My father loved my mother desperately. And because of me, she died. Later, my father adopted another daughter. A girl who looked so much like my mother. On our sixteenth birthday— He paraded his adopted daughter around like a princess, while I was mistaken for the housekeeper’s child. Just then, my phone rang. “Happy birthday, my love! “It’s been so long. Mommy misses you so, so much!” My world stopped. My mother was back. 1 I was about to wash the car for Isla’s friend, on her command, when my father, Matthew Backman, came home. His assistant followed behind him, carrying an exquisite crystal castle—a gift for Isla. A chorus of gasps and envious whispers erupted from Isla’s classmates. Then, I heard my father’s voice, thick with a doting affection I hadn’t heard in a decade. “A castle for my princess,” he said. “Happy birthday, my one and only little princess.” His one and only princess. I chewed on those words until they turned sour in my mouth. Today wasn’t just Isla’s birthday. It was mine, too. But just like every year before, I got nothing. Because in my father’s eyes, I was a sinner. I didn’t deserve a birthday. I was the one who killed my mother. 2 Ten years ago today, my mother got into a car accident on her way to buy me the strawberry cake I’d been craving. She left us forever. And from that day on, Matthew hated me. At her funeral, he announced to everyone, “As of today, Lynn is no longer my daughter.” I crouched on the floor, blinking my red-rimmed eyes at him, lost and confused. I was too young then to understand the finality in his voice. Only later, as I grew up, did I realize how absolute his decree had been. His company went public. His net worth skyrocketed. And with his new fortune, he adopted Isla. From then on— His affection was for Isla alone. Isla lived in the master suite of our mansion; I was given the maid’s quarters. A chauffeur drove Isla to and from her elite private school. I took the city bus. Her closet overflowed with new clothes. I wore her cast-offs. Isla was the princess. I was the live-in servant. And he was right. I was a servant with no parents to call my own. 3 But I wanted to be a princess, too. I remember, a lifetime ago, he promised me I would be. Back then, my mother was still alive. His company was just a fledgling startup, and the three of us were crammed into a small two-bedroom apartment. To support him, my mother would secretly transfer the gift money my grandfather gave me into his bank account. “Lynn and I don’t need much,” she would tell him, her voice a soft reassurance. “Don’t you worry.” I loved to parrot her words. “Daddy, don’t worry,” I’d chirp. “Lynn’s piggy bank… it’s all for you…” He’d break then, leaning down to press his face between ours. A moment later, hot drops would fall onto my chubby cheeks, tickling me. Looking back, I know they were his tears. Before I turned ten, he used to tell me all the time: “When Daddy makes it, when he makes a lot of money, I’m going to make my little girl a princess, okay?” See? He promised. But he broke it. A sharp, condescending voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Excuse me, maid girl, aren’t you going to wash my car? Or do you think you can ignore me just because I’m only Isla’s classmate?” Isla attended a prestigious international school. Her friends were all heirs and heiresses, and they acted like it. But I wasn’t a maid. I glared at her, about to retort. And then— My father’s voice, cool and indifferent, cut through the air. “Why haven’t you gone?” Why haven’t you gone? The words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest. How could I forget? In his eyes, that’s exactly what I was. “Right away.” 4 Matthew had made it clear: if I ever displeased him, he would cut off my tuition and living expenses. But I had promised my mother I would get into the best university. I couldn’t break a promise to her. So, as long as he continued to pay, I would endure anything. I bit my lip and turned to leave. A moment later, a deceptively sweet voice drifted from behind me. “Daddy, maybe we should let Lynn blow out the candles with us? It’s her birthday, too. She was really looking forward to it. She even secretly tried on my new evening gown yesterday…” My brow furrowed. I spun around, ready to deny it. But a wave of disdainful murmurs had already started. “Oh my god, a servant who dares to steal her master’s clothes.” “Isla, did you have that dress disinfected?” “Unbelievable.” “So she’s a little thief.” 5 Hearing them, I almost lunged forward. I wanted to smash Isla’s face into the cake, to make her choke on her own lies. I admit it. Last night, when she was showing off her new dress, I was envious. But that was all. Just envy. I never touched it… I am not a thief. My eyes burned with rage, but I didn’t dare move. Because Matthew, as if sensing my intent, had already stepped in front of Isla. He looked at me, his face a dark cloud of contempt, hatred, and chilling indifference. “How could she have a daughter like you?” he hissed. “Apologize. Or you can drop out of school tomorrow.” The threat again. Always the threat. A bitter laugh escaped me. “How could she have a husband like you?” The words hung in the air. Matthew’s face went black. I had never seen him look so terrifying. 6 CRACK! The sound of the slap echoed through the grand living room. After years of ignoring my existence, this was the first time he had ever laid a hand on me. Within moments, my right cheek was swollen and hot. Rage and pain warred within me. But what could I do? I was sixteen years old. I had a father in name only. A father who ignored me. Hated me. Threatened me. Hit me. It was true. He didn’t love me. Not one bit. And just then, Isla, feigning confusion as if her “good intentions” had gone wrong, rushed over to mediate. “Daddy, it’s normal for girls to like pretty dresses! I didn’t mean it like that!” Then what did she mean? Whatever. It didn’t matter. The blow had already landed. Nothing else could hurt me now. So, Slap. Slap. Slap. I struck Isla three times, hard across the face. “That,” I said, my voice shaking, “is the price for your lies.” 7 After I hit her, Isla wilted like a trampled white lily. “Lynn!” Matthew’s face contorted with pain as he looked at Isla’s tear-streaked, disheveled face. He personally helped her to her feet, his voice a gentle caress. “Does it hurt? Daddy will call a doctor right away.” Isla covered her cheek, tears streaming down her face. “I’m okay, Daddy. Please, don’t blame Lynn. I’m begging you—don’t hit her again.” Her classmates, snapping out of their shock, began to chastise her for being “too kind.” They all urged Matthew to kick me out. Kick me out. The irony was as bitter as it was tragic. I lifted my head, and for the first time, I met Matthew’s eyes directly. I saw the absolute, glacial coldness in their depths. His voice was devoid of all emotion. “Lynn. I’m sending you to an orphanage. From this day forward, you are never to set foot in this house again.” An orphanage. I was satisfied. I was already an orphan, after all. And I could still go to school from there. It was a thousand times better than staying by his side. …A moment later, Matthew’s assistant was at my side, gesturing for me to leave. I turned and walked away, my stride confident. I wouldn’t miss this place for a second. But I’d only taken a few steps when my pocket began to vibrate. My phone. I wanted to ignore it. But the buzzing persisted, a rhythmic knocking against my heart. Finally, I pulled it out. I glanced at the caller ID. And my world froze. I couldn’t believe it. I blinked hard, again and again. Mom. “It’s Mom!” I whispered, my feet rooted to the spot. The assistant urged me on. “Hurry up, Mr. Backman doesn’t want to see you anymore…” I ignored him, my hand trembling as I answered the call. I knew it was impossible. My mother was dead. It had been ten years. This number had been silent for a decade. Was this some kind of cruel prank? Even so… I answered. But I couldn’t speak. My mouth hung open, my mind blank. Then, a voice came from the other end. A voice I knew better than my own.

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1 On the eve of the speed skating finals, my boyfriend, to secure a spot on the national team for his childhood sweetheart, broke my leg. He’d done it before. He once locked me in a bathroom so I’d miss the initial team tryouts. When I finally arrived, breathless and frantic, the selection was over. “You’re a natural talent,” he’d said with infuriating nonchalance. “What’s one more year?” Now, it was the Winter Olympics. His precious sweetheart, Hailey, needed a chance to shine, to make a name for herself in the relay. So he decided to create one for her. By shattering my future. … A fierce wind howled across the hospital rooftop. I was surrounded, trapped. “Barry, please,” I begged, my voice swallowed by the gale. “Let me go. The finals are tomorrow. My legs… I can’t get hurt.” I was on my knees, pleading with the man I loved. My parents died when I was young, leaving me with my grandmother. She had been a speed skater, a rising star whose career was cut short by injury. Her dream, the one she never achieved, was to win a gold medal for our country. She saw her dream reborn in me. I had her talent, her passion for the ice. She poured everything she had into my training, shaping me into a short-track speed skater. Now, even with her own health failing, she never missed a single one of my races. It felt like fate, like the universe was rewarding her devotion. I excelled on the ice, surpassing even her own legacy. The national team had been in a slump, but my arrival reignited the nation’s hope. I was the favorite to win gold. Tomorrow’s final wasn’t just a race. It was everything. I couldn’t bear the weight of a nation’s disappointment. Even more, I couldn’t bear to see my grandmother’s dream die with me. And now, my boyfriend, Barry, was about to break my leg so his childhood sweetheart, Hailey, could take my spot in the relay. Even though it meant I would miss the individual finals, too. Barry’s expression was unreadable. He looked at me with a sort of weary patience, as if I were a child throwing a tantrum. “Anita, don’t be like this,” he said, his voice maddeningly calm. “With you in the lineup, how is Hailey ever supposed to get her moment in the spotlight?” “You’re a prodigy. Winning gold a few years from now won’t make a difference for you. But Hailey’s not like you. She’s been waiting four years for this. An athlete’s career is short. She needs this chance.” I stared at him, my mind reeling. The absurdity of his words was a physical blow. An athlete’s peak is fleeting. No one, not even a prodigy, can stay at the top forever. Her four years were precious, but mine weren’t? My mind raced, searching for an escape. As Barry raised the hammer he was holding, a desperate idea struck me. “Barry, wait! Listen to me!” I cried out. “If you want Hailey in the relay, I can do it! I’ll tell the coach I need to focus on the individual final. I’ll withdraw. She can take my place!” Tears streamed down my face as I looked at him, my voice thick with sincerity. He hesitated, the hammer lowering slightly. A flicker of hope ignited in my chest. “The roster isn’t set yet! We can still change it!” I pressed on. “All I want is the final tomorrow. I’ll even retire after the race, I swear. You know I always keep my word, Barry. Please, just let me go.” He was wavering. The hammer was almost down. Then, Hailey appeared at the rooftop entrance. “Barry, are you done yet?” she whined, her voice laced with impatience. “I need to get back and rest. I have to be in top form.” He didn’t even flinch at her tone. Her presence was all it took. The hammer in his hand rose again. “I can’t risk it, Anita,” he said, his voice hardening. “Hailey’s mother was very good to me. I owe it to her to help Hailey achieve her dream.” His eyes met mine, a flicker of something that might have been regret, or maybe just pity. “It’s okay, babe. Even if your leg is too injured to skate again, it doesn’t matter. I’ll take care of you.” He nodded to the two burly men standing behind me. They grabbed my arms. “To make her dream come true, you have to break my leg?” I screamed, struggling against their grip. “Hailey, you’re a coward! You can’t win on your own, so you resort to this! And you, Barry… I hate you!” 2 I kicked and thrashed, trying to keep them away from my legs, trying to give Barry no clear shot. But I was a fish on a chopping block. It was useless. My resistance only hardened his resolve. More men came forward, pinning me down until I couldn’t move. Someone tried to cover my mouth. “Don’t you dare touch her like that!” Barry snapped. Then his voice softened as he looked down at me. “Don’t be scared, Anita. This will be quick.” He was right. It was quick. Before I could even process it, a bolt of white-hot agony shot from my leg to my brain. “Aaargh!” I screamed. As the men released me and I crumpled, clutching my shattered leg, Hailey’s voice floated down, light and airy. “Is that really enough? Anita is so tough. What if she gets a cortisone shot tomorrow and skates through the pain?” My vision swam with red. I glared at her, my hatred a physical force. An injury like this… a cortisone shot would do nothing. She had to know that. She didn’t just want me out of the race. She wanted me off the ice. Forever. But Barry didn’t know that. Or maybe he just didn’t care. “Then we’ll break it,” he said. Hailey widened her eyes, a perfect picture of innocence. “Oh, but won’t that hurt her terribly?” He waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine. A clean break, and there’s no way she can compete. Besides,” he added, “even if she can never skate again, my family can afford to support her.” Hailey looked down at me, a smirk twisting her lips. “Well then, thank you, Barry.” And with that, she turned and left. She couldn’t be seen here. If I was found injured, she needed to have an alibi. Barry knelt beside me. “Don’t worry, babe,” he whispered, his voice a gentle caress. “I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” His words were a terrifying promise. The men lifted my leg, holding it steady. Barry raised the hammer high. He met my terrified gaze and brought it down. Hard. “Aaaaaaaargh!” The scream was torn from my throat, raw and primal. My leg was broken. Utterly, completely broken. I stared at the grotesque angle of my right leg and my world shattered. It was over. A decade of blood, sweat, and tears. My grandmother’s lifelong dream. The hopes of my team, my country. All of it, gone. Hot tears streamed down my face, mixing with the dirt and grime. I was a broken, pathetic mess on the cold concrete. A flicker of something—pity? regret?