My childhood friend and I got into a car accident. When I woke up, the love of my life, my best friend since we were kids, had amnesia. I was physically unharmed, but my body was now home to a second soul: my grandmother, who had passed away years ago. “That little rascal!” Her voice boomed in my head. “Using that amnesia excuse to trick my sweet girl again. If I were still walking this earth, I’d break his legs!” My eyes widened in shock. My grandmother’s voice continued its tirade in my mind. “In my past life, that little heartbreaker Primo Sinclair caused my darling so much pain. She spent years with him, suffering, until she had a heart attack that nearly killed her. And where was he? Celebrating a birthday with Victoria Cole! Makes my blood boil!” “Sweetheart, this time, when your grandfather asks you to choose a husband, you absolutely cannot choose Primo. You have to choose Christoph Hurley. That boy is reliable!” As if on cue, my grandfather walked into the hospital room with several other family elders. They laid out photos of the heirs to the four great families, telling me to pick a husband. Without a moment’s hesitation, I chose my sworn enemy, Christoph Hurley. I was always my grandma’s girl. If she said Primo didn’t love me, then I didn’t want him anymore. 1 My grandfather looked at me, his expression hesitant. “Serena, you and that little troublemaker have always been at each other’s throats. Are you sure you want him as your husband? Think carefully. Once the engagement is set, there’s no going back.” My grandfather was a titan in the world of archaeology. He had decreed that whichever heir of the four great families married me would secure a partnership with our family business. Primo’s mother was also stunned and quickly tried to persuade me. “Serena, sweetheart, I know Primo has amnesia and has forgotten you, but you’ve always loved him so much. Why aren’t you willing to wait for him? Maybe once you’re married, his memory will return.” Grandma let out a sharp scoff in my mind. “What nonsense! In the last life, that Victoria girl broke my darling’s jewelry. My sweet girl barely said a word, and Primo threw her out of the house. My poor Serena, in nothing but her pajamas, stood in the pouring rain for hours. She almost froze to death.” “It was Christoph who came and held an umbrella over her, took her to a hotel to rest. His mouth is sharp, yes, but his heart is in the right place.” Hearing this, a sharp pain lanced through my heart. I didn’t understand why my grandmother kept talking about a “past life,” about things that seemed to have never happened. But her words felt so real, as if I had lived them myself. They left me feeling suffocated, my chest filled with a thousand pounds of wet cotton. Besides, Victoria really was Primo’s first love. They had a deep history. I was just the one who came after. “Grandpa, I’ve made my choice. I want Christoph Hurley.” My grandfather gathered the photos and ruffled my hair. “Alright, my dear. Grandpa respects your choice. In two days, I will publicly announce your engagement to Christoph Hurley.” Grandma let out a long sigh of relief. “That’s right. This time, my little darling won’t be tangled up in the miseries of the past. She’ll finally be happy.” While my grandfather discussed matters with the elders, I changed my clothes and decided to take a walk outside the hospital. To my surprise, three tall, handsome men were standing right outside my door. They were all my childhood friends, all potential candidates for my hand. Primo was there. Only Christoph was absent. Caleb grinned and sauntered over, his curiosity piqued. “Serena, I hear your grandfather is picking a fiancé for you from the four of us. Who did you choose?” Owen chimed in playfully. “Do you even have to ask? It’s obviously Primo. Everyone in our circle knows Serena is head over heels for him. Treats him like a precious treasure.” Primo shot me a cool, detached glance. “I don’t remember anything from the past three years. I only remember that Victoria is my girlfriend.” He paused. “But I know we were together during those three years I’ve lost. Even though I don’t love you now, I can’t defy my father’s wishes. Since the engagement is set, I will marry you.” Grandma sneered. “In his dreams! In the last life, Primo used this same amnesia act to openly flirt with Victoria while draining my sweet girl dry, stealing our family’s fortune, and driving my darling to depression and a fatal illness. That rotten scoundrel can go to hell!” I looked at Primo’s indifferent expression. Without my grandmother’s warning, I probably would have fallen for his lies. I really did love him. And I used to believe he loved me too. Like three years ago, when he lit up the entire city with fireworks just for me. His eyes were so full of devotion, his words so sweet. “Serena, I want to marry you. I want to make you the happiest woman in the world.” I had wept with joy and started a relationship with him. For three years, we were the picture of a happy, loving couple. I never imagined that he had never forgotten Victoria. He just didn’t want to offend my family, so he put on a show of loving me. Now, tired of the act, he was faking amnesia to openly declare his love for Victoria, all while condescending to marry me to secure the partnership with my family. Life doesn’t work that way. I wanted to retort, but seeing his smug, self-assured expression, I swallowed my words. Let him be smug for a couple more days. I was curious to see his reaction when he heard the truth from my grandfather’s own lips. Seeing my silence, Caleb nudged my shoulder. “So, Serena, did you choose Primo?” I replied calmly, “You’ll all know in two days.” With that, I turned to leave. Behind me, Owen clicked his tongue. “Primo, it’s definitely you. You don’t remember, but let me tell you. When you were seriously ill, Serena searched the entire world for medicine for you. She heard the temple on North Mountain was miraculous, so she knelt and climbed nine thousand, nine hundred steps just to pray for your recovery. She’s completely smitten with you.” “Is that so?” Primo chuckled, his voice lazy. “I had no idea she loved me that much.” A sharp pain twisted in my chest. My vision blurred with tears, but I held them back. My love for Primo was an open secret in our social circle. Everyone laughed at me for being a doormat, but I didn’t care. I lost my parents when I was young, and my grandparents were always away on archaeological digs. I was an easy target for bullies. Only Primo protected me. I had loved him since we were children. When he confessed his feelings, I cried with joy and swore to be the best girlfriend he could ever have. But all his kindness had an ulterior motive. He didn’t deserve my sincere love. “Serena, wait.” Someone called my name. I turned to see Primo. He strolled over, one hand in his pocket. “I know you chose me. I’ll marry you, but my heart belongs to Victoria. I hope you can respect that and not interfere.” I stared at him. “You have amnesia. Why are you so certain I would choose you?” Primo frowned. “Everyone says you love me. Who else would you choose?” I gave a bitter smile. So he knew. He knew how much I loved him. And he chose to trample on my feelings anyway. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you anymore. I’ll grant you your wish.” I thought to myself, he’ll probably be thrilled when he finds out I chose Christoph. Hearing my quick agreement, Primo froze for a second. As I continued toward the exit, he subconsciously reached for me. Suddenly, a scooter swerved recklessly toward me. The wheel slammed into my leg, and I crumpled to the ground, my hands scraping against the rough pavement. Pain shot through me. Victoria’s face went pale. She scrambled off her scooter, crying as she tried to help me up. “Serena, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you! Please don’t be mad at me.” Before I could say a word, my grandmother’s furious voice erupted in my head. “This girl is pure trouble! Just like last time, always playing the victim or turning the tables to bully my sweet girl. She’s got Primo wrapped around her little finger. Those two are a matched set of bad news!” Seeing Victoria’s tear-streaked face, Primo’s heart melted. “It’s alright, Victoria. It’s a small thing. No one will blame you while I’m here.” He helped her up, then shot me a warning look. “She just bumped into you. You’re not going to make a big deal out of it, are you?” My arm was scraped raw. I gritted my teeth against the pain and pushed myself to my feet. Victoria looked at me pitifully. “Serena, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking. I’ll slap myself to make it up to you.” She raised her hand as if to strike her own face. Primo grabbed her wrist, then rounded on me. “Serena, it was an accident! Can you stop being such a bully all the time?” Grandma was even angrier. “That thick-skulled idiot! My sweet girl hasn’t said a single word, and that girl is crying her eyes out on her own. How dare he say my baby is bullying her! I’m so mad! Sweetheart, stand up for yourself! Slap the nonsense out of them!” Heeding her words, I raised my hand and slapped Victoria hard across the face. Then, I turned to Primo. “See? That is what you call bullying.” Victoria was stunned. Primo was frozen, his eyes turning cold. “Serena, you’ve gone too far…” I swung my arm again and slapped him just as hard. “That is what you call going too far.” For years, I had only ever obeyed him, never fought back. The blow left him completely bewildered. He stared at me, his teeth clenched. “Fine. Just fine. But you’ll regret laying a hand on me.” He turned to Victoria. “Victoria, let’s go. I’ll get you checked out.” Grandma scoffed. “Instead of caring for his injured fiancée, he’s fussing over some other girl. You’d only regret being with a blockhead like him! Oh, my poor baby, you’re hurt. It must hurt so much.” I looked down at my wound. Crimson blood was already seeping through. The bitterness and hurt I had suppressed came bubbling to the surface. When we were younger, whenever I got hurt, Primo would be frantic, wishing he could bear the pain for me. Maybe his love was a lie, but the friendship back then had felt real. Now, he ignored my injuries, even scolded me, terrified I would cause trouble for his true love. What my grandmother said felt more and more real. Even if I married him, I would just be repeating the same tragic story. 2 I wiped away my tears and went to find a nurse to bandage my hand. I noticed a group of nurses staring in one direction, so I followed their gaze. Just a wall away, I saw Victoria and Primo locked in an embrace, their eyes full of a soft, intimate light. I heard her gentle voice. “Primo, if Serena finds out you faked amnesia just so you could be with me openly, she’ll throw a fit, won’t she?” Primo stroked her hair. “So what if she knows? Everyone knows Serena loves me. Even with amnesia, she’ll be begging me to marry her.” Grandma snorted. “In his wildest dreams! My sweet girl didn’t choose you this time. She won’t be begging you for anything. Hmph, let’s see how smug you are in two days when the truth about the engagement comes out.” I smiled, though my face was as pale as paper, and there was no mirth in it. I didn’t want to hear anymore. I turned to leave with my bandaged hand. Suddenly, for reasons I couldn’t see, the crowd started screaming. “They have knives! Everyone, run!” The words ignited a panic. I was swept along with the crowd, but one of the assailants—a disgruntled patient’s family member causing a scene—grabbed me and raised a knife. I knew some self-defense, but my strength was limited. Seeing Primo notice the commotion, I swallowed my pride and screamed, “Primo, help me!” He instinctively started toward me, but Victoria clung to his arm, refusing to let go. “Primo, I’m scared! Please don’t go!” Primo hesitated. In that split second of hesitation, a new gash was added to my already injured arm. I sucked in a sharp breath of pain. Grandma was frantic. “Oh dear, this hospital dispute was a nasty one back then. Why did my sweet girl have to run into it today? And that deadbeat Primo! Faking amnesia doesn’t mean he’s actually forgotten everything. My baby would have walked through fire for him, and he won’t even save her! It’s too much!” I was losing strength from the pain. I clenched my teeth and yelled, “Primo, I’m begging you, help me! I’m going to die!” The words had barely left my mouth when Victoria let out a piercing scream. One of the assailants had lunged toward them. In an instant, Primo shielded her with his body and pulled her away, running. My mind went blank. I watched him run, protecting his true love, and a wave of despair washed over me. Even if the love was gone, I had loved him for so many years. I had been so good to him. In a life-or-death situation, couldn’t he spare me even a shred of pity? Couldn’t he help me, just once? Suddenly, the pressure on me was gone. Christoph Hurley kicked the man off me, pulled me into his arms, and shielded me as he pushed through the chaotic scene. “Go!” The chaos was quickly contained by security guards who subdued the assailants. I was still in shock, my body trembling uncontrollably. Christoph handed me a cup of hot water, his expression complex as he looked at me. I didn’t notice his mood, nor did I ask how he happened to be there. I just used my last bit of strength to thank him. News of the incident reached my grandfather, who was furious. He demanded an explanation from both the Sinclair and Cole families. The Coles quickly grounded Victoria and sent apology gifts. The Sinclairs were livid and forced Primo to come to my house to apologize.

