On my eighteenth birthday, my stepmother, Sharon, sent me a text. She demanded I return every single dollar of child support my father had given me over the years. If I didn’t, she was going to come to my school and make my life a living hell. I tried to be patient. [This is court-ordered child support from my father. If you have an issue with it, you need to talk to him.] That’s when she exploded. [You’re a fucking adult now, why the hell should you get my husband’s money! I swear, you’re just like your mother, a common whore!] [Give the money back now, or I’ll make sure you can’t even finish high school!] Reading her venomous words about my mother, I started shaking with rage. The patience was gone. I was done. [Fine,] I typed back, my fingers flying. [You want to come? Fucking try me.] 1 I stared at the word “whore,” my chest heaving with anger. I immediately screenshotted Sharon’s vile rant and forwarded it to my father. [Get your wife under control!] I added. [My mother has done nothing to you people. You’re the one who owes her. Who the hell does she think she is, calling my mom names?] Seconds after I hit send, my phone rang. It was my dad, Robert. But before I could even say hello, I heard Sharon’s hysterical screaming in the background. “You little bitch! How dare you tattle on me! I want my husband’s money back, and you have no right to refuse! That’s our joint marital property, and if you don’t return it, you can kiss your high school diploma goodbye!” Before I could get a word in, she snatched the phone and continued her tirade. “And I’m going to go to that whore mother of yours’ workplace! That job is all she has to support the two of you! Let’s see how high and mighty she acts when she’s unemployed!” My jaw clenched so hard it ached. I held the phone tight and spat back, “Fine, you psycho! Bring it on! You dare show your face at my mom’s job, and I swear, I’ll drop out of school just to go to your son’s and make sure every single person there knows his mother is nothing but a cheap tramp who slept her way into a marriage!” “You call my mom a whore? What does that make you? Something lower than the trash they sweep out of a brothel!” I had completely lost it. Sharon was stunned into silence, realizing I wasn’t the pushover she thought I was. “You just wait,” she snarled, before hanging up. My heart leaped into my throat. I was terrified the crazy woman would actually go after my mom. I grabbed my backpack and bolted out the door. I’d barely made it to the entrance of our apartment complex when my friend called. “Jessica, you need to get over here! It’s bad!” My mind went blank. I ran, sprinting like my life depended on it, all the way to my mom’s office. Before I could even push through the crowd that had gathered, I heard Sharon’s voice, amplified by a bullhorn. “Come on, everyone, take a good look! Get a nice, long look at this home-wrecking slut! This is the whore who uses her daughter to bleed my husband dry every single month, scamming and tricking us out of our hard-earned money!” Sharon stood in the center of the spectacle, holding my mom by the collar of her shirt like a helpless animal. My mom, her face flushed with shame, was trying to explain. “That’s not true!” Her eyes were red with desperation. “Sharon, please, don’t lie!” “You can say whatever you want about me,” my mom pleaded, “but you can’t slander my daughter!” “Oh, please!” Sharon spat, cutting her off. “Your little bitch was just demanding more money from my husband today! Don’t you dare deny it! Like mother, like daughter. A whore gives birth to a little whore. You’re both rotten to the core!” She was on a roll, slinging mud with wild abandon. “And another thing,” she bellowed into the bullhorn. “If you’re so desperate for cash, why don’t you just spread your legs and sell it? Stop playing the victim and teaching your bastard child to do the same! Who do you think you’re fooling?” My mom is a gentle person. She’s never won a fight in her life. If she had, she wouldn’t have been kicked to the curb with nothing the second my dad’s business took off, replaced by his mistress. Seeing my mom like that, so humiliated, my scalp tingled with rage. I wanted to tear Sharon to pieces. She could attack me all she wanted, but she was not allowed to touch my mom. I lunged forward to protect her. The moment Sharon saw me, she pointed a triumphant finger. “Well, well, well!” she crowed. “Look who it is! The little bastard has arrived!” She aimed the bullhorn at me. “Everyone, look! This is the one! She’s a legal adult, but she still finds ways to leech money off my husband every month. The little bit of money he manages to save isn’t even enough for our own family, and now he has to support her and her mother on the side!” “I ask you,” she cried, playing to the crowd, “could any of you tolerate this?” With a few twisted sentences, she had completely flipped the script. She painted my mom and me as the home-wrecker and the illegitimate child, tearing her happy family apart. The crowd immediately turned on us, their whispers turning into pointed accusations. “That girl looks so clean-cut. I can’t believe she’d do something like that! Ruining a family is a one-way ticket to hell!” “Exactly! And look at her daughter. She has a nasty look about her. The poor wife must have been pushed to her limit to make a scene like this.” “To think someone like that works right in my neighborhood… I’d better keep a closer eye on my husband. Who knows when a snake like that could slither in.” “I’m writing a complaint to her HR department this afternoon. There’s no way a mistress should be allowed to keep her job!” The words were like stones. My mom cared about two things in this world: her dignity, and me. Years ago, to avoid a messy public battle and to protect me, she had signed an unfair divorce agreement, leaving with nothing. She’d been raising me in a tiny rental apartment ever since. I saw every struggle, every sacrifice she made. And now, to see it all twisted by Sharon’s lies, I was about to explode. I started toward the women who were shouting the loudest, ready to fight, but my mom grabbed my arm. I turned and saw her eyes, red and swimming with tears. She shook her head. “Let it go, Jessica.” “The truth will speak for itself,” she whispered. My own tears threatened to spill. I wanted to scream that the world doesn’t work that way, that truth and dignity have to be fought for. But looking at her broken expression, I swallowed my anger. “Okay,” I agreed. My mom had suffered enough. I couldn’t let her endure this humiliation because of me. My surrender was a victory in Sharon’s eyes. She stood on her moral high ground, her voice booming with triumph. “Have you two decided?” she yelled. “If you have, then pay up!” She held up a bank statement. “My husband has spent almost ten thousand dollars on your daughter. I want every single cent back. If you don’t pay up, neither of you is leaving here today!” As if on cue, one of the onlookers chimed in. “You have no morals, and you’re teaching your daughter to be just as shameless! Pay the woman back!” “Yeah, ten thousand dollars! Do you know how long it takes a normal family to save that much? And you two just squandered it! Disgusting!” My mom’s policy was always to de-escalate, to let things go—unless it was about me. Hearing them call me shameless, she finally snapped back. “Don’t you talk about my daughter that way! She’s a good girl! She’s not what you say!” Unfortunately, she was no match for them. The woman just sneered. “If she’s so good, she should stop taking money from another woman’s husband.” “Exactly! A whore wanting a monument to her chastity. I’ve seen it all now!” “Oh, you have no idea,” Sharon said, seizing the moment. “This little brat has been walking all over me for years. I wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t pushed me too far.” Sharon took out her phone, held it to the bullhorn, and pressed play. My own furious, sharp voice filled the air. “…Something lower than the trash they sweep out of a brothel!” “You all heard that, didn’t you?” Sharon said, her voice trembling as if she were the victim. “That’s how she talks to me. If I don’t stand up for myself, I’m afraid she’ll be the death of me one day!” That did it. Even the few people who had been neutral now shot me looks of disgust. “Are all illegitimate kids this vicious now? That’s terrifying.” “What’s to be scared of? The law protects them. It gives these rats from the gutter all the power they need.” My mom, furious, tried to argue with them, but I held her back and shook my head. Her quiet arguments were no match for a rabid dog like Sharon. I looked straight at my stepmother. “You want money, is that it?” Sharon’s eyes lit up. “Spit it out!” “And,” she added, tilting her head back and looking down her nose at me, “you have to apologize.” “Get on your knees and apologize to me!” she commanded. “You’ve hurt me deeply. If you don’t beg for my forgiveness, this isn’t over!” Seeing her smug, triumphant face, I couldn’t help but smile. “Beg for your forgiveness?” I walked toward her. “Are you even worthy?” “You want money?” I said, enunciating every word. “There is no money.” “But if you want, you can ask my dad.” Before I left my apartment, I’d made a call. If she wanted a public spectacle, then I was going to make sure everyone knew the whole story. My mom might be a pushover, but I’m not. The day I found out Sharon destroyed my parents’ marriage, she became my lifelong enemy. And I never go into a fight unprepared. I pulled out my own phone, the screen already on a video call, and aimed it at Sharon. I looked at the screen and spoke to my best friend on the other end. “Where’s my dad?”

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My childhood best friend, Monica, looked like she belonged on a movie screen. The line of guys hoping to ask her out could’ve stretched around the block. One day, I asked her if I could cut in line. She rolled her eyes and told me I was nuts. “Alright, you think I’m nuts? Fine. From this moment on, Monica Dean, I’m going full-on psycho. I’m shutting down every guy who even thinks about you.” 1 From that day forward, whenever someone tried to confess their feelings to Monica, I would be there to “run interference.” I’d yell at the top of my lungs, “Monica Dean doesn’t shower for weeks at a time! And she has the worst case of athlete’s foot you’ve ever seen! The second she takes her shoes off, the stench could knock you out from a block away!” Every time I did this, Monica would fly into a rage, screaming, “Johnny Vance, you are so dead!” Monica and I were the definition of childhood sweethearts, having grown up side-by-side. She was the kid every parent compared their own to—not just stunningly beautiful, but brilliant in school, too. There was never a shortage of guys trying to win her over. The first thing she did every morning when she got to her desk was to sweep the pile of love-offering breakfasts into my arms. Thanks to the money I saved on food, I built up a pretty respectable comic book collection. Of course, I didn’t get all this for free. More often than not, I’d do her chores at home so she could have quiet time to study. Sometimes, I even took the beatings meant for her. Her father was a drunk and a misogynist who bitterly resented the fact that his wife, frail and in poor health, had only managed to give him a daughter. Having another child, a son, was out of the question. Because of this, he’d beat her mother when he was drunk. Even when he was sober, he’d find excuses to lash out at them. His favorite line was that his life was cursed, that he’d married a woman with a “useless womb” who gave him a “worthless girl,” making him a laughingstock. Monica had a stubborn streak. Every time he said it, she’d fire back. She’d say her mom was the best mom in the world, and she wasn’t worthless. The man standing in front of them, the one who beat his wife and daughter, he was the most pathetic, useless man on earth. And every time she said it, she’d get a brutal beating. Her mother would always tell her to just endure it, that he’d be better once the alcohol wore off. But Monica refused to back down, wiping away tears as she cried, “Mom, you’ve put up with this for years! Has he ever changed? Has he ever gotten better?” One time, her dad pulled off his belt and came at Monica. I saw it happen and rushed forward, wrapping my arms around his legs. I screamed for Monica to run. But she just stood there, refusing to move. “I’m not running,” she said. “If he has the guts, let him kill me.” Her dad cursed at me, telling me to let go or he’d beat me too. But I held on for dear life. In my heart, Monica was someone I had to protect. And so, the leather belt in her father’s hand came down hard on my back, again and again. It stung so bad it felt like my skin was splitting open, and I howled in pain. Finally, my parents burst in and stopped the whole tragic affair. Later, as my mom was putting ointment on my back, she said I had rocks in my head. “Someone’s hitting you with a belt and you don’t even know to run?” “I couldn’t run,” I said. “If I ran, what would happen to Monica?” My mom sighed. “You little rascal. I know you like Monica. But couldn’t you have grabbed her and run together?” My face instantly turned bright red. “I don’t like her! I just… I just didn’t want to see her get hurt.” My mom didn’t scold me for taking a beating for Monica. On the contrary, her heart ached for her. Every time Monica came over to do homework or play, my mom would see the bruises on her arms and couldn’t help but ask, “Honey, does it hurt?” Monica would always put on a brave face. “Not at all, Auntie.” My mom would dab ointment on her wounds, her own eyes welling up with tears at the sight of her. But this was the nineties. A woman in our small town had no voice. Just saying the word “divorce” was considered a sin. 2 Monica had tried to convince her mom to divorce her dad. Her mom had flown into a rage, scolding Monica and accusing her of trying to turn her into a shameless, disgraced woman. In her anger, Monica’s mother, for the first time ever, hit her. Monica had endured countless beatings from that man without shedding a single tear. But this time, the tears flowed freely. After that, Monica never mentioned divorce to her mother again. She also stopped telling me how pitiful her mom was, how unlucky her life had been. When we got to college, Monica essentially cut off all contact with her family. She paid her way through school with work-study jobs. During winter and summer breaks, she barely ever went home, staying on campus to work and earn money. My mom’s heart went out to her. She’d say, “That girl has it so tough,” and would often slip me extra cash, telling me to take good care of Monica. In college, Monica’s aura seemed to grow even more somber. Her cool, distant eyes always seemed to keep people a thousand miles away. She was tall, with flawless skin and exquisitely delicate features. She could just sit there, doing nothing, and outshine everything around her. There was a “Campus Queen” poll on the university’s online forum, and her votes were so far ahead of everyone else’s that she won by a landslide. The number of guys trying to date her back then was staggering. I could have paid for a decent meal just by selling the love letters she received as scrap paper. Because everyone knew we were close, and they’d confirmed we weren’t a couple, a lot of guys tried to get to her through me. Until one day, I asked Monica, “Can I cut in line?” She gave me a long, serious look and told me I was insane. From then on, whenever someone asked me for her contact info, I told them about her supposed athlete’s foot and her aversion to showering, and how the stench could kill a man. I’d add that it was an incurable condition, and whoever ended up with her would suffer for life. After I spread this rumor, the number of her pursuers did, in fact, drop significantly. Monica seemed to enjoy the peace and quiet. But then a post exploded on the university forum. It detailed Monica’s tragic background: her alcoholic, abusive father, the constant fighting at home, her unhappy childhood. It mentioned that she was putting herself through college all on her own. The post shot to the top of the forum’s hot list. Suddenly, my story about her being a smelly girl with foot fungus was completely forgotten. A wave of chivalrous sympathy washed over the male student body. They started sending her all sorts of things, and the number of guys pursuing her became even greater than before. There was always a crowd of them waiting outside her dorm. They wanted to fetch her water, save her a seat in the library, and some even tried to just hand her money. Monica was beyond annoyed. She put a “hit” out on me. She said I had leaked her private life to the world, and she would never forgive me. Growing up, Monica was the undisputed leader of the neighborhood kids. If you crossed her, she would make you pay, and she showed no mercy. 