—crossed Barry’s face. He moved to pull me into his arms. I closed my eyes, unable to bear the sight of him. His voice, when it came, was a masterpiece of delusion. “Just forgive me this one time, babe. I know it’s not fair, but Hailey’s mom saved my life. I’m just repaying a debt. And if it wasn’t for her, I never would have met you. So, in a way, you owe her, too.” I summoned every last ounce of strength and shoved him away. My eyes, burning with hatred, met his. “Barry,” I rasped, “why didn’t you just die back then?” I was a cornered animal, and he was finally scared. He scrambled back, a flicker of panic in his eyes. But it was quickly replaced by a dark anger. “Anita, I only broke your leg. How can you say something so cruel?” He grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. A slow, terrible smile spread across his lips. “I get it. You’re jealous. You’re jealous of how much I care about Hailey.” He laughed. “Don’t worry, babe. You’re the only one I love. After Hailey’s race, we’ll get married. Just… don’t bring your dying grandmother to live with us. It would be bad luck.” I stared at him, revulsion churning in my stomach. What kind of monster could say such things? He was insane. “In your dreams,” I spat, my voice dripping with venom. “Barry, you and I are done. Forever. I’m breaking up with you.” 3 The moment he realized I was serious, his face twisted into a terrifying mask of rage. His hands closed around my neck. I couldn’t breathe. Black spots danced in my vision. Just as I was about to pass out, his bodyguards pulled him off. Damaging me was one thing; murder was a line even the powerful Sterling family wouldn’t cross. I collapsed to the ground, listening to him rant about how ungrateful I was, how I didn’t appreciate him. We had met on the ice, late one night. Hailey, consumed with jealousy, had made my training a living hell, constantly trying to sabotage me. The other skaters, intimidated by Barry’s family, looked the other way. One night, she stole the key to the rink. The arena was kept at freezing temperatures, even when closed. I always stayed late to practice. She had planned to lock me in overnight. But my grandmother had taken a turn for the worse that day, and I left early to be with her at the hospital. Hailey didn’t know. She ended up locking Barry inside instead, who had come looking for her. When I realized my key was missing, I went back to the rink and found him, shivering and on the verge of hypothermia. After that, he pursued me relentlessly. Flowers, romantic dinners, declarations of love. With him by my side, the bullying stopped. Eventually, I gave in. For the first two years, we were inseparable. The way he looked at me… it was like I was the only person in the world. But that was before Hailey and I moved up to the senior division. On my birthday, he took Hailey to see the Northern Lights. When I was injured, he spent his days shopping with her, carrying her bags. I tried to break up with him. He fell to his knees, begging me. “Babe, her mother died saving my life. I have to be good to her. But it’s just a debt. I see her as a sister. You’re the one I want to spend my life with.” Perhaps because I had also lost my mother, or perhaps because he threatened to kill himself, I gave him another chance. He betrayed me again. For the national team qualifiers, he tricked me and locked me in a bathroom. When I confronted him, he was dismissive. “You’re a prodigy. So what if you have to wait a year? Even if you don’t make it, I can support you.” Because I was absent, Hailey snagged the last spot on the team. I was so exceptional that year, however, that the committee made a special exception and recruited me anyway. But that didn’t change what he had done. I tried to end it for good. But then my grandmother’s heart condition worsened. He used her to blackmail me. “Babe, where are you going to get the money for her treatment on your own? The best cardiac surgeons in the country all work for my family’s hospitals. If you break up with me, do you think they’ll still treat her?” So I stayed. And it all led to this. Lying on the rooftop, the wind biting at my skin, I felt a coldness that reminded me of that first night at the rink. A bitter smile twisted my lips. My voice was flat, devoid of all emotion. “Barry, I should have let you freeze to death.” He roared with rage. “What did you just say?” But the pain and exhaustion were a relentless assault. My vision blurred. The world went black. When I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital room. Barry was by my side. He saw I was awake and immediately dropped his phone, grabbing my hand. I looked at him, but his gaze darted away. He couldn’t meet my eyes. He wouldn’t look like this just because he’d broken my leg. A terrible, sickening suspicion began to form in my mind. “Where is my grandmother?”

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His first love, the woman my husband called his “moonlight,” suffered from severe depression. The mere sight of me would send her into a self-harming spiral. So, to keep his precious moonlight safe, he sent me away. He didn’t care that I was nine months pregnant. He dumped me in his family’s dilapidated ancestral home in the countryside and forgot I existed. Five years after I was defiled and left for dead, his moonlight was diagnosed with kidney failure. The doctors said a blood relative would be the best match. Only then did he remember me—her older sister. He called, his voice a cold command, ordering me to come back at once. My five-year-old daughter answered the phone. Her small voice trembled. “Uncle…? My… my mommy… she’s been dead for a very long time.” 1 “Who is this?” Wayne Heins’s voice was sharp with impatience. “Where’s Beth? Put Beth on the phone!” My daughter, Jenifer, stammered, “You… you wait a minute.” She put down the receiver and ran to find the village elder. “Grandpa, someone’s on the phone for Mommy.” The old man, his back bent with age, shuffled to the phone. “Mr. Heins?” he asked. “You finally…” Hearing an old man’s voice, Wayne’s face darkened. He pressed his temples, taking a deep, calming breath, but his eyes, when they opened, were filled with a barely contained rage. “Where is Beth?” he snapped. “What, is she too scared to take my call? First she has some kid tell me she’s dead, now an old man? Is she going to try that line again?” His voice dripped with condescending fury. “She just wants me to come get her myself, doesn’t she? Fine. For Claire’s sake, I’ll drag her back myself.” He slammed the phone down without waiting for a reply. The next day, a sleek, black car wound its way through the forgotten country roads and pulled up in the village. Wayne stepped out, his expensive suit a stark contrast to the poverty surrounding him. He stared at the half-collapsed old house, his brow furrowed in disgust. The door hung open on one hinge. The inside was gutted, stripped of all furniture. Broken floorboards lay scattered amidst a thick carpet of dust and cobwebs. The windows were shattered. He shot an irritated glance at the young man who had guided him here. “Where is Beth? Tell her to get out here. If she agrees to donate a kidney to Claire, I’ll take her back.” The young man looked pained. “Mr. Heins, I… well, you see… maybe you should wait for the village elder?” Wayne’s eyes narrowed, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Just then, the elder arrived, leaning heavily on a cane. “Mr. Heins.” Wayne gave him a dismissive glance. “Beth. Where is she?” The elder tucked one hand behind his back. “Beth… she can’t come out to meet you.” A cold, mirthless laugh escaped Wayne’s lips. “What, are you going to tell me she’s dead? Tell her to stop with the petty games. I’m not in the mood. I came all this way to get her. What more does she want?” What more did I want? Nothing. I just wanted to live. I wanted to watch my daughter grow up. But I couldn’t even have that. My soul hovered nearby, watching him, a hollow ache where my heart used to be. Five years ago, on the very night I was sent here, I gave birth to Jenifer. A few weeks later, Claire found me. She was consumed with jealousy—that I had married Wayne, that I was carrying his child. First, she sent thugs to destroy the old house. Then, she sent them to harass me, day after day. Finally, she sent them to rape me and kill me. They left my broken body in the mountains for the wild dogs to devour. It was the village elder who noticed I was gone. He organized a search party. They found what was left of me and gave me a proper burial. 2 The elder stroked his thin beard, his eyes clouded with a deep sadness. “Beth,” he said with a heavy sigh, “has been dead for five years.” A mocking smile twisted Wayne’s lips. His expression grew colder, harder. “Do you take me for a child, old man? A woman like her? She’d never have the guts to die.” His hawk-like gaze swept over the villagers who had gathered. He barked an order at his bodyguards. “Find her. I don’t care if you have to tear this entire village apart.” I floated in the air, a silent phantom, as his men went from door to door, pounding on them violently. They shoved aside anyone who answered, storming into their homes, searching for me. The terrified villagers spilled out into the dirt road. The entire village was there, but I was nowhere to be seen. Wayne’s face grew uglier with every passing minute. He stalked over to the elder, his patience gone. He grabbed the old man by the collar. “Tell me. Where have you hidden her? You tell me now, and I might be merciful. Otherwise…” The elder just repeated what he’d said. Wayne’s temper snapped. With a sharp twist, he broke the old man’s wrist. The elder cried out in pain. A small figure darted from the crowd. A little girl in a clean, simple dress, her hair in two neat braids. Her eyes were wide with fear, but she ran to the elder’s side. “Grandpa, are you okay?” she cried. Wayne froze. He looked the little girl up and down, a strange sense of familiarity prickling at him. Jenifer, my brave little Jenifer, launched herself at Wayne, biting his leg with all her might. He kicked her away on instinct. She tumbled to the ground but scrambled back up, her eyes blazing with fury. “You’re a bad man! Grandpa told you, my mommy is dead! Why are you hurting him?” Wayne’s face changed. A dark, terrifying look entered his eyes as he stared at Jenifer. I panicked, instinctively drifting in front of my daughter to shield her, but I was just a ghost. He walked right through me. He snatched Jenifer up by her shirt, his eyes scrutinizing her face. Jenifer kicked and struggled, suspended in the air. Wayne stared at her face, so much like my own, and his voice was a low snarl. “You’re that bastard child.” His hand moved from her shirt to her throat. “Get Beth out here now,” he roared, “or I’ll snap this little bastard’s neck!” I screamed as I watched my daughter struggle for breath. “Wayne, I’m here! I’m right here! Let her go! Let Jenifer go!” But no one could hear me. Jenifer’s face was turning a deep red. I forgot I was dead. I lunged at Wayne, trying to bite the hand that was choking my daughter, but my teeth closed on empty air. The elder, seeing Jenifer begin to go limp, cried out through his pain, “Mr. Heins, wait! Jenifer is your…” Before he could finish, a bodyguard kicked him to the ground. He lay there, groaning in agony. Suddenly, Wayne let Jenifer go. She dropped to the ground, gasping. He swept his cold gaze over the crowd. “Beth,” he announced, his voice a venomous threat, “if you don’t show yourself in three days, I will kill that bastard child.” I looked at the elder, crumpled and broken, and at my daughter’s neck, bruised and purple. A tremor of pure, undiluted hatred ran through me. In that moment, I regretted ever loving him more than I had ever regretted anything in my life. 3 Three days passed in the blink of an eye. This time, Wayne brought Claire with him. The woman who had been so arrogant and triumphant five years ago was now a fragile, withered husk. Wayne lifted her from the car with infinite tenderness, placing her gently in a wheelchair. He tucked a blanket around her, his eyes filled with a pained adoration. All his gentleness was for her. For me, there was only ever impatience and contempt. The elder and I were waiting for them at the edge of the village. Of course, no one could see me. Wayne saw the elder standing alone, and his fury began to simmer. “Seeing Claire so weak… is Beth really so heartless? Refusing to help her own sister?” “Old man, if you hand Beth over, if she agrees to be tested as a donor, I’ll have this road paved. I’ll improve the living conditions for everyone in this village. I’ll even take Beth back as Mrs. Heins. And that bastard child… I will treat her as if she were my own.” He thought he was being generous. A magnanimous king making an offer to a peasant. But the elder gave him the same answer. “Mr. Heins, when Beth came back five years ago, she was constantly harassed by local thugs. I don’t know the exact circumstances of her death. I only know that when I realized she was missing, the whole village searched for her. We found her body in the mountains. It was… badly mauled. I gave her a burial, up on the back hill. You can see for yourself if you don’t believe me.” Wayne laughed, a harsh, disbelieving sound. “Are you kidding me? If she was dead, how was that little bastard born? How did she survive all these years?” The elder sighed. “Jenifer was born the night Beth arrived. After Beth died so suddenly… we couldn’t just abandon the child, could we?” At this, a flicker of something dark and surprised crossed Claire’s face. She knew exactly how I died. The memory was seared into my soul. I had just finished the traditional month of postpartum confinement. Claire showed up with three men. Before I could react, they seized me. She slapped me, again and again. Not satisfied, she ground her heel into my hand, crushing the bones in my fingers. I screamed. “You bitch, Beth!” she’d shrieked. “Why? Why were you born first? Why did you get to marry Wayne? He was supposed to love me!” I tried to speak, but she unleashed a torrent of kicks and punches, a storm of pure hatred. Her men held me down. Finally, I lay broken and dying on the floor. She leaned down, whispering in my ear. “The thought of you sleeping with him, having his child… it makes me sick, my dear sister. You dared to steal my man. For that, even if you are my sister, you have to die.” Then she gestured to the men. They tore at my clothes. They violated me. I don’t know how many times. At some point, I just… stopped breathing. And my soul watched as she ordered them to dump my body in the mountains. The universe has a way of balancing its books. Five years later, Claire’s karma had arrived. The one person who could save her, she had killed with her own hands. She knew, better than anyone, that Wayne’s efforts were futile. I was never coming back.