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1 Alison Shaw’s startup collapsed, drowning me in debt. My archaeologist’s hands grew calloused hauling rebar for five years. When I finally saved enough, I trudged to the loan shark—only to find Alison lounging in a private dining room, curled against Jerry Prince with aristocratic ease. The loan shark and my foreman groveled before her: “Miss Shaw, we docked his pay, but he still saved $75K.” Alison’s fingers traced Jerry’s jaw. “No matter. Just add $1.5M to his debt. He’ll slave forever.” “Saw $75K shoes I liked,” Jerry murmured. “Of course, darling,” she purred. Then I realized—Shaw Holdings, the city’s largest firm, was hers. The CEO I’d once encouraged her to surpass… was Alison herself. I stood frozen outside the door, a pathetic figure hiding in the shadows, a bitter sting in my eyes. Inside, Jerry’s voice was laced with arrogance. “It’s my fault, really. I insisted on studying abroad after college. Alison was lonely, so she found Adrian to pass the time. He’s been clinging to her ever since.” Alison and I had fallen in love in college, a whirlwind of sweet, tender moments. She was so good to me, couldn’t bear to see me suffer the slightest injustice. After graduation, I was headhunted by a world-class archaeology team, while she dove into the world of startups. Less than three months later, she declared bankruptcy, saddled with colossal debt. To pay it off for her, I didn’t hesitate. I resigned from my dream job, where the starting pay was too low to make a dent. I threw myself into the brutal, thankless labor of a construction site. When the debt collectors showed up at our door, it was me who fell to my knees, begging them, head to the floor, for just a few more days. I never felt the hardship, because I believed our love could conquer anything. I never imagined the love itself was a lie. Hollowed out by despair, I made a call. It was to the woman who had led my old archaeology team. “Eva? It’s Adrian… That overseas project… is there still a spot for me?” There was a stunned silence on the other end, then an explosion of joy. “Of course! God, Adrian, I told you a hundred times not to quit! It’s a crime to let hands like yours go to waste on anything but archaeology!” She paused, her tone growing serious. “But this is a high-level security project. Once you’re out, it’s five years minimum. You need to be sure.” I looked down at my hands, a roadmap of scars and calluses. “I’m sure, Eva.” A chorus of cheers erupted in the background. My old team. My friends. “Hahaha, I knew he’d come around!” “Adrian Croft, you get your ass back here right now! We’ve been waiting for you!” Eva laughed, shushing them before speaking with formal gravity. “Adrian Croft, Project Dawnbreaker officially recalls you to active duty. We deploy in five days. Get your affairs in order.” After hanging up, I pushed open the door to the private room. Alison immediately shot up and rushed to my side. “Darling, you’re finally here! Mr. Wang was getting impatient.” The loan shark, taking his cue, puffed out his chest, his face a mask of contempt. “Look at this. These days, the debtor is the king, making the lender wait.” He sneered. “Where’s the money? Hurry up. All this skulking around gives me a headache.” Jerry swirled his wine, shooting me a sideways glance. “Probably didn’t scrape it all together. Hey, look what he’s wearing. Maybe he knows you have a taste for pretty boys, Wang. Came to sleep off the debt.” Alison had told me today was our anniversary. She’d given me a suit—a ridiculously provocative, open-weave suit—and told me to wear it for our celebration. Wang’s eyes roamed over my body like slimy slugs. Alison feigned indignation. “If you have the money, then pay up. What’s with this pathetic act? Don’t tell me you actually had that in mind.” I had been instinctively moving closer to her for protection, but her words froze me in place. I didn’t want to pay. But she had taken out the loan in my name. I handed the bank book to Wang, desperate for this to be over. He grabbed my hand as he took it, his grip tight. “Don’t be in such a hurry to leave. This is only seventy-five thousand. Your girlfriend still owes me one and a half million.” He produced a fresh IOU. The ink was still wet. Alison pulled my hand from his grasp, flashing Wang a look of pure ice before her expression melted into one of apology for me. “I’m so sorry, darling. I’m just so useless.” She looked up at me, her eyes pleading. “Could you just… go back to the site for a few more years? I promise, this is the last time.” The foreman chimed in right on cue. “Our site is a humble place. Mr. Croft here tendered his resignation the moment he got his wages. We can’t take back someone so ungrateful.” He gestured to Jerry. “But, our site’s real boss is right here. Why don’t you get on your knees and beg Mr. Prince?” Jerry, lounging in his chair, watched with amusement. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly. Mr. Croft is a university graduate. I’m not worthy of his respect.” He smirked. “But the foreman was your superior. How about you service him, make him happy, and then I’ll consider it?” I watched their performance, a cold wave of desolation washing over me. I wasn’t a fool. I remembered how real her love felt at the beginning. 2 Right after we graduated, she was ready to drop everything and follow me into the desolate deserts of the northwest for my work. But then came the cave-in. She threw herself over me, taking the brunt of the impact before being knocked unconscious. I clawed through the rubble with my bare hands until they were raw and bleeding, crawling out on my last breath to scream for help. When I woke up, something in her had changed. A glacial shift. We were penniless back then. Her surgery was expensive. I swallowed my pride and went to my teammates, borrowing from everyone I could. I scraped together just enough to cover her costs. My own broken leg, I just gritted my teeth and bore the pain. To this day, it aches deep in the bone whenever the rain comes. That fifteen hundred dollars for her surgery. It’s laughable. To the real Alison, it was less than the cost of a bottle of wine. But she watched, cold and silent, as that pittance of a debt nearly broke my back. That was also when Jerry appeared, introduced as her “childhood friend.” He swept into our small desert town like a prince, all flash and money, turning every head. He repeatedly came to my dig site to cause trouble, belittling my work and my skills. Once, he complained he was cold. To keep him warm, Alison threw my archaeology journals into the fire. Those were my field notes—months of sleepless nights, the very key to my application for a global fellowship. The same notes she once treasured, helping me organize them every night. With one careless word from Jerry, they were reduced to ash. Alison didn’t even blink. “He comes from a noble family. He’s bound to be a bit arrogant. Just bear with it.” I thought she was still angry, blaming me for the accident. I spent that time trying to win her back, trying to please her in every way, even offering myself to her. In our shabby rented room, she rediscovered a certain hunger. For a month, she didn’t let me leave that room. We plumbed the depths of desperation and desire. Her mood softened. She suggested we return to the capital so she could start her business. I resigned immediately and followed her back. I never expected it would lead to this. Alison buried her face in my chest, her voice a low murmur. “Darling, Jerry is a kind person. Just beg him properly. I’m sure he’ll let you go back to work. You’ve been on a construction site for five years. No one else will hire you.” She was pushing me into hell, all while pretending it was for my own good. I couldn’t take it anymore. I shoved her away and stormed out. Back at our “home,” I started packing. For five years, to save money, we had lived in a cramped tin-walled shack on the construction site. One room, shared with six other guys. The only space that was ours was a single, small bed, curtained off for a sliver of privacy. Alison was often out late, working “odd jobs,” she said. She rarely slept here. I thought she was being considerate, knowing how cramped it was for two. Now I realized it was pure disdain. She only came back when she wanted sex. She was never quiet. The entire shack could hear everything. And when she was finished, she would leave, leaving me alone to face the leering, knowing glances of the other men. The men on the site were lonely. They weren’t picky. And I was fair-skinned. I endured more than my share of humiliation. The memory brought a fresh wave of shameful tears. Alison burst in and saw me packing. Her face contorted with rage. “You’re actually quitting? What, you’re too proud for this work now? What’s next, are you going to leave me, too?” I turned, my gaze locking onto hers. “It’s not that I don’t want you anymore. It’s that I can’t afford you, Miss Shaw.” She saw the tears streaming down my face and froze, a flicker of fear in her eyes. “You… you know?” That fleeting expression. It was so familiar. It was the look of the university student I fell in love with, the one who looked at me with such aching tenderness. I met her in our sophomore year. She pursued me relentlessly. Back then, she was the vibrant, popular girl on campus. I was an orphan who had to fight for everything. We were worlds apart. I didn’t have the courage to start a relationship with no clear future. But she never gave up. She was just… there. A quiet presence while I studied, took exams, worked part-time jobs. Then, in our junior year, she told me her family had gone bankrupt. She asked if she could stay with me. I opened my life to her without reservation. I found her part-time work, taught her how to handle difficult customers and unreasonable bosses. Naturally, we fell in love. Just before we graduated, she worked for three months at a bar, enduring countless indignities, to buy me a necklace. It was a simple chain with a plain silver band, plated in gold, hanging from it. She knew my ambitions were vast. She said she didn’t want to trap me in marriage. She said that whenever I felt ready for a home, I should just put on that ring, and she would come running to marry me. I laughed at her then. “What makes you so sure I’ll ask?” She hugged me tightly. “I, Alison Shaw, will marry no one but Adrian Croft in this life.” She paused. “But… if you ever decide you don’t want me, you can use this ring to ask for one favor instead.” “Any favor?” She nodded solemnly. “Even if you asked for my life, I would give it to you.” The memory of that happiness shattered, revealing the twisted face of the woman before me now. She grabbed my throat, the ring on the necklace digging painfully into my skin. She pushed me onto the bed, her hands tearing at my clothes. 3 Humiliation burned through me. I struggled, but she easily overpowered me, her voice dripping with scorn. “What’s this? Playing coy now? Where was this modesty during that month you couldn’t get enough?” She sneered. “You’re broke, and I’m rich. How about it? One night for a million and a half? A good deal, no?” Some lingering memory of our past kept me from truly fighting back. But she was relentless, her hands roaming, her voice a cruel chant. “You owe me this, Adrian. You owe me!” I stared blankly at the shaking bedframe, my mind numb. What could I possibly owe her? Jerry’s voice drifted in from outside. “Sera, can you please come with me? This place stinks… and the way these men are looking at me is disgusting.” Alison stopped abruptly, scrambling to fix her clothes. She couldn’t bear for her precious Jerry to endure those filthy, lecherous stares. She had no idea I lived with them every single second of every day. She opened the door, and Jerry immediately pulled her to his side. Alison shot a warning glare at the other men in the room. But the door was open, and I was still half-undressed on the bed, completely exposed to their hungry eyes. I scrambled to cover myself. As they were leaving, Jerry shot a subtle, meaningful glance at one of the men. His eyes met mine for a second, full of venom.

