The day the King was ambushed, my husband—the Captain of the Royal Guard—was busy placating his childhood sweetheart, who had stormed off in a fit of pique. I did not light the signal flare in my hand. Instead, I stood before the King, my belly swollen with child, and became his human shield. I made this choice because, in my previous life, I had lit that flare. My husband had abandoned his precious Elara to rush to the King’s side. He was hailed as a hero, named Lord Protector of the realm for his valor. But Elara, left alone, fell into the assassins’ trap and was killed on the spot. My husband said nothing at the time. But on the day I gave birth, he threw me into the Beast Pit. As the creatures closed in, I screamed at him, demanding to know why. He gave me a single, cold glance. “The King has a legion of guards. Why did I, and only I, have to return? It must be that you, with your eyes only for power and wealth, deliberately summoned me!” “If you hadn’t lit that flare, would Elara have died? The suffering she endured… I will make you repay it, tenfold!” The beasts tore me apart, devouring even the newborn child from my womb. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on the day of the King’s assassination. … 1 “Protect the King!” The black-clad assassins moved with deadly precision. I took a reflexive step back. I was truly reborn. And it was right at the beginning. My eyes fell to the signal flare clutched in my hand. While no one was watching, I hurled it into a nearby lake. Then, with all my strength, I threw myself in front of the King, who was locked in a desperate struggle with the attackers. I saw the shock in his eyes as I became his shield, absorbing blow after brutal blow meant for him. I watched as the confusion in his gaze slowly gave way to disbelief, then to a dawning sense of awe. I knew, in that moment, that my gamble had paid off. My husband, Lord Valerius, was the Captain of the Royal Guard. He was meant to be by the King’s side at all times. Yet today, with the King’s life in peril, he was absent. He was chasing after his pouting first love, Lady Elara. In my last life, I had lit the flare, fearing he would be reprimanded for his absence. Instead, after being showered with titles and honors, he decided I was a power-hungry shrew who had orchestrated Elara’s death. He had me thrown into a pit of wild beasts he had “prepared” just for me, a final, gruesome end for me and my child. Since the heavens had granted me a second chance, I would not walk that same path to ruin. I shielded the King with my life. Blades plunged into my body, but I gritted my teeth and refused to make a sound. The King had other guards nearby; if I could just hold on until reinforcements arrived, I would live. The King understood this. Though it pained him, he took shelter behind me. The assassins, realizing my intent, exchanged a look. Then, one of them drove his sword deep into my abdomen. My child. I was eight months pregnant. I felt him move within me every day. In my last life, just before the end, I could have sworn I heard him cry. This single blade felt more agonizing than being torn apart by a hundred beasts. A raw scream tore from my throat. My vision swam with red. I felt their killing intent focus on me, the final blow about to fall. A sharp, tearing pain radiated from my core, different from the agony of my first death. I felt something precious, something vital, slipping away from me. I reached out, but my hand only found the King’s blood-soaked tunic. The thunder of approaching footsteps. I heard the King’s frantic roar. “Healers! Where are the Royal Healers? Whose lady is this? Someone, attend to her!” I opened my mouth, but only blood came out, spilling in crimson waves. The King knelt beside me, heedless of the gore. With the last of my strength, I forced out the words. “I am… the wife of the Captain… of the Royal Guard… Lord Valerius.” 2 After speaking, I felt myself slipping into darkness. But a sharp prick from a healer’s needle jolted me back. “My lady, you cannot sleep,” he urged, wiping sweat from his brow. “If you sleep now, you may never wake. Think of your husband, your child! They are waiting for you!” The King’s voice joined his. “Yes, yes, that’s right. You have saved the Crown. When you recover, I shall name you Lady Protector of the Realm, and you will want for nothing. And your child! If it is a girl, she shall be betrothed to my son, the Prince. If a boy, he will be granted a great title. You must hold on! I’ve already sent for Lord Valerius!” I managed a weak, bitter smile. I was no fool. The moment that blade entered my womb, I knew my child was lost. As for Valerius… he would not come. Just then, the messenger the King had dispatched returned, breathless. He fell to his knees, his eyes fixed on the floor. The King’s brow furrowed. “Where is Lord Valerius?” The page trembled. “My lord… Lord Valerius refuses to come. He said… he said not to use such cheap tricks to gain his sympathy.” The boy’s head hit the stone floor with a dull thud. I knew Valerius must have said far worse, things the page dared not repeat in the King’s presence. Of course. In Valerius’s heart, I was worth less than a single hair on Elara’s head. And yet, I was his lawfully wedded wife. Elara was merely his mistress. He had abandoned his post, abandoned his King, to chase after her. That signal flare… I had knelt and begged him for it before he left. In my last life, I lit it, and he called me ambitious. In this one, the King himself summoned him, and he ignored the call. If he loved Elara so much, why had he ever married me? Rage surged through me, and I coughed up another mouthful of blood. The healer, his cap askew, glanced nervously at the King. “Your Majesty, the Lady’s emotions are too volatile. If she does not have family by her side at this critical moment, I fear she will not survive!” The King looked at me, his jaw tight with fury, but he swallowed his anger. He pulled a heavy, carved jade pendant from his belt and threw it to the page. “Go. Tell him it is a command from his King. If he does not come, I will have his head!” He was truly enraged now. He was surrounded by guards, yet on this day, the one who mattered most was gone. I had nearly died for him, yet he could not even summon my husband. For a man of his absolute power, it was a profound humiliation. My condition was too fragile to be moved. The healers could only keep me alive with needles and potions while they brewed a stronger draught. When the page returned again, I was still conscious enough to hear his report. This time, he was not alone. With great effort, I opened my eyes. I saw a face I knew all too well from my past life: Elara’s handmaiden, Leah. Leah had originally been my maid. But after I became pregnant, she had started poisoning my food. By the time it was discovered, I was on death’s door. I had been about to have her executed when Valerius had walked in, Elara on his arm. I still remember the way he looked at me—with such coldness, as if I were not his wife, but his mortal enemy. Elara had been weeping, clutching Leah’s hand, her eyes pleading with me. “My lady, how can you be so cruel? You are not dead. Why must you take this girl’s life? It is monstrous! Valerius, my love, perhaps you could give her to me? Though I am only your mistress, surely I have the power to save one small life.” 3 Valerius had turned to Elara, sighing with a weary fondness. “You are too kind, my love.” Then he faced me. “Elara is right, Lyra. You are not dead. Why make such a fuss? Give Leah to Elara. And in the future, try not to be so dramatic over trivial matters.” I had stared at him in disbelief. I was carrying his child, and had almost been poisoned to death, yet he thought it was a trivial matter because I had survived. There was no justice in it. But at that time, I still loved him. I believed he was simply blinded by Elara, and that as his wife, I should be magnanimous. Then one day, I overheard them talking. Valerius’s eyes were full of adoration. “You silly girl. Next time you use poison, be more discreet. If you’re caught again, I won’t be able to help you.” Elara wrapped her arms around his, cooing. “I know, I know. Thank you for your help this time, my lord.” Leah stood nearby, smiling. The three of them, a perfect picture of harmony. And I, standing in the shadows, felt as if I’d been plunged into a frozen hell. All along, Valerius had known. He had even encouraged it. I was the only one who had been a fool. The hatred from that memory boiled within me, and seeing Leah again made my blood run hot. But in her eyes, my agitation was a sign of guilt. Her initial timidity vanished, replaced by a smug confidence. “Lady Lyra, my lord says he is with my lady Elara now. As for you, as long as you don’t die, it’s fine. If you bother him again, he will send you a writ of divorce! Not only that, he will make the child in your belly call my lady ‘Mother’!” “My lord also said that he never liked you. He only married you because your family had power and could help his career. Now that he is Captain of the Royal Guard, he keeps you around out of the kindness of his heart. If you continue to cause trouble, you will have only death to look forward to!” By the time Leah finished, the King’s face was black with rage. He smashed his teacup on the floor, and the servants in the hall dropped to their knees in a wave of fear. But Leah, oblivious, strode up to my bedside, sneering. “Lady Lyra, I advise you to save your energy. Your little act won’t work on my lord. And as for this… commoner?” She gestured vaguely at the King. “If you think you can make my lord jealous, you are sorely mistaken.” “When I tell my lord how you risked your own child to carry on an affair with this man, do you think he will have you drawn and quartered, or simply torn limb from limb?” She was gloating. The King’s royal robes had been ruined, and he was now wearing a simple linen tunic. She had mistaken the King of the realm for my secret lover. The King’s expression was unreadable, a mask of cold fury. He gave a sharp, humorless laugh, and with a nod, the guards who had just arrived seized Leah. She finally realized her mistake and opened her mouth to scream, but a page muffled her cries and dragged her away. “Take her,” the King’s voice was like ice. “Have her drawn and quartered. And throw her remains before Lord Valerius. I am very curious to see what is so special about this man that Lady Lyra would suffer so much for him.” I noticed the King’s choice of words. Lady Lyra. He had already separated me from Valerius in his mind. My gamble had not been in vain. 4 The life-saving draught the healers had been preparing was finally ready. I drank it down and gratefully fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke, a strange handmaiden was helping me sit up. “My lady, the attempt on His Majesty’s life is a matter of great importance. The King has returned to the palace, but he has commanded that you are to rest and recover here, under his protection. He will visit you once things are settled.” I nodded. In my last life, the investigation into the assassination had been a long and arduous affair. It was only after it was concluded that Valerius received his rewards. The King had been through a great ordeal; it was a testament to my sacrifice that he remembered me at all. All I had to do now was wait. I was just about to speak when the sound of frantic footsteps approached. Before I could turn, a rough hand seized my chin. It was Valerius. His face was a thundercloud. “You have some nerve,” he snarled, “to have Leah tortured and killed behind my back!” “Do you have any idea how much Elara grieved when she saw Leah’s body? You venomous shrew! I must have been blind to ever choose you!” His blow sent my head snapping to the side, my cheek burning. “Is that so?” I whispered, wiping away a tear. “Then let us divorce.” I had been holding those words in for so long. I had planned to wait for the King’s official decree, to leave Valerius with honor and grace. But I couldn’t bear it any longer. The hatred and grief from my past life, combined with the pain of this one, swirled around me like a suffocating cocoon. Valerius, who had been so self-righteous, froze. He frowned, his eyes raking over me, and just as I wondered what he was thinking, Elara appeared. The previous day’s turmoil seemed to have had no effect on her. She was as beautiful as ever. The moment she entered the room, Valerius had eyes for no one else. He gently gathered her into his arms, the same hand that had just struck me now caressing her face with infinite tenderness. “What are you doing here? You haven’t fully recovered.” Elara shook her head. “My lord, I was worried about you. I came to see you, only to hear you arguing with my lady again, and all because of me. I cannot bear to see you and my lady in such pain. Perhaps… perhaps it would be best if you divorced me! Then you would have no more worries.” She began to weep, her tears falling onto Valerius’s tunic. He was beside himself with pity, fumbling to comfort her. “Don’t say such foolish things. You know you are the only one in my heart. Her… she has my pity only because she carries my child. A woman like her could never raise a child properly. Once she gives birth, I will give the child to you to raise, and I will make you my equal wife!”

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The day my wife gave birth to my brother’s child, my whole family stood guard outside the delivery room—not out of concern for Lina, but fear I’d cause a scene. Mom watched the elevator nervously. “Ethan wouldn’t take the stairs, right?” Dad called security again. “Six-foot-three. Seen him?” Jake paced, fists clenched. “If he shows up, I’ll protect Lina and my son.” But I never came. After the birth, Lina handed Mom her phone. “Call Ethan. If he agrees to be godfather, we can still be family.” She felt no guilt—just pride in giving our parents a grandchild. What they didn’t know? I wasn’t coming. I was under the scorching sun, training for a peacekeeping mission in Africa. A deployment I might not return from. 1 Lina came home after a week in the hospital. I had just gotten back from the training grounds. I opened the front door to find the whole family gathered around the sofa. “Oh, just look at him! He has Lina’s eyes and nose, but that mouth… that’s all Jake,” my mother cooed. “Mom, he’s so little, you can’t tell yet,” Lina murmured, though she was beaming. “Lina, you’ve been through so much,” Jake said, leaning down to kiss her forehead, his eyes filled with an undisguised love. My father sat to one side, smiling so broadly that new wrinkles creased the corners of his eyes. “Of course you can tell! And I say, thank God the baby looks like you two. If he was Ethan’s kid, he’d probably be a disappointment anyway.” He used to be so proud that I was a soldier. He’d always said that a man’s highest calling was to protect his country, even if it meant long deployments without a return date. But now, coming home, it seemed everything had changed. I watched their perfect little family of five, a bitter, ridiculous taste filling my mouth. Four years ago, I’d left home to join the service for a critical mission. Lina and I were newlyweds. I couldn’t bear the thought of her waiting for me, practically a widow if my mission failed. I’d offered her a divorce, urging her to find a new life. But Lina had only gripped my hand, tears in her eyes, refusing. “Ethan, is that the kind of woman you think I am? One who can’t handle being alone?” she’d said, her voice trembling. “My husband is defending our country. How could I, your wife, leave you at a time like this? I’ll take care of your parents. I’ll be here, waiting for you.” The day I left, my parents and Lina saw me off at the airport. My parents were crying, their hands clutching mine, their clouded eyes tracing the lines of my face. “Ethan, don’t you worry,” my father had choked out. “Your mother and I will be right here, waiting for you to come home safe.” “He’s right,” my mother added. “We’re so proud of you. Just focus on your duty.” I’d walked the line between life and death more times than I could count. The thought of them was what always pulled me back. But when I was discharged and came home two months ago, I walked into a completely different world. My place had been taken, firmly and completely, by another man. “Ethan, you’re back.” Jake’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. The others looked up. My father’s face immediately soured when he saw me, covered in dirt and grime from training. “Look at the state of you! Are you trying to embarrass us? Did you have to show up looking like a mess on the day Lina comes home?” “Are you doing this on purpose? Trying to bring bad luck into this house?” my mother added, her voice sharp. The same woman who used to fret over every cut and bruise from my training now looked at me with pure disgust. Lina, reclining on the sofa, glowed with the light of new motherhood. “Ethan, I know you’re resentful,” she said softly. “But you were gone for years. Even if I could wait, your parents needed a child. You can’t be so selfish as to deny them a grandchild.” Hearing her words, I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “An adopted son’s child isn’t a real heir.” “Ethan, what did you just say?!” my father roared, slamming his hand on the table and glaring at me. “If it werent for Jake, I would have died of a heart attack on the street! He had no family, and he shares our last name. He was a gift from heaven! I’m telling you, if you watch your mouth, there’s still a place for you in this home. But if you insist on making trouble, I won’t hesitate to throw you out myself!” When my father got angry, his eyebrows shot up and his eyes bulged, a truly terrifying sight. In the past, worried about his heart condition, I would have immediately backed down and apologized. But now, I just stood there, unmoved. Seeing my silence, my father raised a hand to strike me, but Jake stopped him. “Dad, it’s okay. It’s normal for Ethan to need some time to accept this.” Jake stood between us, his expression sincere as he looked at me. “Brother, I hope you can come to the christening. As the baby’s father.” I did a quick calculation. The christening was a month from now. The exact day I was due to return to my unit. In that case, I would give them a christening they would never forget. “Fine,” I said. 2 I went into the bathroom to shower. The sound of their happy chatter wasn’t muffled by the door; it flowed right through, clear as day. “Jake, what should we name the baby?” “Whatever you want, Lina. You’re his mother; you have the final say.” Jake’s voice was gentle, and Lina’s tone was filled with a soft reliance on him. Cold water streamed down my neck, clearing my head. I could still remember the overwhelming joy and excitement I felt two months ago, coming home at last. But when I pushed open the door, the first thing I saw was Lina, her belly swollen and round. There was no surprise or happiness on her face. Only fear. “You! What are you doing back?!” Before I could speak, a strange man walked out of our bedroom. “Who is it, Lina?” he asked. He was wearing my pajamas and my slippers. The moment he saw me, he moved to shield Lina behind him. Our wedding photo, once prominently displayed, was gone. Jake stared at me with wary eyes. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Jake, he… he’s Ethan. My husband.” In that moment, it felt like all the blood in my body rushed to my head. My thoughts shut down, replaced by a dull ringing in my ears. Hearing Lina’s words, Jake’s face broke into a smile, and he walked toward me. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jake, your brother. And the father of your child. I…” My fist was my answer. “You son of a bitch!” I threw him to the ground, punching his face again and again. Lina’s screams filled the air as she tried to stop me, too scared to get close. All I could think was, I’m going to kill this parasite who snuck into my life. It wasn’t until my mother’s slap stung my cheek that I stopped. My father pulled me off, and I collapsed onto the floor. My own parents stood over me, their voices a torrent of accusations. The condemnation and disgust in their eyes became a recurring nightmare that would haunt me for a long time. Later, I learned the whole story. In the four years I was gone, Jake had become my parents’ adopted son. He’d taken care of them. And then, he started taking care of my wife. That night, I sat on the sofa and smoked an entire pack of cigarettes. Lina sat beside me, crying through a whole box of tissues. “You’re gone for years at a time,” she sobbed, claiming she did it all for me. “I can handle it, but what about your parents? They’re getting older! They just wanted a grandchild to keep them company. What’s so wrong with that? Jake even said the baby would call you Dad, that he would have nothing to do with him. He’s already given up so much, why can’t you just accept it?” In the dim light of the living room, I looked at her face. It had only been four years, but it felt like a lifetime had passed. As the last cigarette burned down to the filter, I asked in a raw voice, “Do you love him?” Lina didn’t answer, but the way her hand froze told me everything I needed to know. In that instant, all my anger and humiliation felt utterly ridiculous. “Ethan, Jake will be staying in your room for a while.” I had just stepped out of the shower when my father gave the order. “You can pack your things and move into the guest room.” “Why?” My voice was flat. But they reacted as if I’d shouted a challenge, jumping to their feet. My mother pointed a finger at me. “Jake is kind enough to let the child call you Dad! But he is the biological father! What’s wrong with him sleeping in the same room as the mother and child? Ethan, stop being so selfish.” I’d heard that word—selfish—countless times in the past two months. Whenever I showed the slightest hint of disapproval, they’d use it to crush me. But the selfish ones were not me. I wanted to argue, but then I remembered I’d be gone in a month. So I just shut my mouth, gathered my things, and moved into the spare room. That night, exhausted from a full day of training, I should have fallen asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. Instead, strange noises from the room next door kept me tossing and turning. “Wait, I just gave birth, we can’t…” “What do you mean, we can’t? Lina, I’ve missed you like crazy these past few days.” “Ethan’s in the next room!” “So what? He can’t hear. And besides, wouldn’t it be more exciting if he could? Lina, tell me, who’s better? Me, or your husband?” “Mmm… you, of course…” I closed my eyes, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles were white. An image of my first date with Lina flashed in my mind. Back then, she would blush just from holding my hand. Maybe time really does change everything. 