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My parents beamed at me. “How would you like a baby brother?” they asked. I clutched my ragged stuffed rabbit and shook my head with all the solemnity a four-year-old could muster. “No.” They laughed, ruffling my hair as if my words were meaningless. A year later, they returned with a plump baby boy—my “playmate,” my “protector,” my so-called safety net. But adulthood never came. When Dick developed leukemia, I was strapped to cold steel tables as needles plunged into my bones. When his kidneys failed, my mother signed the consent form for my “voluntary” donation—ignoring my pleas about my blood disorder. I bled to death on that table. When I awoke, I was four again. My mother knelt before me, her face glowing with that same maternal joy. “Kerrie, sweetie,” she cooed, “Mommy has a little secret in her tummy. A baby brother for you. Wouldn’t you like a brother to play with?” In her hands, she held two shiny new action figures. In the corner of the room stood a brand-new, baby-blue crib. I looked down at my own chubby hands, clutching the same faded pink rabbit. I was back. This time, I would not be his living blood bank. I would not be held captive by the illusion of their love. My father knelt beside her, his voice a warm, guiding whisper. “Honey, you’re always scared to sleep alone, aren’t you? With a little brother in the house, you’ll never be lonely again.” He’d said the exact same thing in my last life. But after Dick was born, I had never been more alone. The bedtime stories stopped. I was no longer lifted onto my father’s lap. Overnight, I became invisible. I was told to be mature, to be responsible, to take care of my brother. I was five years old. They expected a five-year-old to shed all jealousy and resentment and devote herself to a creature that hadn’t even been born. Back then, I’d felt a vague sense of loss. I’d tearfully told them I wanted to be their only baby forever. My mother’s face had contorted with rage. “I knew it! Girls are so jealous! First, you try to steal your father from me, and now you want to steal everything from your brother before he’s even here!” I hadn’t understood, I only knew she was angry. I’d sobbed that I was sorry, that I did want a brother. Her smile returned, but later, I heard her whisper to my father, “I saw on the news that an eight-year-old pushed her pregnant mother down the stairs. Who knows what this one might do in a fit of jealousy? We should send her to your parents’ place in the country. Just until after the baby is born.” They named him Dick. A name that meant legacy, succession. Everything would be his. The memories flickered through my mind, and my expression darkened. My mother, thinking I was just confused, took my hand and placed it on her still-flat stomach. “There’s a tiny new life in here, Kerrie. Maybe a brother, maybe a sister. Aren’t you excited?” My father joined her side. “One daughter is enough,” he joked. “I’m hoping for a boy. Someone to protect our little Kerrie when she’s older.” I’d fallen for that line before. I’d been so excited. But the Dick I got was a monster who threw toys at my head and shredded my only Barbie doll with scissors. When I complained, they’d always say the same thing: “But you’re the one who wanted a brother to play with, remember? He’s just a baby, Kerrie. He doesn’t know any better. You have to be patient with him.” They used that excuse to gaslight me through my entire childhood, right up until the moment they used it to justify taking my life. So this time, I pointed a small, steady finger at the new baby furniture and toys filling our home. “You’ve already decided to have him,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “Why are you asking me?” For a moment, they were speechless, their smiles frozen in an awkward tableau. I turned without another word, clutching my worn-out rabbit, and walked upstairs. There was a large, bright room up there that had always been kept empty. It was for “guests,” they’d said. I finally understood it was for him. I went into my own small, cramped room and the tears finally came. I had spent a lifetime bending over backward for them, enduring unimaginable pain, and they still saw it as nothing more than my duty. Whenever I cried from the pain of the needles, hoping for a word of comfort, my mother would just scold me. “You’re the one who said you wanted a brother! Why else would I have had a second child? Now he’s here, and you refuse to take responsibility for him?” My hands clenched into tight fists. I had to get out of this hellhole. I spent a long time thinking, and the conclusion was inescapable: my parents did not love me. My entire upbringing was a lesson in being quiet, frugal, and obedient. I was never to be demanding. The only time I ever broke that rule was when I was three, when I cried for the stuffed rabbit. My mother had slapped me across the face, right there in the street, and left me sobbing in front of the market stall. I cried for hours until my father finally came back and bought it for me. “Mommy doesn’t have a job because she stays home to take care of you,” he’d said, his voice heavy with meaning. “I have to support this whole family by myself. The money for this rabbit could have bought us a proper steak dinner. Don’t be mad at your mother. She just wants you to be a good, sensible girl.” I was three. I thought we were destitute. I apologized to my mother profusely, promising never to ask for a toy again. But my mother’s dresses cost hundreds of dollars. My father smoked expensive imported cigarettes every day. When Dick was born, he got new toys every month. The ten dollars for my rabbit wouldn’t have broken them. They just couldn’t bear to spend money—or love—on me. Sure enough, the next morning, my mother knocked on my door. “Kerrie,” she said, feigning exhaustion, “Mommy’s not feeling well with the baby in my tummy. I can’t take good care of you right now. Would you like to go stay with Grandma and Grandpa for a few days?” I stared at her, my eyes cold. “Is it really just for a few days?” My directness made her falter, but she recovered quickly. “Of course, sweetie. As soon as Mommy feels better, we’ll come get you.” I didn’t spare her another glance. I grabbed my little backpack, stuffed my few items of clothing and my rabbit inside. “Let’s go.” It was her idea, but as I got in the car, she began to cry. “Let your father drive you. It hurts too much to watch you leave.” Anyone watching would have thought she was the most loving mother in the world. In reality, it was guilt. A “few days” was going to be at least a year. The car left the smooth highway for a winding, remote mountain road. The familiar, dilapidated village came into view. “Be a good girl for your grandparents,” my father said sternly. “Help out where you can. Don’t be selfish. And call me if you need anything.” He strapped a kid’s smartwatch to my wrist. I stared at it. “Will you actually answer?” I asked. He looked confused. “Of course I will. Why wouldn’t I answer my little Kerrie’s call?” He smiled. “Don’t worry. Even with a new baby, you’ll always be my favorite. You just be good here, and I’ll be back to get you before you know it.” Liar. In my last life, my uncle’s son bullied me relentlessly, calling me a worthless burden nobody wanted. I called my father, sobbing. He said he was busy at work and hung up. I called five times that first month. He answered twice, for less than ten seconds each time. By the second month, he “forgot” to pay for the watch’s service plan, and the calls wouldn’t go through at all. I thought I had broken it. I hid in a corner and cried, blaming myself, praying they would come for me soon. It was a year and a half before my uncle, on a trip into the city, finally brought me home. The moment I stepped through the door, my mother recoiled, pinching her nose. “Kerrie, you smell like a barn! Don’t they have showers in the country?” At six years old, I was mortified, hiding my face in shame. Compared to the pale, chubby Dick, I was a skinny, sallow little monkey after a year in the sun. It was true, I wasn’t very lovable. But wasn’t she the one who sent me there in the first place? The first day at my grandparents’, my aunt was furious. “It’s bad enough their own parents won’t raise them, now they dump a little girl on us!” My uncle gave me a silent, weary look and went back inside. I squatted under the eaves of their small house with my backpack, drawing pictures in the dirt. They didn’t like me, but my father sent them money every month. They wouldn’t starve me or let me freeze. This time, I wouldn’t cry for parents who would never come. I would take care of myself and build the strength to escape them for good. My grandparents came home from the fields at sunset. They didn’t recognize me at first. “Grandpa, Grandma,” I said, walking up to them. “It’s me, Kerrie. I’ve come to stay with you.” Grandma immediately pulled me into a warm, loving hug. Grandpa’s face broke into a huge grin, and he ushered me inside for cookies. That night, as I lay on a cool straw mat, Grandma fanned me to sleep while Grandpa watched from the doorway, sighing heavily. Tears slid from the corners of my eyes. I swore I would repay their kindness. I would not let them die so tragically this time.

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For him, for Kael, I chose to remain in this brutal, unfamiliar world. I taught them to till the soil and coax life from the earth, to hunt with strategy, to master fire. I gave this clan everything I knew, all to see Kael ascend to the rank of Chieftain. Then, on the day his father was laid to rest, Kael brought a woman back to our stone hut. A timid, trembling thing. “Lyra,” he’d said, his voice low, “this is Faye. She was my father’s mate.” He paused, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “By the Old Ways, the Clan Law… I must take her in. I must care for her.” I stared at the woman cowering behind his formidable frame. A bitter, ugly smile twisted my lips. “I don’t accept this.” Kael’s face hardened, turning to stone. It was the first time he had ever defied me. He forced the issue, bringing Faye into the hut beside ours, a place built for her and his father. And every night since, the sounds began. I would lie awake, staring at the wall of our hut, at the marks I’d scratched there with blood and charcoal. A calendar only I could read. The full moon was coming. Soon. 1 The sounds started again. A low rhythm from the stone hut next to mine. The grunts and soft cries, the heavy thud of bodies against the shared wall, a testament to the raw, desperate passion unfolding within. I pulled the thick furs over my head, trying to block it out, curling into a tight ball on my own cold bed. I don’t know how much time passed before the furs were lifted. A body, radiating heat and the scent of sweat, sat on the edge of my bed. A hand reached for my head, but I flinched away, burrowing deeper into the pelts. “Don’t touch me.” Kael’s hand froze mid-air. He let out a frustrated sigh, his voice laced with a cold edge. “Lyra, don’t be like this.” “It was a duty, nothing more. A ritual for the clan. Why can’t you let it go?” he demanded. “You are the only one who holds the title of my mate.” I clutched the edge of the fur, my knuckles white, refusing to answer. His patience snapped. He ran a hand through his dark, tangled hair. “Once the spring child is born, I’ll send her away. It will satisfy the elders and give the clan an heir. You need to stop being so stubborn. We will raise the child together. He will call you ‘Mother.’ Only you.” He stood then, the conversation over. He couldn’t stand my silent condemnation, so he turned and walked back toward the hut where Faye waited. It was a scene that had played out every night since she arrived. I wiped the dried tear tracks from my face and sat up. The embers of our fire still glowed, but a profound chill had settled deep in my bones. Three years. I had survived in this harsh, primitive world for three years. A world of bitter cold and constant struggle. If it weren’t for Kael, I never would have missed my chance to go home, to let the full moon pass me by. He was the clan’s fiercest warrior, and his courtship had been just as fierce, just as sincere. I pulled the necklace from my throat, a single, sharp tiger’s tooth on a leather cord. My eyes burned. He had broken his vow. He had betrayed me. I remember the day he gave it to me, the day I chose to stay. “Lyra, thank you,” he had whispered, his hands closing mine around the tooth. “I don’t care if you don’t have a Life-Mark. I, Kael, swear on my honor, you will be the only woman in my life. Even if we never have children, I will have you.” And now, a mere three years later, he had brought his father’s mate into our lives. The Clan Law was simple and brutal: a son inherited his father’s mate. This woman, Faye, who shared no blood with Kael, was now his responsibility. His property. He had to care for her, and in return, she had to bear him a child. I had foolishly believed Kael had risen above such primitive traditions. For me. I let out a short, sharp laugh and tossed the necklace into the glowing embers. The firelight danced as the bone blackened, cracked, and crumbled into fine white powder, disappearing into the soot. A tainted promise. I wanted no part of it. The soft, feminine laughter from the next hut drifted through the stone walls, a needle in my ear. My fingers brushed against the bone ring I wore on my right hand. My eyes lifted to the wall, to the crimson symbols I’d painted there. The full moon was coming. It was almost time. 2 I stood trembling with rage, looking at the field of seedlings. Drowned. Suffocated in a pool of muddy water. Beside me, Faye clutched an empty wooden bucket, shrinking back as if I’d struck her. Tears welled in her eyes, a perfect picture of innocence. “Lyra, I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, her voice choked with pity. “I only wanted to help. I didn’t know… I didn’t know a little extra water would kill them all…” Her voice broke into a sob. The high collar of her tunic had slipped, revealing a constellation of red-purple marks on her neck—the bruises of passion. My eyes darted away as if burned. A sour mix of anger and grief churned in my stomach. What was the point of saying anything? The seedlings, our food for the coming winter, were dead. My fists slowly uncurled. I took a step forward, intending to see if anything could be salvaged. Suddenly, Faye gasped, her eyes wide with manufactured terror. She staggered and fell backward in a dramatic heap. Before I could even react, a force like a battering ram slammed into me, sending me flying. My knee crashed against a sharp stone, and a bolt of white-hot pain shot up my leg. I looked up, sweat beading on my brow, and saw Kael. He was dressed in his hunting gear, covered in the dust of the trail. He must have just returned. His eyes were bloodshot with fury. He had Faye cradled protectively in his arms, and the look he gave me was one of pure accusation. “Lyra! You can’t stand the sight of her, can you? You would harm her and my child?” My lips trembled, but the sound that came out was a broken, disappointed laugh. “Did your eyes see me touch her, Kael?” I challenged, my voice shaking. “Or do they only see what you want them to see?” He faltered, his gaze flicking from me to the flooded field. He fell silent for a beat. “They’re just plants, Lyra,” he said finally, his voice hard. “She was only trying to help. Don’t be cruel.” Just plants. With those two words, he dismissed everything. All my work, my knowledge, my gift to his people. Before I came, this clan lived hunt-to-hunt. Their improperly cooked meat led to sickness, to weakness. Their children were born frail, and few survived their first winter. I was the one who found the wild seeds, who taught them to farm, who brought them health and prosperity. My knowledge is what made the clan respect him, what made him Chieftain. And now, he looked at my life’s work and called it “just plants,” all to defend the woman who had destroyed it. “Kael… my stomach hurts,” Faye whimpered, burying her face in his chest. She clung to him like a parasitic vine, her tear-streaked face the very picture of pitiable fragility. It worked. Kael’s attention snapped back to her. He shifted his grip, placing a large, gentle hand over her belly, rubbing in slow, careful circles. The gesture was so tender, so practiced, it was like a knife in my heart. Kael was not a naturally gentle man. He had learned that tenderness for me. Every time I’d been sick or hurt, he’d hovered over me, his rough hands learning to be soft. And now, he was giving that tenderness away. A wave of despair washed over me. The pain in my knee was a dull, throbbing echo of the agony in my chest. I dug my fingers into the damp earth beside me. They stayed like that for a long moment, lost in their own little world. “It still hurts,” Faye whispered. Without another word, Kael swept her up into his arms. He looked over at me, his expression a complex mask of duty and regret. “Lyra, I’m taking her to the Elder Healer.” He started to say something else, but I cut him off. “I’m hurt, too.” Kael froze. I met his gaze, my hand trembling as I pressed it against my bleeding knee. “I’m hurt, too, Kael.” The air grew heavy with silence. His lips parted, his body shifting as if to move toward me. But then Faye’s arm snaked around his neck, pulling him close. “Blood…” she gasped. A slick of crimson ran down her inner thigh. Kael’s face turned ashen. All hesitation vanished. He clutched her tighter and broke into a run, racing toward the Healer’s hut at the far end of the village. I watched them go, a hollow, empty space where my heart used to be. A small, bitter smile touched my lips. In that moment, the last wisp of feeling I had for Kael finally died.

