It was for Julie’s birthday. I was hiding in the supply closet of her office, a surprise cake balanced on my knees, waiting to jump out. Then I heard his voice, thin and fragile, just outside the door. Nolan. Her childhood friend, the one who was always sick. “So you’re really with him? With Leo?” he asked, his voice laced with a tremor of disbelief. Julie’s reply was a shard of ice. “It’s just an act, Nolan.” A pause. Then she delivered the killing blow. “He has to be. He’s Rh-negative, just like you.” I finally remembered. She’d asked me out right after the company health screening, the one where they’d tested our blood. 1 “So… you’re only with him for my sake?” Nolan’s voice cracked, full of a dawning, vulnerable hope. “Of course,” Julie said softly. The rustle of expensive fabric filled the silence. Through the thin slat of the closet door, I saw them embrace. A flush of color crept into Nolan’s pale, almost translucent face. At the same time, the warmth in my own chest turned cold, then froze solid. I looked down at the cake in my hands. The cheerful red heart piped onto the frosting seemed to mock me, a bloody, sarcastic smear. “Okay,” Julie murmured, pulling away. “I should get you back.” “Are you worried Leo will see me here?” Nolan asked, a hint of a pout in his tone. Julie hesitated for a fraction of a second. “No. Your condition just stabilized. You can’t be away from the hospital for too long.” “Alright,” he relented, though his eyes lingered on her, full of a possessive longing. He opened the door and left. Julie followed a moment later. The office plunged back into a dead, suffocating silence. My limbs felt like lead as I pushed the closet door open and stumbled back to my own desk in the open-plan area. My colleague, Sarah, noticed the cake. “Hey, you never gave it to the boss?” I couldn’t meet her eyes. “She wasn’t in.” A knot of acid twisted in my gut, so sharp it made me double over. I collapsed into my chair, resting my forehead on the cool surface of the desk, waiting for the wave of pain to recede. When it finally did, I wiped a sheen of cold sweat from my brow and opened a new document. I started typing my resignation letter. I’d only gotten a few words down when she returned. Her eyes landed on the cake instantly. They lit up, a brilliant, false warmth I now saw for what it was. “Is that for me?” she asked, her voice bright and eager. Sarah, ever helpful, chimed in before I could speak. “It is, Ms. Vance! Leo was going to surprise you in your office…” Panic flickered across Julie’s face, a tiny, almost imperceptible crack in her perfect mask. “Leo? You were in my office?” I shot Sarah a look, silencing her before she could say more. “Yeah,” I said, my voice flat. “But you were out.” She visibly relaxed, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “Right. I was just seeing a client out.” A client. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I might have even believed her. A bitter smile formed on my lips. She was so good at this. It clearly wasn’t her first time lying. It all made sense now. Miracles don’t just happen. A woman like Julie Vance—wealthy, beautiful, the heir to the Vance Corporation—would never fall for a nobody like me. Not for who I was, anyway. Ignoring my silence, she reached for the cake. “Thank you, honey. I’m starving.” I snatched it away before her fingers could touch it, stood up, and dumped the whole thing into the trash can by my desk. “It’s spoiled,” I said. “Can’t be eaten.” She stared, bewildered. “But it looked perfectly fine.” “Some things look fine on the outside,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet, “but they’re completely rotten to the core.” That’s when she finally realized something was wrong. She leaned in closer, her brow furrowed in a flawless imitation of concern. “Leo, what’s going on today? Is something on your mind?” Her gaze dropped to my computer screen. Her voice shot up, sharp with alarm. “Why are you writing a resignation letter?” “I’m not feeling well. I don’t want to work here anymore.” My pale face and the lingering sweat on my brow were perfect evidence. Her concern sharpened, becoming urgent. “What? What’s wrong? Why are you suddenly unwell?” The worry in her eyes was so convincing it almost made me doubt what I’d heard. This was the Julie I thought I knew. The woman who would panic more than I did anytime I got so much as a paper cut. The woman whose gentleness had made me fall for her. But now I knew. She wasn’t worried about me. She was worried about her walking, talking blood bank. A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “It’s nothing. I’ve just always been a bit fragile.” Julie’s brow tightened. “If it’s not serious, then don’t talk about resigning. I won’t approve it.” “I’ve already decided. You’re my boss, not my owner. You can’t legally force me to stay.” “You…” She was getting angry now. “I’m your girlfriend, for God’s sake! Can’t you at least discuss major life decisions with me?” I looked at her, my eyes cold. “Then let’s fix that. We’re through. As of now, we are nothing to each other.” “Why?” she demanded, her voice cracking with disbelief. “What did I do wrong?” Heads were starting to turn in the office. The curious gazes of our colleagues felt like physical pressure. Julie took a deep, steadying breath and grabbed my hand. “Let’s talk about this outside.” “I have nothing to say to you.” I tried to pull my hand away, but her grip was like steel. “Then at least give me a reason!” Her eyes were red-rimmed, glistening with tears. She looked for all the world like a woman who couldn’t bear to lose me. But I knew better. She couldn’t bear to lose my blood. I laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “The reason is you—” My sentence was cut short by the sharp ring of her phone. She glanced at the screen, and her grip on my hand loosened as she stepped away to answer it. I couldn’t hear what the person on the other end was saying, but I saw the color drain from her face. “…Okay, okay, I’m on my way,” she said, her voice tight with panic. She ended the call and lunged for me, grabbing my arm. “Leo, you have to come with me. Now.” Her face was a mask of sheer terror. Her nails dug into my bicep, sharp and painful. “What are you doing? Let go of me!” She ignored me, dragging me toward the elevator. The icy wind that hit us as we exited the building lobby carried a terrible premonition. I dug my heels in, yanking my arm from her grasp. “Let go! What the hell is going on?” Julie grabbed me again. “Get in the car. I’ll explain on the way.” I shook my head, resolute. “Not until you tell me what this is about.” She wasn’t listening. She was all brute force now, half-pulling, half-shoving me toward a black Range Rover idling at the curb. “Leo, now is not the time to be stubborn!” With a final, desperate shove, she pushed me into the back seat. She slid in after me and barked at the driver, “Go!” The car lurched forward into traffic. Panic clawed at my throat. “Where are you taking me?” She finally looked at me, her eyes stripped of all pretense. “It’s Nolan,” she said, her voice flat and cold. “He was in a car accident. He’s losing a lot of blood. You have the same blood type as him…” Her words hung in the air, and in that instant, I knew. I knew exactly what she intended to do. Nolan. Rh-negative. He already had a blood disorder, and now a car crash on top of it. He was in desperate need of a transfusion. On any other day, I might have done it. But today? After what I’d heard? This blood was the one thing she wanted from me. And I would rather die than give it to her. “Julie, you’ve gone too far!” I yelled, my voice raw. “Blood donation has to be voluntary! This is kidnapping! It’s assault!” I had never raised my voice to her before. My violent reaction seemed to startle her; a flicker of conflict crossed her face. Then, her phone rang again. She put it on speaker. Nolan’s voice, faint and reedy, filled the car. “Julie… where are you? I don’t think… I’m going to make it…” The last shred of hesitation in Julie’s eyes vanished. “Nolan, just hold on. I’m almost there. I have Leo with me. He has your blood type. He can save you.” “Really?” Nolan whispered. “Is… is he willing?” “I’M NOT!” I roared, lunging for the phone. Julie snatched it away, her eyes boring into me with a chilling coldness that terrified me. “It doesn’t matter if he’s willing or not.” I snapped. I swung my hand and slapped her, hard, across the face. “His life matters, but mine doesn’t? Is that it?” She clutched her cheek, her eyes blazing with fury. “It’s just a little blood, Leo! It’s not going to kill you. Can you stop being so selfish for one second?” “You’re insane! There are sick people all over the world! Why don’t you donate all your money and your own goddamn organs if you’re so generous?” “You can’t talk to her like that,” Nolan’s weak voice piped up from the phone. “Julie’s just trying to help me. I know this is an inconvenience for you… I’ll have her compensate you. Just name your price.” The implication was clear: I was just a low-life shaking them down for money. The audacity of it, the sheer, slimy condescension, was breathtaking. “You son of a bitch!” I screamed. “Using her to play the big shot with someone else’s life! You’re both disgusting.” “Leo!” Julie was truly furious now. Fearing what else I might say, she quickly soothed Nolan and hung up the phone. I glared at her, my whole body trembling with rage. “This was always the plan, wasn’t it? Keep me around as his personal blood bag? Well, you can forget it. In your dreams!” She shot me a final, dismissive glance. “You don’t have a choice in the matter. But don’t worry,” she added, as if it were a kindness. “I’ll hire a private nutritionist for you. We’ll make sure your levels stay up.” 2 The car screeched to a halt in front of the Vance Family Private Hospital. The doors were pulled open before I could even react. Men in white coats—orderlies, not doctors—pinned me down and dragged me into the sterile, cold building. Julie was right. It wasn’t up to me. No one listened to my shouts for help. They forced me onto a gurney in a small, stark room. I watched in helpless fury as they roughly shoved my sleeve up and swabbed my arm. Then, the needle. I watched my own life, dark red, draining away through a plastic tube. A dull, aching numbness spread through my arm. An exhaustion so profound it felt like it was dissolving my bones began to creep through me. Through it all, Julie stood by the glass partition, her eyes fixed on the room next door where Nolan lay. She didn’t even blink. My fingertips went numb. The world began to tilt, black spots dancing in my vision. My voice was a dry, rasping whisper. “Julie… I’m in pain. Please… make them stop.” Her gaze finally shifted to me, empty of emotion. “Just hold on a little longer, Leo. It’ll be over soon.” I tried to speak again, but no sound came out. The black spots consumed everything, and I fell into darkness. 3 I don’t know how much time passed. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. The room was empty. Sunlight streamed through the window, but it felt cold. I tried to move, but it felt like every ounce of strength had been siphoned out of me. My throat was sandpaper. “Nurse…” I croaked. “Water…” Only silence answered. Licking my cracked lips, I fought against a wave of dizziness and slowly, painstakingly, swung my legs over the side of the bed. My room was at the very end of a long, quiet corridor. Faint voices drifted from the other end of the hall, near the nurses’ station. I used the wall for support and shuffled toward the sound. It was coming from inside another room. Nolan’s room. The door was ajar. Through the gap, I could see a crowd: doctors, nurses, and Julie, all gathered around his bed. “The wound is healing exceptionally well, Mr. Hayes,” a doctor was saying cheerfully. “You’re a lucky man. Once you’ve fully recovered, we can proceed with the bone marrow transplant.” “Thank you, Doctor. It’s all thanks to you. And Julie… you’ve done so much for me,” Nolan said, his voice much stronger now. Julie smiled, a warm, genuine smile I hadn’t seen directed at me in a long time. “Of course. As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.” “How’s Leo, by the way?” Nolan asked. “Oh, he’s strong. He’ll bounce back with a few good meals,” Julie said with an airy wave of her hand. “I mean, he’s not mad at me, is he? You only did all this because of me.” Julie paused. “It doesn’t matter if he is. Saving a life is the most noble thing a person can do. He’ll understand that one day.” No, I won’t, I screamed in my head. I’m not a saint. I’m not some benevolent martyr. I just want to live. And for anyone who threatens my life, revenge is the only language I speak. I closed my eyes, forcing down the inferno of rage building inside me. While they were all preoccupied, I slipped away. I crept past the nurses’ station, down the elevator, and out the front doors of the hospital. My first stop was the police station.