3 I didn’t sleep well that night. The next day, I was up before dawn and heading back to the training grounds. This next mission was going to be even more dangerous than the last. I had to be in peak physical condition to avoid being a liability to my team. But as I trained, the ugly memories kept replaying in my head. The loving way Lina looked at Jake. My parents’ fierce protection of him. It all fueled a burning rage inside me. I channeled that rage into my training. I imagined the punching bag was Jake’s face. And I destroyed it. On the way back, I stopped to buy a few buns to fill my stomach. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice. “Brother?” I turned. The four of them were standing not far from me. Jake was dressed in a sharp suit, his hair slicked back with gel, a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He looked quite respectable. “Ethan, it really is you! What are you…” He trailed off, looking me up and down. I’d just come from the training grounds, disheveled and sweaty, wearing only a white tank top with my jacket slung over my shoulder. Compared to Jake, I looked like a wreck. Lina stood beside him, frowning, one hand held delicately over her nose. I saw the gesture and my mind flashed back. After every training session in the past, Lina would throw herself into my arms. I’d often push her away, telling her I was covered in sweat. But she never cared. She used to say my sweat was for our country, that she couldn’t be prouder, so how could she ever be disgusted? I guess the difference between love and no love really is that obvious. “Ethan, what have you been doing to look so pathetic?” my mother’s voice cut through my thoughts, dripping with disdain. “If you have no shame, we do!” It was as if all those times she’d tenderly bandaged my wounds and cooked me soup belonged to another lifetime. “Brother, I get it now,” Jake said, his expression one of feigned sympathy. “You were discharged and couldn’t find work, so you started doing construction?” “Ethan, if you need a job, you could have just told me! I can help you find something! There’s no need to degrade yourself like this.” He sounded like he was looking out for me, but without me saying a single word, he’d branded me a manual laborer. I opened my mouth to explain, but when I saw the disgust on Lina’s and my parents’ faces, I closed it again. “Him? Let’s not have him embarrass your company,” my father scoffed, not even bothering to look at me. “He’s got nothing but a pile of muscles.” When I’d first enlisted right out of military school, my father had posted about it on social media for days, bragging about me. Someone had mocked him, saying I was just a dumb jock who was good at fighting but not at thinking. My father had stayed up all night arguing with the man. The next morning, with dark circles under his eyes, he’d clapped me on the shoulder with a proud smile. “Son,” he’d said, “you go protect our country. I’ll protect you.” But now, he was the one calling me a meathead. I looked down, hiding the bitterness in my eyes. “Well… Ethan, we’re heading to dinner. Do you want to join us?” Jake offered. “Let’s not, Jake. That place has a dress code. Ethan, looking like that…” Lina’s voice was soft, but her meaning was crystal clear. “Right,” Jake agreed. “In that case, we’ll see you later, brother.” He gave me a little wave. I watched them walk away, Jake at the center of the group, holding Lina’s hand, looking completely at ease. Fine. This was what they wanted—a son and a husband like Jake. So be it. I’d give them what they wanted. 4 Half a month flew by. It was time for my father’s post-op check-up. I got up early to get ready to take him to the hospital. No matter how he’d treated me, he was still my father. Besides, the surgeon who’d operated on him was a man I’d pulled strings to get, calling in a major favor from a high-ranking officer in the army. The doctor was one of the best in the world and rarely operated on anyone. But when my father saw me ready to go, he just frowned. “What are you doing?” “Taking you for your check-up.” “Save it. Jake is coming to pick me up. If it wasn’t for Jake, I’d be dead from that heart attack! Hmph, raising you has been the same as not having a son at all! Jake met me once and was willing to go beg Dr. Peterson to operate on me!” My father’s words were like a bomb exploding in my head. Dr. Peterson was the surgeon I had arranged! “What are you talking about?! I’m the one who got Dr. Peterson! I…” “You got him?! Ethan, stop lying through your teeth! Do you even know who Dr. Peterson is? Who are you? You think you have that kind of influence? You spent a few years in the army and now you think you’re some big shot.” My father sneered at me, cutting me off. But the moment he saw Jake, his expression changed completely. “Ethan, are you coming to the hospital with us?” Jake asked. “Why would we bring him? He’d just get in the way,” my father said, grabbing Jake’s arm. As they walked out, he glanced back at me. “Ethan, I suggest you learn to be more honest. Don’t disappoint your mother and me again.” In that moment, I finally understood. The truth didn’t matter. What mattered was that in his heart, he had already chosen Jake as his son. As for me, I was just the inconvenient one who came home from service when I wasn’t supposed to. I sat on the sofa as my phone buzzed with notifications. Lina was on a shopping spree with my supplementary credit card. During my four years in the service, I’d earned numerous commendations. The severance pay the military gave me upon discharge, I had it all deposited to that card. I had wanted to give Lina a better life. Now, it was clear that was just my own wishful thinking.

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My mother, Eleanor, dropped a bomb in the family group chat: she was bringing home a foster daughter. This girl, Isabelle, claimed to be a brilliant, underprivileged student recommended by a prestigious charity foundation. What she didn’t know was that my entire family could now hear my innermost thoughts. So, as Isabelle tried everything she could to win over my father, I stood by, thinking to myself: If Dad knew she was actually Mom’s illegitimate daughter with her secret lover, he’d probably have a heart attack. 1 In my past life, after Isabelle came to live with us, my family showered her with affection. Me? I was assaulted by thugs she hired and left to die in a corporate parking garage. Only in my final moments did the truth dawn on me: she was the daughter of my mother and her long-time lover. My mother, Eleanor, would never have married my father if he hadn’t been a self-made man who founded the Sterling Group from nothing. After their wedding, her single-minded obsession became seizing the family fortune and leaving my father with nothing. Everything was going according to her plan. But then, I was reborn. I woke up on the exact day my mother brought Isabelle home. “From now on, Isabelle is your little sister. You need to take good care of her, alright?” Mom said, a warm smile plastered on her face. Isabelle hid behind her, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, the very picture of pitiable innocence. It was this same damsel-in-distress act that had wrapped my entire family around her little finger in my last life. My father’s face softened into a kind smile as he saw her, and he reached out to draw her closer. I sneered internally. Heh. My mother’s daughter with her secret lover. If Dad knew, I wonder if he’d just have a heart attack on the spot? My father’s hand froze in mid-air. He glanced around the living room, as if searching for the source of the voice. The house staff were all in the kitchen preparing dinner. It was just the four of us. Finally, his gaze landed on me. “Claire? Was that you who just spoke?” Seeing my blank, confused expression, he started to reach for Isabelle again. I thought silently, If he knew the truth, he would flip this house upside down. He snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned. In my previous life, my father had doted on Isabelle. He never imagined that his affection would be the very thing that destroyed our entire family. Seeing my father retract his hand, Isabelle’s face immediately crumpled into a mask of hurt. Tears welled in her eyes as she tugged on my mother’s sleeve. “Aunt Eleanor,” she whispered, “does… does Uncle not like me?” My mother stroked her hair, her voice dripping with sympathy. “Don’t be silly. Now that you’re here, you’re my own daughter. You’re part of this family. Don’t you worry.” With that, she ordered the housekeeper to prepare a guest room. “Aunt Eleanor, that room is so beautiful,” Isabelle said, pointing toward the second floor. She was pointing at my suite—the entire floor was mine, complete with a terrace filled with my favorite roses. In the May air, they were in full, glorious bloom, their fragrance filling the house. My mother nodded, then turned to me. “Isabelle grew up in an orphanage. You’re the older sister, Claire. You should let her have it.” I didn’t say a word, but I couldn’t stop the sarcastic thought from bubbling up. So that’s why Mom’s been ignoring me lately. She was too busy taking care of my new “sister.” My mother couldn’t hear my thoughts, but my father heard every single word. His face darkened. He stopped the housekeeper, who was already heading upstairs. “That is Claire’s suite. Who gave you permission to make decisions for her?” “I’m so sorry, Mr. Sterling! I just thought the room was beautiful, I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry, it’s all my fault.” Isabelle was quick on her feet, immediately playing the part of the contrite victim. Before I could even speak, she had launched into a one-woman drama. This was her signature move. In my past life, it made my father pity her, while I was chastised for being selfish for not wanting to give up my own room. Isabelle sobbed. “Please don’t be angry, Uncle. It’s my fault. I grew up in an orphanage, I’ve just… I’ve never seen such a beautiful room before…” Watching her, a wave of familiar frustration washed over me. Here we go again. Dad’s going to get angry with me. I guess I should just give it to her. But… he’s the one who designed that room just for me. My father looked at me, a flicker of pain in his eyes. He remembered. The room was his gift for my thirteenth birthday, a custom design he’d commissioned himself. Back then, the company was just starting out, and he was drowning in stress, his brow constantly furrowed with worry. I had learned to bake a cake just to surprise him and see him smile. He was remembering that. 2 “Who are you, a stranger, to claim my daughter’s suite? That room belongs to Claire,” my father said, his voice ice. He then instructed the butler to clear out the storage room in the basement for her. Isabelle was stunned, clearly not expecting this turn of events. She bit her lip, fresh tears welling up instantly. Grew up in an orphanage? I scoffed internally. The moment my mother got her hands on the first investment return from my father’s startup, she bought Isabelle an entire wardrobe of luxury goods. Her old flame was in some kind of trouble, which is the only reason Mom brought her here—to push us all out. She had told my father I was too introverted and needed a sister for company. In reality, it was all a meticulously crafted plan to drive my family out and seize control of the Sterling Group. My father was a workaholic, obsessed with growing the company. He was completely blind to it. But this time, I was here to ruin her perfect plan. My mother grew anxious and grabbed my father’s arm. “Darling, Isabelle has had no one to care for her. It’s only natural she’d want a nice place to live. Why are you so upset?” Just then, he heard my voice in his head again. Mom’s old flame has a lot of connections in the city. It wouldn’t be smart to have a full-blown confrontation right now. My father visibly suppressed his anger, turning to take my hand and lead me away. Mom started to say something but stopped herself. Dad was rarely home, so this was her prime opportunity to have Isabelle charm him. But my father’s patience was gone, his mind now a storm of suspicion. My mother and Isabelle exchanged a look, probably wondering how my straightforward, unsuspecting father had suddenly become so sharp. Inside his study, my father pulled me close, his expression serious. “Claire, what’s wrong?” “Huh?” I feigned ignorance, but my mind was racing. Don’t tell me he’s starting to believe them? Well, he fell for their act completely in the last life. It led to the ruin of our entire family. His expression grew even darker, a hint of fury now coloring his features. He stood up, ready to confront my mother, but I quickly grabbed his hand. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Instead, my thoughts did the talking. No, I can’t let him confront her now. If they get desperate, who knows what they’ll do? I need him to find hard evidence on her old flame first. Something concrete. My father paused. He looked at me for a long moment, then patted my shoulder and left the room. Just like in my last life, Isabelle acted impeccably behaved and diligent after moving in. She practically tripped over herself to do chores, quickly winning over the household staff. She stood respectfully by my mother’s side, looking at me with a face full of envy as she spoke to my father. “Claire is so lucky. Unlike me… I only know how to do simple things like serve coffee.” The cup in my hand trembled, and I pulled back as if shocked, lowering my head. It’s all my fault. But if I started doing the butler’s job, what would we be paying him for? I bit my lip. “I’m sorry, Isabelle. It’s my fault. I… I won’t drink this coffee.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father glaring at Isabelle, his face a mask of stone. Isabelle, however, thought my father was impressed with her humility and lowered her head shyly. I hid a cold smile. She sidled up to my father. “Uncle, please don’t blame Claire. She’s had people waiting on her since she was a little girl…” “That’s enough!” My father finally snapped. He slammed his coffee cup down on the table, making Isabelle jump. “Un-Uncle… please don’t be angry. Claire just…” Even now, she had no idea why he was furious, still thinking he was about to defend her. On the surface, she was putting on a show, but inside, she was probably thrilled. My father shot her a glacial look. “I don’t care what games you’re playing, but now that you’re here, you will behave yourself. Stop the theatrics.” He threw a glare at my mother, then turned and stormed out. Isabelle’s eyes were wide with bewilderment. Once my father was gone, my mother anxiously pulled Isabelle aside, whispering urgently. “What happened? You told me he was an oblivious workaholic who wouldn’t suspect a thing!” My mother was just as confused. My father had always been gentle and easygoing with her, at least until Isabelle arrived. She racked her brain and concluded that he must be having trouble at the office. “It’s fine. As long as you’re in this house, you’ll have your chances. The most important thing now is to deal with Claire. The Sterlings have arranged a marriage for her with the Crestwood family—they’re the wealthiest family in the city. All we need to do is ruin her reputation.” “Then you can take her place. The Sterling Group will be ours.” Crestwood Industries was the pinnacle of high society. Becoming the young mistress of the Crestwood family meant unlimited wealth and status. As my mother spoke, a greedy light shone in her eyes. Isabelle’s mouth hung open, her gaze distant, as if she could already see herself as Mrs. Crestwood. She nodded vigorously. In my past life, I was so sheltered that I never suspected my sudden “sister.” I not only deferred to her in everything but also covered for her mistakes. Under my mother’s constant persuasion, I truly came to see her as my own flesh and blood. But they were vipers. They destroyed my family, killed the man I loved, and ultimately consumed the entire Sterling Group. Watching her lost in her fantasy, my nails dug unconsciously into my palms. Did she really think this life would be just as easy? 3 My 24th birthday was in a few days. My father had booked the penthouse suite at the city’s most luxurious five-star hotel for a lavish party, inviting a host of business tycoons and socialites. Isabelle had been remarkably quiet lately, no longer trying to get my father’s attention. She had clearly sensed his coldness and decided to stop wasting her time. David Crestwood was my childhood friend. We grew up together, and we were in love. He founded his own company right after graduation, promising to give me the world. But in my past life, Isabelle drugged my drink at this very party, causing me to be dishonored. The scandal ultimately led David to die of a broken heart. Seeing him again now, I could barely hold back the tears. Before I could pull myself together, Isabelle had already pushed her way to his side. Her eyes raked over him with an aggressive gleam. “You must be Mr. Crestwood. I’ve heard so much about your success. It’s an honor to finally meet such a prodigy.” This was how she’d approached him last time, too. David, like me, was young and innocent, unversed in the world’s darker games. While he had been dismissive of her in our past life, he never truly saw her as a threat. But Isabelle was relentless, and her unrequited love eventually twisted into a vengeful hatred that destroyed him. I remained silent, but my thoughts were a frantic storm: Oh no, she’s starting already. David is so guileless. What if he falls for her tricks? I could feel David’s gaze fixed on me. He frowned slightly, a hint of confusion in his eyes. Isabelle has been targeting me from the start. Mom treats her like her real daughter and ignores me completely. What am I supposed to do? If only David knew she was the reason we both died in our past life. He would lose his mind. David’s expression turned to ice. Isabelle, completely oblivious, prattled on. “Mr. Crestwood, I read your company’s project proposal. It’s absolutely brilliant. I love studying financial projects. I’ve heard, however, that Claire isn’t very interested in such things…” Before she could finish, David roughly shoved her away. “Get lost!” This was a side of David I had never seen. He was always so gentle and polite. This was the first time I had ever seen him truly angry. He had pushed her so hard that she stumbled and fell to the floor. Isabelle’s face flushed a deep crimson, but she didn’t dare say a word. She scrambled back to her feet, tears in her eyes, a perfect picture of wounded grace. “I don’t know what Claire might have said to you, Mr. Crestwood, for you to treat me this way.” Her words drew the attention of the surrounding guests. “Isn’t that the foster daughter the Sterlings took in from an orphanage?” “Yes, I heard it was a very small, poor one. The poor girl.” “Right? And the Sterling heiress seems so petty.” Isabelle listened to the murmurs with satisfaction, hoping David would see her in a new, more favorable light. No wonder everyone hates me. I should just leave. I lowered my head, about to turn away. David quickly stepped forward and grabbed my hand. Then, he turned to Isabelle, his voice stern. “Stay away from me. And for the record, I don’t recall Claire having a sister. Don’t go around claiming relationships that don’t exist.” Seeing her plan about to implode, Isabelle’s eyes darted around frantically, finally landing on the gift box in David’s hand. “Mr. Crestwood, is that for Claire? It looks so expensive. Claire’s jewelry box is filled with pieces I’ve never even seen before. If only I could have something so beautiful.” I had to admit, Isabelle’s acting was Oscar-worthy. Her ability to play the victim was second to none. No wonder she insisted on dressing so plainly today, not wearing a single piece of the clothing or jewelry my mother had bought her. She had even told my father, “Today is Claire’s birthday party. I shouldn’t steal her thunder.” It was so convincing it made my father question if he was hearing things correctly. Hah. So that was her plan. Dressing like that was just to make everyone think she was being mistreated. I let out a silent, cold laugh and began my inner monologue. Is she complaining that we treat her poorly? The moment she arrived, Mom took her on a shopping spree at the international plaza. She bought her five complete designer outfits, each worth six figures. I’ve never gotten that kind of treatment. Mom is just so good to her. Isabelle was still weaving her sob story. “In the dead of winter, I used to scavenge for bread people threw away outside the orphanage. I had only one set of clothes for the whole year. Sometimes, when I was hungry, I had to drink tap water to fill my stomach.” Too bad she couldn’t see it. My father’s face was now as black as the bottom of a pot.

