1 I was at a Christie’s auction with a friend when I saw him: Harrison Blackwood. My husband. The golden boy of New York’s elite, the man who supposedly adored me, bidding an obscene amount of money on a diamond necklace I’d been coveting for ages. The next day, that very necklace was sparkling around the neck of his impossibly pretty new intern. I didn’t cry. I didn’t throw a fit. I simply called a contact at Cartier and commissioned two hundred identical pieces, sending them directly to the freshman dorms at Columbia University. If he was going to be so generous, I’d help him seal the deal. Make him a campus legend. Then I had my lawyer draft our divorce papers and had them couriered to his office. That was the day every single girl in Columbia’s North Tower received a gift from the wife of the Apex Innovations CEO. Every girl, that is, except for Lila Jones. … The party was in full swing when Harrison made his entrance with Lila on his arm. The young, beautiful girl clung to him, her smile a dazzling, triumphant thing. The circle of people around me instantly dissolved, their faces a mixture of pity and awkwardness. I honestly hadn’t thought he’d have the nerve to parade her around in public. Our marriage was a union of dynasties, the Blackwoods and the Sinclairs, two of the most powerful families in the city. I thought, at the very least, he owed me a sliver of respect. I was wrong. “What’s with all the long faces?” I said, my voice gliding through the sudden silence as I moved to his side. “Don’t tell me you’re all captivated by Harrison’s new executive assistant.” I offered the excuse on a silver platter. The tension broke as people nodded, a wave of relieved understanding passing through the crowd. Harrison, acting as if nothing was amiss, stepped toward me. “Maddie,” he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble. Lila, not missing a beat, chirped, “It’s so nice to see you again, Madeline.” I fought the urge to gag and offered them both a serene smile. We’re all adults here. In this world, you learn to wear a mask, or you drown. You smile when you’re seething. You feign affection for those you despise. And you certainly don’t cause a scene with a man like Harrison Blackwood. It benefits no one. But when my eyes landed on the necklace—the one from the auction—a chilling cold seeped into my bones, extinguishing the last flicker of hope. Just ten minutes earlier, I’d watched from across the room as Harrison gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind Lila’s ear, his fingers lingering before he adjusted the strap of her dress that had slipped from her shoulder. Yesterday, when I saw him leaving the auction house, my heart had fluttered with a sweet, foolish anticipation. I was so sure it was for me. I spent the morning at the salon, getting the perfect hairstyle to complement it, and had my makeup artist craft a look of understated elegance. But the hours ticked by, and no little blue box appeared. I finally caved and called him, trying to sound casual as I fished for a hint about a gift. His answer was a simple “no.” But I heard her in the background. A saccharine, girlish voice. “Mr. Blackwood, do you think your wife will be upset?” “No,” he’d replied, his voice smooth as silk. “Maddie’s always been graceful and understanding. She won’t mind.” In that moment, the final illusion shattered. My grace, my understanding—he saw them as a permission slip. Harrison Blackwood, I realized, was far from the man I thought he was. But he was right about one thing. I was graceful. And I refused to lower myself by fighting with some cloying, manipulative girl. Lila shadowed him, her smile aimed at me, but her eyes blazed with a pride and defiance she could barely contain. A college kid, so transparent in her foolishness. She actually thought she meant something to him. I let a cold smile touch my lips. “That’s a lovely necklace,” I said slowly, my gaze fixed on her throat. “Was it a gift?” Lila wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what I was asking. 