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I was cashing out, selling my shares in the startup I’d built from the ground up. I was getting married. But the two women who’d sworn they’d never marry anyone but me—my co-founders—had no idea. They were too busy throwing a party for the new male secretary… a celebration for a deal I had closed. A deal that had cost me a night of drinking myself into a bleeding ulcer. While I was passed out, he’d just dumped me in the hotel room, grabbed the signed contract, and raced back to the office to claim all the glory. And Kate and Laura, my brilliant partners, had swallowed his story hook, line, and sinker. The next day, a compromising photo of me went viral in the company’s group chat. The whispers started instantly: all my brilliant successes were just the result of me being some rich older woman’s boy toy. I called them from my hospital bed, trying to explain. Their response? “Don’t be so thin-skinned, Kevin. You’re a grown man. And stop making up stories about a bleeding ulcer.” “You’ve got an iron stomach. You could drink drain cleaner and be fine.” “We’re celebrating Jim’s big win. Come if you want, don’t if you don’t.” … The day I was discharged, I went back to the office just long enough to sell my shares to their biggest competitor. Then I called home. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry Sophie. You can start planning the wedding.” Just as I hung up, Kate and Laura pushed open my office door, their brows furrowed. “A wedding?” Kate asked, her voice tight. “What wedding?” It was only ten days away. No point in hiding it now. “Mine,” I said, my tone flat. “I’ll send you an invitation.” They stared at me, disbelief clouding their faces. As if on cue, my phone began buzzing incessantly—a dozen design drafts for wedding rings from my mother. They leaned in, their eyes widening as they saw the images. Kate’s disbelief soured into annoyance. “What are you doing ordering wedding rings, Kevin? Are you planning to wear one on each hand?” Laura interrogated me like I was on trial. “You’re a workaholic. You don’t even have a girlfriend. Who the hell are you marrying?” The irony was thick enough to choke on. The same two women who had once promised to spend their lives with me now stood there, looking at each other in baffled confusion. Just then, Jim waltzed in with a stack of documents, having overheard our conversation. His face was a mask of shock. “Mr. Beaumont,” he said, his voice dripping with faux concern, “you’re not planning on becoming Mrs. Davis’s boy toy, are you? I heard her kids are already in college. This… this doesn’t seem right.” Thanks to him, the entire office now believed I was sleeping with our biggest client. My gaze turned to ice. “Entering my office without knocking is just bad manners. Stealing my credit and then spreading sleazy rumors about me… is that just ignorance of the law?” My sharp tone made Jim’s eyes well up with tears. He stammered an apology, wringing his hands. “Mr. Beaumont, I didn’t… I never thought the others would misunderstand like this. But you and Mrs. Davis, in that hotel room…” He trailed off, his face flushing a deep crimson, unable to finish. But the implication hung in the air, and it was enough. Kate and Laura’s faces darkened, their eyes now regarding me with undisguised contempt. “That’s enough!” Kate snapped, her fury directed at me. “If you don’t want people to know, don’t do it in the first place. Don’t take out your humiliation on Jim just because you got caught.” “He’s just looking out for you,” Laura added, her voice laced with disgust. “Mrs. Davis is old enough to be your mother. Are you really so determined to debase yourself by becoming her side piece?” I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. Without another word, I threw all three of them out of my office. The bonds of our childhood, the five years we’d spent building this company together… all of it meant nothing. They wouldn’t believe me, but they’d trust the word of a man who’d been here for less than two months. I refused to waste my anger on them. I went back to scrolling through the ring designs my mother had sent. Not two minutes later, a notification popped up in the company group chat. It was from Kate. I was to switch offices with Jim. The reason? As her secretary, his office needed to be closer to hers to “improve workflow efficiency.” The chat, filled with hundreds of employees, exploded with sycophantic congratulations for Jim. A few loyal members of my team questioned the decision, pointing out the absurdity of a fresh-faced graduate, only two months into the job, being handed the general manager’s office. I was about to message them privately, telling them to stand down, when Jim posted a voice message, his tone pitiful. “Kate, it’s all my fault. I was so focused on the contract that night that I failed to take care of Kevin. I don’t deserve his office. I can’t even face him. I… I’d like to submit my resignation.” His performance was so nauseating it made me want to gag. The glass door to my office was kicked open. Laura stood there, glaring at me. “Look what you’ve done! Pack your things and clear out for Jim. Now. I don’t want to see you bullying a kid who’s just starting out in his career.” Kate followed close behind, urging me to hurry up while simultaneously typing reassurances to Jim in the group chat. Suddenly, someone in the main office shouted that Jim was on the roof. The color drained from both their faces. Without a second glance at me, they sprinted towards the rooftop. As their frantic figures disappeared, I calmly picked up my phone and dialed the number of someone who’d long been interested in my shares. Victoria, Kate and Laura’s arch-nemesis, had somehow heard I was selling and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I checked the email I’d sent Kate and Laura. Yesterday had marked the 30th day since I’d sent them the notice of sale. Their lack of response meant they had forfeited their first right of refusal. Victoria had given me three days to consider. I replied instantly, telling her we could sign the papers today. By the time they had coaxed Jim down from the roof and returned, they found my office untouched. Their patience had worn thin. “It’s an office swap, Kevin, not a cross-country move. What’s taking you so long?” At Laura’s words, Jim bit his lip, his eyes, red and swollen, fixed on me. “Mr. Beaumont, I’m so sorry. I… I don’t really need this office…” “It’s fine,” I said breezily. “If you like it, it’s all yours. You can have the General Manager title, too, while you’re at it.” My words made fresh tears spring to Jim’s eyes. Gone was the ruthless ambition he’d shown when he stole my deal. “What’s with the sarcasm, Kevin?” Kate challenged. “It’s just an office. Is it really worth being this petty?” Having already sold my shares, I couldn’t care less about the damn office. The dismissive look on my face must have infuriated Laura. She strode forward and unceremoniously dumped my few belongings onto the empty desk outside. Kate shot me a cold look before personally starting to arrange Jim’s new office. HR was parading in with potted plants, then fresh flowers and collector’s figurines. You’d think they were decorating a honeymoon suite. Finally, the workday ended. Kate rapped her knuckles on my temporary desk. “Don’t leave. We’re all going out for a team dinner to celebrate Jim’s new office.” I was taken aback. A celebration for an office change? Still, I didn’t refuse. I’d treat it as one last meal with my colleagues. It was only at the restaurant that I discovered the truth. The few employees who had spoken up for me in the group chat had all been fired, dismissed under flimsy pretexts by Kate. I messaged them one by one. They told me Kate and Laura had threatened them, warning them not to contact me or they’d be blacklisted from the industry. To appease Jim, they had turned on their oldest, most loyal employees. This ‘kill the chicken to scare the monkey’ tactic had worked; no one else dared to cross them for my sake. One brown-noser even took the chance to mock me. “Kevin, you missed Jim’s last celebration. You’d better give him a proper toast tonight. If it weren’t for him closing that deal, who knows what else you would’ve had to… sacrifice.” The insinuation was clear, bringing back the disgusting comments I’d overheard in the restroom earlier that day. “The nerve of Kevin, showing his face like nothing happened.” “A guy who sleeps his way to the top doesn’t need a sense of shame.” Ignoring the stares, I poured myself a glass of soda and took a small sip. Kate’s face instantly hardened. She snatched the glass from my hand and dumped it out. With practiced coordination, Laura filled it to the brim with hard liquor. “You bullied Jim so badly today he almost jumped off a roof,” Laura said, her voice sharp. “A drink to apologize isn’t too much to ask, is it?” “Besides,” Kate added, “you owe him one from the last party you skipped.” Without a second thought, I flung the contents of the glass into Laura’s face. “Who the hell is he to deserve a toast from me?” The table fell silent, everyone stunned by my action. Kate, ever the stoic one, simply refilled the glass and pushed it towards me again, her expression stubborn. “Kevin, this is for team unity. You’re drinking it, whether you like it or not.” Jim, ever the actor, feigned concern. “Kate, Laura, it’s okay. I know Mr. Beaumont looks down on me. If he doesn’t want to drink, let’s not force him. We shouldn’t ruin the mood…” But Laura, still dripping with liquor, was having none of it. Her fury boiling over, she slapped me hard across the face. Before I could react, she grabbed the glass and force-fed the fiery liquid down my throat. “You sleep your way into deals,” she spat, “what right do you have to look down on him?” The same two women who once feared me drinking a single drop of alcohol were now pouring it down my throat for Jim’s sake, their words dripping with venom. The searing liquor burned a path from my throat to my stomach. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. But they didn’t notice. They were too busy pouring Jim his favorite fruit juice. He drained the glass in one go and shot me a triumphant smile. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Kevin. I’ll work even harder from now on.” The others assumed he was talking about the office. But I saw something more in his eyes: the unshakeable confidence of a man who knew he had already won Kate and Laura over. “Well then,” I said, my voice strained, “here’s to you marrying the bosses and reaching the pinnacle of your life.” I clutched my stomach, a searing pain shooting through me, and tried to head for the restroom. Kate blocked my path. “A couple of sips and now you’re putting on a show? Stop talking nonsense and sit down.” The burning in my gut was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. My eyes, red with pain and fury, met hers. “I just got out of the hospital for a bleeding ulcer,” I rasped, “and you force-feed me liquor?” Her hand, which had been blocking me, froze mid-air. “Could you at least come up with a believable excuse? You’ve been drinking for years, and we’ve never seen you with a bleeding ulcer.” Laura, the one who’d poured the drink, chimed in with her own skepticism. “I barely got a mouthful in you. A guy who can drink anyone under the table, and you’re acting like this? Seriously?” It’s easy to be dismissive when it’s not your own body in agony. There was a time when Laura, seeing me drink with clients to close a deal, would ask with tears in her eyes, “Kevin, there are so many other clients. Is one deal really worth it?” Back then, she and Kate would cry just seeing me drunk. They’d brew me hangover remedies, take turns staying up all night by my side, just to hand me a glass of warm water when I was thirsty. The next day, they’d march into the office with dark circles under their eyes, determined to work twice as hard to justify my sacrifice. We had survived the hardest days of our startup. The two women who had sworn themselves to me were now championing another man at my expense. “I just need to use the restroom,” I said through gritted teeth. “Is that really so much to ask?” My stomach convulsed, and I bent over, leaning against the wall just to stay upright. A female colleague was the first to notice something was seriously wrong and moved to help me. Kate pushed her away, forbidding her from touching me. “So this is your trick, Kevin? You play the frail victim after a few drinks to win over your female clients?” The colleague who had tried to help me blushed, mortified. “Kate, I think you’re mistaken. Look at him, his face is pale white!” Laura scoffed. “He’s just putting on an act because he’s embarrassed.” I couldn’t blame her for not believing me. For years, no matter how sick I felt from drinking, I had always toughed it out. It was the path I’d chosen. I loved the grind of building something, the validation of success. In their eyes, I was made of iron. Jim, having enjoyed the show long enough, now approached with a cup of hot water, playing the part of the concerned friend. “Kevin, it doesn’t matter how you landed the deal. You’re a hero to this company. We’re all grateful for your contribution.” His words were gasoline on a fire. Kate, who had been supporting me, suddenly snatched her hand away as if I were something filthy. “If you don’t want to be here, then just go home,” she said, before turning and walking to the restroom to scrub her hands clean. Under the contemptuous gazes of everyone in the room, I clutched my stomach and turned to leave. But Jim wouldn’t let me. He grabbed my arm, and in the struggle, the scalding water from his cup sloshed out, splashing onto both of us. I recoiled instinctively, pushing him away. Most of the hot water drenched my hand. Laura shot up from her seat, yelling for a waiter to bring an ice pack for Jim. She was completely oblivious to the fact that my hand had taken the worst of it. Jim had a small red patch, the size of a quarter. My entire hand was a blazing red. Kate emerged from the restroom just in time to see Jim on the verge of tears. Her anger finally erupted. “Kevin, have you no shame? Jim is trying to help you, and you attack him?” At that moment, a wave of grief washed over me. I fought back the stinging in my nose and let out a bitter, hollow laugh. Seeing me laugh, Kate grabbed me and dragged me in front of Jim. “I don’t know what you find so funny. Apologize to him. Now.” Laura, busy applying the ice pack to Jim’s hand, chimed in, “He has to apologize! If that burn scars, it’s over!” My hand trembling, I held up my own scalded skin for her to see. She didn’t even look, just slapped it away. The searing pain intensified, a sharp, stabbing agony now mixed with the burn. Kate watched me like a hawk. “What, you won’t apologize? Are you going to hit him again?” I shouldn’t have even tried. A colleague sitting nearby finally saw the state of my hand and spoke up hesitantly. “Kate… Kevin is burned too…” Kate’s brow furrowed. A flicker of something—was it concern?—crossed her eyes as she instinctively reached for my hand. But then Jim let out a sharp hiss of pain, and her face hardened again. She flung my hand away. “Serves you right! If you hadn’t been such a drama queen, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. You’re a liability.” “Apologize and get out.” An apology was impossible. But I was done humiliating myself. Seeing my refusal, Jim put on a brave face. “Kate, I’m fine… You should take Kevin to the hospital. A burn like this really hurts… Ah!” His sudden cry sent Kate and Laura into a panic. They fussed over him, checking his hand, the chaos escalating until someone was actually calling for an ambulance. I turned my back on the circus and walked out without a second thought. Sometime during the dinner, it had started to rain. As I stood at the curb, wondering whether to make a dash for a taxi, Laura came out. I thought for a moment that her conscience had gotten the better of her. Instead, she just tossed a jacket at me. “Here are your things. Stop being so careless and expecting me and Kate to clean up after you.” I looked down at the light-colored suit jacket, now stained with red wine. I threw it directly into a nearby trash can. Laura was furious. “Kevin, what the hell is that supposed to mean?” It was a custom suit she and Kate had bought for me together. There was a time they would fight over whose gift I would wear for the day. Eventually, they started splitting the cost of everything, just to keep things “fair.” “It’s dirty,” I said, my voice empty. “It’s time to throw it out.” Just like them. Their hearts were tainted. It was time to throw them away. For a split second, a look of profound loss flickered across Laura’s face, as if she’d just felt something important slip through her fingers. But her attention was quickly drawn back to Jim. I hailed a cab in the pouring rain, went home, took my medication, and iced my hand until the throbbing pain finally subsided. The next morning, I woke up to my phone blowing up with texts from strangers—a flood of lewd messages asking for my “rates.” Then another message came through, this one with a link. My private information, my photo, had been posted on a porn site.

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My childhood sweetheart and my brother both fell for the new scholarship girl, Jane Reed. One of them, my fiancé, turned his back on our betrothal, sneering, “A princess like Elara Vance? I’m not man enough to handle that.” The other, my brother, forgot our mother’s dying wish. “Jane’s had it so tough,” he’d pleaded. “Is it really so wrong if I just give her half the love I give you?” On my birthday, my fiancé chose to be with Jane. On the anniversary of my mother’s death, my brother was at a party, celebrating with Jane and her mother. And while they were off in Port Moore, accompanying Jane as she accepted a prestigious design award, I set a match to the house that held all our memories. I faked my death and vanished from Crestwood. But when the news of my demise reached Port Moore, the two men who had grown so tired of me went mad, rushing back to Crestwood that very night. They knelt before the smoldering ruins of the house, their cries echoing in the ashes.

