In my ninth life, after Prince William killed me again, he summoned my soul with incense. He did it because I’d died for him eight times before—but this time, he wanted me to die wearing his beloved consort’s face. “Seraphina,” he murmured, “you can be reborn. It’s not true death. Haven’t you always wanted to go home? I promise, this is the last time. After this, we’ll return to the village and live together.” Tearful, I nodded. But later, as I waited for the face-swapping ritual, I overheard him speaking to a guard: “My lord, you promised the princess we’d return to her village—yet you had me slaughter everyone there. She cherishes that place. Is this wise?” William’s shadowed face was unreadable. “Those villagers refused Elara their beauty rituals. She killed them in anger, and I cleaned up the mess.” He sighed. “Seraphina lost a few relatives. I’ll make it up next life.” But, William, my love… this is my last life. For us, there is no next time. 1 “…While the villagers have been exterminated, the valley is filled with rare and valuable flora. It seems a waste to burn it all,” the guard said, still kneeling. The blood on his sword was still wet, dripping onto the stone floor and creating a crimson path that snaked to William’s feet. In this life, William was the Prince Regent, a man of immense power. He lounged in his carved throne-like chair, his dark hair cascading over his shoulders. His handsome, almost feminine eyes, usually so full of charm, were now pools of icy indifference. He toyed with my soul-incense, a small, carved stick that bound my spirit to the mortal plane, as if listening to a trivial report. He didn’t even look up. “The plants are unimportant. Every person in that village possessed a soul-incense.” His voice was smooth, detached. “As long as the incense exists, they can be reincarnated, generation after generation.” “Elara was concerned the face-swapping ritual would damage her skin. She’d heard of their legendary beauty rituals. But they not only refused her, they insulted her. In a fit of rage, she slaughtered them.” He finally looked at the guard. “But that clan can use their soul-incense to be reborn. They could seek revenge on Elara’s descendants. I cannot allow her future to be threatened.” The guard, still in his blood-soaked tunic, flinched. “But my lord, you promised the princess you would return to the village with her soon. When that time comes…” William smiled, a chilling, humorless expression. “There will be no ‘that time.’ In one month, Seraphina will die in Elara’s place. In the next life, I will simply tell her that after nine generations, her people have moved on, and the village can no longer be found. She trusts me completely. She will never doubt it. As long as you keep your mouth shut.” Eight lifetimes of power had honed William’s presence into something truly formidable. The guard prostrated himself, trembling. “My lord, you have my word. I will never breathe a word of this to the princess.” The next second, the mute assassin who shadowed William’s every move stepped forward. A flash of steel, and the guard’s tongue was sliced from his mouth. In all his lives, William had never trusted words. Only the silent could truly keep a secret. The brutality of it sent me stumbling backward. Before, even in the face of his enemies, William had never shown this side of himself to me. The man before me was a stranger, terrifying and cold. I fled back to my chambers, my body collapsing to the floor. After the initial shock, a wave of profound, bottomless despair washed over me. I had been on my way to ask for my soul-incense back. My people’s soul-incense was a finite legacy. When one of us died, our descendant inherited our stick. If a soul-incense was destroyed, not only would that soul be annihilated, but their entire bloodline—over a hundred people—would be barred from the cycle of reincarnation. This was my last life. My ninth and final turn. I had wanted to send my soul-incense back to my village, to at least preserve my family line. But the secret I had so trustingly shared with William in our first life had become the very tool of my people’s extinction. In our first life, William was a Crown Prince. On a quest for a mythical artifact, he had stumbled upon my hidden village and found me, a girl who had never seen the outside world. He became Emperor, and I, his most cherished consort. For ten years, he built me palaces, hosted lavish banquets in my honor, and laid the world’s treasures at my feet. He would wake in the night, clinging to me, weeping that it was all a dream. But empires fall. Barbarians invaded, and our kingdom crumbled. William fled with me from the capital, a desperate retreat across the country. Finally, cornered, his generals delivered an ultimatum. “The people whisper that a sorceress has bewitched the Emperor, cursing the kingdom. Your Majesty, if you do not execute the sorceress and give the army justice, morale will break. We will never reclaim our home.” The courtyard outside my chambers was filled with kneeling courtiers and commanders. William locked me in my room, his body trembling with rage. “Fools! The barbarian threat has existed since my father’s time! It has nothing to do with you! They lose their own battles, and they want a woman to take the blame? Unacceptable!” He threw the dagger they had given him to the floor, his face streaked with tears. I gently picked it up, pressing it back into his hand along with my soul-incense. “William,” I whispered, “I am of the old blood. I can be reborn with my memories intact. Take this. In the next life, it will help you remember me, and find me again.” And so, in my first life, to save his kingdom, I guided his hand and plunged the blade into my own heart. In my second life, I shielded him on the battlefield, taking a thousand arrows meant for him. In my third life, when he summoned me back, he had a wife. Her name, he said, was Elara, his childhood sweetheart, a marriage arranged by their parents. He claimed there was no love between them, but he could not simply cast her aside. I believed him. Later, when rebels stormed the city, they tied both Elara and me to the city walls. “General William,” the rebel leader had shouted, “choose one. Your wife, or your mistress.” For the first time, William hesitated. And in that moment of hesitation, Elara cut her own ropes and leaped from the wall to her death. After that, William changed. In our fourth life, he found me first, but still spent years frantically searching for Elara’s reincarnation. “Seraphina, I failed her in our last life,” he’d explained. “I just want to make it up to her. Our time together will be long.” I dismissed it as a lingering obsession, a need for closure. In our fifth life, we were married, but he rescued Elara from a life of destitution and brought her into our home. “It’s my fault she suffered,” he’d insisted, ignoring my tears. He made her his second wife, of equal rank to me, and let the entire city laugh at my humiliation. So it went, life after life, until our eighth. He was an Emperor again. He gave Elara a child. It broke my heart, but I said nothing. He had given me the title of Empress, and every honor, yet he spent every night in Elara’s palace. I remained silent, until the day he stripped me of my title and threw me in the dungeon. “Seraphina,” he’d said, his voice cold, “I never knew you were so jealous. I only wanted to give her a child to lean on, before we retired to the countryside together. I never imagined you would be so cruel as to harm it.” “I can’t let you harm anyone else.” Elara had lost the child. And he blamed me, the Empress who never even left her own palace wing. Before I could even defend myself, he sentenced me to death by a thousand cuts, three hundred agonizing slices to make me remember my “crime.” Each time I fainted from the pain, his physicians would revive me with ginseng, keeping me alive for the next cut. When it was over, he came to my broken, hollowed-out body, his sword drawn. “Don’t blame me, Seraphina. Wait for me in the next life.” The sword pierced my heart, ending the torment. I awoke in my ninth life. In this life, William had clawed his way from obscurity to become the Prince Regent, all to secure a comfortable life for Elara in the palace. But Elara, emboldened by his power, had become a tyrant, her cruelty and recklessness infamous. Now, a rebellion was rising, their banner proclaiming the need to “cleanse the court and remove the demon consort.” Elara had to die. And William wanted me to die for her. He had promised the last time was the final time. The memories were a physical pain. My first instinct was to run, to at least save the last hope of my people and give my ancestors a proper burial. But I knew that as long as William held my soul-incense, I couldn’t even leave the palace walls. If I couldn’t escape, then at least I could choose how I died. I would not die for the woman who had destroyed my entire race. My gaze fell on the Whisperbloom flowers in the courtyard, a plant I had brought from my village. The blossoms were poisonous, a powerful paralytic. Eaten in large enough quantities, they caused a painless death in one’s sleep. Compared to the agonies of my past eight deaths, it sounded like a mercy. Without hesitation, I stuffed a handful of the blossoms into my mouth. The paralysis was immediate. I tumbled from my chair, my body hitting the ground, my consciousness fading. But then, frantic footsteps from the courtyard. “Seraphina!” William swept me into his arms, his voice raw as he called my name. Through the haze, I thought I saw a flicker of the old panic in his eyes, the helplessness, the fear. I tried to smile. But his face hardened with anger. “You want to die? Seraphina, your life is mine! How dare you try to take it without my permission?” He summoned the royal physicians, forced me to vomit up every last petal, and then ordered the courtyard stripped of every single Whisperbloom. When I was finally coherent, he stood over me, his eyes filled with a deep, chilling disappointment. “You were never like this before, Seraphina. Are you so consumed with jealousy that you would kill yourself, just to force Elara to her death? When did you become so vicious?” He gripped my face, forcing me down into the bedding. With the entire household of servants just outside, he ripped my clothes. “Is it because I gave Elara a child? Is that what this is about? Fine. I’ll satisfy you. Will that be enough?” I saw the shadows of the servants moving behind the screen, and I burned with shame. But the residual poison had left me too weak to even push him away. The gentle lover of my memories was gone. The bed frame creaked violently, and I saw the servants outside freeze, listening. Two tears traced a path from the corners of my eyes. When he was finished, he looked at my tear-streaked face, paused for a fraction of a second, and then simply covered me with the blanket. “You will stay here and recover. Banish these thoughts of suicide from your mind. I have already announced that you are gravely ill. You will remain in this courtyard and entertain no other foolish ideas.” 2 William placed me under house arrest. Guards patrolled the perimeter day and night. Anything I could possibly use to harm myself was removed. I sat on a bare stone bench in the courtyard, the sun beating down on me, but I felt no warmth. A maidservant, her expression blank, draped a cloak over my shoulders and handed me a hand-warmer. “My lady,” she said, her voice monotone, “it is time for your meal.” After my suicide attempt, my stomach was ruined. Every bite of food was agony, causing me to break out in a cold sweat. But William ordered the servants to watch me, to force me to eat every last morsel prepared by the kitchen. “You’re too thin, Seraphina,” he would say. “You don’t look enough like Elara. Don’t be difficult. Eat more. It’s the only way the disguise will be convincing.” So I became a machine, letting them stuff food into my mouth, swallowing it down, enduring the fire that would burn in my gut until the early hours of the morning. Until one day, the moment the food was placed before me, a wave of nausea hit, and I threw up. The maidservant, thinking I had taken poison again, immediately called for the physician. The physician announced that I was pregnant. One month along. I did the math. It was from the day he had confined me. My hand instinctively went to my stomach. A flicker of life in the barren desert of my heart. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The last drop of my people’s blood was right here, inside me. But then, uncertainty. If William knew I was pregnant, would he spare me? Would he let me preserve this last hope? After the physician left, I expected William to come. I waited for three days. He never appeared. A servant whispered that he had left the city in search of some rare treasure. I assumed Elara had heard of some new trinket she desired. It was always the way. She wanted, and William provided. But on the morning of the fourth day, a maidservant rushed into my room. “My lady! The Prince Regent has returned with a magnificent night-glowing pearl! He says it is for your birthday! Quickly, let me help you dress!” Her words jolted me. Today was my birthday. A lifetime of rebirths had blurred the passage of time. I had forgotten. But William had remembered. I touched my stomach, a sliver of hope blooming in my chest. He must care for this child. That’s why he had gone to find my favorite gem, the night-glowing pearl, for my birthday. He stood before me, placing the impossibly large, luminous pearl in my hands. He took my hand, his touch gentle. “Seraphina. Do you like it?” I was about to speak when his tone shifted. “I thought you would like this. A final gift, to send you off happily.” I stared at him, confused. He stood up, and Elara walked in from the doorway. “The rebel army is at the city gates,” she said, her voice impatient. “They’re screaming for my death. William, hurry up.”

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When my family went bankrupt, my mother’s best friend took me in. That’s how I ended up entangled with the two sons of the illustrious Hayes family for twenty years. Their devotion and fierce protectiveness were the envy of everyone we knew. But when I finally decided I was ready to settle down and start a family, they both turned me down. The older brother, David, said, “My career comes first. I’m not interested in marriage right now.” The younger one, Ethan, said, “I’m still young. I want to have fun for a few more years. Besides, what we have is just a casual fling. It was never serious.” The very next day, at my birthday party, they both proposed to the housekeeper’s daughter. To entertain her, they forced me—a person with a chronic stomach condition—to drink a glass of high-proof liquor. As I was rushed to the hospital with internal bleeding, they both covered her eyes and laughed, mocking me for being dramatic. That was the day my heart finally died. The day I was discharged, I called my mother. “I’m ready,” I told her. “I’ll marry the heir to the Russell fortune.” 1 The autumn wind cut through my thin hospital gown as I stepped outside. My phone rang. It was David Hayes, the older brother. His tone was sharp, laced with blame. “Audrey, where have you been hiding? Did you think running away would solve anything? Get back here right now and apologize to Mina.” I could hear Ethan, the younger brother, in the background. “It’s your fault Mina is upset! You and your fake illness. She’s so fragile, she’s barely eaten in days because of you!” I glanced at my reflection in the glass door. I was a wraith, so thin and frail it looked like a strong gust of wind could carry me away. My stomach has been weak since I was a child, my health always delicate. For years, those two brothers had fussed over me endlessly. I remember one night, I had a severe attack, and David carried me on his back down twenty flights of stairs because the elevator was out. Ethan once scoured the entire city to find a specific rice cake I loved, just to see me smile. They controlled every meal I ate, every sip I took, personally overseeing my diet. But that was all before Mina, the housekeeper’s daughter, arrived. After she appeared, they tossed twenty years of memories aside like trash. I hung up without a word and dialed my mother’s number. “Mom, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll marry the Russell heir.” There was a long pause on the other end. “Audrey, darling, this is your life. Are you absolutely sure?” When my father passed away and our family business collapsed, my mother sent me to the capital to live with her best friend, while she stayed behind to salvage what was left of our family’s legacy. For twenty years, she worked tirelessly to build a connection with the powerful Russell family, securing a chance for us to rebuild. But more than any business alliance, she cared about my happiness. Even after the Russell matriarch had taken a liking to me, my mother had left the final choice in my hands. I used to believe that true love was worth waiting for, that I would eventually choose between the two Hayes brothers. Now I saw the truth. I was nothing but a diversion for them, a toy to pass the time. I should have left long ago. I opened my phone to book a flight and saw a new post from Mina. It was a picture of her, lounging in my bedroom, flaunting two different diamond rings on her hand. The caption read: True love needs no words. Only desperate old women have to scheme their way to the top. She was wearing the designer suit and crystal heels the Hayes brothers had custom-made for me six months ago as a birthday present. I silently blocked her number. “Mom, I’m serious,” I said, my voice firm. “I want to have a child of my own, soon.” The doctor at the hospital had told me the internal bleeding had taken a serious toll on my body. If I didn’t get pregnant while I was still young, I might never be able to have children. I didn’t have any more time to wait. “Alright,” my mother said, her voice soft with understanding. “I respect your decision. Mrs. Russell has already had your charts read. Next Sunday is an auspicious day for the marriage registration. As soon as you’re back, I’ll arrange everything.” She must have guessed what had happened. Just before hanging up, she added, “Remember to say a proper goodbye to Aunt Caroline.” I looked up at the grey, overcast sky. The doctor said I needed a week to recover. One week. Just enough time to say goodbye to everything. 2 I took a cab back to the villa. The moment I stepped through the door, a jet of cold water hit me full in the face, soaking me to the bone. “Oh, Audrey, I’m so sorry!” Mina cried, holding a garden hose. She didn’t turn off the water until I was completely drenched. “I was watering the flowers. I didn’t see you.” I blinked, trying to clear my vision. My eyes fell on the garden bed. The Mina of the valley flowers I had painstakingly cultivated for years were gone, ripped out. In their place were rows and rows of garish, bright red roses. A gust of cold wind swept through the yard, and a wave of nausea and dizziness washed over my post-surgery body. I swayed, nearly collapsing. David and Ethan exchanged a look of pure contempt, as if mocking me for putting on a show the moment I returned. “Audrey,” David drawled, “I thought you had more backbone than that. I didn’t think you’d ever come back.” “Her own mother doesn’t even want her,” Ethan sneered. “Where else would she go?” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I remembered the day I first arrived at the Hayes mansion. Ethan had held my hand, trying everything to make me smile. “Don’t be scared, Audrey,” he’d said. “This is your home now.” David had given me the largest and best room in the house. When the three of us moved into this villa for work, he had remembered all my preferences, decorating the master suite just for me. He had declared to everyone that I was, and always would be, the irreplaceable lady of the house. Everything changed the day Mina arrived, under the guise of helping her mother, the housekeeper. She spent her days either clinging to the brothers or “accidentally” breaking my things. At first, I was patient, understanding that she was unaccustomed to our world. But she grew bolder, eventually shattering a jade pendant my father had left me, right in front of my eyes. When I finally confronted her, David pushed me away. “Mina’s had a hard life,” he’d said, his brow furrowed. “You’re a princess who’s had everything handed to you. Why do you have to pick on a simple girl who doesn’t know any better?” “She’s younger than me,” Ethan had added. “You’re the older one. Can’t you just let things go?” Clutching the broken pieces of my father’s pendant, I felt a profound sense of confusion and helplessness for the first time. After that, I was no longer the center of their universe. The housekeeper’s daughter had slowly, methodically, replaced me. She was the new mistress of the villa, and I was being pushed out. Fine. There was nothing left for me here. I went inside, intending to pack, only to find all my belongings thrown in a heap in the hallway. David stood there with his arm around Mina, looking down at me. “Audrey, you need to understand your place,” he said coldly. “You’re nothing but a parasite, living off our family. You have no right to look down on Mina, and you certainly have no right to throw your princess tantrums at her.” “From now on, you’ll live in the maid’s room. Mina will be taking over your responsibilities at the company. I’m transferring you to logistics. You can stay there until you learn some humility.” Ethan then ripped the head off the teddy bear my mother had given me, tossing it to Mina to make her laugh. “Big sister Audrey,” he cooed, his voice laced with menace, “if you make Mina unhappy again, I won’t be so gentle next time.” Big sister Audrey. The way he said it now was a world away from the adoration it once held. The old me would have been heartbroken, unable to sleep for nights. But I was leaving. I had no time or energy to argue. “You’re right,” I said quietly. “I’ll move out as soon as possible. And don’t worry about transferring me. I quit.” David scoffed. “So, you’re determined to be a useless freeloader, living off our family forever.” He sighed. “Fine. For my mother’s sake, I won’t argue with you this time. Just remember your place from now on.” I walked past him, my voice barely a whisper. “There is no ‘from now on.’” This place held so many beautiful memories. But it was never my home. 3 I thought it would take me a long time to pack, but when I looked at my things, there was almost nothing left. Most of my clothes had been chosen by David. “Our Audrey is the most beautiful princess,” he used to say. “She deserves to be dressed beautifully every day.” Now, those clothes were soaked in dirty water, reeking of some foul odor. And I had gone from his princess to a parasite with a princess complex. I pushed the clothes aside and saw photos scattered on the floor. Ethan used to love taking pictures of me, wanting to capture every moment. In every group photo, the two of them would fight to stand closer to me. Now, in those same photos, my face was crossed out with a red marker. I couldn’t bear to look anymore. I swept everything into a trash bag. David and Mina were coming downstairs as I did. A flicker of shock crossed his face. He knew how much I used to treasure those things. But it was quickly replaced by a cold sneer. “You’re quick to waste the Hayes family’s money, aren’t you?” The David I knew would have spent a fortune to make me happy. Now, with Mina by his side, everything I did was wrong. I had lost the right to be willful, and I no longer had the desire to argue. “I’ll pay you back,” I said simply. “The Hayes family doesn’t need your money. Just remember, you are never to bother Mina again.” Mina tugged on David’s sleeve. “David, honey, don’t waste your time on irrelevant people. I still want to go to our secret place and see the stars. Can we go now?” I froze. The “secret place” she mentioned was a rooftop observatory David had built for me when I first came to live with them. His mother, Caroline, was always busy with work, so the task of looking after me had fallen to David, who was six years older. He gave me the best of everything. He called me his moonlight. And so, he designed an eternal starry sky just for me. I remember him looking at me that night, his eyes full of emotion. “Audrey,” he’d said, “remember this. This is your sky. And this is my love, just for you.” We spent twenty years perfecting that starry sky, creating a dreamlike sanctuary. From that day on, the scales of my heart had tipped towards David. But every time I was close to making a choice, Ethan would throw a tantrum, and the moment would pass. Now… they had a new, vibrant red rose. They had long forgotten their pale, faded moonlight. It didn’t matter. I took a deep breath and started to leave. I didn’t want either of them anymore.