2 A college intern on a stipend couldn’t afford a piece like that. Her eyes widened in feigned surprise before she darted a panicked, doe-eyed glance at Harrison. As expected, he stepped in to defend her. “Maddie, don’t misunderstand. Lila had a rough week at the office, some of the senior staff were giving her a hard time. As her boss, I just bought her a little something to cheer her up. That’s all it is.” I raised my champagne flute to him in a silent toast of “understanding,” then turned away and made a quick call to my assistant. A few moments later, Harrison’s phone buzzed, and he stepped aside to take the call. It was perfect timing. An acquaintance, one of the society wives with a tongue for gossip, drifted over. “Madeline, darling,” she began, her eyes flicking to Lila, “who is that… new friend of Harrison’s?” The question was dripping with insinuation. The whole room had seen how he hovered over the girl, a knight in a bespoke suit. I decided to forgo the pretense. “Oh, her?” I said, my voice clear and carrying. “Just the latest intern with a pipe dream of sleeping her way to the top, I suppose. The other woman, you could say.” The color drained from Lila’s face, leaving her looking pale and stricken. Her pretty eyes welled up with tears, a portrait of wounded innocence. A perfect little victim. No wonder Harrison was so taken with her. The society wife, not expecting such brutal honesty, mumbled an excuse and beat a hasty retreat. I crossed my arms, a smirk playing on my lips as I studied Lila. “Miss Jones, isn’t it? At your age, you really should be focusing on building a real career, not clinging to fantasies. It’s a long, lonely fall when men like him get bored. You risk losing a lot more than just your dignity.” She knew I was dressing her down in public. Her lips trembled, but no words came out. I laughed internally. They were so used to my composed, elegant facade that they’d mistaken me for a wilting flower, easily trampled. “Madeline, I…” “Don’t,” I cut her off with a raised hand. “My mother only had one child, so I have no sister. And this isn’t the Victorian era. The term ‘mistress’ isn’t exactly a title to aspire to.” The tears finally spilled, tracing clean paths down her cheeks. Just as I was about to twist the knife a little deeper, Harrison returned, his face a thundercloud. He stopped directly in front of me. “The necklaces. You ordered them?” My assistant was fast. I didn’t deny it. “I did.” “Why would you do that? You don’t even wear that style.” I leaned back against a marble column, my smile mocking him. “To help you out, of course. College is tough. Those poor girls are probably all stressed out from their internships. I thought I’d do you a favor and buy them all a little something to lift their spirits.” For the first time all night, a crack appeared in Harrison’s iron-clad composure. It was gone in an instant, but I saw it. He was a master of hiding his true feelings. He slid an arm around my waist, his touch a possessive brand, and pulled me close. He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. “It’s just a necklace, Maddie,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl. “If you wanted one, I would have bought you a dozen. It’s not worth getting worked up over and frightening the new girl. I’d hate to see you upset.” It was the same deep, husky tone he used in the dark of our bedroom, his warm breath on my skin. But this wasn’t seduction. This was damage control. This was him trying to shield Lila from the consequences. I played along, my hand tracing a slow path up his back, pulling him even closer. I matched his hushed tone. “You know exactly what she’s trying to do, Harrison, and so do I. This was never about the necklace. I don’t care what you do on your own time, but don’t you dare forget that I am Mrs. Blackwood. If this becomes a public spectacle, it will burn us both.” My voice dropped to a whisper, sharp and venomous. “This is the first and last time.” From a distance, we must have looked like a couple sharing an intimate secret. The crowd around us, misreading the situation entirely, let out a few good-natured whoops and catcalls. I felt his body go rigid beneath my hand. With a final, patronizing pat on his back, I smiled, stepped away, and plucked a fresh glass of champagne from a passing tray. 3 The gala wound down, the glittering guests melting away into the New York night. I thought I had made myself perfectly clear. I thought the disgust in my eyes was unmistakable. Apparently, I had vastly underestimated the thickness of some people’s skin. Because when we went to leave, Lila tried to get into our car. “Lila’s dorm is a long way from here,” Harrison said, his tone clipped. “She’ll have a hard time getting a cab this late. It’s on the way, we’ll just give her a lift.” A blatant lie. I called him on it without hesitation. “She lives in a dorm at Columbia, we’re going to our penthouse on the Upper East Side. Since when is Morningside Heights ‘on the way’?” Harrison’s brow furrowed. Lila looked at me, her eyes shimmering with fresh tears, as if I were the villain in this