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Sofia was my college girlfriend—or rather, the girl I paid to date me. Though I never treated her as a plaything, that’s how others saw us. No one believed a rich kid would truly love someone from her world. Then I dumped her without explanation. Years later, we met again—I was a masseur at a luxury spa, and she, now a millionaire, booked me for a private session. After graduation, my family went bankrupt. My father fled with his mistress. That same year, I killed a man in “excessive self-defense” and served two years in prison. Inside, an old inmate taught me therapeutic massage. Now, at the spa, former socialites who once chased me book sessions just to humiliate me. I endure it—I need the money. Today, as I was about to leave, the manager called: “Jason, VIP Suite 888. A major client requested you. Nail this, and you might not need to work all year.” “On my way.” I grabbed the kit I’d just packed up, a knot of apprehension tightening in my gut. The wealthier the client, the higher the chance they were a creep. Just this morning, I’d had a session with a woman who had to be over four hundred pounds. She’d periodically slap me across the face as I worked on her. A thousand dollars a slap. So, I endured it. I knocked on the door to 888. “Come in.” The voice was cool and young. I opened the door and saw a woman sitting on the living room sofa, dressed in a sleek black power suit. Her long hair cascaded loosely over her shoulders, a touch of languor that created a striking contrast with the sharp, professional lines of her attire. Her face was breathtaking. More beautiful than I remembered from college. She’d been gorgeous then, but with a lingering innocence. Now, she possessed the captivating allure of a woman in full bloom. It was her. Sofia. The girl I had “kept” in college. Back then, her world had fallen apart. Her father, a construction worker, had been seriously injured on a job site, but the contractor skipped town without paying a cent. Faced with suffocating medical bills, she’d considered dropping out of school. Her mother, however, insisted she stay, saying it would be a waste for the family’s brightest to quit. So, her underachieving younger brother dropped out instead and got a job at a bar. One night, some thug’s girlfriend looked at him a little too long, and the thug and his friends broke her brother’s legs. The shock sent her mother into a spiral, and she was hospitalized with a severe illness. Suddenly, the weight of her entire family landed on Sofia’s shoulders. It was a burden so heavy that a young college student saw only one way out: selling her body. The campus rumor mill painted me as a playboy with deep pockets. I had, in fact, tried to flirt with her once, but she’d turned me down. I left her alone after that; I was more talk than action, a smart-ass who liked to flirt but never pushed it. But then, she found me. In front of a crowd of people, she announced she would be my girlfriend, on one condition: I had to lend her five hundred thousand dollars. I agreed to the loan but told her she didn’t have to be my girlfriend. I wasn’t the kind of guy who took advantage of someone’s desperation. But the day I transferred the money, she showed up at my door. I was living in a sprawling penthouse I’d bought off-campus. It was raining, and the downpour had soaked her white blouse, making it cling to her. I wanted to look, but I didn’t have the nerve. I let her in, found her some dry clothes, and we sat in silence. She was the one who finally broke it. “Jason, until I pay back that five hundred thousand, I’m yours. When the debt is clear, you can give me my freedom back.” I wanted to tell her it was unnecessary, that the money meant less to me than what I’d spend tipping some streamer in a week. But I knew that would crush her pride. So instead, I said, “Then you can be my housekeeper.” From that day on, Sofia lived with me. She cooked my meals, managed my life, and even cleaned me up when I came home blind drunk. The girls who chased me were relentless, constantly harassing her, calling her a whore trying to claw her way into high society. She never told me about it, never defended herself. She just silently endured it. When I found out, I confronted them, telling them to back off. But that only made things worse for her. She’d get “accidentally” hit in the face with a basketball or “accidentally” shoved down a flight of stairs. I realized the more I protected her, the more she suffered. So I changed my strategy. I started treating her horribly, even announcing to a crowd that she was just a dog I kept, one I wouldn’t even let into my bed. After that, the physical “accidents” stopped, though she was still a target for vicious gossip. Then came the end. The company went bankrupt. My father fled with his mistress. I killed a man and went to prison. Before I was taken away, I did two things: I broke up with Sofia and signed the deed to the penthouse over to her as a “severance package.” And now, here we were, our roles completely reversed. I was no longer the profligate heir but a spa masseur, a profession one step away from being a gigolo. And Sofia was the CEO of a gaming company, a woman I had to look up to, both literally and figuratively. She saw me frozen in the doorway, a cold smile playing on her lips. “I hear that these days, you’ll do anything for the right price.” “Something like that,” I said, forcing down the tidal wave of emotions inside me. The taunts from my old friends had never truly hurt. But to be seen like this, like an ant beneath her shoe… that pain was real. It was sharp. Sofia nodded, pulling open the vintage Louis Vuitton bag at her side and casually tossing several thick stacks of cash onto the sofa. That bag… If I remembered correctly, it was a birthday present I had given her. She’d never once used it, saying it was too precious. Why did she still have it? “I hear your technique is quite good,” Sofia said suddenly. “Come and massage my feet.” I snapped back to the present and nodded. I prepared a basin of water, testing the temperature before carrying it over to her. Sofia lifted one leg, her stiletto-clad foot hovering in front of me. I pulled over the small stool used for foot treatments, but before I could sit, she kicked me squarely in the shoulder. “I believe you once told people that when I washed your feet, I did it on my knees. I’m not mistaken, am I?” She looked down at me, her gaze imperious. She wanted me to kneel before her. I had said those words, but only to protect her. The girls who pursued me came from families as wealthy as mine, some even wealthier. I had no real power over them. Belittling her was the only way I could think of to lessen her suffering. My heart throbbed. I wanted to explain, to tell her everything, but I held back. I was afraid she wouldn’t believe me, or worse, that she wouldn’t care. So, I dropped to one knee, reaching out to remove her high heel. Sofia kicked me again. “One knee?” she sneered. “Am I not paying enough?” She grabbed the cash and started flinging the stacks at my face. I stood there and took it. When she finally stopped, I looked her deep in the eyes. “If it makes you happy, I’ll kneel.” I lowered myself to both knees. A satisfied smile finally graced her lips, and she extended her foot again. I slipped off her shoe, carefully cradling her small, delicate foot in my hands. I used to steal glances at her feet, so small and pale, like they were carved from white jade. But I’d always been a coward, too afraid to even look for too long. “Test the water.” I scooped some water with my hand and gently dabbed it onto her perfect foot. She flinched, her elegant brow furrowing. “Is this how you provide a service?” I knew she was just trying to make things difficult. The temperature was perfect. But I didn’t argue. I just reached for the kettle to adjust it. Suddenly, she plunged both feet into the bamboo basin, splashing water all over my face and shirt. She stared at me, a cruel smirk on her face. “Jason, name your price. How much would it take for you to drink this water?” My heart seized again. I never imagined she could hate me this much. But then again, it made perfect sense. The old Sofia had been sensitive and fiercely proud. And I had publicly degraded her. If our roles were reversed, I would hate me too. God, I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell her it was all to protect her. But I couldn’t. I was afraid of her scorn. I was even more afraid that she might come back to me. If she dismissed my explanation, it would shatter what was left of my heart. And if she came back to me… did I even deserve her? I looked at her, my voice steady. “No charge. If it makes you happy.” I bent down, leaning over the foot basin like a dog lapping at a bowl. From an angle where I couldn’t see, her eyes reddened for a fleeting moment. Then she lifted her foot and kicked my shoulder, knocking me away. She burst into laughter. “Jason, have you completely lost your pride? ‘If it makes you happy?’ Or did you figure saying that would make me give you more money?” I stumbled back, landing hard on the floor. I couldn’t meet her eyes. She had no idea. No one else could trample on my dignity because, frankly, I didn’t care what they thought. But she was different. All it took was one scornful laugh from her, and my pride was already in a million pieces. I shook my head, saying nothing. Sofia beckoned to me with one finger. “Come here. On your knees.” I crawled back to her, kneeling so close. I had been this close to her once before, when she’d fallen asleep at her desk while coding late at night. I had wanted to steal a kiss, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Back then, I had leaned down to cover her with a blanket. Now, at the same distance, I had to look up at her, and she looked down at me as if I truly were a dog. Sofia tilted my chin up. “Jason, two years and you’ve become more… interesting. But why aren’t you smiling? You’re a gigolo. Is this how you treat your clients?” I couldn’t help but correct her. “Not a gigolo. A masseur.” Sofia laughed. “Is there a difference?” I didn’t argue further. I just forced a smile. She nodded, satisfied. “Begin.” How many times had I dreamed of holding these feet in my hands? But I never dared, afraid it would upset her. I figured no woman would want a man’s touch to be transactional. So I never crossed that line. I sympathized with her plight, admired her resilience, and respected her ambition. All of that coalesced into love. Or maybe I would have loved her anyway, without any of it. Why I loved her, what it was about her… I didn’t really know. I just did. In prison, the only thing that kept me going for two years was the thought of seeing her again, just once. The hell I endured in there would have been enough to kill me ten thousand times over otherwise. Thanks to the old-timer in my cell, my skills were excellent. For the rest of the foot massage, Sofia didn’t give me any more trouble. When the session was over, I dried her feet and carried the basin away. After tidying up, I managed another strained smile. “Ma’am, the foot treatment is complete. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be on my way.” I turned to leave without waiting for her reply. Yes, I was running. I was even ready to quit my job. Because this, being stripped of all my dignity in front of her, was the one thing I couldn’t bear. “Stop.” “Did I say you could leave?” Her voice came from behind me, sharp and cold. I knew it. She wasn’t going to let me off that easily. I hesitated for a moment, then turned back to face her and let out a long sigh. Under her amused gaze, I dropped to my knees again, a self-deprecating smile on my face. “I admit it. I said a lot of things that hurt you, and I apologize. If you can’t accept my apology, then please, punish me all at once. Get it over with, and then just… let me go. Can you do that?” A complex expression flickered across her face. She stood up and walked toward me, barefoot. Her fingers found the gap between the buttons of my shirt and she gave a slight tug. “Get up.” I rose, following the gentle pressure, but I couldn’t meet her eyes. “Jason, am I stupid?” she asked. I was taken aback. I shook my head. If she were stupid, how could she have built a multi-million-dollar empire? I had no idea why she was asking me that. She didn’t seem to expect an answer. Instead, she walked toward the plush king-sized bed. “Just my feet isn’t enough. Give me a full-body spa treatment.” She sat on the edge of the bed and then gracefully lay on her side, her body forming a breathtaking curve. “Jason, I asked the manager about you,” she said, her tone laced with mockery. “He said your patron this morning, the four-hundred-pound one, was praising your ‘Golden Fingers.’” “So let me see for myself. Show me just how much pleasure a gigolo like you can give a woman.” Then, right in front of me, she began to remove her clothes, piece by piece.