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I paid $200,000 to get my mother the best doctor for her chronic heart condition, only to discover that when it was time for her surgery, someone else was on the operating table. And on my official city records, I suddenly had a new mother. I tracked down this imposter. She was completely unapologetic. “Look, I’m already in the hospital bed,” she said. “They’re using all this fancy imported equipment on me. What’s done is done. Why don’t you just accept me as your new mom?” I fought back a tidal wave of fury. Using my legal status as her official guardian, I had this “mother” transferred to a women’s health clinic for a full mastectomy. Then I prepared the lawsuit that would put her and her entire family behind bars. This time, it was her son who went insane. He stormed over to my house, furious. I just shrugged. “She’s listed as my mother on the official documents. What’s my mom got to do with you?” 1 My mom’s heart blockages were a chronic problem. I’d spent years working myself to the bone, saving up a little money, all with one goal: to get her the best doctor and cure this illness for good. I paid $200,000 for a top surgeon and a procedure using state-of-the-art imported technology. But when I arrived at the hospital to handle the admission paperwork, the administrator told me her scheduled surgery slot had already been used. I thought it was a mistake. My mother was right beside me, weak and frail. How could her slot have been used? “According to our system,” the administrator insisted, “the patient registered under your guardianship has already been admitted and is currently occupying the pre-paid room.” I looked at my own mother, her face gaunt and pale from the constant strain on her heart, and I nearly lunged across the desk. I’d paid the full $200,000 upfront to expedite everything. Now they were telling me it was all gone? This had to be some kind of corruption, someone in the hospital stealing my money. “Sir, this is a reputable institution,” the administrator said stiffly. “We would never touch a patient’s funds.” I forced myself to calm down and demanded to see the records. They were right. The records showed my mother’s slot had been taken. The patient was currently in the very room I had booked. I stormed to the cardiac wing and burst into the room. Just as the records showed, a strange old woman was lying in the bed. “Who are you?” I demanded, my voice shaking with rage. “What are you doing in my mother’s bed?” She slowly lifted her heavy-lidded eyes. “This is the bed my son booked for me. What do you mean, your bed?” I dragged the administrator back to the room to sort this out. He checked his tablet, then looked at me. “Sir, the records are correct. Her son completed her admission. Please stop causing a disturbance.” I shoved my payment receipts in his face—the surgeon’s fee, the equipment fee, the room fee. Everything. He glanced at them, then back at the woman in the bed. “Yes, that all seems to be in order. Your mother is right here.” I thought I was going to lose my mind. My real mother was downstairs, exhausted and struggling to breathe. Who the hell was this woman? The administrator was confused now, too. He cross-referenced the files. “Is your mother’s name Martha?” he asked me. I shook my head. “And you are Leo, correct?” I nodded. Yes, I was Leo, but my mother’s name was Diane, not Martha. He threw his hands up. “Our system doesn’t make mistakes, sir. Martha’s admission followed all correct procedures. Whatever personal issues you have, you need to sort them out yourselves and not interfere with our patients.” I was stunned. If the hospital system was correct, that meant this woman, Martha, was legally my mother. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. I turned to the woman in the bed. “What is going on here?” I yelled. She gave me a pitying look. “Son, are you upset that I used your money? Has it affected your mind? We’re in a hospital, you know. Maybe you should see a psychiatrist.” The administrator nodded. “He might have a point.” I wanted to scream. Seeing I was getting nowhere, I went back downstairs, took my real mother home, and drove straight to the city records office. I’d gone there expecting to find a typo. What I found sent a chill down my spine. My official family file had been altered. It wasn’t a typo. It was a complete replacement. On the official record, under the line for “Mother,” it no longer read Diane. It read: Martha. 2 I lost it right there in the records office, screaming at the clerks, demanding to know how this could happen. How could someone just change a legal family record? To their credit, the officers there were patient. They understood my fury but warned me that if I didn’t calm down, they’d have to detain me for disturbing the peace. Realizing they were right, I took a deep breath and apologized. But when I asked how this happened, they could only guess that a new clerk on the night shift must have made a mistake. They said a woman named Martha and her son had come in and, somehow, her details were entered into my file. “Fine,” I said. “Then just change it back.” The lead officer shook his head. “We can’t just alter official records on your word alone. For all we know, the current record is the correct one.” I was speechless. They could make a mistake without any proof, but to correct it, they suddenly needed to follow the letter of the law. It felt like they were deliberately targeting me. I asked for the identity of the person who filed the change, but they cited privacy laws and refused. Fine. If they wouldn’t help me, I’d figure it out myself. When I got home, my mother didn’t know the full extent of the problem yet. Seeing my dark mood, she tried to comfort me. “Son, this illness is a burden on you. I’m an old woman. It doesn’t matter if I get the surgery or not. My time is short. Don’t waste your money.” She thought I’d run into financial trouble. Her selflessness just twisted the knife in my gut. I told her everything and swore that no matter what, I would get her the treatment she deserved. Tears welled in her eyes. My father, who had been listening, slammed his hand on the table, making the dishes rattle. “Son of a bitch! I’ve been on this earth for sixty years, and I have never seen such shameless thievery! Stealing a surgery!” “Dad, don’t worry,” I said, trying to calm him. “I’ll handle this. Mom’s treatment won’t be delayed.” He looked at my determined face and clapped me on the shoulder. “Good boy. The first thing is to find that family and get our money back. Your mother’s health is what matters.” I nodded, my resolve hardening into steel. “Just get the money back,” my mother whispered. “That’s all that matters.” I told them to rest. I would make that family pay for what they did. In blood, if necessary. 3 I immediately called a lawyer friend and explained the situation—the altered records, the stolen surgery slot. I wanted to know what crime they had committed. “It’s tricky,” he said. “From the hospital’s perspective, the procedure was done correctly. The real crime is the records tampering. If you can prove they did that fraudulently, we can get them for felony fraud.” With that, I drove back to the hospital. Martha was propped up in bed, casually eating grapes and spitting the skins onto the floor. When she saw me, she grinned. “Ah, my son is here! Did you bring me a treat?” “I am not your son,” I said through gritted teeth. She sat up, looking surprisingly energetic for someone who’d just had major heart surgery. “The official records say you are. Are you trying to disown your own mother now?” “Cut the crap,” I said, getting straight to the point. “Who is your real son? And how did you change my family records?” The old woman just sat there, a smug, contemptuous look in her eyes. That look sent a jolt of pure rage through me, and I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Tell me! My real mother needs this surgery. How can you be so cruel?” To my shock, she threw her head back and started screaming. “He’s hitting his mother! Help! My son is beating me! Is there no justice in this world?” Leo is being publicly shamed and framed, but he may have just found a crucial lead. Do you wish to continue reading to see how he turns the tables? Her cries instantly drew a crowd of nurses and other patients, who began pointing and whispering. The head nurse rushed over and got in my face. “I don’t care who your mother is! The name on the chart is Martha, and she is under your legal guardianship. You will not cause a scene in my hospital!” “I didn’t touch her!” I yelled, exasperated. “She’s lying!” Martha, adding fuel to the fire, lifted her arm. “Look! He left a bruise!” It was clearly just a smudge of dirt from her own unwashed hands, but the crowd didn’t see that. They saw an old woman being abused by her son. People started taking out their phones to record me. “She’s not my mother!” I shouted desperately. “She’s an imposter!” This only made Martha more dramatic. “I raised a monster,” she wailed, dabbing at her dry eyes with a tissue. “My own son won’t even acknowledge me.” A woman from the next bed chimed in. “It’s true. He never visits. There’s some other man, a stranger, who comes to see her all the time. Tsk, tsk. Poor Martha.” My ears perked up. A stranger who visits her. That had to be her real son. I pushed through the crowd to the woman. “You said a stranger comes to visit her?” “That’s right,” the woman said. “Brings her fruit and things. If you ask me, he acts more like her real son.” “Do you know where he lives?” I pressed. Before she could answer, Martha cut in sharply. “Son, stop bothering people! It’s kind of him to visit, but why are you asking for his address? Are you planning to go threaten him?” The crowd murmured in agreement, their glares intensifying. “This woman is not my mother!” I pleaded one last time. “She stole my mother’s surgery slot, and now my real mom is at home, getting sicker by the day!” Martha’s eyes flashed with anger. “I know you don’t want to pay for my treatment! You’re just angry I spent so much of your money! Fine! I’ll go home! I won’t get any more treatment!” She made a show of trying to climb out of bed, and the nurses rushed to stop her, scolding me for upsetting a sick old woman. I knew I couldn’t win here. I slipped out of the hospital, defeated but with a new plan. 4 On the drive home, I put the pieces together. Her real son visits her at the hospital. All I had to do was wait. Meanwhile, my mom’s condition was deteriorating. She was barely strong enough to speak, and she could only manage a few bites of food. Seeing her frail body and sallow face felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Every day she got worse was because of Martha. If she didn’t get treatment soon, I was going to lose her. I staked out the hospital for three days straight. Finally, one evening, I saw him. A short, grimy-looking man I would later learn was named Caleb. He was carrying a bag of browning, overripe bananas, probably scavenged from a market stall. He had the smug look of someone who thought he’d pulled off the heist of the century, completely oblivious to the fact that he’d committed a serious crime. I crept to the door of Martha’s room and listened. “Mom, has that guy been back?” he whispered. “You don’t think he’ll cause any trouble, do you?” Martha laughed. “Don’t worry, son. He’s a total pushover. We yelled at him, and he ran away with his tail between his legs. You have nothing to worry about.” “Great,” Caleb said. “So after all this, we’ve cleared a good $160,000.” I frowned. The surgery cost $200,000. Why 160? Did it cost them forty thousand to get the records changed? After a few more minutes, Caleb left. I followed him at a distance, all the way back to his home in a run-down apartment complex. I knocked on the door. A stout, hostile woman answered. “Who are you? What do you want?” she snapped. 5 I told her the whole story, pleading with her. I explained that we were just normal working people, that I had saved for years, that it was my parents’ life savings, all for my mother’s surgery. I begged her to understand the mistake they’d made and to return the money. She didn’t listen to a word. She just muttered a curse and tried to slam the door in my face. I jammed my foot in the doorway. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. This woman was clearly not one to back down. Her voice shot up to a piercing shriek, like a boiling kettle. “Get the hell out of here! Don’t you dare cause trouble at my home!” The screaming brought another person out of the back room, a bowl of rice still in his hand. It was Martha’s son, Caleb. They were a couple. “What’s going on?” he asked, seeing me. I used the distraction to shove the door open. “I’m Diane’s son. Your mother stole my mother’s surgery.” The color drained from his face. He dropped his bowl and tried to shove the door closed. “I don’t know you! Get out of my house!” I pushed back with all my strength. “Have you no humanity?” I roared. “My mother is dying because of what you did!” Caleb was clearly terrified, his only goal to get me away from his door. “Go away, or I’ll call the cops for trespassing!” “Go ahead!” I shot back. “Call them! Let’s see who they believe!” He was losing the battle for the door. It was slowly inching open. “I’m not here to make trouble,” I said, trying a different tack. “Just give me the money back. My mother’s life is on the line.” “I don’t have any money!” he yelled, his voice cracking. “And I don’t give a damn if your mother dies!” That was it. That was the line. “Your mother’s life matters, but mine doesn’t?” I bellowed. “You think I don’t know you forged the records? This isn’t the dark ages. Everything is computerized. There’s a digital trail for everything!” As we were locked in our struggle, the woman suddenly disappeared and reappeared with a kitchen knife, swinging it right at my head. I jerked back just in time for the blade to miss my face, but it sliced a deep gash across my shoulder. The woman screamed, her face contorted with rage. “If you ever come back here again, I’ll take your head off!” She was insane. The wound wasn’t life-threatening, but I knew if I stayed, I might not walk away at all. I backed away slowly. Before I left, I looked them both in the eye. “You wanted to play dirty,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

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1 It all began at the Royal Spring Hunt. That was where Crown Prince Adrian, with a single arrow, struck an orphan girl. She was Lina, the niece of his biological mother—a woman whose name was a dark whisper in the palace, a stain on his royal lineage. Adrian was instantly smitten. He declared on the spot that he would make her his princess. There was just one problem: I was his fiancée. Elara of the great House Stanley. He came to Stanley Manor to break the engagement himself, his voice ringing with self-righteous conviction. “I was the one who tended her wound. We were alone. Her honor is compromised—by my hand. She has no other path now but to marry me.” He looked at me then, a flicker of pity in his eyes. “You are the Queen’s niece. You’ll have your pick of any nobleman in the kingdom. Why would you fight a poor, helpless girl over one man?” A daughter of House Stanley, fighting over a man? He must have been dreaming. The moment word of his intent got out, a royal decree arrived from the palace. I was to remain the undisputed Crown Princess. It was just that the Prince now had someone else in mind for the role. … Prince Adrian stood in our grand hall, his posture regal, but his eyes were fixed on the fragile beauty beside him. “Lina is delicate, and new to the capital,” he announced to my family. “I injured her, and in binding her wounds, I compromised her. If I don’t marry her, how can she possibly face the world? I appeal to your good sense, Lady Elara. A young woman’s reputation is everything. Lina has no future now, except as my wife. If you have any compassion at all, you will agree to end our betrothal.” He had been infatuated with Lina for two whole months, ever since that hunt. He’d said nothing, waiting, deliberately choosing my birthday to unleash this humiliation upon me and my house. With a hall full of guests, we had no choice but to face this storm. My father’s hand trembled as he gripped his wine glass. He abandoned all pretense of courtesy. “Your Highness, have you considered what a cancellation on these grounds will do to Elara? How will her honor be preserved? You were the one who begged the King for this match, a fact known throughout the capital. To come here now and cast it aside… what does that make of House Stanley?” Lina clutched Adrian’s sleeve, her voice a tremulous whisper. “My prince, please, don’t argue with Lord Stanley on my account. I can bear the rumors. Death is a small price to pay. I would never want to be a burden to you.” Adrian wrapped an arm around her. “I won’t let you face the whispers alone,” he murmured, before turning his gaze to me. It was a look of arrogant disdain. “Lady Elara, you come from a noble line. Surely you won’t stoop to fighting Lina for a husband. You have a legion of suitors to choose from. To cling to this engagement now would seem… grasping.” He smirked. “Or perhaps you’re just like all the other women in this city, desperate only for the title of Crown Princess? Since our betrothal, you’ve been so cold. You refused all my invitations—for walks, for tea, for poetry readings. You were clearly unhappy with the match. This is for the best.” House Stanley, one of the founding families of the kingdom, had never suffered such an insult. I was speechless with rage. I simply retrieved the betrothal contract. “Your Highness, here is the writ. From this day forward, we are free of each other. May you find your happiness, and I shall find mine.” I turned to his new love. “And you, Miss Lina, need not weep here in my home. You’ve captured a prince’s heart and are on the verge of securing the most coveted position in the land. Shouldn’t you be celebrating?” Lina swayed, her face turning ashen. “Lady Elara, I know my station is beneath yours. I never meant to steal your fiancé. You don’t have to be so cruel.” Adrian laughed, a short, sharp, mocking sound. “You’re so quick to end it, Lady Elara. Could it be you already have someone else in mind? Perhaps my breaking this off is exactly what you wanted.” He scanned the stunned faces of our guests. “Since it’s your birthday, why not choose a new husband today? I will personally provide a magnificent wedding gift.” With that, he smiled, draped his arm around Lina, and departed, leaving a maelstrom of gossip in his wake. “Is the Prince mad? Breaking his engagement for some cousin who appeared out of thin air?” “But Lady Elara is the Queen’s niece! She is his cousin!” “Haven’t you heard? He shot this other cousin, Lina, at the spring hunt. It was love at first sight, and now he’ll move heaven and earth to marry her.” “Where did she even come from? No one’s ever heard of her. And the royal hunting grounds are heavily guarded. How did she get in?” “They say she’s from his birth mother’s family…” “Hush! The Prince’s origins are forbidden talk. Have you forgotten? His mother was a lowly palace servant.” My birthday celebration was ruined, ending in hushed tones and hasty departures. By morning, the story of how Crown Prince Adrian had jilted a daughter of House Stanley for an orphan girl was the talk of the entire capital. 