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My fiancée photoshopped my head out of our engagement photos and replaced it with her first love. Then she posted it for all the world to see, with the caption: “A decade of waiting, finally answered today.” When I angrily confronted her, she was completely nonchalant. “What’s the big deal? It’s obviously photoshopped. Can’t friends have a little fun? It’s normal.” The result? On our wedding day, every single one of Ava’s friends and family thought her first love was the groom. When I pulled Ava aside, begging her to acknowledge me as her fiancé, she pretended not to know me and wrapped her arm around the other man’s. Treated like some crazed wedding crasher, I was beaten until my ribs broke and rushed to the hospital. Lying in that hospital bed, my heart finally gave out. I dialed the number of the mother I hadn’t spoken to in three years. “Mom,” I said, my voice hollow. “I’ll do it. I’ll agree to the arranged marriage.” 1 During my hospital stay, my fiancée, Ava, didn’t call once. Instead, her first love, Justin, posted a picture to his social media. Curvy and stacked. Someone’s getting lucky tonight. The accompanying photo was of Ava, dressed in lace lingerie, leaning over to shave Justin’s face. The angle was deliberately provocative. The whole image was suggestive, designed to make your mind wander. The old me would have seen that photo and immediately called her, demanding to know why they couldn’t respect boundaries, asking if she even remembered she had a fiancé, begging to know if she still loved me… But now? Staring at the picture, I felt nothing. I even managed to tap the ‘like’ button. A second later, my phone rang. It was Ava. She launched into her explanation. “Honey, don’t misunderstand. Justin’s hand got hurt at the wedding, I was just helping him shave, that’s all.” Hurt at the wedding? A cold laugh escaped my lips. Because Ava had replaced my face with Justin’s on our wedding photos, all the guests had assumed Justin was the groom. When I, the actual groom, had tried to get Ava to clarify things, to prove my identity, she’d announced to everyone, “The groom is Justin. This guy is just some pathetic dog who follows me around.” That’s when her friends and family had surrounded me, beating me to a bloody pulp. And Justin’s “injury”? He’d tried to snatch the boutonnière from my chest and pricked his finger on the pin. The difference between who she loved and who she didn’t was painfully, brutally clear. I was lying in a hospital bed, unable to move, while Justin was apparently incapacitated by a pinprick. A sharp, final pang of pain shot through my heart. In that instant, any remaining feeling I had for her vanished completely. “Mm,” I said into the phone. “I’m not misunderstanding.” “If that’s all, I’m hanging up.” But Ava, as if terrified I wouldn’t believe her, kept talking. “At the wedding, I just didn’t want Justin to feel embarrassed when everyone mistook him for the groom. That’s why I didn’t clear things up for you. Don’t be upset about it, okay? We can just have another wedding.” I listened silently. She was afraid of embarrassing Justin. What about me? “I don’t care,” I said, my voice flat. “You don’t need to explain.” Perhaps my lack of emotion, my failure to immediately forgive her as I always did, set her off. Her tone, previously apologetic, sharpened. “Ethan, I’ve already explained it to you. What is this attitude?” “Are you giving me the silent treatment?” I said nothing. My attitude? For all the years we’d been together, no matter what mistake she made, no matter how many of my boundaries she crossed, all she had to do was cry a little, act soft, and offer some flimsy excuse. I would instantly crumble, pulling her into my arms and comforting her. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it was my fault too. Please don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry.” And now, after this, she still expected me to forgive her. A profound exhaustion washed over me. Every bone in my body ached as if it were broken. Her insistent questioning continued on the other end of the line. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was about to hang up when she added one more thing. “Oh, and check yourself out of the hospital tonight. You’re a grown man, what’s a little injury? Don’t be so dramatic.” “On your way home, pick up some ribs from that famous barbecue place across town. I’m craving them.” The barbecue place was in the north. Our home was in the south. A ninety-minute round trip. She really did see me as nothing more than an errand boy. 2 I checked myself out of the hospital. The cast was still on my arm, a dull ache throbbing beneath it. I had to take a cab home. My injured hand meant the fingerprint scanner wouldn’t work, and I kept fumbling the password. Figuring Ava was home, I knocked. The person who opened the door was her first love, Justin. He welcomed me in with a broad, warm smile. “Ethan, you’re back! Ava’s in the shower.” He gestured to his hand. “Oh, man, it’s my fault. You know, my finger is injured, and Ava was worried I wouldn’t be able to use the fingerprint lock, so she changed the password.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s the anniversary of the day Ava and I first got together. I bet you didn’t know that. I’ll text it to you in a bit.” An anniversary? Ava couldn’t even remember my birthday, but she remembered the anniversary of her relationship with her first love. I looked at Justin. He was wearing the matching set of couple’s pajamas that belonged to Ava and me. His hair was damp, his face cleanly shaven, and he was holding a hairdryer. Justin noticed my gaze. “Ava asked me to dry her hair for her. You have no idea, back when we were together, she used to insist on it. Couldn’t miss a single night.” He held up his hands placatingly. “Don’t get the wrong idea, we’re just friends now.” “If you’re not happy about it, here, you can do it.” Justin shoved the hairdryer into my injured hand. Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Ava emerged, wearing the same style of pajamas as Justin. She was toweling her hair dry. “Justin,” she said, “aren’t you going to dry my hair? Why aren’t you coming in?” Then, she saw me. Her face, flushed pink from the steam, instantly went pale. She rushed over to explain. “I was just tired, so I asked Justin to help me with my hair. Don’t misunderstand.” Honestly, there was nothing left to misunderstand. His hand was too injured to shave. Her arms were too tired to dry her own hair. Useless on their own, but a hundred percent willing to do it for each other. I handed the hairdryer back to Justin and walked toward the bedroom. Ava grabbed me, her voice sharp with panic. “Ethan, what is your problem? You wouldn’t talk on the phone, and now you’re acting like this in person.” “Don’t push your luck!” Her grip on my wrist was crushing, completely disregarding my fresh injury. “And where are the ribs? Didn’t I tell you to get ribs?” “Why don’t you ever listen to me? Go out and buy them now!” The pain was sharp, and my patience finally snapped. “I’m not buying them!” I shook her hand off and continued into the bedroom. The sight that greeted me was a floor littered with clothes—a jacket, underwear—and on the bed, a pair of torn stockings and boxer shorts. And there, hanging from the frame of our wedding portrait, was a single, snapped black bra strap. 3 Ava scrambled in front of me, shutting the door. “I was just changing in here. It’s a bit of a mess.” “Go buy the ribs, and I’ll have the room cleaned up by the time you get back.” I gave her one last look, then turned and went into the guest room. The walls were thin. I could hear everything from the living room. “Ava, don’t be angry. I don’t have to have the ribs. Ethan’s in a bad mood, you shouldn’t make things harder for him.” “If you’re hungry, how about I cook for you?” “Oh, Justin, you’re just so generous and forgiving. Not like him. I tell him something a hundred times, and he still insists on defying me.” “Okay, okay. Let me dry your hair first. I’d be heartbroken if you caught a cold.” The whirring of the hairdryer started up. It was the perfect cover. I dialed the number of the mother I hadn’t spoken to in three years. “Mom,” I said, “about that arranged marriage you mentioned. I’ll do it.” My mother’s voice was filled with joy. “Oh, son, you’ve finally come to your senses! Your father and I are getting old, and you’re our only child. You have no idea… for that woman, you gave up your inheritance, everything. These past five years, your father’s hair has turned white with worry.” “We heard about what happened at the wedding. A woman like that is not worthy of you. She’s flighty and unfaithful, she doesn’t deserve you.” “But since you’ve agreed… how does the eighth of next month sound for the wedding?” My mother’s voice was now tinged with the frailness of age. My eyes welled up. I had been so foolish. I had thought love was everything. When my parents disapproved of Ava, I had run away with her without a second thought, cutting off all contact for five years. But all I ever had to do was turn around, and they were still there, waiting for me. “Okay,” I said, my voice thick. “I’ll wrap things up here and come home. You two can help me with the wedding preparations.” “Wedding? What wedding?” The guest room door opened without warning. I coolly hung up the phone and looked at Ava. She was holding a takeout container, which she placed on the nightstand. “What were you saying about a wedding?” “Didn’t I tell you we’d have to postpone it? Are you that desperate to get married? Afraid of ending up an old bachelor?” Seeing the anxiety on her face, I answered calmly, “I was just explaining the situation to a friend.” Ava visibly relaxed. She opened the takeout box, revealing the ribs inside. “You didn’t buy them, but Justin did.” “He was afraid you’d be upset, so he bought you a whole rack. Ethan, let’s just drop this, okay? Don’t be so unforgiving.” I covered my mouth and nose, turning my head away. Annoyance flashed in Ava’s eyes. “What is that reaction? Justin was kind enough to apologize, and you’re acting disgusted?” “Are you just going to waste his kindness? Ethan, don’t take this too far!” I took it too far? “You know I have a physical aversion to barbecue, don’t you?” 4 Back when Ava and I first ran away together, we had less than two thousand dollars to our names. To help me adjust to a normal life, Ava got me a job at a popular barbecue joint. At the time, she’d said, “Ethan, I love barbecue. If you work here, does that mean I’ll get to eat it all the time?” For that one sentence, I spent my days plucking feathers and cleaning hundreds of chickens, my body permanently steeped in the cloying, greasy smell. Over time, I developed a visceral disgust for it. Even the cooked meat made me sick. Back then, Ava would ignore the smell, throwing her arms around me the moment I got home. “Ethan, I don’t like barbecue anymore. Please, quit that job. I can’t stand to see you working so hard every day.” So, what is love? I told her to take the food away. Ava opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, all she could manage was: “I’m sorry, Ethan. I forgot.” She didn’t forget. She just didn’t love me anymore. In the past, when I came home from work, she would have my clothes washed and would scrub the whole apartment with disinfectant, just so I wouldn’t have to smell a hint of that greasy smoke. She once stood in hundred-degree heat wearing a stuffy mascot costume, handing out flyers just to buy me a birthday cake. She had accepted the simple ring I wove for her from blades of grass, tears streaming down her face as she said yes to my proposal, promising to be my wife. But you can’t chase the past. I took a deep breath, but the smell of the barbecue still drifted into my nose. I couldn’t stop myself from gagging. Ava quickly tied up the bag. “What do you want to eat, then? I’ll make you something.” I was about to say I didn’t need anything. A knock came at the door. “Ava, I spilled the container! I burned my hand! Can you take me to the hospital?” Hearing Justin’s voice, Ava immediately rushed to the door, her face etched with concern. “How could you be so careless? It’s all red! Your hands are so precious, we can’t let them get scarred.” Before she left, she remembered to toss a line over her shoulder to me. “Ethan, I’m taking Justin to the hospital. He’s a pianist. His hands can’t have anything happen to them.” The door slammed shut, leaving me in the silent room with the takeout container on the nightstand. After a moment, I picked it up and walked out to throw it away. Just as I reached the hall, I saw them by the elevator. Ava was holding Justin’s hand, blowing gently on the small red patch of skin. The elevator dinged. They stepped inside. A single door closed, separating two worlds. And sealing the end of our future together.

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1 After luring me abroad, Randall O’Neill held a lavish engagement party with his first love back home. I saw it on a stranger’s phone—him, taking her hand, slipping my wedding ring onto her finger. The guests were buzzing with surprise. “So she’s the one Mr. O’Neill truly loves!” Randall just smiled, a silent confirmation. Then, he announced he would offer the legendary stallion, Obsidian, as a betrothal gift to his new fiancée. Seeing this, a calm smile touched my lips. My heart, weary and heavy, simply teleported back across the ocean. What Randall didn’t know was that I came from a thousand years in the past, here only to repay a debt to his family. And Obsidian, the legendary stallion? He was my companion, my steed. I had given him to Randall as a gift on the day we registered our marriage. Now, watching their fingers intertwine, a profound exhaustion washed over me. A promise that spanned a millennium, shattered in a single moment. It was time for Obsidian and me to go home. … Randall probably never imagined I could teleport, faster than any airplane he could charter. By the time I returned, his proposal to Isabelle had been a resounding success. Photos of their blissful moment still scrolled across the grand screens of the hotel ballroom. I was sitting in the office of the Keeper of the Veil, the guardian of time travel, watching it all unfold. The Keeper, Silas, was trembling. “My lady,” he stammered, “are you sure? Perhaps Mr. O’Neill has a reason for all this… a difficult situation…” I pointed a slender finger at the giant screen outside the window, at the intimate photos of the happy couple. “Are you suggesting I’m blind, Silas?” He shook his head frantically, trying to placate me. “But Mr. O’Neill gave explicit orders to have everything restored to normal before your return! He still cares for you, my lady, he does—” I raised a hand, cutting him off. My voice was sharp as ice. “A mere Keeper,” I said, “after a few days as Randall O’Neill’s assistant, have you forgotten your place and your duty?” In truth, I knew exactly what Randall was doing. Isabelle was his childhood sweetheart, a dream from his youth. Now that she was back, they had a silent understanding. This was their chance to give their “missed connection” a perfect, storybook ending. This engagement party was their gift to themselves. He had coaxed me into taking a trip abroad precisely to keep me in the dark while he and Isabelle carried on with their sordid affair. He wanted to give her a love that was bold and public, while I remained his secret, hidden wife. But I saw it. And I would not tolerate impurities in my love. If Randall chose her, then he could have nothing to do with me. Silas, shaking, processed the paperwork and stamped my release. “The full reversal process will take seven days,” he informed me. I slammed my palm on the desk, shattering it into splinters. “Seven days is too long. You have three.” I turned and left without another word. Behind me, I heard Silas stamping his feet in frustration. “Oh, Mr. O’Neill, what have you done? You foolish, foolish man! It’s over now. You can live with your regret.” Once outside, I teleported to a high vantage point, a spot with a perfect view of the hotel where they were celebrating. The guests had all departed. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the presidential suite, I saw Randall and Isabelle, their gazes tangled, electric. They were wrapped around each other. After several glasses of champagne, Isabelle had gone limp in his arms. I saw a flicker of conflict in Randall’s eyes, but it passed. His hands slid around her slender waist, and he carried her upstairs. Even though I knew it was over, I picked up my phone and called him. “Randall,” I said, my voice light, “where are you? Do you miss me?” His voice was thick with guilt, trembling slightly. “Cathy! Of course I’m at home. I miss you so much. I wish I could fly to my beautiful wife’s side right this second.” A cold smile touched my lips. Oh, really? Then let me grant your wish. “Then come pick me up. I’m at the airport.” Randall shot to his feet, glancing at Isabelle, who was now stirring on the bed. His brow furrowed. “Cathy, isn’t your flight supposed to land tomorrow night? Why don’t you head home first? I have to leave right now, the office just called an emergency meeting.” “Alright,” I said, and hung up. A chill seeped into my very bones. I had given him a chance. He chose Isabelle. The moment he hung up, Randall frantically ordered his subordinates to take down all the public screens and begin damage control. On the bed, Isabelle let out a soft moan. Randall turned, a fond look on his face as he gently pulled the covers over her. She had been faking it, of course. Seeing her chance, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Without a moment’s hesitation, Randall loosened his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, and their bodies became a mess of tangled limbs. Watching them, I couldn’t say I wasn’t hurt, but a greater sense of release washed over me. After centuries of wandering, my heart longed for my family from a thousand years ago. Now, finally, I could go home. The sight of their carnal embrace disgusted me. I had no interest in watching the rest. I turned and went back to the house Randall and I had shared. As I was packing the few things I had left there, a picture message arrived on my phone. It was from Isabelle. It showed her and Randall, locked in a passionate kiss, her body covered in love bites. Along with the photo came a single, taunting sentence. “Cathy, has he ever been this wild with you? Two boxes of condoms are already empty.” A sharp pain lanced through my heart, but I was never one to take an insult lying down. I sent back a photo of my own. “I don’t know about Randall, but I’ve certainly seen the pictures of you getting wild with that muscle-bound trainer in Europe.” Message sent. I could just imagine Isabelle, sleepless and frantic all night. It was wonderful. I slept like a baby. 2 The next day, after clearing out my room, I went to the stables to retrieve Obsidian. Obsidian was more than a horse I had brought from the past; he was family. He had once saved Randall’s life when he’d nearly been thrown from another horse. Randall had always doted on him, even building him a private, state-of-the-art stable. But I was sorry. I could part with everything else, but not Obsidian. I was taking him back to our time. Our family was waiting. The moment I teleported to the stables, I heard his cry of pain. I rushed inside, and the sight that greeted me made my blood boil with rage. Obsidian was chained, and Isabelle—holding a barbed whip she’d gotten from who-knows-where—was lashing him relentlessly. Her eyes were filled with a vicious cruelty. Every strike was meant to maim. “You ugly beast! You think you’re worthy of being my wedding gift? One day, I’ll throw you and that bitch of a master out of here!” she shrieked. “That pathetic bitch dared to threaten me with a photo? I’ve already had all the evidence destroyed. Let’s see how she threatens me now!” Obsidian screamed in agony, his glossy black coat split open, blood pouring from the wounds and pooling on the pristine grass in a shocking, crimson puddle. The scene drove me to the brink of madness. I flashed over to Isabelle, grabbed her, and delivered a series of sharp, stinging slaps. She shrieked in terror, her viciousness vanishing the moment she saw my face. She immediately began to beg. “Cathy! What are you doing here?! No, I’m sorry, please, don’t hit me!” I sneered and raised the whip, ready to bring it down on her. But it never landed. Randall caught it mid-air. The second Isabelle saw her protector, she burst into theatrical, tear-streaked sobs. “Randall, save me! Cathy’s gone crazy! She’s trying to kill me with this whip!” Randall, who I hadn’t seen in days, didn’t even spare me a glance. He rushed to Isabelle’s side, comforting her. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here now. She won’t dare to touch you.” Finally, he looked up at me, his voice a block of ice. “Cathy, what is the meaning of this?” I pointed a trembling finger at Obsidian and told him exactly what Isabelle had done. Isabelle panicked, her sobs growing louder. “Randall, darling, I didn’t mean to! It was Obsidian, he was being disobedient, he kicked me in the stomach! I just lost my temper and hit him a few times, I didn’t realize I’d grabbed the wrong whip… I really didn’t mean it…” It was the most ridiculous excuse I had ever heard. But Randall believed her. He lifted Isabelle’s shirt to look at her stomach. Sure enough, there was a faint red mark. He turned his cold glare on me. “Cathy, Obsidian is just an animal. So what if Isabelle hit him? It wouldn’t matter if she beat him to death. How can you compare a beast to a person? You shouldn’t take advantage of my affection for you to attack Isabelle. Apologize to her. Now!” My heart shuddered. Obsidian had saved his life, and now he was calling him a beast. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Apologize? Fine. On one condition: we get a divorce.” At the mention of divorce, Randall flew into a rage. “Cathy, have you not caused enough trouble? You want a divorce over something so trivial? Can you stop being so unreasonable?” “Unreasonable? Why don’t you check the security cameras? Then we’ll see who’s being unreasonable!” At the mention of cameras, Isabelle, who had been enjoying the show, went pale. “Randall, darling, I’m fine, really. Please don’t fight with Cathy because of me…” She made a show of trying to stand, looking faint. Randall immediately rushed to support her, his glare fixed on me. “Cathy, Isabelle is being the bigger person here. I don’t want to argue with you. Go home and think about what you’ve done.” He then helped Isabelle walk away. As they reached a safe distance, she turned and flipped me the middle finger. I turned back to Obsidian, unfastening his chains. I whispered in his ear. “My brave boy, want to get some revenge?” Obsidian understood. He let out a powerful neigh and shot forward like an arrow, closing the distance to Randall and Isabelle in a heartbeat. With a single, powerful kick, he sent them both sprawling, face-first, into the mud. I clutched my stomach, doubled over with laughter. Randall glared at me, his face a mask of fury. Isabelle, however, was more cunning. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed in a dramatic faint. Randall panicked. He made a huge scene, rushing her to his family’s hospital. I stroked Obsidian’s neck as he trotted back to me, sighing. “Well, my boy, I think we might be in a little trouble.” 3 When the test results came back from the hospital, an exhausted Randall called me. “Cathy, look what your beast has done. The doctor said Isabelle was kicked in her womb. She’ll never be able to have children. This is your fault. Come to the hospital and apologize. If you beg, maybe she’ll forgive you for my sake.” My hand holding the phone trembled slightly. Obsidian was incredibly intelligent. He would never have truly harmed her. Besides, even I, an outsider, knew that Isabelle had spent years planting her own people throughout Randall’s hospital network. Forging a medical report would be child’s play for her. When I arrived at the O’Neill Family Hospital, a group of doctors glared at me with contempt. “How can another woman be so vicious? Forcing her animal to attack like that.” “Please. Everyone knows she’s just jealous that Ms. Isabelle is Mr. O’Neill’s first love.” I ignored them, my gaze fixed on Randall, who was silently feeding Isabelle a spoonful of medicine. He hadn’t told anyone about our secret marriage, and it was clear he had no intention of clarifying things now. I remembered my father’s words about the life debt. I could tolerate being nameless, but Obsidian was my line in the sand. An apology was out of the question. But I was willing to offer compensation. “Randall,” I said, my voice steady, “this entire incident began because Isabelle attacked Obsidian first. She was the one in the wrong. However, I am willing to give her this hospital as compensation—” Before I could finish, Isabelle’s face went white. She pouted, tears welling in her eyes. “Randall, darling, she’s cursing me! Who wants a hospital as compensation? I just want that beast dead! Or I want its stomach cut open!” Isabelle screamed hysterically, and Randall wrapped his arms around her, soothing her. “Okay, okay, Isabelle, don’t get excited. I promise you, darling, whatever you want…” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “Randall, if you dare touch a single hair on Obsidian’s head, I will make you and Isabelle pay a price you cannot imagine.” Randall stood up, his fingers digging into my arm as he leaned in, his voice a venomous hiss in my ear. “Cathy, what do you have to threaten me with now? Have you forgotten that after we married, you signed all of your shares over to me? You’re not the Vice President of O’Neill Industries anymore!” He smirked. “Be a good girl. Be the wife behind the man. Don’t talk back to your husband.” His words were like a snake’s poison. I looked up at his triumphant face, and my heart turned to ice. Was this truly the descendant of the man who saved my grandfather? How could he be so selfish, so utterly repulsive? Seeing the dawning realization on my face, Randall smiled. Isabelle, too, looked satisfied. The medical staff in the room snickered. But I simply pulled out my phone. “Hello, Linda,” I said into the phone. “Issue a corporate directive. Effective immediately, Ms. Isabelle is blacklisted from all O’Neill Industries subsidiaries and affiliates. Anyone who dares to employ her or work with her is to be terminated, no exceptions.” Randall stared at me in disbelief. He lunged forward, snatching the phone from my hand and smashing it on the ground. “Cathy, are you insane? It’s just a horse! Do you have to be so malicious?” He grabbed my wrist, his voice a growl through clenched teeth. I grinned. “Randall, have you forgotten? Obsidian saved your life. Without him, you would have broken your neck and died during that riding lesson years ago. You wouldn’t even be here to be such an ungrateful bastard.” Randall fell silent. He let go of my hand, looking helplessly at Isabelle on the bed. Finally, he turned back to me. “Cathy, this is the last time. If Obsidian dares to hurt anyone again, I will not be so lenient.” His tone shifted, becoming cold and official. “However, I will be sending out a memo. From this day forward, you no longer have any say or decision-making power in the company. To compensate Isabelle, I will be appointing her to your former position as Vice President, and she will join the core management team.” At this, Isabelle’s eyes lit up with joy. The doctors and nurses in the room immediately began congratulating her. I just laughed, looking at him as if he were the biggest fool in the world. Did Randall really think I had made a real phone call? They didn’t realize it, but in that moment, I had completely and cleanly severed myself from O’Neill Industries. 4 Seeing that I had no objection to his decision, Randall let out a sigh of relief. He dismissed the medical staff, then turned back to whisper a few sweet nothings to Isabelle, which made her blush deeply. He pulled me out to the parking garage, his expression and tone instantly softening. He looked at me with deep affection as he explained. “My darling wife, there were so many people there. You have to help me keep up appearances, right?” He continued, “And about Isabelle… yes, she’s my first love, that’s true. But I also feel sorry for her. Both of her parents are gone. In this whole world, I’m the only one she can rely on. Do you understand?” I smirked, a bitter irony twisting my lips. Randall seemed to have forgotten that in this world, I, too, was all alone. But it didn’t matter. After tomorrow, Cathy would cease to exist. I couldn’t care less what kind of sordid life he wanted to live with Isabelle. As for our marriage certificate, the Keeper would handle its annulment. After his little speech, Randall made an excuse about having work to do and left. I knew he was going back to Isabelle. Just to be safe, I took Obsidian to the Keeper’s sanctuary. With that done, I returned home. The moment I opened the door, I saw Isabelle lounging on the sofa, eating fruit, while Randall massaged her calves. Seeing me, Randall jumped up and began to explain. “Isabelle has nowhere else to go…” I waved a hand, a generous smile on my face. “It’s fine. Do you want me to give you the master bedroom?” Randall frowned, but Isabelle, surprisingly, was incredibly polite to me. “Cathy, I’m so sorry to impose. Don’t worry, as soon as I find a place, I’ll move out. I promise I won’t disturb you and Randall.” Her sincere expression sent a shiver down my spine. After Randall went upstairs to prepare a room for her, Isabelle sat across from me and began to prepare tea. “Heh,” she began with a little laugh. “Randall told me he hasn’t touched you yet. He says you’re an old-fashioned prude, insisting on a grand wedding before you’ll sleep with him. What century are you living in? A woman like you will never be able to hold onto a man.” I watched her skillful, practiced movements as she prepared the tea, saying nothing. She placed one cup in front of me, and one in front of herself. I almost laughed out loud. Such a clumsy, pathetic attempt at a setup. Just as we heard Randall’s footsteps coming down the stairs, Isabelle suddenly raised her voice, a bright smile on her face. “Wow, Cathy, the tea you made smells amazing!” With that, she drank her cup in one gulp. Randall reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to see it. He was about to praise my tea-making skills when Isabelle suddenly coughed, spraying a mouthful of blood onto the floor. Randall was horrified. He rushed over to her, frantic. Isabelle clutched his shirt, her voice weak. “Randall, darling… I tried so hard to please Cathy, but it seems she still can’t accept me…” At that moment, any explanation I could offer would have been pointless. I expected Randall to fly into a rage, to lecture me and protect Isabelle. Instead, he calmly called for an ambulance to take Isabelle to the hospital. Then he walked me back to my room and kissed my forehead. “My love, so much has happened these past few days. You must be exhausted. I haven’t made you my special soup in so long. Tonight, I’ll make some for you, to help you recover.” He turned and went downstairs. I watched his retreating back, an infinite coldness spreading through my heart. If I didn’t know what he was planning now, I was no better than a fool. After he coaxed me into drinking the sweet soup, a look of relief flashed across Randall’s face. I pretended my consciousness was fading. His soft voice whispered in my ear. “Sleep, Cathy. Sleep now. Don’t blame me…” Next, I was carried into a black van. Randall, his face a mask of sorrow, kissed my forehead one last time, finally revealing his true intentions. “Cathy, I know what you’re capable of. For Isabelle’s safety, I have to do this. Just for a little while. Once you’ve cooled down, once you’ve learned to coexist peacefully with Isabelle, I’ll let you come back…”

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The day I returned, an airline official said there was a problem with my luggage. They led me to a private room. When the door opened, the scent of roses overwhelmed me—the floor covered in red petals. And there was Ethan, my Ethan, the man I once thought was the love of my life, kneeling with a ring, his eyes full of longing. The Grant family erupted in cheers. “Marry him! Say yes!” Everyone expected me to cry and whisper “I do.” After all, I’d spent five years worshipping him before he noticed me. But they’d forgotten. Forgotten how, three years ago, Ethan accused me of plagiarizing his protégé’s work. Forgotten how he reported me for alcoholism, blaming me for a patient’s death. I was thrown out like trash, beaten by the grieving family outside. With every door closed, I fled the country to rebuild my life. Now, Ethan’s father claimed, “He spent everything to clear your name. He’s waited for you, crying over your photo.” I stayed silent, my gaze drifting to my bag—to the marriage certificate inside. 1 “That whole incident was a huge mess, Audrey. You had to give him time to sort things out. Why did you just run off in a huff?” “He’s been a wreck these past three years because you left without a word. He barely eats, barely sleeps. He’s torn this city apart looking for you.” From the moment I’d been ushered into this room, Mr. Grant had been clinging to my hand, his words a relentless stream. He had aged considerably in three years. The sharp, judgmental glare he used to give me—the one that screamed I wasn’t good enough for his son—was gone, replaced by a weary sadness. But his words were still as sharp as ever. He was trying to paint his son as a tragic romantic hero, but all I heard was blame. Honestly, the name ‘Ethan’ sounded foreign to me now. Three years is a long time. More than enough to wash away a past that was never worth remembering in the first place. It was obvious they had no idea I was married. I gently pulled my hand from Mr. Grant’s grasp, my expression a placid mask. “Mr. Grant, Ethan and I ended things three years ago. I don’t understand why you’re telling me any of this.” The Grants stared at me, their faces a collective mask of disbelief. This was not the reaction they had anticipated from the girl who once would have done anything for Ethan. The girl who had thrown away an acceptance letter from Johns Hopkins just to work at the same city hospital as him. Just to be near him. Just to take care of him. Being a doctor is a grueling profession, but I made sure he had three home-cooked meals a day. I took on his extra surgeries to ease his workload, even when I was so exhausted I could barely stand by the end of my own shifts. I even put his name on my research papers so he could get promoted faster, forcing myself through sleepless night after sleepless night, my body growing paler and more fragile. But when Ethan finally accepted my proposal, none of it mattered. It was all worth it. Suddenly, my life was a dream. I’d return to my office to find a hot coffee on my desk, a small note with his sweet words scrawled on it. When a patient’s family got aggressive, he would step in, a solid wall of protection. As our wedding day approached, we’d spend hours planning our honeymoon, picking out venues together. He once fought with the hospital director just to get a day off so we could go try on wedding dresses. I remember the look in his eyes as I twirled on the platform in a cloud of white lace—pure, unadulterated adoration. Even the shop assistant sighed, “I’ve never seen a couple so in love.” Back then, I truly believed I must have saved a nation in a past life to deserve a man like him. And then, a new doctor transferred to our department. Her name was Chloe. From that day on, Ethan stopped talking about the wedding. The coffee on my desk disappeared. At first, I told myself he was just busy, mentoring the new subordinate. I didn’t want to bother him. But then the venue coordinator called, saying they needed Ethan’s final signature. I had no choice but to knock on his office door. He sighed, annoyed. “It’s such a hassle. Can’t you just sign for me?” But when I arrived at the venue, the coordinator handed me two contracts. One for me. And one for Chloe. The groom’s name on both was Ethan Grant. 2 My hand, clutching the papers, was slick with sweat. It’s just a coincidence, I told myself, a simple mix-up of names. But when I returned to the hospital, I found my colleagues gathered around, each holding a small box of wedding candy. They were showering Chloe with congratulations on her marriage. And Ethan… Ethan was leaning against the far wall, a soft, tender smile on his face as he watched the girl at the center of the crowd. In that moment, it felt like a scalpel had plunged straight into my heart. The pain was so sharp I couldn’t breathe. He turned, and his eyes met mine. He saw the tears welling up, the crimson blush of betrayal on my face, but there wasn’t a flicker of sympathy in his expression. Just a cool, detached inquiry. “You’re back already? Did you get it signed?” My gaze swept over the laughing crowd, then back to him. I slapped the documents against his chest. “Which one are you talking about?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Mine? Or Chloe’s?” My accusation made him frown. “Can we talk about this at home? I’ll explain everything. Everyone’s having a good time right now. Don’t make a scene and ruin the mood.” A scene? Ruin the mood? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I couldn’t believe it. The man who was whispering “my wife” in my ear just a few nights ago was now standing here, humiliating me. Perhaps my laughter stung him, because a flash of guilt crossed his face. He softened his tone. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t overthink things.” He glanced at his watch. “I have a surgery now. I’ll come to your office as soon as I’m done, okay, Audrey?” He reached out, his hand gently patting my arm in a placating gesture. I flinched away, wiping the corner of my eye with the back of my hand as I turned to leave. “Fine,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. Ethan started to call after me, but he stopped himself. I waited in my office, staring blankly at a patient’s chart, the words blurring into meaningless shapes. I don’t know how much time passed before a knock came at the door. “Come in.” Ethan entered, holding a cup of coffee. “Brought you this. I heard you have a long surgery later. This should help.” I glanced at the cup. It was blank. No note. I gave a quiet “mmhmm.” “Chloe is my junior from medical school,” he began, his voice earnest. “Her family is very traditional, and they’ve been pressuring her to get married. A few days ago, her mother threatened to kill herself over it. She asked me to help her out, just for a little while.” He paused, watching my reaction. “I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d misunderstand.” I sipped the coffee, listening in silence. Finally, I asked, “So, you two are legally married?” He hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. Seeing the look on my face, he rushed to explain. “Don’t worry. As soon as I meet her parents and they’re satisfied, we’ll get a divorce. Chloe’s not the clingy type. She promised.” He sounded so sincere, but the whole story was just… insane. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Seeing my continued silence, he reached into the pocket of his white coat and pulled out a small box. He dropped to one knee, his eyes locked on mine. “Trust me, Audrey. You’re the only one I love.” His voice was a low, desperate plea. “I know this is hard on you. But once this is all over, I promise I’ll give you the grandest wedding you’ve ever seen.” Before I could even think to refuse, he slid a diamond ring onto my finger. Then he took out the matching band and put it on his own. The brilliant sparkle on my hand seemed to calm the storm in my heart, just a little. Maybe… maybe he really was just helping a friend. 3 He never wore that ring again. His excuse was flawless: he couldn’t wear it during surgery. He and Chloe became inseparable at the hospital, acting for all the world like a devoted couple. They were in the conference rooms together, the cafeteria, the hallways. They were the hospital’s golden couple. And I became the “crazy ex.” Rumors started to spread that I was a bitter mistress who couldn’t accept defeat. I was about to set the record straight when Chloe cornered me. She strolled up to me, hands stuffed in her pockets, a smug, challenging look in her eyes. “Dr. Lin,” she began, using my formal title, “Ethan is my husband. I hope you’ll stop bothering him from now on.” She smirked. “He told me everything. He only got with you because you hounded him relentlessly. No wonder a relationship built on begging is so fragile.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do yourself a favor. Resign.” My nails dug into my palms, but my face remained a mask of calm. “Chloe, I have no intention of resigning. And you are not my superior. You don’t have the authority to fire me.” She laughed, a sharp, unpleasant sound. She pulled her hands from her pockets and crossed them over her chest. “Oh, really? Let’s make a bet, then. A bet on how you’ll be leaving this hospital.” I ignored her and simply showed her the door. That evening, I told Ethan everything. To my shock, he didn’t believe me. Instead, he turned on me. “I already told you I’m going to divorce her! Why can’t you just be patient? Why do you have to make up such ridiculous stories to attack her?” His voice rose with frustration. “She’s trying to force you to resign? Logically, isn’t it more likely that you’re the one trying to drive her away?” “Audrey, stop it. I’m trying to focus on my career right now. I thought you’d support me, help me, like you used to. The least you can do is not add to my stress.” … I hung up the phone. I pulled the ring from my finger and tossed it into the back of a drawer. Ethan was right. I needed to focus on my career. My own ambitions had stagnated while I poured all my energy into him. It was time to change that. I threw myself into studying for the annual board certification exams. In the weeks that followed, Ethan and I became ghosts to each other. We didn’t speak. We didn’t text. If we passed in the hallway, we were strangers, not even colleagues. Finally, the day of the exam results arrived. I was called into the director’s office. He slammed his fist on the desk, his face red with fury. The research paper I had submitted was identical, word for word, to Chloe’s. Faced with the accusation, I wasn’t nervous. I knew my work. I was a far more skilled researcher than she was. But no one in that room believed me. Someone shoved a phone in my face. It was Chloe’s social media feed, filled with daily updates on her “progress” with the paper. My colleagues had, in effect, watched her “write” it from scratch. A torrent of insults rained down on me. “Plagiarist.” “Thief.” My eyes scanned the room, past the accusing faces, until they landed on Ethan, standing at the very back. He deliberately avoided my gaze. And in that moment, I knew. There was only one other person in the world who knew the password to my computer. It was his birthday. The evidence was damning. The director demoted me on the spot. I ignored him. I pushed through the crowd of scornful colleagues and walked straight up to Ethan. I grabbed his chin and forced his head up, making him look at me. “Ethan,” I asked, my voice deadly calm, “do you also believe I copied her?” I saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes, a tiny hesitation before it was extinguished, replaced by a single, devastating word: “Yes.” A small, broken laugh escaped my lips. I let him go. As I turned away, my eyes burned so intensely I felt they could bleed. “Audrey…” I heard him call my name, his voice suddenly uncertain. But I didn’t stop. I walked straight out of that conference room and didn’t look back. After that day, my colleagues began to shun me completely. No one wanted to be associated with the “plagiarist,” the “homewrecker.” I didn’t care. I buried myself in my work, a phantom flitting between the office and the operating room. A demotion was nothing. I could climb my way back up. Until the day the director threw a letter in my face. An anonymous tip. An accusation that I had performed surgery while intoxicated, resulting in a patient’s death. For a moment, the world tilted. The words were English, but they made no sense. “Director, there must be a mistake,” I stammered. “That patient had a severe congenital heart defect. He was critical when he arrived.” The director didn’t speak. He just gestured to the witness he’d brought in. The anesthesiologist from that surgery—Chloe’s best friend. “Director, she’s Chloe’s closest friend! Chloe and I have a history. This is a setup!” “Enough!”

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1 Only after the System reactivated did I learn that my seemingly simple wife was, in fact, a master of disguise with a hidden empire. The mob boss who had kidnapped me and scarred my face for life? That was her. The wealthiest person in the country, the one who orchestrated my family’s bankruptcy? Also her. And the brilliant surgeon my mother begged for until her dying day, the one who refused to operate? Still her. I was just a pawn in the twisted game she played with the family’s true heir. Before I left this world, I made one final request of the System: “Release all of Amelia Bennett’s secret identities and criminal evidence to the public.” I wanted her to know what it felt like to be played for a fool. I clutched the cold, heavy urn, my heart a numb, hollow space. Soft arms wrapped around my waist from behind. “Nathan,” Amelia whispered, her voice a gentle caress, the perfect imitation of a caring, devoted wife. “If you need to cry, I’m here for you.” How ironic. She was also the one who had promised to perform the life-saving brain surgery on my mother, only to back out the day before, leaving her to die. My mother’s killer. I silently placed the urn on the ground. To my left stood my father’s headstone. After the Chen Corporation’s finances began to crumble, it was Amelia, in her guise as the nation’s richest tycoon, who had delivered the final, fatal blow. My father, overwhelmed by grief and stress, died of a cerebral hemorrhage. “Host,” the System’s voice echoed in my mind, “Amelia’s affection meter is almost full. Are you sure you want to exit this world?” The thought was laughable. When I first entered this world, the System went dormant. I was an adopted son, but I had lived with the Chen family for over twenty years. They were my true parents in every way that mattered. Amelia knew this. She knew how much I loved them, yet she destroyed them without a second thought. How could she possibly love me? “Confirm,” I replied without hesitation. The System sounded regretful. “Exit sequence initiated. T-minus three days.” The sharp sound of clapping cut through the somber air. A man in a garish floral shirt and shorts swaggered over, his hair slicked back. “Good riddance,” he sneered. “A truly wonderful day for a celebration.” Rage ignited within me. “What the hell are you doing, wearing that to my mother’s funeral?” The man, Nicky, let out a derisive snort and ripped the surgical mask from my face. My reflection stared back at him from his sunglasses—a hideous tapestry of crisscrossing scars. “An ugly freak like you shouldn’t be here, shaming her memory. She probably can’t even rest in peace.” The phantom pain of a blade slicing through my flesh returned, a chilling memory. My hands began to tremble. I clenched them into tight fists, refusing to show any weakness. Amelia rose onto her tiptoes and cupped my scarred face in her hands. “Nathan,” she murmured, her eyes soft and full of a gentle light. “In my eyes, you’ll always be the most handsome man in the world.” Her gaze was so tender. A stark contrast to the cold, cruel eyes of the woman who had held the knife to my face. I shoved her away with a guttural roar. “Don’t touch me!” She froze, her hands hovering in the air. Nicky’s face twisted in disgust. “You’re just a thief who stole my place. You have no shame. Getting your face ruined was exactly what you deserved.” I bit down hard on my lip. Nicky’s disappearance as a child had been a tragic accident. My adoptive parents had never stopped looking for him. They had taken me in out of pity, a moment of compassion for an abandoned child. When they finally found him, they had tried to give him everything, to make up for all the lost years. I had moved out of the family home voluntarily, not wanting to make things difficult for them. But Nicky was relentless. The Chen Corporation fell because he had whispered in Amelia’s ear, “Amelia, I hate the Chens. Destroy them for me.” My mother died without her surgery because he had said, “Amelia, that old woman is the reason I suffered for so long. You’re not allowed to save her.” Even Amelia’s kidnapping of me had been at his command. A small, soft hand covered my clenched fist. Amelia’s eyes were gentle. “Nathan, no matter what happens, I will always love you. Let’s go home, okay?” My lips pressed into a thin line. I remembered the System telling me that Nicky had originally wanted to break my arms and legs, to cripple me completely. It was Amelia who had intervened. She had suggested disfiguring my face instead. Was that love? “Amelia, I need to talk to you. Come with me.” With just one sentence from Nicky, she let go of my hand. “Nathan, you go home first. I’ll just be a minute.” 2 Their figures quickly disappeared from view. I let out a self-deprecating laugh and lowered my gaze. “System, make me invisible. I’m following them.” The gates of the estate, wrought from solid gold, were an ostentatious display of wealth that shocked even me, someone who was no stranger to the lavish lifestyles of the rich. “Host,” the System informed me, “this estate was Amelia’s birthday gift to Nicky last year. It’s valued at six hundred million.” I felt a pang of something I couldn’t name. In the high-society circles, everyone knew that the long-lost daughter the Bennetts had found was a beautiful but vapid country girl. If it weren’t for a debt of gratitude my family owed hers, I never would have married her. By a strange twist of fate, she turned out to be my target. On my birthday last year, she had shyly handed me a bouquet of flowers. “Nathan, I bought these with the money I earned from a month of working part-time. I hope you don’t mind.” The flowers, worth maybe three hundred dollars, were nothing compared to the other extravagant gifts I received. But not wanting to hurt her feelings, I, a grown man, held onto that bouquet for the entire party. Now, looking at the exotic plants in this garden, each one worth tens of thousands, that simple bouquet felt like a cruel joke. I walked into the villa, my face a stoic mask. Nicky had Amelia pinned against the sofa, kissing her hungrily. He held the back of her head, his breathing ragged. “Amelia, divorce him. Marry me.” The System clicked its tongue. “Host, do you think she’ll agree?” I smirked. The answer was obvious. They had grown up together in an orphanage. Over the years, Amelia had professed her love for him ninety-nine times. Now that her devotion was finally being returned, how could she possibly refuse? But to my surprise, Amelia hesitated. Her face was still flushed from his kisses. “Nicky, just wait a little longer. Nathan has just lost everything. I’m afraid this would be too much for him.” My heart stopped for a beat. Nicky leaned in, their noses touching. “Amelia, I’m only giving you one chance. If you don’t agree, I’m leaving your company. And I’m marrying Scarlett.” I had almost forgotten. Amelia had started an entire talent agency just for Nicky, paving his way to the top of the entertainment industry. As for Scarlett, she was the CEO of a rival company and one of Nicky’s most ardent admirers. Amelia immediately threw her arms around his neck and kissed him without a second thought. “I won’t let you marry another woman!” He nibbled on her lip. “Then call Nathan right now. Tell him you’re divorcing him tomorrow.” She reluctantly got up and dialed my number. I silently switched my phone to silent mode. Hearing the unanswered ringtone, Amelia frowned. She tapped a few things on her phone, then shot to her feet. “Oh no! Nathan is in this villa!” I frowned. Could she see me? Nicky frowned too. “Amelia, how do you know where he is?” Her expression was grave. “I installed a tracking program on his phone to monitor him.” The System scanned my phone and, sure enough, found a suspicious program. Installation date: our wedding day. “Host, I forgot to mention, Amelia is also a world-class hacker. I’ve already removed the program.” A cold wind seemed to blow through the hollow space in my chest. “What? The signal is gone!” Amelia’s face was a mask of a panic I had never seen before. “Nicky, I have to go home and check on him!” She rushed out, nearly tripping in her high heels. Nicky shouted after her, “Amelia! Don’t forget you promised to divorce him!” I took a deep breath. “System, take me home.” After the Chen family’s bankruptcy, “home” was a tiny apartment, less than five hundred square feet. “Nathan!” Amelia burst through the door, her face frantic. When she saw me sitting quietly on the sofa, she let out a sigh of relief. She turned on the light. 3 “Why are you sitting in the dark? I thought you weren’t here. You didn’t answer your phone. I was so worried.” I managed a faint smile. “We’re bankrupt now. Trying to save on electricity. My phone… I dropped it down a storm drain on the way back from the cemetery. It’s probably broken.” The tension in her body finally dissipated. She sat down next to me, leaning into my arms. “It’s okay. We’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.” I changed the subject. “You called me. Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Her body tensed again. “Nathan… let’s get a divorce tomorrow.” “Okay.” She sat up straight, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her voice was strained. “You’re not going to ask why?” I suddenly wanted to hear what kind of lie she would spin this time. “Why?” I asked, playing along. She hesitated, then stammered, “You know… Mom always felt she owed Nicky… Before she passed, she made me promise to make a home with him.” It was probably the worst acting performance of her life. Her eyes darted around, and a sheen of sweat beaded on her forehead. But I didn’t call her out on it. “I see.” She opened her mouth to say more, but I couldn’t stand the scent of Nicky’s cloying cologne on her any longer. I couldn’t understand what she saw in that greasy, effeminate man. “Is there anything else?” She chewed on her lip for a moment, then lowered her head. “I have to go. I won’t be staying with you tonight.” I wasn’t surprised. Since my family’s downfall, she had been spending every night with him. I was used to the cold, empty nights. The next day, the divorce was finalized quickly. As we walked out of the city hall, Amelia’s eyes were filled with guilt. “Nathan, I’m sorry. If you ever need anything, you can always call me.” I gave a noncommittal nod. “Amelia, let’s go get our license,” Nicky said, draping his arm possessively around her. She instinctively glanced at my face. I smiled. “Don’t forget to take off our wedding rings.” She froze. Nicky smirked, pulled the ring from her finger, and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “You’re right. Garbage should be thrown out as soon as possible.” I ignored his taunt and walked away. On the way home, the System warned me, “Host, Nicky is angry that you ignored him. He’s told Amelia to kidnap and ‘teach you a lesson’ again.” I laughed softly. I had nothing left to lose. A familiar, dull pain exploded at the back of my head. I woke up in the cemetery. My body was weak, probably from being drugged again. Behind me, I felt a familiar, cold presence, like a snake coiling in the dark. “Mr. Chen. We meet again.” She wore a mask and used a voice changer, but I knew. It was Amelia. Who would have thought that the gentle, fragile woman was also the city’s most feared and ruthless mob boss? A cold blade pressed against my neck. This time, my heart didn’t pound with fear. I let out a cold laugh. “Last time it was my face. What is it this time? Are you going to kill me?” My lack of fear seemed to surprise her. After a moment, she chuckled. “Mr. Chen, you’ve angered the wrong person. I brought you here to watch a little show.” She dragged me to my mother’s grave. I watched as she picked up the urn, and my pupils constricted. “What are you doing?” “Nothing much. Just scattering your parents’ ashes.” It was like being struck by lightning. I fought with all my might, but my limbs were useless. I didn’t care about her and Nicky. My heart was already dead to her. But my family… they were the last soft spot in my heart. “Do whatever you want to me!” I screamed, my voice raw. “Just don’t touch their ashes!” She paused, but then she opened the urn.