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My father’s one that got away came back. For the sake of true love, my father was willing to leave my mother with nothing, to divorce her and marry the woman he’d idolized since he was a boy. My mother agreed. And I, for one, couldn’t wait to see if his precious first love would still want him when he had absolutely nothing. 1 The atmosphere in our house was thick enough to choke on. My workaholic father was home before me for the first time in memory. My mother, who was always smiling, sat on the sofa with a face like stone. “Kate,” my mother said, her voice flat. “Your father and I are getting a divorce.” The words hit me like a bomb. After she explained, I understood. My father had a first love, the one that got away. When she moved abroad years ago, he lost all hope. Then he met my mother, who fell for him hard and pursued him relentlessly. So, he married her. Now, his first love was back. They’d run into each other, and my father saw it as a sign from the heavens. He was ready to burn his life to the ground to be with her. “Let’s ignore the fact that you haven’t seen this woman in decades,” I said, trying to reason with him. “She didn’t want you when you were a broke kid, but now that you’re the chairman of a public company, she’s suddenly interested? What’s she after, Dad, you or your wallet?” “Don’t you dare speak about Vivian that way!” he roared, his face flushing a deep red, as if I had desecrated something holy. He’d never spoken to me like that. I had always been his pride and joy. My mother and I exchanged a look. The disappointment in her eyes mirrored my own. “Since you’ve both made your decision, I can’t interfere,” I said, changing my tone. “No matter what, you’ll always be my parents.” A look of relief washed over my father’s face. “Kate, I knew you were a good kid. I knew you’d understand.” “But I should remind you,” I added casually, “that when you divorce Mom, you leave with nothing. You’ve poured your heart and soul into the Su Corporation for years. Are you really sure you want to give that all up?” My dad had married into our family. He was a broke but talented nobody when my mother, hopelessly infatuated, insisted on marrying him against my grandfather’s wishes. My grandfather eventually relented, but only after my father signed an ironclad prenup: if they ever divorced, for any reason, he would leave with nothing. My mother was a socialite, better at spending money than making it. My father had always run the company. But even so, the shares, the real power, had always been in my name and my mother’s. He didn’t own a single one. A divorce meant he would get nothing. On the important things, my mother was sharp as a tack. “Vivian and I have true love,” he declared, his chest puffed out. “True love can’t be measured in money. I won’t take a penny from the Su family. I’ll build a new empire with my own two hands and make Vivian happy!” What an inspiring speech. Except he couldn’t manage to build an empire when he was young and hungry. What made him think he could do it now, in his middle age? Years at the helm of the Su Corporation had given him a platform and inflated his ego. Did he really think that without our company, he was still the respected Chairman Thorne? “I respect your choice, Dad. In that case, we should hold a board meeting in a few days. I’ll be taking over as the new Chairwoman.” He stared at me, stunned. “What do you mean? The board appointed me Chairman. Since when is that your decision to make?” I let out a small, humorless laugh. “Have you forgotten, Dad? The board chose you because Mom and I hold the majority of the shares. We voted for you. Now that you’re divorcing her, do you really think we’ll continue to support you? A chairman with no shares doesn’t even have the right to be on the board.” My words choked him. He couldn’t argue, so he turned to my mother. “Eleanor, is this what you want, too?” My mother’s voice was even more venomous than mine. “Do you not understand what ‘leaving with nothing’ means? Once you divorce me, you’re no longer part of this family. Why should you run my family’s company and collect my family’s paycheck? The nerve.” His face was beet red. “I’m still Kate’s father!” “Yes, you are,” I agreed sweetly. “And when you reach retirement age, I’ll be sure to pay your alimony on time. Don’t you worry, Dad. I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of in your old age. You won’t be lonely.” My father’s pride was his greatest weakness. Hearing us talk like this, he dropped the argument. “I don’t need it! The Su family’s money has nothing to do with me. I’ll build my own success. You just wait and see!” He stormed out. The moment he was gone, my mother and I burst out laughing. Seeing she wasn’t heartbroken, I got curious. “Mom, you were so crazy about him back then. You went on a hunger strike and defied Grandpa just to marry him. Why is it so easy to let him go now?” “When I was young, I was blinded by his handsome face,” she said with a shrug. “Now, his beer belly is bigger than his head. The crush faded a long time ago. I was only staying married out of a sense of duty. Now that he’s the one asking for a divorce, why wouldn’t I be happy?” It was true. The best cure for a crush is seeing the guy when his prime has passed. 2 My parents quickly signed the divorce papers and filed them at the courthouse. They just had to wait out the thirty-day cooling-off period, and it would be final. My father began moving his things out to live with his precious Vivian. Although he was leaving with “nothing,” he had earned a lot for the company over the years and had built up a personal slush fund. My mother, in a gesture of generosity, turned a blind eye to it, not wanting to send him out completely penniless. But all their shared properties, stocks, and investments went to her. After buying a new villa, my father’s slush fund was nearly depleted. With the assets divided, it was time to deal with the company. The board meeting was scheduled for the following week. Before then, we needed a PR strategy to manage the fallout from changing the chairman of a publicly traded company. This wasn’t something that could be handled overnight. I thought everything would go according to plan, but I ran into trouble the moment I stepped into the office. “Ms. Su,” my assistant, Alex, said, looking grim. “The deal with Sterling Industries fell through.” “Sterling is one of our oldest clients. The renewal should have been a formality. Why did it fall through?” Alex looked uncomfortable, stammering. My face hardened. “Tell me. What happened?” “It was Ms. Bianca, the manager Mr. Thorne appointed. She handled the negotiations. She felt we were giving Sterling too favorable a discount. She said we’re the only supplier who can produce their parts, so she raised the price on the renewal contract. Sterling refused to sign.” “Why wasn’t I informed about something this important? And who is this Ms. Bianca? How did HR hire such an idiot?” “Mr. Thorne said she had full authority and didn’t need to report up. And HR didn’t hire her. Mr. Thorne brought her in directly.” My father was usually a shrewd businessman, never careless with major company decisions. For him to hire this manager behind my back meant she was more than just an employee. “Schedule a meeting with Mr. Sterling. I’ll talk to him myself. Also, send Ms. Bianca to my office.” While Alex went to get her, I pulled up her file. Bianca White. A degree from an overseas university—one of those diploma mills you can buy your way into. No prior work experience. Parachuted directly into a manager position in the business department. When had the standards at the Su Corporation gotten so low? Then, on her resume, I found the reason. Bianca White’s mother was named Vivian. My father’s one that got away. Of course. 3 When Alex ushered Bianca in, she wore a look of utter disdain. She sat down without even greeting me. “You wanted to see me, Ms. Su?” “You’re fired.” I had planned to ask for her side of the story, but seeing her attitude, I knew I didn’t need to. “On what grounds?” Bianca shot back, defiant. “Robert Thorne hired me personally!” “On the grounds that you sabotaged the Sterling deal. Sterling has been a client for decades. In one move, you lost us their business. For a mistake of that magnitude, who else would I fire?” I said, not even bothering to look up from my files. “The Su Corporation is a huge company. We have other clients besides Sterling. Besides, that discount was costing the company money. I was saving us money!” She sounded so convinced of her own logic that I almost laughed. I had no time to argue with a moron whose head was filled with water. “Alex, take her to HR to process her termination.” But Bianca refused to move. “You have no right to fire me! Do you think Robert knows about this? This is all because your parents are divorcing, isn’t it? You blame my mother! Well, I’ll have you know, my mother and Robert are getting married! Soon I’ll be his daughter, and this company will be his, which means half of it will be mine!” I rubbed my temples. If the daughter was this stupid, the mother couldn’t be much brighter. What on earth did my father see in her? “What are you standing there for? Call security!” I snapped at Alex, who was standing frozen, gawking at the family drama. For the salary he earned, you’d think he’d have more sense. At my words, Alex finally fumbled for his phone. Seeing this, Bianca escalated. She actually called my father. “Robert, you have to come quick! They’re trying to throw me out!” My father arrived in a flash, faster than the security guards. So protective. The moment he appeared, Bianca’s face transformed. She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, her voice trembling. “Robert, I don’t know what I did to make my sister so upset. She just came in and said she was firing me.” “Don’t worry, I’ll handle this,” my father soothed, then turned to me, his eyes blazing. “Kate, this is between the adults. Don’t you dare drag Bianca into this. She’s innocent.” I laughed coldly. “Innocent? She used her connections to get a job she’s not qualified for and then blew our biggest contract, and you’re telling me she’s innocent?” My father clearly hadn’t heard about the Sterling deal. He looked at Bianca, confused. She immediately started playing the victim. “Robert, I didn’t mean to,” she whimpered, tears welling in her eyes. “That discount was costing you so much money. I was just trying to save your money.” I snorted. She thought the Su Corporation would one day be hers, and she was trying to save her own money. My father, of course, bought her act completely. His tone softened. “Kate, Bianca meant well. She’s young and doesn’t know any better. Forgive her this once. You can train her, and I’m sure she’ll do a great job.” He wanted me to train her? I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Excuse me, do I need to remind you both? This company is the Su Corporation. As in my name, Kate Su. Not Thorne. And certainly not White.” 4 My father’s face darkened. Bianca fanned the flames. “Robert, see? Your own daughter has no respect for you! You worked so hard to build this company, and this is how she treats you!” “What do I mean? I mean exactly what I said!” My voice turned to ice. “Dad, I don’t care what your relationship is with this woman, and I don’t care about your sordid affairs. You and Mom are getting a divorce. But this company was left to me by my grandfather, and I will not allow anyone to jeopardize its future.” My father’s temper flared. “I’ve poured twenty years of my life into this company! I care about it more than you do—” “Do I need to remind you?” I cut him off. “You’re divorcing my mother. You’re leaving with nothing. The Su Corporation has nothing to do with you, and it certainly has nothing to do with this girl who is suddenly your daughter. I have every right to fire her, because very soon, you, the Chairman, will be leaving too.” His face went gray. “Kate, must you be so cruel to your own father?” I scoffed. “You left my mother for your first love. To put it nicely, you’re rekindling an old flame. To put it bluntly, you’re having an affair. You didn’t think you were being cruel to my mother when you betrayed her, so how is me stating the facts cruel?” Hearing this, Bianca panicked, clutching my father’s sleeve. “Robert, what does she mean? What do you mean the company has nothing to do with you?” My father sighed. “I’ll explain later when we get home.” He turned back to me. “Kate, Bianca is a good kid. My leaving the company has nothing to do with her. I hope you two can get along as sisters. She could be a great help to you one day.” “I don’t need her help. My mother only had one child. I don’t have any sisters. And,” I looked him straight in the eye, “an idiot like her would only be a liability. She is leaving this company, today.” My father knew my temperament. Realizing he couldn’t win, he turned to Bianca. “Go ahead and process your termination, Bianca. I’ll help you find another job later.” Bianca left with my father, but not before shooting me a look brimming with resentment and jealousy. With her gone, I convened the board, officially removed my father from his position as Chairman, and took his place. All that was left was for my parents to finalize the divorce after the cooling-off period. But things are never that simple. My father had barely left the building when I got a frantic call from my mother. “Kate, you have to get home, now! That woman is here, making a scene!” “I’m on my way!” My mind went blank. I was terrified of what that woman might do to my mother. My mom is a lovely, pampered woman—a hothouse flower, really. My grandfather spoiled her rotten, and she knows nothing of the real world. Even with a butler and staff, I could just picture her letting some lunatic into the house. If that woman tried to bully her, she wouldn’t be able to fight back. My grandfather raised me, and before he passed, he made me promise to take care of her. I couldn’t let anything happen to her.

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1 The day billionaire Jason went bankrupt, he tried to jump off a skyscraper. There I was, his trophy wife of five years, clinging to his leg in tears. He looked moved—until I spoke: “Don’t jump! My Birkin payment hasn’t cleared!” His face darkened instantly. Later, after a truck sent him flying, I whispered by his hospital bed: “Honey, Cartier has a new ring. Just 10 years of DoorDash to afford it!” Even in a coma, his eyelid twitched in rage. Floating comments called me a gold-digging parasite. They shut up fast when I funded his comeback with millions. No protagonist halo? Fine—I’ll steal the spotlight myself. “Jason, don’t jump! The final payment on my new Birkin hasn’t cleared yet.” Jason turned to look at me, pure shock on his face. “Why are you still here?” I doubled down on my act. “You promised you’d take care of me for life! You can’t go back on your word, no matter what!” The live comments continued to float past my eyes. [> OMG I see why he hates her later. She so deserves it.] [> He’s about to jump and all she can think about is bags and money. The ML is living a tragedy.] [> How else can they show how kind the real female lead is? When he jumps, she’ll appear and save him. I can’t wait!] My lip twitched as I read them. It was a long shot, but I had to try. I tightened my grip on Jason’s leg. He stared down at the river of traffic below, rubbing his temples. “I’m bankrupt, Chloe. I can’t support you anymore.” “There’s a card on the desk in the bedroom. It has five hundred thousand dollars on it. The pin is your birthday. Just go.” I couldn’t see his expression, but it was the first time I had ever heard such a defeated tone in his voice. Even on the brink of death, he was still thinking about leaving me a way out. I tugged on the hem of his shirt, my voice firming with resolve. “No! If worst comes to worst, I’ll support you!” At that, he whipped his head around, his eyes a storm of complex emotions. Before he could answer, I pressed on. “Today is our fifth wedding anniversary. I got you a present!” The wind on the rooftop suddenly howled, making his dress shirt flap violently against his frame. It made him look even more precarious. After a long moment, the man asked in disbelief, “You… got me a present?” In five years of marriage, Jason had given me countless gifts. This was the first time he’d ever heard of me getting one for him. I held out my hand. “Let’s go home, okay?” He hesitated, then finally, his hand met mine. The comments shrieked. [> Wait, what? Why is the side chick stealing the female lead’s lines?] 2 Back home, Jason stared speechlessly at the “gift” I presented. I held up the latest, skintight designer dress, pressing it against Jason’s broad chest for measurement. “Hmm,” I said with a serious expression. “I think it’s a little small.” Then, with feigned distress, I added, “And they have a strict no-return policy. Oh, well. I guess I’ll just have to wear it myself.” A choked laugh escaped Jason. He turned without a word and headed straight back to the rooftop. Before I could even react, he had vanished around the stairwell corner. I stomped my foot in frustration, letting out a sharp cry. “Jason! You cheapskate!” His magnetic voice drifted down from above. “I left my phone up there. I’m just getting it.” That dress added another two thousand dollars to Jason’s debt. To make ends meet, he had no choice but to start delivering food. But no matter how busy he was, he always rushed home at noon to cook for me. Looking at the man in the bright yellow delivery uniform, drenched in sweat, who could believe that just ten days ago he was a Wall Street titan worth billions? He expertly tied an apron and began chopping vegetables in the kitchen with practiced ease. This entire shoebox apartment was smaller than the master bathroom in our old penthouse. I was curled up on the couch, munching on the mango slices he’d prepared for me, scrolling through the eight-figure balance on my banking app. This was all just pocket money Jason had given me over the years. Then there were the designer bags and jewelry stuffed into half the apartment. All told, it was a small fortune. A pang of guilt made me glance toward the kitchen. I found him with his shirt off, a thin, pink floral apron the only thing covering his torso. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a sheen of sweat highlighting the solid lines of his muscles. He looked like some kind of sinfully hot domestic god. My heart skipped a beat, and my foot kicked the coffee table. “Ow!” 3 Jason heard the noise and rushed over, crouching down to gently massage my foot. “You don’t have to go through this with me, Chloe. I’ll pay back the money for the dress. You should… find a better path for yourself. Don’t waste your time on me.” His eyes were downcast, his voice muffled. I put on my most wounded expression. “I haven’t even complained about you being poor, and now you’re trying to kick me out!” Jason opened his mouth to explain that wasn’t what he meant, but I cut him off with a torrent of accusations. “I get it! You think I spend too much, and now you regret it, don’t you? What did you say when you married me? You said you’d support me forever, and now you want to dump me for some frugal, stay-at-home type, is that it? You heartless bastard!” Jason had to clamp a hand over my mouth to stop the stream of nonsense. His voice was tight, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled to find the right words. “I just feel like I’m making you suffer.” “The apartment is small and damp, the food isn’t great, we can only afford discounted fruit…” “Chloe, you deserve a better, happier life than this.” Normally, when the sugar daddy goes broke, the sugar baby packs her bags and runs. But after five years, it was impossible not to have feelings for him. He was handsome, rich, and ridiculously generous. He was always busy, disappearing for days at a time, but when he returned, it was always with a shower of diamonds and gold. And most importantly, even at his lowest point, his last thought was of me, leaving me every penny he had left. I couldn’t leave. I didn’t want to leave. I grabbed the collar of his apron, flipped him over, and pressed him down onto the sofa. Then I planted a loud, firm kiss on his sexy, thin lips. “You said you’d support me for life. Not a minute less, not a second less. I’m stuck with you, Jason.” A dense cloud of comments materialized before my eyes again. [> Damn, girl is eating good. Let me tap in for a chapter or two.] [> Not gonna lie, the side chick and the ML are hot together. I kinda ship it.] [> Sis, don’t go down that road. The ML belongs to the FL. This won’t end well for her.] [> Btw where is my girl?? Don’t let this evil woman fool you, Jason! The FL is your soulmate!] [> The original plot where they met was already ruined. The next scene is the ML getting humiliated while delivering food. The FL is supposed to show up there.] I pretended not to see them and deepened the kiss, holding Jason’s chin. I watched his eyes flutter nervously, a deep blush spreading from his ears down his neck. Taking advantage of a gasp for air, Jason gently pushed me away. “Ch-Chloe, the soup is on the stove! I-I have to check on it!” [> AAAAAH! A cold-blooded killer in the boardroom, a pure-hearted puppy for his wife! What is this heavenly man?!] [> Okay, the ML and his little drama-queen-trophy-wife are actually kinda cute. I’m in.] [> I’m in too.] [> People, stop letting your morals be guided by hot faces!] [> Don’t ship it, you guys. The side character is destined to be killed off by the plot. You’re just setting yourself up for heartbreak.] I had started seeing these bizarre, floating comments a long time ago. At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But when the things they talked about started coming true, one after another, I had no choice but to believe them. From their chatter, I learned that my world was a novel. And I was the disposable side character. A mere plot device to advance the love story of the main characters. First, I was the selfish contrast to the female lead’s kindness. Later, I was the obstacle that would strengthen their bond. After seeing the comments, I tried desperately to change the story. But often, the plot would take over, turning me into an unconscious NPC, a puppet on a string. Like the day Jason stood on that rooftop. The plot was forcing me to follow my script: grab the money and run. And Jason was left to face his despair alone. But at the last second, the comments woke me up. And when I saw them mention the exact time the female lead was supposed to appear, a plan began to form in my mind. 4 Jason continued to work from dawn till dusk, delivering food. I was lounging at home, blissfully eating a small cake he’d just brought back for me, when the comments suddenly appeared: [> It’s today! The villain finds out the ML is a delivery guy and orders a cake for the FL’s birthday just so the ML has to deliver it. Then he’s going to humiliate him!] [> My girl is about to make her entrance! Damsel saving the hero! I’m so ready for this!] [> Once the FL appears, Chloe the cannon fodder is done for.] [> I suddenly feel a little bad for Chloe. The first thing the ML did after a big order was buy her a cake. She must think he really loves her, not knowing that personal feelings get erased by the power of the plot.] The day had finally come. I quickly grabbed a hefty-looking designer bag and rushed to the city’s largest hotel. A welcome sign for the female lead, Seraphina Thorne’s, birthday party stood at the entrance. As soon as I walked in, I spotted that familiar splash of yellow. Jason, with his broad shoulders and long legs, couldn’t hide his handsome figure even in a delivery uniform. He was pushing a towering, multi-tiered cake when a group of rich young men blocked his path. The leader was Asher, the villain the comments were talking about. Asher looked Jason up and down, his face a mask of contempt. “Jason, you forced me out of the country back then. I never thought karma would be such a bitch, and so quick.” “Tsk, tsk. Look at you. Pathetic as a stray dog.” The group erupted in laughter. After being overshadowed by Jason for so many years, Asher was eager to kick the man while he was down. To add to the fun, Asher’s friend, Kyle, chimed in. “Hey, Ash, did you hear the best part?” “Jason’s broke, but his little gold digger is still sticking around!” Another guy added, “What a waste! Can he even afford to keep a woman on a delivery boy’s salary?” The laughter grew louder, more piercing. Seeing Jason remain silent, Kyle provoked him further. “How about this? I’ll give you a million dollars. You send that little wife of yours to my place. If she keeps me happy, I’ll…” Jason’s chest heaved. He swung a fist, sending Kyle sprawling to the ground. “You dare hit me?!” The surrounding bodyguards swarmed forward, pinning Jason to the floor. Kyle wiped a smear of blood from his lip, then strode forward and kicked Jason hard in the stomach. “You think you’re still the untouchable king of this city? You can’t protect anyone now.” Jason gritted his teeth, his eyes burning with hatred. “Whatever you have a problem with, you deal with me.” Asher shot Kyle a meaningful look. Kyle understood immediately. He pulled out his phone, aimed it at Jason, and sneered. “I don’t want to make things hard for you. Just get on your knees and crawl through my legs, and I’ll leave your precious little tramp alone.” “What do you say?” [> Using a woman to threaten the ML. The villains are as trashy as ever.] [> This is it! They have to humiliate him so that when the FL steps in to save him, he’ll fall in love at first sight and she’ll become his one true love.] [> The poor ML. Why do they always have to torture him before giving him a tiny bit of happiness? Is that the only way love can happen?] [> Seriously…] [> That’s just how these novels work. How else would it be interesting?] The comments started arguing amongst themselves. I breathed a sigh of relief seeing a few sane voices. If people were questioning it, it meant things could change. Just as the villains were forcing Jason to his knees, and just a second before Seraphina was about to step forward to save him, I charged in. I stormed in, swinging my two-hundred-thousand-dollar handbag like a medieval flail and started wailing on Kyle and Asher’s thick skulls. “Crawl through your daddy’s legs? Well, your daddy’s right here! Get to kneeling!”

