Pack your things and be out of my house by tonight.” She fell silent. In the dead quiet, Miller threw his half-smoked cigarette to the ground, where it landed on a pile of shredded paper. A small wisp of smoke began to rise. I poured the hot water from my glass onto it. The water hissed, extinguishing the glowing ember and the threat of a fire. I looked at the man. “Get out.” 6 They left. All of them. That night, I worked frantically to hire a new crew. The extra hundred dollars a day I offered meant I found one quickly. The new foreman gave me his word there would be no trouble. By the time I finished, the sky was already turning a pale gray. The apartment was still a mess. I realized Zoe hadn’t come back to pack at all. The next morning, she was waiting for me at the office, a resignation letter in hand. She was wearing a brand-new outfit, the designer logo loud and conspicuous. My eyes fell on the handbag she was carrying. It was bright purple crocodile skin, an ostentatious piece that screamed old money, not the taste of a young woman. I recognized it. It cost close to sixty thousand dollars. In Oakridge, there was only one prominent single man old enough to appreciate a bag like that, and he was a widower who had remained single for years. All the other men in that circle had kids her age. I had sponsored her for five years, watched her grow from a timid girl into a young woman. My voice was harder than I intended when I asked, “Where did you get the bag?” She stammered, “Evelyn… that’s none of your business, is it?” None of my business? I was the one who drove her to college for her first semester. I bought gifts for her roommates so she wouldn’t feel left out. I had guided her through every major decision she’d ever made. And now, it was none of my business. My face hardened. “Where. Did. You. Get it.” Cornered, she finally broke. “My boyfriend gave it to me.” I pointed a finger at her. “He gives you a gift like this, and you have any idea what you’re expected to give him in return?” She looked at me, genuinely confused by my anger. “Return? What do I have to return? He gave it to me because he likes me.” It was never that simple. Teenagers giving each other milk tea, I could believe that was innocent. A sixty-thousand-dollar handbag? There were always strings attached. She continued, her voice gaining a defiant edge. “Evelyn, you sponsored me all this time so I could make something of myself, right? So I could make money? Well, I have. This bag, this outfit… do you have any idea how much they cost?” Was that why I sponsored her? I sponsored her because she had stood before me with tears in her eyes and said, “I have good grades. I just want a chance to learn.” Now, she was proudly showing off her new clothes, a smug look on her face. “Do you know how much this dress costs? It’s more than I would have made in years working for you.” I grabbed the cup of coffee off my desk and, without a word, poured it over her head. The hot liquid streamed down her face, dripping onto her expensive dress. It wasn’t enough. I snatched a pen from my desk, grabbed the purple bag from her, and started scribbling furiously all over the exotic leather. “What are you doing?” she shrieked, trying to wrestle it away from me. Black ink smeared across her arms, but she ignored the stains on her skin, frantically trying to wipe the marks off the bag. “What is wrong with you?” I ignored her, threw the ruined pen on the floor, and walked back to my desk. I took out my checkbook and wrote out a check. My head was throbbing. I pressed my fingers to my temple and held up the check. She immediately fell silent. The sharp click of her heels on the floor echoed in the quiet office. My hand was suddenly empty. She had snatched the check and placed the ruined handbag on my desk. “Evelyn,” she said, her voice laced with a bitter triumph, “you must really look down on me right now, don’t you?” I kept my head in my hands, saying nothing. “Everyone has different goals in life,” she continued. “I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong.” She didn’t think she’d done anything wrong. “Zoe,” I called out as she turned to leave. I pushed myself up and walked toward her. A storm of anger had been brewing inside me since the moment I saw my trashed office. I raised my hand. CRACK. The sound of my palm striking her cheek echoed through the office. She clutched her face, the door wide open. No one dared to look our way. Everyone knew how much I had valued Zoe, how I had personally mentored her, desperate for her to learn the ropes and stand on her own two feet. I couldn’t understand how she had become this person. Zoe held her cheek, a cold smile spreading across her lips. “Evelyn, every penny you ever gave me, I will wire it back to your account. This isn’t over. You just wait.” She walked out, head held high. Mia peeked her head around the corner. “Boss? Are you okay?” I dragged myself back to my desk. The defaced purple handbag sat there, a monument to my failure. I reached out, picked it up, and hurled it into the trash can. As it hit the bottom with a dull thud, the world went black, and I collapsed. 7 When I opened my eyes, Mia was sitting by my hospital bed. She looked like she was bursting to say something. “Spit it out,” I said. She was young and impulsive. Someone else in the room tried to shush her, but it was too late. The words tumbled out. “The new crew got into a fight with Mr. Miller’s crew.” A nurse came in to check on me. “Let’s not talk about work right now,” she said kindly, changing my IV bag. “You need to rest. Eat on time, sleep on time. All these late nights will catch up to you when you’re older.” I nodded obediently. As soon as she left, I turned back to Mia. “The reason.” The others in the room tried to signal her to stop. “Boss, you need to rest. It’s a small thing.” But this was why I’d hired her. She was smart, bold, and fresh out of college, unafraid to say what needed to be said. She pressed her lips together, trying to hold it in, but failed. “Our water truck was on its way to the new site, and it had to pass by the place where Miller’s crew is working now. They blocked the road and ambushed it. The driver was scared, so he stopped, and they just… stole all the water. The whole shipment. Our new foreman took some guys to get it back, and they beat them up. Our guys have to work this afternoon, so they just bought some antiseptic and went straight to the site. The new foreman said it’s not a big deal and he didn’t want to bother you, but it is! That was thousands of dollars worth of water!” She was talking a mile a minute, her voice thick with righteous anger. I understood. Before I could respond, there was a knock on the door. It swung open before I could answer. “Ms. Blackwood! We came to see you!” It was a few of the old workers, carrying a fruit basket. Miller was with them. I would have welcomed a visit, but the moment he sat down, his words dripped with sarcasm. “Thank you, Ms. Blackwood. Thank you so much.” His voice was full of mock gratitude. “Thank you for letting us go. We’re making eight hundred a day now! You have no idea how happy the guys are.” He was practically beaming. “The new boss, he’s a young guy. Generous, open-handed. Not a penny-pincher like you. We’re building a villa for him. A real villa!” His men snickered. Miller continued, “And since leaving you, my Zoe’s found herself a wonderful boyfriend. We’ve all landed on our feet. We really have you to thank for all this.” His words were laced with poison, but I ignored them. After the laughter died down, the worker who had first tried to grab me in the office spoke up, his tone suddenly serious. “Now that we’ve had our fun, let’s talk business.” All eyes turned to him. He stared at me. “We worked for you for three years. Turns out, the real rate for this work is eight hundred a day. You were paying us half. We can’t even imagine how much you pocketed.” He paused, then delivered the real punchline. “We’re here to get paid.” My staff exploded. “Get paid? For what?” “Go ask around! See what the real rate is! We gave you everything, paid time off for bad weather… we were practically a charity!” “A couple of days building a villa has fried your brain!” Miller ignored them, flicking ash from his cigarette. His face was a grim mask. “We’re here to get paid. You owe us for the three years of work you shorted us. You pay us the difference, and we walk away.” “Eight hundred a day,” he repeated, his voice low and menacing. “You do the math. We’ll wait.”

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