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1 On the eve of our wedding, my fiancé, Adrian McLynn, fell from a building and died. Everyone expected me, his devoted partner, to follow him in death. But I didn’t shed a single tear. Three years later, I saw him again. Not only was he alive, but he claimed to have amnesia. “So, you’re my former fiancée?” he sneered, looking me up and down. “It’s been a few years. You’ve let yourself go. Tell you what, out of respect for our old relationship, I can set aside one day a week for you. An opportunity to serve me.” I didn’t even bother to look at him. What Adrian didn’t know was that on the night he “died,” I received a video. What he knew even less was that during the three years he spent faking amnesia and traveling the world with another woman, I had gotten married. To his older brother. I stood outside the private room, unnoticed. Inside, someone’s voice cut through the boisterous laughter. “Adrian, it’s been three years. What are you going to do about Katherine?” Adrian’s voice was nonchalant. “Three years have passed, what’s the rush? I’ll deal with it after I marry Nina.” A chorus of snickers followed. “I’m telling you, that Katherine has some nerve. Seeing Adrian again after all this time, she’s probably going to stand there like an idiot.” “I heard she’s had a rough few years. See? Without Adrian, her life is just a pile of shit.” The room was thick with their cruel amusement, their mockery undisguised. I was about to turn and leave when someone spotted me. “Katherine!?” Suddenly, all eyes were on me. The one who had been laughing the loudest now scratched his head awkwardly, trying to smooth things over. “Katherine, uh, Adrian’s alive. We didn’t tell you because… he has amnesia. We didn’t want to shock you.” I shot them a look of disgust. Before I could speak, Adrian gave me a thorough, condescending once-over. “So, you’re my fiancée, huh? You look… pathetic. They tell me your life went downhill fast after I was gone.” He was still the same arrogant man. But the tolerance I once had for him had curdled into a deep, weary revulsion. Seeing my silence, Adrian wasn’t annoyed. He lazily pulled Nina into his arms, his finger tracing circles on her lips. Nina giggled, capturing his hand and shooting me a triumphant, challenging glare. “Katherine, it’s been three years. Look at you. No wonder Adrian forgot you. Who would remember someone like this?” My jaw clenched, my hands balling into fists. Their brazen display was nauseating. Adrian, however, misinterpreted my reaction as jealousy. He looked pleased with himself. “Come on, don’t be so possessive,” he said with a smirk. “If you want to be with me, you’ll have to get used to this arrangement. Don’t worry. I’ll make time for you one day a week.” At his words, the others swarmed me, their voices a mix of pity and condescension. “See, Katherine? Adrian still has a soft spot for you! Even with amnesia, he’s making room for you in his schedule!” “Just play your cards right, keep Adrian and Nina happy, and your life will be a lot better than it is now. Look at yourself. You must be tired of being a charity case. This is your chance!” Nina lounged on the sofa, her long legs draped over the coffee table, her body pressed against Adrian’s. She clicked her tongue. “Sorry, Katherine, but you’ll have to be patient. I’m the one he loves most now.” Adrian let out a smug chuckle. He admired Nina’s freshly manicured nails and spared me a dismissive glance. “What’s she got to be patient about? She’s obsessed with me. She should be grateful I’m giving her one day.” His words struck a raw nerve. The man before me was a stranger. Years ago, he had loved me so fiercely. I remembered a time I had a raging fever, 104 degrees, that wouldn’t break for days. He dropped everything to stay by my side, and then he drove to the old monastery on Mount Sterling, climbed all nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine steps on his knees, praying at each one, to bring me back a charm for my health. When he returned, his forehead was bruised and bleeding, his knees raw and bloody. I was speechless with heartache, calling him a fool. But he had cupped my face in his hands, his touch so tender. “As long as you’re safe and healthy,” he’d whispered, “my life is a small price to pay.” The memories were so vivid, but the man was gone. 2 It was terrifying how much a person could change. I suppressed the turmoil in my heart and met Adrian’s gaze. I held up my hand, flashing my wedding ring, and kept my voice as steady as I could. “You have the wrong person.” “And I’m already married.” The room fell silent. Everyone exchanged confused glances, and then the silence erupted into a roar of laughter. Adrian raised an eyebrow, unconcerned. He glanced at my ring. “Married? To who? A pizza delivery guy?” He sneered. “Look at you. You probably bought that ring at a dollar store. What, you thought this would jog my memory?” He shot up from his seat, lunged forward, and ripped the ring from my finger. I was exhausted from a long week on a demanding project and couldn’t react in time. Nina took the ring and examined it, then burst out laughing. “Adrian, this looks just like that pair of ‘Eternity’s Heart’ rings your brother won at that auction in Paris three years ago.” She looked at me sideways, tossing the ring in her hand. “Don’t tell me the person Katherine married is… your brother, Maxwell?” The room buzzed with renewed amusement. The idea was too absurd. Maxwell McLynn was the current heir to the McLynn empire, a ruthless, decisive man feared throughout the business world—an untouchable ice king. Three years ago, he had suddenly married a mysterious woman and, by all accounts, was utterly devoted to her. The media had been trying for three years to uncover any information about his wife and son, but they had found nothing. “Katherine, you’re not going to tell us you’re the mysterious woman no one’s been able to identify for three years, are you?” Nina tossed the ring into the air again. It caught the light, glinting brightly. “You know, I have to admit, it’s a pretty good fake. Where’d you get it made?” The relentless mockery was getting on my nerves. “Don’t touch my ring. It’s real…” Before I could finish, Adrian’s hand cracked across my face. The sting was sharp and immediate. “Katherine, have you lost your mind? Spreading rumors about my brother? Everyone knows how much he loves my sister-in-law. I haven’t even met her, and you have the audacity to impersonate her? Who do you think you are?!” I licked my dry lips and slowly turned my head to meet his eyes. My glare must have been unnerving because he flinched. Seeing this, Nina jumped to his defense, jabbing a finger at my face. “How could you be so heartless, Katherine? Adrian offered you one day a week! Not only are you ungrateful, but now you’re impersonating his sister-in-law? Everyone in our circle knows that Maxwell’s wife is his one weakness. Are you trying to get him to take his anger out on Adrian? You’re a venomous bitch!” Her words struck me with a strange sense of clarity. Once, Nina had been my rival, constantly trying to one-up me, to turn Adrian against me. Back then, he had never believed her. He had even punished her for her malicious lies. Now, the man who had once been my greatest defender was standing with her. He took her hand and then threw a wad of cash in my face. “Alright, stop the act. For old times’ sake, I’ll let it go. You look like you need it. This should last you a month.” The sharp corner of a bill cut my cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. I ignored it, my eyes locked on Adrian. A flicker of guilt, of panic, crossed his face. I let out a short, cold laugh and bent down. The guilt on his face vanished, replaced by a familiar sneer. “I thought you had more pride than that…” His words died in his throat. As he stared, stunned, I sifted through the pile of red bills and found my ring. He snapped out of his shock and blocked my way as I tried to leave. “What are you still pretending for? Any one of those bills is worth more than a hundred of your pathetic rings!” His expression was a complex mix of emotions, but underneath it all, I saw a flash of anger. I ignored him and slapped his hand away. His hand froze in mid-air, and he ground his teeth. “Fine. You’ve gotten bold. I guess poverty does give you a temper. In three days, Nina and I are getting married. My brother will be back in the country for it, and he’s bringing my mysterious sister-in-law with him. If you have the guts, show up!” 3 At the mention of the wedding, Nina’s eyes lit up. “She probably won’t come,” she chimed in. “She’ll be too scared of being exposed.” I had no desire to engage with them any longer. I turned and strode out, tossing a final comment over my shoulder. “I’ll be there in three days. I hope you’re just as confident then.” Stepping out of the club and into the fresh air, the nausea that had been churning in my stomach finally began to subside. I took out my phone and watched the video again, the one I had received three years ago. On the screen, a man held Nina close, his smile lazy and wild. “Katherine is just so… boring,” he was saying. “I love her, sure, but she can’t give me the excitement I need. This ‘death’ is just a little break. I’ll go back when I’ve had my fun. She’s the type you settle down with. But with a stunt like this, knowing her, she might actually try to kill herself. You guys better keep an eye on her.” The day I received his death certificate, I had considered ending it all. It was his friends who had stopped me, begging me not to do something so foolish. Looking back now, I realized their twisted, tear-stained faces were just masks, hiding their laughter. I put my phone away and looked up at the dim, yellow streetlights. Whether Adrian McLynn was dead or alive, he had ceased to exist for me three years ago. Three days later, I arrived at the wedding. The moment Adrian saw me walk in, the tension in his shoulders visibly eased. I averted my gaze and calmly made my way to a seat, but someone tripped me. I stumbled, crashing into the nine-tiered wedding cake. Icing, decorations, and layers of cake came tumbling down, covering my expensive gown in a sticky, sweet mess. I was a disaster. A wine glass shattered, and a shard of glass sliced my cheek, blood welling up at my temple. The hall erupted in gasps. All eyes were on me. Icing blurred my vision. I struggled to get up, but before I could find my footing, someone shoved me back down. Nina’s furious voice came from above. “Katherine, what the hell is your problem? We were kind enough to invite you, and you don’t even bring a gift. Now you’re deliberately ruining our wedding? You just can’t stand to see us happy, can you?!” The wedding was packed, mostly with people hoping to get a glimpse of Maxwell and his mysterious wife. They were all eager to curry favor with his younger brother. “The nerve of some people! Messing with Adrian McLynn at his own wedding. She’ll get what’s coming to her.” “Hey, look at the ring on her hand. Doesn’t that look like the ‘Eternity’s Heart’ Maxwell paid a fortune for three years ago? How dare she!” “Everyone knows how protective Maxwell is of his wife. To show up here, flaunting a fake like that… she must have a death wish.” Adrian heard the murmurs, and his chest heaved with rage. His eyes looked like they were about to shoot fire. “Katherine, you’re a curse! I must have been blind to ever fall for you. And you’re still wearing that fake ring? Are you waiting for my brother to deal with you personally?!” He strode toward me and brought his foot down hard on my left hand, grinding his heel into my ring finger. A searing pain shot through my hand. My fingers felt like they were on fire, and a thousand tiny knives stabbed at my heart. When I tried to struggle, Nina shouted for the others to hold me down. I was pinned, unable to move. Icing obscured my vision, and I thrashed helplessly. Finally, I screamed, my voice raw with fury, “Maxwell is my husband!” Adrian roared with laughter, as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. He twisted his foot, the sharp point of his dress shoe threatening to snap my finger in two. “Still trying to pass yourself off as her? Just wait until my brother gets here. Let’s see what you have to say then! He adores my sister-in-law. You’re dead.” Seeing that he was completely unreachable, I felt a wave of despair. I fought against the hands holding me down, but they were too strong. I grit my teeth. When this was over, I wouldn’t let a single one of them off the hook. Adrian pressed down again. I heard a sickening crack. A pained grunt escaped my lips, and then, suddenly, the weight on me was gone. The crowd had released me. They were all scrambling to their feet, smoothing their clothes, their eyes fixed on the entrance. The ballroom doors swung open. And there, like a king entering his court, was Maxwell, holding our son.