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1 I’m trapped in a horror game with my ex-boyfriend. And the four-year-old boss of this twisted world has just one demand: that we become his sweet, loving parents. “Make me happy,” the little boy, Toby, declared, his voice a strange mix of childish innocence and ancient authority, “and in one month, you can return to your world. But if you’re just faking it… you’ll die here.” My ex, Roger, shot me a look of pure contempt. “Is this your latest pathetic attempt to get me back? Dream on.” I fired back, my voice dripping with equal scorn, “You must be blind. Which part of this looks like me wanting you back?” Suddenly, the irises of Toby’s eyes swirled into an inky, bottomless black. “But… you’re supposed to be in love,” he whispered, the temperature in the room plummeting. In love? Once, maybe. A lifetime ago. Now, looking at Roger was like staring at a stranger I despised. He deliberately put six feet of distance between us, his disgust a physical thing. “I don’t know what kind of freak show you’ve cooked up with this… little monster, but your theatrics are wasted on me. Let me out of here, now, or I’m calling the cops.” The words had barely left his mouth when Toby lifted a tiny hand. A swirling black mist erupted from the floor, enveloping Roger and lifting him off his feet. He choked out a strangled cry before being slammed back down onto the hardwood. When he looked up, the arrogance was gone, replaced by raw, primal fear. Toby’s childish voice now held the weight of a death sentence. “In my world, you follow the rules, or you die. Now, I’m sleepy. I want my mommy and daddy to give me a bath and tuck me in.” I wanted to live. I didn’t want to die. Neither did Roger. Without another word, I bolted to the bathroom to run the water. Roger, moving with a grim efficiency, scooped Toby up, stripped off his clothes, and lowered him into the tub. I lathered his hair while Roger washed his tiny feet. I reached for the shampoo, and without looking, Roger’s hand was already there, passing me the bottle. When he lifted Toby from the water, I was ready with a towel, wrapping him in a cocoon of warm terry cloth. The whole routine was so seamless, so practiced, it felt like we’d done it a thousand times. Toby, watching us with an unnervingly perceptive gaze, announced with a smug little smile, “You two work so well together. How can you not be in love? You’re just pretending you broke up to protect each other, aren’t you?” “We really broke up.” The words came from Roger and me in perfect, hollow unison. “But you’re a team…” Toby insisted, confused. My survival instinct kicked in, forcing the truth out of me. “We used to have a dog,” I explained, my voice flat. “A big Golden Retriever named Goldie. He hated baths, so we had to get it done fast. It’s not teamwork, Toby. It’s muscle memory.” “What happened to Goldie?” “He died.” “How?” Toby’s face scrunched up in concern. “He was poisoned. With chocolate.” A muscle twitched in Roger’s jaw. The silence he’d maintained shattered. “You have the nerve to bring that up? It was your fault! You’re the one who mixed chocolate chips into his food and then tried to blame Scarlett for it!” The accusation hit me like a physical blow, throwing me back to that awful day. Toby’s curiosity was piqued. “Who’s Scarlett?” The rage in Roger’s face softened, replaced by a flicker of tenderness. “She’s my fiancée. We’re getting married soon.” A bitter smile touched my lips. A bitch and a dog, a match made in hell. If Scarlett were here, I’d congratulate her on finally getting what she always wanted. Toby was the only one in the room who wasn’t smiling. His face was a thundercloud. “My mommy and daddy have to love me,” he declared, his voice dangerously low. “And they have to love each other. There’s no room for a third person. If you can’t do that… you’ll die, too.” That night, we lay in the same bed, Toby a small, warm barrier between us. I read from a storybook while Roger gently patted his back. Long after Toby’s breathing had evened out into the deep rhythm of sleep, Roger rose. “Claire,” he whispered, letting out a long, weary breath. “We need to talk.” 2 “Do you want to be stuck here forever?” he asked, his voice low and urgent. I shook my head. “Then let’s make a deal. We cooperate. We play the part of loving parents, give Toby what he wants, and get the hell back to reality as fast as possible.” “Fine,” I agreed. He still looked unconvinced, his gaze intense. “Claire, you need to understand this. What’s broken stays broken. We are over. Everything that happens here is an act. We are pretending. I’m marrying Scarlett. You need to move on, too.” A laugh escaped me, sharp and humorless. “I moved on ages ago, Roger. You’re the one flattering yourself.” He didn’t believe me. “You don’t have to lie. Just… help me get through this, and I can forgive you for everything you did. But you need to be crystal clear on one thing: we are never, ever getting back together.” “Okay.” He stared at me for a long moment, a storm of doubt and suspicion in his eyes, before turning and leaving the room. I waited until he was gone before wiping away the single tear that had escaped with my laugh. It was pointless. Arguing with a narcissist was like trying to teach a rock to swim. The only thing that mattered was getting back home. I could endure his self-important delusions for that. Back in bed, Roger tossed and turned, but I found the release of sleep almost immediately. I woke to Toby snuggling into my side. “Mommy,” he murmured, “can we have a picnic in the park today?” “Of course, sweetie. Anything you want.” I was sitting on the checkered blanket when Toby held a slice of mango up to my lips. My heart lurched. I had played this horror game once before, a long time ago. I knew its rules, its cruel tricks. And I knew that here, in this world, my real-world allergies were just as real. And my mango allergy was deadly. “Oh, honey, no thank you,” I said, pulling back gently. “Mommy’s allergic to mangoes.” Roger, who was fumbling with a kite nearby, let out a derisive snort. A moment later, while Toby was chasing a butterfly, he leaned in, his voice a low warning. “Stop the act, Claire. Didn’t you see the disappointment on his face? If you upset him, we both pay the price.” I met his gaze, my own unwavering. “I’ve never been more serious in my life.” Not wanting Toby to see us arguing, I got up and helped him get the kite airborne. When we returned to the blanket, I took the cup of juice Roger handed me, steeling myself against the revulsion I felt. I had to keep up the charade. I’d only taken a few sips when my mouth started to tingle, and a familiar tightness gripped my throat. “Mommy, your eyes!” Toby cried out, pointing at my face. “They’re getting puffy!” The symptoms. I knew them too well. Panic seized me. “I have to go,” I gasped, scrambling to my feet and stumbling toward the road where a taxi was idling. Roger grabbed my arm, his face a mask of irritation. “Where are you going? Toby’s having the time of his life!” “It’s my allergy… get me to a hospital…” The world began to tilt and fade, my last conscious sensations the sound of Toby’s terrified screams and the look of dawning horror on Roger’s face as I crumpled to the ground. I’m afraid you’ve reached a premium chapter. Would you like to unlock it to see what happens to Claire? I woke to the sound of Toby’s desperate sobs. “Mommy, please wake up! I just got a mommy, you can’t leave me!” When my eyes fluttered open, his tear-streaked face lit up. “Mommy! You’re awake!” He grabbed my hand, his small fingers warm and tight around mine. In that moment, the all-powerful game boss was gone, and all I could see was a scared little boy who craved a family. My heart ached for him. After I had soothed him into a watery smile, I sent him home with the NPC nanny. Now, the hospital room was silent, occupied by only me and Roger. A cold, bitter laugh escaped me. “This was you, wasn’t it?” He walked over to my bed, his expression a tangled mess of guilt and confusion. “I didn’t think… I just added a little bit of mango juice to the orange juice. I just wanted to see…” “You wanted to see if I was lying?” I snapped, my voice rising. “Roger, are you stupid or deaf? I’ve told you a million times, I’m allergic to mangoes! It’s not a joke. It can kill me!” He raked a hand through his hair, his eyes filled with a frustration I couldn’t comprehend. “I know, I’m sorry, okay? It’s my fault. But… you used to eat mangoes all the time.” To save my own life from his future ‘tests,’ I decided it was time he knew the truth I had hidden for so long. “That was because of you.” He stared at me blankly. “Because of me?” 3 “The first time I ever had mango, I was four years old,” I began, my voice quiet but steady. “That’s how my parents discovered my allergy. After that, they were banned from our house. The second time… was when your mother sent us a box of mangoes she’d picked herself.” After we started dating, I learned that Roger’s parents owned a huge mango grove. He’d once told me a story about how, when the fruit was in season, his mom had sent a crate to his dorm for him to share. The next day, he found a whole, untouched mango in one of his roommate’s trash cans. When Roger confronted him, the roommate had shrugged. “I’m allergic, man. What was I supposed to do with it?” But later, Roger overheard him telling someone else, “I’m not eating that crap from some farmer. Who knows if his mom’s hands were even clean.” Knowing how sensitive he was about his family’s humble background, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I, too, was allergic. I swallowed the words, and instead, I stocked up on antihistamines. “Before I ever took a bite of your mother’s mangoes, I took allergy pills,” I finished, my voice flat. “That’s why you never knew. I did it all to protect your fragile pride, to get your family to like me. Looking back, I can’t believe how pathetic I was.” Roger stood frozen, as if turned to stone. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “So… you didn’t frame Scarlett?” I knew exactly what he was talking about. I hadn’t known Scarlett for long. She was from Roger’s hometown, a childhood acquaintance. Her father had passed away, and the whole village pitied her and her mother, helping them out whenever they could. So when her mother called, begging Roger to let a newly-unemployed and evicted Scarlett stay with us for a while, neither of us objected. I felt sorry for her. I treated her like a younger sister. I even told her about my allergy, and why I kept it a secret from Roger, after she asked about the pills she found in my purse. Not long after, the three of us went to visit Roger’s parents. I took my antihistamines as usual, but after just two bites of mango, my throat started to close up. Luckily, they got me to a hospital in time. Afterward, Roger asked with genuine concern, “What are you allergic to? I’ll tell my parents so they can be careful.” Looking at the crate of mangoes in the corner, I finally broke. “Actually… I’m allergic to mangoes.” His face changed. “What are you talking about? You’ve eaten them before with no problem.” “That’s because I didn’t want to hurt your mom’s feelings!” I explained frantically. “I always took medication beforehand! I did this time, too, but… I think Scarlett might have switched my pills.” I had only ever told her that secret. It had to be her. Just then, Scarlett burst into the room, tears already streaming down her face. “I don’t know anything about this! Claire, I know you don’t like me, but I’m just staying here for a little while! I see Roger as a big brother, nothing more! If you have a problem with me, just say it! Why is it that you’ve been eating these mangoes for years, but the moment I show up, you suddenly have a life-threatening allergic reaction? Are you trying to set me up? Is it because you think you can push us around, a widow and her orphan daughter?” Her mother rushed in, and the two of them put on a masterful performance. “I see what’s going on here! You see my daughter as a rival! Mrs. Chen, look at your future daughter-in-law! No respect, and a petty, jealous heart! She doesn’t deserve a good man like your son!” After that circus, Roger’s parents’ opinion of me plummeted. Now, in this sterile hospital room, I answered Roger’s whispered question. “Of course I didn’t frame her. She orchestrated the whole thing. If anyone was a victim that day, it was me.” He hesitated, running a hand over his face. “It must have just been a coincidence,” he mumbled, though he didn’t sound convinced. “She’s just… overly sensitive. I’m sure she’s not a bad person at heart.” I’m sure? He wasn’t sure at all. The seed of doubt had been planted. And once planted, it was only a matter of time before it grew. 4 Two days later, the preschool was holding a Family Sports Day. To keep Toby happy, Roger and I agreed to participate together. We did the tug-of-war, the jump rope competition, and the classic three-legged race. We didn’t win a single event, but Toby was ecstatic, prancing around like a colt in a spring meadow. During a break, he proudly showed us off to his friends. “This is my mommy and daddy! They insisted on coming to sports day together!” One of the other kids pouted. “You’re so lucky! Only my mom came…” Toby puffed out his chest, the picture of pride. He was a world away from the sullen, angry child we first met. During the swimming relay, Toby noticed a patch of scarred skin on the back of my calf. “Mommy, where did you get that owie?” he asked, his little brow furrowed. I was about to tell him the truth but stopped myself, not wanting to spoil his perfect day. The little guy had completely worked his way into my heart. “It’s a burn,” I said simply. He gently poked the scar. “How’d you burn it?” “Cooking. A little oil splashed on me.” “You’re lying!” he shrieked, his voice cracking. “Why are you lying to me?!” Instantly, the clear blue sky overhead roiled with dark, angry clouds. My heart hammered against my ribs. So did Roger’s. Toby rounded on him. “It was you again! You hurt Mommy! If she was cooking, the oil would have splashed on the front of her legs. That scar is on the back! That means she was facing away when the oil spilled!” Roger’s face went pale. He shot me a desperate, pleading look. I quickly pulled the furious little boy into a hug. “It’s okay, honey, it’s okay! It was Daddy’s fault! He was carrying the hot pan and tripped, and some of it spilled on Mommy. But it was an accident, and Mommy already scolded him for it. We were just afraid you’d be mad at Daddy if you knew.” Roger, catching on, added quickly, “I was scared you wouldn’t love me anymore, Toby!” As if on command, the storm clouds overhead dissipated, and the sun shone through. Toby, after making me promise a dozen times that it didn’t hurt anymore, wagged a tiny finger at Roger. “You have to be more careful! Don’t let Mommy get hurt again!” Later, when we were alone, Roger’s voice was shaky. “That time… was that her, too?” “Yes.” The light was finally dawning. It was Roger’s birthday, the night before we broke up for good. I was in the kitchen, cooking his favorite meal. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Scarlett leaning against the doorframe. “He really loves you, you know,” she said, her voice deceptively sweet. “I tried my best to stir things up, and even though you couldn’t prove your innocence, he still wanted to marry you. He told me, ‘No matter what she’s like, she’s the one I love.’” “If you know that, then back off,” I said, not taking my eyes off the sizzling pan. She chuckled softly. “Maybe I’m just a masochist. The more he loves you, the more I want him. It’s a thrill.” Before I could react, she lunged forward, grabbed the wooden spoon from the pot, and flung a ladleful of boiling oil onto her own arm. Her scream brought everyone from the living room running. “I… I slipped,” Scarlett sobbed, clutching her blistering arm. “It was an accident.” “An accident?!” one of our friends shrieked, pointing at me. “Who accidentally throws that much hot oil on themselves? It had to be you, Claire! We all know you’re jealous of Scarlett, but this is insane! That’s boiling oil! You could have scarred her for life!” “She did it to herself!” I cried, but no one was listening. “No woman would do that to herself,” someone muttered from the back of the crowd. “A scar that big will never fade.” They all stared at me, their faces a mixture of accusation and disgust. I was a monster. Even Roger didn’t believe me. “I am so disappointed in you,” he said, his voice cold with a finality that broke my heart. “I was willing to look past the lies you told about her before. But why would you do this? Did you really want to destroy her that badly?” He wrapped his arm around Scarlett’s shoulders and guided her toward the door, never once noticing the angry red burn on my own leg, the burn that would become that ugly scar. The memory was so vivid it made me sick. Back in the present, Roger collapsed onto a nearby bench. His lips moved, but no sound came out. I leaned closer. “So what was ever real?” he was whispering. I was more than happy to answer him. “Nothing.” “Goldie’s death, the allergy pills, the hot oil, throwing away her necklace… none of it was you?” “Not a single thing.” His voice cracked with a new, infuriating question. “Then why didn’t you explain?” A slow, cruel smile spread across my face. I didn’t bother to hide my contempt. “Oh, but I did. I explained, I begged, I pleaded. And every single time, you chose to believe her. Don’t you see, Roger? She only succeeded because you were her willing accomplice.” “It’s my fault,” he whispered, his hand reaching for mine before falling, defeated, to his side. “I’m so sorry.” His pristine image of the innocent, helpless girl had been shattered, replaced by the portrait of a scheming sociopath. The shock was overwhelming him. And it was only the beginning.