twisted little drama. Seeing I wouldn’t budge, Harrison switched tactics, playing the emotion card. “Maddie, you’ve always been so reasonable…” “And what if I don’t want to be?” I snapped, cutting him off. Lila, her lower lip trembling, stepped towards me. “Madeline, I shouldn’t have accepted the necklace. I’m sorry, what happened tonight was my fault. But I really can’t get a ride…” She held out a beautifully wrapped perfume box. A gift from him, no doubt. “I’ll trade you. It’s my favorite perfume.” I wrinkled my nose in disdain. “What scent is that? It smells of cloying desperation.” The repeated humiliations finally broke through her act. A furious blush crept up her neck, and she stood there, clutching the box, tears held captive in her eyes. Harrison, who had been playing the part of the patient gentleman all night, finally lost his composure. “Madeline,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “that’s enough.” I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “Is it? Is this ‘enough’?” “Harrison, don’t forget whose party this was,” I continued, my voice turning to ice. “My father pulled the strings that made your little deal happen tonight. Without him, you’d be walking away with nothing.” Without waiting for his response, I pushed past the tearful Lila and slid into the back of the town car. He was a businessman, first and foremost. He knew how to weigh his options. He knew exactly what my words implied. He might be the golden boy, but I was a Sinclair. I was born with a silver spoon, yes, but it was sharpened to a knife’s edge. In our world, sentiment rarely outweighed profit. A moment later, he got in the car beside me. The drive was suffocatingly silent. I wouldn’t stoop to fighting over a man with a college girl, but my position in this city mattered. The headline “Harrison Blackwood Abandons Wife on Park Avenue for Intern” wasn’t one I was willing to tolerate. My fury, which had been simmering, began to boil when I noticed the front passenger seat. It had been adjusted. Moved forward, reclined slightly. I knew in an instant who had been sitting there. And then I saw it. Stuck to the dashboard, a small, pink sticky note with childish handwriting: “Angel’s Seat.” A white-hot rage surged through me. I wanted to kick him out of the moving car, then go back and slap that angelic look right off Lila’s face. Just as I was about to erupt, his phone rang. The sound of Lila’s pathetic sobbing filled the silent car. “Harrison… sob… I can’t get a cab… and I think someone is following me… I’m so scared, can you please… can you please come back for me?” Without a single moment of hesitation, Harrison slammed on the brakes, screeching the car to a halt at the side of the road. “Okay, don’t panic,” he said into the phone, his voice all reassuring calm. “Stay right where you are. Don’t move. I’m coming to get you.” My hand, which had been reaching to adjust my own seat, froze mid-air. I turned to him, my expression one of pure disbelief. Harrison’s face was a mask of grim concern. “Maddie, you take the car home. Lila could be in real danger. I have to go back.” I laughed. It was a raw, incredulous sound. “This is Midtown Manhattan, Harrison. We’re surrounded by thousands of people. There are three police precincts between here and Columbia. What ‘danger’ could she possibly be in?” My voice dripped with scorn. “What are you, her father? If she’s in danger, she should call 911, not you!” 4 He was speechless, cornered by my logic. He closed his eyes for a long moment, took a deep, shuddering breath, then opened them again. “Maddie, she’s just a girl. Can’t you have a little empathy?” He looked at me, a note of pleading in his voice. “Is this really all because of a necklace? Are you going to hold this against me forever?” “Are you blind, Harrison?” I shot back, my voice rising. “Can’t you see she’s provoking me? And you’re going to leave me, your wife, stranded on the side of the road for her?” The look in his eyes shifted, cycling rapidly from anger to coldness, and finally, settling on a profound disappointment. “Madeline,” he said, his voice flat. “When did you become so unreasonable? So… hysterical? This isn’t the woman I married.