3 I had lived my entire life under Monica’s “reign of terror.” So when I heard she had put a hit out on me, my first instinct was to find a place to hide. But I had seriously underestimated her influence on campus. I thought I’d be safe in the men’s dorm, that she couldn’t get to me there. But when her legion of admirers heard about the hit, they eagerly volunteered to help. They dragged me out of my own dorm room. A mob of guys shoved me in front of Monica, all of them trying to claim credit. Monica dismissed her followers and grabbed me by the ear, parading me across campus for all to see. She dragged me to a secluded spot and told me to get on my knees and repent. I looked at her and said, “Monica, I swear to God, you’ve got the wrong guy. I didn’t post that on the forum.” She stared at me, her gaze like ice. “Johnny, do you really think I’d believe you? In this university, so far from our hometown, who else knows about my family besides you?” “It really wasn’t me.” I didn’t know how to explain. She was right. In this place, miles away from home, I was the only one who knew her secrets. I had only applied to this university because I found out she was coming here. We had left our old lives behind to start fresh. We were from the warm south, and this northern city was freezing. I had a hard time adjusting at first. My mom had told me, “You little rascal, you wear your heart on your sleeve. If you didn’t like Monica, would you really have moved so far away?” “If it wasn’t you, then who was it? Did you tell someone else about my past?” she demanded. I knew it was her private life. Many people had asked, but I had never told a soul. “No, Monica, I swear. I didn’t post it, and I’ve never told anyone about your family.” Her expression suddenly changed. “And you think I’d believe that? When we were kids, you’d sell me out for a single piece of candy. Now, for some petty gain, you’d leak my information. It’s not impossible.” Hearing her say that, a sharp pain lanced through my chest. When we were kids, playing hide-and-seek, Monica was a master. She would always find a spot where no one could find her. But I knew her habits. No matter where she hid, I could always find her. Once, another kid gave me a piece of candy to reveal her hiding spot. Monica was found, lost the game, and chewed me out for what felt like an eternity. She swore she’d never speak to me again. But what she didn’t know was that it was a White Rabbit candy—her absolute favorite. I kept it hidden for a long time, not daring to give it to her while she was still mad. Later, I gave it to her as a surprise. It was a sunny afternoon. We were sitting on a tree branch. She ate the candy, her face lit up with a blissful smile. She even carefully folded the wrapper and handed it to me. “Here, keep this safe for me.” I happily took the wrapper, my own mouth watering a little. But seeing her happy made me even happier. But now, her misunderstanding cut me deep. “Monica, you really don’t believe me?” I asked, looking up at her.

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To preserve his precious star’s perfect hundred-win record, my husband stole my legal files, ensuring I would suffer a devastating defeat in the most important case of my life. He felt no guilt. He just tossed a credit card at me. “The world only needs one top female lawyer, Charlotte. Abby’s career can’t have a single loss. So, just quit the bar. I’ll take care of you from now on.” On his orders, I was blacklisted from the entire industry. The next time I appeared in court, it was for a divorce. And I was both the plaintiff and my own counsel. Standing in the courtroom again felt surreal, a ghost of a life I once knew. Across the aisle, Abby Monroe stood in a razor-sharp power suit, her expression dripping with contempt. “No lawyer, Charlotte? Still as overconfident as ever. I made you lose once, I can do it again. You’re really going to these lengths just to get Ethan’s attention, aren’t you?” Ethan Bonerz stood beside her, his face a thundercloud. He just stared at me, his jaw tight, saying nothing. Compared to their bustling legal team, my solitary presence felt stark and cold. I arranged my documents, then met her gaze with a calm, deliberate smile. “Abby, do you really want me to remind everyone here how you actually won that case?” Her arrogant smirk froze on her face. I ignored her, closing my eyes to prepare. It was a ritual I’d maintained since my first day in the profession: arrive early, shut my eyes, and mentally walk through the entire trial. Breathing in the familiar scent of polished wood and old paper that clung to the courtroom, a wave of calm washed over me. But my meditation was rudely shattered. Ethan strode across the aisle, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to my feet. He pursed his lips, still affecting that condescending air of his. “Withdraw the petition. Come home with me, and I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.” The warmth of his skin against mine was a lie. Underneath it, I could feel a tremor, a faint, almost imperceptible shaking. I wrenched my hand away. “Defendant, please respect the plaintiff.” He stared into my eyes, rooted to the spot. After a long moment, a bitter, self-mocking smile twisted his lips. “You’ll regret this, Charlotte.” In the business world, he was known for his bold, decisive moves. Here, in the courtroom, he was a man of few words, letting Abby do all the talking. She acted as his sole representative, her questions coming like a volley of arrows. Seeing my silence, she seemed to smell victory, landing her final blow with a sneer. “You haven’t improved at all.” When it was my turn, I wasted no time on speeches. I presented my evidence directly. “The defendant is the at-fault party due to adultery during the marriage. Pursuant to state family law, I request an immediate, final decree of divorce.” A murmur rippled through the gallery. Across the aisle, the defendant’s party lost their composure. Ethan shot to his feet, his voice laced with panic. “Abby and I were just living together so I could take care of her and the child! Nothing happened between us. That’s not proof! I don’t agree to the divorce!” I pointed out, my voice steady and clear, “The defendant has just admitted, on the record, to cohabitating with another woman during our marriage.” … The gavel fell. Divorce granted. Outside the courthouse, Abby blocked my path. In over a decade of practice, this was likely her first loss. She spoke through gritted teeth, “The only case you’ll ever win is your own divorce. After what happened, who in New York would dare hire you?” “I would. I dare.” The voice came before the man. A figure stepped between us, shielding me from Abby’s glare. He was smiling, a picture of easy confidence. Abby recognized him instantly. In the New York legal world, everyone knew Gary Vance, the man who had built a ten-firm empire from the ground up. “Ms. Monroe,” Gary said, his smile widening. “First, my warmest congratulations on your loss. Second, I’ve already extended a formal offer to Charlotte. Starting tomorrow, she will be my firm’s new ace attorney and partner.” Abby stared, incredulous. “Mr. Vance, you… you two…” I didn’t know when Ethan had come to stand behind me, but his voice was a low, almost spectral murmur. “Charlotte, you didn’t have to do all this—the fake divorce, hiring this guy just to make me angry. The case is in the past. You only lost your job, it’s not the end of the world. Why can’t you be magnanimous like Abby? Why can’t you just move on?” Gary started to speak, but I held up a hand to stop him. “Fine,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “I’ll be magnanimous. I’ll move on.” “Here’s how. You issue a public statement, right now. Admit that you stole my materials for the Westgate Construction case, causing my appeal to fail. Admit that your actions led the plaintiff to take his own life, destroying his family. You do that, and I’ll move on.” The color drained from both their faces. A few months ago, I had taken on a monumental wrongful conviction case, one that had captured the city’s attention. Driven by a lawyer’s sense of duty, I stepped in. It was a losing battle. Everyone knew the construction worker was innocent, yet he was saddled with millions in damages and a decades-long prison sentence. The case was the most-watched trial in New York in a decade, for one simple reason: the plaintiff’s counsel was the legal world’s undefeated legend, Abby Monroe. The defendant’s counsel was me, the rising star. This was Abby’s hundredth case. She had publicly boasted that she would make me suffer a humiliating defeat. At the time, Ethan and I were still newlyweds. I was drowning, juggling work and home life, poring over legal texts until my hair fell out in clumps. But I found it—the key piece of evidence that could overturn the whole case. I was ecstatic. I called the victim’s family, worked with them to convince a key witness to testify. Everything was finally turning in our favor. I couldn’t wait to tell Ethan. He was reviewing financial reports, and his hand paused mid-air. He looked up slowly, but there was no joy for me in his eyes. “Charlotte, stop digging. You’re exhausted.” I didn’t catch the hidden meaning in his words. I went to him, taking his hand, my voice full of the warmth of a new bride. “Honey, this is the most important case of my life. No matter how hard it is, I have to clear my client’s name. The trial is tomorrow. You have to wish me luck!” He shot up from his chair, yanking his hand from mine without a word. The next morning, I knew something was wrong. The key evidence was gone. The digital backup had been wiped. A cold sweat broke out on my skin. I couldn’t imagine who could have cracked my password. It was too late to call the police; I had no choice but to go to court and fight with what I had left. What shattered me completely was the witness. On the stand, he recanted his testimony. In that instant, my mind went blank. The judge’s voice upholding the original verdict was a distant drone. I don’t remember how I left the defendant’s table under Abby’s mocking gaze, or how I pushed through the swarm of reporters outside the courthouse. All I remember is snapping back to reality with my client’s wife and daughter collapsed at my feet, their wails tearing through the air as they asked me why. Why? I fled, disoriented and panicked, and stumbled right into Ethan and Abby. She was hooking a finger in his tie, pulling him close, the air thick with intimacy. Her voice was a sultry whisper, a warm breath against his ear. “Ethan, darling. Thank you for destroying the evidence for me. And for giving me the witness’s information. It’s the only way I could have won. I’ll be sure to reward you properly.” Ethan stroked her hair, his voice gentle. “Her winning or losing is nothing compared to your perfect record.” The sight of them, so cozy and triumphant, made my stomach turn. As far as I knew, Abby was ten years our senior, divorced, with a child. A small sound escaped my lips, and they both turned. They saw me standing there, pale as a ghost. “Charlotte…” Ethan started towards me, but Abby held him back. She looked at me, a triumphant smirk on her face, and made a thumbs-down gesture. Then, with a sickeningly sweet smile, she mouthed a single word. “Loser.” Ethan seemed to think he’d done nothing wrong. I screamed, my voice raw with hysteria, demanding an explanation. He just waved a dismissive hand, his tone detached, as if he were a mere spectator. “Abby helped me out of a tough spot once. This is just a small thing for you, Charlotte, but for her, it’s her hundred-win reputation. You should know what’s more important.” “A small thing?” A laugh, sharp and brittle, escaped my lips. “The breadwinner of a family is wrongfully imprisoned, and you call that a small thing?” “The hopes of countless other workers are crushed, and you call that a small thing?” “In your eyes, Abby Monroe’s reputation is the only thing that matters?” Perhaps the raw disappointment in my eyes provoked him. His face darkened with irritation. “What else? Let me be clear. To me, Abby is more important than anyone else. She helped my mother escape a gambling-addicted husband. She helped me get away from my deadbeat father. There’s nothing she could do that I wouldn’t forgive.” He continued, his voice hardening, “Just quit being a lawyer, Charlotte. The world only needs one top female attorney, and Abby’s career can’t have a single loss. I will clear every obstacle from her path. From now on, you’ll stay home and take care of me. I’ll provide for you.” He tossed a credit card at my feet, and without a backward glance at the broken woman I had become, he turned and walked away. From the window, I watched him go. I saw Abby run to him, throwing herself into his arms. They looked like lovers. Was this really just about repaying a debt? My heart was a hollow chasm, but I had no time to dwell on it. The damage was done. All I could do now was try to mitigate the fallout and compensate my client’s family as best I could. But before I could even begin to form a plan, I received the news that would haunt me for the rest of my life. My client, seeing no hope, had drowned himself in the river. His wife, unable to bear the grief, had tried to follow him. Their daughter had done the same. The daughter was rescued, and was now fighting for her life in the ICU. The moment I got the call, I rushed to the hospital. The traffic was a nightmare. I abandoned my car and ran. I stumbled and scrambled, and just as I neared the hospital intersection, a small figure darted out and shoved me hard, sending me sprawling into the middle of the road. A car screeched to a halt just a foot from my head. The driver rolled down his window, roaring, “Are you blind? If I weren’t a good driver, you’d be dead!” I stammered my thanks and grabbed the little girl who had pushed me. “What do you think you’re doing?” The girl, seeing she couldn’t escape, let her eyes dart around before plopping down on the pavement and bursting into a theatrical wail. “Homewrecker! You’re a homewrecker! You stole my daddy! Waaah, you’re a bad woman!” Onlookers immediately began to stare and mutter. The driver spat in my direction. “Breaking up families. Would’ve been better if I’d just hit you.” My head was spinning, but I managed to keep some semblance of composure. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. “You will be held accountable for every word you just said.” Seeing me call the police, the girl scrambled up and ran into the arms of a woman standing nearby. It was Abby. And standing right beside her, his face a mask of stone, was Ethan. — In the mediation room, the three of them sat across from me. The little girl, Anna, kept making faces and taunting me. Abby did nothing to stop her, instead stroking her head encouragingly. “She’s just a child, Charlotte. Why are you making a big deal out of this?” Ethan’s voice cut in, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. “Ethan, I was almost killed!” “But you weren’t, were you?” Abby shot me a resentful glance. “Why bully a child? I’ll apologize on her behalf, and we can let this go. She’s a minor, you can’t do anything to us anyway.” “No need to apologize,” Ethan said, stopping her. A fresh wave of pain washed over me. I looked at the man before me and suddenly, he was a stranger. I remembered a time when I’d gotten a small papercut, and he had fussed over me, carefully applying a bandage. Now, I had narrowly escaped death, and he didn’t care at all. He was telling me to let the person who tried to kill me walk free. “Go home, Charlotte. Don’t make me say it again.” His cold, dismissive tone was like a plunge into an icy abyss. My heart froze over. “Give me an explanation.” Ethan looked up, startled. Then, as if he understood something, he frowned. “Anna and Abby are on their own. The little girl is young and doesn’t understand. She sees me as a father figure. I happen to like kids, so I’ve been playing along. That’s why she misunderstood our relationship. I’ll explain it to her when she’s older.” I let out a bitter laugh. “You like kids, Ethan, but you never wanted to have one with me, did you?” We were supposed to be in our honeymoon phase, but Ethan was never home. I was shy, but one night I gathered all my courage, my face flushed, and asked him to stay home from work, just for one night. He was surprised, but he agreed. That night, just as passion was building, his phone rang. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled away and left. Embarrassment, disappointment, shame… a storm of emotions swirled inside me. I sat alone on the bed and cried the entire night. He obviously remembered it too. He stammered, “Anna had a high fever that night.” I walked to the window, looking down at the city lights twinkling below, and laughed coldly. “So what you’re saying is, Anna has a mother, she has grandparents, she has a family. But the one person she can’t live without is a ‘father’ she has no blood relation to? Is that it?” “Enough!” He strode over to me, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me to look at him. “When did you become so jealous?” His pupils reflected my face, haggard and worn down by the endless turmoil he and Abby had created. And suddenly, I felt so tired. It was all so meaningless. I broke free from his grasp and walked away. My hand was just about to touch the doorknob when his voice, hard as steel, came from behind me. “Stop being a lawyer. Be a housewife. This is a notification, not a negotiation.” “Besides, Charlotte, you’ve already lost the right to be a lawyer.” “I’ve blocked every single one of your escape routes.”

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1 Silas Roberts, the city’s most feared tycoon, had built a golden cage—a manor for his collection of wives. After acquiring ninety-nine, he demanded me, pregnant and vulnerable. When his men came, our housekeeper begged my husband Tony: “Think again! Roberts’ tastes are… unusual. The baby—” Tony remained cold. “She goes. If the child is lost, so be it. She’ll still be Mrs. McKean. We can try again.” In my past life, I resisted. Tony’s assistant Stella went instead—and later slit her wrists. The autopsy showed she’d been pregnant too. Tony never spoke of it… until the day I gave birth. He took our son to the rooftop and jumped. Only then did I see his hatred. Reborn, I didn’t fight. I stepped calmly into Silas’ car. … “Did you hear? Mr. Roberts specifically requested the missus. He threatened to bankrupt Mr. McKean’s company if she didn’t go! And Mr. McKean agreed.” “But Mr. Roberts is in his sixties! He’s a known sadist. Any woman who enters that manor comes out a shell of her former self… How could Mr. McKean just watch her walk into a fire pit?” “It just shows you the power of a first love, doesn’t it? If it had been Stella, his precious assistant, he would have let the company burn before sending her away!” The living room door was ajar, and I could hear the hushed gossip of the maids. Mrs. Gable, who was helping me pack, couldn’t hold her tongue. “Mrs. McKean, don’t listen to their nonsense! Why don’t you go and plead with him? You’ve been husband and wife for years; surely he can’t be that heartless!” I managed a weak, weary smile. “It’s no use, Mrs. Gable.” Everyone in our circle knew that Silas Roberts’s power was absolute, his methods ruthless. Tony would never risk angering him for my sake. I was under no illusions about that. In my previous life, the moment Mr. Roberts’s demand reached Tony, he’d agreed without a second thought. To convince me to go willingly, he’d feigned devotion, spinning lies about how he’d rather lose his company. My heart had just begun to soften when I saw him downstairs, locked in a passionate embrace with his “white moonlight,” Stella. So, I’d reneged. I’d threatened to kill myself, even holding a knife to my pregnant belly, until he finally relented. That was when Stella stepped forward, offering to take my place. The look in Tony’s eyes… they were bloodshot with a tormented love. The day he drove her to Roberts’s villa, he promised her, right in front of me, that he would divorce me and marry her the moment she returned. But the day after Stella came back, she was dead. The autopsy report was clear: Pregnant. Tony handled her funeral arrangements quietly. He never mentioned the divorce again. I’d foolishly believed that while he’d loved Stella deeply, her death had made him see the value of our marriage. I thought he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. I never imagined that on the day I gave birth, he would personally carry our child to the hospital rooftop and end his life. As I watched the tiny form fall, I realized Tony had been wearing a mask all along. He had never let go of Stella. He had always, always hated me. So this time, when I heard Mr. Roberts’s summons, I didn’t fight. This time, I would give them what they wanted. “Mrs. McKean, the master is back. He’s asking for you downstairs.” I nodded calmly. “I know.” When I entered the living room, Stella was there too. I paused, watching as Tony clutched her hand, making no effort to hide his affection. Could it be? I wondered. Is he reborn, too? “Lena,” Tony began, his voice flat. “Mr. Roberts has requested you in two days. Go and pack.” He added, “And starting today, Stella will be moving in.” The old me would have screamed, thrown things, caused a scene. But now, I just nodded and said, “Okay.” Tony flinched, avoiding my gaze. “What new trick are you playing now?” he snapped impatiently. “I’m telling you, throwing a fit won’t work this time. The consequences of defying Mr. Roberts are worse than death.” Stella chimed in at the perfect moment. “That’s right, Lena. This is to protect the McKean Corporation. Besides,” she added with a saccharine smile, “to be noticed by Mr. Roberts… it’s really an honor for you.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, is it? By all means, take this ‘honor’ for yourself.” Tony’s temper flared. “Mr. Roberts wants you! Why are you taking it out on Stella? Don’t you dare use that tone with me. Apologize to her. Now.” I ignored him. But behind him, Stella suddenly dropped to her knees, a picture of noble sacrifice. “Mr. McKean, please don’t be angry with Lena because of me. I’m just an assistant. It’s fine if she looks down on me or says a few harsh words.” Her voice trembled. “As long as it saves the company, I… I am willing to go to Mr. Roberts in her place!” Her knees hadn’t even touched the floor before Tony was rushing to her side, helping her up with a pained expression. “Stella, stop. You’re pregnant. Don’t kneel to her.” He looked at her, his eyes filled with adoration. “I know you would do anything for me, but Mr. Roberts wants Lena.” He then turned his cold, hard gaze on me. “I’m warning you, don’t you dare try anything with Stella, or I swear I will make you regret it.” He softened his tone, a manipulative shift. “And if you’re worried I’ll leave you when you get back, you can relax. I promise, I won’t divorce you over this.” The words made me want to laugh in his face. Instead, I turned, retrieved a folder from the side table, and held it out to him. Tony frowned. “What is this?” I smiled, a thin, sharp curve of my lips. “It’s time to abdicate the throne, Tony. Let’s get a divorce.” 2 I offered him the file, the words “DIVORCE AGREEMENT” printed boldly across the front. He didn’t even look at it. He swatted it from my hand, sending papers scattering across the floor. “Lena, have you lost your mind? I just told you I wouldn’t divorce you.” “I know you don’t want to go,” he said, his voice laced with false sympathy, “but if you don’t, my company goes under! You wouldn’t want everything I’ve worked so hard for to be ruined because of you, would you?” I had to marvel at his skill. Such effortless moral blackmail. He made it sound as if my refusal would be a deliberate act of sabotage. Did he really think I was the same gullible woman from our past life? This time, I already had a plan to deal with Mr. Roberts. Seeing my silence, Tony’s face darkened. “Lena, I’ll be honest with you. The baby in Stella’s belly… it’s mine.” He offered it like a twisted consolation prize. “If you can just get the company through this crisis… I’ll even let you be the child’s mother, in name.” “No, thank you.” I cut him off, nudging the scattered papers with my foot. “I have no interest in being a stepmother, and even less in having some other woman’s child call me ‘mom’.” “Lena!” I ignored his furious shout and turned, heading back upstairs. Watching me pack my suitcase with a calm, methodical slowness, Mrs. Gable’s eyes reddened again. “Mrs. McKean, are you really going?” Her voice was thick with emotion. “I just don’t understand. When Mr. McKean’s parents passed, you were the one by his side day and night. You helped him through the darkest time of his life. How can all those years of devotion mean less than some gold-digger who came crawling back from overseas because she couldn’t make it on her own?” “He swore he would only love you for the rest of his life! How did that… that thing bewitch him?” I shook my head, my smile sad. “Don’t call me Mrs. McKean anymore, Mrs. Gable. I have nothing to do with this family now.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “But… ma’am… if you go to Mr. Roberts’s… they’ll skin you alive…” My hands stilled. It seemed even she believed this was a death sentence. Just as I was about to speak, a glass of cold water was flung in my face. “Oh, I am so sorry, Lena! My hand slipped…” It was Stella. She held an empty glass, her words an apology, but her face was a mask of smug triumph. “Then again,” she continued, her voice dripping with condescension, “you probably don’t need to pack much. I’m sure Mr. Roberts’s estate has everything you could possibly need. You’re not the first woman he’s… hosted, after all.” Mrs. Gable trembled with rage. “You’ve gone too far!” “It’s fine, Mrs. Gable.” Stella, assuming I was too afraid to fight back, let the provocation in her eyes intensify. Her gaze drifted mockingly to my stomach. “I hear Mr. Roberts has… eclectic tastes. The women who visit him all come back… broken. I wonder how many days you’ll last…” She leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper. “And even if you do manage to return, I doubt that thing inside you will.” I wiped the water from my hair, and with a speed that surprised even myself, I slapped Stella hard across the face, shoving her out of my room. “Don’t you worry about it,” I said coldly. “I never planned on keeping it anyway.” I was about to turn away when Stella grabbed my arm. “Lena,” she hissed, her face close to mine, “what do you think Tony would do to you if I were to… fall down these stairs?” Her words were pure poison. Then, with a wicked smile, she threw herself backward. “Ah! Help me!” Tony’s face went white. He didn’t hesitate for a second, lunging forward to catch Stella in his arms. “Stella, are you alright?” She put on a masterful show of benevolence. “I’m fine… Mr. McKean, don’t blame Lena. She’s just jealous that I’m carrying your child. She didn’t mean it…” Her words only fueled Tony’s hatred for me. He stormed toward me and slapped me, the crack echoing in the hallway. “You disgust me, Lena!” he spat. “She defends you even after what you just did! You’re not worth a single hair on her head!” His voice grew more vicious with every word. “You deserve to be used and discarded by that old man! I hope he plays you to death!” He ordered the bodyguards to drag me to the small, dark cellar. “Don’t give her a single drop of water without my permission!” Mrs. Gable knelt outside, her cries muffled by the heavy door. “Mr. McKean, you can’t do this to her! You know she has claustrophobia! She’s terrified of the dark! She’ll die in there…” Tony was deaf to her pleas. Stella, rubbing her head as if in pain, added fuel to the fire. “Mrs. Gable, you work for the McKeans. Why are you always taking Lena’s side? What has she given you? Do you protect her like she’s your own daughter?” Mrs. Gable snapped. She lunged at Stella, ready to tear her apart, but the guards restrained her. She kept vigil outside the cellar door all night, her soft sobs the only sound in the darkness. She was still there the next evening when Mr. Roberts’s men came to collect me.