2 The next day, the Queen summoned me to the palace. She is my father’s sister, my aunt, and she has always cherished me. Though she has reigned as Queen for years, she has no children of her own—a constant, secret sorrow. Adrian’s birth mother was nothing more than a kitchen girl the King had a fleeting encounter with at a summer palace. Her station was so low she was never even granted a formal title. She died not long after Adrian was born. Because of his mother’s disgraceful status, Adrian was scorned by everyone, even the palace eunuchs. He nearly didn’t survive his childhood. It was my aunt, the Queen, beloved by the King and holding absolute power within the palace, who took pity on him. She brought him into her own wing, raising him as her son and ensuring he received the education of a prince. It was only because of her patronage that he, the fourth-born son, was named Crown Prince. “My dearest child,” she said, her grip on my hand tight with sympathy. “I know the injustice you’ve suffered. Adrian is a fool, blind to the blessings he’s been given. I taught him for years, gave him the most precious daughter of our house, and for what? He throws it all away for a pretty face, a ‘cousin’ he’s never even met before!” Her voice was laced with fury. “How can a man with such poor judgment ever rule? All my years of guidance… wasted. It seems the blood of that common girl runs truer in his veins than any of my teachings. He is not of my body, and I see now he will never be truly of my heart.” I rested my head on her lap, seeking her familiar comfort. “Aunt, it is better that the Prince revealed his true nature now than after I was bound to him in the palace. A daughter of House Stanley will not lack for suitors.” The Queen’s expression softened into a smile as she stroked my cheek. “Our Elara is the finest young woman in the kingdom. Do not worry. The position of Crown Princess is yours, and no one else can take it.” The King and Queen’s love story was legendary. They were childhood friends, and his devotion to her had never wavered, even without an heir of their own. Because she had raised Adrian, the King’s affection for her extended to the boy. Despite his ignoble birth, the King had granted him the highest title of all: Crown Prince. The King, too, had heard of the broken engagement and was livid. “Idiot!” he had roared at Adrian. “The greatest houses in the land would kill to have a daughter of Stanley. And you were betrothed to their primary heir, Elara herself! You threw that away for some nobody?” “The Queen arranged this marriage to give you the backing you lack! With House Stanley behind you, your position would have been unassailable. You have single-handedly cast away your greatest asset. You are as dumb as a swine!” The King stormed out, leaving Adrian fuming. Unfazed by his adoptive father’s rage, Adrian had the audacity to bring Lina to the Queen’s chambers to “pay respects.” He knelt before her. “Mother, you have always loved me. I only wish to marry a woman I adore. I am the Crown Prince. Surely, I have the right to choose the woman I love?” The Queen looked down at him, her disappointment a tangible thing. “You and Elara grew up together. I recall you kneeling before me, begging for this betrothal, claiming you cherished her and would stand by her for all your days. Was that a lie? You said you would be one heart, one soul, for a lifetime. Now she is not the woman you love?” “That girl, Lina, has blinded you.” Adrian held his head high, his hand tightly gripping Lina’s. “Mother, Elara is just like every other dull noblewoman. She’s rigid, boring, utterly devoid of life. But Lina… Lina is different! She loves to laugh and play. She can dance in ways the court has never seen and sings folk songs from the countryside. She’s captivating! Mother, if you just got to know her, I know you would love her too!” From behind the screen where I was hidden, a scornful smile touched my lips. Singing folk songs and dancing provocative dances? The taverns and brothels were full of such “captivating” women. The Queen’s voice was ice. “Adrian, do you have any idea what you will lose without the support of House Stanley?” The Prince actually smiled. “I know you mean their political power in the southern territories. But Mother, I am the Crown Prince, the future king. The entire kingdom will be my domain. What do I have to fear?” He brightened further. “I know you are fond of Elara. So, let her be my secondary wife. When I am King, I will make her a Duchess. Surely House Stanley wouldn’t dare object to that?” My fists clenched behind the screen. The insolence of this boy. “A daughter of House Stanley will never be a secondary wife,” the Queen stated, her voice dangerously calm. “Adrian, you are my adopted son, but you are not the King’s only son. Do you truly believe you can hold your position on your own?” “Of course,” the Prince said with unshakeable confidence. “I am the future king.” Lina spoke then, her voice dripping with false humility. “Your Majesty, I know my status is low. If Lady Elara joins the Prince’s household, I promise I will never compete with her. I will treat her as a sister, and we will serve our prince together.” The Queen let out a soft, chilling laugh. “Adrian, be certain of your choice. Once you marry this girl, there is no turning back.” “I am certain,” Adrian declared. “I will never regret it.” “Very well,” the Queen said with a wave of her hand. “You may leave. I will issue the decree in a few days.” His arrogance was boundless, a blatant dismissal of my family, the very foundation of the Queen’s own power. I knew my aunt had made her decision. I said no more, slipping away unnoticed. As I left the Queen’s wing, Adrian was waiting for me, blocking the palace gate. “Elara,” he began, his tone suddenly softer. “I was impulsive yesterday. I’ve thought it over, and I was wrong to act as I did.” “My father, the King, reprimanded me. And I realize, I should not have damaged your reputation so publicly.” “I have asked my mother to decree that I will marry Lina as my primary wife, but I will take you as my princess consort. That title is no insult. This way, we can still be together, and I won’t have broken my promise to you completely. What do you say?” He looked at me with what he must have thought was soulful tenderness, expecting me to nod in grateful acceptance. He was disappointed. I took a step back. “Your Highness, the matter of our betrothal is concluded. There is nothing more to discuss.” He reached for me. “Elara, I know I was wrong. Forgive me, just this once. I can even apologize to you in public, so you can regain face. Please?” I snatched my hand away. “Your Highness, control yourself. You declared our engagement void with your own royal lips. We were to go our separate ways. Have you forgotten already?” He cornered me against the wall, his voice dropping to a low threat. “Elara, you must be sweet and gentle if you want to be cherished by a man. We were betrothed. A woman rejected by the Crown Prince… who in this kingdom will dare marry you now? If word of your defiance spreads, your life will be ruined.” I lifted my chin, staring into the face that bore no resemblance to my noble aunt. “You need not concern yourself with my future, Your Highness. A daughter of House Stanley will not lack for suitors. Even if you screamed yourself hoarse proclaiming me untouchable, the nobles of this realm would still line up at my family’s door.” His face darkened with fury. “Elara, there’s a limit to how much a man will tolerate a woman’s temper. I will inform the King that the wedding will proceed as planned. And once you are my consort, I will take great pleasure in teaching you some manners.” From that day on, Adrian paraded Lina all over the capital. He showered her with gifts, commissioning the finest jewelers and silk weavers to craft a trousseau fit for a queen, since her own family was too poor to provide one. Lina, who had never seen such opulence, was mesmerized by the silks and gems. Adrian would hold her close and proclaim, “I will make every person in this kingdom bow to you. One day, you will be the most revered woman in the land.” He spent lavishly, surrounded by a cloud of sycophants who praised him as a true romantic, a prince who defied the King and Queen for love, who would cast aside a powerful noble house for a humble maiden. It was, they said, a story for the ages. Fed by this adulation, Adrian’s ego swelled. He took Lina’s hand and whispered, “You are the only one I love. You will be my Queen, and all will kneel before you. As for that little wretch from House Stanley, she will be lucky to serve you.” Lina would lean against him, a picture of delicate virtue. “My prince, are you sure you want to give up Lady Elara for me? She is the Queen’s niece, a true high-born lady. She is better suited to be Crown Princess. As long as I have your heart, I would gladly give up the title, just to be near you every day…” “And the Queen… she doesn’t seem to like me. I don’t want you to be in a difficult position.” “Nonsense,” he soothed, stroking her hair. “I am the Crown Prince. Can I not give the woman I love the highest honor? House Stanley, for all its prestige, is still just a subject of the crown. Offering her a secondary position is already a great kindness.” “My mother has no children of her own. She raised me. Who else can she rely on? She will come around, you’ll see.” His voice hardened. “As for Elara Stanley, the King commands, the subject obeys. If I want her as my consort, House Stanley will deliver her to my doorstep.” His circle of fools applauded. “Spoken like a true future king! Such power!” These words, of course, reached the palace with lightning speed. “The King commands, the subject obeys.” Adrian was still only the heir, yet he spoke as if the throne were already his. The current King, still in the prime of his life, did not take kindly to such presumptuous talk. When he heard it, his face contorted with rage, and he swept the entire contents of his desk to the floor in a single, furious motion. When the Queen heard it, she merely smiled, a thin, cold curve of her lips. “Who else can I rely on?” she murmured to her lady-in-waiting. Her attendant replied smoothly, “He seems to have forgotten, Your Majesty, that every prince in this palace calls you ‘Mother.’ They are all your children.” A few days later, my mother hosted a garden party, partly to lift my spirits and partly to discreetly begin the process of finding me a new, more suitable match. As the guests mingled among the blooming roses, a servant’s voice cut through the cheerful chatter. “His Highness, the Crown Prince, has arrived!” Adrian swept into the garden with Lina on his arm, followed by servants carrying more than a dozen lavish gift boxes. He smiled at me, a picture of magnanimity. “A garden party for Elara? How could I not attend? Were you so angry with me that you neglected to send an invitation? No matter. I have come uninvited to make my apologies. Surely you can’t still be cross with me.” Beaming, he stepped forward and plucked a perfect crimson rose, moving to tuck it into my hair. The guests gasped. I recoiled as if struck. “Your Highness. I am merely your subject. I am not worthy of such a gesture. I hear the royal wedding is soon. Allow me to offer my congratulations to you and your future Crown Princess. May you have a long and happy life together.” My words drew a sharp, clear line between us. He faltered for a second, then his smile returned, strained. “Still angry? Very well. It is all my fault. I will offer a formal apology right here. The other day, I consulted the Royal Astrologers. The first day of next month is a most auspicious date. I will inform the King and Queen that you will enter the palace then, ahead of the main ceremony. You will hold a rank equal to Lina’s. And I will swear an oath, right here in front of everyone: besides Lina, no other woman shall ever be placed above you!” The guests exchanged confused, worried glances. The engagement was broken, wasn’t it? Why was the Prince acting as if it was a settled matter that a daughter of Stanley would be his secondary wife? Lina giggled beside him. “It’s true, sister Elara. I convinced the Prince to bring you into the palace first. You won’t have the robes of a Crown Princess, but I went to the royal tailor myself and commissioned a wedding gown for you. It’s absolutely beautiful.” At her signal, a servant brought forth a gown of shimmering silver-rose silk, heavily embroidered with jewels. It was magnificent, opulent… and it was not the pure, deep crimson reserved for a primary royal bride. My mother and the elders of my house turned pale. This was not a gift. It was a calculated, public humiliation, an attempt to grind the honor of House Stanley into the dust. I met Lina’s triumphant gaze and let out a cold, dismissive laugh. “The Prince is to be married. He should find a proper tutor to instruct his future bride on court etiquette—what to say, and more importantly, what not to say. Marriages, since time immemorial, are arranged by the will of the parents and the exchange of contracts. House Stanley has agreed to no such union. Without contract or consent, it is not a marriage, it is a disgrace. Surely, Miss Lina, you understand this?” My voice dropped. “Ah, but perhaps not. You entered the Prince’s residence without a contract yourself, didn’t you?” “Such customs must be learned elsewhere. We of House Stanley do not practice them. This gown, beautiful as it is, I cannot accept. I suggest you take it back and wear it yourself.” Lina’s face flushed a furious red. “How dare you! I am the future Crown Princess! You will show me respect!” I took a step closer, looking down at her. “Has a royal decree named you as such? Does the kingdom know that the Prince has taken a wife? No? Then I suggest you learn some humility, Miss Lina. Before you celebrate a victory that is not yet won, and find yourself with nowhere to hide when it all comes crashing down.” Tears streamed down her face as she threw herself into Adrian’s arms. “My prince, I didn’t mean it like that! I was only trying to be kind and bring her a gift! Why must she be so aggressive? I told her I would be a good sister to her!” She sobbed. “It must be my low birth. I’m not worthy to share a husband with her. My prince, I don’t want to cause you trouble… If I must endure such insults, I would rather not be Crown Princess at all! I would rather be a simple servant, just to be by your side…” Adrian’s face was a thundercloud. “House Stanley calls itself noble, and this is the kind of daughter it produces?” His voice was cold steel. “If you people are so determined to be difficult, then you leave me no choice. I will dispense with the pleasantries. I issue this decree myself, today. Guards! Take Lady Elara back to the palace. We will consummate our union tonight, and tomorrow, you are all invited to drink a toast to Elara, my new princess consort.” “You go too far!” my father roared. The Prince’s guards and handmaidens were already moving towards me, surrounding me. The party guests looked on in horror. Suddenly, a clear, authoritative voice rang out from the gates. “A Royal Decree has arrived!” A smile bloomed on Adrian’s face. “It must be my mother. She has convinced the King to grant my wish.” He turned to me, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “A marriage granted by the King himself. This should satisfy the honor of House Stanley, wouldn’t you agree?” The royal herald stood before the stunned crowd, and all fell to their knees. He unrolled the scroll. “By the Will of Heaven and the Command of the King… To Elara of House Stanley, a woman of noble birth, impeccable virtue, and gentle grace. You are a perfect match for the King’s third son, Prince Kaelan. To forge a bond for a hundred years, you are hereby betrothed to Prince Kaelan as his primary wife and future Duchess. The wedding shall be arranged at the next auspicious date. By Royal Command!”