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1 I died during a difficult childbirth. When I woke up, I had been reborn fifteen years into the future. On my first day back, I discovered that the precious daughter I had given my life for was being bullied by my husband’s so-called “one that got away,” and her child. And my husband? He had become one of the city’s most enigmatic figures, a recluse cloaked in incense and prayer, detached from the world. So, I grabbed a fistful of his hair, slapped him three times, hard, and asked him coldly, “Is this how you honor my memory?” I forced my eyes open, a dizzying sense of disorientation washing over me. I was standing on the sidewalk next to my old high school. A few pedestrians drifted by, some casting confused glances at my stunned figure. After ten minutes of staring at the sky, I had to accept the impossible truth. Not only had I been reborn, but I had also time-traveled fifteen years into the future. Pulling myself together, I borrowed a phone from a passerby and dialed the number of the man who, before my death, had been my husband: Warren Owen. After a few rings, the call connected. “Hello, who is this?” The familiar male voice, deep and resonant, was the same, yet different. It held a new weight, a magnetic gravity it hadn’t possessed before. A lump formed in my throat. My voice trembled as I spoke, on the verge of tears. “Warren, it’s Sloane. I know this is going to sound insane, but I think I might have… time-traveled? Anyway, I’m at our old high school. Can you just… come get me?” A long, heavy silence stretched from the other end of the line. Just as I was about to say something to break the tension, he let out a short, sharp laugh. It was laced with scorn. “I don’t know how you people got my number, but tell whoever put you up to this to try a more original approach next time. You think mimicking a voice is enough to get my attention? It’s pathetic. Disgusting.” His verbal assault struck me like a physical blow. My fingers went numb, and then a hot rage surged through me. Forgetting where I was, I snapped, my voice sharp and cold. “Warren Owen, have I spoiled you rotten? You can’t even recognize your own wife’s voice? Seems like you’ve wasted the last fifteen years.” The man on the other end choked. I pressed on, my voice dripping with fury. “I don’t care what hole you’ve been hiding in. You have thirty minutes to get your ass over here, or you can go dig your own grave.” I hung up, leaving the phone’s owner staring at me, mouth agape. I managed a weak, apologetic smile and handed it back. She took the phone, hesitating for a moment before asking, “Excuse me… were you talking to… Warren Owen? From Owen Industries? I’m sorry, it was on speaker, and the voice sounded like…” I blinked, then nodded, asking cautiously, “You know him?” She let out a breath of relief and waved a dismissive hand. “Who in this city doesn’t know the prince of the Owen dynasty?” Seeing my curiosity, and assuming I was a friend of his, her inner gossip columnist took over. “After Mrs. Owen died in childbirth, she left him with a daughter. Everyone thought he’d remarry soon, especially after his old flame returned to the country with such a huge splash. But instead, after building Owen Industries into an empire, he just… disappeared. Became a recluse. No one knows where he went, though he sometimes shows up at the annual company gala. But…” “But what?” I prompted. The woman leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, this is just a rumor, but they say he and his old flame are finally getting serious. People are betting he’ll come out of seclusion for her. I mean, she’s Evelyn Croft, the Oscar-winning actress. What man could resist that?” I raised an eyebrow, a cold smile touching my lips. “Looks like I’ve come all this way just in time for a wedding celebration.” Sensing the sudden chill in my demeanor, the woman quickly excused herself and hurried away. Two major shocks in a row. A wave of bitterness and grief washed over me. If Warren and his old flame were truly in love, I wouldn’t stand in their way. I had no right to expect him to mourn me for fifteen years. But my daughter… I hadn’t even met her yet. I had to know if she was okay. Knowing Warren, I had a good idea of where he would have sent her. The best private school in the city—our alma mater. I hailed a cab, and soon, the familiar, imposing gates of the school came into view. 2 Suddenly, a cacophony of jeers and laughter shattered the quiet afternoon. I looked up to see a group of preppy boys, a high-school gang in blazers and loafers, dragging a short-haired girl with a downcast gaze out of the school gates. It was classic bullying. I frowned. This was supposed to be the city’s most elite private academy. How could this be happening here? Something about the girl felt strangely familiar. I found myself following them, an inexplicable pull guiding my steps. The group ducked into a secluded alleyway. At their center stood a pretty, delicate-looking girl with long, flowing hair. But what she did next was anything but delicate. She brutally kicked the short-haired girl in the small of her back. The girl cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground. The long-haired girl sneered. “I heard Uncle Warren got you a huge birthday present. Why don’t you show everyone?” The girl on the ground clutched her backpack tighter, her body trembling. “Not this one!” The leader kicked her again, her pretty face twisted with a viciousness that didn’t belong on someone so young. She spat on the ground next to the girl’s head. “Don’t be a bitch, Sierra Owen.” The name struck my heart like a fist. Sierra. Warren and I had picked it out when I was pregnant. Whether it was a boy or a girl, the name would be Sierra. My gaze snapped to the girl on the ground. Even with her face half-hidden by her hair, I could see her bright, determined eyes. The features, so like my own… it could only be my daughter. Just then, the leader looked down at her cronies. “Grab her bag! And while you’re at it, strip her down. Let’s teach her a lesson about defying me.” My eyes narrowed. The last shred of my reason burned away in a blaze of pure fury. I wanted to tear them all limb from limb. So, Warren, I thought, my blood running cold, this is the life my daughter has been living. I grabbed a heavy wooden plank from a nearby dumpster, stormed into the alley, and shoved my way through the crowd, planting myself in front of Sierra. The long-haired girl jumped back, startled by my appearance. Then, as if triggered, she shrieked, “Who the hell are you? This has nothing to do with you! Get lost before we take you down too!” “Shut up,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “None of you are getting away with this.” A bunch of spoiled brats who hadn’t even been born when I’d single-handedly saved Warren from a team of professional kidnappers. This would be easy. 3 I cracked my knuckles. Luckily, my body still felt like it was in its twenties. Otherwise, this might have been a bit of a workout. A few minutes later, the prep-school thugs were all groaning on the grimy asphalt. I planted my foot on the long-haired girl’s face, grinding it into the pavement. It wasn’t enough. I kicked her hard in the stomach, twice, paying her back for the kicks she’d given my daughter. She coughed up a mouthful of blood and saliva, her body twitching. All her previous arrogance was gone. “My mom…” she sputtered, her words slurred. “My mom won’t let you get away with this! Uncle Warren won’t either!” “Oh? And who’s your mother?” I asked, taking a perverse pleasure in her misery. “Tell me. I’d love to know what kind of bitch raised a little monster like you.” “Her mom… her mom is Evelyn Croft.” Sierra, who had been trembling behind me, finally spoke a full sentence. She tugged timidly at the corner of my jacket. “Miss, you should go. If her mother finds out, you’ll be in danger…” That familiar name again. My heart sank. I was beginning to understand why my daughter’s life had become this. My heart ached. I pulled Sierra into my arms, stroking her soft hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I whispered. “Mommy’s here to protect you.” Sierra’s eyes widened. “Mommy…?” she whispered back. “Are you… my mommy?” A bond between a mother and child often needs no explanation. A single look is enough. In that instant, Sierra seemed to believe that this powerful, beautiful woman standing before her was, impossibly, her mother. I helped her up, and we started to walk out of the dark, damp alley. As we emerged into the light, we ran straight into an unwelcome figure. “Dad… what are you doing here?” Sierra asked timidly. Speak of the devil. I looked up. The man in front of me had barely changed. He was broader, more muscular, and carried himself with a quiet, mature confidence, but it was him. It was as if fifteen years had left nothing more than a speck of dust on him. “Warren,” I said coolly. “Long time no see.” The moment he saw me, his eyes went red. He reached out a trembling hand, as if to touch my face, then snatched it back as if burned. “Sloane…” he stammered, completely at a loss. “It’s really you. You came back.” I felt Sierra’s hand on my arm tighten, and my expression grew colder. Warren flinched under my glare, finally taking in the scene around him. The long-haired girl I’d beaten to a pulp saw him and began crawling toward him like he was her savior, weakly pleading for him to save her, to kill the “vicious woman” who had attacked her. Warren frowned down at her, his voice edged with annoyance. “You again?” I cut him off. “What’s the matter? Are you going to kill me to avenge your precious old flame?” His frown deepened. “What old flame? You know perfectly well I don’t have one.” “I don’t care if you do or not. Warren, you’ve disappointed me more than I can say.” I tried to walk around him, pulling Sierra with me. He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. His eyes were so red they looked like they might start bleeding. “Don’t you go!” he roared, his voice cracking. “You’re not leaving me again!”

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For the holidays, my mother booked me a flight to visit the underprivileged student she’d been sponsoring for years. It was supposed to be a nice gesture, a chance to spread some holiday cheer. The moment I stepped off the plane, the student and his friends ambushed me, stealing my phone, my wallet, and all my identification. Then they dragged me to a godforsaken compound in the middle of nowhere and threw me in a cell. I wept, begging him to let me go, pleading with him to remember my mother’s kindness. But he just laughed and told me I was my mother’s gift to him. A New Year’s present. I was trapped, hopeless. Then, a commotion outside my cell. The boss of the entire operation was making his New Year’s rounds, inspecting his territory. I caught a glimpse of him through the crack in the door. My heart stopped. It was my father. My father, who had been missing for five years, the man who had loved me more than life itself. 1 “Dad!” I screamed with every ounce of strength I had, just as the door was closing. But the student, whose name was Jack, was faster. He clamped a hand over my mouth while another one of his thugs kicked me square in the chest. A spray of blood erupted from my mouth. I felt something shatter inside me, a wave of agony that stole my breath and my voice. “What the hell are you screaming about?” the thug snarled. “Trying to claim you know the boss? You got a death wish?” My vision swam. Through the haze of pain, I saw my father’s back as he walked away, surrounded by his entourage, completely oblivious to my cry for help. “She’s got a strong set of lungs on her,” Jack said with a cruel smirk. “Let’s starve her for three days. That should quiet her down.” He crouched down, his face inches from mine. “My godmother told me her daughter was a top student, real pretty. Said men fall all over themselves for her. The perfect bait for a honey-trap scam.” I couldn’t process it. These words couldn’t have come from my mother. In the lonely, rain-swept nights after my father disappeared, she would hold me and tell me I was the only thing she had left in this world. How could she give away her only treasure? “No,” I rasped, my voice barely a whisper. “My mom would never do that.” Jack grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. “Open your damn eyes and see the truth.” His voice dropped to a possessive growl. “I’m a hell of a lot more important to your mother than you are. Every single night since your deadbeat dad vanished, I’m the one who’s kept her company.” He shoved his phone in my face, forcing me to read his chat history with my mother. She called him ‘baby.’ She asked when he was coming to spend the holidays with her. Jack had replied that he hadn’t met his quota yet; he was one body short and couldn’t leave. And my mother’s reply: Then I’ll just send you my daughter to make up the numbers. Jack’s response: You’re a wicked woman. I like that. I squeezed my eyes shut, a wave of despair washing over me. The woman who had called me her precious daughter, her everything, was this cold, ruthless monster. She had sold her own child, the daughter she’d raised for twenty years, just to please her lover. The betrayal was a pain far sharper than any physical blow. It coiled in my gut, a grief so profound I curled into a ball on the filthy floor and sobbed. My only hope of escape was my father. I had to find a way to see him. Jack was about to leave the reeking, blood-spattered room when I shot out a hand and grabbed his ankle. “Jack, please, just let me see your boss. I’m telling you the truth, I’m his daughter. His name is Silas. My name is Stella!” Jack and the two hulking guards at the door burst into mocking laughter. “You’re really desperate, aren’t you? Yeah, the boss’s name is Silas. But he doesn’t have a daughter. Never has.” How could I prove it? My mind raced. Then, I remembered. The scar on his chin. “My dad has a scar on his chin! He got it saving me when I almost fell off a ski lift!” One of the guards froze. He leaned in and whispered something in Jack’s ear. “Jack, the boss really does have a scar on his chin. You don’t think…?” “Lots of people have scars! I’ve got one!” Jack tilted his head back to show them, then his eyes narrowed with sudden rage. “Stella, are you playing games with us?” He stomped his foot down hard on my hand, grinding it into the concrete floor. The agony was excruciating, a white-hot scream tearing from my throat. 2 One of the guards joined in, kicking me repeatedly in the stomach. “You little bitch, trying to scare us?” “Let’s see how you like being played with!” He produced a long, wicked-looking needle from his pocket. He grabbed my other hand, the one pinned under Jack’s boot, and without hesitation, plunged the needle deep into the soft flesh under my fingernail. A piercing shriek echoed through the corridor. Instinct took over. I flailed, my free hand beating against Jack’s leg. “You dare to hit me? I’ll show you what happens when you fight back!” He lifted his other foot and brought it crashing down on my struggling hand. Jack was a big man, and his full weight came down on the fingers I used to play the piano. Crack. Crack. I heard the sickening snap of bones. The pain was blinding. My body convulsed, drenched in a cold sweat. I was losing consciousness. Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed on the heavy door. “Jack, stop! The boss is making his New Year’s rounds. He doesn’t want to see any blood today. He’s on his way here now.” The voice was… familiar. Jack and the guard tensed. “Jack, we can’t screw this up. The boss is ruthless. If we piss him off, we’re dead.” I could hear footsteps approaching from the hallway. It was my father. He was coming. This was my only chance. The primal urge to survive surged through me. As Jack and the guard opened the door to leave, I scrambled to my feet. I kicked Jack hard in the back, sending him stumbling forward, and scrambled through the gap he’d created. The moment I burst out of the room, the sunlight was so bright it was blinding. I squinted, my eyes barely able to open. Through the sliver of vision, I saw him. My father, not far away, shaking hands with one of his men, a glass of wine in his hand. I summoned every last bit of my strength and screamed, “Dad! Help me!” The next second, my voice was muffled. Jack, clutching his back, had scrambled to his feet. He clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me back into the dark, hopeless room. “You little shit! You think you can trick me?” “Looks like I didn’t hit you hard enough!” My hands were useless. I could only kick and buck, finally managing to head-butt him hard enough to make his nose bleed. “Dad!” I screamed again. I saw my father turn, his head tilting as if he’d heard something. And then, a heavy object crashed against the back of my head. The world went black. When I woke up, every inch of my body was a landscape of pain. I was covered in a warm, sticky film of my own blood. I was back in the cell. Jack and the guards were gone, probably outside waiting for my father. “Dad!” I cried out, my voice raw. “Come save me! It’s Stella!” I used my elbows to drag myself across the floor to the door and started kicking it with my feet. My hands were broken, useless. But the sound of my foot hitting the metal door was loud, thunderous. He would have to hear it. And he did. The next moment, I heard his voice, a voice I hadn’t heard in five long years, from just outside the door. “What’s going on? Who’s that yelling for their dad?” “It’s nothing, boss,” Jack’s voice answered smoothly. “The new ones are always like this. Crying for their mommy and daddy.” “This one’s just particularly unruly. See? She broke my nose. Went against your ‘no blood’ rule for the new year.” “You go on and greet the others, boss. I’ll go shut her up.” The door flew open, slamming into me and knocking me to the ground. “I told you to shut your goddamn mouth!” Jack dragged me by the hair to a small table in the center of the room. The guard pried my mouth open and forced me to bite down on the corner of the table. Then, the guard’s thick, powerful hand slammed down on the back of my head. Again and again. Blood filled my mouth, dammed up by the table’s edge. I felt my teeth crack, and I swallowed the broken pieces. I couldn’t make a sound anymore, my tongue felt like it had been shredded. 3 Jack spat on my face. “There. Nice and quiet now.” I lay on the floor, a broken, bleeding mess, only able to make soft, whimpering sounds of agony. I couldn’t say his name anymore. “Tie her up. Put a bag over her head. I’m sick of looking at her face.” Just as they finished binding my hands and feet and pulling a black hood over my head, my father’s voice filled the doorway again. “I thought I said no blood on New Year’s. What is all this?” Dad! It’s me! It’s your Stella! But I couldn’t speak. I could only writhe on the floor like a worm as my blood soaked through the hood and dripped onto the concrete. I was so close. So close to the father I had missed for five agonizing years. “It’s the new year,” my father said, his voice cold. “I don’t want to have to kill anyone today. You two, watch yourselves. If I see something like this again, there will be consequences.” “Yes, yes, of course, boss.” He was leaving. Again. We were so close, yet a world apart. I was truly going to die here. “What’s wrong with you two?” the familiar voice from before spoke again. “Didn’t I tell you to stop?” Jack, furious, kicked me again in the stomach. I could only curl into a ball, whimpering. “Sir,” Jack said, his voice full of false deference. “This woman is insane. She keeps insisting the boss is her father.” “I’ve been in this compound for years. The boss has never even had a woman, let alone a grown daughter! She’s just trying to escape.” The man’s voice sharpened with alarm. “Take the hood off her. Now!” Jack hesitated, then ripped the black cloth from my head. “You goddamn idiot!” The man roared, his voice filled with fury. He kicked Jack so hard in the stomach that he crumpled to the floor, unable to get up. “She is the boss’s daughter! That’s Stella!” My vision was a blur of blood and tears. I forced my eyes open, trying to focus on the man standing before me. And my dead heart lurched back to life. It was my father’s best friend. My Uncle John. He had known me since I was a child. He would save me. He had to. A sob broke from my throat. Uncle John, please, help me. But the next words out of his mouth shattered my last sliver of hope. “Shave her head. Now. We can’t let the boss recognize her.” His voice was cold, pragmatic. “If he does, everything we’ve built for years will be destroyed.” Without a word, Jack grabbed a pair of clippers and began shearing off my hair. Uncle John crouched in front of me, studying my face intently. “It’s not enough. You can still tell it’s her. You’ll have to cut up her face.” “But sir,” Jack protested, “we were going to use her for the honey trap.” “Is your life more important, or the money?” John snarled. “Do as I say!” Jack took a blade and began to carve into my face. The sharp steel bit deep into my skin, and hot blood streamed down my ruined cheeks. I was unrecognizable, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. “That should do it,” John said. Then, as if struck by a thought, he grabbed my ankle. His eyes fell on the silver locket tied with a red string. It was a gift from my father on my twelfth birthday. A good luck charm. In the center, he had carved a single star. It was his blessing, his wish that I would live a life of peace and happiness. “Are you trying to get us all killed?” John hissed. “Why didn’t you get rid of this?” He ripped the locket from my ankle and tossed it to a guard. “Be smart about it. Don’t just throw it away in the compound. If the boss finds it, he’ll have your head.” “Yes, sir!” But the guard had barely taken five steps when a chilling voice stopped him in his tracks.