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1 When Eddie’s childhood friend’s company went bankrupt, he wanted to use the hundred thousand dollars I had set aside—our child’s life-saving fund—to rescue her. I begged him to give the money back, but all he said was, “June will earn it back. You need to be more forward-thinking, not some paranoid miser.” When I demanded he have her sign a promissory note, he called me cold and heartless. Later, his friend cried that the money was all gone and she would starve. Eddie held her, comforted her, and promised to support her for the rest of her life. I quietly packed my bags and called my father. “Dad, you were right. Eddie is a piece of work. I’m coming home to take over the business.” … I had just hung up the phone when Eddie emerged from the bedroom. “Anna,” he said softly, “go make some soup for June. She’ll be hungry when she wakes up.” I ignored him and started walking toward my own room. His face darkened, and he blocked my path. “Anna Chevalier, it was just a hundred thousand dollars. Are you still throwing a fit about it? Don’t you have any compassion?” His voice rose. “If you’re not going to listen, then get out.” His shout woke June. She propped herself up, draping an arm over Eddie’s shoulder and shooting me a look of pure disdain. “Honestly, Eddie. You were the campus king from high school through grad school, and your family is well-off. How did you end up with such a petty girl?” Eddie sighed, his eyes on June. “Not everyone can be as generous and easygoing as you.” He glanced at my stomach. “But we already have a child on the way. It’s too late for regrets now.” I cradled my belly, staring at the impatience etched on Eddie’s face. Could I even have this child? My doctor had already told me this was a high-risk pregnancy. To have any chance of carrying the baby to term, and to ensure its health afterward, would cost at least a hundred thousand dollars, from prenatal care to the first few years of life. And even then, there were no guarantees it would be a healthy child. Now, with each passing day, I could feel the fragile life inside me growing weaker. And that hundred thousand dollars was gone. I had to divorce Eddie. Only when I went home, alone, would my father give me money again. When I had defied him to marry Eddie, he had forbidden me from ever mentioning my family’s background, worried it would crush Eddie’s pride and ambition. I was only three months along. Maybe it was better not to bring an unhealthy child into the world to suffer, especially with a father like this. But what hurt the most was that Eddie knew. He knew that money was meant to save my life and our child’s life, and he still gave it to June without a second thought. If two human lives meant less to him than June, then there was no reason for me and my child to stay. I turned and went to my room to grab my purse and suitcase, ready to head to the hospital. June lunged forward and grabbed my suitcase. “Anna, stop it!” she yelled. “Don’t pull this ‘running away from home’ drama to make things difficult for Eddie.” “I’m going out to drink with clients tonight,” she declared, her voice laced with theatrical martyrdom. “Even if I have to drink until my stomach bleeds and I pass out in someone else’s bed, I, June, will pay you back. Happy now?” Eddie, who never set foot in the kitchen, heard the commotion and came running out. June had already changed into a flimsy, black silk slip dress. She patted Eddie’s shoulder as she walked towards the door. “Bro, I won’t let you be put in a tough spot. I’m going to go earn that money. You just handle your wife.” Eddie rushed to the door and bolted it. For a fleeting moment, a spark of hope ignited in my heart. Was he afraid I would leave? He strode towards me, and I held my breath, waiting for an apology. Instead, his voice, cold as ice, lashed out at me. “Anna, you are the most vicious woman I have ever met. You’re a woman yourself. How could you force June to sell her body to pay you back?” 2 Before I could even explain, Eddie ripped the purse from my shoulder and threw it into the fireplace. He glared at me, his eyes burning with cold fury. “No ID, no credit cards. Let’s see how far you get now.” Then he turned to June, his voice softening. “June, we’ve known each other for years. You’re closer to me than my own brother. You don’t have to pay me back. We can sell the house, sell the car if we have to. Go change. I’ll take you out for a nice meal.” He wrinkled his nose. “The smell from that burning bag is toxic. We can’t eat here.” I scrambled to the fireplace, trying to retrieve my purse, but it was already a melted, gaping mess. My ID, the last few hundred dollars in cash I had, all of it was gone. The screen of my phone had cracked and warped in the heat. Fearing it might explode, I ran to the kitchen, grabbed a pair of barbecue tongs, and carefully pulled the phone from the flames. As Eddie and June left, he deliberately triple-locked the door from the outside. I was trapped. My phone was broken. He had done this on purpose. But had he forgotten? I hadn’t eaten either. The morning sickness was unbearable; I had no strength to cook. There were no snacks in the house, because I’d been too sick to go shopping. I lay on the bed, my stomach growling with hunger, my body wracked with waves of nausea. I didn’t even have the energy to make myself a bowl of soup. Then I felt a warm gush between my legs and the metallic scent of blood. Something was terribly wrong. Using every last bit of strength I had, I crawled to the window. I saw the lights on in the apartment below. I grabbed a laundry pole and banged it repeatedly against my neighbor’s window, screaming for help. The lady downstairs, Mrs. Gable, knew me well. She knew about my difficult pregnancy. Her voice, filled with alarm, carried up to me. “Honey, don’t you worry! I’m calling 911 right now! I’ll get the building manager to open your door!” Within ten minutes, the paramedics and the building manager were there. The door was open. I frantically borrowed Mrs. Gable’s phone and called Eddie. I had no money, but he had just received a ten-thousand-dollar bonus. He answered quickly. “Eddie, you have to come back,” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “I’m bleeding. The paramedics said I might lose the baby.” I heard a soft scoff from the other end. It was June. “Anna, you’re just like one of those women in a palace drama. Using the baby to get your man’s attention.” The blood was flowing faster now. I couldn’t hold back my fury. “Have you no shame? It’s the middle of the night and you’re still hanging all over a married man!” June didn’t answer. She tossed the phone aside but didn’t hang up. I could hear music in the background. They were at a karaoke bar. It was a duet. Eddie and June, singing a classic song about friendship. I could just make out the line: “One word, a lifetime. One drink, an eternal bond.” I screamed his name into the phone, but he couldn’t hear me over the music. As their voices rose in a powerful, off-key crescendo for the final chorus: “There’s still pain, there’s still hurt, there’s still a long road, and there’s still me.” I hung up the phone. I should never have held out hope for Eddie. His friendship, his loyalty to her, would always come before his wife and child. But were they just friends? The sobs finally broke through. I called my dad. He told me he would have a friend in the city, Mr. Sterling, deliver cash immediately, and that he would have all my documents reissued within a day. Only then did I allow myself to be taken to the hospital. The surgery was under general anesthesia, but I still felt a deep, dull ache in my heart. Eddie had been so excited for this child. We had even picked out names, one for a boy and one for a girl. He knew how dangerous this pregnancy was. But the moment June needed something, he forgot everything else. I had always believed that once the baby came, over time, he would see the warmth of the home we had built. He would see how much I loved him. He would choose us over her. Now I knew. It was all just a foolish dream.

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This weekend, my husband and I were invited to a charity auction. During the bidding, my husband’s secretary and I both set our sights on the same oil painting. Just as I was preparing for a fair contest, my husband publicly signaled his unlimited support for his secretary, effectively declaring he would outbid anyone for her. “Jeannie,” she sneered, “you’re nothing but a pet my family keeps on a leash. What right do you have to compete with me?” As the other guests began to drop out of the bidding, I snapped my fingers at the auctioneer. “Whatever Mr. Posehn is offering,” I said, my voice ringing clear, “I’ll bid… one dollar more.” 1 A hush fell over the room as every guest turned to stare at me. A moment later, it was broken by a wave of derisive laughter. “Is this woman out of her mind? She’s bidding against her own husband. Does she have money to burn?” “It’s not just that she’s lost her mind—she never had one to begin with. A mere trophy wife daring to challenge Vincent Posehn in public. She has no idea who she’s dealing with.” “I heard before I came that Mr. Posehn picked up a pretty little thing years ago and has been keeping her at home. I never thought I’d actually see her in person.” As the murmurs grew louder, Vincent’s face grew darker. He shot to his feet, pointing a finger at me as his voice boomed across the hall. “Jeannie, put your hand down this instant! Do you hear me?” He was practically seething. “You’re spending my family’s money! How dare you compete with me?” I leaned back in my chair, my expression a mask of calm, and met his furious gaze. “Vincent, I am, for better or worse, your wife. A little respect wouldn’t kill you.” My eyes narrowed. “Why should I have to give up something I want for someone else?” My voice dropped, taking on a steely edge. “And for the record, I have never spent a single dime of your family’s money. Don’t you dare suggest otherwise.” Vincent’s face flushed a deep, mottled red. “Jeannie, have I not told you to call me Mr. Posehn in public? You are nothing but a pet on our payroll! We have no real relationship!” I let out a soft sigh, my eyes locked on his. “So, Mr. Posehn, are you truly going to fight me over this… for your little secretary?” The truth was, I’d sensed something was wrong the moment I walked in. As Vincent’s wife, I should have been seated beside him. Instead, I was relegated to a forgotten corner. I had swallowed my pride. After all, old Mr. Posehn, Vincent’s father, had always been kind to me, even inviting me to play chess with him from time to time. A good woman should know when to tolerate her husband’s foolish ego. But I never imagined that my seat would be occupied by Vincent’s secretary, Jenna. A fresh college graduate whose only remarkable quality was her youth. And yet, here was my idiotic husband, ready to go to war for her. The thought sent a blaze of anger roaring through me. But the so-called rising star of the business world was too self-absorbed to notice. He continued his tirade. “Who the hell do you think you are, Jeannie? I don’t need your permission to do anything. You’ve spent years eating our food, living in our house. What could you possibly have to fight me with?” His voice rose to a fever pitch. “I’m not afraid to tell you right now, I am buying this painting for Jenna!” Before I could even react, the secretary herself couldn’t resist chiming in. She shot me a look dripping with provocation. “Miss Chevalier, I suggest you just give up. If you make Mr. Posehn unhappy, your life might become… difficult.” She paused, a malicious grin spreading across her face. “A trophy wife should know her place, don’t you think, Miss Chevalier?” Jenna’s words drew another round of laughter from the surrounding tables. Even the auctioneer on stage couldn’t hide a smirk. I, however, simply waved a dismissive hand and let out a cold laugh. “So, what I’m hearing, Miss Jenna, is that you’re determined to go against me today?” Jenna’s smile turned wicked, her eyes filled with contempt. “Miss Chevalier, it’s not that I’m trying to be cruel. But you’re a housewife. You don’t even have a job. How could you possibly compete with me? Mr. Posehn has made a patronage pledge—the sky’s the limit. Do you have that kind of money to follow?” I slowly lifted my head and offered her a serene smile. “You’re wrong, Jenna. You and I are nothing alike.” My voice was soft, but it carried across the silent room. “I don’t need a man to buy me things.” Her statement was met with a fresh wave of mockery. “My God, the nerve of this girl. She probably wouldn’t have even gotten through the door if not for Mr. Posehn.” “Exactly! She’s only here because she married into the Posehn family.” “Who would even bother with her if not for him? Auctioneer, just call it. Let’s not waste any more of our time.” The taunts swirled around me, but they didn’t touch me. Because every word I said was the truth. If I wasn’t trying to save Vincent a shred of dignity, I could have stood up and announced that the Posehn Corporation itself belonged to me. Seeing my silence, the secretary grew even bolder. “See? I told you. A woman with no power should just stay at home. Now you’ve made a fool of yourself.” Before Jenna could finish, I slowly raised my bidding paddle. “Who said I was backing down?” My voice was a silken threat. “It’s just money. Darling, that’s the one thing I have plenty of.” 2 Every eye in the room was now fixed on me. Even the auctioneer on stage was frozen, unsure of what to do next. He probably knew I didn’t have the money, but professional courtesy dictated that he couldn’t drop the hammer as long as there was an active bidder. Vincent’s roar echoed through the hall. “Jeannie! You’re really determined to make an enemy of me today, aren’t you?” I shot a glance at the smug secretary standing beside him and answered with cold, hard finality. “Yes.” The single word hung in the air. Vincent bellowed, his voice raw with fury. “Fine! Fine! Let’s see just how much money you have to fight me with!” He thrust his paddle into the air without a moment’s hesitation. “Ten million dollars!” Anyone familiar with auctions knows that a patronage pledge is a point of no return. You either see it through to the end, or you declare financial ruin. If Vincent was willing to gamble his entire company for a secretary, then I was more than happy to play along. “Ten million… and one dollar.” My voice was calm. Heads snapped in my direction. I could read the ridicule on their faces; they were all waiting for the punchline to this spectacular joke. No one here knew I was the silent force behind the Posehn Corporation. Years ago, when the Posehn family was on the brink of bankruptcy, its patriarch, Arthur Posehn, had appeared on my doorstep late at night, clutching a marriage contract, begging me to save his family. To repay a debt owed to a previous generation, I had gritted my teeth and married his son, Vincent. But this man, my husband, had never shown me an ounce of respect. He humiliated me daily, and now he dared to pledge his fortune to another woman right in front of my face. It was a slight I simply could not swallow. “You bitch, do you even have the money to back that up?” Jenna’s voice was shrill now, her composure cracking as she saw me stand my ground against her boss. “This is a high-end auction, not a flea market! Don’t say I didn’t warn you—if you can’t pay up, you’ll go to jail!” I looked up at her and smiled sweetly. “Jenna, whether I have money or not is none of your concern. I’d be more worried about your boss if I were you. There’s no backing out of a game like this.” My words seemed to ignite the last of Vincent’s restraint. He shot to his feet, paddle held high. “How dare you lecture my people, Jeannie? You want to play? Let’s see what you’ve really got in that purse of yours!” He roared, his voice shaking the crystal chandeliers. “I’ll raise it another ten million! Twenty million total!” A collective gasp went through the room. This was a charity auction, after all. The items were valuable, but none were worth tens of millions. The painting in question was the work of a child, not an old master. “Mr. Posehn, how generous!” I said, clapping slowly as I rose to my feet. “On behalf of the children in underprivileged communities, I thank you.” I paused, a slow smile spreading across my lips. “But… since this is for charity, more is always better, isn’t it?” As the room watched in stunned silence, I slowly extended a single, elegant finger. “Twenty million… and one dollar.” 