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I was being unreasonable? “Let me get this straight, Harrison. This is the first time you have ever raised your voice to me. And it’s for another woman.” He turned his head abruptly, staring out the window, a clear signal that the conversation was over. “Did you forget our agreement?” I pressed on, my voice low and dangerous. “The one we made before we signed the marriage certificate? Mutual respect. No affairs. No scandals. It wasn’t just for us; it was for the Sinclair and Blackwood empires. Are you really willing to burn all of that down for her?” The only sound in the car was his heavy, strained breathing. I knew he was wavering. In this round of our silent, ugly war, I had won. For now. That night, Harrison and I slept in separate rooms. His excuse was that I was being “too aggressive,” that he felt “suffocated” and needed space. He said we both needed to calm down. Fine. It gave me the space I needed to think. To re-evaluate our entire relationship. Lying in the king-sized bed alone, the day’s events played on a loop in my mind. The first time Harrison had ever publicly humiliated me for another woman. The Blackwoods and the Sinclairs had been allies for generations, but Harrison and I had barely known each other growing up. I’d heard stories, of course, whispers of the eldest Blackwood son—a brilliant, ruthless playboy coasting on his family name. But at our engagement party three years ago, I had been undeniably drawn to him. Beneath the handsome, confident exterior was a surprisingly sharp wit and an effortless charm. When our parents proposed the merger—our marriage—I agreed. With our backgrounds, our education, our shared ambition, we admired each other. The engagement was swift. I never considered love or affection; I was raised in a world of assets and liabilities, and the first lesson I ever learned was how to weigh them. Our marriage was the ultimate strategic alliance, merging our family companies and catapulting our careers into the stratosphere. I had always believed that for Harrison and me, we were simply the best possible choice for one another—a perfectly balanced equation. But somewhere along the way, I think he started to fall in love with me. The untouchable prince of New York’s elite would hold me in the dead of night, burying his face in my shoulder and murmuring nonsense like a little boy. On frigid winter nights, he’d tuck my icy feet into the warmth of his robe. When I had cramps, he’d bring me a hot water bottle and a cup of tea. He’d tilt the umbrella entirely over my head in the rain, not caring that his own shoulder was getting soaked. Not long ago, he’d whispered to me, “Maddie, you will always be my first choice.” But then Lila appeared, and everything changed. After years of navigating the cutthroat world of high society and corporate warfare, for the first time in my life, I felt a bone-deep exhaustion. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Harrison. “Goodnight, Maddie.” It was followed by a cute animated sticker of a cat patting another cat’s head. 5 That was Harrison. Ever the master of appearances. Even in the midst of a cold war, he would perform the necessary rituals, go through the motions. The wine from dinner had left me with a dull headache. I went to the kitchen to make myself a glass of warm milk and saw it. My favorite ceramic mug had a hairline crack running down its side. I called the housekeeper. “Who used this mug?” I asked, my voice tight. She looked terrified. “No one, Mrs. Blackwood, I swear. You told us never to touch it, that you would wash it yourself. We never do.” She was right. I had given that order. The mug was a birthday gift from last year. Harrison had commissioned it from a famed German ceramicist I admired, taking a detour on a business trip just to pick it up. I treasured it. And now it was flawed. “Should I… should I see if it can be repaired?” the housekeeper asked timidly. “No,” I said, my voice flat. “It’s precisely because it was so precious that even the smallest crack is irreparable.” A few minutes later, my head of security sent a video file to my phone. The footage was from the kitchen security camera, timestamped yesterday afternoon. It showed Lila picking up my mug. She looked around, a malicious little smirk on her face, and then deliberately let it slip from her grasp, dropping it into the hard, stainless-steel sink. He had actually brought her into our home. The necklace had angered me, a beautiful thing wasted on someone so cheap. It was a matter of aesthetics. But this? Sneaking into my home, my sanctuary, and intentionally destroying something I cherished? This was a declaration of war. This was a direct, personal violation. A wave of pure, unadulterated fury washed over me, burning away every last scrap of restraint. With a sweep of my arm, I sent the beautiful, flawed mug crashing to the floor, where it shattered into a hundred pieces. And in that moment, so did my marriage.