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The first time my boyfriend came to my house, my parents prepared a feast. Just as we all sat down, his phone rang. “Bro, where did you put my lacy panties? I just got out of the shower and can’t find them.” A girl’s voice, pouting and petulant, echoed from the speaker. “And when are you coming back to blow-dry my hair? If you don’t come back, I’ll just let it drip. You’ll be sorry when I catch a cold!” My parents and I exchanged stunned glances. But my boyfriend, Dylan, ignored their thunderous expressions and stood up to leave. Frantic to salvage our three-year relationship, I reminded him that this dinner was meant to discuss our marriage plans. His response was cold. “Chloe needs me. If you insist on going through with these pointless formalities, then maybe we should just put the wedding on hold.” 1 “Dylan, this is the first time you’re meeting my parents,” I said, tugging at his sleeve, my voice a desperate whisper. My father’s face was already a mask of displeasure. My mother, ever the diplomat, tried to smooth things over. “Perhaps his sister is still young, and with no other adults at home, it’s understandable to be worried.” Dylan seized the excuse. “Thank you, Mrs. Cross. You understand. My sister is just a kid, really. She’s always been very attached to me.” But I didn’t understand. This was a hugely important day for both of us. His behavior in front of my parents was a direct reflection of how much he valued me. Apparently, not as much as his sister’s hair. Less than a minute later, her call came again, her voice now laced with tears. “You’ve been at her place for two hours and sixteen minutes. If you’re not home in fourteen minutes, I’m not eating dinner!” The precision was startling. It sounded less like a sister’s plea and more like a jealous lover’s ultimatum. I stared at Dylan, waiting to see how he would respond. His tone was full of alarm. “You can’t do that, Chloe. You know you have a sensitive stomach.” With that, he rushed towards the door. “Why don’t you bring your sister over to eat with us?” my mother offered, still trying to salvage the evening. After all, Dylan and I had been together for three years; she didn’t want to see it all unravel over a phone call. “You don’t live far.” “Okay!” Dylan yelled back, already halfway to the elevator. All we got was his retreating back. The three of us sat in silence, staring at the cooling food. The pork belly my mother had simmered for two hours sat untouched in Dylan’s bowl, as cold as my heart. “Aria, you have a weak stomach too. Have a few bites first,” my mother said, her eyes full of pity. “Don’t overthink it, Aria,” my father added, trying to comfort me in his own way. “When Dylan gets back, your mother and I will have a serious talk with him. Some men are just immature before they’re married. They grow up eventually.” An hour later, Dylan arrived with his sister, Chloe, in tow. I was intensely curious about this Chloe. The moment I opened the door, my eyes fell on her. A kid? Please. She looked like she was a 240-month-old baby. Chloe marched past my family and surveyed the table. “Ugh, everything is so bland. I like spicy food. Why didn’t you make anything spicy?” Even my good-natured mother’s face hardened. “My daughter can’t handle spicy food,” she replied, her voice clipped. “So picky,” Chloe muttered with a pout, then turned to Dylan with a coquettish air. “Bro, even if she marries you, you have to promise there will always be spicy dishes at every meal.” Dylan gently tapped her nose. “Of course. Besides, your sister-in-law is a great cook.” Excuse me? So cooking was now my designated duty? And we were expected to live with his sister in our new house? I glared at Dylan, demanding an explanation. He seemed completely oblivious to my anger, stroking Chloe’s hair as he spoke to me. “I’ve already promised Chloe the master bedroom in our new place. We can take one of the other rooms with the baby, and the guest room can be for my parents when they visit. You don’t mind, do you?” 2 I’d have to be a saint not to mind. And more importantly, he had never once discussed any of this with me. “Dylan, my family paid for half of that house. Why is it only your family living in it?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. He was taken aback, stammering guiltily. “What’s mine and yours? Once you marry me, you’re part of my family, aren’t you?” My parents’ brows furrowed in unison. But before they could speak, Chloe stepped in front of Dylan, her voice sharp. “You’re not even married yet and you’re already obsessed with the house! Once you marry my brother, what’s yours is his, and what’s his is mine.” She turned back to Dylan, pouting. “See, bro? I told you she was no good. She’ll never love you as much as I do.” I love you. Was that something a sister says to her brother? Just as I was about to throw the bizarre pair out, Dylan’s parents arrived, looking flustered. They clearly knew what their daughter was capable of. “Future in-laws, please forgive us,” Dylan’s mother said, forcing a smile. “Chloe is still young. Don’t take her seriously.” My parents exchanged a look. What could they do? The other elders were here now. They swallowed their anger and invited the family of four to the table. The moment I sat down, I felt a pair of resentful eyes boring into me. “Move,” Chloe snapped. “Only I can sit next to my brother.” I gave her a sidelong glance and didn’t budge. “Bro, look at her! She’s already giving me attitude before she’s even married into the family!” Chloe whined. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You can sit on my lap,” Dylan said, patting his thighs as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Chloe shot me a triumphant smirk, then wrapped her arms around Dylan’s neck and settled onto his lap. My parents and I stared, dumbfounded. It didn’t end there. Chloe pointed at the plate of steamed shrimp. “Bro, I want shrimp.” Dylan immediately pulled the entire plate in front of him and began to meticulously peel them for her. Watching him pop the peeled shrimp directly into her mouth, a wave of revulsion washed over me. It was only then that I remembered her first phone call, asking him to find her lacy underwear, and the full weight of its strangeness hit me. “What a close relationship they have,” my mother said, her laugh strained. I let out a cold snort. “Yes, so close they could be husband and wife.” I turned to Dylan. “You know, maybe we should just have a blood-brother ceremony instead of a wedding. Watching you with your sister, I finally realize you treat me more like a buddy.” “No, Aria, that’s not it… Chloe, honey, get down for a minute.” Dylan finally sensed my anger. He reached for my hand, but Chloe slapped it away. “Don’t you touch her!” she shrieked, her face a mask of wounded betrayal. Dylan’s mother quickly came over and tried to coax her. “Sweetie, be good. Let your brother comfort your sister-in-law first. There will be plenty of time to comfort you later.” “No!” Chloe clung to Dylan even tighter, resting her head on his shoulder. “My brother promised he would love me the most, forever.” She looked up at him. “Bro, you’ll wash my underwear forever, blow-dry my hair forever, and peel my shrimp forever, right?” 3 Dylan stroked his sister’s hair, his voice dripping with affection. “Of course, I will. I’ll spoil you for the rest of your life.” Then he turned to me, his confidence baffling. “Aria, when you’re my wife, you’ll love my sister too, won’t you?” I was stunned into silence. Love… this girl who acted more like his mistress? My father, his face flushed with anger, slammed his chopsticks on the table. “I’ve lived for decades, and I have never seen a twenty-year-old woman sit on her brother’s lap like that.” “I don’t care how shameless your family is, but to demand my daughter marry into this madness? Never!” “He won’t even let Dylan touch her hand! What kind of marriage would that be? A lifetime of celibacy?” My father’s harsh words finally spurred Dylan’s father into action. He stood up to pull Chloe off Dylan’s lap. “No!” Chloe buried her face in Dylan’s chest and began to sob. “Bro, does getting married mean we have to be separated? It’s their dirty minds that see everything as dirty! Why are they blaming me?” Dylan hugged her protectively, then turned on me. “Aria, you promised me you’d be a good sister-in-law. How can you let your father talk to us like this?” Their performance was so absurd I couldn’t help but laugh. “My God, I had no idea your ‘cute little sister’ was such a shameless creature.” “Aria! What’s that supposed to mean? How could you say that about Chloe?” Dylan’s voice was sharp with anger. “Are you really going to make a scene in front of our parents over such a trivial thing?” I glanced at the four silent parents, their expressions a mixture of embarrassment and anger. They were only here for our sake. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, and made one last attempt. “Dylan, it wasn’t easy for us to get to this point,” I said, my voice even. “If we’re serious about getting married, I need you to focus your heart on our family.” “If we didn’t have a house, I wouldn’t say a word. But we do. And I need your sister to stay out of our lives.” My cheeks flushed as I spoke. Thinking back on our three years together, a lump formed in my throat. “No.” His rejection was instant, without a moment’s thought. “Chloe and I are family for life. I won’t change for you.” “If you love me, you should love my family.” “If you don’t like Chloe, then there’s no point in discussing this further. Let’s take a few days to cool off. When you’ve thought it through, we can talk.” His decisiveness brought tears to my eyes. I had been so excited for this day, never imagining it would be the day we broke up. After a few moments of silence, I wiped my tears away, a cold smile forming on my lips. I stood up and opened the front door. “If there’s nothing to talk about, then take your family and get out of my house.” Dylan, seeing my resolve, started to argue. But my mother, her patience finally gone, roared, “Get out! And don’t you ever bother my daughter again!” As they left, they were still muttering indignantly. “What kind of person gets jealous of a man’s own sister?” My father started to go after them, but I stopped him. “Dad, don’t waste any more time on trash.” I thought that would be the end of it. But a few days later, Dylan and Chloe showed up at the high-end matchmaking agency where I worked. “Aria, I’ve found a way to solve our problem.” “Just give my sister the contact information for a few of your VVIP clients. Once she’s living in a mansion and driving a luxury car, she won’t need to cram in with us. Then everyone will be happy.”