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1 To run away with me, my girlfriend, Sarah, agreed to have a child with her childhood friend, Liam, to carry on his family line. After their first son was born, she told me the baby was too young to be without his mother. She asked me to wait until he was three. Three years passed. Then she said his family wanted a daughter to make the family “complete.” She asked me to wait a little longer. I waited and waited. I watched 1,460 sunrises and sunsets over Mount Rainier. When I finally thought we could leave, I found she had scheduled a vasectomy for me. When I stood before her with the surgical notice and my hiking pack, she clung to Liam and pleaded with me, “His grandparents want a third grandchild. Can you just wait a little longer?” The moment she said it, the world spun, and I fell down the stairs. In my last moments of fading consciousness, I saw Sarah looking down at me, her gaze cold and distant. “This is what you get, Matt, for not knowing your place.” I slowly closed my eyes, my heart finally dead. It was time to leave. Alone. “Well, well, if it isn’t the leech who’s always clinging to Miss Spencer. I heard he’s been trying to worm his way into the family.” “See? Karma’s a bitch. The Spencers gave specific instructions: no holding back during the procedure. Just castrate him.” “Once he’s got nothing down there, let’s see how he bothers Miss Spencer then! Serves him right!” I opened my eyes and tried to sit up, but a sharp, piercing pain shot through my lower body. Hearing me stir, the two nurses by my bed fell silent, but the contempt in their eyes was unconcealed. I was used to these stinging glares. “How long can I stay here?” I asked. The heavier nurse’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Mr. Hayes, you can be discharged right now. Of course, you can stay as long as you like. We will be happy to serve you.” She then pulled the other nurse away, her mocking voice trailing behind her. “You see that? A grown man with red eyes, about to cry? Who’s he putting on a show for? Is he waiting for Miss Spencer to come? Give me a break. She’s got the handsome Mr. Lawson. Why would she come looking for him? He must be delusional.” I lowered my gaze and lifted the blanket, looking at the bloodstains on my pants. A bitter smile touched my lips. They were mistaken. I wasn’t waiting for Sarah to come. I was trying to hide for a few days. It was her ovulation period. Every month at this time, they would be inseparable, their passion unbridled and on full display. Every time, the sounds of their lovemaking were like daggers, stabbing me over and over. But I couldn’t say a word. Sure enough, ten days later, when I limped through the door, my face pale, they were on the sofa, wrapped in a post-coital kiss. Liam was kissing Sarah’s neck, his eyes meeting mine with a provocative smile. He suddenly bit down harder. Sarah gasped, a mix of protest and pleasure in her voice. “Liam, we’ve been at it all morning. You’re insatiable. The pregnancy test is already positive!” She picked up the test from the table, bouncing with joy. “Two lines! Liam, I’m pregnant with your third child!” 2 Then, she pouted and playfully hit his chest. “Oh no, you were so rough just now. What if you hurt the baby? You’re terrible!” Liam wrapped his arms around her, his hand gently caressing her stomach. “Of course not. Daddy will be gentle from now on. I won’t scare our little one.” Sarah leaned against him, her face radiant with the joy of impending motherhood. It was a stark contrast to the cold, calculating woman who had drugged me and sent me for the procedure. Even though I knew this was coming, my heart still clenched in pain. Sarah finally noticed me standing at the door. She froze, instinctively pulling away from Liam. Her voice was tinged with apology and guilt. “Matt, you heard? We didn’t have a choice. Grandpa said the company is too much for just two children to handle. A third heir is a safer bet.” “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have to bother Liam, who’s already so busy, to make a baby with me.” She gave Liam an apologetic kiss, completely oblivious to my ashen face. Liam deepened the kiss, chuckling as he ran his fingers through her damp hair. “It’s nothing, Sarah. As long as it makes you happy.” As they were about to get lost in each other again, a wave of resentment surged through me. I stood up straight and interrupted them. “Then why isn’t my child good enough?” Sarah’s expression became complicated, her brow furrowed. “Matt, what are you talking about?” I gave a humorless smile and asked again, “Sarah, wouldn’t my child be your child too? Not worthy of being born?” Before she could answer, a toy car came flying from upstairs and hit me on the forehead. An angry, childish voice followed. “Not worthy! Not worthy! You’re a creepy old man! Stop bothering my mommy! You’re not allowed to bully my mommy!” I stumbled back a few steps. Just as I regained my balance, a small boy came running at full speed and knocked me over. It was Sarah and Liam’s three-year-old son. “Creepy old man! How dare you come back! I won’t let you in my house! Get out!” He started punching and kicking at my groin. The area was already a mess of infection and decay from the botched surgery. If I hadn’t gone to a clinic in time, I might have lost everything. There was no way I could withstand a child’s frantic assault. I scrambled to get away, my body trembling with pain. Sarah saw the beads of sweat rolling down my forehead and quickly pulled her son away. “Leo, is that how you talk to your Uncle Matt? Apologize!” But Liam caught her raised hand. He stepped between us, frowning. “Sarah, why are you being so harsh with him? Have you forgotten what you promised me?” “Besides, how much strength can a little kid have…” Liam trailed off, shooting me a disgusted look. The concern on Sarah’s face faded, replaced by disappointment. She turned to me, her voice laced with exasperation. “Matt, you’re a man. It was just a small procedure. How can it still hurt after all this time? Are you really going to hold a grudge against a child?” “Besides, you were the one who said something inappropriate. Don’t say it again.” I bit my trembling lip. 3 Seeing I had no intention of backing down, Sarah’s face grew stern. She pushed me towards the nursery. “Alright, alright, Matt, go take care of the baby.” “You’ve been looking after her since she was born. She’s more attached to you than to me or Liam now. When she cries, no one else can soothe her. It’s exhausting.” I stood up, the pain shooting through me, and met her gaze. “Sarah, I told you, I’m not doing it anymore. I’m not your nanny.” But as if on cue, the family’s old housekeeper, Mrs. Lee, rushed out and shoved Sarah’s newborn daughter into my arms. “Matt? Oh, you’re finally back! Miss Spencer said you had a little procedure. Why stay in the hospital so long? A grown man, so delicate!” She shot me a disdainful glance. “Quick, quick, take her! These old bones of mine are about to fall apart. There, she’s all yours now. Take good care of her.” Then she shooed Sarah and the others out the door. “Miss Spencer, Mr. Lawson, what are you still dawdling for? Did you forget you’re taking Leo to the family dinner tonight? Look at the time, let’s go, let’s go!” I tried to hand the baby back, but Mrs. Lee blocked my way like a brick wall, escorting Sarah out. Her eyebrows were raised high, her expression as fierce as a cornered animal. “You leech, what do you think you’re doing? Back in my day, a man with designs on the young miss would have been crippled and thrown to the pigs! Know your place!” “Pah!” She spat on my face, and the door slammed shut. The only sound was the baby’s piercing cries, which felt like they were about to shatter my heart. I stared blankly at the child in my arms, wondering how my life had come to this. My wandering gaze fell on the photo wall in the living room. I realized that, at some point, the photos of Sarah and me hiking in the mountains had been slowly replaced by family portraits of her, Liam, and their son. There was no trace of me left. Only a single, small photo of a snow-capped mountain remained. It was Mount Rainier, the place where Sarah and I had fallen in love, the place where we were supposed to get married. Just before we were set to leave, her grandparents, disgusted by my humble origins, had insisted she marry Liam Lawson, the heir to the Lawson fortune. Sarah had run away from home. We were already in Seattle, about to head into the mountains. But a call from the ICU pulled her back. When she reappeared before me, she was rail-thin, her eyes swollen from crying. She fell to her knees. “Matt, I’m sorry. My grandparents raised me. I can’t let them die. But I can’t lose you either!” “I made a deal. If I have a son with Liam, they’ll let me go.” “Matt, please, don’t be angry, don’t leave me. Liam is just a means to an end. You’re the one I truly love! Just bear with me for ten months, okay?” The first time, Sarah cried in my arms, clinging to me desperately. At the last moment, she pushed me away and stumbled into Liam’s room. She was back in my room in less than a minute. 4 The second time, she was gone for half an hour. The third time, she stayed the night. The fourth, the fifth… Slowly, she went from insisting I wear a condom to forbidding me from touching her at all, saying she was afraid of “contaminating” the Spencer and Lawson bloodlines. She told me to be patient, that it would all be over after she gave birth. I sat in my room, waiting in bitter silence until dawn, but she never came back. I waited through the first child, the second. I watched 1,460 sunrises and sunsets over Mount Rainier. Sarah and Liam grew closer, more and more like a real married couple. And I, a man who had traveled the world, had become their nanny and childminder. I had fought, I had argued, I had even cried in frustration. Sarah would always soothe me, then go right back to Liam’s side. Now, a third child was on the way. I should have seen it long ago. I should have left. I sat in a daze until late at night. Sarah’s family finally returned, laughing and talking. The moment they opened the door, they froze. Her daughter was on the sofa, having cried herself into a state of exhaustion. The photos on the wall were all torn down, shredded to pieces. “Matt! I told you to take care of our daughter! Why isn’t she making a sound? Are you trying to kill her?” Sarah lunged at me and slapped me across the face, her expression contorted with rage. Liam rushed to pick up the baby and shoved her into my arms. “Matt! Just because you’re sad about losing your chance to have children, it doesn’t give you the right to take it out on my daughter!” “Get back in there and feed her, change her diaper!” But I was unmoved. I even smiled. “I told you, I’m not your nanny anymore. Don’t you understand?” Liam was stunned, then he laughed coldly, his finger practically poking me in the eye. “Sarah, you see? I told you he was holding a grudge! Has it been easy for me these past few years? I’ve put up with the gossip, raised three children with you without any official status, all to make your love story happen!” “And in the end, I’m the bad guy!” Sarah gritted her teeth and slapped me again, her eyes blazing. “Matt, do you have any idea how busy Liam is? Do you know how proud he is? He’s not even my boyfriend, but he’s had three children with me, all for you!” But if she would just open her eyes, she would see that the “busy” man she was talking about was practically glued to her 24/7, and still looked as vibrant as ever. And I was like a candle about to burn out, the dark circles under my eyes reaching down to my mouth, all because I had spent the last three months pulling all-nighters, cleaning up after her daughter. And now, I couldn’t even have children of my own. And what’s more, I was never the one who asked him to have children in the first place. Why was I the one paying the price? My expression was as dead as my heart. Sarah took it as a provocation and grew even angrier. “Can’t you be more understanding? My grandparents were starting to like you because you took such good care of the kids. Our plan was so close to succeeding. What is your problem now?” “Don’t you want to go to Mount Rainier with me anymore?” That threat again. The last flicker of love in my heart finally extinguished. I fought back the tears from the slap and said, my voice filled with a strange sense of release, “No, Sarah. I don’t want to go with you anymore.”