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I got into a fight with my husband and checked into a hotel. I didn’t expect to wake up the next morning and be infamous. A video had gone viral overnight. In it, my face is flushed, my eyes glazed, as I dance wildly with eight different men in a hotel room. Samson, my husband, was incandescent with rage. He slapped me so hard my head snapped to the side. “So this is what you meant by ‘cooling off’?” he spat, his voice dripping with disgust. “You’re filthy.” I couldn’t explain the marks on my body. Humiliated and furious, I called the police. They told me the video wasn’t a deepfake. They said they found my DNA, mixed with that of the men from the video, in the trash can. I had no defense. In the eyes of the world, I was a whore. My parents, both respected lifelong teachers, couldn’t endure the onslaught of online harassment and public shame. They took their own lives. And me? I was beaten to death by the furious wives of the men from the video. Even as I died, I couldn’t understand it. I was alone in that hotel room. Nothing happened. How did I wake up to a world where it had? When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I checked into the hotel. 1 “Mia, honey, don’t be angry anymore. I’ve told you a hundred times, I have no idea who she is. The first time she messaged, I thought it was you testing me. I haven’t replied to her since.” Hearing Samson’s familiar words, I realized I’d been reborn. In my past life, I’d found texts on his phone from an unsaved number, messages that just said “Thinking of you,” sent day after day. It led to the biggest fight of our lives. I didn’t buy his excuse that he’d blocked her, but she just kept using new numbers, so he’d given up. It was the first real crisis of trust in our three-year marriage. That night, I’d packed a bag and stormed out, telling him I needed to go to a hotel to think. The next day, the video that destroyed my life went viral. Seeing me standing there now with my suitcase, silent, Samson finally sighed in defeat. “Where do you want to go? I’ll drive you.” His weary resignation sent a chill down my spine. He’d said the exact same thing in my last life when I’d threatened divorce and said I was leaving. Back then, I’d wanted to go to my parents’ house, but he’d talked me out of it, saying it would worry them. That’s why I’d made the last-minute decision to go to a hotel. How could such an impromptu choice have led to such a horrific outcome? I hesitated, then looked at Samson. “I’m going to my parents’ place,” I said. “Just tell them you’re away on a business trip for a while. They won’t suspect a thing.” Samson nodded, taking the suitcase from my hand. “Okay. To be honest, I wouldn’t feel right with you staying anywhere else.” I watched him closely, but his reaction seemed genuine. He drove me to my parents’ house without another word of protest. The more normal he acted, the more confused I became. After he left, I watched my mother in the kitchen, bustling about as she prepared my favorite meal. My eyes burned with tears. They had spent their entire lives as revered public school teachers, only to end them by choice, unable to bear the public scorn and self-blame after my scandal broke. As their only daughter, the shame I brought upon them… How much pain, how much despair must they have felt? My father found me staring into space. “Did you and Samson have a fight?” he asked gently. “You need to work on that temper of yours, Mia. You can’t keep bullying him. He’s a good man, he puts up with a lot from you.” In my parents’ eyes, Samson was the perfect son-in-law. Good to me, and good to them. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and forced a smile. “Not at all. He’s just away for work, so I thought I’d come home and spend some quality time with you two.” Last time, one night in a hotel destroyed my family. This time, I was staying right here. Nothing could possibly go wrong. 