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At the end-of-year review meeting, Jonathan’s childhood friend, Cheryl, stood up and asked to be made the project lead, a move that would secure her promotion to Vice President. For the good of the company, I said no. In a fit of rage, she quit, announcing she was going home to get married. Under my leadership, the project netted over ten billion in profit, and our company went public. Later, I married Jonathan. But during our honeymoon, I was kidnapped and thrown into a cartel’s hidden compound deep in the desert. As I frantically looked for a way to signal for help, I heard Jonathan’s cold voice cut through the darkness. “You can have your fun with her. Do whatever you want to this venomous bitch.” I screamed, demanding to know why. Jonathan’s answer was a brutal kick to my stomach. “If you hadn’t stolen the project lead position from her, Cheryl would never have been forced into an abusive marriage. She wouldn’t have died. This is what you owe her.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on the very day Cheryl demanded to be made project lead. … “Zoe,” she said, her voice cloyingly sweet, “I was hoping I could be the lead on the Riley Corp project. It’s the last thing I need on my record to get promoted to VP.” The familiar words sent a jolt through me. A glance at the wall clock confirmed it. I had been reborn. Jonathan nudged me from the side. “Zoe, did you hear Cheryl? Just give her the position. She needs the credit more than you do.” In my past life, I had refused them instantly. The Riley project was a hundred-million-dollar deal, a make-or-break opportunity that could take our company public. Cheryl simply didn’t have the skills to manage it. To soften the blow, I told her that if the project succeeded, everyone on the team would get a promotion and a hefty bonus. She took it as a personal insult, quit on the spot, and disappeared back to her hometown to get married. I never heard from her again. The project was a massive success. The company went public. Jonathan and I got married. And on our honeymoon, I was taken. When I came to, I saw Jonathan standing with my kidnappers, his face a mask of cold indifference. “Do what you will with this black-hearted snake,” he’d said. As their hands pawed at me, I screamed at him, over and over, “Why?” He drove his foot into my gut. “If you hadn’t been so selfish, so possessive of that title, Cheryl wouldn’t have been married off to that monster. She wouldn’t have been beaten to death. You owe her this.” The memory of that agony, of dying in filth and despair, made my hands tremble with a rage so fierce I had to clench them into fists to contain it. Jonathan tugged at my arm again, his voice sharp with impatience. “Zoe, what are you daydreaming about? Did you hear me? Give the position to Cheryl.” I looked at his annoyed face and let out a cold, sharp laugh. “When I was working myself to the bone for this project, losing sleep and hair, I asked Cheryl to help share the load. And what did you two say? ‘You’re the project lead, you should do more.’ When I was drinking myself sick, ending up in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer just to schmooze clients, you said, ‘You’re the lead, it’s your responsibility.’” The bitterness of my sacrifices rose in my throat. I turned my gaze to Cheryl, my voice dripping with scorn. “Where were you then? Why didn’t you want to be the project lead when the work was hard and dirty? Now that the proposal is written, the deal is negotiated, and all that’s left is to sign the contract, you suddenly want to swoop in and take the credit? Cheryl, how do you even have the nerve to say something so shameless?” My blunt words made her eyes well up with tears instantly. “Zoe, you don’t understand. My family is poor. I need this promotion to help them. My mom… she said if I don’t start making real money, she’s going to marry me off to some rich, old monster to pay off my brother’s debts.” Then, she dropped to her knees in front of me, pressing her forehead to the floor. “Please, Zoe, I’m begging you. I don’t want to go back home. That man… he’s already had two wives who died under mysterious circumstances. If I marry him, I’m as good as dead. Please, don’t force me to go back.” Jonathan shoved me so hard I stumbled backward. His eyes were blazing with fury. “Zoe, are you really that heartless? Do you have to push her to her death to be satisfied?” The entire office was now staring, their whispers filling the air. “What is wrong with you, Zoe? You drove her to her knees!” “Just because you come from money doesn’t give you the right to treat people like this. How could you be so cruel as to make her kneel and beg?” The shove sent my hip crashing into the sharp corner of a desk. A gasp of pain escaped my lips. Rubbing the throbbing spot, I straightened up, walked over to Jonathan, and slapped him hard across the face. “Who the hell do you think you are,” I seethed, “to lay a hand on me?” Without missing a beat, I spun around and kicked Cheryl’s kneeling form, sending her sprawling. “If you want to kneel, go find your mother’s grave and do it there. Don’t bring your bad luck near me.” Gasps echoed through the office, followed by a fresh wave of condemnation. “Zoe, now you’re hitting people? You’ve gone too far!” I laughed, a cold, humorless sound. “I’ve gone too far? When I was pulling all-nighters to find new clients, when I was in the hospital for this company, did anyone say I’d gone too far?” I swept my gaze across their faces. “When you were cashing the bonus checks from the deals I closed, did you think that was too much?” “You’re all a bunch of ungrateful parasites. You throw people away the second you’re done using them.” Silence. They stared at their shoes, ashamed. I pressed my advantage, my tone laced with ice. “If pity is all it takes for me to give up what’s mine, then why don’t all of you donate your corneas to the blind? It’s not like you’re using your eyes to see the truth anyway.” That finally seemed to get through to them. One by one, they mumbled apologies in my direction before turning on Cheryl. “Cheryl, Zoe poured her heart and soul into this project. She’s earned her position as lead.” “Exactly! Just because you have a sad story doesn’t give you the right to emotionally blackmail her. Zoe doesn’t owe you anything.” Seeing the tide turn against her, Cheryl panicked. Her tears became a full-blown flood. “Zoe, that’s not what I meant… I… If you’re really going to force my hand, then… then I’ll just go and die!” My heart ached with frustration. All I did was state the facts, and suddenly I was the villain driving her to suicide. It was so transparently manipulative, anyone with eyes could see it. But Jonathan, as always, was blind. He rushed to Cheryl, pulling her into a protective embrace, his voice soft with pity. Then he turned to me, his tone now a stern command. “Zoe, that’s enough. As of today, Cheryl is the project lead. You will be a member of her team. Do your job and don’t cause any more trouble.” I gritted my teeth, fury coursing through me. “On what grounds? I landed this deal. I’m not giving it up.” “What do you mean, you landed it?” Jonathan scoffed. “Riley Corp is working with us because our company has potential. Stop taking all the credit for yourself. Even without you, Cheryl could have closed this deal. She might have even done a better job.” Cheryl, nestled in his arms, nodded in agreement. “Riley Corp probably heard about Jonathan’s genius reputation. That’s why they trusted a small company like ours.” I couldn’t help but laugh, a hollow, bitter sound. Seeing the smug certainty on Jonathan’s face, I just shrugged. “Fine. If that’s what you believe, then I don’t want to be the project lead anymore.” Jonathan smiled, satisfied, thinking I’d finally caved. “Don’t worry, Zoe. There will be other opportunities for you. You don’t need to fight with Cheryl over this one.” Cheryl walked over, a triumphant, provocative glint in her eye. “Zoe, you can just continue with the parts of the project you were already handling. Once the final proposal is ready, I’ll go and sign the contract with Riley Corp.” I almost laughed out loud. As the project lead, I had been shouldering a quarter of the entire workload myself. Now they wanted me to keep doing the work of a pack mule without the title or the credit? What a beautiful dream. “Sorry,” I said, my voice sweet as poison. “I’m not doing it.” Cheryl’s brow furrowed. “Zoe, this project is critical to the company. Stop messing around.” Jonathan’s face hardened. “Zoe, if you’re going to keep throwing a tantrum, you can get the hell out of this company.” At that, I grabbed my bag and stood up. “Great! I’m gone. And since you’re firing me, remember to deposit my severance pay—three times my salary—into my account.” Without a backward glance, I walked out of the company and into the fresh air of my new life. Once outside, I called my brother. “Lucas? The deal’s off. Jonathan just fired me.” My brother’s voice was laced with shock. “What? Isn’t he your boyfriend? You’ve been with him since college, helped him build that company from the ground up. How could he fire you?” I quickly recounted the day’s events. I heard a loud thud on the other end of the line—the sound of his fist hitting a desk. “Dump him,” he snarled. “Dump that scumbag right now. You don’t need trash like that. I’ll find you a new guy—six-foot-three, eight-pack abs, and a hundred percent loyal.” He took a breath. “I’m canceling the partnership. Honestly, if it wasn’t for you, his little startup wouldn’t have even made it past our initial screening.” That night, back at my apartment, I couldn’t shake the bitterness. I had poured so much of myself into that company. Lucas must have seen the melancholy on my face. “Zoe,” he said gently, “why don’t you come work at Riley Corp? You can take over this partnership project from our end. Get familiar with the business. You own a piece of it, you know. Once you’re settled, you can choose whoever you want to partner with.” I thought for a moment, then nodded. It was the perfect solution. A week later, it was the day of the official bidding presentations for the Riley Corp partnership. As soon as I walked into the lobby, I saw Jonathan with his arm wrapped possessively around Cheryl’s waist. He spotted me and his face twisted into a scowl. “Zoe? You’re not the project lead anymore. What are you even doing here?” Cheryl chimed in, her voice dripping with mock pity. “Oh, Zoe. Didn’t you say you were leaving the company? Why did you follow us here?” I shot them an icy glare. “This isn’t your building. I can go wherever I please.” Jonathan let out a derisive laugh. “Zoe, be realistic. You probably couldn’t even get past the front door of Riley Corp without our company’s name on a visitor pass. You should leave now, before I have security throw you out. That would be embarrassing.” I rolled my eyes, ready to walk away, but Jonathan grabbed my arm and shoved me. I stumbled and fell to the floor. “Security!” he yelled, his voice echoing in the marble lobby. “How did this person get in here?” A guard rushed over. “This woman is impersonating one of our employees to cause trouble,” Jonathan said authoritatively. “Get her out of here.” “Wait, you’re mistaken,” I said, trying to get up. “I’m the project manager for this partnership, from Riley Corp.” Jonathan laughed cruelly. “Still lying through your teeth. You just got fired from our company, and now you’re suddenly a project manager at Riley? Who do you think you are? Why would a powerhouse like Riley Corp ever hire you?” A crowd had gathered, their eyes on me, whispering and pointing as the guards dragged me out and deposited me on the sidewalk. I let out a cold laugh and sat down right there on the curb. Fine. Let’s see how this meeting goes without me. Inside the Riley Corp conference room, ten minutes had passed. Jonathan grew antsy and asked one of the Riley executives when the meeting would begin. The executive, a senior manager named Mr. Lee, frowned. “We’re still waiting for our project lead to arrive.” Another half an hour crawled by. “I don’t understand,” Mr. Lee muttered, checking his watch. “Ms. Riley said she arrived a while ago. How is she not here yet?” Someone suggested calling her. When my phone rang, I was sipping a bubble tea at the shop next door. “Oh,” I said calmly into the phone when Mr. Lee asked where I was. “I was there. But I got thrown out. I’m at the tea shop downstairs.” A few minutes later, Jonathan, Cheryl, and their team appeared in the doorway of the shop, their faces slick with sweat. Jonathan spotted me and stormed over, his expression a mask of irritation. “Zoe, you have some nerve showing your face here. Get out, now. If you disrupt our partnership meeting with Riley Corp, I’ll make you regret it.” He then scanned the small shop, seeing only me and the staff. He turned to Mr. Lee, confused. “Mr. Lee, you said your project lead was here. I don’t see anyone.” Mr. Lee shoved Jonathan aside and hurried towards me, his face a mixture of apology and deference. “Ms. Riley, my deepest apologies. Why are you out here? Why didn’t you come inside?” I glanced at Jonathan and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I tried. But I was thrown out. I was told I might disrupt their very important partnership with Riley Corp.” Understanding dawned on Mr. Lee’s face, quickly replaced by a flash of anger directed at Jonathan. “She would disrupt it? Let me make something crystal clear. This entire project hinges on Ms. Riley’s approval. If she’s not in the room, there is no deal. For anyone.” Jonathan and Cheryl stared at me, their jaws slack with disbelief. “Zoe? You’re the Riley project lead? How is that possible? There must be some mistake! Mr. Lee, you have to be wrong. We just fired her! A person with such weak skills and poor character could never get a job at Riley Corp!” Even now, faced with the truth, they couldn’t accept it.