3 No one in that room could have predicted I would dare to defy Vincent so brazenly. The looks they gave me were a mixture of shock and morbid curiosity. Every person here was a titan of industry. Vincent himself had only earned a seat at this table because of the Posehn Corporation’s recent meteoric rise. From the look in his eyes, I could tell he was enjoying this. He relished the opportunity to put me in my place. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “Let me be clear. While this woman is legally my wife, she and I have no real connection. If she is unable to produce the funds later, the Posehn Corporation will not be held responsible.” I almost laughed out loud. “Vince, I wouldn’t be so quick to cut ties,” I said, my voice dangerously sweet. “After all, you’re the only one here who made such a grand patronage pledge. If you can’t pay up, you might find yourself begging me to bail you out.” My words were a direct challenge. The secretary, Jenna, couldn’t stand it. She shot up from her seat. “Jeannie, are you daydreaming? You, a mere housewife, presuming to compare yourself to the entire Posehn Corporation? You’re delusional.” I just shook my head, my composure unshaken. “It might be hard for you to believe right now, but it’s the truth. If you don’t believe me, by all means, let your Mr. Posehn test that theory.” Jenna raised an eyebrow, a sneer twisting her lips. “Fine. Let’s see. A woman who doesn’t even know her own worth has no business acting so high and mighty in front of me.” I didn’t let her words faze me. In fact, I felt a strange sense of calm. “I’m sorry, but we’re not the same. I, Jeannie Chevalier, have never needed a man’s money to buy anything I want.” As soon as I spoke, the guests who recognized me from past events started whispering again. “Please, anyone can talk big. If she were that powerful, why would she be content as a housewife?” “Exactly. Mr. Posehn is a rising star with a net worth in the hundreds of millions. What is she?” “She’s nothing but a clown, desperate for attention. Let’s just ignore her.” I slowly rose to my feet, my gaze sweeping across the entire room. “Everyone, listen closely,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise. “It’s not just the Posehn family I look down on. It’s every single one of you in this room.” I may not be a businesswoman, but I know how to be a decent human being. From the moment I entered this hall, these so-called titans of industry had been more interested in kissing up to Vincent than in the charity they were supposedly here to support. My declaration made me the target of everyone’s fury. Even the auctioneer had had enough. “Ma’am, we do not welcome people like you at this event.” I slowly tilted my head, looking up at the stage. “Oh? And what kind of person am I? Please, do tell.” Before the auctioneer could answer, Jenna stormed onto the stage and snatched the microphone from his hand. “Jeannie Chevalier, you are a nobody!” Her voice, amplified by the speakers, filled every corner of the room. The business magnates rose to their feet, applauding in agreement. Even Vincent, who had been silent for some time, watched me with a look of malicious glee. Seeing the scene before me, I had a moment of stunning clarity. The decision I’d made to save the Posehn family all those years ago had been an act of monumental foolishness. I remained silent for a long moment. Jenna, thinking I was finally intimidated, raised the microphone again. “Hey, you! Now you see why Mr. Posehn doesn’t want you sitting next to him, don’t you?” She leaned into the microphone, her voice rising to a triumphant shriek. “Because… you’re not worthy!”

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My wife, who’d been dead for seven years, was back. Not only that, she’d brought a man with her. And she expected me to just step aside and hand over my title as her husband. “Seth nearly lost his sight saving me. I’ve already promised to marry him,” she said, her voice dripping with an unearned authority. “If you sign the divorce papers quietly, I’ll let you continue living here.” I was silent for a moment, then answered coolly, “Actually, I’m already married to someone else.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be difficult, Patrick. Everyone knows you’re still head over heels in love with me.” 1 But I wasn’t the same Patrick Rhodes from seven years ago—the pathetic fool who would have done anything for her, the man who had groveled at her feet until he had no dignity left. “I have no reason to lie. I’m married.” Echo shot me a look of pure contempt, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Stop the act, Patrick. I’m not here to ask for your permission. I’m informing you. Whether you like it or not, I’m marrying Seth.” Seth stepped forward, lacing his fingers with hers. His voice was a soft, cloying melody of faux innocence. “Echo, darling, please don’t fight with Patrick. It’s just my bad luck. Maybe you should just send me back.” He made a show of turning to leave, but his hand clutched the hem of her dress, and the look he shot me was a triumphant glare. It was a pathetic, transparent performance. Echo’s expression softened instantly. “Seth, don’t say that. You promised we’d be together forever.” She turned back to me, her confidence bafflingly absolute. “Don’t worry. Patrick is crazy about me. He’ll do anything I say. We’ll get married, I promise.” Seven years, and her delusional self-assurance had only gotten worse. Before I could speak, she fixed me with a threatening stare. “You’ve enjoyed seven years as the Sterling family’s golden boy. It’s time to let Seth have his turn. He’s suffered enough. I won’t let you bully him.” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. “I haven’t done a thing. Don’t try to pin this on me.” Echo’s eyes narrowed. She looked me up and down as if I were something she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. “Do you actually think you’re important? If it weren’t for the fact that you waited seven years for me, I would have thrown you out of this house the second I walked in. I wouldn’t be wasting my breath.” Throw me out? She wouldn’t get the chance. And what on earth made her think I’d waited seven years for her? The day she abandoned me was the day I gave up on her completely. Seven years ago, I was in a limousine, dressed in my wedding tuxedo, traveling over winding mountain roads to pick up my bride. And she ran. She left me at the altar. The official story was a tragedy. A landslide on the road. While I was out of the car checking the damage, Echo had supposedly slipped and fallen from a cliff. For seven years, everyone believed she was dead. I even picked out her gravesite myself. Marrying into the Sterling family was a future my father had fought tooth and nail to secure for me. Echo could throw away the Rhodes family’s reputation, but I couldn’t. And besides, she wasn’t the only woman in her family. For the past seven years, I’ve been a husband and a father. If she hadn’t suddenly reappeared, I would have completely forgotten she ever existed. So, seeing her again after all this time stirred nothing in me. “Echo, let me repeat myself one more time,” I said, my voice flat. “You and I are not husband and wife. Legally, you’re a deceased person. Who you marry is none of my business.” Echo let out a dismissive scoff. “At least you know your place. If you hadn’t been so obsessed with marrying me back then, I never would have had to run off to another country and hide for seven years.” So, that was it. I’d always wondered how she was the only one who died when so many people were there. It wasn’t a tragic accident; it was a disappearing act. She hadn’t changed at all—still willing to do anything to get her way, no matter who she hurt. When the news of her “death” had reached her mother, the woman had collapsed on the spot. She’d fallen into a deep sickness, nearly following her daughter to the grave. The butler, who had just rushed in, overheard Echo’s callous words. “Miss Echo, you mustn’t say such things,” he stammered. “Mr. Rhodes is now the VP of Sterling Corp.” “VP?” Seth, standing beside her, asked with a flicker of darkness in his eyes. “Echo, didn’t you say your grandfather would only ever make you CEO?” Echo’s face stiffened. She stared at me, confused. “My father only has one daughter. Who else is qualified to inherit the company besides me?” I just watched her, my expression unreadable. Had she left her brain overseas? Did she have any idea how foolish she sounded? The butler was sweating, wiping his brow frantically. “Miss Echo, what are you saying? Mr. Rhodes is married to Miss Julia. She is the CEO of Sterling Corp now. Your aunt, don’t you remember?” The day Echo left me stranded, I stood on that highway, lost, the eyes of a hundred gossiping onlookers burning into me. That’s when Julia had stepped forward. She said she would marry me. In that moment, I was adrift, powerless. Everyone in New York knew it was my wedding day, and my bride had died on the way to the ceremony. Cursed. Jinx. A black mark. Those words were nails pinning me to a pillar of public shame. And then, suddenly, someone was offering me a way out. A hand to pull me from the wreckage. She would save the Rhodes family from humiliation. Why wouldn’t I have married her? Julia hadn’t even planned on attending her niece’s wedding. She’d only returned to the country at the behest of the old man, her father. And in a bizarre twist of fate, she became my wife instead. Echo stared at me, her face a mask of ridicule. “Everyone knows my aunt Julia is a titan of industry. All she cares about is her career. She wouldn’t give a pathetic lapdog like Patrick a second glance.” Julia Sterling was a legend in New York’s business world. Half of the Sterling empire was built on her personal ventures. Within the family, she was treated like a queen. To this day, I still don’t fully understand why she married me. There were so many men richer and more handsome than me. The butler kept trying. “Miss Echo, it’s true. You can look up the news online. Or ask anyone in the family.” Echo just curled her lip in disdain. She randomly pointed to a gardener, then a maid. They both gave her the same answer. Her composure finally cracked. Her face went rigid as she glared at me. “Well, well, Patrick. You work fast, don’t you? I’m gone for a few years, and you’ve already got the entire staff wrapped around your finger, all of them in on your little conspiracy to lie to me.” I remained calm, refusing to get drawn into her madness. My marriage to Julia was a hard fact. Whether Echo believed it or not meant nothing to me. She’d been spoiled her whole life. The butler, fearing another outburst, quickly sent someone to call Julia. “Get Miss Julia’s assistant on the phone! Tell her to come home immediately!” Julia was in the middle of negotiating an aerospace deal and had left for the office early. The old man, Mr. Sterling, and Echo’s mother weren’t home either. Otherwise, Echo wouldn’t have dared to cause such a scene. As the standoff thickened the air, my daughter Ava suddenly burst into the room. “Daddy, why didn’t you come back to play with me?” The moment Echo saw Ava, her face twisted in rage. It was obvious why. Ava was a miniature, female version of me. Echo’s gaze darted between me and the child, her body trembling. Finally, she raised a shaking hand and pointed it at me. “How dare you betray me. You even have a bastard child.” Her voice was a venomous hiss. “Tell me, whose is it?” Ava, who inherited Julia’s sharp personality, might not have fully understood the word, but she knew it was an insult. She tapped her chin, looking like a tiny, serious adult. “Who are you calling a bastard? My mommy says people with dirty mouths are just trash.” Ava was six. She knew almost everyone in the household, but she’d never seen Echo before. Echo immediately snapped back, “How dare you talk back, you little brat.” That was it. I saw red. This was my precious daughter, the light of my life. How dare she call her that? “Echo,” I growled, my voice low and dangerous. “You watch your mouth. Or I promise, you’ll regret it.” Seth, ever the snake, glanced at me and added casually, “The child looks like she’s old enough for school, doesn’t she? Don’t tell me you cheated on Echo before you were even married?” The words were poison. Echo’s eyes went wide with fury, and she looked at me as if she wanted to claw my face off. There is nothing a woman hates more than being cheated on, especially when the man was once her devoted admirer—a man who had sworn to love her until the day he died. “She’s six,” I said calmly. “You son of a bitch, Patrick!” Echo shrieked. “I’m gone for seven years, and you have a child with someone else? Have you no shame?” Only seven years? We’d only known each other for a few years before she took off for seven of them. And she was the one who abandoned me. The butler rushed to explain. “Miss Echo, that’s Miss Julia’s child!” “Shut up!” she screamed at him. “You traitorous old fool! Where are my parents? Who let him get away with this? Cheating on me and acting so smug about it!” “The entire Sterling family knows, Miss Echo.” At the time, Echo’s parents had felt so guilty about her running away that they hadn’t objected to me marrying Julia. Hearing this, Echo finally exploded. Her eyes were like daggers, scanning the room. “Who is the slut? Who dared to humiliate the Sterling family like this? Does she have a death wish?” No matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t find a single plausible suspect among the staff. I let out a dry, humorless laugh. Seth, with a sickeningly sweet tone of concern, tried to counsel me. “Patrick, you should just confess. If you push Echo too far, even I won’t be able to help you.” I shot him a withering look. “We’re both men here. Cut the act.” Before I could react, Echo’s hand whipped through the air and cracked across my face. “You shut your mouth!” she screamed, her voice ragged. “You’re the one who cheated! You had a child behind my back, and you have the nerve to lecture Seth?” I hadn’t seen it coming. My cheek instantly flared with a hot, stinging pain. Seeing me get hit, Ava charged forward like a little bull. “You hit my daddy! I’ll get you!” “Ava!” Echo snatched Ava up by the collar of her dress, lifting her off the ground. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Echo, put her down!” The maids and other staff rushed forward. “Miss, please, put the child down!” one of them pleaded. “Miss Julia will not be merciful if anything happens to her.” Everyone in the Sterling household knew that Ava was the center of Julia’s universe, a treasure she protected fiercely. But Echo just sneered. “Get out of my way if you want to keep your jobs. Today, I’m going to teach them both a lesson.” My blood ran cold. “Echo, what are you doing?” Her face was a mask of venomous rage, her entire presence turning glacial. “According to the law, you committed adultery during our marriage and had a child. I can demand you leave with nothing and compensate me for my emotional distress.” The problem was, we were never married. My hands clenched into fists, veins bulging on the back. “Echo, we were never married! There was no adultery! Now put my daughter down!” If she weren’t a woman, I would have already tackled her. I, Patrick Rhodes, do not hit women. Ava’s little legs kicked in the air. She was dangling, struggling, but surprisingly, she wasn’t crying. She wasn’t afraid. The staff, intimidated by Echo’s threats, kept their distance, offering only weak, useless pleas. Echo ignored them completely. She shot me a dark, cryptic look. “After I’m done with this little bastard, I’ll deal with you personally.” With that, she started carrying Ava towards the door. The staff exchanged panicked glances, but no one dared to intervene. Finally, the old butler blocked her path. Echo’s face darkened. “What? You dare to stand in my way?” The butler, sweating profusely, bowed his head respectfully. “Miss, please, let’s talk this through. Don’t be rash. Please, put the little princess down.” Seizing the opportunity, I lunged for my daughter, but Seth intercepted me. He blocked my path with a sinister grin. “Patrick, what are you doing? Don’t do anything foolish now.” I swung. My fist connected with his face with a satisfying crack. “If anything happens to my daughter,” I snarled, “I will make you both regret the day you were born.” Seth stumbled backward, crashing into a nearby vase, which shattered on the floor. He hit his head, and blood began to trickle from a cut on his forehead. Seeing him hurt, Echo’s eyes turned red with fury. She channeled all her rage onto Ava. “You dare touch Seth? I’ll kill this little bastard!” She lifted Ava high, preparing to hurl her to the ground. For a split second, my heart stopped. I dove forward on pure instinct. “AVA!” Seeing her mother’s friend turn into a monster, Ava, finally just a small child, burst into terrified tears. “Get away from me!” Echo screamed at me. “I’ll deal with you later!” I wrapped my arms around my daughter, holding her tight, refusing to let go no matter how hard Echo pulled and clawed at me. Finally, Echo’s patience snapped. She grabbed a heavy ceramic flowerpot from a nearby stand and swung it at my head. A searing flash of pain. I felt something warm and wet trickling down my face. The butler and others rushed to pull her back, but she screamed them away. “Miss, stop! That’s your aunt’s husband!” the butler cried, grabbing her arm to stop another blow. Just then, a calm, cool voice sliced through the chaos from the doorway. “What, exactly, is going on in here?” “You’d all better have a very good explanation for this.”