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A month into my freshman year, I learned that the entire campus had a nickname for me: the Parasite. The name was coined by Sophia, my childhood best friend’s new deskmate. It was because I was always with Liam. Eating the breakfast he brought me, using his campus card, living in a small rental near his family’s home. I asked Liam why he didn’t stop them. He just laughed, a careless, easy sound. “It’s just a nickname. Sophia likes to joke around, don’t take it to heart.” He paused, then added, “Besides, you do cling to me all day. You are… kind of like a parasite.” I froze, my heart clenching as if squeezed by a brutal hand. So that’s what it was. Eighteen years of companionship, and in his eyes, I was just a parasite. I didn’t argue. I just went home and deleted every photo of him from my phone. Then I went to the registrar’s office and withdrew from the university. That’s when Liam finally panicked. “Ava, where are you going?” “Somewhere you will never find me.” 1 I first heard the name while standing in line at the dining hall. It was a normal Wednesday. I held my tray, shuffling along with the lunchtime crowd. The two girls in front of me were whispering, their voices just loud enough for me to catch. “Look, the Parasite’s here again.” “She follows Liam around all day. Has she no shame?” At first, I thought they were talking about someone else. Then one of them glanced back, her eyes lingering on me for a moment before a knowing smile spread across her face. It was a look I recognized—the look of someone enjoying a spectacle, of someone who knew a secret I didn’t. My fingers tightened on my tray, the plastic edge digging painfully into my palm. Parasite? Were they talking about me? I looked around and realized that many people were watching me. Some were whispering, their fingers subtly pointing in my direction. Others were smirking, their eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and contempt. My face instantly burned. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. I grabbed my food and fled to the most secluded corner I could find. But I’d barely taken two bites when the conversation from the next table drifted over. “Ava Moore is so disgusting, always clinging to Liam.” The girl’s voice was loud, as if she didn’t care that I was right there. “I heard her family is dirt poor, and the Griffiths have been supporting her forever,” another voice added. “No wonder Sophia calls her the Parasite. It’s the perfect name.” “Seriously. I’ve never seen anyone so shameless.” My hands started to tremble. My chopsticks clattered onto the table. The girls looked over, and seeing it was me, they didn’t stop. They just laughed louder. “Oh, look. The Parasite is mad.” “What’s she pretending for? It’s not like we’re wrong.” I clenched my jaw, trying to hold myself together, but my hands were shaking too badly to even hold my chopsticks. The food tasted like ash. I finally gave up, picked up my nearly untouched tray, and hurried out of the dining hall, the sound of their laughter washing over me like a toxic wave. 2 I went to find Liam immediately. He was on the basketball court, glistening with sweat under the afternoon sun. Sophia was sitting on the bleachers, a vision in a white sundress, holding a bottle of water and cheering for him. When she saw me, her smile was blindingly bright. It was the smile of a cat that had just cornered a mouse. “Ava! You’re here! Come, sit,” she chirped, patting the space next to her. I ignored her, my eyes locked on Liam. He had just sunk a three-pointer, and his teammates were celebrating. “Liam, I need to talk to you.” My voice was quiet but carried across the court. He turned, a slight frown creasing his brow when he saw me. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he sounded annoyed. “What is it? Can it wait until I’m done?” “No. It has to be now.” I had never used such a forceful tone with him before. It surprised even me. Liam stared for a moment, clearly taken aback by my uncharacteristic firmness. Finally, he said something to his teammates and sauntered over. “What’s up? You look so serious.” His tone was light, as if he had no idea what was coming. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “The entire school is calling me a parasite. Did you know?” He scratched his head, a flicker of awkwardness in his expression. “Oh, that. Yeah, I heard.” He heard? That was it? I stared at him in disbelief, waiting for an explanation, for a flash of anger on my behalf. But there was nothing. He just stood there, looking completely unconcerned. “You heard, and you didn’t do anything to stop it?” my voice began to tremble. “Stop what?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s just a nickname. Everyone gets a nickname in college.” He even managed a small laugh, as if it were truly insignificant. “My roommate’s nickname is ‘Pig-Head,’ and he doesn’t care.” “But this nickname is meant to humiliate me!” I almost shouted the words. “You’re overthinking it.” He patted my shoulder, a gesture so dismissive it sent a chill through me. “Sophia just likes to joke around. She doesn’t mean any harm.” No harm? I glanced over at Sophia. She was watching us, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. “Liam, do you really think calling me a parasite is just a joke?” My voice was a whisper, as if I were asking myself. He was losing patience. “Come on, stop making a big deal out of nothing. Besides,” he trailed off, “you do follow me around all day. It is… kind of like…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. Kind of like a parasite. In that moment, I felt something inside me shatter. It broke so completely that I knew it could never be put back together again. 3 From that day on, I started avoiding Liam. But the nickname had already spread through the campus like a virus. It had taken on a life of its own. In class, I’d hear whispers behind my back. “That’s her, the Parasite.” At the library, someone would say loudly, “Wow, even parasites can read.” Even the woman at the campus store would give me a strange look, as if I were something unclean. But the worst part was the dorm. My roommates, who had once been friendly, began to distance themselves. At first, it was subtle—they just stopped talking to me. Then it became blatant. They stopped inviting me to meals. They stopped sharing snacks. Even borrowing a phone charger became an ordeal. “I’m using it.” “It’s dead.” “Someone else borrowed it.” Always an excuse. One evening, I came back late. As I pushed the door open, I heard them talking on the balcony. “Does Ava really use Liam’s money for everything?” “Probably. Why else would Sophia call her a parasite?” “She’s so poor. Where does she get money for tuition and living expenses?” “Liam, obviously.” “No wonder she can afford to live near his family. So that’s how.” “So shameless. If I were her, I’d be too embarrassed to show my face.” I stood in the doorway, my hand frozen on the knob. They saw me, and the conversation died. They scattered back to their desks as if nothing had happened. No one asked where I had been. No one cared that I had heard everything. It was as if I were invisible. Lying in bed, tears streamed silently into my pillow. They didn’t know I lived near Liam because the little house was left to me by my grandmother. “Ava, honey,” she’d told me, “it’s not much, but it’s a roof over your head. A place to weather the storms.” They didn’t know that I never spent a cent of Liam’s money. I kept a small notebook, recording every breakfast, every campus card loan, every small expense he covered for me. The first thing I did when I got paid from my part-time job was try to pay him back. He would always refuse. “Why are you keeping track? We’re family.” I thought it was because he cared. Now, I wondered if it was just because he couldn’t be bothered. But it didn’t matter anymore. In everyone’s eyes, I was the parasite living off a man. The truth was irrelevant. They only believed what they wanted to believe. 4 I tried to defend myself. In one of my classes, we were assigned a group project. When it was time to form groups, a strange silence fell over the room. Everyone else was pairing up, but a perfect, empty circle formed around me. I was an outcast. I mustered my courage and approached a girl who seemed friendly. “Hi, can I join your group?” She looked away, flustered. “Sorry, our group is full.” I counted. There were only three of them. “I have really good grades,” I pleaded, trying to prove my worth. “I was third in our major last semester.” A boy nearby snorted. “What good are a parasite’s grades? Liam probably did all the work for her.” The classroom erupted in laughter. The sound was like a thousand needles piercing my skin. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. That’s when Sophia’s gentle voice cut through the noise. She had drifted over, her face a mask of perfect sympathy. “Everyone, don’t be so hard on Ava. It’s… not easy for her.” She paused, a smirk touching her lips. “After all, not everyone has the talent to be supported by Liam for so many years. That’s a skill in itself, you know.” The whole class roared. Finally, the professor, looking annoyed, stepped in. “Ava, you can join group three.” The members of that group looked horrified, but they didn’t dare object. Throughout the entire discussion, they ignored me completely. My suggestions were met with silence. The research I’d compiled was pushed aside without a glance. Eventually, I gave up and just sat there, watching them, feeling more invisible than ever. No, worse than invisible. I was a nuisance. A parasite. 5 Things escalated a week later. “Ava,” one of my roommates said one morning, her voice dripping with glee, “you should check the campus message board. You’re famous.” My heart sank. I opened the forum on my phone. The top post was titled: ‘Exposing the True Face of the Management School’s Parasite.’ It had over ten thousand views and hundreds of replies. My fingers trembled as I clicked on it. The post chronicled in vicious detail how I “latched onto” Liam, how I “shamelessly” spent his money. Every action was twisted, every moment maliciously reinterpreted. There were photos. A picture of us eating together was captioned, “The Parasite gets a free meal.” A photo of him bringing me breakfast when I was sick was labeled, “The bloodsucking continues.” A picture of me working at my part-time job was framed as me “playing the victim to gain sympathy.” The comments were a cesspool. So disgusting. Has she no self-respect? If I were her, I’d have already killed myself from shame. Liam is so unlucky to be stuck with a leech like her. Someone should kick the Parasite out of our school! Then it got worse. They started doxxing me. My high school, my home address, even a photo of my late grandmother. So she’s an orphan with no parents. No wonder she’s so shameless. My blood ran cold. I shakily called Liam. The phone rang for a long time before he picked up. “Liam, did you see the post on the forum?” My voice was barely a whisper. “Yeah, I saw it,” he said, his tone chillingly calm. “And… you’re not going to do anything?” “Do what?” He sounded tired. “Ava, do you really think anyone will believe me if I try to clear your name now? They’ll just think you forced me to.” “But it’s the truth!” “The truth?” He laughed, a cold, empty sound. “The truth is, you are always with me. You do use my things. I can’t control how other people see it.” I gripped the phone. “So you’re just going to let them humiliate me?” “It’s not humiliation, it’s just a post,” he said, his tone infuriatingly dismissive. “It’ll blow over. Why are you getting so worked up about something online?” “Just lay low for a while.” The line went dead. I stared at the black screen, at my own pale, reflected face. So this was it. My reputation, my dignity—none of it was worth him saying a single word. Our entire childhood together was this cheap. My heart didn’t just break. It turned to ash. 6 The bullying bled from the virtual world into reality. Vicious notes started appearing on my desk. PARASITE GET OUT. SHAMELESS BITCH. STAY AWAY FROM LIAM. My books were vandalized. My favorite textbook, filled with a semester’s worth of notes, was soaked in ink. My homework was torn out of my notebook. I was forced to accept a zero. The isolation was absolute. No one would speak to me. No one would sit with me. If I sat at a table in the dining hall, everyone else would immediately get up and leave. I would sit there alone, surrounded by whispers, forcing down food that tasted like cardboard, my tears silently seasoning my rice. I started skipping classes. But the dorm was no sanctuary. The harassment from my roommates grew bolder. They used my shampoo, ate my food, and one day, they threw my bedding into the hallway. “Parasites belong outside,” the ringleader sneered, as the others laughed. I stood in the hallway, clutching my soiled comforter, as people walked by, staring. No one helped. No one said a word. That night, I crouched in the hallway and cried until my throat was raw and my eyes were swollen shut. I wanted to call Liam. My thumb hovered over his name, but I couldn’t press it. What would be the point? He would just tell me it was a joke. He would just tell me I was overthinking it. He would just tell me it would all blow over. But how long did I have to wait? A month? A year? A lifetime?

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Everyone knew Alistair Vance, New York’s ruthless tycoon, adored his late wife. After her fatal crash, his hair turned white overnight—and his relationship with his son soured into hatred. When he finally agreed to remarry, I was a candidate. While others served gourmet dishes, I offered Gorgonzola-stuffed olives. While they played concertos, I did Tai Chi. And when asked about Alistair? “You have a mole on your left butt cheek.” That night, I was chosen. Alistair pressed a gun to my temple. “Who sent you?” I glanced sideways—where his dead wife’s ghost was shrieking: “That’s impossible! My intel was perfect!” Lies. She’d also called him “a softie underneath.” 1 The moment the cold barrel of the gun pressed against my temple, I’ll admit it: I was terrified. “Wait!” I cried, shamelessly kneeling on the marble floor. “Mr. Vance, you’ve got the wrong idea!” Alistair tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. His wrist twitched, and the gun pressed harder against my skin. “The wrong idea?” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “I’ve clawed my way to the top of this city for decades. Do you really think you can play me for a fool?” I nervously wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead, daring to glance up at him. His features were sharp, his presence overwhelming. He was a handsome man, but in a way that made you afraid to look him in the eye. Forty years old and he held the city in the palm of his hand. He was right; you couldn’t fool a man like him. Alistair paused, then abruptly pulled the gun away. He took a cigarette from a case on the table and lit it with a casual flick. He took a long drag, exhaling slowly, as if lost in a memory. “You knew what Eleanor and I ate on our first date. You knew her favorite exercise. And you knew…” His voice turned sharp. “It must have taken quite an effort to dig all that up.” “I’ll give you three minutes to tell me everything. Otherwise, I have ways of making you talk.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I was beginning to realize he was far more dangerous than I had imagined. A wave of regret washed over me for ever taking this job. My eyes flickered to the side again, unable to help it. Alistair couldn’t see her, but the ghost of a woman dead for ten years was zipping back and forth in a frenzy. She kept muttering to herself. “This shouldn’t be happening, how could this happen?” “I know what I told you was right! Alistair loves gorgonzola, and he always loved watching me do my Tai Chi…” “So what went wrong?” The problem, lady, is that a normal person wouldn’t know about the mole on his left ass cheek! It was my own fault for being an idiot and just repeating everything she told me. The second the words left my mouth, I knew I’d screwed up. The ghost, Eleanor, floated over to me, offering an awkward smile. “Don’t worry, honey. Let me think. Maybe he’s just trying to scare you.” Scare me? I turned my head just in time to see Alistair calmly load a fresh clip into the gun. Thump— I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around his legs. “Mr. Vance, I have a secret.” 2 I have a secret. I’ve been able to see ghosts since I was a child. After going through the whole cycle of terror, fear, breakdowns, and despair, I finally came to accept it. I even learned to ignore them, to treat them like they weren’t there. Until a month ago, when this ghost named Eleanor started haunting me. “Sweetie, you can see me? Oh, that’s wonderful! Can you do me a favor?” “Why are you ignoring me? Honey, sweetie, helloooo…” “You’re the only one who can help me, I’m begging you. If you help me, I’ll give you ten million dollars.” That’s when I couldn’t pretend anymore. I snapped my head around. “How much!?” “Ten million!” Seeing me waver, Eleanor floated closer, her voice a seductive whisper. “Really, it’s just a small favor. I just need you to go check on my husband and my son. Ever since I died, their relationship has gotten worse and worse. They’re practically enemies now. Just go to my house and help me with a few little things.” I hesitated. She quickly added, “My husband is a wonderful man. He looks a little cold, but he’s kind and gentle, and very easy to manage.” “Don’t be afraid, sweetie. I’ll be there to help you.” “Before I died, I hid a bank card. It was my secret little slush fund. If you agree to help, I’ll give it to you!” “It has exactly ten million, one hundred twenty-five thousand, three hundred and forty-four dollars in it!” Damn. She remembered it down to the dollar. It had to be real. I was tempted. Insanely tempted. I’m Zara Thorne, the second daughter of the Thorne family. But despite the title, I was treated worse than the maids. I’m the illegitimate one, the family disgrace. I was desperate to escape that house, to leave the country, to study abroad—but all of that required money. After thinking it over and over, I gritted my teeth and agreed. 3 And now I was regretting it. Deeply. Clinging to Alistair’s leg, I said, “Mr. Vance, the truth is… your wife has been speaking to me in my dreams.” It was better to say she came to me in dreams than to say I could see ghosts. Both were absurd, but the former was slightly more believable. Alistair froze, his eyes cast downward as he seemed to consider this. Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, his hand shot out and clamped around my neck. “You’re a liar,” he hissed. “If she could appear in dreams, why wouldn’t she come to mine?” His grip was crushing. I couldn’t breathe. My face started to turn red as the air was squeezed from my lungs. Eleanor yelped in terror and started spinning around me. “What do I do, what do I do? Why is Alistair like this?” I clawed at his hand, forcing the words out one by one. “Because. She. Still. Blames. You.” Alistair’s pupils contracted. His hand went slack. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. I collapsed to the floor, coughing violently until I could breathe again. Looking up at him, I repeated, “Because she still blames you.” “You know exactly how she died, don’t you? You had a fight. She ran out of the house in anger, and that’s when the accident happened.” “If you had just given in, just for a moment, she might never have died at all.” “Mr. Vance, your wife is still angry with you. That’s why she won’t enter your dreams.” For a moment, the cold, hard mask on Alistair’s face shattered. His expression became a storm of conflicting emotions. Doubt. Regret. Guilt. They warred across his features. The veins on the hand holding the gun bulged, and his breathing grew ragged. Terrified, I scooted away, praying he wouldn’t accidentally pull the trigger. Alistair stood frozen like that for several minutes. Then, all at once, the tension drained out of him. His spine, once ramrod straight, seemed to curve. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I deserve it,” he muttered to himself. Then, looking like a man lost in a daze, he turned and walked out of the room. I heard the family’s butler, Mr. Davies, ask, “Sir, what should we do with the young lady?” “Find a guest room for her.” “Very good, sir.” 4 Lying on the soft bed in the guest room, I was trembling with the aftershock of my near-death experience. Eleanor, however, was still muttering beside me. “I don’t actually blame him. He looks so sad. It makes me sad, too.” I was speechless. “Lady, if I hadn’t said that, I’d be dead right now!” “I know, I’m not blaming you. It’s just… I feel a little sad.” “…” Fine. The longer a ghost sticks around, the fuzzier their brain gets. I could understand. I ignored her and fell asleep. When I woke up, the fear had subsided. I saw her floating by the window, a lonely, translucent figure. I felt a pang of pity for her. I spoke up. “Hey, you never told me. What were you and Alistair fighting about that night?” Eleanor paused, her expression turning melancholic. “It was because…” BANG— A loud crash echoed from downstairs. It sounded like the front door had been slammed open. Then, a boy’s raw voice, spitting the foulest, most vicious words. “Alistair Vance! You dare bring another woman into this house! How dare you! Do you have any respect for my mother’s memory?!” “Come out! Are you too much of a coward to face me?!” “Alistair! You spineless bastard!” Ah. The little terror of the Vance family was home. Eleanor had told me her son was only seven when she died. Ten years had passed. Now he was seventeen, the prime age for rebellion. And it was common knowledge throughout the city that this father and son did not get along. While my mind was racing, I heard frantic footsteps pounding up the stairs. They stopped right outside my door, followed by a series of violent kicks. “Is that woman hiding in here?! Get the hell out!” The butler tried to intervene. “Young Master, the lady inside is a guest!” “Guest my ass! She’s another one of Alistair’s little whores!” Hey! This kid had a seriously foul mouth. Furious, I jumped out of bed, strode to the door, and yanked it open. I glared at him. “What do you want?” After a few seconds of a staring contest with Rowan Vance, I suddenly realized how much he looked like his father. The nose, the mouth—they were practically identical. But his eyes were softer, more like Eleanor’s. His handsome face, however, couldn’t hide the fact that he was a spoiled brat. Rowan gave me a disdainful once-over. Then he sneered. “Someone like you thinks you can just walk into my house? Get lost.” Rage churned in my stomach. Eleanor floated over. “Oh, my baby boy is so big now.” “He’s so cute.” I rolled my eyes. Before I could even form a sarcastic thought, I heard her next words. “Honey, slap him.” I froze for a second, then a wicked thrill shot through me. I raised my hand and smacked Rowan right across his handsome face. SMACK— Rowan’s head snapped to the side. He was completely stunned. He turned back to me, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You hit me?!” The butler’s face darkened. “Miss Thorne, while you may be a guest, I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to strike the young master.” “You fucking bitch, you hit me!” Rowan exploded, lunging at me like a wild animal, his expression promising to tear me limb from limb. Mr. Davies, fearing things would escalate, grabbed him around the waist. “Young Master, please, calm down!” I stumbled back a few steps. I glanced at Eleanor and whispered, “Okay, what’s next?” Eleanor: “Huh?” I scowled. “What’s the plan after the slap? You didn’t think this through before you told me to hit him, did you?” The ghost just stared at me blankly. I rolled my eyes so hard I almost passed out. I’d been played again! The commotion was so loud it finally brought Alistair out. “What is going on?” The moment his voice rang out, Rowan froze. He shook off the butler’s grip and turned to his father, his eyes red. Well, half his face was red, too. Alistair saw his son’s cheek, and his own face instantly darkened. Rowan’s voice was filled with hate. “Alistair Vance, you’re a real piece of work. The anniversary of my mother’s death is in two days, and you choose now to bring this woman home and let her hit me… Aren’t you afraid my mother is watching you from heaven?” Alistair’s gaze shot toward me like a dagger. “You hit him?” “Who gave you the nerve?!” Rowan scoffed. “Why are you pretending? As if she’d dare to touch me in this house without your permission.” All three of them—father, son, and butler—were now staring at me. I blinked once, twice, then collapsed onto the floor. “Oh, my. What happened? I think I was dreaming. Wait, wasn’t I asleep? Why am I on the floor?” “Why… why are you all here? And what happened to this handsome young man’s face? Why is it all red?” Rowan looked at me with disgust. “What the hell are you playing at?” I shook my head, feigning confusion. Then my eyes lit up, and I scrambled over to Alistair’s side. “Oh, Mr. Vance! I just dreamed about your wife again!” Alistair’s gaze was ice-cold. It was clear he didn’t believe me anymore. I swallowed hard and continued my bullshit. “It’s true.” I pointed to the windowsill. “In the dream, she was leaning on the windowsill, looking at the flowers. She said the rosebush in the courtyard was a birthday gift she planted for the young master on his fifth birthday.” “She looked so sad. She said her son has gone astray, and if she had the chance, she’d really like to discipline him. She even asked if she could borrow my body for a bit. I got scared, and that’s when I woke up.” “Young Master Vance, please don’t tell me I actually hit you?! Oh god, I didn’t mean to, I think I was possessed…” As soon as I said that, all three men froze. Alistair instinctively glanced at the butler. Mr. Davies quickly said, “Sir, I assure you, I have said nothing.” But Rowan was getting agitated, focusing on the wrong thing. “What are you talking about? How did you know about the roses? Who told you?!” He paused, his eyes narrowing at his father. “Did you tell her? What right do you have to talk to her about my mother?” “Alistair Vance, my mother must have been blind to ever fall for you!” SMACK— The other cheek got a slap, too. This one from his father. The air in the hallway instantly froze. Even Eleanor stopped flying around, staring blankly at her son. Rowan touched his face, but instead of getting angry, he laughed. The look he gave his father was terrifying. It was like he’d snapped. He shoved the butler aside and ran down the stairs. “Sir, it’s raining outside! The young master is furious. If he runs out like this, something bad could happen!” “Then go find him!” The butler looked conflicted. “If you don’t go, sir, I’m afraid we won’t be able to bring him back. You know his temper. What if he gets hurt…” Alistair closed his eyes, his chest heaving. Before he left with the butler, he gave me a long, unreadable look. I immediately bowed and scraped. “I’ll be good and stay put, Mr. Vance. Don’t you worry.” 5 God, they were insane! This father and son were both completely nuts! This place was dangerous. I had to leave. In a matter of seconds, I made up my mind. I turned to Eleanor. “What exactly is the favor you need? Spit it out. I’m doing it, and then I’m gone.” Eleanor looked downcast. She sat on the windowsill, gazing at the roses in the courtyard. The rain was beating them down, a pitiful sight. “I originally wanted you to help mend their relationship…” What? An abstract task like that? No way I could help. I was about to refuse when she continued, “But I never realized things had gotten this bad. Asking you to help with this… it’s really asking too much.” Good, she understood. “So, you…” “I don’t know,” Eleanor said. “I’m a little lost myself now. I don’t know what else we can do.” I flopped onto the bed. Whatever. I’d just take it one step at a time. I had finally realized that I was stuck with a completely unreliable ghost. This ten million was not going to be easy to earn. I couldn’t sleep, so I turned to talk to her. “You still haven’t told me. What did you and Mr. Vance really fight about back then?” Eleanor floated over and lay down beside me. Her presence was chilly, but I didn’t mind. I was ready for the tea. Her pale, thin lips parted. “I… don’t remember.” Me: “…” What a waste of my emotions. Time for sleep! I wasn’t too mad about not getting the gossip. I knew that’s how it was with ghosts. The longer they wandered the earth, the more their memories faded. The first things to go were the memories of their death and the time leading up to it. “I’m sorry, sweetie. You should get some sleep.” Eleanor didn’t need to sleep. Bored, she floated out to wander around the house. A little while later, she came back. Seeing I was still awake, she crouched beside me and started humming a soft tune. I paused. “What’s that song?” “Just something I made up. I used to sing it to Rowan to help him sleep. Is it bothering you?” “No.” I buried my head in the pillow. “It’s beautiful. Can you sing it again?” “Of course.” I grew up in an orphanage and was only recently taken in by the Thorne family, where I was met with nothing but scorn. I’d never experienced something as comforting as being sung to sleep. To think that one day, a ghost I barely knew would be the one to give me that… It was a strange feeling. Drifting off to Eleanor’s gentle melody, I finally fell asleep.

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Cresthaven’s infamous ‘Reaper’, Jim McAvoy, had one weakness—Nina Reed. I was his light, his redemption. For me, he traded bloodstained clothes for tailored suits, dismantled his empire, became a philanthropist. “Purifying myself for you is a pleasure,” he’d say. I believed him. Defied my family, married him. For five years, he worshipped me—the feared crime lord cooked for me, knelt to wash my feet, revered my parents. When my father was accused of manslaughter, Jim hired top lawyers. But at trial, the key witness vanished. Father was convicted. As the sentence was read, Jim stood and applauded. I found the witness. She slapped me: “Your husband threatened my parents! I had no choice!” Jim appeared behind me, calm: “Sylvie’s brother is dead. Someone had to pay. Your father’s sentence is light—let it go.” 1. “Your father is only going to prison for a few years. Let’s just leave it at that.” I never thought I would hear those words from Jim McAvoy’s lips. Just last night, he’d held me, murmuring reassurances that justice would prevail. Now, he was the one who had sent my father to prison. I stumbled, whirling around to grab the collar of his shirt. When I spoke, my voice was a raw, broken rasp. “Why? Jim, why would you do this?” He pried my fingers from his shirt, his grip firm but his eyes empty of emotion. “I told you. Your father killed a man. He has to pay for it.” “But you know it was self-defense! If he hadn’t fought back, the one who died would have been…” “That’s not important, Nina. I promised Sylvie I would protect her. Her life can’t have a single stain on it.” I stared up at his handsome, unconcerned face. “So you’re saying my father’s life… isn’t important?” My voice cracked. “You say Sylvie’s life can’t be stained, but what about me? What about my father? How are we supposed to wash away the stain on us?” Jim’s brow furrowed. “You don’t need to. You’re my wife. Who would dare say a word against you? When your father gets out, if he wants, I’ll send him and your mother to live out their days abroad.” A bitter laugh escaped me, followed by a sudden torrent of tears. “So, for the rest of our lives, we’re just supposed to depend on you, live according to your arrangements?” A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. “Nina, you need to learn to be sensible.” “This case is closed.” Sensible? I wrenched my hand from his, my heart filled with scorn. “And if I’m not?” His gaze darkened, becoming a bottomless, black pit. “You know that without a witness, you can appeal a hundred times and the result will be the same.” He leaned in, his lips close to my ear, but his eyes drifted to a point behind me. “And Nina… you wouldn’t want anyone else to die because of you, would you?” My pupils dilated. I spun around. The witness girl stood there, her face ashen, her lower lip bitten raw. I knew. After today, she would never testify for my father again. “You’re a monster, Jim.” All my love curdled into a cold lump of disappointment in my chest. My shoulders slumped, and I dragged my heavy body away. At the end of the courthouse alley, Sylvie Threlfall was waiting, wrapped in Jim’s overcoat. When she saw me, her eyes were like poison-tipped daggers. “You’re just going to leave?” she sneered. “Shouldn’t the murderer’s daughter be at my brother’s memorial, begging for forgiveness on her knees?” I smirked. “Murderer? If my father hadn’t been there, your brother would be a rapist. And you… you’re nothing but a homewrecking…” Before I could finish, a hand clamped over my mouth from behind. It was Jim. “Nina, Sylvie is right,” he said, his voice cold. “Someone from your family needs to beg for forgiveness. If it’s not you, it’ll have to be your mother.” I turned my head to look at him, trying to understand how the man who once swore he loved me could become so hideous. The year I met Jim, I was a college student teaching dance part-time. One night, he was cornered in an alley by his enemies, a lone figure against twenty men. Anyone else would have run or died. But Jim McAvoy wasn’t anyone else. He’d earned his title as Cresthaven’s Reaper with his own two hands. He took them all down. When he emerged from the alley, bleeding from a dozen wounds, he simply leaned against a lamppost and lit a cigarette. As he looked up, the warm, yellow light from a second-story window across the street spilled onto the pavement. In that frame of light, a girl was dancing. That girl was me. That, Jim had said, was how I danced my way into his heart and became his eternal guiding light. He said I looked like a fairy, an otherworldly sprite. When he first pursued me, I was terrified. I gave him a thousand reasons to leave me alone. I told him I only liked gentle, refined men, and he was too coarse. So he hired a private tutor, the same one who trained flight attendants, to teach him etiquette. I told him I hated violence and wanted a quiet life. So he dissolved his criminal network, became a legitimate businessman, and dedicated himself to charity. Everyone in Cresthaven said he was madly in love with me. That anything involving Nina Reed was the one thing that could make the Reaper bare his fangs again. And now this man, for another woman, had turned my father into a murderer and was forcing me to kneel before a predator’s memory. The car pulled up to the funeral home. A bodyguard dragged me out and threw me inside. When Sylvie’s family saw me, they swarmed, their faces contorted with rage. Jim only frowned slightly. Sylvie saw it and raised an eyebrow at him. “Her father killed my brother. It’s only fair my family gets to let off some steam. Surely Mr. McAvoy won’t mind?” Jim said nothing. He didn’t move. And so I was swallowed by Sylvie’s relatives. They slapped my face, kicked my stomach, tore at my clothes, and yanked my hair. One man’s grimy hands roamed over my body, a vile, invasive touch. I couldn’t bear it. I screamed Jim’s name. “Jim, no matter what, I am still your wife!” He frowned again, but before he could speak, Sylvie cut in smoothly. “Alright, that’s enough. Jim brought her here today to repent to my brother. Let’s show him some respect.” The crowd parted, revealing me in my battered, disheveled state. Sylvie’s eyes glinted with mockery as she pointed to her brother’s open casket. “Nina Reed. I want you to kneel before my brother and admit that you are the daughter of a murderer. And then, I want you to apologize.” I clutched my torn clothes, my voice ice. “In your dreams. I will never admit my father is a murderer.” The words had barely left my mouth when Jim’s tall frame appeared beside me. “Do as she says. Otherwise, I’ll have to call your mother.” My nails dug into my palms. I looked up at him, my eyes red-rimmed. “Jim, do you really have to be so cruel?” He looked down at me, and his next words sent a chill through my entire body. “They’re just words, Nina. It’s not that serious. Sylvie wants to hear them, so you’ll say them for her.” “If you insist on being this stubborn, I’ll have to use… other methods to train you. And you know I have a thousand ways, ten thousand ways, to make you obey.” Yes. How could I forget? He was the Reaper. Even if I refused, he had a million ways to break me. Psychological, physical. It would be one thing if he used them on me. But if he used them on my mother… on my father… I couldn’t bear the thought. I closed my eyes, helpless. After a long, agonizing struggle, I unclenched my bleeding fists and surrendered. “Fine. I’ll say it.” I crawled on my hands and knees to the casket, each word a sob. “I… am the daughter of a murderer. I am here to apologize to Mr. Brandon Threlfall. I am so sorry.” Sylvie, however, was not satisfied. “Miss Reed, don’t you know a proper apology requires a bow to show sincerity? And your voice is far too quiet.” I trembled, humiliation forcing me to grit my teeth. As if punishing myself, I raised my head and slammed my forehead to the ground. “I AM THE DAUGHTER OF A MURDERER. I AM HERE TO APOLOGIZE TO MR. BRANDON THRELFALL. I AM SO SORRY!” Blood bloomed on my forehead, streaming down my face. Jim’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly. I lifted my head and stared straight at Sylvie. “Is that enough?” My reckless abandon seemed to startle her family. They tugged at her sleeve. Sylvie just lifted her chin, her expression arrogant. “Barely.” I scrambled to my feet, unsteady. Jim’s hand shot out to support me, but I slapped it away. “Don’t touch me,” I spat. “You disgust me.” His face darkened with sudden rage. He grabbed my wrist, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “What did you say? Say it again. I dare you.” I met his gaze, my voice clear and deliberate, each word a shard of ice. “I. Said. You. Disgust. Me.” Jim looked as if he’d been struck. He abruptly let go of my wrist. This time, I didn’t look back. I strode out of that funeral home and didn’t stop. I never imagined they would film what happened in that funeral home. Overnight, the video went viral. Tabloid vultures spun their own narratives, claiming my father had knowingly broken the law and was trying to hide behind a self-defense claim. Others whispered that my father and the so-called victim had some illicit relationship—why else would his own daughter be so willing to confess? The shame and anger made my mother collapse. But even if we covered our ears and closed our eyes, we couldn’t escape the deluge of insults. “If your father sees this, how heartbroken will he be?” she worried, her face etched with sorrow after she woke. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know how to explain myself. The next day, my father found out anyway. He tried to kill himself in prison. When we got the news, my mother and I raced to the hospital. But when we arrived, the ambulance carrying my father was parked outside, barred from entering. Blood was still seeping from the wound on his neck. I was frantic. “Why isn’t he being taken inside?” I demanded. The paramedic looked at me, his face a mask of helpless frustration. “I heard Mr. McAvoy’s… girlfriend’s cat was in an accident. It’s being treated in the ER. Mr. McAvoy gave the order: until the cat is stable, no other critical patients are to be admitted.” It felt like a fever dream, so absurd, so twisted. “This is a hospital, not a veterinary clinic! How can you let them do this?” No one answered me. Even the prison guard accompanying us sighed. “You’re the family. Maybe you should try another hospital?” The doctor, who was still applying pressure to my father’s wound, shook his head. “The nearest one is ten minutes away. We don’t have that kind of time.” My breath caught. I turned to get out of the ambulance. “I’ll go. I’ll beg Jim to let my father in.” But as I turned, my father’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. He gripped it tightly, and the heart monitor beside him began to beep erratically. I scrambled back to his side. “Dad, don’t get agitated. I’ll save you, I promise. Please, just hold on.” My father’s eyes fluttered open. He raised a trembling hand to my cheek. His lips moved behind the oxygen mask, trying desperately to tell me something. The doctor reached over and removed the mask. “He’s not going to make it. If you have anything to say, say it now.” My ears started ringing. The doctor and the guard stepped out of the ambulance, leaving us alone. My mother, her face deathly pale, leaned in close, her voice choked with grief. “What is it, dear? I’m listening.” My father’s voice was faint, as if coming from a great distance, yet every word was crystal clear. “Don’t be sad. And don’t… don’t beg him. This was my choice. I found my own peace.” “Nina, I don’t want you to appeal. I just want you and your mother to be safe. Nothing is more important than the two of you.” “My love,” he said to my mother, “make that call. Take Nina and leave Cresthaven.” “Yes, yes, I will,” my mother sobbed, clutching his hand. “Good. Then I can… I can rest…” A long, piercing beep filled the air. My father’s hand went limp in hers. I snatched it back, holding on for dear life, as if my grip alone could keep him from leaving me. The silence in the ambulance was suffocating. A tidal wave of grief crashed over my mother and me, drowning us completely. After what felt like an eternity, my mother let out a shuddering breath. She took my hand, her trembling voice laced with a newfound strength. “Nina. Let’s take your father home.” The kind ambulance driver took us to a crematorium. After I signed the necessary papers, my mother and I oversaw my father’s cremation. When we returned home with the urn, my mother handed me a phone number. “Nina. This is the number for your grandfather’s old commander. You make the call.” I held the slip of paper, the rage in my heart impossible to suppress. My father’s last words… it was clear he had been threatened, coerced into taking his own life. Was I really supposed to just run away? But one look at my mother’s frail shoulders and swollen, red eyes, and I dialed the number. I couldn’t let her be endangered because of me. No matter how much I wanted to fight, I had to get her to safety first. The call was answered immediately by a stern, authoritative voice. After a brief explanation, he told me he would send someone to pick us up the next day. I hung up and sat with my mother before my father’s makeshift memorial all night. At dawn, we took his ashes to choose a burial plot. We had intended to bury him next to my grandmother. But in a cruel twist of fate, the plot next to hers was already occupied. By Brandon Threlfall.