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With the doctor’s pitying gaze on me, I swallowed the pill. My death was now scheduled for three days’ time. Terminal cancer. My one and only chance at life-saving chemotherapy had been bought out from under me by my husband, Marcus. He’d given it to my adopted sister, Claudia, who only had an early-stage diagnosis. So I abandoned the doctor’s desperate treatment plan and took the powerful analgesic instead. It would block all pain, granting me three days of blissful ignorance. The price was total organ failure. In these last three days, I gave up everything. When I signed over the company I had built from scratch, my parents smiled, relieved. When Marcus produced the divorce papers and I signed without a fight, he sighed and called me “understanding.” When I pushed my daughter, Mia, toward Claudia and told her to call Claudia “Mom,” she clapped her hands and said her new mommy was the best. Even when I handed over my properties and personal wealth to Claudia, they saw nothing wrong. They just looked at me with that same, placid satisfaction. “Our thoughtful Stella is finally back.” I am, however, morbidly curious. When I’m gone, will they even remember me? 1 After taking the pill, I walked to Claudia’s hospital room. Inside, my father was peeling an orange for her while my mother chatted happily by her bedside. The moment I entered, the warmth on their faces vanished, replaced by a familiar, icy disapproval. “What, you’re done with your little act? Here to cause more trouble for Claudia?” my father’s voice was cold steel. “Let me tell you, Stella, as long as we’re here, you won’t lay a hand on her.” “We raised you better than this,” my mother chimed in, pointing an accusing finger at me. “I don’t know where you learned to be so vile. So jealous of your sister that you’d try to steal her chemotherapy slot.” She shook her head in disgust. “I should never have given birth to you.” From a corner of the room my parents couldn’t see, Claudia shot me a triumphant, mocking smile. I lowered my gaze. I had heard these words a thousand times. In the past, I would have fought back, screamed, tried to expose Claudia’s lies, even though my parents never believed a word I said. But I was tired. So incredibly tired. I had no fight left in me. “Well, you’re just in time. There’s something I need to discuss with you,” my father said, his tone all business. I managed a small smile. “Dad, I have something to tell you, too.” “Claudia wants my businesses and my company, right? I’ve thought it over. They’re all hers.” My father froze. My mother stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. “How did you know I was going to talk to you about that today? You agree?” I forced a faint smile. I couldn’t blame them for their shock. Claudia had been coveting my assets for years, and my parents had used every trick in the book—threats, guilt, praise—to get me to hand them over. I’d always refused. But what did any of it matter now? These things were meaningless to a dead woman. Seeing the sincerity in my expression, my mother’s face finally broke into a genuinely relieved smile. She stepped forward and stroked my hair. “You’ve finally seen the light!” “Claudia was always brighter than you in school. Even now, while she’s sick, she has a much better head for business.” “We’ll feel so much better knowing your company and shops are in her capable hands.” I pulled the transfer agreements from my bag and handed them to Claudia. After she signed, my parents took my hands, calling me a good girl, their good daughter. A bitter irony curled in my stomach. It was only when I yielded to Claudia that my mother ever smiled at me like this. A morbid curiosity sparked within me again. When they finally discover Claudia’s true colors, after I’m dead and gone, will they feel a single shred of regret? That evening, I returned home to find my husband, Marcus, and our daughter, Mia, cooking in the kitchen. The cancer had weakened me, and the sound of the front door closing was faint. They didn’t hear it, too engrossed in their cheerful preparations. When Marcus turned with a finished dish and saw me, his smile faltered for a second before snapping back into place. “Stella, when did you get back? You were so quiet.” My eyes fell to the plate in his hands. A light vegetable stir-fry with tofu. Claudia’s favorite. From the look of it, he’d achieved professional-chef quality. How ironic. I was on my deathbed, and only now did I learn that the man I’d lived with for five years could cook. He had always criticized my cooking, and under his influence, Mia had grown to disdain it too. I’d poured my heart and soul into this family, only to be met with constant disrespect. In the past, a scene like this would have sent me into a hysterical rage. Now, I just felt empty. I walked past them, sat on the sofa, and began tidying my purse. Marcus watched me, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He set the dish down and walked over. “Stella, there’s… something I need to talk to you about.” He rubbed his nose, a nervous habit. “It’s about your sister, Claudia.” My heart sank. A terrible premonition washed over me. His next words confirmed it, leaving me stunned and breathless. “After her chemo, Claudia’s been really down. Your parents thought… they thought it might lift her spirits if you and I got a divorce, so that she and I could get married. Just symbolically, of course. To bring her some good luck.” 2 A roaring filled my ears. It took a long moment for me to find my voice. “And you agreed?” Marcus sighed, a heavy, put-upon sound. “Stella, I know Claudia isn’t your biological sister, but since Mom and Dad adopted her, she’s family.” “And it’s just for show. To help her heal. As soon as she’s out of the hospital, I’ll still be your husband. Mia’s father.” Before I could respond, Mia piped up from the kitchen. “Yeah, Mom! Auntie Claudia has been so sad lately. You need to be more understanding!” I stared at the two of them. The man I had loved for years. The child I had painstakingly raised. I had done nothing wrong. I had been a devoted wife, a loving mother, a dutiful daughter. And for my efforts, I received only betrayal. But it didn’t matter anymore. If Claudia wanted them, she could have them. She could have it all. I looked up at Marcus. “Fine. I agree.” A flash of surprise crossed his face. “Really?” He immediately rushed to a drawer and pulled out a set of divorce papers, placing them on the coffee table. A humorless smile touched my lips. Marcus, oh Marcus. You can’t even pretend to hide your eagerness, can you? I picked up the pen and signed my name. When I was done, Marcus’s face was a mask of solemn, heartfelt relief. “Stella, as soon as Claudia recovers, we’ll remarry. I promise. I will never betray you.” He signed his own name, then looked at me and sighed again. “Stella, you’re so much more mature about this than you used to be. I know I haven’t always been fair. That was my fault.” “Once Claudia is well, I promise I’ll never make you worry about anything again.” “Yeah, Mom!” Mia added, puffing out her chest like a little adult. “You’re being so good to Auntie Claudia. I’m so proud of you!” Looking at them, the last embers of hope in my heart turned to ash. Until this moment, I had held onto a tiny, secret sliver of hope for Marcus and Mia. Now… there was nothing left to hope for but death. I stood to go to my room, but a wave of vertigo slammed into me. The world tilted, and I collapsed. In the last second before the darkness took me, I saw the panic on Marcus’s face. I was awoken by a biting cold. When I opened my eyes, I was still on the floor. Marcus and Mia were standing over me, their faces etched with disappointment. “See, Dad? I told you she was faking it,” Mia said, her voice full of scorn. “Mom, can you stop being so childish? You’re going to make us late for our hospital visit with Auntie Claudia!” Faking it? Then Marcus spoke, his voice heavy with disapproval. “Stella, can you please stop the drama?” “I already told you, even though we’re divorced, you’re the one I love. You don’t need to test me with these kinds of childish games.” His words clicked into place. I finally understood. The analgesic I’d taken was designed to block all symptoms of my illness for three days. To the outside world, I would appear perfectly healthy, my complexion normal. The side effect was, of course, catastrophic organ failure. The drug was working a little too well. I pushed myself up. “It was just low blood sugar. I’m fine. I’ll come to the hospital with you.” “There are some more transfer documents that Claudia needs to sign.” Marcus nodded, unsurprised. My parents must have already told him. At the hospital, Claudia was watching TV. “Stella, you’re here!” Her face was still pale, but her spirits were clearly high. The smug triumph in her eyes was impossible to miss. “Stella, thank you for trusting me with your businesses. I promise, I won’t let you down!” “That’s right, dear,” my mother cooed. “With Claudia managing everything, you can just relax at home and collect your dividends. Isn’t that wonderful?” I pulled the remaining documents from my bag. “In that case, I might as well give her all my personal assets to manage too.” “That way, I won’t have to worry about a thing ever again.” The entire room fell silent. 3 “Stella, are you serious? You want to give Claudia all your property?” Marcus grabbed my arm, his eyes wide with shock. Now it was my turn to be confused. They had always sided with Claudia, given her whatever she wanted. If I ever refused, they would berate me for days. Now that I was giving her everything, they were questioning it? My father was the first to recover, his face glowing with pride. “The child has finally grown up! Our efforts weren’t wasted on you after all!” “Stella, you’re finally learning to accept your sister. This is a good thing!” “From now on, you two can live together in harmony. Even when we’re old, we can finally be at peace.” Peace? Dad, Mom, you’ve been blinded by Claudia’s facade for years. Do you really believe she’ll take care of anything I built? A fresh wave of dizziness washed over me. My nose tickled. I touched it and my fingers came away stained with blood. “Stella, a nosebleed? The weather hasn’t even been that dry,” my mother asked, her brow furrowed in mild concern. My hand froze. I couldn’t stop myself. I looked at them, a hollow space opening in my chest. “Mom, Dad… if, one day, I really died from an illness… would you regret any of this?” My mother’s expression didn’t even flicker. She just gave me a dismissive smile. “You look perfectly healthy. How could you die from an illness? Don’t say such unlucky things.” “Exactly,” my father added, his gaze shifting anxiously to Claudia. “Claudia’s the one we need to worry about. We need to make sure she recovers fully.” “I agree!” Mia piped up. “Mom is super healthy. Auntie Claudia is the one we’re all worried about!” The last, fragile thread of hope inside me snapped. There was nothing left to wait for. I looked down at Mia and smiled. “Mia, you’ve always wanted your Auntie Claudia to be your real mom, haven’t you?” “I’ll grant your wish. From now on, Claudia is your mother. Aren’t you going to call her that?” A look of pure ecstasy lit up Mia’s face. “Really?!” I nodded, my smile feeling brittle. “Once you call her Mom, you can have her cooking all the time. She can be with you whenever you want. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Are you happy?” Mia jumped up and down. “Yay! Mommy is the best in the world! Thank you, Mommy!” She pulled her hand from mine and threw her arms around Claudia. My parents and Marcus watched the scene, their faces beaming with approval. I turned and walked out of the room. I glanced back one last time. My parents were laughing with Claudia, playfully teasing Mia. Marcus was watching them, a gentle smile on his face. Not a single person noticed I was gone. I closed the door and left the hospital. One day left to live. I had nowhere to go. My entire life had been a frantic, hurried rush. I’d never once taken the time to just… be. I bought a ticket to Brighton and watched the sea under the moonlight. I wanted to climb the cliffs, but my body wouldn’t let me. Just as the world began to fade, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in almost five years. Then, everything went black. 4 I woke up in a hospital. My eyes darted to the clock. Six hours left. Beside me, my best friend, Jane, was sitting with red-rimmed eyes. Years ago, Jane had begged me not to marry Marcus, insisting he wasn’t worthy of me. I hadn’t listened. We’d had a massive fight, and she hadn’t even come to my wedding. I knew I shouldn’t have bothered her now. But besides her, in this entire world, I had no one else. “What the hell happened to you?” Her voice was choked with tears. “Weren’t you so proud after you married him? Weren’t you a perfect, happy family? How did it come to this? Why is the doctor saying your organs are failing?” I was on a ventilator, but I managed a small smile. We’d made a pact as kids. If one of us was at the end of our life, the other, no matter what, would handle the aftermath. I couldn’t speak. I could only weakly lift my hand and point to my purse. Jane pulled out a stack of documents. She read them for a moment, then gave me a slight, firm nod and put them in her own bag. Thank God. Our old telepathy hadn’t faded. We didn’t need words. Three hours left. I refused all further medical intervention. After another period of unconsciousness, I woke to Jane holding her phone up for me to see. It was a series of texts from Claudia. [Stella, I won. I got everything that was yours.] [Did you really think you could compete with me? If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for being so useless. And for having parents who love me so much more.] [Just disappear quietly from the family now. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your parents for you. And your husband and daughter, too. ♡] Jane saw the messages and started sobbing, cursing Claudia through her tears. I let out a silent, self-mocking sigh. I had never regretted anything in my life, except for one thing: convincing my father to sponsor Claudia. I first saw her at a run-down orphanage. I was a young volunteer, trailing behind a teacher. It was snowing heavily, and all the other children were huddled inside for warmth. Only Claudia was out back, by the dumpsters, picking at leftover bones someone had thrown away. I couldn’t bear it. I went home and begged my father to help her. After that, Claudia and I became inseparable. The next year, she joined my class at school. With her natural charm and intelligence, she quickly won over the teachers and students. Whenever someone praised her, I felt a surge of pride. Then, slowly, things began to change. My friends started to drift away from me, pulling Claudia into their circle as their new best friend. The boys who’d had crushes on me grew cold, only to later make grand, public declarations of love for Claudia. Even my parents started insisting I bring Claudia home for dinner, for sleepovers, until eventually, they split my bedroom in two and gave her half of it. I was too naive, too oblivious back then. I never realized that Claudia’s greatest talent was using the praise of others to steal everything that belonged to me. By the time I finally understood, it was too late. My room was gone. My family was gone. My entire life had been taken over by her. I did ask her why once. Her answer sent a chill through my bones. “Stella, do you think I’m grateful for your sponsorship? How could I be?” “I can’t stand the way you flaunt everything in front of me. I will take everything from you.” “I just want to see the look of despair on your face when you have nothing left.” … I once thought I could drive her away. I thought I could make my parents and Marcus see her for who she was. But I was too naive. I underestimated her cunning, and I fatally overlooked the genuine affection my parents, Marcus, and Mia had for her. I lost. Utterly and completely. Nine minutes left. My consciousness was fading, my vision blurring. But I could still see the screen of the phone Jane was holding. A new message from my mother. [Stella, find someone to paint the walls in that house of yours pink in the next few days. Your sister loves pink!] [Also, your sister will be discharged in about two weeks. When she is, clear out some of your things. Claudia needs space for her stuff!] Even in my last moments, my mother was only thinking of Claudia. It seemed I truly meant nothing to her. So be it. Jane was screaming something in my ear, but I couldn’t hear her anymore. I fought for so long. I’m so tired. Finally, I can get some sleep… On November 24th, Stella Miller passed away in a Brighton hospital. She was 29 years old.