2 Even though I was home, I barely slept. The events of my past life replayed in my mind on a relentless loop. I got up at dawn, before my parents were awake, and went for a run to clear my head. When I got back, I had breakfast and went back to my room to try and get some sleep. I was shaken awake from a hazy doze by Samson’s furious voice. “Mia Wallace! So this is what you meant by ‘cooling off’? Eight men in one night? You’re fucking disgusting!” Hearing those exact words a second time, my eyes flew open. “Wh-what are you talking about?” The words came out in a tremor I couldn’t control. All of Samson’s usual gentleness was gone. He slapped me, hard, across the face. “You dare ask me what I’m talking about? See for yourself! The video is all over the internet. I can’t even show my face in public!” It was just like before. A single video, and he condemned me without giving me a chance to speak, nailing me to a cross of public shame. He threw my phone at me. I saw the same video as last time, and my body went rigid, my hands and feet turning to ice. The comments from strangers dragged me back into the nightmare. “Wonder whose daughter she is? Or whose wife? If she were mine, I’d strangle her.” “What a slut. And those guys aren’t picky. Even a toilet would puke her back out.” “That tongue looks pretty talented. I wouldn’t even let her lick my toilet clean, it’d get the porcelain dirty.” “I heard her parents are teachers. Can’t believe they raised a tramp like this. Who’d let them teach their kids now?” Someone had doxxed me. My home address, my personal information, even the schools where my parents worked. My phone began to blow up with a flood of harassing messages. “Hey, what’s your rate?” “You always seemed so stuck-up. Never knew you were such a freak in private. Wanna hook up?” “Wanna be my ‘lunch break buddy’? Stairwell, copy room… your choice.” “I’ve got ten bucks. And ten friends…” … A wave of nausea washed over me as I read the filth. How could this have happened? I was home all night. I never left. I wanted to get my parents to vouch for me, but they must have gone out grocery shopping. They weren’t home. No matter how much I explained, Samson wouldn’t believe me. With a trembling hand, I called 911 again. The police took us to the hotel to investigate. The result was identical to my past life. The security footage was crystal clear. It showed me checking in alone in the middle of the night. About an hour later, a series of men began arriving at my room. I was the one who opened the door for each of them. With every man, I was either a whirlwind of passion, throwing my arms around their necks, or I was posing seductively in the doorway. There was no sign of coercion. This continued until five in the morning, when the footage showed me checking out, looking exhausted. “The security footage and the video online show no signs of tampering or editing.” Hearing the officer’s words, Samson gripped the edge of a table, his knuckles turning white. He finally lost control, his eyes bloodshot as he roared at me. “Mia, it’s all right there on camera! What could you possibly have to say for yourself? How could you be so cheap? You didn’t just cheat on me, you buried me in a septic tank!” I bowed my head, fighting for control, forcing myself to calm down. I couldn’t panic. Panicking would only lead to more mistakes. Then I saw a small red bump on my hand from a mosquito bite, and I gasped. 3 “Look!” I cried out. “There are no marks on my body! If that was really me in the video, with that many men, it’s impossible for there to be nothing!” I rolled up my sleeves and pant legs, exposing as much of my skin as I could to prove my innocence. In my last life, after I checked into the hotel, my body had been covered in the tell-tale marks of a rough night—scratches, bruises, love bites. They had even found my DNA inside used condoms in the trash. Back then, even I couldn’t be sure of my own innocence; I’d thought maybe I’d been drugged or controlled somehow. This time, I hadn’t gone to the hotel. Even with the video evidence, my body was clean. It was the only proof I had. Samson saw my unmarked skin, and his brow furrowed for a moment. But everyone else just looked at me with smug, knowing smirks. I thought they didn’t believe me and was about to demand a female officer perform a full-body examination when a sneer came from the crowd. “Did the star of the show party too hard and forget? In the video, you specifically told the men not to leave any marks, or you’d sue them.” “Yeah, that was probably your plan to claim innocence all along, right? Too bad someone posted the whole thing online. Hilarious.” “Playing the victim after being the whore. Classic. We can clearly see the tattoo on her ankle and the mole on her arm in the video. They’re exactly the same as the ones she’s showing us now. Guess she didn’t take a good look at her own masterpiece, huh?” Their words were like a bomb going off in my head. I hadn’t looked closely at the video this time; I was just in shock that it existed at all. Why was it different from last time? In the previous life, the “me” in the video had