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1 “How long has it been since we were last together?” I asked James casually over dinner. “What, you want a baby now?” He glanced up, his eyes flicking over my face before returning to the cod on his plate. “Weren’t you the one who said you didn’t want one?” “So the only reason for me to be with you is to have a child?” I was three years older than James. The year his family fell from grace, his mother gravely ill, when he was on the verge of selling himself to raise money, I was the one who stepped in. He broke up with his girlfriend and married me, becoming a live-in son-in-law to the prestigious Reed family. But in five years of marriage, the number of nights we’d actually shared a bed could be counted on one hand. It wasn’t until recently, when I learned that his ex-girlfriend had become his new secretary, that the pieces finally clicked into place. Some things, I realized, simply couldn’t be forced. I sat up straighter. “Can we tonight?” James finally looked at me properly. “What is wrong with you?” I glanced at his phone on the table, a constant stream of notifications lighting up the screen. I smiled and looked down at my plate. “Maybe… we should get a divorce.” A flicker of something—shock, perhaps—crossed James’s face. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a half-mocking smile. “Because I won’t sleep with you, you want a divorce?” “What new game are you playing now, Miss Reed?” I wiped my mouth and poured us both a glass of red wine. The dark liquid swirled in the glass, its intoxicating aroma the perfect catalyst for primal desires. “The last time was… New Year’s Eve last year, wasn’t it?” I took a small sip, my voice a low murmur. “It was snowing that night, too. We had a little wine.” “I bought a new nightgown. You even said I looked…” “Avery,” James cut me off. “Are you finished? I’ll clear the table.” Before I could answer, he was on his feet, gathering my dishes. He was always so considerate. Ever since he married me, even after he became a successful CEO, he would still cook for me whenever he had the time. Mundane chores like washing dishes and cleaning were his domain when he was home. He never used a dishwasher, preferring to do it all by hand. I gestured to his phone with my chin. “Busy?” He shook his head. “Just the work group chat.” And just like that, he’d brushed aside my mention of divorce as if I’d merely asked if he liked the dinner. Normally, I would have let his coldness slide. But not tonight. “I heard you hired a new secretary,” I said, taking another sip of wine. He didn’t stop his cleaning. “Did Walter tell you?” Walter was the driver my family had assigned to him. I didn’t answer, just pressed on. “Is there anything you want to tell me?” “About what? You already know everything.” His tone was tinged with a faint, biting sarcasm. “I hadn’t seen Laura’s resume before it landed on my desk. My assistant, Ryan, handled the final interview. I trust his professional judgment. And I’m not going to ruin someone’s career just because she’s an ‘ex-girlfriend,’ am I?” He always had a reason, a perfectly logical, high-minded explanation. I could never win an argument against him. For all these years, except for those rare, unguarded moments in bed, James was always restrained, always polite. Sometimes I wondered why he’d agreed to marry me in the first place. Was it just out of gratitude? I was too afraid to ask, terrified of the answer that would surely break my heart. I watched him now, his back slightly bent over the sink, so close and yet so far away. He was the person I was supposed to be most intimate with in the world, yet I felt as if I’d never truly possessed him. I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “So, why not tonight?” “They say when a man doesn’t eat at home, it’s because he’s already full from eating out.” I was desperate to stir something, anything, in this stagnant pool of a marriage. “Or are you saying you think I’m too old?” James’s brow furrowed. He pried my hands from his waist. “Don’t mess around. I have a video conference later.” Rejected again. “What if I said, if you don’t sleep with me, we get a divorce?” I persisted, determined to drop a boulder into this placid lake. I pulled his shirt from his trousers, my hand about to venture lower when he grabbed it. He spun me around, trapping me against the counter. He looked down at me. “Avery, don’t push me.” His voice was so calm it sent a shiver down my spine. “I know my place. You don’t have to keep testing me. But don’t push me. Some things… they just won’t work.” The one thing I was too scared to ask, he had to say it out loud. It just won’t work. I’d said something similar to my father once, when he’d tried to set me up with some family friend. What was it I’d said? “There’s no spark. You can’t force a spark.” See? Who said we weren’t a good match? We even thought the same way. I smiled up at him, my vision blurring. “Okay. I understand.” Before the tears could fall, I pushed him away and went to the bedroom. My phone still held the photo I’d received hours earlier. It was old and faded, but I recognized the young James instantly, and the sweet-faced girl nestled beside him, Laura. He was smiling so beautifully. A pity he never smiled at me like that. “What do you think your chances are now?” the message had read. I took a deep breath and typed back furiously. “I’ve already won. I’m his wife!” I was his wife. But… so what? He didn’t love me. My best friend, a lawyer, quickly drafted a divorce agreement for me. When she handed it to me, her face was a picture of disbelief. “Are you serious? James?” “You practically went to war with your father for him. You’ve had a few good years, and now you’re telling me you want a divorce?” She waggled a finger in my face. “Did he cheat on you?” “Don’t tell me you have some terminal illness.” “Hey!” I cut her off. “Don’t jinx me.” “Then what is it? You have to tell me! You have no idea how hard it’s been holding this in since you called!” I took the agreement and scanned it quickly. “Yep, this is perfect. You’re the best.” She suddenly shrieked. “Tell me! Why are you doing this? Wait, no, are you kidding me? You think this agreement is ‘perfect’?!” She looked like she was about to jump on the table. “Avery Reed, get a grip!” “What about the division of assets? I was waiting for you to ask me about that! Do you have any idea what his company is worth now? And you’re just asking for the money you lent him back, plus a little interest?” “Are you running a charity, Miss Reed? What about all the connections and resources your family gave him? If your father finds out about this, he’ll break your legs!” I knew. Never make a losing deal. It was our family’s motto. But a deal requires both parties to be willing. “I don’t need the money. I didn’t help him for financial gain.” “Bullshit! If you weren’t after something, why did you propose marriage? And at his lowest point! We all said it back then, you Reed women are born business sharks.” I gave a wry smile. I couldn’t blame them for thinking that. When James’s family ran into trouble, he and Laura were about to graduate and go abroad together. His father was accused of corruption after retirement, and his mother was in a car accident, the medical bills a bottomless pit. It was as if all the bad luck in the world had conspired to drag the golden boy down into the mud. And that was when Laura had abandoned him and left the country alone. I had seen the way he loved her, with a fierce, all-consuming passion. When he looked at her, there was a fire in his eyes that left no room for anyone else. So yes, I was despicable. I had extended a hand to him at his most vulnerable moment. “So, will you marry me?” Thinking back, it wasn’t just taking advantage of his situation; it was preying on it. “You’re right. I made a great deal.” “And now… my conscience is catching up with me. I’m setting him free.” My friend looked at me skeptically. “Does your family know?” My father and my brother… they probably wouldn’t object. A few years ago, they were the ones trying to set me up with other men. “Young Mr. Carter is younger than James, why don’t you meet him?” or “The eldest son of the Lees just opened a new branch, and he’s still single.” But in recent years, they’d gone quiet. Maybe because I was getting older, or maybe because James’s company was getting bigger and bigger. They’d stopped trying to persuade me to divorce him. Everything seemed to be getting better. But me… I couldn’t go on. “Wouldn’t they be happy?” I shook my head and signed my name. “Divorce?!” I hadn’t expected to be met with such a storm of fury when I got home. My father sat in his study, silent and grim-faced. My older brother had smashed a glass. “I knew it!” he raged. “I knew that James was a calculating snake! Now that he’s made it, he’s just going to toss you aside! What a classic case of biting the hand that feeds him! Fine! Just fine!” I was confused, but I frowned. “Brother, don’t say that. It was me who…” “You’re still defending him!” My brother wouldn’t listen. “Do you have any idea what he’s been doing?” “He’s been systematically devouring our family’s business empire!” “I knew something was off this past year! It was that bastard, sabotaging me behind my back! I really underestimated him!” “And now he wants a divorce? You call that anything but betrayal?” “Fine! Divorce him! But make him give you his company in exchange!” As my brother ranted, I finally understood. I looked at my father, who had been silent until now. He finally looked up at me. “We always thought of him as family. We let him have some business deals. But this time… the Westside project we’ve been preparing for over six months… he went straight to our competitor and snatched the bid right out from under us. The losses are significant.” “Avery,” my father sighed, “you’ve been sleeping with a wolf.” “It’s better to cut ties now,” he added, his voice weary. “You’re still young. You can find someone else. It’s just that now… Dad can’t help you much.” So this was it. This was my punishment. My punishment for taking advantage of a man at his lowest point. I don’t remember how I left the house. I just remember my sister-in-law holding my hand, telling me not to worry, that the family’s foundation was still strong, but that James had been acting unscrupulously for years. When I came to my senses, I was standing outside his office building. My friend had said she couldn’t reach him, so I’d decided to come in person. But what I was going to say, I hadn’t figured out yet. I had just come to deliver a divorce agreement. But now… should I confront him? Ask him what he’d thought of me all these years? A ladder to the top? Or a target for revenge, unworthy of sympathy? “Mr. Croft is in a meeting.” I wasn’t surprised to run into Laura first. She looked more mature than I remembered, tall and slender in a well-tailored business suit. When her gentle eyes swept over the folder in my hand, a barely perceptible smile touched her lips. “If it’s urgent, I can pass the documents on to him for you.” None of the cocky swagger from her earlier texts remained. “No, thank you. I’ll wait for him.” “The meeting might take a while,” Laura explained patiently. “Mr. Croft has been extremely busy lately, juggling several major projects at once. He barely has time to eat.” “Or, when he’s finished, I can have him call you back?” Very professional, very composed. James was right. She was a good secretary. And they… they did look good together. “Take me to his office. I’ll wait there.” I was still, nominally, the boss’s wife. She had no reason to stop me. The smile on Laura’s face faded slightly. She gave a small bow and led me to his office. I’d been to James’s office a few times. It was always neat and tidy, a reflection of his minimalist style. But this time, there were a few new potted plants, and a high-end eye massager on his desk. “Mr. Croft gets eye strain easily, so I got these for him,” Laura explained with a smile, expertly brewing me a cup of tea. I nodded. Of course. It made sense. But why did my heart still ache with such a bitter pang? I could imagine that if I confronted James, as I had in the past, he would just say he hadn’t noticed. Besides, I no longer had the right to question him. But in that moment, an impulse took over. Just as Laura was about to leave, I stopped her. “Why did you leave back then?” “And why did you come back?” The faint scent of tea hung in the air, mingling with the perfume on Laura’s skin and the office’s own fragrance, becoming indistinguishable. Silence stretched between us. “If it hadn’t been for my circumstances, James and I would have been married long ago. We were planning to get engaged the year we graduated.” Laura’s voice had lost its professional veneer. “If I hadn’t left, you would never have had the chance to get close to him, let alone marry him.” “Shouldn’t you be grateful to me?” Laura turned to face me, tears welling in her eyes. Then, she let out a small, sharp laugh. “I came back, of course, to see if the so-called ‘unforgettable love’ really held that much weight.” “And what did you find?” I asked. But honestly, I didn’t really want to hear the answer. James chose that moment to walk in, just in time to see Laura’s unshed tears and my furrowed brow. “What are you doing here?” he asked me first. I placed the folder on his desk, about to speak. “Mr. Croft,” Laura cut in, her voice laced with a subtle note of grievance. “I told Mrs. Croft you were in a meeting, but she insisted on waiting… I’ll be leaving now.” She gave James a look that was both hesitant and meaningful. But his gaze was fixed on me, his expression as deep and unreadable as a still, dark well. I saw a flicker of confusion, then annoyance, in Laura’s eyes. Perhaps she didn’t know that James had changed a lot over the years too. He didn’t answer her. He just lowered his voice and asked me, “What is it?” Under his intense gaze, my throat suddenly felt dry. And with Laura still standing there, I felt like an intruder, a clown in someone else’s private circus. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words “divorce agreement” in front of them. I couldn’t bear to lose so completely. “You can look at it later.” Then, I fled from that suffocating office, James’s cold voice echoing behind me: “You. Come over here and close the door.” What would he say to her? Would he look at the divorce agreement right away? Would they embrace, celebrating their freedom from the domineering rich girl? Or would he ask her gently what grievances she had suffered at my hands? Blame me for bullying his one true love? But no matter what, he had gotten everything he wanted from me, from my family. Now that I was setting him free, we should be even, right? Miss Reed’s bank account had never been short of funds. But I transferred all the money I had saved over the years back to my family’s account. It was a drop in the ocean compared to the losses James had caused, but it made me feel a little better. I was the one who had brought the wolf into our home. I had to take some responsibility. I didn’t get a call from James. Instead, it was Walter. “Ma’am, Mr. Croft has had a bit too much to drink. He seems to be caught up with a group of people and can’t get away. Do you want to come and see?” I froze, then stood up instinctively, ready to leave. “Whose party is it?” I had only taken a few steps when I remembered I had already asked for a divorce. In my current position, it was probably inappropriate for me to show up. “I’m not sure. Sounds like a reunion with some old classmates.” “Ma’am, you should probably come quickly. My car just got into a fender-bender, and I’m dealing with the other driver right now. I can’t leave.” Before I could say anything, Walter hung up. I bit my lip and went anyway. The lights in the club’s corridor were a dizzying, strobing mess. It took me a while to find the private room Walter had mentioned. The heavy door was slightly ajar, and the voices from inside drifted out clearly. “James! Come on, one more drink!” “You’re really something else now! Out of all of us, you’re the most successful! CEO of a publicly traded company, your net worth must be through the roof!” “Yeah, James, you have to help us out in the future!” another voice chimed in, dripping with flattery. “Don’t forget about us, your old buddies!” “I won’t,” James’s voice finally came, deeper and a little slurred from the alcohol. After a brief silence, a sleazy voice spoke up again. “Man, James, you’ve got it all—career, love life… you’re the real winner here. A woman from the Reed family, wow.” His tone shifted, becoming deliberately wistful. “But you know, sometimes I think about it, and it’s such a shame.” “Back in the day, you and Laura, you were the perfect couple! Everyone in our class was so jealous. If it weren’t for…” He trailed off, but the unspoken words hung in the air like a heavy stone. The noise in the room seemed to die down. Everyone was waiting, holding their breath, to see how James would react. Including me, outside the door. My heart clenched, my nails digging into my palms. Then, another voice, feigning innocence, picked up the thread. “What are you talking about? James’s doing great now.” “But hey, Laura’s here today too! Laura, come on, tell us, what really happened back then? You two were so good together, how did you suddenly…” So, Laura was there too. Her voice, soft and melodious, filled the silence, laced with just the right amount of plaintiveness and helplessness. “What’s the point of bringing up the past?” “My family was going through a difficult time. I had to leave. Some people… are just luckier than me. Let’s not talk about it.” Someone immediately piped up, “Don’t be too sad, Laura. James’s family was in trouble back then, it was a tough time. And some people, well, you know, they take advantage of a situation! Such clever tactics! But now you’re back, and James’s doing well. It’s the perfect opportunity for you two to get back together.” “What are you guys talking about!” Laura protested quickly, but her voice was full of a poorly concealed shyness. Taking advantage of a situation. Getting back together. Blood rushed to my head, then receded just as quickly, leaving me ice-cold. The light filtering through the crack in the door warped before my eyes. What was I doing here? Right. I was supposed to be picking James up. But this door in front of me felt like a ghost from five years ago, a portal to a past I didn’t belong to. What right did I, an outsider, have to push it open? I took a step back, then another, until I was swallowed by the shadows of the hallway. The door clicked open. It was Laura, helping a stumbling James out. “You’re drunk. Let me take you home,” she murmured, her voice a soft caress, her face so close to his. James gently pushed her away. “I’m fine. You go on home.” He leaned against the wall, but his unsteady steps betrayed him. I knew his tolerance for alcohol. He was very drunk. I took an involuntary step forward. And then, Laura threw herself into his arms. “James, James,” she whispered, her voice a seductive thread in the dim, swirling lights of the corridor, trapping all three of us in a frozen tableau. “I’m back, James. Look at me.” “I had to leave back then. You can blame me all you want, but you can’t just ignore me.” “All these years, I’ve never forgotten you.” “You let me stay by your side, so you must not have forgotten me either, right?” James slowly lifted his head. I practically fled. But the club’s corridors were a dark, twisting labyrinth that seemed to have no end. After several wrong turns, just as I was about to ask a server for directions, a hand grabbed me from behind and pulled me into an embrace. “Who is it?” I struggled, turning around. And came face to face with him.