1 After my family went bankrupt, I was forced into a cruel game. If Liam Burwell, the scholarship kid, spent ten thousand dollars on me within a set time, a group of rich kids would pay off my family’s debts. I used every trick in the book to make him fall in love with me. But just as we were two hundred dollars away from the goal, he vanished, leaving behind a single, devastating note. “I’m done with this charade.” The next day, intimate photos of us—photoshopped, but damning—were all over the internet. My reputation was destroyed. Soon after, crushed by debt and shame, my parents took their own lives. Five years later, I was assigned to be his fiancée’s private ski instructor. … My heart hammered against my ribs the moment my eyes met Liam’s. I quickly looked away, grateful for the ski goggles and mask that hid my face. But Liam’s gaze was fixed on me, intense, as if trying to see through the tinted lenses. The beautiful young woman beside him, Kathy, playfully flicked the ID badge hanging around my neck. “Kate Miller.” I had changed my name after my parents died. It was a name Liam wouldn’t know. “Liam, honey,” she cooed, “I remember your ex-girlfriend’s last name was Miller, too.” At the mention of my old self, Liam’s gaze fell, his expression unreadable. Then he reached out and affectionately ruffled Kathy’s hair, not denying it. Kathy, seizing the opportunity, recounted the story of how I, the manipulative gold-digger, had tricked the poor, earnest Liam. “That’s just horrible!” someone in their group exclaimed. “People who play with others’ feelings are the worst.” I glanced at Liam. He must have truly hated me, not even offering a single word to defend my past self. If I could, I would have wished none of it had ever happened. Kathy nudged my arm, her eyes glinting with scorn. “What do you think, Kate?” I just nodded quietly. “Yes. You’re right.” Sensing the tension, another friend tried to lighten the mood. “Well, thanks to her, Liam learned how to handle his rivals so ruthlessly.” A cold, humorless smile touched Liam’s lips. “Don’t even mention her. It’s disgusting.” My feet faltered. A sharp, secret pain lanced through my chest. “Exactly,” Kathy chirped. “She’d better not show her face again. If she does, I’ll definitely teach her a lesson.” The group started to move on. Liam noticed I had fallen behind and walked back to my side. “Miss Miller,” he said, his voice now formal and detached. “Kathy is new to skiing. Please make sure she’s safe. Don’t let her get hurt.” He was looking at Kathy’s retreating back as he spoke, his eyes filled with a profound tenderness. But once we were on the slopes, Kathy ignored my advice. She insisted on going to the advanced trail, and I had no choice but to follow. I saw her lose control, careening toward the edge of the run. I lunged forward, tackling her, using my own body to shield her as we tumbled off the trail and into the deep snow. I landed hard, a blinding pain exploding through me. It felt like every bone in my body had been shattered. I begged her to call for help, but she just brushed the snow off her designer ski suit and stood up. “Miss Miller, as an instructor, crashing off the trail… that doesn’t look very good for your reputation, does it?” I looked up, confused by her words. “Oh, stop pretending,” she sneered, her face twisting with malice. “You’re his ex-girlfriend, aren’t you? Iris Miller.” “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. You only appeared here to try and seduce Liam again, didn’t you?” I tried to push myself up but collapsed back into the snow, the pain making my lips go white. “You’re mistaken,” I stammered, my voice trembling. “This is just my job.” 2 In the distance, Liam’s voice called out. Kathy flashed her phone at me. The screen showed her chat history with him. [Liam, honey, this instructor is insisting on taking me to the advanced trail. I’m so scared.] She used my shoulder to climb back onto the trail, then ran, sobbing, into the arms of the approaching figure. Liam’s voice was tight with suppressed fury. “Where is she?” Kathy sniffled. “She got scared of taking responsibility… and just abandoned me. She ran away.” Liam’s voice softened with concern. “Don’t worry, Kathy. I’ll make her pay for this.” Their voices faded as they walked away. With the last of my strength, I dialed for the ski patrol. I woke up in the clinic to the resort manager screaming at me over the phone. “They demand a face-to-face apology and compensation for damages, or they’re suing you!” Years of suppressed emotions erupted. “It wasn’t my fault!” I shouted, my voice raw. “Kathy was the one who insisted on going to the advanced trail!” There was a long silence on the other end. He was probably shocked. I had always been submissive, a pushover. But I had my pride. I would not admit to something I didn’t do. “Let them sue,” I said, and hung up. A nurse, seeing I was awake, told me I needed to go settle my bill. Leaning on crutches, I made my way downstairs, only to run into Liam, who was picking up medicine for Kathy. I gave him a cool glance and tried to walk past, but he blocked my path. “Iris, you…” Hearing my real name, the name he used to whisper with such affection, almost brought tears to my eyes. I cut him off. “I’m not giving back the ten thousand dollars.” The subject was a raw nerve. His hand shot out, clamping around my wrist like a vise. “Iris, do you even have a heart?” Five years ago, my family went bankrupt. To pay off the debts, I agreed to a cruel game. A group of rich kids despised Liam for his quiet pride and wanted to see him brought low. Ten thousand dollars was nothing to them, but to Liam, it was his family’s income for an entire year. He worked every spare hour at part-time jobs, just to buy me a bracelet I’d pointed at. I told him a family member was sick, and without a second thought, he transferred his entire tuition for the next semester to me. But the day before the bet was over, he found out. He discovered that my affection was all part of a wager. He confronted me, broken, and I didn’t know how to answer. I just told him I would explain everything the next day. But the next day, he never came. All I received was the jar of paper stars he’d made for me. And I had been planning to tell him that day that my feelings had become real. That I had truly fallen in love with him. “Don’t touch me!” I yanked my arm away. I wanted nothing to do with him now. At the payment window, the cashier informed me I had insufficient funds. My humiliation was on full display. I clutched my phone, numbly scrolling through my contacts, realizing there was no one I could call. Liam watched me, a cruel, mocking smile playing on his lips. “Beg me, Iris. Just say you were wrong, and I’ll give you the money.” 3 My nails dug into my palms. Just as I was about to speak, his phone rang. Kathy’s voice, saccharine and sharp, came through the speaker. “That Kate Miller woman won’t admit to anything. She says she’s not afraid of us suing her.” She paused, then her voice took on a tearful quaver. “She… she even sent me threatening messages. She called me a bitch.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. When would I have possibly had time to threaten her? But Liam didn’t even bother to verify her claims. He just sentenced me on the spot. I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. I pulled out the bank card—the one with the ten thousand dollars—and paid the bill. I had kept it all these years, intending to give it back to him one day. It seemed I had been sentimental for nothing. My leg was injured, and I walked slowly. Liam caught up to me easily. I forced a smile, speaking before he could. “Liam, you’re so pathetic, aren’t you? One little wave from me and you’d come crawling back. Did you really think a girl like me would ever be short on cash?” His expression faltered, a flash of anger in his eyes. He thrust a folder at me, scattering papers across the floor. “Don’t flatter yourself, Miss Miller. You forgot your medical report.” The papers lay scattered around my feet. I silently knelt, picking them up one by one. After leaving the hospital, I went back to my small rented apartment. I’d been fired from the resort and was now facing a lawsuit. My budget was so tight I couldn’t even afford a lawyer. To make money, I found a job as a bartender at a high-end cocktail lounge. And in a private room, I saw him again. Liam. He was sitting with the same group of rich kids from all those years ago, laughing and talking as if they were old friends. I kept my head down, trying to blend into the shadows. But then they started reminiscing about our university days. I lost focus for a second, and a drink sloshed onto one of them—Zack. “Watch what you’re doing! Didn’t you see you spilled that on me?” I didn’t speak, just grabbed a napkin and tried to wipe the stain. “Do you know how much this suit costs? Can you even afford to replace it if you ruin it?” He knocked my hand away and tilted my chin up, his eyes widening in recognition. “Iris?” At the sound of my name, every head in the room turned to me. “Well, well, the great Iris Miller. How did you end up working at my family’s bar?” “What, wasn’t the ten grand you scammed off Liam enough?” With a few words, they absolved themselves of any part in the original cruelty. Liam glanced at me, his expression unreadable, then coolly looked away. His silence was permission. It was an endorsement of their mockery. “You didn’t track us down on purpose, did you? Hoping for a handout?” “Hey, we’re old classmates. Here’s ten bucks for your trouble.” “I was always closer to Iris. I’ll give her fifty.” Laughter filled the room as bills were tossed haphazardly onto the table. I finished mixing the last drink and slowly stood up. “Your drinks are ready. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving.” 4 “Who said you could leave?” Liam’s voice cut through the air. He swirled the drink in his hand. “Bring me one of every cocktail on your menu.” I stopped. The eighteen-year-old Iris would have walked out. But I needed the money. I forced a standard, professional smile. “Of course. I hope you’ll be paying your tab, Mr. Burwell.” I mixed and served drink after drink, until my arms ached with exhaustion. At his signal, the others silently drank them down. My phone, sitting on the bar, lit up. I reached for it, but I was too slow. A drunk Zack snatched it, reading the message aloud. “Miss Miller, I’m sorry, but we don’t have any lawyers who can take your case with this budget.” “Iris, darling, can’t even afford a lawyer?” My hand tightened around a glass. I looked up and met Liam’s surprised gaze. Suddenly, I felt a wave of profound, suffocating shame. “Give it back!” “Don’t you guys know? The Millers went bankrupt because her father was having an affair…” They piled on, their vicious, baseless speculation directed at my parents. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed a bottle and smashed it over the speaker’s head. “Shut your mouth!” Liquid dripped from my fingers. My right hand was shaking uncontrollably with fear. The man, his reason gone, lunged at me, his hands closing around my throat. The taste of blood filled my mouth. Suddenly, he was gone. Liam had kicked him square in the chest. He glared down at the man, his voice lethally calm. “What do you think you’re doing?” Sensing his rage, the others scrambled out of the room like rats fleeing a ship. I gasped for air, steadying myself on the table as I stood up amidst the wreckage. “Mr. Burwell, your friend started it. I won’t be paying for a single thing.” Liam let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Is that all you have to say to me? Iris, are you really that desperate for money?” I turned my back to him, wiping away a tear before it could fall. I cleared my throat. “It has nothing to do with you.” It wasn’t until I left the room that I realized my hand was covered in cuts from the shattered glass. I remembered a time when the smallest scratch would have sent Liam into a panic, rushing me to the clinic. I would laugh at him for overreacting, but he would just look down, his expression serious. “Iris,” he had said once, “you’re all I have.” His quietness wasn’t aloofness; it was a deep-seated insecurity. He had spent the first twenty years of his life being abandoned. I was the first person to choose him, to stay. He had wanted to lay the entire world at my feet. So when he found out it was all a lie, his hatred was as fierce as his love had been. Now he was surrounded by love and adoration. I should be happy for him, shouldn’t I? So why couldn’t I smile? I didn’t go to the hospital. I just wrapped the cuts myself. The next day, there was a knock on my door. A man in a sharp suit handed me a business card. He was a lawyer. “I don’t need one, thank you.” 5 I tried to close the door, but he blocked it with his foot. After some pressing, he admitted that Liam had sent him. I pushed him out and said calmly, “Tell him I don’t need his help.” But he refused to leave. Just then, I got a call. The retainer I had paid to another lawyer was being refunded. They didn’t dare offend Mr. Burwell. No lawyer in the city would take Kate Miller’s case. The man outside my door spoke again, his timing perfect. “Miss Miller, rest assured, I will not report any details of our conversations to Mr. Burwell.” With nothing left to lose, I agreed.