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Kevin drove over to pick me up. He was always so cool and distant. But today, his new secretary was sitting in the passenger seat. Right then, I knew. This marriage was over. 1 The day Kevin came to get me, I opened the passenger-side door and froze. A pretty young woman was sitting there, a sweet smile on her face. “Hi, Mrs. King!” She was polite, but she made no move to get out of my seat. My eyes narrowed, my gaze shifting to Kevin. He was on the phone, his head down, oblivious to the storm brewing right beside him. We were supposed to go to an auction together tonight. It was a date I’d been looking forward to, one I’d dressed up for. And here was someone else, sitting in my seat. “Hi, Mrs. King. My name is Bella. I’m Mr. King’s new assistant,” the girl said, her smile widening into two charming dimples. “I heard you were going to a private auction tonight, so I begged Mr. King to let me tag along and see what it’s like. Don’t worry, I won’t be a bother.” My heart plummeted. I knew this man. I knew the cool, perfect man I’d married. He kept his distance from everyone. He didn’t let people get close. Our marriage had been an arrangement, a strategic alliance between our families. We chose each other after careful consideration. People had joked that I was signing up for a life of lonely nights. But after we were together, he would hold me, his eyes soft. In moments of passion, the corners of his eyes would turn a faint red. “You’re my wife,” he’d said. “We are one. You’re different from everyone else.” Today, something was different. 2 But I am not some wilting flower who swallows her pride. I am Mary Lane, and I’ve never had to watch my words for anyone. “Get out.” My voice was ice. I showed no mercy. The girl stared at me, stunned. She clearly hadn’t expected me to be so blunt. The coldness in my tone left her speechless. “I… I’m sorry, Mrs. King,” she stammered, her voice trembling on the verge of tears as she scrambled into the back seat. Kevin hung up the phone just in time to see the aftermath. He knew I was angry. A look of weary indulgence crossed his face. He leaned over and fastened my seatbelt for me. I noticed the seat had been adjusted. Annoyed, I readjusted everything—the seat, the mirrors, the steering wheel—fuming. “This is so annoying! Who the hell dares to mess with my seat?” The air in the car turned frigid. The girl in the back didn’t dare make a sound. Kevin’s brow furrowed. “If you’re not in the mood today,” he suggested calmly, “we can just go home.” In the rearview mirror, I could see the woman silently crying. I was seething. “Bella, was it?” I said, my voice sharp. “I’m not in the mood anymore. You can take a taxi home. Mr. King and I are leaving.” The girl’s face went pale. She looked at Kevin for help, but he offered none. Dejected, she got out of the car. 3 Kevin would never humiliate me in front of others. He was a master of self-control. That’s why he suggested we go home. Whatever the problem, we would deal with it at home. That was our understanding. “She’s just a kid, fresh out of college,” he said, pulling me into his arms once we were inside. “Why are you getting so worked up over something so small?” “It’s the first time.” “What is?” “In all these years, this is the first time you’ve let another woman sit in your passenger seat.” He hadn’t expected that. He knew how many women were interested in him. He was a catch. But he’d always been so disciplined, never straying. He smiled, ruffling my hair. “I can’t believe I finally made you jealous.” He leaned in and kissed me, his nose brushing against my cheek. “She’s just my employee. That’s all. There will never be anything else between us.” He held my face in his hands, his gaze intense. “I promise.” 4 A woman’s intuition is rarely wrong. Even though I’d only met Bella once, I knew she had her sights set on Kevin. I thought my little display of dominance would be enough to put her in her place. I was wrong. The necklace from the auction—the one that was supposed to be mine—was around her neck the very next day. Michael, Kevin’s chief of staff, sent me a photo and a screenshot. In the photo, a diamond crescent moon necklace rested against Bella’s pale skin, making her look even more delicate and lovely. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she was smiling. She must have cried all night and received a little “gift” as a consolation prize. The screenshot was of her social media post: [ The boss says girls have to be strong, even when they’re upset! Wiping away the tears. Yes, sir, Mr. President! ] Followed by a series of cute, flexing-bicep emojis and a picture of the necklace in its box. My blood ran cold. I have to admit, it was hard to swallow. It felt like finding a dead mosquito squashed on a pristine white handkerchief. It was a strange, unsettling feeling. For a moment, I wanted to jump into my yellow Ferrari, redline it to her office, and slap her across the face. But then I looked at my own hands and thought, why am I even giving this cheap little tramp the time of day? I called my personal shopper at Hermès. Her voice was practically vibrating with excitement. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. King,” she promised. “I’ll move heaven and earth if I have to, but I’ll get you everything you need. It will all be delivered today!” And so, that afternoon, before the end of the workday, every single female executive assistant and senior administrator at King Corp—forty-six women in total, everyone except Bella—received a generous gift from the CEO’s wife: a twelve-thousand-dollar Hermès necklace. It wasn’t as expensive as the two-hundred-thousand-dollar auction piece, but the sheer volume of it made a statement. Michael, ever the smooth operator, instructed each recipient to post a picture on their social media with the caption: [ The boss’s wife says every girl deserves the best! Flexing my muscles. Yes, ma’am, Mrs. King! ] The women were more than happy to oblige. The executive assistants and senior admins were the gossip hub of the entire company. A gift from the CEO’s wife? They were ecstatic to post. Some of the savvier ones even added their own little flair: [Mrs. King really knows how to play the game!] Individually, these assistants might not have had much influence, but their collective reach was terrifying. Within half an hour, the entire company knew that the boss’s wife had gifted them all Hermès necklaces. As for why… the rumor mills were working overtime. Bella’s face was ashen. She looked utterly humiliated. With red-rimmed eyes, she fled to the bathroom and took off the diamond necklace. Two colleagues who came in to touch up their makeup saw her and snickered. Mortified, Bella kept her head down and hurried out, the sound of their laughter chasing her down the hall. Her cheeks burning, she put the necklace back in its box and returned it, untouched, to Kevin. 5 Kevin had just finished a video call with a partner when he saw her standing there, clutching the necklace box, looking miserable. She’d clearly been crying again. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Tears welled in Bella’s eyes before she could even speak. “Mr. King,” she whispered, her voice choked with sobs, “you should take this back. I can’t accept it.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Kevin’s handsome face. His gut told him something had happened, but he didn’t press. He just watched her. Bella bit her lip, hesitating, before finally telling him everything that had happened in the office that day. “I’m so sorry, Mr. King. I’m always causing trouble for you. I was just trying to cheer myself up with that post. I don’t know how Mrs. King found out.” She sniffled pitifully. “I didn’t think she would get so angry.” She looked like a sad little bunny. “Mr. King, I want to apologize to her. I can explain everything to her in person.” Kevin never looked at social media. His life was consumed by work. But as the CEO of a major corporation, he was all too familiar with the vicious cycle of office gossip. His already stern face grew even colder. “I see,” he said, his voice low. 6 That night, Kevin brought Bella home. The girl stood timidly behind him. “I asked Bella to come so she could explain things to you in person,” Kevin said with a sigh. “Mary, Bella is just my secretary. I gave her a gift to apologize for what happened yesterday. That’s all.” I stirred my spoon in the bird’s nest soup our cook had prepared and took a sip. “I’m sorry, Mrs. King,” Bella said, bowing deeply. She looked terrified, fragile. “It was the first time I’d ever received such an expensive gift. I got carried away. If I did something to upset you, please tell me. I’ll change, I promise!” I raised an eyebrow. “Bella, is it?” She glanced at Kevin, as if drawing courage from him, and nodded slowly. Seeing this little lamb trying to go head-to-head with me was almost comical. “I’m not your teacher, and I’m not your boss. I don’t have time to teach you how to behave. But I am Kevin King’s wife. And I don’t give second chances to anyone who tries to get too close to my husband.” The girl had probably never met anyone as direct as me in her entire life. Her face flushed, and she looked even more helpless. “Mary, Bella came to apologize,” Kevin said. He knew my temperament, my methods. Even if he didn’t approve of what I’d done, he understood why I’d done it. That’s why he’d agreed to let her come and apologize. He was trying to meet me halfway, to clear up the misunderstanding. We were both smart people. We could read each other with a single glance. “I know.” I decided to give him a chance. After all, he hadn’t actually cheated. “But there won’t be a next time. Not with anyone.” 7 “You didn’t have to resort to those kinds of tactics with her,” Kevin said as we were getting ready for bed. “You should have just told me.” I sat at my vanity, brushing my hair, staring at his handsome reflection in the mirror. “You knew I liked that necklace, but you gave it to another woman. Don’t I have a right to be angry?” I couldn’t imagine what I would do if this perfect man were ever to become tainted. Could I still love him? Kevin calmly poured himself a glass of ice water. “She cried all night because of your misunderstanding. I saw how swollen her eyes were in the morning, so I gave her the necklace as an apology.” His story was flawless. I studied him for a long moment. Two hundred thousand dollars was nothing to us. Giving it away on a whim was plausible. It just depended on whether the recipient was worth it. His fingers tapped against the marble countertop. He was waiting for me to think. This was the first time a third person had caused a rift between us. Our upbringings, our dispositions—we were both weary of this kind of drama. We were people who valued our dignity. “Kevin, I love you,” I said suddenly. His fingers stilled. He clearly hadn’t expected that. “Kevin, I love the version of you that is untouched, pure. That’s what sets you apart. You used to keep your distance from other women because you had emotional boundaries, because you wanted a clean marriage. I wasn’t like that before, but your values changed me. Now, we want the same thing. I hope our marriage never has to face a crossroads.” “It won’t,” he said, a note of frustration in his voice. “I haven’t done anything.” 8 Kevin was a very clear-headed person. He knew I was bothered, so he wouldn’t give Bella any more false hope. Without the CEO’s favor, Bella, as an intern, was relegated to the most basic tasks. Before, she’d had a chance to work the front desk. Now, Michael wouldn’t even put her on the schedule. I didn’t tell anyone to ostracize her. I trusted Kevin to handle it. But in a place like this, I didn’t need to. There were plenty of people willing to kiss up and kick down. Within two weeks, the new secretary couldn’t handle the fall from grace and the psychological pressure. She lost a noticeable amount of weight. The turning point came after an important board meeting. Bella had been assigned to clean the small conference room by herself. She was on her knees in a skirt suit, painstakingly scraping gum off the carpet with a razor blade. Kevin, who had returned to retrieve something, walked in on this scene. Sensing someone behind her, the girl scrambled to her feet, mortified. Kevin’s gaze was deep and cold. His silent stare stripped Bella of the last shreds of her dignity. “Mr. King,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. She wasn’t acting. Kevin was the sun she admired but could never touch. She had almost resigned herself to being marginalized. But to be seen like this… she wanted to push him away and run. In just two weeks, the once cheerful and lively girl had become this fragile. It was the first time I’d ever seen Kevin truly angry. He came home and slammed the glass of water I handed him onto the floor. It shattered. “Why won’t you just leave her alone?” he roared. “Mary, I respect you, I love you. I’ve tolerated your insults and your cruelty towards her time and time again. What kind of pleasure do you get from bullying someone weaker than you?” I remembered then. When Kevin was studying abroad, his younger sister, who was in middle school, had jumped to her death because of school bullying. It was a scar on his heart that would never heal, something he despised with a passion. “Mary, don’t let me see you use these tactics to hurt someone ever again. If you do, I won’t stand by and watch!” I stared at the man who had lost control. It was the first time since we’d been married that Kevin had lost his temper with me, all for another woman, for something I hadn’t even done. It was a terrible feeling. Like shattered glass. Like spilled water that could never be recovered.