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The day my family went bankrupt, I was sold. Sent to the Hawthorne estate to settle a debt. And it was Caleb Hawthorne, the youngest son with a penchant for serpents, who claimed me. Every night, he’d bring one of his cold, slithering pets into my room. He’d let it coil around my ankle, ignoring my tears and pleas to take it away. Beyond that, however, my life was a gilded dream. I was admired, envied, and showered with gifts. But then, another girl arrived at the Hawthorne estate, another debt to be paid. Because she was afraid of snakes, Caleb killed his favorite pet without a second thought. Staring at the pool of blood on the floor, I knew. His little songbird was about to be replaced. Coincidentally, my three-year term was up. And so, cradling a barely-there bump, I slipped away from the Hawthorne estate, and from him. 1 To be honest, I was happy when I heard the family was bankrupt. My father had eight daughters. I was the eighth. All seven of my older sisters had been married off in strategic alliances, their partners chosen not by them, but by our father. Some were wed to divorced magnates with children, others to men thirty years their senior. Each of my sisters was as beautiful as a flower in bloom, and every single one of them was miserable. My father had arranged a match for me, too. My intended was a horrifying cocktail of all my brothers-in-law’s worst traits: old, ugly, divorced, and with a kid in tow. I only caught a glimpse of him from a distance, and the sight was enough to make me gag. Marrying him, I thought, would be a death sentence by starvation. I’d never be able to eat again, not with that face across the table. When my father heard I refused, he had me strung up and whipped, then locked away. He’d dealt with rebellious daughters before; he had a well-practiced method. Just as I was sinking into despair, his company hit the rocks. And the cherry on top? Not a single one of his wealthy, powerful sons-in-law lifted a finger to help. My father was finally, gloriously, bankrupt. I practically sent a thank-you card to the universe. I thought I’d escaped my fate, that the threat of a forced marriage was gone forever. I should have known my father’s shamelessness knew no bounds. If he couldn’t marry me off, he’d sell me off. 2 Stepping into the Hawthorne mansion, I felt like a lamb to the slaughter. My father had whispered his plan to me: “The Hawthornes have three sons. Just get one of them to take an interest in you.” If none of them did, I’d be passed along to the next creditor on his list. By then, I had no illusions left about love or marriage. I figured it was better to be in the hands of one man than passed around like a party favor. As long as the Hawthorne sons weren’t like my former fiancé—fifty-six years old, a hundred and sixty kilos, and a hundred and sixty centimeters tall—I could live with it. But the Hawthornes were a different breed. Mr. Hawthorne, the patriarch, rejected my father’s offer with righteous indignation. “We are a respectable family. Don’t try to pull these sordid tricks with us.” And just like that, my father and I were unceremoniously thrown out. As we stood on the curb, he was already muttering a list of other names—the Jacksons, the Williamses, the Browns… Suddenly, a low whistle cut through the air. A man appeared before me. A sharp jawline, high-arched brows, and a mess of dark hair falling over his forehead. The legs in those black joggers seemed to go on longer than my life expectancy. The moment our eyes met, a single thought flashed through my mind: This must be my cosmic reward for having to look at so many ugly men. But then my gaze sharpened, and my pupils constricted. Coiled around his arm was a silver snake. Not a toy. A real, living snake, as thick as a baby’s arm. Its black, beady eyes were fixed on me, its forked tongue flicking the air. I’ve been terrified of cold-blooded creatures my entire life. A chill shot up my spine, making my scalp tingle. Just as I was about to stumble backward, I heard my father’s voice, dripping with deference. “Mr. Caleb.” I knew of Caleb Hawthorne, the third and youngest son. In a family known for its rigid discipline, he was the wild card. Reckless and untamed since childhood, his only known passion was for his collection of snakes. He had no women in his life, only serpents. Yet, his grandfather doted on him, entrusting him with a significant portion of the family empire. Caleb ignored my father. He just lifted his chin in my direction, his voice a lazy drawl. “You scared of snakes?” Terrified. Mortally terrified. But I fought the urge to retreat, forcing a harmless, innocent smile onto my face. “Not at all.” A smirk played on his lips. He didn’t seem to believe me. Then, he raised his arm, extending the snake toward me. “Then pet him.” 3 Every cell in my body screamed in protest, but I couldn’t afford to defy Caleb Hawthorne. Compared to the other repulsive options, this handsome, young man was a godsend. Gritting my teeth, I cautiously reached out my hand. The silver snake stretched its head forward, its cold scales making unexpected contact with my palm. It was cool, smooth, and utterly horrifying. Oh God, I want to cry. This is horrible. But I kept my smile plastered on my face, looked Caleb in the eye, and forced out a lie. “Wow… the… the texture. It’s… exquisite.” The words had barely left my mouth when the snake, for reasons unknown, suddenly lunged, its mouth wide open as if to bite me. I shrieked, my hand jerking back. I couldn’t stop myself from stumbling three steps away. My lie was exposed in the most blatant way possible. I braced myself for Caleb’s mockery, but he just watched me with an amused, knowing look. “What’s your name?” “Chloe. Chloe Bell.” “You want to be with me?” “Huh?” My eyes went wide with shock. By the time I’d processed his question, my father and Caleb had already struck a deal. He was handing me over to Caleb for three years to settle a thirty-million-dollar debt. It was a terrible bargain for my father, but a miraculous one for me. And surprisingly, Caleb agreed. He gave a nonchalant nod. “Sure. Deal.” 4 That same evening, I was moved into Caleb’s private villa. He came into my room after his shower, wearing a white, V-neck silk pajama top that left a wide expanse of his chest bare. His dark hair was still damp, and droplets of water traced paths down his tanned skin, disappearing beneath the hem of his shirt. I pressed myself against the wall, my lips pursed nervously. “What’s this? Standing in the corner for punishment?” he scoffed, grabbing a towel from his shoulder to dry his hair. “If you’re not comfortable sleeping in my bed, you can pick another room. There are sixteen of them. Take your pick.” My eyes lit up instantly. I couldn’t believe how considerate he was. As I was about to nod, a playful smirk curled his lips. “Of course, the other fifteen are all snake habitats. Each with anywhere from five to twenty of them. So, you might want to think carefully about your choice.” I froze, the words catching in my throat. “N-no, that’s okay. This room… this room is just fine.” He closed the door, leaving the two of us alone in our pajamas. Even though Caleb was undeniably attractive, and I knew what was expected of a girl in my position, I was still terrified. My entire knowledge of sex came from romance novels; I had zero real-world experience. Caleb pulled back the covers and slid into bed, patting the empty space beside him. “You coming over here on your own, or do I have to carry you?” I hesitated for a moment before slowly inching my way to the edge of the bed. The rumors all said that the infamous Caleb Hawthorne only loved his snakes and had no interest in women. I didn’t exactly look like a snake, so he probably wouldn’t be interested in me, right? With that thought, I cautiously slipped under the covers, leaving enough space between us for three more people. Caleb shot me a look loaded with meaning. Then, as if suddenly feeling warm, he lifted the hem of his shirt to fan himself, revealing a perfectly sculpted set of eight-pack abs. I glanced away immediately, my heart hammering. “Is the AC too high?” I asked, my voice small. “I can turn it down if you want.” Caleb didn’t answer. He just stared at me, his throat working as he swallowed, as if he were thirsty. I tried again, trying to be helpful. “Do you need me to get you some water?” His expression was a complex mix of emotions. Suddenly, he wasn’t thirsty anymore. He reached over, switched off the lamp, and turned his back to me to sleep. I breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed the rumors were true. He really wasn’t interested in women. He probably only took me in because he felt sorry for me, seeing my own father sell me off. I silently congratulated myself for landing with a good person who was just cold on the outside, and let myself drift off to sleep. Just as I was slipping into a deep slumber, a body pressed against me from behind. It was scorching hot. His voice was husky, but his words were sharp and to the point. “You want to do this?” 5 I take back everything I thought. Caleb Hawthorne was not a good person. He was a wicked, terrible man. I was too shy to refuse him, so he took my silence as an invitation, pressing forward until my resistance crumbled and I yielded. But that wasn’t the worst of it. He was also a pervert. What kind of decent person brings a snake into the bedroom during that? He brought one in, a twisted game of his. The snake’s forked tongue licked at my ankle, its cold scales slithering up my calf as Caleb’s hot breath tickled my ear, his teeth nibbling my earlobe. One hot, one cold, a combination designed to drive me mad. The first year with Caleb was a daily countdown, me scratching marks on the wall, waiting for the day I could escape him and his detestable snakes. By the second year, I discovered that darkness is contagious. After spending so long with a deviant, I’d become a little deviant myself. I was getting addicted to the feeling. By the third year, I started to think that maybe, just maybe, being with Caleb wasn’t so bad after all. He was loyal. Apart from me, there were no other women. He granted my every wish, showering me with the finest things money could buy. I had diamonds the size of pigeon eggs, pounds of gold bars, and a walk-in closet overflowing with designer bags. Everyone knew how much Caleb Hawthorne valued me. They saw me as the future Mrs. Hawthorne. Even my father, when he saw me, would bow and scrape, his old arrogance gone. I was living a life of luxury and praise. And I believed Caleb loved me. In those moments of passion, when he’d tremble and whisper my name, his eyes reflected only me. So when the three-year contract ended, he didn’t mention it, and neither did I. The day I found out I was pregnant, I was thrilled. I couldn’t wait to share the news with him. But as fate would have it, that was the first night in three years that Caleb didn’t come home. The next day, I found out why. The Hawthornes had taken in a new girl to settle another debt. 6 When I went looking for Caleb, he was at the main family estate. The butler told me the new girl’s name was Lily Song. She was stunningly beautiful, a delicate, innocent flower. She was supposed to be given to the Hawthornes, but the young master of the Blackwood family had also taken a liking to her. So Caleb and Mason Blackwood had fought over her. The winner would get the girl. Caleb had won. But as he approached Lily, the snake he had with him that day grew agitated and slithered onto her. It wrapped itself around her neck, its forked tongue flicking out, brushing against her cheek as it moved. The poor girl had never seen anything like it. Her eyes filled with tears, and she started to sob in terror. By the time I arrived, the snake was already dead. Its head was severed from its body, a dark pool of blood spreading around it on the floor. I froze. Caleb loved his snakes. He treated them like his children, giving each one a name. He cherished them, never letting anyone else touch them. Someone had once offered him two million dollars for one of his snakes, and he’d refused. After spending so much time around those cold, silent creatures, even I had developed a strange affection for them. I never imagined Caleb would ever kill one of his snakes. Especially not to soothe a crying girl. I pressed my lips together and looked toward the living room of the estate. Caleb was inside, leaning casually against a window, arms crossed, a lazy smile on his lips as he chatted with Lily. She looked up at him, a fragile figure with long hair dancing in the breeze. For a fleeting moment, she looked just like I did three years ago. I was standing right at the entrance. If Caleb had just turned his head, he would have seen me. But he was too engrossed, his gaze never wavering from her. I suddenly remembered how distant Caleb had been these past two months. He had incredible stamina; in the past, he could go for hours without tiring, three or four times a night being the norm. But lately, he’d been perfunctory, finishing after just one or two rounds. The signs of his boredom had been there all along. But then again, what did I expect? A man of his status and background wasn’t going to tie his heart to one woman. The fact that he’d stayed with me for three years was a testament to my own charm, I suppose. I looked down at my still-flat stomach. I’d been so excited to tell him about our baby. Now, it seemed, there was no point. I turned away without a second glance and rushed back to the villa. Breaking up with Caleb was one thing, but the gifts he’d given me were mine. I was taking every last one. I immediately contacted a broker to sell the gold and began listing the bags and jewelry online. In about a week, my bank account would have a cool nine-figure balance. Thinking about it, I collapsed onto the bed, a wave of relief washing over me. I just had to get through this week. The door opened, and the bed dipped beside me. A familiar arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into Caleb’s embrace. I stiffened. “What are you doing back?” Shouldn’t he be with Lily tonight? Caleb propped himself up on one arm, his other hand already unbuttoning his shirt. “This is my house. Where else would I be?” With that, he captured my chin, his lips descending on mine, stealing the air from my lungs. Remembering what I’d seen at the estate, I turned my head away, making up an excuse. “Don’t. You’re all sweaty today. You feel gross.” “So demanding,” he chuckled, playfully tapping my nose. He shrugged off his shirt, revealing his lean, muscular torso. “Fine. I’ll go shower.” He took two steps toward the bathroom, then paused. As if remembering something, he turned back, scooped me up into his arms, and declared, “We’ll shower together.” What? The bathroom was steamy, the sound of dripping water echoing off the tiles. Caleb’s gaze landed on me, his eyes darkening with desire. His kisses were a relentless storm, leaving me breathless and clinging to him just to stay upright. But then, to my surprise, just as we reached the point of no return, Caleb let me go. “Be a good girl and go out first, kitten. I’ll join you after I’m done.” I was stunned for a moment, but then understanding dawned. A man’s energy is finite. Now that he had a new favorite, he couldn’t very well waste it on his old one. Out with the old, in with the new. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the day, but a dull ache began to throb in my lower abdomen. I pulled out my phone and started searching for clinics, planning to schedule an abortion for as soon as I left town. A long time passed, and Caleb still hadn’t come out of the bathroom. I had no idea what he was doing in there. I was so tired I drifted off to sleep, my phone still clutched in my hand, its screen lit up. I was shaken awake by Caleb. He had pulled me into his arms and was staring at me with a knowing, half-smiling expression that made my stomach clench with guilt. “W-what is it?” He tilted his head, studying me. “Kitten, is there something you want to tell me?” I was completely baffled. “No?” “Really?” His fingertips trailed down from my shoulder, coming to rest on my lower stomach, where they drew a slow, deliberate circle. My eyes flickered to my phone on the nightstand, and a terrible premonition washed over me. Did he see my search history? Does he know? I looked at him, stammering, his expression unreadable. In that moment, my mind raced, desperately trying to invent a plausible excuse for my clinic research. “I… I was just…” “Are you short on cash?” he asked suddenly. My words died in my throat. I stared at him, confused. “The guy from the designer resale shop just called. Said you’re trying to sell off all the bags I gave you.” “Explain,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Why are you selling everything?” Oh, it’s about that. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and quickly spun a lie. “They’re all last season’s styles. They’re just taking up space. I figured I might as well sell them.” Caleb was sharp. He honed in on the key point. “So the old bags are out of season. Then we’ll buy new ones.” “I’ll have my assistant buy every new design from this season’s collection tomorrow. You can pick whatever you like.” Just as I was about to relax, Caleb added casually, “Kitten, why do you keep glancing at your phone when you talk to me? Is there some dark secret in there?” “Let me see?” My blood ran cold. I immediately tore my gaze from the phone and threw my arms around his neck, nuzzling the small mole by his nose. I softened my voice, making it sweet and seductive. “What secrets could I possibly have from you?” The silver snake, which had been draped over his shoulder, chose that moment to flick its tail around my waist, pulling me flush against his hard abdomen. He let out a contented hum. “Relax. I’m not going to check your phone. I trust you that much.” He added, “And I know you wouldn’t dare do anything to cross me.” I nodded vigorously. He was right. Quietly skipping town hardly counted as crossing him, did it? Just one more week, and I would be saying goodbye to Caleb Hawthorne forever. But I had severely underestimated how perceptive the Hawthornes could be. 7 It was the old Mr. Hawthorne’s birthday, and Caleb had to return to the family estate for the celebration. In previous years, it was always a private family affair, and I was never invited. But this was his grandfather’s eightieth, a grand banquet, and Caleb insisted I accompany him. An event like this required a formal gown. Caleb had bought me many, but they were inconvenient for a quick getaway, so I’d already sold them at a discount on the secondhand market. Only one remained—a wine-red dress that hadn’t found a buyer. It was from a time when I was much thinner, and the waist was incredibly tight. Squeezing into it was a struggle, and it made my lower abdomen bulge slightly. I consciously sucked in my stomach, terrified Caleb would notice. Everything was going fine until the toasts. A group of children, roughhousing, came running in our direction, on a direct collision course with my belly. I instinctively took a step back, forgetting to hold my breath. Caleb’s little niece ran right up to me, placing her small hand on my stomach. “Auntie Chloe,” she asked in her sweet, childish voice, “your tummy used to be flat. Why is it poofy now?” Caleb’s hand, holding his wine glass, froze. His gaze dropped to my stomach. It was too late to suck it in now; it would be too obvious. I bent down slightly and explained to the little girl, “Because the food at the party is so delicious, Auntie ate a lot and got a food baby.” But the little girl shook her head, her expression serious. “No, it’s not.” “Auntie, you have a baby in your tummy.” A hush fell over the nearby tables. All eyes turned to us. As if to make sure everyone heard, her voice rose to a near-shout. “It’s true! I’m not lying! There’s a baby moving in Auntie’s tummy! It just kicked my hand!” Panic flared in my chest, but I kept a pleasant smile on my face. “There’s no baby in Auntie’s tummy,” I cooed. “When you eat a lot of food, your tummy has to work to digest it. Of course it’s going to move around.” The little girl was about to argue further, but thankfully her mother swooped in and whisked her away. The excuse was plausible enough. I thought I’d managed to smooth things over, but when I turned back, I found Caleb studying me with a thoughtful, penetrating gaze. “Kitten, if I remember correctly, you haven’t had your period in three months, have you?” My funds were secured. I was leaving tomorrow. I couldn’t let things fall apart now. I forced myself to remain calm, nodding nonchalantly. “That’s right. You know my cycle has always been irregular.” Fearing another question would expose everything, I faked a small hiccup. “Wow, I’m so full. I need to go for a walk to digest.” Caleb couldn’t join me. A line of people was waiting to toast him, and he had to work the room. I wandered alone in the estate’s sprawling gardens. As I walked, my eyes were drawn to a lit window on the third floor of the main house. It was a wing that had always been empty before, but tonight it was brightly illuminated. Two maids carrying trays of food were walking and chatting. “Mr. Caleb is so attentive to that Miss Song. He’s worried she’ll be hungry, so he’s having all her favorite dishes sent up.” “And for someone as busy as him, he even remembered she’s allergic to seafood. He specifically told the kitchen not to use any.” “With the new girl here, I guess Miss Bell is on her way out, huh?” “Probably. That Song girl is only nineteen, a blank slate, easy to mold. Miss Bell is twenty-two now. Mr. Caleb has had her for years; he must be bored by now.” I stood hidden behind a large sycamore tree. They didn’t see me as they continued their conversation, heading towards the third floor. I sniffled, a strange sense of melancholy washing over me. Caleb didn’t even try to hide his affections. Even the staff could see he had a new girl in his heart. A voice cut through the silence from behind me. “Miss Bell. Since Caleb has a new favorite, why don’t you consider coming with me?”

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The tour bus carrying my mother-in-law and son overturned on a winding mountain road. The entire vehicle was caught on a tree, dangling precariously over a cliff, ready to plummet at any moment. My husband, Mark, was the captain of the nearest rescue squad. But when the police called for aid, they discovered he’d taken his entire team off-duty to attend his old flame’s son’s school competition. In my last life, I had to beg a friend to physically drag him from that school to save our family. But because his old flame’s son didn’t win first place, she felt humiliated and cut ties with him completely. Mark was also fired from the rescue squad for his dereliction of duty. After my mother-in-law and son were discharged from the hospital, he tied me and my friend up and threw us from that same cliff. “If it weren’t for you,” he’d screamed, “I wouldn’t have lost everything!” This time, his old flame’s son won his first-place trophy. But this time, Mark would never smile again. 1 The piercing wail of sirens sliced through the air. A sharp, urgent rapping on my car window startled me. “Ma’am, have you called for rescue?” A jolt shot through me. I turned, staring blankly at the scene before me, the chaos slowly registering. It took a moment to realize what had happened. I had been reborn. In my previous life, my mother-in-law had forgotten her scarf and called for me to bring it to her. By the time I arrived, the tour bus had already left. She told me to just follow them in my car. Then, chaos. I never knew what happened, but the bus ahead of me suddenly swerved, lost control, and plunged off the side of the mountain. I had frantically called my husband, Mark, but he’d hung up on me with an irritated sigh. I’d then called the official emergency line, only to be told that Mark had taken his entire squad off the clock to attend an event at his old flame Evelyn’s son’s school. The police officer’s voice pulled me back to the present. My hand tightened on my phone. The phantom pain of my own bones shattering on the rocks below still lingered. Seeing my stunned silence, the officer must have thought I was in shock. He pulled out his own phone and made the call right in front of me. He received the exact same answer I had in my past life. Just then, my phone rang, a desperate, tinny sound. It was my mother-in-law. “Claire! You have to save me and Leo! My battery is about to die! Call Mark, tell him to come save us!” The officer leaned in. “You have family on that bus?” “Yes,” I said, my voice shaking. “My mother-in-law and my son. My husband is Mark, the captain of the local rescue squad.” “Then call him! Now! We’ll contact other units in the meantime.” I dialed Mark’s number, the officer watching me intently. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. His voice, the one I had come to despise, crackled through the speaker. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me? I’m cheering for Zac right now!” “Mark, the bus Mom and Leo were on went off a cliff,” I said, my voice tight with urgency. “It’s caught on a tree, but it won’t hold for long. You have to come now!” Suddenly, another voice took over the line—Evelyn’s. “Claire, please, have a heart. Zac doesn’t have a father. It means so much to him to have Mark and his team here, cheering him on. Please don’t make him leave. I don’t want to ruin this for my son.” She continued, her voice taking on a martyred tone. “I know you’ve always been insecure about our past, but I promised you I would never interfere with your family. You don’t have to lie like this to get him to leave. If it makes you feel better, I’ll never contact him again after today.” Her voice broke into a sob. Mark snatched the phone back, his voice thick with rage. “You’d use my own mother and son to lie? Are you even human, Claire? The more you act like this, the less I ever want to come back to that house! I’m warning you, don’t bother me again today!” He was about to hang up when the officer took the phone from my hand. “This is Officer Miller with the Westbrook Police Department. Your wife is not lying. The situation here is critical. I’ve already contacted your squad’s dispatch, and they confirmed your entire unit is off-site. I need you and your team back here immediately. There are thirty-four lives hanging in the balance!” But the phone only erupted in a chorus of jeers from Mark’s men. “Who is this guy?” one of them slurred. “I know people at Westbrook PD. Never heard of an Officer Miller.” “Yeah, Captain’s on a pretty short leash at home,” another chimed in. “Can’t you give the guy a break? And making up a story is one thing, but why call the squad? You trying to get us all in trouble?” Even Officer Miller’s face flushed with anger at their blatant disrespect. I leaned in and whispered to him, “Please, just call another unit. That bus doesn’t have much time.” In my last life, they hadn’t believed me either. The school was close, so I had called my friend Nathan, who worked nearby. He had rushed over and found the principal, forcing Mark and his team to return. But in the end, that act of kindness had only gotten both of us killed. This time, I wouldn’t drag an innocent person down with me. But Mark had overheard my whisper. His voice turned venomous. “Enough, Claire! Who else are you going to drag into this? I know every firefighter and rescue worker in a fifty-mile radius. You dare call any of them, and I swear, I’ll show you what happens to liars!” 2 He slammed the phone down. Officer Miller was livid. “I don’t believe this. Does this guy think he’s some kind of king, that a mere squad captain can just ignore a direct order?” He started furiously dialing numbers on his own phone. I sighed. The sad truth was, Mark did have that kind of influence. He’d worked at nearly every fire station in the area. He could never get promoted, so he’d finally jumped ship when the new rescue squad offered him a captaincy right out of the gate. “It’s better to call a team from further away,” I urged. “We’re running out of time.” I knew from my past life that the bus, including rescue time, had held on for exactly forty minutes before it fell. Even with Mark’s team arriving relatively quickly back then, half the passengers had still plunged to their deaths. They could have saved everyone. But because his mother and son were at the back of the bus, he’d recklessly focused on them first. His actions unbalanced the vehicle, snapping a crucial branch and accelerating its fall. This time, even without his interference, the bus had an hour at most. A team from the next county would take about forty minutes to get here. It was tight, but at least some lives could be saved. As if on cue, my phone rang again. It was Kevin, one of Mark’s former colleagues and a frequent dinner guest at our house. “Claire, you’re putting me in a tough spot,” he said, his voice wheedling. “You and Mark shouldn’t let your little fights get this big.” “Dispatch just assigned us the call, and then Mark called me personally. You know, filing a false police report is a serious offense. You’re wasting emergency resources.” Officer Miller snatched the phone, furious. “I am the one who called dispatch. This is Officer Miller from the Westbrook PD—” Kevin cut him off. “Yeah, yeah, save it. Mark told me about you. There’s no Miller at Westbrook. Tell Claire to stop the theatrics. I’m doing her a favor here. I already had the alert cancelled for her.” 3 My mother-in-law called again. The background was filled with screams of terror. “Help us! Did you call Mark or not?” “I did, Mom. He’s not coming.” A torrent of abuse erupted from the phone. “You useless waste of space! I told Mark he never should have married you! You can’t even do one simple thing right!” Then, my son Leo’s voice, sharp and cruel. “Mom, why are you so useless? If Mommy Evelyn were here, she would have made Dad come save us by now!” Tears streamed down my face, hot and immediate. This was the family I had poured my heart and soul into maintaining. A husband who only had eyes for his old flame, a mother-in-law who despised my very existence, and a son—a son who had been turned against me, who called another woman ‘Mommy.’ My mother-in-law had always preferred Evelyn, the gentle, domestic type. I was a media executive, a career woman who had to network and meet clients. I couldn’t be like Evelyn, revolving my entire life around Mark. But for years, I was the one who paid for the house, the cars, every single expense. I made sure they had the best of everything, and in return, I received not a single shred of gratitude. I had wanted to make it work, to hold our family together. When my mother-in-law was bedridden after a surgery, I took a long leave of absence to be her full-time caregiver, handling everything from her meals to her bedpan. Her attitude had just started to soften when Evelyn reappeared with a son in tow. My mother-in-law not only rented an apartment for them in our neighborhood but also insisted they come to our house for meals every single day. Evelyn won my son over with junk food and cheap toys, turning him against me to the point where, for a long time, he called her ‘Mommy’ and referred to me only by my first name. Mark had taken our entire life savings and used it to buy Evelyn and her son a large house. “Don’t overthink it, Claire,” he’d said. “I owe this to her. As my wife, you should share this burden with me.” I was furious, but for the sake of a love I thought was real, for the memory of our first three happy years together, I had endured it. I never imagined my endurance would cost me my life. Suddenly, a rock flew through the air and struck my forehead. A warm trickle of blood ran down my face. Several other family members of the passengers had arrived, and they were throwing whatever they could find at me. “My mother is on that bus! She called me and said your husband is the rescue captain! Why isn’t he here?” “He has no right to abandon his post! This is negligent homicide! If my mom dies, I’ll make sure your whole family pays!” Clutching my bleeding head, I scrambled back into my car and tried to video call Mark. He declined it instantly and sent a text. “Stop your games! Do you want a divorce? Is that it?” Then, he blocked me. I tried his teammates. I tried Evelyn. One by one, I found myself blocked by all of them. I called my mother-in-law’s number again. It went straight to voicemail. Her phone was dead. It seems fate has made its decision, I thought, a cold resignation washing over me. I’ve done all I can. 4 The chaos outside intensified. Someone screamed, “It’s slipping! The bus is slipping! It’s not going to hold!” Despite the hatred churning in my gut, I couldn’t bear to watch all those innocent people die. I rushed out of the car and looked down at the horrifying scene. As a last resort, I called Nathan. Before I could even speak, his voice came through, urgent and breathless. “I’m almost there! I’ve got a chopper! Just hold on!” I was stunned, but he hung up before I could ask any questions. Moments later, a helicopter appeared in the distance, flying directly over the teetering bus. Nathan was the first one to rappel down, beginning the rescue. I could see his equipment wasn’t standard-issue, and someone in the helicopter was frantically giving him hand signals. But his presence was a beacon of hope for everyone. I heard my mother-in-law screaming from a window at the back of the bus. “Save me first! Are you deaf? I’m an old woman! Save me!” But I also heard the commander in the helicopter shouting to Nathan, “Follow my instructions, or you’ll send everyone plunging to their deaths!” The process was slow, but Nathan was calm and methodical, bringing people up one by one. We all stood on the roadside, holding our breath for him. Twenty minutes later, the roar of more helicopters filled the sky. The professional rescue teams had finally arrived. Tears of relief streamed down my face. The other families were embracing, sobbing with joy. “They’re saved! They’re saved!” I glanced at my phone. My heart lurched. There were only twenty minutes left before the bus would fall. In my past life, only two helicopters had come, and with Mark’s reckless interference, many hadn’t been saved. But this time, with so many rescuers, maybe twenty minutes would be enough. I stared at my phone, the timer on the screen a torturous countdown. With five minutes left, everyone had been rescued except for my mother-in-law and Leo, who were at the very back of the bus. A rescuer lowered a harness to them, instructing her to secure herself and Leo. But my mother-in-law threw a fit. “What kind of terrible service is this? You expect us to do it ourselves? Stop wasting time and get down here and strap us in! What if we do it wrong and fall? Will you take responsibility then?” The bus was tilted at such a precarious angle that the weight of one more person would send it over the edge. The rescuer pleaded with her, but she refused to listen, arguing relentlessly. As they argued, the countdown on my phone hit zero.

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