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It was my birthday, and my wife, Margaret, was out celebrating. Not with me, of course. She’d taken our son to a party for Leo Vance, a promising protégé from her research lab. I was at home, packing a suitcase and signing the divorce papers that would finally end our charade of a marriage. That’s when I found it, tucked away in a dusty corner of the closet: her old phone. The screen flickered to life, showing a single, unsent draft. A love confession, written to me, from a seventeen-year-old Margaret. I went to delete it without a second thought. Suddenly, new text blinked into existence right below her message. “Who are you?” 1 My eyes widened, and I dropped the phone as if it had burned me. Scrambling for my own phone, I pulled up my message history, scrolling back thirteen years. And there it was, sitting in my inbox just as I remembered it: Margaret’s confession text. Forcing down the wave of panic, I picked the old phone back up. My fingers trembled as I typed. “Who are you trying to confess to?” “Noah Beck.” Seeing my own name sent a jolt through my heart. Was the person on the other end… a seventeen-year-old Margaret? More words appeared, rapid-fire. “Are you a ghost or something? Why are you trying to stop me from sending this?” I took a breath, my mind racing. I typed back. “You don’t need to send it. Because in the future, you’re going to break his heart.” There was a long pause, then a sharp, definitive reply. “Impossible.” Even through the screen, I could picture her perfectly: young, fiery, and full of scorn. The seventeen-year-old Margaret, whose love was a blazing, all-consuming fire, could never imagine the cold, distant woman she would become at thirty. My finger hovered over the keyboard, ready to explain everything, but the front door was thrown open. I shoved the old phone into my pocket and went back to folding my clothes. Margaret stormed in, her eyes scanning the living room frantically. “Noah, have you seen my little box? The small one?” “Noah?” She called my name several times, but I ignored her, focusing on the contents of my suitcase. Finally, she pulled open my bedroom door, just as I was about to walk out. She froze for a second, then her brow furrowed. “You’re packing. Where are you going?” I looked down, avoiding her gaze, and held out the divorce papers. “Margaret,” I said, my voice flat. “Let’s get a divorce.” Her frown deepened. “Is this because of Leo? I told you, if there was anything really going on between us, I would have divorced you myself long ago.” I’d heard the same line at least twenty times. If I hadn’t accidentally seen her phone, I never would have known. The woman I’d shared a bed with for years had been texting her “protégé” Leo every single day for the last five years. They were the “dream team” in the lab, the ones who always ate lunch together in the cafeteria. Everyone knew how close they were. People in their group chat even joked about Leo being her “work husband,” and Margaret would just laugh along. When I confronted her, her eyebrows had shot up in annoyance. “It’s a few jokes, Noah. Do you have to be so dramatic?” I was so tired of hearing it. “You like Leo, don’t you?” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “Sign the papers, and you can be with him openly.” “Noah Beck! When have I ever said I liked him?” she exploded, snatching the papers from my hand. “And where would you even go after divorcing me? You’re thirty years old! You don’t have a graduate degree. Who’s going to hire you in this market? How the hell are you going to support yourself?” Her words struck me like a sledgehammer. Eight years ago, Margaret and I had both applied for grad school. But that was the year she got pregnant. Her mood swings were intense, and she had cravings at all hours. One night, she wanted strawberries. I went out to find some and got into a car accident, landing me in the hospital for three months. So, that year, only Margaret took the entrance exams. The day she got her acceptance letter, she held me and kissed me for what felt like an eternity. “Noah,” she’d whispered, “you had that accident for me. You gave up your future… I know that. My career is taking off now. Just stay home with the baby, okay? I’ll earn the money. I’ll provide for us.” A lump formed in my throat then, just as it did now. I wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. She ripped the divorce papers to shreds, her furious expression slowly softening. “Noah, I’m going to pretend you were just talking nonsense today. Don’t ever bring this up again.” She turned, then paused. “By the way, where is that box?” I dropped my gaze. “On the cabinet next to the TV.” “Okay.” She found the elegant little box and was about to leave when she stopped at the door. “Wait for me at home. I’ll be back as early as I can to celebrate your birthday.” A bitter, mocking laugh almost escaped my lips. So, she did remember. I’d already found that box yesterday while cleaning. It was a designer watch, the one I’d wanted for ages but never bought because it was far too expensive. My heart had leaped when I opened it, thinking it was a surprise for me. Thinking she was finally trying to make things right. But the card inside read, in her familiar script, “To Leo.” It was all just my own wishful thinking. Her betrayal was the final push I needed. Bzzzt. The old phone in my pocket vibrated. It was a new message, sent from the original number to itself, a trick to create a separate chat log. “Forget it, it’s too late now. I’ll just confess to him next year instead.” I froze, my mind clicking into place. I quickly opened my own phone and found the original confession text from Margaret. The date at the bottom had changed. It no longer said thirteen years ago. It said twelve. A wave of disbelief washed over me. Could the seventeen-year-old Margaret… actually change the present? 2 Another message from her came through. “This way we don’t have to fight over the same text box. So, please, answer me. Who are you?” My eyes darkened. “I am a god,” I typed. “I can see the future.” “I’m a materialist. I don’t believe in gods or ghosts.” Her bluntness made me choke back a laugh. Another message followed immediately. “But I’m willing to listen to your prophecy. What do you know?” If I told her… could it change that day? I raised a hand, my fingers tracing the faint, jagged line on my cheek. It was worth a try. “The day after Noah’s birthday,” I wrote, “a group of bullies will corner him. They’re going to burn his face.” The reply was swift. “Okay. I’ll be watching.” And that was it. Silence. I put the phone away. It was already past midnight. Margaret and our son still weren’t home. Normally, I’d be frantic, calling nonstop, unable to sleep until they walked through the door. Tonight, I just quietly washed up and went to bed. The next morning, the house was still empty. They hadn’t come home at all. I felt nothing. But as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I froze. My reflection stared back, and the skin on my cheek—the side that had been marred by a puckered burn scar for thirteen years—was smooth. Perfect. A whole new set of memories flooded my mind, overwhelming and vivid. The day after my seventeenth birthday, the bullies caught me, just like before. But as one of them lunged forward with a lit cigarette, Margaret had appeared out of nowhere, throwing herself in front of me, shielding my face. The past had actually changed. An incredulous laugh escaped me, followed by tears streaming down my face. I fumbled for the old phone. A new message was waiting. “Thank you. I saved him.” Without hesitation, I typed back to the girl who had once been my everything. “Are you willing to save Noah again?” Her reply was instant. “Is he in trouble again? What do I need to do?” “Don’t confess to him. Stay away from him. The farther, the better.” I could almost see her confused, indignant expression. “Why?” “Because if you get together, you will destroy the man he becomes.” She immediately shot back. “Impossible! I love Noah more than anything!” “Today, he scraped his knee, and I ran to the store after class and bought him five different kinds of bandaids.” “That fatso in his class, Duncan, tried to bully him into doing his homework, so I ripped the homework to shreds right in front of him!” “When he has a fever, or a cold, or even a stomachache, my heart feels like it’s going to break!” “There were so many of those thugs today. I’m a girl, and I was terrified, but I still ran in to protect him. I know he’s my entire world. I could never, ever hurt him!” I read her passionate, desperate messages, and the beautiful memories of our youth resurfaced, sharp and painful. The seventeen-year-old Margaret had treated me like a precious treasure. The thirty-year-old Margaret treated me like dirt. The woman who once promised to provide for me now threw it in my face that she was the one supporting me. My gaze fell. “People change.” “Then tell me. Tell me how I hurt him in the future.” My fingers froze over the screen. A thousand moments of cruelty and neglect flashed through my mind, but I didn’t know where to begin. Just then, my phone rang. I answered. “Noah? It’s Amy, from the lab. Margaret’s had a bit too much to drink. She’s at the restaurant where Leo works part-time. Can you come and get her? Your son… he’s here too.” The background was a cacophony of noise, and I could faintly hear the sound of something smashing. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. “I’m on my way.” As I rushed out the door, Margaret’s question echoed in my head. “Tell me how I hurt him.” I pulled out the old phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. Then I pressed the record button. Alright, Margaret. Get ready to hear what a monster you’ve become. 3 I burst into the restaurant to find Margaret pinning some large man against a table, a furious whirlwind of motion. The scene was chaotic. Chairs were overturned, tables askew, and broken plates littered the floor. As I moved to intervene, her student, Amy, grabbed my arm. “Noah, don’t! You might get hurt.” I frowned. “She never gets violent when she drinks. What happened?” Amy sighed. “A couple of jerks were harassing Leo, trying to force him to drink with them. Margaret just lost it…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked at me guiltily. “Noah, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… Please don’t be mad.” The seventeen-year-old Margaret would only fight for me. The thirty-year-old Margaret was fighting for another man. I brushed it off. But as my eyes found Margaret again, they widened in horror. Our five-year-old son, Alex, was right beside her, his tiny fists pounding uselessly against the man’s leg. “I’ll get you!” he yelled. “Stop bullying Uncle Leo!” Enraged, the man grabbed a beer bottle from a nearby table and raised it high, ready to bring it down on my son’s head. “NO!” Pure paternal instinct took over. I lunged forward, covering the last few feet in two desperate strides.

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The moment he saw me, the word escaped his lips: “Mom!” But he was still just as eager to learn. My husband, Jason, is one of the nation’s leading pharmaceutical magnates. The day he perfected his new drug, “Lethe Water,” my son, Damian, smiled for the first time in years. “If we give this to Mom, will she finally stop loving us?” My husband nodded, his decision absolute. And so, my son brought the potion to me, tricking me into drinking it. I laughed at the bitter irony and drained the glass. Father and son breathed a sigh of relief. At last, they could be with their idealized first love, Layla, without guilt or consequence. But later, why did they come to me, crying, over and over again? “Do you really not love us at all anymore?” 1 When my son, Damian, held the cup of dark green liquid out to me, I knew. It was time. He and his father were making their move. I didn’t take it. I just watched him, my gaze silent and heavy. For fifteen years, I had never looked at him with such dead stillness. I knew what was in that cup. It was the latest creation from the labs of Vance Pharmaceuticals, my husband Jason’s company. Its name: “Lethe.” A simple, eloquent name for a potion that would sever the drinker’s emotional ties to their most beloved. And I, without a doubt, loved Jason. I loved my son. A fortune teller once told me my heart was a finely-tuned instrument, so sensitive and full of feeling that it would eventually shatter from the vibrations of love and loss. She was right. I walked with Jason for eighteen years, from a cramped basement lab to the gleaming corporate office. Along the way, we had our son, Damian. I walked with him for fifteen years, from a helpless, wailing infant to the sharp, brilliant young man he was today. They were my entire world. My love for them was instinctual, a force that flowed from the very core of my being. But then, when Damian was eight, Jason’s unforgettable first love returned. Layla. She stood there, her dark hair coiled in an elegant bun, a pure white dress draping her slender frame. Her eyes smiled, her lips curved, and she gave a small, gentle wave. “Jules, you silly goose,” she’d said. “You’re not as handsome as you used to be.” And just like that, Jason, a man who had already conquered his world, was conquered himself, undone by a sliver of moonlight from his past. He had once told me he hated her, that she had chosen a future abroad over a future with him. It was I who had pulled him back from the edge of a bridge, I who had stood by him as he clawed his way out of that basement and took his seat at the head of his empire. My son, Damian, fell for her too. He had always been a cold child—brilliant, calm, a perfect reflection of his father. But when Layla ruffled his hair, a blush crept up his cheeks, and he shyly called her “Aunt Layla.” His “Aunt Layla” had stolen both their hearts with effortless grace. They became an inseparable family of three, and I became the outsider, a ghost in my own home. I fought. I screamed. I cried through entire nights, my sanity fraying at the edges. But all they said was, “Stop acting like a madwoman. It’s embarrassing.” Layla never called me a madwoman. Instead, she left a letter, saying she was returning my family to me. A letter she made sure to give directly to Jason. Then, she vanished without a trace. Her departure didn’t save my family. It shattered it completely. Jason clutched that letter, his eyes bloodshot with rage, and called me an unreasonable harpy who had driven Layla away. Damian, his teeth clenched, threw his school backpack at my head and swore he would never call me “Mom” again. From that day on, the life bled out of our home. Jason moved into an apartment at his company headquarters. For seven years, we did not share a bed. For seven years, Damian never spoke a word to me willingly. The word “Mom” never again passed his lips. Until now. Now, he was serving me tea. His face was a mask of eager anticipation, waiting for me to drink the Lethe. 2 The dark green liquid swirled like a miniature vortex in the cup. Damian’s hands weren’t steady. At fifteen, he was still just a boy. A self-mocking smile touched my lips. “What kind of tea is this?” I knew it wasn’t tea. But a part of me, the part with that damned, finely-tuned heart, still clung to a sliver of hope. I was born to torture myself. “It’s just normal tea. Drink it,” Damian mumbled, his eyes darting away, lashes hiding his gaze. He had learned to lie. I looked away, struggling to keep my voice even. “Where’s your father? It’s my birthday. If you’re serving me tea, the least he could do is bring me a cake.” My tone was thick with a sarcasm born from seven birthdays spent in silence. “It’s your birthday today? Oh, right. It is. That’s why I came home early.” Damian glanced up. “Dad will be back soon. He had to take care of something first.” As if on cue, the front door opened. Jason strode in, immaculate in his suit. His usually stern, cold face held a flicker of the same barely concealed anticipation as his son’s. They were both waiting. Waiting for me to drink. Once I did, my so-called “finely-tuned heart” would no longer feel a thing. I wouldn’t be a hysterical harpy anymore. I wouldn’t embarrass them. Jason and Damian could finally stand by Layla’s side, openly, and welcome her as the true matriarch of the family. As for me? I wouldn’t love them anymore, so why would I ever cause a scene again? That was their logic. Their perfect, cold solution. I let out a short, bitter laugh and took the cup. Jason, still by the door, pressed his lips together. He took two steps forward and then stopped. Seeing his empty hands, I asked pointedly, “Did you forget to bring my present?” “What?” His brow furrowed into a familiar frown. It had become his habit when speaking to me, a clear signal of his impatience. “Dad, it’s her birthday,” Damian chimed in, covering for him. “You said you bought a gift, remember?” Jason feigned a moment of realization. “Right, of course. I know it’s your birthday. I bought you that grand piano you always wanted. It’s at the office. I forgot to have it delivered. I’ll bring it tomorrow.” He was a much better liar than his son, his expression a perfect mask of sincerity. I nodded slowly, my gaze dropping to the liquid in the cup. Father and son fell silent. A strange, heavy quiet descended upon the house. They were waiting. 3 But I wouldn’t drink. Not yet. Eighteen years of devotion had finally curdled into a bitter, stubborn resentment. How could I just let it all go? They were still lying to me, right to my face, pretending they remembered my birthday. I would tear down their facade. Glancing from one to the other, I slammed the cup down on the table. “Thanks, but I’m not thirsty.” “You have to drink it, even if you’re not thirsty! It’s from your son!” Jason’s composure finally cracked. He strode over, picked up the cup, and thrust it at me. “Drink it. You’ll break his heart.” Damian nodded eagerly beside him. I wanted to laugh. To throw my head back and howl with derisive laughter. My voice dripped with scorn. “Don’t be in such a rush. I won’t keep you from your precious Layla. She’s waiting for you, isn’t she?” I had known for a while that Layla was back. Why else would Jason have been living at the lab, working day and night to perfect his little potion? The color drained from Jason’s face. His fingers tightened around the cup. He finally understood. I was toying with them. I knew exactly what this was. Damian’s young face went pale, his eyes filled with guilt. I sneered. “Don’t panic. I just want to know one thing. Was this your plan with Layla all along?” This potion had been in development for years. I had been a part of their calculations for a long, long time. They had certainly worked hard to get rid of me. “You… Fine. Since you already know, there’s no point in hiding it.” Jason’s expression shifted in an instant, his emotions locked back down. He was always a man of cold control. Now, it was time to lay the cards on the table. “We started thinking about this seven years ago,” he said, his voice laced with resentment. “You have only yourself to blame. You were unreasonable, a complete harpy!” “And I,” he continued, a martyr, “refuse to abandon the wife of my youth. Our son cannot sever the blood that ties him to you. So, using Lethe to make you… normal… is the best solution for everyone.” Normal? So, loving you was abnormal. “Hahaha! Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant!” I gave him a thumbs-up. Jason had never seen me like this, so brazenly defiant. His composure shattered into rage. “What’s with the sarcasm? It’s come to this. I have nothing more to say. Drink it!” He pointed at the cup, delivering his final ultimatum. Damian, emboldened, echoed him. “Just drink it! Drink it, and I’ll still acknowledge you as my mother. If you don’t, we’re done!” Well, that sounded fantastic. And you know what? I was suddenly a little thirsty. “Down the hatch, then.” I let out one last, derisive chuckle and raised the cup. I had no more questions. I had no more love. It was time. Father and son tensed, their eyes wide, fixed on me, burning with a desperate, hopeful light. I would not disappoint them. I drank it all in one go. Let this water tear my heart to shreds. I… am finally letting you go.