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I flew home early to surprise my sister Nikki, but found our villa empty. Then I spotted fabric peeking from a locked dog kennel. Inside, Nikki was curled in a crate too small for a beagle. “Nikki?” I whispered, offering her favorite cream cakes. She shook violently. “No! Cakes are for Master. Dogs only eat kibble.” Melissa’s sickly-sweet voice came behind me: “Nikki prefers being a dog.” My pregnant stepmother wore the Dragon Seal – our family’s power symbol that Mom split between Nikki and me. Smugly patting her belly, Melissa said, “It’s a boy. Both seal halves will be mine.” I smiled darkly. She didn’t know Dad married into our family’s power… and became sterile after Nikki’s birth accident. 1 The cherished youngest daughter of the Shen family, now chained up in the yard like an animal. The sight of the iron collar around Nikki’s neck sent a blade of agony through my heart. No wonder I hadn’t heard from her in the three years I’d been abroad. Every time I asked my father, he’d brush me off, saying she was buried in her studies. Her bedroom had been taken over. The villa’s decor was completely changed, erasing every last trace of my mother’s presence. I pulled Nikki from the kennel, trying to brush the dust from her clothes. The dress she wore was one I’d given her three years ago. Now it was little more than tattered rags, barely covering her. I took off my own coat and wrapped it around her frail shoulders. “Melissa,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “How dare you treat a daughter of this family this way. You’ve got a death wish.” “Is that any way to talk to your mother!” My father, Mark, appeared behind Melissa, flanked by a group of men I didn’t recognize. Their eyes raked over me with open hostility. “My mother is dead,” I snapped. “This woman is nothing.” “Sarah! Melissa is my wife, which makes her your mother and the lady of this house! You will apologize to her this instant, or you are no longer my daughter!” “A gold-digging maid from the countryside who slept her way into this family is not my mother. And you, Mark, have you forgotten whose name is on the deed to this house?” My mother was the 75th heir of the Dragon Syndicate, a titan who straddled the worlds of legitimate business and the underworld. She commanded the Dragon Seal, giving her authority over eight thousand branches across the continent. A woman of immense power, who had somehow fallen for a man from nothing like my father. She had threatened to end her own life just to get her family to agree to let him marry in. Nikki and I were our mother’s daughters. We both carried her blood. Before she died, she split her Dragon Seal in two, giving each of us a half and warning us never to use its power unless it was a matter of life and death. Then, a sudden illness took her from us. My father claimed a young Nikki couldn’t be without a mother figure and brought Melissa, his supposed childhood sweetheart, into our home. “When I agreed to let her in this house, it was as a maid,” I seethed. “Not as its mistress!” Mark’s hand flew, slapping me hard across the face. “I’m the man of this house now! If you don’t like it, you can get out!” I cupped my stinging cheek. “Don’t you forget, you’re living in a villa my mother bought before you ever entered the picture. This is our property. If anyone’s getting out, it’s you and her!” “You ungrateful little—” He raised his hand again, but Melissa stopped him, a picture of false sincerity. “That’s enough, dear. She’s just a child, she doesn’t know any better. I won’t hold it against her.” She turned to me, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Sarah, darling, it’s not what you think. I haven’t been cruel to your sister. She’s the one who hates studying. She said she’d rather live like a dog.” “I tried to stop her from moving into the kennel, of course. She threw terrible tantrums. When I refused, she went on a hunger strike. I was at my wit’s end, so I finally gave in. If you don’t believe me, ask your father. Or ask Nikki herself.” Mark snorted. “Nikki’s a lost cause. She’d rather be a dog than go to school. A child that pathetic isn’t worthy of being my daughter.” Nikki tugged on my sleeve, her voice a rough whisper. “It’s true, Sarah. I don’t like school. I like being a dog. I like the kennel.” She let out two sharp barks. “Woof, woof.” “You are not a dog! You’re a person!” I cried, my heart breaking. I scanned the grounds and realized with a jolt that none of the old staff were here. The butler, the maids, the bodyguards—all replaced by these hostile strangers staring at me. “I don’t care what happened before,” I declared, my voice ringing with authority. “But I’m back now. And my sister will not be treated like an animal in her own home!” Melissa’s smile was a venomous mask. “Of course, Sarah. From now on, you can be the one to discipline her. Clearly, we can’t.” She picked up a tennis ball from the ground and tossed it across the lawn. Instantly, Nikki dropped to all fours and scrambled after it. She clamped the ball in her teeth and trotted back, dropping it into Melissa’s outstretched hand. Melissa threw it again. As Nikki started to chase it, I grabbed her, pulling her upright. “Nikki! You are a person, not a dog! You walk on two legs and hold things with your hands! Promise me, please, promise me you’ll stop this.” She just shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “No, I’m a dog. I like being a dog.” Melissa laughed, a loud, ugly sound, dangling the ball. “Want to play some more?” Nikki’s tongue lolled out, and she panted excitedly. “Yes! Yes!” “Enough!” I roared, turning on Mark. “Mom begged you on her deathbed to take care of Nikki! This is how you do it?” He shrugged, completely indifferent. “If she wants to throw her life away, there’s nothing I can do.” “The key,” I demanded. “Unlock the chain around her neck.” No one moved. I glared at the staff. “Are you all deaf?” “Get the key,” Melissa finally said, and only then did one of the men move. So, they answered to her, not to me. The moment the chain was removed, a wave of panic washed over Nikki. She ducked her head, trying to crawl back into the kennel. “I don’t want to be in the house! I’m a dog! I have to stay in my kennel!” I swept her into my arms. “Shh, Nikki, it’s okay. I’m going to take you to a doctor.” There was no time to clean her up. I drove her straight to the hospital. The examination revealed a horror story. It wasn’t just severe psychological trauma; her body was a roadmap of abuse. Clusters of scars and bruises covered her chest and back, conveniently hidden by her clothes. The doctor told me she had been whipped and beaten with rods. There were large patches of burn scars from scalding water. She had multiple healed rib fractures. There was even damage to her skull. Listening to the doctor’s clinical description, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. These people weren’t human. They were monsters. I held Nikki tight. “Don’t be afraid, Nikki. I’m here now. I’ll protect you. No one will ever hurt you again.” When we returned to the villa, Melissa was waiting for us, cradling her pregnant belly. “Sarah, dear. Your half of the Dragon Seal. It’s on you, isn’t it?” My luggage was in the living room, torn open and its contents strewn everywhere. “Who gave you permission to go through my things?” “Sarah,” Mark said, his tone impatient. “Just give your mother the seal. The baby she’s carrying is your brother. From now on, all of our family’s assets will be his to inherit.” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “The Dragon Syndicate values bloodline above all else. Only those of my mother’s line can lead it to prosperity. You really think the bastard in her stomach is worthy of even being considered as the heir?” Mark’s face turned a sickly green. “How dare you! That’s your brother, not some bastard!” “She knows the truth,” I said, looking directly at Melissa. She buried her face in Mark’s chest, sobbing theatrically. “I’ve only ever been with your father. How could you say something so vile about me?” “Apologize to your mother!” Mark roared. I ignored his tantrum, pulling Nikki with me towards my old room. He kept shouting at my back. “Your mother spent all day getting your room ready! She even bought your favorite fruits! Is this how you repay her kindness?” I slammed the door in his face, locking it. I could hear him yelling for his thugs to break it down, but Melissa’s saccharine voice eventually calmed him. After giving Nikki a bath and changing her into fresh clothes, I watched her fall into an exhausted sleep before finally lying down myself. Tomorrow, my own people would arrive. And then, we would settle this. I drifted into a restless sleep around midnight. When I opened my eyes again, the space beside me was empty. Nikki was gone. Adrenaline shot through me. I leaped out of bed and ran out of the room. I found her in the dining room. She was on her knees, serving breakfast to Melissa’s nephew, Gary. Gary saw me and sneered. “My aunt said Nikki is going to be my wife. She was born to serve me.” He looked down at my sister. “Good dog. You did a good job today. Here’s a treat.” He spat a half-chewed piece of bread onto the floor. Nikki immediately bent down and licked it up. Gary roared with laughter. “You’ll even eat my leftovers! You really are a dog!” He then climbed onto her back like a horse. “Giddy-up! If you run fast, I’ll give you another treat!” And so, my sister crawled around the room on all fours, with that vile boy riding her. “Faster! Are you trying to starve? If you don’t speed up, you won’t even get kibble later!” Nikki tried to crawl faster. Gary pulled a few pieces of dog food from his pocket and threw them on the floor ahead of her. She scrambled to eat them. “Stupid mutt! All you care about is food!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I launched myself forward and kicked Gary clean off my sister’s back. He hit the floor with a heavy thud and scrambled up, screaming at me. “You bitch! You hit me!” He yelled for the guards. “Get her! Tie her up!” “Who dares!” I roared, pulling Nikki into my arms and shielding her. “Gary, if you get on your knees and apologize to my sister right now, I might consider letting you live. Otherwise, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.” “Oh, listen to you!” he scoffed. “You think this is still your mother’s house? This family is run by Mark now! The Dragon Syndicate belongs to Mark! My uncle is in charge! Who the hell are you to yell at me?” He gestured to the guards. “Grab her!” The bodyguards surged forward, seizing me and Nikki. Melissa rushed over, playing the peacemaker. “Sarah, please. I’ve spoiled my nephew rotten, I know. He doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just playing with Nikki.” She gave me a sly look. “Tell you what. You give me your half of the seal, and I’ll make him apologize to you both.” “You want the seal? In your dreams!” Melissa’s face contorted with rage. The mask was gone. “You ungrateful bitch! Fine! Search her! The seal has to be on her!” “So, the act is finally over,” I said with a sneer. “Watching you pretend to be nice was making me sick.” “Hmph. You little tramp. If you were as obedient as your sister, I might have let you stay on as one of my pets. But you’re too wild. I can’t train you. I guess I’ll just have to have you sent away to be taught a lesson.” “You wouldn’t dare.” “Once I have the complete seal, the entire Dragon Syndicate will be mine. What wouldn’t I dare?” “Ma’am, I found it!” a guard announced. He handed my half of the seal to Melissa. Her eyes gleamed with triumph. She took her own half from around her neck and clicked the two pieces together. “Perfect! The Dragon Syndicate is finally mine! An empire that spans a continent, endless wealth… it’s all mine!”