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At eight months pregnant, my husband forced me to care for his childhood sweetheart, Serena, after her miscarriage. When she “accidentally” spilled hot soup on herself and blamed me, he had his men tie me up and shove me into an industrial steamer. “How dare you use our child as a shield to hurt Serena?” he snarled. “You’ll learn a lesson you won’t forget.” I begged him to think of our baby, promising never to compete with Serena again. He sneered. “A little stress makes a stronger child. And don’t worry—I won’t divorce you. I’ll just make you repay Serena’s pain a thousandfold.” He cranked the heat to maximum. The terror sent me into labor. My baby cried inside the steamer, but he thought it was a trick. “Lock it,” he ordered. “No one opens this without my command.” That evening, spoon-feeding Serena, he frowned. “Hasn’t Autumn learned? Who’ll cook for you if she keeps this up?” To his men: “Tell her I’ll spare her—if she kneels, apologizes, and cooks a week’s meals.” The staff exchanged glances. No one spoke. 1 “Mr. Astor… your wife… I don’t think she’s holding on. She hasn’t made a sound for over an hour. We’ve been calling to her, but there’s no response.” “What are you afraid of?” Matthew said dismissively. “I know her better than any of you. She’s a master of theatrics. She knows the baby trick didn’t work, so now she’s playing dead. She won’t learn unless she’s suffered properly. Then she’ll think twice before hurting my Serena again.” The subordinate wiped sweat from his brow, his face pale. “But, sir… we really did hear a baby crying earlier. It only lasted for a few seconds.” “A recording, obviously.” Matthew waved his hand, cutting off any further argument. “Look, it’s a smart appliance. It has an automatic shutoff. It’s designed to detect a person inside and power down. She’s just being stuffy for a bit. She’s not that fragile.” The man fell silent, retreating with a haunted look in his eyes. Matthew had dinner brought up to the master bedroom. There, in our room, Serena was lounging on our bed, wearing my pajamas, smiling sweetly at her phone. “What’s so amusing, Serena?” Matthew’s mood lifted seeing her smile. He sat beside her, tilting her chin up to feed her a mouthful of chicken soup. “You need to get your strength back. That’s all that matters to me.” Serena’s smile faltered for a second before she threw herself into his arms, tears welling up. “My friends… they saw how you treated me and told me to leave you. But then I remember how good you used to be to me, and I just can’t… That’s why I was smiling like an idiot.” Her voice broke with a sob. “Matthew, it’s all my fault. I couldn’t control my feelings for you. That night… when you were drugged… I just wanted to give myself to you, then leave quietly with our baby, never bothering you again, but…” She choked back a sob. “But I lost the baby. If I lose you too, I don’t think I can go on.” She buried her face in his chest. “I know I’m being selfish. I’ll accept any punishment Autumn wants to give me. This little burn is nothing. She could stab me with a knife, and I’d let her! Just please… don’t make me leave you.” Matthew’s heart shattered. He held her tight, gently blowing on the tiny, nail-sized red mark on her thigh. “Serena, you’re too kind. It’s because you love me so much, so humbly, that a venomous shrew like Autumn dares to treat you this way. You have no idea how it broke my heart to see you cry.” He stroked her hair. “You’ve given me everything. You’ve saved me time and time again. You are my savior and my love. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not even my own wife, carrying my child. She doesn’t have the right to lay a single finger on you.” A flicker of something unreadable crossed Serena’s face. Then, blushing, she squirmed. “Matthew… actually, the burn… it’s not just here. There are other places… I was too embarrassed to let the doctor see.” Desire flared in Matthew’s eyes. He pushed her back onto the bed. “Then let me be your doctor. Let me see just how red my Serena is…” And so, Serena, wearing the matching silk pajamas Matthew had designed for me as a wedding gift, made love to my husband on the bedsheets I had so carefully chosen. At the peak of their passion, Matthew grabbed her leg, and her flailing foot knocked over the picture frame on my bedside table. It was a photo a stranger had taken of us right after we’d signed our marriage license, a snapshot of our happiness. Now, the shattered glass split our faces apart. A broken mirror can’t be made whole. How foolish I’d been to fantasize, just a few months ago, that the birth of our child might bring him back to me. There was no chance of that now. Because I was already dead. It turns out, even ghosts can feel their hearts break. I listened to Serena coo about giving him another baby, and a fresh wave of agony washed over my spectral form. Matthew had been right about one thing. In that crucible of pain, my labor was terrifyingly fast. I had wished for the baby to stay inside me just a little longer, just a moment more, so I could absorb the searing heat for him, to buy him a chance at life. But my son was too good, too compliant. He was born in minutes. With my last ounce of strength, I managed to push the lid of the steamer open a crack. I begged the guards outside. “My baby is born! He’s not crying, he’s barely breathing! Please, have mercy, just get my baby out of here! Take him to a hospital!” They stared at me in horror, their hands moving toward the off switch. But then, Serena’s voice drifted from outside the cafeteria doors. “Matthew, how could she use the baby’s life to manipulate you like that? Does she have any idea her morbid words could become a self-fulfilling prophecy?” Her voice rose in pitch. “She’s so lucky, getting pregnant with your child, carrying it to term… and she doesn’t appreciate it at all. She’s cursing her own baby.” She sobbed into his chest. “She knows how desperately I wanted a child. Is she saying this just to hurt me? To rub salt in my wounds?” Seeing Serena fall apart in his arms, Matthew’s fury reignited. “It seems my punishment wasn’t severe enough! You still have the strength to use our child to torment Serena!” “Get me that iron chain! Lock it down! Make sure she can’t scream another word!” His men hesitated. Enraged, Matthew snatched the chain himself and wound it tightly around the steamer, sealing it shut. For a fleeting moment, he thought he heard the faint, kitten-like cry of an infant from within. He paused, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. But then Serena whispered, “Autumn was always so good at impressions. It reminds me… that night was supposed to be our first time, Matthew. But the next day, she put on a fake voice, pretended to be me, and tricked you into thinking it was her…” Matthew’s face contorted with a disgust so profound it was almost inhuman. “All of you, get out,” he commanded. “Get out before that bitch tricks you into letting her go.” “When Serena’s leg stops hurting, I’ll let her out myself.” He chased all the employees away, leaving me to my screams inside the scalding metal coffin, and locked the cafeteria doors behind him. My baby… he only cried for a few moments. Then, in my arms, his tiny body slowly grew stiff, his skin losing its warmth. I wept until I had no voice left. My body began to break down, my flesh dissolving in the steam and water. At that very moment, Matthew, wanting to make up for the six months Serena had been pregnant and alone, decided to propose. Even without a marriage certificate, he would give her the honor of being his wife. While my body was turning into an unrecognizable slurry, he bought out the top ten trending spots on social media and rented digital billboards in every major city, all of them scrolling his vows of eternal love for Serena. As I took my last breath, he was in a helicopter, showering an entire city with rose petals, descending from the sky to propose to her in a live-streamed spectacle for millions to see. And now, as a ghost, I watched them spend their wedding night in my former bed. Matthew held her tenderly. “I’m sorry, Serena. Autumn tricked me. She claimed she was the one who saved me that night I was drugged. I only married her out of a sense of responsibility. But we are married, and I couldn’t just divorce her and be the kind of man who abandons his duty.” He kissed her forehead. “But don’t worry. She owes you too much. After this, she’ll have learned her lesson. She’ll be docile. She won’t interfere with our life anymore. You just focus on getting better and having our baby. The three of us, plus Autumn and her child… the five of us can live together happily.” A flash of disbelief crossed Serena’s eyes. “What?” “Don’t worry,” he soothed. “Even though she’s my wife, in public, I’m yours. Just think of her as a live-in nanny to cook and clean, and our child will have a playmate.” Hearing this, a look of venomous cunning crossed Serena’s face. She forced a smile. “Okay. Whatever you say. I’ll try to get along with her.” I could only laugh. A bitter, soundless laugh. Even now, he wouldn’t let me go. He actually believed I would tolerate his affair, that I would debase myself to become their maid. I took a deep, spectral breath, watching my invisible tears fall. I knew why he was so certain. I knew why he thought he could hurt me this badly and I would never leave. Because for so long, I had endured everything in silence. A month ago, Matthew’s first love, Serena, had suddenly collapsed on our doorstep. I rushed her to the hospital. But when she woke up, she clung to Matthew, weeping, accusing me of pushing her down the stairs and causing her to miscarry. I tried to explain, to tell him I had only found her and brought her here. Matthew just stared at me with cold, dead eyes. When he wouldn’t listen, I pulled out her medical records to show him—the miscarriage had happened before I even found her. But the moment Serena started crying again, he slapped me so hard I fell to the floor. “Enough! You’ve gone too far! Serena has already forgiven you, why can’t you just admit what you did?!” He had his bodyguards take me home and lock me in my room to “reflect on my actions.” I was naive. I thought if I just waited, his anger would cool, and he would listen to reason. But after two weeks of confinement, the next time I saw him, he looked at me with the pure, unadulterated hatred one reserves for an enemy. At the time, I didn’t understand why. I clung to the hope that once our baby was born, he would change his mind. Now, I finally understood. It was all because of what happened a year ago. A year ago, Matthew’s company was on the brink of collapse. And at that exact moment, Serena had cleaned out his accounts and vanished without a word. Devastated by the double blow, Matthew had become a recluse, locking himself in his room. Frantic, I did everything I could. I chased down leads, took clients out, got blackout drunk night after night until I finally landed a deal big enough to save the company. I burst into his house, got on my knees, and begged him to remember the brilliant, ambitious man he used to be, to give himself one more chance. He was moved. He came with me. We closed the deal. But that night, the client’s mistress took a liking to Matthew. She drugged his drink, planning a one-night stand. I was terrified the client would find out and cancel the deal, but my heart broke seeing Matthew writhing in agony. I lied, claiming we were a couple, and got us a room. He was delirious, pulling me onto the bed with him. We spent the night together. When I woke up, I panicked. I was afraid he wouldn’t be able to handle his business partner becoming his bed partner. Afraid he would push me away. So, I ran. Three months later, I found out I was pregnant. Shyly, nervously, I confessed everything to him. He looked at me with a complicated expression, silent for so long I was sure he was going to reject me. Then, he let out a long breath and, with a small smile, pulled me into his arms. “Autumn,” he’d said. “Maybe you’re the angel heaven sent to save me, to help me start a new life.” I cried and I laughed. Laughed and cried. Crying for how pathetic I was. Laughing at how tragic it all was. And that night, during my two weeks of confinement, had been twisted by Serena into this monstrous lie. She claimed she was the one who had slept with him, then left with his child, and that I was the wicked usurper, passing off a bastard as his. No wonder he looked at me with such revulsion.