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My parents’ legacy—a pair of heirloom lockets they’d sworn never to part with—suddenly appeared on the auction block at the May Day charity gala. But no matter how high I bid, Adrian Rhames’s childhood sweetheart, Chloe, always went a hundred dollars higher. It was the hundredth time she had so blatantly tried to snatch something of mine away. Adrian, however, was unfazed. “They’re just trinkets, Max. It’s Chloe’s birthday. She likes them, so just let her have them.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. With newfound resolve, I called the final price, an exorbitant bid that silenced the room. When the auction ended, my parents’ lockets were safely back in my possession. Adrian wasn’t angry; in fact, our marriage, against all odds, seemed to find a new, searing passion. I indulged his every desire, fulfilling the role of a devoted wife. A year later, I was pregnant. And I received an invitation to a private auction. There was only one item for sale: “The Max Geller Collection: 999 Private Moments.” Adrian appeared with Chloe wrapped around his arm, a cruel glint in his eyes. “Chloe wanted something thrilling for her birthday,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “And since you love outbidding her so much, I figured I’d give you the chance to bid to your heart’s content.” A desolate smile touched my lips. If this was what they wanted, then I would play their game. A pixelated video flickered to life on the massive screen. The setting was all too familiar—it was the master bedroom of my home with Adrian, the sanctuary I had so lovingly built. “Well, well. Mrs. Rhames always looks so prim and proper. Who knew she was such a firecracker in private?” “Now that’s what I call a masterpiece. I hear she’s three months pregnant, too. Adrian Rhames is a lucky man.” The men in the room exchanged lewd smirks and crude remarks. My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. I stared at Adrian, my body trembling. “Why?” Ours may have been an arranged marriage, a merger of two powerful families, but we’d built a life on three years of shared history. Despite Chloe’s constant interference, the past year had been filled with genuine affection. I was carrying his child. Adrian pulled Chloe closer, his gaze softening with adoration for her. “Because you always have to compete with Chloe. You make her unhappy.” He gestured to the screen. “You love calling the final price, don’t you? Here are 999 lots. Take your time.” Chloe giggled, a mask of innocence on her face. “Adrian, darling, don’t you think this is a bit much? The Geller family is practically gone. I doubt a pregnant woman like her has the kind of money for this, even if she sold herself.” Laughter erupted around me, and predatory eyes fixed on my body. “Her parents are dead, and Rhames Enterprises absorbed her family’s company. The only ones here who could afford the whole collection are Mr. Rhames and Miss Sterling themselves.” Adrian shot me a look, his eyes stripped of any warmth. “I won’t have Chloe’s eyes sullied by such filth. I won’t be bidding. The rest of you, feel free.” “A generous man, Mr. Rhames!” the crowd cheered. Chloe snuggled into his chest. “Darling, you crushed the Geller family and took over their company for me. Max must be broke now. Should we… help her out?” He kissed her forehead, his voice dripping with love. “Don’t you worry about her, sweetheart. She owes you this.” I stared at the man who had become a stranger. “The downfall of my family’s company… that was your doing?” I whispered, my voice shaking. He sneered, as if the answer was obvious. “The Gellers were an eyesore to Chloe. I was just helping her clear the view.” My breath caught in my throat. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. It was all a long, calculated revenge, all because I had dared to reclaim my parents’ lockets from his precious Chloe a year ago. Adrian looked down on me, his voice a cold command. “Max, I’ll give you a choice. Call the final price, or… get on your knees and apologize to Chloe. A thousand times.” I took a deep, shuddering breath. “I will not kneel to her.” A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a scornful laugh. “Max, do you really think you’re in a position to choose?” I turned to the auctioneer, my eyes hard as stone. “Begin.” My humiliation was now on full display. The auctioneer, a smirk playing on his lips, raised his gavel. “Lot number one: The Kitchen. Bidding starts at one million dollars!” A collective gasp swept through the room. “The kitchen! Mr. Rhames has exquisite taste in locations.” “I never thought the high and mighty Max Geller could be so… accommodating. I bid two million!” A wave of nausea washed over me as I watched the screen. It was my birthday. Adrian had baked me a cake, and I, moved to tears by the gesture, had let him lead me into a night of passion right there on the kitchen counter. Adrian watched me from his elevated seat, his eyes filled with derision. His gaze was a knife, carving away at my shattered heart. All eyes were on me. The jeers and whispers threatened to drown me. I sank back into my chair, my voice a threadbare whisper. “I call the final price.” But the attendant didn’t light the signal lamp above my seat. Instead, he leaned in, his tone mocking. “Mrs. Rhames, I’m afraid your accounts have just been frozen.” “What?” Disbelief washed over me. After my family’s company was liquidated, I still had a ten-million-dollar trust fund—the last thing my father had left for me. “Accounts frozen? Then what’s she going to bid with?” “I thought she’d at least snag one or two. Turns out she’s got nothing.” I shot up from my seat, my eyes locking on Adrian, who sat enthroned on the second-floor dais. “You did this!” He shrugged. “Rhames Enterprises owns your family’s liquidated assets. Is it really so strange that an outsider’s access has been… restricted?” Chloe let out a delicate laugh. “Oh, Max, if you’re out of cash, why not humble yourself a bit? I’m sure any of these fine gentlemen would be happy to sponsor a beauty like you if you make it worth their while.” The room erupted in raucous laughter. A greasy-looking older man even reached for me, trying to pull me into his lap. The auctioneer pressed on. “Mrs. Rhames, if you cannot call the final price, we will have to resume the bidding for this lot.” I slapped away the groping hands and, with trembling fingers, dialed my emergency lender. “I need a loan. One hundred million.” The men around me smirked, their interest momentarily lost. The auction proceeded. The auctioneer smiled as he brought down the gavel. “Seat 13 calls the final price! Congratulations to Mrs. Rhames on acquiring ‘The Kitchen’.” “What a shame. I was looking forward to seeing the lady of the Geller manor in action.” “Don’t worry. She’s borrowing from the sharks. Payback is brutal. A hundred million won’t last her long.” “Exactly. There are 999 lots. Let’s see how much she can borrow.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. The screen had already switched to the next lot. “Lot number two: The Balcony! Bidding starts at one million!” the auctioneer announced with theatrical flair. The room was buzzing again. “First the kitchen, now the balcony! The man’s an artist!” “I bid three million!” A man beside me leaned in close, his hand brushing my leg. “Mrs. Rhames, why don’t you play with me for a bit?” “Yeah, Adrian Rhames doesn’t want you, but I do. You be a good girl and take care of me, and I’ll buy this next one for you.” “Get away from me,” I hissed, my voice dripping with ice. The man sneered. “After what we’ve seen on screen, you’re still playing the saint?” “Five million!” another shouted. “Ten million! And when I get it, I’ll project it onto the Geller family mausoleum for all to see!” A chill shot through my entire body. Trembling, I raised my paddle. “I… I call the final price.” The gavel fell again, the auctioneer’s smile widening with cruel delight. “Seat 13 calls the final price. Congratulations again, Mrs. Rhames, on your acquisition of ‘The Balcony’!” The gavel fell. Lot three. Lot four. The videos kept coming. And I could only keep raising my paddle, my hand shaking more each time. Calling the final price. Again and again. Until I had acquired 99 lots. “Lot number one hundred: The Rooftop Garden! Bidding starts at one million!” “I call—” “Mrs. Rhames,” the auctioneer interrupted, his smile laced with pity. “Your current balance is no longer sufficient to call the final price.” The men in the audience started whistling and catcalling. “Out of money, are we? Perfect. I’ve always wanted to see how a prestigious family like the Gellers raised a woman who enjoys… alfresco encounters.” “You play with me, and I’ll buy it for you.” I ignored the filth being thrown at me and dialed the lender one last time. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Rhames. You’ve reached your credit limit. We cannot extend you any further loans.” I lowered the phone in despair, my gaze instinctively flying to Adrian on the second-floor dais. He was holding Chloe, but he felt my stare. The last embers of what I once thought was love in his eyes died, replaced by cold contempt. Every eye in the room turned to him. After all, he was the only person left who could afford to buy the remaining 899 lots for me. Adrian simply looked down at me. “Max, my earlier offer still stands.” Kneel and beg? A cold, humorless laugh built in my chest. Chloe stirred in Adrian’s arms, her voice a saccharine whisper, feigning magnanimity. “Darling, Max took care of you for so long. Even if there was no love, there was effort. Why don’t I buy the rest for her?” The crowd murmured in approval. “Miss Sterling is so kind. Even now, she’s willing to help.” “No wonder Mr. Rhames adores her. How could a shameless woman like Max ever compare?” I squeezed my eyes shut, branding the humiliation Adrian was heaping upon me into my soul. I would never forget this. Chloe rose from Adrian’s side and glided towards me. She leaned in, her voice a triumphant hiss. “Listen, you little bitch. Divorce Adrian, get rid of that bastard in your belly, and I’ll give you a billion dollars to buy the rest of these videos. How about it?” “Get lost,” I snarled. Chloe dramatically stumbled backward, as if I had shoved her with all my might. She collapsed to the floor, her body wracked with sobs. “I’m sorry, Max! I… I was only trying to help…” Adrian rushed to her side, scooping her up. Then he turned and slapped me across the face, the sound echoing in the silent room. “Who gave you the right to touch Chloe!” I wiped a trickle of blood from my lip, my gaze locking with his, cold and unyielding. It was the first time I had ever seen him so furious in all the years of our marriage. And it was for another woman. “Continue the auction!” Adrian roared at the auctioneer. “Sell every last one! Let the whole world see the real Max Geller!” But Chloe clung to him, her voice a gentle balm. “Adrian, it’s alright. I’m fine. Max is just having a hard time accepting all this.” She looked at me with pity. “Ultimately, she can’t stand seeing how much you love me. She has every right to hate me.” Adrian cradled her, his gaze on me turning glacial. “Chloe is still defending you, and yet you act with such venom.” It was utterly, laughably absurd. This was the man I had loved for four years. “Adrian Rhames,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “Let’s get a divorce.” “What did you say?” “I said, let’s get a divorce.” I met his gaze, my own unwavering. This marriage was nothing but a tool for his revenge. Now that he had gotten what he wanted, it was time for it to end. He seemed stunned for a moment, then a cold sneer twisted his lips. “What game are you playing now, Max? You think this little act will make me pity you?” “I don’t need your pity. We’re over.” I signed the divorce papers without a moment’s hesitation. As my pen left the paper, Adrian’s expression darkened into a thunderous scowl. Chloe, however, couldn’t hide the triumphant glee in her eyes. She looked down at me as if I were a stray dog kicked to the curb. Minutes later, a notification pinged on my phone. A billion dollars had been deposited into my new account. I looked at the auctioneer. “Continue the auction.” Chloe pressed herself against Adrian’s chest, her expression aggrieved. “Adrian, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault…” “It has nothing to do with you,” he bit out, his usual comforting tone absent. His eyes were fixed on me. “I’d like to see what she has left to bid with now that she’s no longer a Rhames.” Lot #101 appeared on the screen. “Lot one-oh-one, a… multi-person video,” the auctioneer stammered, “starting bid, two million dollars!” The room exploded. The jeers grew louder, more vicious. “The Gellers were such a respected family! I can’t believe their daughter is into this kind of thing! If her father knew, he’d claw his way out of his grave!” “If you have such needs, Mrs. Rhames, you should have called me!” “Five million!” “Ten million!” “I bid twenty million!” The bids escalated, a frenzy of voices clamoring for my deepest shame. The auctioneer looked at me, a sly smile on his face. “Mrs. Rhames? Are you still calling the final price?” Adrian watched from above, a conqueror’s smugness on his face. He was certain I was out of options, that I would have to crawl back and beg him. “Max, my conditions haven’t changed…”