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My ex-husband cheated. He didn’t just cheat; he had a child with the other woman. So I did the only thing I could. I was living a thousand miles from my family, all for him. When I found out, I took the house in the divorce, packed a bag for myself and my daughter, and drove right back to my parents’ place without a second glance. Ten years have passed. Now, with my daughter, Anna, accepted into Harvard, it’s time to sell that house and fund her future. To my shock, the house that should have been gathering dust was occupied by a family of strangers—who even produced a property deed. 1 The apartment building stood just as I remembered it, a monument to a life I’d left behind. A wave of nausea washed over me. I had poured my heart into a love that ended in betrayal. When Anna was eight, I discovered Kevin’s affair. The other woman was already three months pregnant. She hounded him, day and night, to divorce me. To get me to sign the papers, he offered me our only asset: the apartment, free and clear. I took the deal, the keys, and the deed, and never set foot in that city again. Ten years. It was time to finally close that chapter. I took a deep breath, pushing back the sour memories. My plan was simple: check on the place, then call a realtor. But as I stood before my old front door, apartment 1901, a knot of dread tightened in my stomach. A door untouched for a decade should be coated in a thick layer of dust, the metal tarnished. This door was clean. And hanging on it was a bright, festive wreath. My heart hammered against my ribs. Could Kevin, that piece of trash, have put it there? Unlikely. When we divorced, he couldn’t wait to be rid of me. The idea of him stopping by to hang a cheerful decoration was laughable. Whatever. I’d figure it out once I was inside. I pulled out my old key and slid it into the lock. It turned a fraction of an inch and then stopped, jamming tight. I jiggled it, pushed, and pulled, but the lock wouldn’t budge. What the hell? Could a lock seize up after ten years of disuse? It seemed impossible. After several more failed attempts, I was about to search for a local locksmith when the elevator doors hissed open. A young couple pushing a stroller emerged. I paid them no mind, assuming they were neighbors. Then the woman’s voice, sharp and accusatory, sliced through the quiet hallway. “Who are you? What are you doing at my door?” 2 I frowned, my head tilting. Her door? I glanced up at the brass numbers: 1901. This was my apartment. There was no mistake. Before I could answer, the man stomped toward me, his face a mask of aggression. “Spit it out. What are you doing, creeping around our place? Trying to break in?” I shot him a withering look. “I live here,” I said, my voice cold. “What would I need to steal?” He scoffed, turning to the woman with a smirk. “Don’t worry, honey. Just some crazy lady who thinks she can just claim an apartment.” That did it. My patience evaporated. He saw I wasn’t moving and grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my bicep. “Get the hell out of here. You pull this crap again, and you’ll regret it.” His foul language ignited a fire in me. “You don’t ask a single question, just start spewing garbage? Didn’t anyone ever teach you any manners?” He puffed out his chest, ready to escalate, but the woman, at least, had a shred of composure. “Then explain yourself,” she said, her arms crossed. “Why are you at our front door?” I took a steadying breath, trying to be the reasonable one. “This is my home. I’ve been living out of state for the last ten years and only just got back into town to…” The woman shrieked, cutting me off. “What are you talking about? We’ve lived here for six years! We have the deed. Look, you haven’t been here in a decade. You must have the wrong address.” For a second, a sliver of doubt crept in. I walked back to the elevator and looked at the building directory. Tower 1, Unit B, 19th Floor. This was it. I returned to the door. “No, this is the right place. And I have a deed, too.” Their patience was clearly gone. The man—I’d later learn his name was Leo—shoved his own key into the lock. It turned with a smooth, effortless click, and the door swung open. 3 The inside of the apartment was a disaster. My meticulously chosen wallpaper, a soft cream with a subtle texture, was scarred with scuffs, stains, and what looked like crayon marks. The floor tiles were scratched and chipped, some cracked straight through. My two-thousand-dollar Italian leather sofa was a Jackson Pollock of mysterious, grimy spots. Nothing looked like the home I had so carefully created. The woman, Cindy, rushed into a bedroom and returned moments later, thrusting a document in my face. “See? A real, official property deed. Tower 1, Unit B, 1901. Owners: Leo and Cindy Miller.” My mind went blank. I fumbled in my purse and pulled out my own folder. I opened my deed, right there in front of her. Her smug expression melted into confusion. Because my document also read: Tower 1, Unit B, 1901. Owner: Sarah Jenkins. Leo snatched my deed from my hands, flipping it over and over before tossing it onto the floor. “Get out of here with that fake crap! You think you can just scam your way into an apartment? This isn’t a free-for-all, lady. It’s a million-dollar property.” Cindy chimed in with a mocking laugh. “Seriously, lady. Some people rent their whole lives and do just fine. Did you really think you could just waltz in here and steal someone’s home? We’re not idiots.” She was right about one thing. It was a million-dollar property. And there was no way in hell I was going to let someone else live in it for free. My eyes scanned the room. The layout was the same, just… desecrated. I had overseen every detail of the renovation myself. Kevin had never shown up once. Suddenly, memories of the design flooded back to me. I began to speak, my voice steady and clear. “The master bedroom closet doors are white with a hidden grain pattern. The dresser against the wall has six drawers, and the handles are shaped like little pigs.” I looked straight at them. “The handle on the second bedroom door is Peppa Pig. The master is Mommy Pig.” “The wallpaper in the master bedroom is an underwater ocean scene. The second bedroom is a starry night sky…” Before I could finish, their jaws had dropped. Cindy pointed a trembling finger at me. “You… have you been in our apartment before? While we were out? How else could you know all that?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “I told you, this is my house. I designed it. I remember every single detail because I poured my soul into it.” They exchanged a nervous glance. Then, Leo grabbed his phone. “Brenda? You need to get over here. Now. We’ve got a real situation.” They didn’t offer me a seat, just left me standing awkwardly by the door. This was my home. I had lived here. Acting on instinct, I opened the shoe cabinet by the entrance. A wave of stench—stale sweat and old leather—hit me. Holding my breath, I reached up to the topmost shelf, my fingers searching the back corner. And there it was. A small, cool piece of metal. A spare key. It was an old habit of mine, always keeping a spare in the shoe cabinet. I never knew why, I just did it. And now, holding it in my hand, every last shred of doubt vanished. This was my house. 4 Soon, a heavy-set, middle-aged woman arrived, dragging a boy of about ten by the hand. He was drooling, a vacant look in his eyes. A strange sense of familiarity washed over me as I looked at the boy, but I couldn’t place it. As soon as Cindy saw the woman, she pointed at me. “Brenda, look! It’s this woman! She’s insisting this house is hers, and she even has a fake deed that looks just like ours!” Without a word, the woman, Brenda, marched right up to me and slapped me, hard, across the face. “Who the hell do you think you are? I’ve heard of people stealing wallets, but stealing a whole damn house? You’ve got some nerve.” The sting radiated across my cheek, stunning me into a moment of silence. I had lived half my life and never once been struck by another person. Who did this stranger think she was? Rage, pure and hot, surged through me. I didn’t hesitate. I slapped her right back, the crack echoing in the small entryway. Then, for good measure, I slapped her again. Her arrogant fury dissolved into shocked silence. She stared at me, a hand flying to her cheek, her eyes wide with a newfound caution. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?” “I’m the owner of this apartment,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I was gone for ten years, and it looks like you people saw an empty home and decided to squat. Did you really think I’d never come back?” She planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t you dare! We have a legitimate deed to this property. If you’re so sure, let’s take both our deeds down to the county records office and see who’s telling the truth!” I had a better idea. “There’s no need for that.” I pulled out my phone. “I’ll just call property management. I’ve been paying the HOA fees on this place every year, after all.” Brenda let out a derisive laugh. “You really won’t quit until you’re humiliated, will you? My husband pays those fees every year. Just wait. The manager’s going to come up here and laugh you out of the building.” A few minutes later, the property manager arrived. It was a young guy I didn’t recognize, not the manager from my time. Leo immediately slipped a cigarette into the man’s hand. “Hey, Rick. Sorry to bother you, but we’ve got a crazy lady up here claiming our apartment is hers. Can you believe the nerve?” Rick, the manager, seemed to be good friends with Leo, chuckling along with him. My blood began to boil. I was paying thousands of dollars a year for this? For a manager who didn’t even know who the actual homeowners were? 5 I looked at him. “Is Mr. Peterson still around? John Peterson?” He shook his head. “Don’t know him. I’m the manager now.” Fair enough. A decade was a long time. “Fine,” I said. “Then can you please look up the registered owner of this unit?” He gestured for us to follow him. “We’ll have to go down to the office. It’s all on the computer.” I started walking immediately. The others trailed behind me, grumbling. Leo was still complaining to Rick. “I’m telling you, man, the crazies are out in full force these days. Who tries to steal a whole apartment?” Down in the management office, I finally saw a familiar face. “Maria?” I said, a wave of relief washing over me. “Do you remember me? Unit 1901. I transfer you the HOA fees every year.” She peered at me, her brow furrowed in concentration. Then, her face broke into a wide smile. “Oh my goodness, Sarah! I barely recognized you! You look even better than you did ten years ago!” Finally. Someone who could vouch for me. The others exchanged uneasy glances. Rick, the new manager, looked confused. “Maria, you know her? She’s really the owner of 1901?” Maria beamed. “Of course, I do! The Jenkins were one of the first families to move into this building. I know them well. Here, look, I have her in my contacts. She sends me the payment every year like clockwork. I’ve got the records.” She started scrolling through her phone, trying to find my name among what was likely hundreds of contacts. The others started to snicker. “I think you’re mistaken, Maria,” Leo said. “My brother-in-law has been paying the fees. Not her.” Seeing her struggle, I opened my own phone, typed “Maria – HOA” into my search bar, and sent her a quick waving emoji. Her phone buzzed. “Ah, there you are!” she said, looking at me with an apologetic smile. “So many people, it’s hard to keep track.” 6 She turned her phone screen to show Rick the chat history. “See? Every January, on the dot. For the last ten years, she’s never missed a payment.” Rick’s jaw went slack. “You’re right. It’s all here.” The group behind me fell silent. Brenda was the first to break, her voice shrill with panic. “That’s impossible! My husband told me he paid the fees every single year! It has to be him!” I asked Maria to pull up the official ownership record on her computer. She typed for a moment, then turned the monitor towards us. “Here you go. Have a look for yourselves.” I didn’t need to look. But the three of them—Leo, Cindy, and Brenda—crowded around the screen. Their faces paled, one after another. Cindy was the first to snap. “No! This has to be a mistake! I have a deed! A government-issued document! Your system is wrong! It has to be!” Leo became frantic, raising his hand as if to smash the monitor. Rick grabbed his arm just in time. “Hey, calm down! Our system is directly linked to the county records. It doesn’t make mistakes. Maybe you should take a closer look at that deed of yours.” At that, both Leo and Cindy turned their furious gazes on Brenda. “Brenda, what the hell is going on?” Leo demanded. “You’re the one who gave us this apartment. You gave us the deed!” Brenda was sweating now, fumbling for her phone. “Honey? You need to get to Leo’s place. Right now. Hurry.” After hanging up, she shot a defiant glare at me and Maria. “Just you wait. When my husband gets here, he’ll set you both straight. We’ll see who’s laughing then.” My husband? I wasn’t afraid of him. What could he possibly do? Say that black was white? But half an hour later, when her “husband” finally arrived, all I could do was laugh. A bitter, ironic laugh.

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