The day my acceptance letter to Stanford arrived, I was in the village feeding chickens. The entire village celebrated with gongs and drums. Along with them came a couple I’d only ever seen on TV: the wealthiest couple in the country. Tears streamed down their faces as they hugged me. “Our dear child, we’re your real parents!” Just as I was about to call them ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad,’ a string of text appeared in the sky, like a spectral comment feed: [The side character actually thinks she’s hit the jackpot. She’s just going back to be a living blood bag.] [If she hadn’t gotten into Stanford, proving her excellent constitution, she wouldn’t even qualify as a blood bag.] [Even though the main character, our sweet baby, is the fake heiress, she’s kinder and smarter. Now she’ll recover quickly and get all lovey-dovey with her handsome, wealthy fiancé~] The chickens clucked at my feet. I looked down at my own chapped, rough, dark hands. And then, with all the strength I could muster, I called out, “Mom! Dad!” and got into the car with them. You think I made it from the rural heartlands to Stanford on luck alone? Think again. 1. I stood before the villa, waiting for a servant to bring me a new pair of shoes. After a while, I gave up and walked inside. Of course. No one was getting me shoes. My new parents were busy comforting a girl who was crying a river of tears. A Samoyed in a frilly dress wagged its tail and nuzzled against her. For a moment, I thought of my own dog, Rusty, who I’d raised from a pup. He was caught and eaten one night while helping my grandpa carry firewood. “Kimberley, why did you come in by yourself? Didn’t I tell you to wait?” My mother spotted me, a flash of annoyance in her red-rimmed eyes. My father’s voice was cold. “Kimberley, you need to learn some manners. You can’t bring your crude country habits here.” Well, that was fast. I hadn’t done a thing, and I was already labeled. “It’s over a hundred degrees outside. I waited for forty-seven minutes, which is beyond what most people can endure.” I gestured to my sweat-soaked clothes, my lips pale and colorless. “It looks like you’ll be busy comforting her for a while longer. I just wonder, if I hadn’t come in on my own, would an ambulance have had to carry me away?” They were speechless. A flicker of guilt crossed my mother’s face. Just as she was about to ask a servant to get me a glass of water, the girl the spectral comments called the “main character,” Stella Sterling, spoke up, biting her lip. “Mom and Dad came in first to check on me because I was upset. It’s all my fault. Please don’t be hard on them. I didn’t realize my sister would rather stand outside than come in and see me. This is all my fault…” She choked back a sob, her eyes brimming with tears as if she had suffered a terrible injustice. “Stella, sweetie, it’s not your fault. We’re the ones who have wronged you,” my mother said, the guilt in her eyes vanishing. She handed Stella a tissue and shot me a cold look. “There’s no need to be so dramatic. Why are you being so passive-aggressive with Stella? She grew up away from her real parents. She’s had it a thousand times harder than you and deserves all our love and care.” A large tear splashed onto the floor. A manipulative adopted daughter and willfully blind parents. Just my luck. “Fine. I’m sorry,” I said, my apology crisp and clean. I turned and walked away. After all, I didn’t come to this house to fight for their affection. 2. Since I was back with my real family, a monthly allowance of a few tens of thousands shouldn’t be too much to ask for the daughter of a billionaire, right? I pictured scenes from TV shows as I happily accepted the card for my living expenses from the butler. “Miss, you will receive eight hundred dollars a month on this card.” I froze. For a second, I wanted to walk back outside to make sure I was in the right house. I was the biological daughter of the richest man in the state. His company was worth billions, and this villa alone was supposedly worth hundreds of millions. “What do you mean? The Sterlings are this rich, and they’re only giving me eight hundred a month?” The butler bowed politely again. “Money doesn’t grow on trees, Miss. You mustn’t be too extravagant.” I fought to keep my temper in check. “What about my college scholarship? I remember Mom and Dad taking my card with the six hundred thousand dollars on it.” That card held not just the prize money I’d earned from every academic competition from the village to the state level, but also the compensation for my grandfather’s death in a construction accident. The butler looked uneasy, stammering, unable to give a clear answer. A voice came from behind me. “I was the one who asked them to take it, sister.” In the short time I’d been there, Stella had changed into another gown, this one adorned with enormous, very real-looking jewels. The spectral comments appeared again: [OMG my baby’s new dress is gorgeous! A true masterpiece from a famous French designer.] [If I remember correctly, that dress costs exactly six hundred thousand. They used Kimberley’s card. Is that really okay?] [What’s the big deal? She’s just a side character. She’ll be gone in a month anyway. If Stella doesn’t spend the money now, it’ll be hers eventually.] “Sister,” Stella said, her voice dripping with fake concern, “I just thought, since you came from a small place, you’ve never seen so much money and wouldn’t know how to use it. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to adjust.” “Eight hundred isn’t a small amount. Many poor students don’t even have that much. You can’t just forget the struggles of the common folk now that you’re with us.” “Also, the cups in this house are very expensive. I was worried your rough farm hands might break them, so I had them all replaced with paper cups for you.” She turned to leave, but I blocked her way and held out my hand. “Give me my money back, or I’m calling the police.” Stella glared at me, trying to pretend she hadn’t heard, but I grabbed her wrist, my voice rising. “Did you hear me? Give me back my money!” Stella, having been pampered her whole life, burst into tears at my rough treatment. Her sobs were so loud that my parents rushed upstairs. “What’s wrong? Kimberley, are you bullying Stella again?” My mother’s eyes were practically shooting fire. “Stella is fragile! Do you hate her so much that you want to push her to her death?!” Without a second thought, she slapped me hard across the face. My head snapped to the side. I tasted blood. I swallowed and said calmly, “Stella took my six hundred thousand dollars and bought this dress. That money includes the compensation for my grandfather’s life. I just want it back.” My words made her frantic. “Who said I bought this with your money? Mom and Dad love me so much, they give me a huge allowance every month. Why would I want your pathetic little bit of cash?” I looked her straight in the eye. “Then tell me, which account did you use to buy this dress? Six hundred thousand is not a small amount. There has to be a record.” “You… Why should I have to prove anything to you? I bought this dress with my own money!” Stella’s face was red with panic. My parents, seeing this, understood who was in the right. But their bias was strong. They turned to me with stern faces. “It’s just a little money. Is it worth making such a scene and disregarding family ties? Apologize to Stella right now.” “Didn’t we give you a card with three million dollars on it? You shouldn’t be so greedy. Even if your sister took the money, you should have let her have it. We have not wronged you in the slightest!” I laughed and held up the card in my hand. “The butler just told me I’d be getting eight hundred a month on this card. For a second, I thought the family had gone bankrupt. Where is this three million? I certainly haven’t seen it.” My father’s eyes narrowed. The butler immediately panicked. “Sir, it… it was Miss Stella who told me to do that. The three million was transferred to her card…” My parents’ faces tightened. But before they could say anything, Stella let out a piercing scream. She clutched her chest, gasping for air, and collapsed to the floor. 3. It was a tired, old trick, a madwoman’s performance for an audience of fools. But after Stella was “weakly” rushed to the hospital, I did get my money back. As I turned to leave, my mother suddenly called out to me. “Kimberley,” she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. “Take this money and buy yourself some nice clothes at the mall. If there’s anything else you want, just let us know.” “Oh, and do you like jewelry? You can pick whatever you like from my room.” I was still puzzling over her sudden change of heart when the spectral comments appeared again: [This money is just to ease their conscience. After all, in thirty days, the side character will be on the operating table for our main character.] [This surgery has assembled top experts from home and abroad. Failure is not an option. They will drain the side character dry if they have to. This couple has no intention of letting her survive.] Thirty days. Wasn’t that the day before I was supposed to start college? The spectral comments, oddly enough, brought me a sense of relief. If that was their plan, then I could proceed with my own without any hesitation. I immediately went to my mother’s bedroom, opened her jewelry cabinet, and began a frenzied shopping spree. I picked the heaviest gold necklaces, filled all ten fingers with rings, chose the largest gemstones, and made sure not a single wrist or ankle was left bare. Satisfied, I returned to my room, took out my own safe, and stashed everything inside. I had enough money. Now I just needed to wait for the right time to escape. I immediately contacted a real estate agent to buy a house in the city, then fell into a deep, contented sleep. That evening, my parents threw a small welcome dinner for me. As I finished my makeup and prepared to go downstairs, I heard voices from the landing. “Stella, your parents are so biased. They already have you, why did they have to bring that country bumpkin back? It’s just asking for trouble.” “It’s obvious that Kimberley girl is just a gold digger. You need to be careful she doesn’t run off with all the money.” I peeked through a crack in the door. Stella was standing on the stairs with a few other young men and women, her face a mask of practiced sorrow. A boy with short, silver hair and strikingly handsome features put his arm around her shoulder, his voice loud and clear. “I’d like to see which hick dares to take what belongs to Stella. They must have a death wish.” So this was him. The ridiculously wealthy, arrogant heir the comments mentioned, Liam Vanderbilt. Just like my parents, his eyes were bad, and his brain wasn’t much better. No wonder he couldn’t get into Stanford. I waited patiently for them to finish trash-talking me before I opened the door and walked out. The air went silent. The girls wrinkled their noses, letting out soft, disdainful snorts. But the boys’ eyes were wide with surprise. Especially the silver-haired one. His gaze was glued to me. My father had been handsome in his youth, and after making his fortune, he married my mother, a famous actress. I had inherited the best of both of them. It was just that years of farm work had tanned my skin, a stark contrast to the pale, delicate complexions of these rich kids. “You must be Stella’s newly found sister?” he said, his tone surprisingly soft and gentle. “I heard you were the top scholar in our province this year and got into Stanford.” “My sister grew up in the countryside, you know,” Stella said, stepping between Liam and me, a flash of jealousy in her eyes. “She had nothing to do but study. I envy her for having so much time. I, on the other hand, have been swamped with lessons in tea ceremony, flower arrangement, and equestrianism since I was little. If I had even a tenth of my sister’s dedication, I probably would have gotten into Stanford too.” She pouted, her voice full of feigned regret. “I really envy you, sister.” I had to laugh. “You envy me? You wake up whenever you want and have a chauffeur drive you to school, while I have to get up at four in the morning and walk four hours on a mountain path. You have eggs, ham, and sandwiches for breakfast, a different meal every day, while I have to make do with a scoop of lard mixed with rice. You have so many extracurricular activities, while I have nothing but studying and farm work. Do you have any idea what it’s like to carry a shoulder pole heavier than yourself on a mountain path?” “Stella, this life you have was supposed to be mine. You’ve been living in my place for so long, and now you have the gall to play the victim? What kind of act are you putting on?” 4. That manipulative little act of hers was no match for a brain. My barrage of words left her speechless. She stared at me, wide-eyed, then stomped her foot in frustration, on the verge of tears. But Liam, standing behind her, was looking at me with admiration. “Kimberley, I had no idea you’d been through so much. You’re not like any other girl I’ve met.” I wasn’t a fool. I wasn’t going to fall for some cliché “arrogant rich boy falls for the poor but plucky girl” storyline. I turned and walked away. Behind me, I heard the crude chatter of the other boys. “She’s a little tan, but her features are interesting. And that body…” “Hahaha, you have some weird tastes. I didn’t know you were into country girls.” But Liam threw a punch. “Shut up. What have I always told you? Don’t talk about girls like that.” I found it all so boring. I’d rather be doing a practice exam. Soon, the banquet began. My parents sat beside Stella, urging her to eat more, as if she were the guest of honor, afraid of neglecting her in the slightest. “Stella, have some of this braised shark fin. It’s your favorite,” my father said, placing a piece on her plate. “And drink more soup. It’s good for your stomach and your skin,” my mother added, ladling a bowl of red date and white fungus soup for her. I lowered my head and mechanically ate the seafood porridge in front of me, feeling like a complete stranger. “What’s wrong?” Liam’s voice came from above me, startling me. He was sitting across from me, his eyes on me. I finally snapped back to reality. “Are you talking to me?” I froze. Suddenly, my arm started to itch. I looked down and saw a red rash breaking out. An allergic reaction. My throat was swelling up, and the terrifying sensation of suffocation began to set in. I realized then that all the dishes had been sprinkled with chopped cilantro. I pushed my chair back abruptly. “You’ve seen my medical report. I’m allergic to cilantro. I need to go to the hospital right now!” “Sister.” Stella blocked my path, her grip surprisingly strong, her eyes filled with tears. “We went to so much trouble to throw this welcome dinner for you. There was nothing wrong with your medical report. I know you just don’t like this ingredient. If you don’t like it, you could have just said so. But this is our gesture of goodwill…” Her nails dug into my skin. She bit her lip. “Sister, there are so many guests here tonight. If you just walk out like this, have you considered how it will make our family look? If you’re unhappy, you can take it out on me in private. You can hit me, yell at me, whatever you want…” I felt like I was about to pass out. My father’s eyes turned cold. “Our family doesn’t tolerate liars. Don’t use these tactics to get what you want. I won’t stand for this kind of behavior!” A burning sensation was spreading through my throat. I tried to speak, but no words would come out. I tried to gesture, but Stella, sensing my intent, grabbed my hand. “Sister, please don’t make things difficult for me. I truly want to be good sisters with you. I don’t know why you have such a prejudice against me.” She sobbed. Even her friends were starting to notice something was wrong. “I don’t know, she looks like she’s about to faint. I don’t think she’s faking.” “Ignore her. She’s just putting on a show. She needs to learn her lesson.” My mother didn’t even look at me. In the end, it was Liam who forced his way through, scooped me up in his arms, pushed Stella aside, and drove me to the hospital. As my consciousness faded, I was transported back to my childhood. I’d accidentally eaten cilantro at a neighbor’s house and had an allergic reaction. Grandpa had come running, his face red with panic, and carried me to the village clinic. He had just come back from the fields and didn’t know it was an allergy. He thought I was gravely ill. All the way there, his voice trembled as he prayed. “Oh, merciful heavens, take my life in exchange for my granddaughter’s. Please, protect her. Let nothing happen to Kimberley. If you must take someone, take me…” After that, Grandpa was incredibly careful about my food. Even when I went to boarding school in town, he would walk for a day and a night to get there. He would stand before my teacher, his back bent, and say with the utmost sincerity, “I’m sorry to bother you, teacher. Kimberley is allergic to cilantro. She can’t eat it. Please, could you keep an eye on her?” After the teacher nodded, the wrinkles around Grandpa’s eyes would smooth out. He would press his palms together and repeat, his voice full of gratitude, “Thank you so much, teacher. I’m so sorry for the trouble.” He would leave with his woven bag, filled with the potatoes the teachers had refused, and walk for hours to a construction site to work. … Carrying a hundred-pound bag of cement up eight flights of stairs earned him four dollars. When he climbed the stairs, his palms were practically flat against the floor, pushing himself up step by step under the foreman’s urging. Then he would say, with sincere humility, “Thank you, boss.” During my school breaks, I would sneak off to help him carry cement, and I developed a severe back problem at a young age. What could four dollars buy? A single lunch for me during my school days. And what could two hundred thousand dollars buy? The life my grandfather lost when he fell from a high-rise due to a safety oversight at that same construction site. … When I first arrived at the Sterling house, I stood outside under the scorching sun for forty-seven minutes. I just wanted to know what my grandfather must have felt. Money really is a wonderful thing. It can buy everything a poor person has: dignity, life. “Kimberley, don’t cry. It’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise…” Liam’s voice pulled me back to reality. He was clumsily wiping away my tears. And until he brought me to the hospital, my so-called parents never showed up.