been wild, covered in marks. I looked at Samson in confusion. He just turned his face away in disgust. Even if the video could be faked, the DNA couldn’t. No matter who was trying to frame me, I wasn’t at the hotel last night. There was no way my DNA would be in that trash can. But the officer’s next words plunged me into despair. “Ms. Wallace, our forensics team has already collected and tested the items left in the room. We have confirmed the presence of your DNA mixed with that of several different men.” He paused, his voice grim. “Furthermore, we’ve traced the original upload of the video. It was sent from your phone.” Samson’s breath hitched, and he let out a choked, furious laugh. Every eye in the room was on me. Greed, judgment, shock, ridicule… In that moment, I was right back in my first life, drowning in that same helpless despair. Before I could even process it, a hand shot out and slapped me so hard I fell to the floor. “You’re the bitch who seduced my husband and made this disgusting video? I’m going to kill you today!” The woman lunged at me again, but a police officer grabbed her. “What are you doing? You’re the police! She’s the one who committed this depraved act! You should be arresting her!” she shrieked. “And you,” she spat at me, “don’t get too comfortable. The other wives are on their way. You like playing with men in bed so much? Today, we’ll make sure you can’t get out of it.” 4 I tried desperately to explain. “It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it!” “I was at my parents’ house all night! I never left! My parents can prove it!” But people only believe what they want to believe. My frantic denials just sounded like desperate lies. They even started calling my parents accomplices, accessories to my depravity. A crowd was gathering, drawn by the commotion and the online gossip. “I know her,” a woman chimed in. “I saw her coming home early this morning. She was walking funny, her legs were all shaky on the stairs. I thought to myself, ‘Wow, kids these days are really out of shape.’ Turns out she was just worn out from… other activities.” “Her parents are teachers, can you believe it? Like father, like daughter, I guess. A rotten apple doesn’t fall far from a rotten tree.” I looked up at the speaker. It was Mrs. Davison, one of my mother’s colleagues. They’d always been rivals for a promotion. Of course, she’d be here to kick me while I was down. “No, that’s not it! My legs were sore because I went for a run this morning! I…” “Bullshit, you little whore!” another woman shouted. “First you say you were sleeping at home, now you say you were out for a run. You can’t even keep your lies straight.” “Disgusting. To party that hard and then have the nerve to call the police. I bet she’s got diseases.” “You like showing off, huh? Well today, we’ll let you show everyone what a cheap piece of trash you are, for free.” A group of women surged forward, grabbing at my clothes, hitting and scratching me. The police barely managed to regain control. An officer looked at me, his face cold. “Whatever your motives were, you are now severely disturbing the public order. I suggest you apologize to these families and try to de-escalate the situation.” I finally understood. In the face of what they saw as absolute proof, any attempt to defend myself would only make me look guiltier. But I hadn’t done it. If I apologized now, I’d be sealing my own fate, throwing myself into the abyss. I smoothed my messy hair and spoke with a newfound resolve. “The person in that video is not me. I will not apologize.” “Officer, this has escalated from online harassment to physical assault. If you close this case by assuming I orchestrated all of this, the person who is actually trying to destroy my life will get away with it.” My voice grew stronger. “Have you considered the consequences for me if I apologize? It would be a confession. I would rather die than suffer such an unjust accusation.” The officer studied me for a few seconds, his expression hardening. “We have verified the video and security footage. They are authentic. The DNA results are from an accredited lab. They are not fake.” He leaned in. “If the person in that video isn’t you, then who is it?” That was the question I was asking myself. Who would orchestrate such an elaborate plot just to ruin me? I didn’t understand it in my last life, and I was just as lost now. Flashes of ideas went through my mind, but I couldn’t grasp anything concrete. Seeing my silence, the crowd erupted again. “The evidence is irrefutable and she’s still trying to lie!” “If