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1 My wife of three years, in a marriage that had been sexless from the start, was pregnant. And she wanted the world to know. She’d made a thousand copies of the ultrasound report, announcing to anyone and everyone that she was carrying another man’s child. I heard she and her friends were even placing bets, wagering on how spectacularly I would lose my mind. “Remember how Christopher begged to marry you? He knelt before your mother for hours, right there on the street for all to see.” “He’s going to go absolutely ballistic when he finds out you’re pregnant.” Clarissa’s face twisted in disgust at the memory. “We don’t even have a marriage license. What kind of husband is he? He’s nothing but a dog who knows how to grovel at my mother’s feet. If it weren’t for him, I would have been free years ago!” Fearing I might retaliate against the child’s real father, she had her security detail break my leg. Then they threw me in the cellar and left me there for seven days and seven nights. By the time they let me out, she was already in another country, getting married to someone else. This time, I didn’t fight. I calmly called her mother. “Mrs. Sterling,” I said, my voice hollow. “The five-year pact… I’ve lost. I’ll keep my promise. I’ll disappear forever.” Two freshly printed marriage certificates slapped down on the table in front of me. “Caleb and I are legally married now,” Clarissa said, her voice dripping with venom. “All that’s left is the ceremony. You’ve clung to me for three years. Isn’t that enough?” My eyes stung, transfixed by the smiling photo of them on the official paper. Clarissa and I had a wedding, a grand affair, but she’d refused to ever make it legal. Seeing my stunned silence, a triumphant smirk played on her lips. “I’ve already moved Caleb in. And just so we’re clear, I married him because I’m carrying his child.” Her gaze dropped to my right leg. “If you have a shred of dignity left, you’ll make things clear to my mother. But if you keep harassing me,” she added, her voice turning to ice, “I won’t hesitate to have your other leg broken.” My injured leg, left untreated for seven days, had gone from searing agony to a dead, heavy numbness. “Fine,” I managed to choke out, closing my eyes. She hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. A flicker of surprise crossed her face. “I’ll move into the guest room,” I said, my voice flat. “He’s the father. It’s only right he stays in the master bedroom to take care of you.” I meant every word. A week ago, when she’d paraded her pregnancy, making sure everyone knew the child wasn’t mine, she’d turned me into a city-wide joke. Three years. Three years, and I still couldn’t melt the ice around her heart. “And don’t worry,” I added. “I’ll handle your mother. I won’t bother you again.” Clarissa’s brow furrowed in suspicion, but her expression quickly returned to its usual coldness. “Don’t even think about pulling any tricks. I’ve given the staff a vacation, so you won’t be moving into the guest room.” She paused, a cruel smile spreading across her face. “I’m pregnant. I need someone to look after me. From now on, you’re on call, 24/7.” She said it so matter-of-factly, as if savoring some twisted new game, waiting to see me break. I opened my mouth, but in the end, all I could manage was a slight nod. The game seemingly bored her already. She glanced at my leg and called for the family doctor. When he saw the state of my leg, his face went pale. Without treatment, the wound had begun to rot. The men Clarissa had sent hadn’t just broken it; they’d tortured me, driving nails through the bone just for the fun of it. The doctor’s expression was grave. “Mr. Hayes, this injury needs immediate hospital attention. If it’s as bad as it looks, it may require amputation.” My fist clenched at my side, knuckles white. Clarissa, however, just scoffed. “He’s a grown man. A little scratch and you’re talking about amputation? At that rate, no one would survive.” She let out a derisive laugh and turned back to her room. “Don’t think this will make me pity you,” she called over her shoulder. “Even if you died, I would never forgive you.” 2 The bedroom door wasn’t fully closed. Caleb was in there with her. Soon, the sounds of their laughter, followed by the soft, wet sounds of kisses, drifted into the hall. The pity in the doctor’s eyes was a physical blow, sending a chill through my entire body. I forced myself to stand, trying to block out the noises, but they only seemed to grow louder, echoing in my head. I didn’t snap out of it until Mrs. Sterling arrived. She took one look at my leg, and her face darkened into a thundercloud. Her gaze shot to the half-open bedroom door, and she moved as if to storm in and confront Clarissa. I reached out and stopped her. “Mrs. Sterling,” I said, my voice raspy. “The pact we made three years ago. I concede.” “You were right. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t win her over.” “Once the contract is terminated, I’ll leave. I will never come back.” Mrs. Sterling, a woman I had only ever known as formidable and unyielding, looked at me with an uncharacteristic flicker of sympathy. Her voice softened. “Are you sure, Christopher? The five years aren’t up yet. If you give up now, you’ll have absolutely nothing.” “Think about it,” she urged. “I’ll give you a week. Come see me then to sign the termination papers.” I said nothing. She was right. To marry Clarissa, I had swallowed every last ounce of my pride. I had begged, pleaded, and in the end, I had signed over my entire inheritance—everything my parents had left me—to the Sterling family. Just then, Clarissa must have realized someone was there. She and Caleb emerged, their clothes hastily straightened. Her face went rigid when she saw her mother. “Mom? What are you doing here?” Caleb stood beside her, a picture of obedience. “Hello, Mom,” he chirped. Mrs. Sterling let out a cold laugh, her eyes fixed on her daughter. “And where do you keep Christopher? He grew up with you, Clarissa. Have you forgotten everything his parents did for us? Do you have no respect for their memory?” Clarissa’s pale face flushed a deep, angry red. She shot me a look of pure hatred. “Mom, he called you, didn’t he? I knew he was up to something!” She turned on me. “Christopher, I can’t believe how shameless you are. You were the one who begged to marry me. I never once said I loved you. You’re the one who trapped me, who destroyed my freedom!” She defiantly grabbed Caleb’s hand, lifting her chin. “I’m pregnant, and that’s a fact. If you want to stay in my life, you’d better get used to playing the part of the cuckolded husband!” The insolence in her voice made Mrs. Sterling tremble with rage. She raised her hand and slapped Clarissa hard across the face. “One day,” she seethed, “you will regret this.” It was the first time in all these years she had ever taken my side. Before, she only had eyes for the business empire my parents had built, never caring about the war between Clarissa and me. Caleb rushed to Clarissa’s side, his face a mask of concern. “Ma’am, I know you look down on me now, but one day you’ll see how much I truly love Clarissa!” Mrs. Sterling laughed, a sharp, mocking sound. “Your love? Can it compare to what Christopher gave up? All you do is spend our family’s money!” Humiliated, Caleb lowered his head. After her mother left, Clarissa unleashed all her pent-up fury on me. “Don’t think for a second that just because my mother is on your side, you’ve won. I will never, ever look at you again. Get that through your head!” She grabbed Caleb’s arm. “Let’s go, Caleb. The air in here makes me sick.” As she stormed past, she deliberately slammed her shoulder into mine. I watched her go, and for a moment, the girl I remembered from our childhood grew hazy, almost disappearing completely. We’d known each other for over twenty years. The girl who used to follow me everywhere was gone. Now, whenever I closed my eyes, all I could see was the scene from three years ago. Me, on my knees, begging her mother to let me marry her. And Clarissa, bursting into my house late that night after she found out, her voice raw with grief and rage as she screamed at me, asking why. 3 “Your parents aren’t even in the ground yet, and you’re already thinking about marrying me? How can you be so vile, so depraved?” “I have a boyfriend, Christopher! Why are you and my mother deciding my future for me? What gives you the right?” It was the first time I truly understood how little I meant to her. How despicable I was in her eyes. The very next day, Clarissa’s boyfriend broke up with her and vanished without a trace. She blamed me for all of it. She walked through our wedding ceremony like a ghost, her heart filled with nothing but resentment. And it was then that her mother took me aside. “Christopher,” she’d said, her tone all business. “We have our agreement, but you and Clarissa cannot be legally married.” “She’s right about one thing. As you are now, you are not worthy of her.” After my parents died, I had no power, no status. I was nothing compared to the soaring fortunes of the Sterling family. I let out a long, slow breath. Maybe my decision was wrong from the very beginning. After that day, Clarissa stopped coming home. Caleb, however, made his presence felt, sending me messages designed to torment me. [Mr. Hayes, this is my first time being a father. I was hoping I could ask you for some advice.] [You’re so much older than me. You must have more experience with these things, right?] The constant, smug provocations grated on my last nerve. I couldn’t sleep with her, couldn’t even touch her. For three years, we slept in the same bed with a wooden plank between us. If I accidentally brushed against her, she’d act so disgusted she’d nearly vomit, scrubbing herself raw in the shower as if to flay my touch from her skin. The incessant buzzing of my phone finally broke me. I picked it up and called him. “Is your phone just for show, or did you forget how to use it to look up information? Did Clarissa not tell you we’ve never been intimate? Or are you just texting me to gloat? Because if you are, you’ve got the wrong guy. Clarissa and I are finished. I sincerely wish you both the best—” It wasn’t Caleb’s voice that answered, but Clarissa’s, sharp and full of derision. “Christopher, do you really think I’d fall for your pathetic act again? The moment I’m out the door, you call my mother to come and fight your battles.” “I’m so glad I had your leg broken,” she spat. “God knows what you would have done to Caleb otherwise.” She hung up, the dial tone buzzing in my ear. My hand, clutching the phone, tightened until my knuckles were white, then fell open, limp and powerless. When I made that pact with her mother three years ago, I should have known I would lose. I just never imagined I would lose this badly. I had planned to just wait quietly until it was time for me to leave. But the next day, Clarissa and Caleb stormed back into the house. Her eyes were bloodshot and her clothes were disheveled, as if she’d been in a fight. Her gaze, when it landed on me, was filled with a murderous rage. Before I could react, Caleb threw himself to his knees in front of me. “Mr. Hayes, I know you’re angry with me. If my messages upset you, I apologize. I was wrong.” “But you can’t convince Mrs. Sterling to make Clarissa get an abortion! That baby is a miracle for us. We’ve wanted it for so long.” My head swam. I opened my mouth to defend myself, to say I’d done no such thing. The next second, a searing pain exploded across my cheek. Clarissa slapped me again and again, so hard her own palm was red and trembling by her side. She snatched a pair of scissors from the table and pointed them at me, her voice a hysterical shriek. “You make me sick, Christopher! You disgust me!” “Three years ago, you forced me to marry you against my will! And now you want to kill my child? What kind of poison have you been feeding my mother?” I touched my burning cheek, my lips moving, but the words wouldn’t come. “I didn’t…” 4 Clarissa wasn’t listening. She had lost all reason. She lunged, plunging the scissors deep into my shoulder. Blood bloomed across my shirt, staining her hands crimson. She seemed to freeze, shocked that I hadn’t moved, hadn’t even tried to defend myself. When sanity finally returned to her eyes, the scissors slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor. She stumbled back a step, and Caleb quickly steadied her. Wiping tears from her face, she stared at me, her voice breaking. “Christopher, just stop loving me, please. Let me go.” “I’m going to show you,” she whispered, her voice gaining a feverish strength. “I’m going to show you how happy Caleb and I can be.” She left, leaning on him for support. All the physical pain vanished, eclipsed by the agony of her words. They were like the scissors, twisting deeper and deeper with every beat of my heart. The “happiness” Clarissa spoke of was a multi-million-dollar campaign to launch Caleb into the public eye. She bought reporters and media outlets, plastering their perfect love story across every screen and billboard in the city. She paraded him around like a prized possession she had kept hidden for too long. She threw a lavish party at the house, introducing Caleb to all her major business partners and investors. These were things she had never, not once, done for me. Through it all, I remained calm, simply counting down the days. The week Mrs. Sterling had given me was up today. After this, Clarissa and I would likely never see each other again. “You’ve got some nerve, Christopher,” Clarissa’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You know this party is for Caleb, yet you’re still shamelessly hanging around.” She strode toward me, Caleb and a few of her friends trailing behind her like a royal court. A wave of mocking laughter erupted. “Clarissa, honey, when you have a leech that just won’t let go, sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind and just rip it off.” “What is he now, anyway? The third wheel?” “You know, the Hayes family used to be one of the biggest names in this city. Such a shame what happened. All of them gone, except for him. No wonder he’s so desperate to cling to you.” The words seemed to grate on Clarissa. She shot me a look of pure loathing, as if my very presence was a stain on her reputation. She ordered her security to throw all of my belongings out onto the lawn. Then, in front of everyone, she made her grand proclamation. “Three years ago, Christopher Hayes, a man with no shame and no dignity, begged me to be with him. He tore me away from the love of my life, and now he’s trying to kill my child.” “From this day forward, I, Clarissa Sterling, have nothing to do with Christopher Hayes. The Sterling family and the Hayes family are finished!” Her powerful voice hammered into me, and for a moment, my thoughts seized. I leaned against the wall for support, the hand behind my back trembling uncontrollably. Compared to the dazzling star she was now, I truly was nothing. I wasn’t worthy of her. Seeing my silence, Clarissa’s expression softened as she turned and took Caleb’s hand. “I’ve decided Caleb and I are getting married, a real wedding this time, in twenty-two different countries—”