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At the Harvest Banquet, my sister drank a drugged wine, and I was made to be her cure. Afterward, our mother revealed we shared no blood and insisted I marry her. But my sister, Seraphina, believed this decree of fate had ruined her life. In a drunken rage, she tried to end her own life with a sword. I lost the use of my hands saving her. Finally, her eyes red with tears, she agreed to the marriage. But once we were wed, she locked me away, forcing me to work as the lowest stable hand. She watched as my ruined hands were followed by crippled legs. After she had my last rib broken, the physician declared I was on death’s door. So she gouged out my eyes and had me thrown into a mass grave, left for the wild beasts. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she was drugged. This time, Seraphina, I will let you have your love. 1 A hot, wet kiss landed on my ear, and my eyes flew open. I was met with the sight of my sister, Seraphina, her clothes in disarray, her face flushed from the drug coursing through her veins. Her eyes were glazed over with a feverish haze, on the verge of losing all reason. “Cedric, I’m so hot…” A burning hand slid to my waist, and it was then I realized: I had been reborn to the day she was poisoned. All the tragedies of my past life began on this very day. At the Harvest Banquet, someone had drugged her. By a cruel twist of fate, I was the one who walked into her chamber. One night of passion led to a lifetime of torment, my legs broken, my dignity shattered as I was treated like an animal. I shoved her away, hard. The jolt of pain seemed to bring a sliver of clarity back to her. Her gaze dropped to my own disheveled collar, and her eyes filled with an unspeakable contempt. “Cedric Valerius, do not think for a moment that by disgracing me this way, you can win my affection!” she spat. “My heart belongs to Tristan, and Tristan alone!” A thousand tiny needles pricked at my heart. I pushed her away again, fighting the sickening heat rising in my own body. “I’ll go get Tristan now.” A flicker of surprise crossed Seraphina’s face, replaced by a sharp, scrutinizing stare. “You’d really be so kind?” I simply grunted in affirmation and pushed the door open. It took less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea to return with Tristan. He saw Seraphina on the bed, her face flushed and beautiful, and his eyes immediately reddened with theatrical tears. “Cedric… I know you love her, but how could you do this? She is your sister!” I ignored his deliberate, poisonous words. “She needs you right now. Once you are bound as husband and wife, Mother will no longer stand in your way. Go to her. She’s about to lose control.” In my past life, while Seraphina still had a shred of sanity, she had bitten her own tongue until it bled and broken several of her own fingers trying to resist the drug’s pull. In the end, she still succumbed. But now Tristan was here. She wouldn’t have to endure that agony again. Soon, I heard my sister’s shy gasp from within the room, followed by the sound of fabric tearing. Tristan’s low, guttural moan was audible even through the door. “Seraphina, I love you, I truly love you…” I had heard those same impassioned sounds countless times in our past life, but her eyes had only ever held hatred for me. When had there ever been love? I took a deep, shuddering breath. The stone in my chest finally settled. In this life, the twisted fate between Seraphina and me would not continue. Tristan was once a stable hand I’d rescued from the hunting grounds. I had treated him like a brother. But he had repaid my kindness by destroying the entire field of poppies Seraphina had planted for me. Only Tristan knew what those flowers meant to me, and only he knew of my secret, forbidden affections for my sister. When I confronted him, he’d cried, sliced open his own palm, and knelt at my door, begging for his life. Seraphina had stumbled upon this scene. Her heart moved with pity, she took him in as her personal attendant. From that day on, Tristan repeatedly played the victim, feigning weakness and sorrow in front of her, turning her against me with each passing day. I tried to tell her what he’d done, but she had only raged at me. “A privileged lord like you could never understand the helplessness and pain Tristan has endured.” Remembering the defiant glint in Tristan’s eyes, I finally understood. It had all been his design. For a lowly servant to marry into the noble House of Valerius, this was his only path. In my last life, I had ruined his plan. This time, I would watch my sister walk right into his trap. The poison in my own veins began to burn. The other reason I hadn’t been able to refuse Seraphina in my past life was because I, too, had drunk the drugged wine, my reason stripped away. While I still had some control, I pushed open the door to a nearby chamber, not noticing the woman already inside. Before she could speak, my arms were around her waist. Her skin was cool against mine, and I pressed myself against her, desperate for relief. The woman stiffened, seeming to frown as she tried to push me away. “Help me…” I pleaded. As I fumbled with my belt, I vaguely heard her speak my name. “Cedric Valerius, this is of your own free will.” So noisy. I closed my eyes and silenced her with a kiss. A soft sigh escaped her lips. “Since you’re the one who came to me, you’d better not regret it.” The next moment, I was pushed onto the bed, and a storm of kisses descended upon me. After the feverish night, I found myself drifting back to a memory of my past life. It was the Lantern Festival. Seraphina had taken me to release lanterns on the river, and I had slipped and fallen in. She had dived in after me without a thought for her fine clothes, pulling me from the freezing water. When I brought her home, I saw a gash on her arm so deep I could see the bone. My face was a mask of fury as I cleaned the wound, but she just smiled and said that protecting me was her honor. At that moment, I was lost in the sweet, swelling affection in my heart, completely blind to the jealousy and venom hiding in Tristan’s eyes. I don’t know how I got back to my chambers. When I woke, I was already in my bed. Looking around at the familiar furnishings, a bitter laugh escaped me. Everything in this room was arranged according to Seraphina’s tastes. For more than a decade, she had been my world, and I had spent every ounce of my being trying to please her. I tried to sit up, but my body ached with an unbearable soreness. The memory of yesterday’s reckless abandon brought a flush to my cheeks. Just then, the door opened. It was Seraphina, carrying a bowl of medicinal soup. “You had a high fever yesterday. Mother asked me to bring you this.” She reached out to touch my forehead, but instead of leaning into her touch as I always had, I recoiled, my face cold. Her expression instantly soured. She slammed the bowl down on the table. “I come to check on you, casting aside my grievances, and this is how you act?” Yes. In my past life, a single glance from her was a gift I should have been eternally grateful for. But this time, I didn’t want it. “Is this some new game of yours? Playing hard to get?” Seraphina sneered, assuming this was just another ploy for her attention. She grabbed my wrist, her voice sharp. “Cedric, get rid of these filthy thoughts you have for me! And stop these disgraceful schemes.” She paused, then threw a small packet of powder at my feet. “What happened yesterday concerns Tristan’s honor. You will keep your mouth shut. And also…” Honor? In my past life, after I had been her cure, she had broadcast the affair to the entire capital. Everyone in Cynebury knew I was a shameless deviant who had forced himself on his own sister. No one would associate with me again. Mother had fallen ill from the shame. I had wept and begged her, but she’d simply said I had brought it all upon myself. So she did understand the power of gossip. She knew the sting of rumors. She just didn’t love me. “Seraphina, believe it or not, what happened yesterday had nothing to do with me. It was—” She cut me off with a cold laugh. “Who else would do something so disgusting?” “Whether you like it or not, I am going to marry Tristan.” Meeting her scornful gaze, I bit my lip until I could taste blood. “Seraphina, I stopped loving you long ago!” She snorted, knocked over the medicine bowl, and stormed out. I got up and began to pack away everything Seraphina had ever given me. The room was instantly bare, but for the first time, I felt a sense of peace. So this was what it felt like to let her go. It wasn’t so hard after all. After that day, I moved to our family’s country estate, avoiding Seraphina completely. Even at the inescapable banquets in the capital, I would find a seat as far from her as possible. Mother visited me several times, telling me that Seraphina thought I was deliberately avoiding her. I didn’t know how to explain, so I just silently accepted the accusation. One day, Mother summoned me back to the main house for dinner. The moment I stepped inside, I saw Seraphina and Tristan in the side hall. Mother was seated at the head of the table, her face a thundercloud. Tristan looked as if he had been crying. Upon seeing me, he immediately stood. “My lord, let me get you some soup…” Seraphina yanked him back down, her voice laced with a gentle indulgence I had never heard before. “He has hands, doesn’t he? Why are you serving him?” Tristan answered meekly, “It is my duty. I am used to it.” Seraphina’s face darkened, and she snapped at a nearby servant for being blind. Before she could say more, Mother threw her spoon down. “Is it not a servant’s duty to serve his master?” Seraphina bristled. “He is my man—” “As long as I draw breath, he will never marry into this house!” At this, Tristan’s eyes welled with tears. “Seraphina, I can do it. Please, don’t anger the Matron on my account.” Mother, furious, swept out of the room. Seraphina turned a cold glare on me. “What nonsense have you been feeding Mother now? She comes back and immediately starts attacking Tristan!” I presumed Mother, thinking Tristan was the reason I was hiding from Seraphina, had reprimanded him. Before I could explain, Seraphina took Tristan’s arm and left, not sparing me a single glance. A few days later was Mother’s birthday banquet. The entire estate was decked in lanterns and silks, buzzing with festivity. Seraphina moved through the crowd with effortless grace. I, however, felt suffocated. I slipped away to the small garden for some air, only to see Tristan fawning over a woman. “Your Grace, look how beautifully the lotuses bloom,” he cooed. “I also have some sweet cream pastries I made myself. Would you care to try one?” He smiled charmingly, his body subtly brushing against hers. The woman looked familiar, though I couldn’t place her. A passing maid informed me she was Lady Isolde, the only daughter of the Duke of Ashford, the most powerful man in the kingdom. It was rumored she was cold and merciless, unwilling to marry. Even though my feelings for Seraphina were gone, she was still my sister. The honor of House Valerius could not be trampled by the likes of Tristan. I strode forward. “As an attendant, shouldn’t you be with my sister instead of serving someone else here?” A flash of embarrassment crossed Tristan’s face. Knowing he was in the wrong, he quickly put down the pastries. As he turned to leave, his eyes shot me a look of pure venom. With him gone, I was about to return to the banquet when a hand caught my arm. The woman’s face was suddenly very close to mine. This time, I saw it clearly: the small, crimson mole on the bridge of her nose. My face burned. She, however, seemed to expect it, a light, knowing smile on her lips. “What’s the matter? Last time, weren’t you begging me to save you?” Her familiar, exotic perfume filled the air, and the memory of that wild night flooded my mind. I stumbled back a step. “Lord Cedric, are you thinking of—” Before she could finish, a sharp cry came from behind me. Seraphina rushed forward and pulled me behind her, her eyes blazing. “Cedric! Alone with a woman! Have you no sense of propriety?” This was absurd. I shook her hand off, my face a cold mask. This only seemed to infuriate her more. “Do you think you can grab my attention with these cheap tricks? That I would actually care?” Her righteous indignation was so baffling I could only offer a weary explanation. “I wasn’t.” Seraphina let out a derisive snort, her eyes full of mockery. “Are you going to tell me you don’t love me? That you don’t crave my attention?” To be humiliated like this, in front of Lady Isolde, my face felt like it was on fire. “I followed Tristan here. He was with an—” But Seraphina would never believe me. She cut me off with a frown. “Enough, Cedric! I know you love me, but that’s no reason to push the blame onto Tristan!” “If he hadn’t told me, I would have never known how shameless you truly are!” Her words choked off anything else I might have said. A bitter sting filled my nose. “Sister,” I said, my voice flat. It had been a long time since she had heard me use that formal title. She froze. I continued, enunciating each word. “I will never love you again.” “I will take a wife, and you and I will be nothing to each other.” After the disaster at the birthday banquet, I agreed to a marriage alliance Mother had proposed long ago. The bride was to be Lady Isolde. Mother studied me for a long moment before sighing and promising she would try. To her surprise, when she arrived at the Duke of Ashford’s estate, before she could even state her purpose, the Duchess herself proposed the match. They had already prepared the dowry, waiting only for my consent. I had chosen Isolde not only because she was the woman from that feverish night, but because of something else. In my past life, as I lay dying in the mass grave, wrapped in a straw mat, she had come for me in the pouring rain. On that cold, wet night, she had held my broken body, her voice choked with sobs. “I’m too late. I’m too late.” Once the engagement was set, Isolde began to visit me often. We went boating on the lake, listened to minstrels in the city, and walked through snow-covered woods to find winter blossoms. One day, she presented me with a sprig of vibrant red wintersweet, her smile as radiant as jade. “Lord Cedric, the plum blossoms in the countryside are in full bloom. Won’t you come see them with me?” I put down my book and snuck out of the estate with her. From a distance, Tristan saw us and pointed us out to Seraphina. Seraphina merely glanced our way before saying dismissively, “That’s not Cedric. He knows I don’t like him getting close to other women.” At that very moment, Isolde and I were drinking wine and composing poetry, completely at ease. Half a year was more than enough time for me to know that Isolde was the woman I wanted to marry.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393626”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My arm was linked with a gorgeous model’s, and we were trading flirtatious glances. Across the room, Matt Itzin was gripping a kitchen knife, his face as dark as a thundercloud. Yes, I was a guest star on a reality dating show. And the director’s brilliant idea for my role? Seduce my ex-boyfriend Matt’s on-screen partner. 