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After the angel-demon war, my sister’s husband returned safely—but mine died in battle. Everyone pitied me. But I knew: The survivor wasn’t my brother-in-law. It was my husband Damon. Identical twins. Equal power. No one suspected. “Celeste,” Damon whispered, “This is for the realm. My brother was the Dragon Prince. His death would start a civil war. And your sister… she’s too fragile. I’m just comforting her—for now.” “When it’s safe,” he vowed, “I’ll return to you.” I believed him—until he sentenced me to death for “conspiring with demons.” As the blades fell, I saw him embrace my sister. Then I woke up. Back to the victory day when Damon first betrayed me. This time, I remarried instantly. He never knew: By abandoning me, he lost his only path to the Dragon Clan. … “Phoebe, Damon… he fell in battle!” The phantom agony of a thousand cuts made my body tremble. When I opened my eyes again, those were the first words I heard. The speaker was the Dragon King. He had only two sons. One was the crown prince, who had married my sister, making her the princess. The other was my husband, Damon. Now, the Dragon King, a man who by all rights should be dead and gone in my memory, sat upon his throne, gazing at the coffin before him, his face a mask of grief. But I couldn’t suppress the wild joy surging through me. I was reborn! Before I could speak, my sister’s voice cut in from beside me. “Little sister, I know you’re heartbroken. If you need to cry, just let it out.” She looked down at me, her expression one of pity, but her perfectly applied makeup was unblemished by tears. I looked up, my gaze passing over her to the man standing at her side. No, that wasn’t my brother-in-law. My brother-in-law was already lying in that coffin. The man before me was my husband, Damon. The man who should have been holding me close was now holding my sister’s hand, their fingers intertwined. He noticed my stare and turned to me, his eyes wide with feigned surprise. I scoffed inwardly. Damon’s acting was as superb as ever. In my past life, though I’d sensed something was wrong, it had taken me a long time to gather the proof I needed to confirm that the man beside my sister was, in fact, Damon. But this time, I saw right through him. A wail of grief tore through the hall. “My son, oh, my son!” The Dragon Queen threw herself onto the coffin, huge tears rolling down her cheeks. She then pointed a trembling finger at me. “It was you! You jinxed him! You, you cursed my son to death!” The Queen and I had never gotten along. She thought I wasn’t demure enough, not graceful enough to be worthy of her son. I had once worried about her disapproval. Damon had sworn to me, “If my mother ever gives you trouble, I will always, always take your side.” Smack! The Queen slapped me hard across the face. Still not satisfied, she raised her hand again. The King, jolted from his grief, quickly ordered the guards to intervene. “That’s enough!” The hall descended into chaos. Through it all, Damon stood silently to one side, holding my sister’s hand. He even seemed worried the commotion might frighten her. He pulled a shimmering aquamarine stone from his pocket and presented it to her like a precious treasure, whispering soothingly, “Serena, my love, I got this just for you.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. The phoenix clan is born of fire, yet I had always yearned for an aquamarine. In my last life, I had begged Damon to bring one back for me. He promised he would, but it never arrived. So, it wasn’t that he hadn’t found one. It was that the gift was never intended for me. Even though my sister had no need for it. Even though he had once promised to always protect me, yet now stood by and did nothing. Sensing my gaze, my sister, Serena, shifted uncomfortably, moving to block my view of Damon. “Little sister,” she chided, “why are you staring at my husband like that? Father is speaking to you.” The Dragon King spoke, his voice weary. “Phoebe, according to our customs, when one spouse dies in battle, the other must remain a widow for a hundred years.” He sighed. “I will not force you. I only wish to know your plans.” I shook my head. “I choose the second path. I will remarry.” A dead silence fell over the hall. Everyone stared at me in disbelief. Damon was the first to speak. “Absurd! Phoebe, how can you marry another?” Now, the King and my sister also sensed something was amiss. The King, though puzzled, spoke tactfully. “Caelus, this is your sister-in-law’s private matter. The decision should be hers alone.” Damon was silenced, able to do nothing but glower at me. My sister was even more agitated than he was. She took a step forward, her eyes filled with condemnation. “Phoebe, your husband has just died! His body isn’t even cold, and you’re not mourning him, you’re demanding to remarry? If word of this gets out, do you want everyone to think the Phoenix Clan is as heartless and disloyal as you?” The Queen’s glare was venomous. “If Damon hadn’t insisted on marrying you, I would never have allowed a venomous creature like you into this family!” I answered calmly, “If Damon loved me as much as you say, he wouldn’t want me to waste my life away as a widow.” “I will remarry!” I declared again. Damon started to speak, “You—” The King cut him off. “Enough. Since Phoebe’s mind is made up, we will respect her wishes. However, the pact between the Dragon and Phoenix clans stands. You may remarry, Phoebe, but you must choose a suitor from the Dragon Clan.” I turned to face the vast crowd of dragons and called out, my voice ringing through the hall, “Is there anyone here who will marry me?” No one stepped forward. Some looked like they wanted to, but were pulled back by their families. Others met my gaze and shied away as if they’d seen a viper. I felt a wave of despair. Heaven had only given me two paths: widowhood or remarriage. Was my fate truly unchangeable? Damon, seeing my predicament, couldn’t resist a sneer. “Phoebe, no one would dare marry a faithless woman like you. You’d better resign yourself to being a widow.” His voice was laced with smug certainty, and it made my stomach turn. Just then, a figure descended from the sky. “I will!” I looked up to see a man I recognized as Xylos, the Dragon Clan’s legendary Warlord. He had a fearsome reputation as a god of slaughter, yet now he was kneeling on one knee before the King. “Your Majesty, I am willing to marry Phoebe.” Damon’s eyes blazed with fury. “Xylos, what business is this of yours? Let me give you a friendly warning. My brother is barely dead, and Phoebe is already desperate to remarry. Are you sure you want to take a woman like that into your home? Aren’t you afraid she’ll curse you to death too?” Xylos stepped in front of me, his brow furrowed. “Your Highness, Phoebe is your sister-by-law. Instead of protecting her, you’re slandering her.” “I’m speaking the truth,” Damon retorted. Xylos ignored him and turned to me. “Phoebe, will you marry me? I will be loyal to you for all eternity. I will stay by your side. Let the heavens be my witness. If I break this vow, may my soul be annihilated!” My heart trembled. I saw nothing but unwavering resolve in his eyes. I couldn’t help but nod. “Yes.” With things settled, Damon had no more reason to object. Xylos and I performed the bonding ritual on the spot. The King, seeing the matter concluded, waved a tired hand at me. “Go.” He then announced to the assembly, “I am old, and I have lost a son. I no longer have the strength to be king. Three days from now, I will pass the throne to Caelus.” Caelus was my brother-in-law’s name, the name Damon had stolen. I pondered this. In my past life, the King never abdicated, not even up to the day I was executed by Damon. Why was it happening so much earlier this time? Before I could think further, Damon passed by me in the departing crowd. I heard him hiss, “You bitch. You’ll regret this.” That night, I moved from Damon’s palace to Xylos’s domain. The servants’ gossip followed me. “The Warlord is perfect in every way, except for his taste in women.” “The second prince’s body is barely cold, and Phoebe is already remarrying. What kind of woman is she?” “Didn’t the Queen say Phoebe was cursed to bring death to her husbands? I’m truly afraid for the Warlord.” … I listened to the whispers from outside my window with a wry smile. I turned to Xylos and nudged him with my foot, saying self-deprecatingly, “The great Warlord’s reputation, ruined by me.” Xylos frowned. “Don’t say that. Phoebe, give me half a day. I will make sure you never hear them speak ill of you again.” I sighed. “Honestly, I don’t care.” Compared to my last life, where I was a widow to a living man, enduring endless torment only to be publicly executed by a thousand cuts, this was paradise. Xylos provided me with the finest food and clothing, rivaling that of the royal family. I was living in comfort. I was already content. Before we blew out the lamps, I heard him mumble, “A little damage to my reputation is nothing. As long as I can have you, I don’t care about anything else.” I lay awake all night. Not long after, my sister sent for me. She was about to become the next Dragon Queen, and her handmaidens were presenting her with a heavy, ornate ceremonial gown. She eagerly held the crown to her head, turning to ask me, “Phoebe, who do you think looks better in this, me or the old Queen?” I remained silent. She continued, as if talking to herself, “Sometimes, you just have to accept your fate. So what if you were more talented than me? In the end, I’m the one who will be Queen.” She had always been like this, always needing to be one step ahead of me. My gaze fell upon the cluttered table, and I found myself staring at the aquamarine Damon had given her. A spark of insight flashed in my mind. When my sister was young, she had been dragged into the sea by a water spirit during a training exercise. She hated aquamarines. My brother-in-law, always so thoughtful, would have remembered that. After a long pause, I asked, my voice strained, “You really haven’t noticed that he’s not Caelus?” My sister’s hand froze. In that instant, I knew the answer. In my past life, I had never once suspected my sister. In my eyes, despite our lifelong rivalry, Damon was the sole perpetrator. But now, her reaction told me everything. She knew. Tears welled in my eyes. “Serena, are you insane?” I demanded. Smack! She slammed a phoenix hairpin onto the table. “So what if I am?” she retorted. I was stunned. My sister sneered. “Let me tell you the truth. As long as he is the Crown Prince, as long as I can be the future Queen, I don’t care who my husband is.” She glared at me suspiciously. “As for you, you’d better play the part of the grieving widow. If you behave, when I become Queen, I won’t treat you poorly. But if you dare to speak a word of this, I will not spare you.” A chill seeped into my bones. Her words were identical to the ones Damon had spoken in my last life. But in the end, neither of them had spared me. Just then, voices sounded from outside. Damon, the King, and the Queen swept into the room. They all froze when they saw me. Damon frowned, his voice laced with guilt. “Phoebe, what are you doing here?” The Queen’s tone was sharp and sarcastic. “Shouldn’t you be with your new husband? What are you doing in the palace?” Serena squeezed out a few tears, leaning against Damon. “Phoebe didn’t mean any harm. She’s just so distraught over losing her husband, that’s why…” Damon wrapped his arm around her, his voice full of resentment. “Phoebe, none of us wanted to see my brother die on the battlefield. Not only did you refuse to mourn him, you insisted on remarrying, and now you’re taking your anger out on your sister.” “Get out!” he roared. I stared at Damon, and then a slow smile spread across my face. “Fine.” Justice may be slow, but it is coming.

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