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For thirty years, I’d given my life to Gordon Ogleby. Thirty years of tireless devotion, catering to his parents, raising our son. After I dropped our grandson off for his first day of preschool, I thought I could finally breathe, finally enjoy the quiet autumn of my life. Instead, I was diagnosed with severe kidney disease. The silver lining was that Gordon was a renowned nephrologist. He insisted on performing the surgery himself. As the anesthesia wore off, I drifted in a fog, catching snippets of a conversation between Gordon and our son, Leo. “Dad, are you sure about this? Lying to Mom about being sick, taking her kidney for Aunt Rose… you really think she won’t find out?” “She trusts us completely,” Gordon’s voice was a blade of ice. “She’ll never suspect a thing.” He paused. “If it wasn’t for giving Rose that scholarship abroad, I never would have married her in the first place. She’s had a comfortable life because of me. It’s the least she can do.” A pain sharper than any scalpel sliced through me. But it was Leo’s next words that plunged me into the abyss. “Because of her, I’ve had to call my own mother ‘Aunt’ my whole life. Consider this kidney a long-overdue payment for the ‘favor’ of raising her son.” So that was it. My life’s work, my greatest love, was a lie. The boy I had raised was the son of my husband and my own half-sister, Rose. Fine. I’ll leave. You can have your perfect family reunion. When I finally forced my eyes fully open, Gordon was sitting in the chair by my bed, a mask of concern on his face. “Evelyn, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” His eyes, no longer the bright stars of his youth, were framed by a web of fine lines. I had always taken such meticulous care of him, so even in his fifties, he looked younger, distinguished. When I didn’t answer, he reached out to stroke my graying hair. “The anesthesia is still wearing off. It’s normal to feel a bit dizzy.” His voice was a soft, practiced murmur. “The surgery?” I rasped, my throat feeling like it was lined with sandpaper. “A complete success. Don’t you worry. You’ll heal up in no time, be back to chasing Toby around the park before you know it.” He dipped a cotton swab in water and gently moistened my lips. Just then, a young nurse bustled in. “You’re so lucky, Mrs. Ogleby. Dr. Ogleby is just so devoted to you.” Lucky. Yes, in their eyes, I was the luckiest woman alive. For a fleeting moment, I wished I hadn’t heard them. I wished I could sink back into the warm, comfortable lie of a loving husband and a devoted son, to continue serving the Ogleby family until my last breath. Leo came in later and noticed the dampness at the corners of my eyes. “Mom, you’re crying again? You get more sensitive the older you get. It was a minor procedure, and Dad himself did it. Do you know how many patients would kill for that kind of privilege?” Leo was right. No one had my kind of privilege. To be cut open by the man you’ve loved for three decades, to have an organ harvested from your body and delivered to his mistress. And the cruelest joke of all? That mistress was my own sister. I squeezed my eyes shut, feigning sleep. I couldn’t bear to look at Leo, the boy I’d raised for over twenty years. His eyes… they were identical to Rose’s. And if he was truly their child… then maybe the story they told me, about my “congenital uterine abnormality,” was just another part of the grand deception. My hands clenched the bedsheets, my knuckles white, a silent scream of fury tearing through me. Leo called my name a few more times, his voice soft at my ear, but I remained perfectly still. “Don’t bother,” Gordon said suddenly, his voice low. “I had the anesthesiologist up her dose. And I added a sedative to her IV drip. She’ll be in and out for the next day or two.” He lowered his voice even more. “What are you doing here? Rose can’t be left alone.” “Aunt Rose is awake,” Leo replied. “She sent me to find you. She said… she’s scared when you’re not there.” Gordon let out a soft sigh. “She’s still the same timid girl she always was. Come on. You and I will go be with her. With her son and me by her side, she’ll finally be able to rest easy.” They left without a backward glance. I opened my eyes, and the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free, a silent, scalding flood. Rose. She had always been my nightmare. I thought marrying Gordon, escaping my father’s house, had been my escape from her shadow. How naive I was. It was never an escape, only a deeper cage. On the fourth day after my surgery, the ever-busy Gordon reappeared. He picked up an apple and began to peel it for me, his movements clumsy and awkward. For thirty years, I had been the one to peel and slice his apples, arranging them on a plate for him. The man who could wield a scalpel with surgical precision couldn’t peel a simple apple. “Evelyn,” he began, “I wanted to talk to you. You’re able to walk a little now. How about we get you discharged?” My incision still felt like it was being ripped open with every breath. I had only managed to shuffle two steps this morning. Seeing the color drain from my face, he added quickly, “It’s just that with you in the hospital, I’m constantly worried. I can’t focus on my work. You know a moment’s distraction in the operating room can cost a life.” I had been pressing the call button myself when my IV ran dry. I’d had to beg passing nurses for a sip of water. I’d hauled myself to the bathroom alone, one hand pressed to my side, the other gripping the wall for support. And still, I was an inconvenience. “I… I’d like to stay one more day,” I whispered, my head bowed. “The wound hurts.” “Pain is normal. I’m a doctor, Evelyn. I can change your dressing at home. Go on, pack your things. I’ll have Leo come pick you up.” Thirty years. You’d think he’d have more affection for a dog. But for me, there wasn’t even a shred of pity. I knew the real reason. He was afraid I’d be mobile enough to wander the halls and run into Rose. “Fine,” I said. Hearing my agreement, Gordon gave a curt nod and left the room, leaving me to pack. I didn’t move. There was nothing to pack. Hunched over, fighting waves of pain, I shuffled out of my room and down the long corridor. I stopped outside a private suite at the far end of the hall. If it weren’t for the small glass pane on the door, you’d never know it was a hospital room. The interior was decorated like a cozy bedroom. A vase of fresh lilies sat on the table next to a bowl of fruit, the cherries washed and still glistening with water. The bed was made with a set of my own brand-new sheets—a beautiful, expensive floral print I’d been saving for a special occasion. And sitting on the edge of that bed, spoon-feeding soup to the woman lying there, was my husband. “Just one more sip of this chicken broth,” Gordon murmured, his voice full of a tenderness I hadn’t heard in years. “Leo drove all the way to a farm upstate to pick out this organic chicken himself. He simmered it for four hours.” The woman, Rose, was only a year younger than me, but her skin was smooth and fair. Her chestnut hair, styled in soft waves, was tied back loosely, giving her an air of lazy, expensive elegance. “I really can’t drink another drop,” she purred, her voice girlish despite her age. “Why don’t you take it to Evelyn?” “Her?” Gordon scoffed. “She’s not worthy of this. I’d rather pour it down the drain than give her a drop.” My eyes stung, but after days of non-stop crying, they were too dry to produce any more tears. “I’m so glad you and Leo are here with me,” Rose said, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I would have done.” “The moment I knew your kidney was failing,” Gordon confessed, “I had Evelyn’s blood tested for a match. Being sisters, I knew the chances were good. I was so relieved when it came back positive.” A month ago. Gordon had surprised me with a voucher for a full health check-up. He’d said I’d worked so hard for so many years, and it was time to check on my health so I could relax and enjoy life. I had been so moved. It was all a lie, just a prelude to testing me as a donor for Rose. “As long as you’re safe, I’d cut out Evelyn’s other kidney myself if I had to.” A chill washed over me, so profound it felt like death itself. Thirty years of marriage, and he would kill me for another woman. Leo drove me home, grumbling the whole way about how it was bad luck for a discharged patient to be in his new car. This was the son I had raised. The son whose new car I had helped pay for, contributing ten thousand dollars I’d earned from selling a massive, intricate cross-stitch piece I’d spent three years creating. It was supposed to be my nest egg, a little something for myself so I wouldn’t have to ask Gordon for every single penny in my old age. But Leo had whined that the BMW we’d bought him for his wedding wasn’t flashy enough. He’d just started his job and was short on cash. Gordon had given him fifty thousand, but Leo had come to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders in a wheedling hug. “Mom, I know you don’t have a job, but Dad’s given you plenty of money over the years. Can’t you just help me out a little?” Gordon was never stingy, but he was calculating. On holidays and anniversaries, he’d buy me gold, but he’d deposit it directly into a safe-deposit box in his name. It never even passed through my hands. But Leo… I had raised him. Looking into his pleading eyes, I’d gritted my teeth and handed over my secret savings. I still remember the fury on Gordon’s face when he found out. “Evelyn, so this is what you do? You hoard the household money I give you? After all these years, you’re playing games with me?” Even when I showed him the receipt from the buyer, he remained cold and distant, packing a suitcase and moving into his on-call room at the hospital for a week. I remember going there to try and coax him home, only to be told by a colleague that Dr. Ogleby had taken a leave of absence. He later claimed he’d been stressed and flew abroad to clear his head, and that it was none of my business how he spent his own money. He must have gone to see Rose. All those “business trips,” “medical conferences,” and “vacations to unwind”… he’d been visiting her every year. And I, the clueless fool, had stayed at home, carefully packing his suitcases, reminding him to take care of himself. Back in our house, Leo dropped my hospital bag by the door with a thud. A layer of dust coated the tables. The kitchen trash was buzzing with tiny flies. I glanced towards the kitchen, where a mountain of dirty pots and pans filled the sink. Leo followed my gaze, a flicker of embarrassment on his face. “Got tired of takeout while you were gone. Tried to cook once. You can clean that up in a bit.” So this was the difference. Blood versus water. He could patiently simmer soup for the woman who gave birth to him, but he expected the woman who raised him to clean his mess four days after major surgery. They say the love of a nurturer is greater than that of a birth mother. What a load of crap. There was a time when I would have dragged myself out of bed, even with a raging fever, to scrub this house spotless. Because it was my home, and the people I loved lived here. But now, my body wouldn’t allow it, and my heart was filled with a profound weariness for this tainted space. I went to my bedroom and stood before the mirror. Graying hair, a pale and wrinkled face, a body stooped with pain. I couldn’t believe the old woman staring back at me was me. I thought of Rose, lounging elegantly on my floral sheets, sipping her chicken soup. I was a worn-out, discarded rag. As a child, she stole my father from me. I lost my room, my pretty dresses, my family’s love. Later, she had our father pull strings to get her into my advanced classes, where she stole my favorite teachers, my friends, and even my scholarship to study abroad, despite having lower grades. I thought, after she had taken so much, that fate had finally compensated me with Gordon. So when he confessed his feelings for me, I fell into his arms. He was in his early twenties then, whispering in my ear, “Gordon belongs only to Evelyn.” I was so starved for love. I fell for his sweet lies, and when the study abroad offer was officially mine, Rose reported me to the university for being pregnant out of wedlock. In the ensuing scandal, only Gordon stood by me. He ignored the whispers and the shame, ignored that I was expelled, and asked me to be his wife. But a month after our wedding, I miscarried. The doctor—a senior colleague of Gordon’s—told me I had a “congenital uterine abnormality” and couldn’t have children. During the D&C, they didn’t just take my baby; they took my womb. I was so grateful that Gordon didn’t abandon me. To fulfill my dream of being a mother, he brought home a baby boy, telling me an unwed mother had abandoned him at the hospital. I was so captivated by the baby’s cherubic face that I never questioned the holes in his story. I pulled a chair in front of the mirror and just sat there. For the rest of the day. Gordon, who promised he’d come home to change my dressing, never showed up. Leo, who said he’d order me dinner, never called. I asked the old woman in the mirror, “What are you still waiting for?” “What do you have left, besides a broken body?” But when a person reaches my age with nothing left to lose, what is there left to fear? Once I understood that, a sense of calm settled over me. I had lived the first fifty years of my life in a suffocating cage. I would live the next twenty for myself. The next morning, after a proper breakfast to build up my strength, I went to the hospital. I ran into Gordon in the hallway. He was carrying a pink thermos, which he quickly tried to hide behind his back when he saw me. “I came to get my dressing changed,” I said, my voice even. “I have a full surgery schedule these next two days. You didn’t have to come all this way. I’ll take care of it when I get home tonight.” “Your patients are more important,” I said, glancing in the direction he’d come from. “I already had a nurse on duty do it.” I paused. “Also, I have something to tell you. The management company needs the homeowner’s signature to update our parking spot registration. You should go home sometime in the next couple of days to sign it.” His expression shifted. Just as I’d guessed, he couldn’t bear to leave Rose alone in the hospital. “Or,” I added, “you could just give me your ID, and I’ll go to the property office and handle it.” He didn’t hesitate. Without a single thought for my physical condition, he breathed a sigh of relief and immediately went to his office to get his ID for me. Gordon had lived with me for a lifetime, but he’d forgotten that I was once a university student. I may not have a degree, but I was not uneducated. After we married, I was first sidelined by my recovery, then by a wailing infant, Leo. Just as I got Leo into elementary school, Gordon’s mother had a stroke and became paralyzed. I spent the next decade of my life cleaning her, turning her, changing her diapers. I had been transformed from a bright young woman into a tired, withered housewife. But I hadn’t lost touch with the world. I knew that with his ID and our marriage certificate, I could get a copy of his bank statements. I could go to the county records office and look up all the properties listed under his name. If we were going to divorce, I would get my salary back for all the years I’d served as his family’s maid, and compensation for the kidney he’d stolen. But there was no rush. The most important thing now was to heal my body. I learned to order food online, whatever I craved, whenever I wanted. I learned to book a cleaning service, no longer needing to lift a finger to keep the house tidy. I picked up my embroidery again, settling into the rocking chair on the sun porch to stitch. The day my wound was finally declared fully healed, I went for one last check-up.

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