1. After my breakup with Matt Itzin, I got an invitation to a reality dating show. My job as a guest star was to be the villain, the pot-stirrer sent in to wreak havoc on the show’s established couples. It was a recipe for drama, a surefire way to go viral—even if for all the wrong reasons. The pay was great. For a struggling, D-list actress like me, I had neither the right nor the reason to refuse. Besides, only a fool turns down good money. After a moment’s thought, I gladly accepted. But the second I dragged my small suitcase into the show’s villa, regret hit me like a ton of bricks. Matt Itzin was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smug, triumphant look dancing in his eyes. “Regrets?” he murmured, leaning in so close his breath warmed my ear. I straightened my spine, refusing to be intimidated. I tilted my head away, escaping the heat that was making my ears burn. I arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice sharp. “You’re in my way.” He mimicked my expression. “Is that so? What a shame.” I didn’t hesitate. I shouldered past him, my body brushing against his in the narrow doorway. The contact was brief, but it was enough. I felt his breath hitch, his body tense. Maybe I’d pushed too hard, or maybe it was something else entirely. I didn’t care to find out. The small act of defiance did little to quell my anger; instead, it only stirred up hazy, heated memories of our bodies tangled together. Matt and I hadn’t exactly parted on good terms. A month ago, some paparazzo had snapped photos of us entering the same hotel minutes apart. The online fallout was instantaneous, and the weight of public opinion came crashing down on me. I’d never had that kind of attention before, and I couldn’t handle it. A week ago, I’d told him it was over. Of course, Matt hadn’t agreed. I blocked his number, his socials—every possible way he could reach me. I even found a new apartment. I’d buried my head in the sand like an ostrich, but it had worked. At least, I’d been confident it had worked. Confident enough to think I could face him again without falling apart. One look, and that confidence shattered. I practically sprinted to my assigned room, dragging my luggage behind me. The moment the lock clicked shut, I felt my soul rush back into my body. “Phoebe, could you be any more of a coward?!” I raged at myself in the silent room. The sharp ping of a text message cut through the quiet. It was the director, summoning everyone to the main living area. I might be a nobody, but I was a professional. I quickly composed myself, plastered on a smile, and headed downstairs to meet the rest of the cast. “Hi, Phoebe! I’m Mia,” a tall, stunning model greeted me, warmly linking her arm through mine. According to the script, Mia and Matt were supposed to be the show’s golden couple. My job was to do everything in my power to break them up. It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it. The male contestants were in the kitchen, putting on a show of their culinary skills. Some magnetic pull drew my eyes that way. Matt’s physique was, to put it mildly, flawless. Tall and lean, the crisp white shirt he wore only hinted at the muscle beneath, creating an aura of restrained temptation. As if he could feel my gaze, he froze mid-chop and looked up, his eyes meeting mine. In that split second, I whipped my head back toward Mia, but it was too late. Mia caught the unguarded emotion in my eyes and a flicker of understanding crossed her face. Her professionalism, however, seemed to have been channeled into her role. “I get it,” she whispered, then leaned in closer, her gaze locked on mine. To anyone watching, we were practically snuggling, exchanging intimate glances. Her intense stare was almost too much. I let my eyes drift away, and they landed, inevitably, back in the kitchen. Matt still held the knife. He was staring directly at us, his face impossibly dark. This dating show was all about fast-paced drama, airing the same day it was filmed with minimal editing. It was raw, and it was real. After the first day’s broadcast, the internet exploded. The gossip about Matt and me hadn’t even died down, and here I was, already getting cozy with his on-screen partner, Mia. Some people thought I was just desperate for fame. Others found it thrilling. What’s more dramatic than a love triangle? A love triangle where the “other woman” sets her sights on the girl! The #PhoebeMia ship started trending, and suddenly, we both had a taste of real fame. Mia pulled me aside later, a glint in her eye. She thought we’d stumbled onto a goldmine—a perfect path back into the spotlight. We decided to pitch it to the director. But the moment we walked into the director’s office, my courage evaporated. There he was: Matt Itzin, our resident “Dark and Brooding Superstar,” his face a mask of irritation as he spoke with the director. He looked up as the door opened, his gaze zeroing in on me. My knees felt weak. If Mia hadn’t been holding onto my arm, I would have bolted. “Phoebe, Mia? What’s up?” the director asked, oblivious. “Director, we… um…” Matt’s stare was like a physical weight, pinning me to the spot. My throat went dry, a wave of guilt washing over me. “Since Matt’s here anyway,” Mia said, jumping in smoothly, “Phoebe and I were talking, and we think we’ve found a new angle.” “A new angle?” It wasn’t the director who answered. It was Matt. “Yeah, Matt,” Mia said, completely missing the dangerous edge in his voice. “The #PhoebeMia ship is blowing up online. If we lean into it, the show’s ratings will go through the roof…” With every word Mia spoke, Matt’s expression grew darker. By the time she finished, he looked like he was about to spontaneously combust. The director nervously wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “Is that what you want, too?” Matt’s eyes had never left me. He bit out the words, each one a sharp, jagged stone. Under that intense pressure, something inside me snapped. A sudden, reckless courage surged through me. I lifted my chin and met his gaze head-on. “That’s right. I think Mia and I… we make a better pair than you and Mia.” I watched his jaw clench, a thrill of fear and satisfaction running through me. I added, a little shakily, “At least, that’s what the audience thinks.” Mia nodded enthusiastically beside me. The director looked like he wanted to crawl under his desk. A bitter, humorless smile twisted Matt’s lips. He nodded slowly. “Phoebe,” he breathed, “you’ve got some nerve.” The director raised a timid hand. “So, uh, Matt… about the script?” Matt leaned against the desk, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. After a long moment, he sighed. “Change it. Do what she wants.” Mia reacted instantly. She grabbed my arm, pulled me into a perfect ninety-degree bow, and then hustled us out of the room before he could change his mind. That night, the director sent over the new script. Along with it came a contact recommendation for Matt’s number. Phoebe, Matt said you blocked him. Could you… maybe add him back? His profile picture was a solid black icon with a tiny mute symbol I’d doodled on it ages ago. I used to tease him that it was perfect for him, a man of few words. Now, ironically, I was the one who couldn’t find the words to say what I felt. I sent the friend request. He accepted it a second later, as if he’d been waiting. I clutched my phone, my eyes glued to the screen. One second, two… One minute, two… Half an hour passed. Nothing. A sigh escaped my lips, a bitter mix of disappointment and self-recrimination welling up in my chest. I was the one who’d ended things. I was the one who’d run away. What right did I have to feel sorry for myself now? You’re being pathetic, I told myself. But tears betrayed me, streaming down my face as if to mock my own hypocrisy. After lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling for a while, I picked up my phone again and, on autopilot, opened Matt’s social media feed. He rarely posted, so I wasn’t expecting anything. But there it was. A new post, right at the top. A screenshot of tomorrow’s weather forecast, showing a blistering heatwave. The caption read: Don’t forget sunscreen. It hit me then. Back when we were together, Matt had always been the one to check the weather for me. It had become a habit, one I’d completely forgotten. Habits are terrifying things. With a heavy heart, I moved the weather app back to my phone’s home screen. The next day’s activity was a camping trip and a cookout. The other contestants were groaning about the heat. “Which idiot scheduled a camping trip in this heat?” an influencer muttered beside me. “Seriously,” Mia chimed in. “We won’t even need a lighter. We could probably just spontaneously combust.” I was doing okay, thanks to the warning. I wasn’t feeling the heat as badly as the others. Up ahead, Matt, who had been leading the group, glanced back. His eyes swept over me, from my sun hat down to my long sleeves. A small, satisfied smile touched his lips when he saw I was fully prepared. I felt a flush of awkwardness and instinctively ducked behind the person next to me. Only after I’d hidden did I realize my mistake. The influencer gave me a knowing look, then glanced between me, Mia, and his own on-screen partner. “Did we switch partners again without telling me?” he asked, confused. Before I could form a reply, a hard, muscular arm wedged between us, creating a solid barrier. “We didn’t switch,” Matt said, his voice cold and final. “Go find your own partner,” he told the influencer, but his eyes were locked on me. I’d grown somewhat accustomed to his constant staring over the past couple of days. The initial heart-pounding panic had faded into a defiant boldness. I met his gaze. “I need to find my partner, too.” A slow smile spread across Matt’s face. “Go ahead.” But he didn’t move. He stood there, blocking my path. Mia and the others were getting further ahead. Panicked, I jabbed him with my elbow. “Would you move?” He took the hit without flinching. “Your partner is right here. Who are you looking for?” I froze. “What?” He stepped aside, gesturing to the side of the path. A camera was set up there, pointed directly at us. Matt’s features were sharp, but his fair complexion softened his intensity. Backlit by the sun, every strand of his hair seemed to glow, giving him a warm, youthful aura. It was only then I realized he’d been walking just ahead of me the whole time, his body blocking the worst of the sun. My heart began to hammer against my ribs. The feelings I thought I’d suffocated were clawing their way back to the surface. Matt leaned down, his fingers gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. A devastatingly charming smile played on his lips. “You know what sells even better than a girl stirring up trouble?” he murmured, his voice a low, hypnotic hum. I shook my head, mesmerized. He let out a soft chuckle. “The male pot-stirrer.” I was stunned. What was happening? I thought the script was changed so that Mia and I… And then it hit me. Originally, Matt and Mia were the couple, and I was the villain. But now that Mia and I were the couple, the villain role had fallen to… I looked at him in disbelief. He just winked at me. The director, seeing the perfect chemistry unfolding, gestured for two more cameras to surround us. I was trapped in a 360-degree prison of lenses. I took a deep breath, shoving down my shock, and managed a shy, bashful smile for the cameras. Now that’s professionalism, I thought, giving myself a mental high-five. My pride lasted about three seconds before I was completely outmatched. With a subtle flick of his fingers, Matt hooked the small bag I was carrying out of my hand. As he took it, his thumb brushed deliberately across my palm. A jolt shot through me. I instinctively tried to pull away, but his other hand shot out and steadied me. “Careful,” he whispered. His voice was soft, but his touch was electric. Every inch of skin he’d touched was burning. I lowered my voice. “An A-list actor like you, stooping to play the villain?” He leaned in, his voice just as low. “We dumpees have to be this desperate, you know.” “…” I glanced at the cameras. From the slight smirk on the cameraman’s face, I knew our entire exchange had been captured. But I wasn’t too worried. From the way the director deferred to him, it was clear Matt was the one calling the shots on this show. He’d never let a clip air that showed a superstar like him getting dumped by a nobody. It would be humiliating. I told myself it was only for a few more days and decided to just roll with it. Thankfully, a few other contestants swarmed Matt for some screen time, giving me a moment to breathe. When we reached the campsite, my official partner, Mia, started on the food while I tackled the tent. We kept up the act, exchanging flirtatious looks and “accidental” touches. Working with a beautiful woman was always a pleasure, and I was grinning like an idiot, fully committed to selling our on-screen romance. I was about to lean in for another “candid” moment when the collar of my shirt was yanked, and I was pulled backward. “Phoebe!” Mia cried out, but when she saw who was behind me, her expression shifted to one of subtle amusement. I stumbled into a solid chest, enveloped by a cool, clean scent that felt all too familiar. A soft chuckle vibrated against my ear. “So clumsy,” that familiar voice teased. “…” I said, deadpan. “I wonder whose fault that is.” He accepted the blame without missing a beat. “Mine.” I couldn’t help it. A laugh escaped me, a real, genuine laugh that seemed to wash away all the tension and gloom of the past few days. Matt took the small hammer from my hand and started assembling the tent. He wasn’t just handsome; he was also incredibly skilled. The pile of poles and fabric that had been a confusing mess to me came together like magic in his hands. Within minutes, the tent was halfway done. Other contestants gathered around, drawn by the spectacle. “Wow, Matt, you’re a natural at this!” “I knew you could cook, but you can build a tent, too? Is there anything you can’t do?” “Hey, superstar, help us out next, will ya?” “Get in line! He’s only showing off to impress a certain someone, hahaha!” The group’s playful chatter filled the air, creating a lively, fun atmosphere. Amid the noise, a strange feeling washed over me, and I found myself looking at Matt, the center of attention. His eyes were already on me. Through all the laughter and chatter, his gaze was a steady, burning intensity. It was a look so focused, so unwavering, it felt like he was trying to etch my image into his memory, to brand it onto his soul. So he would never forget. The tent was finished in no time. Matt casually walked over, pulled up a folding chair, and sat down beside me. The other groups were still struggling, making our corner of the campsite feel like a peaceful oasis. “Here you go, babe. Open up.” Mia held out a piece of freshly grilled meat, blowing on it gently before holding it to my lips. “Delicious!” I gave her a thumbs-up. A couple of the other female contestants wandered over to chat. We were in the middle of some juicy gossip when a long, elegant hand appeared in front of me, holding a piece of crisp lettuce. “Here you go, babe. Open up.” I stared in shock at Matt. The others erupted in whistles and cheers. Matt, however, looked genuinely confused. “What? That’s what Mia just called you.” Before I could argue, he pressed on. “She can, but I can’t?” Gasps and whoops echoed around us. My own heart was doing a frantic dance in my chest. No wonder they say you only hate a pot-stirrer when they’re not stirring the pot for you. Experiencing it firsthand was a whole different story. Another group finished their tent just in time to hear his question. Ryan, an actor known for his roles in teen dramas, yelled out, “Matt, a man can never say he can’t do something!” Everyone burst out laughing. To my surprise, Matt played along. “You’re right. I guess I have to, then.” Mia, my official partner, wasn’t about to be outdone. She wrapped her arm around mine and leaned against me possessively. She pointed at Ryan. “Hey! Only I get to call her ‘babe.’ Right, babe?” Caught in the middle, I laughed and nodded, feeling the weight of a dozen pairs of eyes on me, like a row of spotlights. The director, sensing the peak in atmosphere, called for a cut and announced the start of the game. This show was built on drama. Each team was a trio: an on-screen couple and a designated villain. Our team was the exception. We had a male villain. And he was still fixated on whether he could call me ‘babe’ as the director explained the rules. “The four teams will be split into two larger groups. You’ll take turns throwing darts. No one can throw for you. If one person misses the target, the entire team has to start over. The first group where every member hits the target wins a gourmet meal prepared by the crew and a luxury prize.” The target wasn’t far, and under normal circumstances, hitting it would be easy. But after a long, hot morning, everyone was exhausted, which made the challenge significantly harder. “Dude, Matt, are you even human?” After hitting his sixth bullseye in a row, Matt had successfully earned the awe and envy of everyone present. Following his lead, Mia and I, having conserved our energy thanks to Matt’s tent-building, were hitting the target five times out of six. The other team in our group, however, was struggling, barely hitting it at all. Though our two teams had vastly different high points, our low points were surprisingly similar. After the other team failed yet again, Mia grabbed a selfie stick and playfully chased after them. “That’s it, I’m coming for you! I’m starving!” They ran, laughing and dodging, turning the scene into a ridiculous, chaotic chase. I was watching, thoroughly amused, when a weight settled on my shoulder. The cool, familiar scent filled my senses as Matt rested his head on my shoulder, his soft hair tickling my cheek. I squirmed, trying to turn away from the ticklish sensation. The next second, a hand with long, elegant fingers gently cupped my chin, turning my face back to his. The distance between us was dangerously small. Another inch, another breath, and our lips, separated for so long, would be pressed together just like they used to be. Muscle memory is a terrifying thing. My mind went blank, a roar filling my ears as blood rushed to my limbs, paralyzing me. I risked a glance to the side. Mia and the others were still fooling around, oblivious to what was happening here. “Look at me, okay?” Matt’s eyes were hazy, his thumb tracing the curve of my bottom lip. His voice was a low, husky whisper. “Just look at me. Please?” That was something I couldn’t do. My body, frozen for what felt like an eternity, suddenly lurched back to life. Just as his lips were about to touch mine, I shoved him away. Matt, caught off guard by my sudden rejection in the middle of such a charged moment, stumbled back, a look of pure shock on his face.

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