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I bought my family’s lives with my divorce. Three souls—my parents and my brother—spared from damnation in exchange for my freedom from the Lord of the Underworld. I thought we’d live out our days in peace. I was wrong. That’s when the real daughter came home. Sylvia, a gifted psychic, declared that our family’s fortune depended on one thing: a posthumous wedding between me and the ancient spirit, Old Man Hemlock. My parents and brother, mesmerized by her promises, turned on me. They performed a vicious ritual, transforming my living body into a human marionette. With a dowry of trillions in soul coins and an escort of a thousand minor ghosts, they shipped me off to the Underworld. They just never expected who would be officiating the ceremony. My ex-husband, the Lord of the Underworld himself. 1 “Don’t be dramatic, Chloe. Don’t you see this is for the best? Marrying you off to Old Man Hemlock is the only way the family can secure its place in the Capital!” “Sylvia is the Void Master’s prized apprentice. You’ve seen her powers. We can’t ignore her vision.” “Old Man Hemlock is an influential figure down there, a gatekeeper of mortal wealth. He specifically requested you, Chloe, with your unique, cold-yin aura. Our hands are tied.” My parents and brother had me bound to a crucifix. My body was a canvas for Sylvia’s dark art, plastered with sigils she’d painted on cursed parchment. Then, following her direction, they inserted a needle and pumped a necrotic mark directly into my heart. Finally, they slit the arteries in my wrists and ankles, draining my veins dry. For forty-nine days, I was left to air-dry, my body slowly hardening, my skin turning taut and pale like treated leather. I was becoming a puppet. My lips were cracked and dry, but I fought, my voice a ragged whisper. “You’re being scammed. Old Man Hemlock is nothing. He’s just a bootlicker for one of the Judge’s clerks, a sycophant with no real power.” My previous marriage to Nyx, the Lord of the Underworld, had meant a brief residency in his realm. I’d never met this Hemlock, but I’d heard the whispers. He was once a weasel, a conniving spirit whose only talent was flattery. I even remembered the Judge complaining about him, unable to pin him down for any real offense, forced to tolerate his presence. Tying the family’s fate to a creature like that was a death sentence. My mother sighed, her eyes a venomous mix of pity and contempt. “We invested so much in you, Chloe. We hoped you’d climb the social ladder, marry into a powerful family, and lift us all up. But you were a disappointment. If it weren’t for Sylvia arranging this match, our family would be destined for ruin.” I shook my head, the movement stiff and jarring. I wanted to scream that Sylvia was the source of their ruin. Her dabbling in forbidden arts had upset the cosmic balance, and to save her own skin, she’d redirected the karmic backlash onto her closest kin. It was I who had defied the Underworld’s laws, trading my marriage and my future with Nyx to save their ungrateful lives. But before I could speak, Sylvia pierced my lips with a needle and red thread, sewing them shut. Pain, white-hot and absolute, shot through me. Tears blurred my vision. She chanted a quick, sharp incantation, and the red thread vanished, leaving my lips sealed as if they had never been parted. No matter how hard I tried, no sound could escape. And then, my mouth moved, but the words weren’t mine. “Mom, Dad, brother… for the future of our family, I am willing to marry Old Man Hemlock. Don’t worry about me. Just focus on building your wealth and living the good life you deserve!” My own eyes widened in horror. For a moment, my family looked just as stunned. Sylvia, standing beside me, simply smirked. “Old Man Hemlock is a man of tradition. He dislikes taking a bride by force. He wants a wife who will bring him happiness,” she explained, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “So, I’m sorry, sister. The role of the marionette suits you perfectly.” She then turned to my family. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure my sister is a most willing and obedient wife. Old Man Hemlock will be very, very comfortable.” Relief washed over their faces. My father couldn’t stop praising Sylvia’s brilliance. My brother beamed, proud to have such a powerful true sister. And my mother took Sylvia’s hands, her eyes filled with adoration. “You’ve worked so hard all these years, learning these difficult arts. Once we’re established, once we’re truly wealthy, we’ll make it all up to you.” Sylvia’s response was a masterclass in feigned humility. “As long as I can be with you, my family, I would do anything.” 2 Sylvia’s goal in turning me into a marionette was simple: total control. She’d already stolen my voice. Now, she was coming for my body. One by one, she pressed silver needles into my limbs. They slid beneath my skin, leaving no mark, drawing no blood. They navigated my desiccated veins, pierced my marrow, and latched onto my nerve endings. The agony was a silent scream that threatened to shatter my soul. And then, it was over. A moment ago, I was a heap on the floor. Now, with a flick of Sylvia’s fingers, I rose to my feet. My expression was serene, my posture graceful. I faced my family not with agony, but with the joyful anticipation of a bride-to-be. “Mom, Dad, brother… thank you for raising me these twenty years. I will repay your kindness. I promise I won’t be a burden to you anymore.” No matter how fiercely my mind rebelled, my body was no longer my own. Seeing me so docile, my family was overjoyed. “Chloe, Old Man Hemlock will be good to you,” my father said with a reassuring nod. “He’s an older man; he’ll know how to dote on you. Just be sure to serve him well,” my mother added. “It’s time for you to grow up, Chloe,” my brother chimed in. “When you get to his estate, don’t be willful.” Sylvia’s fingers danced in the air, and I responded to their silent commands. “Yes. Chloe will be good.” Under Sylvia’s direction, my brother procured my dowry: trillions in soul coins. My parents commissioned the finest artisan of paper effigies, who worked for seven days and seven nights to craft a magnificent eight-bearer palanquin and a bridal gown of fiery red paper. Sylvia, for her part, used her psychic abilities to summon an entourage of a thousand minor spirits to escort me to my doom. April 4th. A day of remembrance for the living, but a most auspicious time in the Underworld, when the gates between realms swing wide open. With Sylvia at my side, I was placed in the palanquin. The procession began, a thousand spirits hauling chests overflowing with soul coins, a macabre parade marching toward the path to the Underworld. The air filled with the discordant wail of horns and the clash of gongs. It was a ghastly celebration. My brother, usually so stingy, had shed his miserly ways. He walked alongside, handing out red envelopes of spirit money to any ghouls or specters we passed, buying good fortune. My parents waved goodbye from the threshold. I couldn’t fight, I couldn’t scream. The only sign of my dissent was the silent tears that streamed down my face. Sylvia noticed and dabbed at them with a handkerchief. “What’s there to cry about?” she cooed. “Your very essence, that cold-yin aura of yours, destines you for a spirit marriage. Old Man Hemlock is a fine catch, all things considered. You’re going to a life of comfort. Left to your own devices, a body like yours would eventually be devoured by some malevolent entity. Really, you should be thanking me for finding you such a perfect match.” Old Man Hemlock. The spirit of a wretched weasel. Not only was his appearance said to be grotesque, but he was rumored to have a penchant for tormenting female ghosts. If I had known this was my fate, I never would have divorced Nyx. Nyx… for all his faults, at least he was devastatingly handsome. To save my family, I had defied the Lord of the Underworld himself. What a fool I’d been. I should have listened to Nyx and let these vipers face their damnation. But it was too late for regrets. “Who dares block the path?” a familiar voice boomed from ahead. My heart seized. Through the swaying curtains of the palanquin, I saw the figure barring our way. Not a man. A ghost. And not just any ghost. It was Gabriel, Nyx’s most trusted right hand, the Judge of the Dead. 3 “Your Excellency! Judge Gabriel!” Sylvia exclaimed, her composure instantly shifting to one of deep reverence. She hurried forward. “My sister’s wedding procession. We meant no offense.” She quickly ordered the spirits to move the palanquin to the side. “Please, Your Excellency, after you.” Gabriel’s brow furrowed slightly. “A bride for the Underworld?” he asked, his voice low and resonant. Sylvia nodded eagerly. “Indeed. A match arranged by a medium in the mortal realm for Old Man Hemlock.” Gabriel’s expression darkened. “A ghost marriage? It’s been years since one of those was sanctioned… Are you certain the bride in that palanquin is a willing participant?” The custom of ghost marriages was ancient, but it had all but ceased three years ago. After his divorce, Lord Nyx had become volatile and unpredictable, and he’d refused to officiate any new unions. The few that had taken place were illicit, secret affairs, conducted far from his sight. But Sylvia was prepared. She produced a black, official-looking document—a marriage certificate, already bearing the Lord of the Underworld’s seal. “As you can see, Your Excellency, the certificate is in order. It only needs the bride and groom’s signatures after the ceremony.” Gabriel took the dark booklet, his eyes narrowing as he read it. “So, it’s that old weasel Hemlock.” Somehow, the pathetic creature had managed to sweet-talk Nyx into granting him a sanctioned certificate. It was baffling. Gabriel handed the document back to Sylvia with a faint, dismissive sniff. “If the Lord himself has approved it, it’s not my place to delay the happy couple. Proceed.” He stepped back, clearing a path on the spectral bridge. A triumphant smile flashed across Sylvia’s face. She thanked the Judge profusely before leading the procession forward across the bridge. Trapped inside the palanquin, I struggled with all my might to make a sound, any sound, to alert Gabriel to my presence. Gabriel, it’s me! Don’t you remember? I’m the former Lady of the Underworld! Gabriel, three years ago, when you broke Lord Nyx’s favorite chalice, I took the blame for you. Don’t you remember? But no matter how frantically I screamed in my mind, my lips remained sealed, my body still. Just as the palanquin was about to pass him, a chilling voice cut through the air, emanating from just behind the Judge. “Wait.” That voice… it struck my heart like a bolt of lightning. Instantly, the entire bridge erupted in a bloom of blood-red spider lilies, their petals unfurling from the spectral mist. The spirit bearers shivered, a wave of primal fear that I felt in my own petrified core. I suddenly remembered that Nyx was utterly incapable of managing his own affairs. Wherever he went, someone had to be at his side. That person used to be me. After our divorce, someone else must have taken my place. Looking at the sea of spider lilies, a flower he grew only for me, I knew who it had to be. His most loyal servant, Judge Gabriel. “Lord Nyx! You’re here as well!” Sylvia’s voice was a choked gasp of shock. Every spirit in the procession, a thousand strong, dropped to their knees, prostrating themselves. The palanquin, abandoned, crashed onto the bed of crimson flowers. “We did not mean to disturb you, my Lord! We beg your forgiveness!” Sylvia bowed her head, yanking my brother down to his knees beside her. My brother, his face a mask of confusion, stared at the impossibly handsome man before him. There was a flicker of familiarity, but he couldn’t place him. Seeing Sylvia’s terror, however, he knew to be cautious. Nyx’s eyes, long and sharp, scanned the scene with an air of bored amusement. “It’s 2025. Are we still doing ghost marriages with this level of tack? This palanquin looks like something out of a bad horror movie.” Gabriel cleared his throat. “A result of mortals watching too many period dramas, I suspect.” Nyx’s gaze drifted lazily until he flicked a finger. The black marriage certificate flew from Sylvia’s hand and into his. He toyed with it for a moment. “Three years,” he mused. “It’s been too quiet around here. Since I’m the one who issued this license, I might as well witness the ceremony. And let it be known: the moratorium is over. Tell all those who have been waiting to get their unions certified.” Gabriel’s eyes widened. “My Lord, you’re sanctioning ghost marriages again?” Nyx scoffed. “If I don’t, the entire order of this realm will fall into chaos.” Gabriel hesitated, then asked quietly, “My Lord… have you moved on?” Nyx’s brow snapped into a frown, and he ignored the question completely. Gabriel, realizing his misstep, fell silent. “Let’s go,” Nyx declared, striding forward. “I could use a drink.” He led the way, with Gabriel a step behind. The spirit bearers scrambled to lift the palanquin, following Sylvia and my brother as they hurried to keep pace. 4 Sylvia, ever the schemer, had already sent a spirit ahead to warn Old Man Hemlock of Nyx’s impending arrival. The procession resumed its clamorous, grotesque celebration. As for me, I stared out at the endless carpet of spider lilies, my vision blurring with unshed tears. Three years ago, because I loved them, Nyx had magically bonded the seeds to his very being. Ever since, wherever the Lord of the Underworld walked, spider lilies bloomed in his wake. “This flower is so morbid,” he’d complained, even as he wove the spell. “Obsessed with death. What’s to like?” I’d sniffed. “I just like them. You wouldn’t understand my sorrow.” He’d pulled me into his arms. “Sorrow? I give you the finest things in this realm. What sorrow could you possibly have?” I miss my home, I’d told him. The Underworld is your home now, he’d replied. And for a time, I had tried. I had tried to make this place my home, to make him my home. But fate, it seemed, had other plans. Soon, the procession arrived at the gates of Old Man Hemlock’s estate. He stood there waiting, a large red flower pinned to his chest, his face stretched into a wide, toothy grin. The moment he saw Nyx, his smile froze. He and his entire staff of ghost servants dropped to their knees. “All hail the eternal Lord Nyx!” Nyx ignored him completely, striding into the main courtyard and settling into the seat of honor. Gabriel followed, issuing a crisp order. “Get on with the ceremony. The Lord is thirsty.” Hemlock scrambled to his feet, ordering servants to bring wine. With Nyx present, the traditional rituals—carrying the bride over a brazier of coals—were forgotten. He just wanted to get this over with and appease the Lord. He hissed at Sylvia to lead me inside to the bridal chamber. My brother, however, was looking displeased. “This Hemlock grovels before a mere Judge,” he muttered to Sylvia. “Is he really powerful enough to help our family?” Sylvia shot him a sharp look. “Are you having second thoughts about marrying Chloe off, brother?” He shook his head. “No, I was just thinking… wouldn’t it have been better to marry her to the Judge? Or better yet, this Lord Nyx? Imagine the power our family would have then!” Sylvia sneered. “Take a good look at our dear sister, brother. Do you honestly think a man like Lord Nyx would even glance her way?” He grumbled under his breath. “Besides,” she added, “the Lord of the Underworld already has a wife.” “A wife? But I heard they divorced years ago.” “They did,” Sylvia confirmed. “But everyone in the Underworld knows he’s never taken another. He’s waiting for her to come back.” My brother chuckled. “Huh. The great Lord is a romantic.” Listening to them, a wave of despair washed over me. Nyx would never wait for me. He hated me. Hidden beneath a red silk veil, I allowed Sylvia to lead me into the courtyard. To appease Nyx, Hemlock wanted to skip straight to the consummation, ordering Sylvia to take me directly to the bridal chamber. But she couldn’t move me. I planted my feet beside Old Man Hemlock, fighting with every ounce of my will against the silver threads that controlled me. I knew, with chilling certainty, that if I didn’t get help now, I would be lost forever. Sylvia’s fingers twitched, her voice a strained whisper. “Sister, what are you doing? We’re going to the bridal chamber!” I clenched my teeth, my whole body trembling with the effort of resisting her. She began muttering incantations, her power pulling against my own desperate struggle. The two forces tore at me, a silent, agonizing war within my own skin. Sweat beaded on my brow, and dark, bruise-like blotches began to appear on my neck. After a minute that felt like an eternity, I lost. My body betrayed me, my feet beginning to move in the direction of the chamber. At the main table, a servant presented wine to Hemlock, who personally carried a cup to Nyx. Nyx sipped it, his expression flat. “This bride of yours, Hemlock. What’s her story?” Hemlock, sweating, offered a half-truth. “A fated connection from the mortal realm, my Lord. A love match, I assure you.” Nyx had long ago forbidden forced ghost marriages. Hemlock wouldn’t dare tell the truth. “Is that so? Then let’s see the license signed before any… festivities… commence.” Hemlock froze. Gabriel smirked coldly. “What’s the matter? Afraid the bride won’t sign?” The old weasel looked panicked until Sylvia shot him a reassuring glance. She took the marriage certificate and a pen, holding them out to me. “Sister, sign your name.” Nyx’s sharp, cat-like eyes were fixed on me. Driven by the silver threads, my hand began to write. The first part of the name appeared. Sy— Nyx raised an eyebrow. “Her name is Sylvia…” My hand continued to move. The rest of the name flowed onto the page. 5 Sylvia. The name on the certificate was Sylvia. “How utterly, painfully common,” Nyx murmured, a hint of disdain in his voice. My eyes burned with tears. How could it be her name? “Why did it write your name?” my brother whispered urgently to Sylvia. She pursed her lips. “I’ll explain later.” He couldn’t possibly know that Sylvia was the one Hemlock had originally wanted. I was just the scapegoat. After Hemlock scrawled his own name on the document, Nyx pressed the unique seal of the Underworld onto it, making the union official. “Thank you, my Lord! All hail the eternal Lord Nyx!” Hemlock and his followers fell to their knees once more. “The marriage is witnessed. You may attend to your… duties.” Nyx placed his cup on the table and rose to leave. “I’m tired.” As he passed me, he paused, his gaze sweeping over my veiled form. Gabriel sighed softly. “She does have a slight resemblance to the former Lady… My Lord, perhaps you’d like to see the bride’s face?” Nyx scoffed. “A passing resemblance is all. Any mortal woman who would willingly marry that weasel holds no interest for me.” “As you say,” Gabriel replied, shaking his head. But as they took a few steps toward the gate, Nyx stopped dead. He turned his head, his eyes landing on my brother, who stood beside Sylvia. “You,” Nyx said, his voice low. “I’ve seen you somewhere before.” My brother swallowed hard, frozen. Sylvia, quick-witted as ever, jumped in. “This is my brother, my Lord. He has a rather common face… You honor him with your notice.” Nyx’s brow furrowed. “Her brother?” A look of dawning horror crossed Gabriel’s face as he, too, seemed to remember something. With a flick of Nyx’s eyes, a gust of wind snatched the red veil from my head, sending it fluttering down to land on the spider lilies. My face, streaked with tears and etched with despair, was revealed to all. “Chloe!” The name was a raw cry torn from his throat. Gabriel stared, his eyes wide. “My Lady!” The crowd murmured in confusion, but Nyx was already moving, appearing before me in a blur of motion, his eyes glowing like embers. “When,” he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper, “did you change your name?” I wanted to explain, to tell him everything, but I couldn’t. I could only let more tears fall, praying he would see that something was terribly wrong. “We had an agreement,” he hissed. “We were never to see each other again in this life. What is the meaning of this?” He demanded an answer I couldn’t give. More accurately, an answer Sylvia couldn’t give. She was too stunned, too slow to react to the catastrophic turn of events. “Oh, that’s right. I almost forgot,” he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “Today is your wedding day. Your wedding to this… weasel. After throwing me away without a second thought, you choose to marry this thing?” He gritted his teeth, his crimson eyes burning with a rage so intense it felt like it could incinerate my very soul. “Have you lost your mind, or have you just gone blind?” My body trembled, but it was Sylvia’s fear I was feeling. My lips moved, forming her terrified words. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, my Lord…” Nyx’s hand shot out, his icy fingers closing around my throat. “You don’t know, or you’re pretending not to know? Are you truly going to marry this pathetic creature today?”

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