she’ll do eight men today, she’ll do eighty tomorrow! A hundred! How many families will she destroy?” “Yeah, they should test her for every disease in the book! She’s probably trying to get revenge on society!” “Her poor husband. Marrying such a filthy, unstable woman. He’ll be the town joke for the rest of his life.” The police, unable to control the mob and faced with my refusal to confess, made a decision. An officer took my arm. “You’re coming with us.” This was how it happened before. I was taken away, detained for fifteen days for disturbing the public order and distributing indecent material. By the time I got out, my parents were already dead in their home, their bodies undiscovered for days. Before I could even arrange their funerals, I was found by the enraged families—who had since learned I was “diseased”—and beaten to death. Was I destined to repeat the same fate? I refused to accept it. If I couldn’t find the person who did this to me, what was the point of being reborn? As they led me towards the police car, I replayed the events of both lives in my head. Just as my foot was about to step into the vehicle, a spark ignited in the darkness of my mind. I spun around, my eyes scanning the crowd, and yelled. “I know who’s in the video!”

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1 For three years I stood by my husband guarding the Northern Frontier. Upon our return, he brought only his deputy’s widow and children. “He died saving me,” my husband claimed. “Caring for them is my sacred duty.” He gave me a wooden hairpin while installing them in the General’s mansion. When frontier wars raged, they feasted in luxury while I fled through wilderness with our children. Enemy scouts slaughtered them while I foraged. When General Joseph arrived, he shed no tears. “The title needs an heir,” he said. “Liz’s son will do.” “Don’t worry,” he added. “Even if I marry her, I’ll always love you most.” I drew my dagger and ended it all. Then I awoke—back on the day my children would die. … The moment I realized I had been reborn, I dropped the basket and sickle in my hands. I quickly disguised my two children, and together, we slipped out the back of our small dwelling. Perhaps they had grown accustomed to this life of constant flight and hardship. They were obedient, quiet, and cooperative. Their very maturity, born of suffering, only deepened the well of my hatred for Joseph. I had once promised him that I would never return to the Capital without a letter from him. This time, for the sake of my children’s lives, I would break that cursed vow. I sold the jade pendant he had given me when we were betrothed—our token of true love—and scraped together enough money for the long journey. After more than two weeks of jolting travel, we finally stood before the imposing gates of the General’s Manor. “Insolent beggars! The General’s Manor is no place for you to linger! Be gone, before our swords lose their patience!” The guards, assuming we were peasants seeking alms, moved to drive us away. They only stopped when I produced the official token of the General’s household. “Wait here. I will inform the General and his lady.” The guard took my token and disappeared inside. Half an incense stick later, a familiar voice, laced with annoyance, drifted from within. “How could a beggar have the General’s token? Did you even…” Lady Liz’s voice died in her throat the moment she saw me. I, too, stared at her, momentarily stunned. Her skin was fair and delicate, her gown fashioned from shimmering silks from the South. Her hair was a cascade of expensive pins and jewels. My children and I were dressed in coarse, patched tunics. Our skin was rough and chapped from the harsh frontier climate. No wonder the guards had mistaken us for beggars. In three years, aside from the cheap wooden pin he’d given me at our parting, Joseph hadn’t sent us a single coin, not a single morsel of food. All his thoughts, all his resources, had been lavished upon Liz and her children. Liz was clearly thrown by my sudden appearance. Her lips opened and closed, but no words came out. It wasn’t until Joseph appeared behind her, his face a mask of impatience, that the tableau broke. His eyes widened in shock when he saw me and the children. “Aurelia! What are you doing back in the Capital?” he hissed, grabbing our arms and frantically pulling us inside the manor. “We had an agreement! I told you I would write when it was time for you to return! Why didn’t you honor our arrangement?” I ignored his questions, my brow furrowed. “Why did the guards at the gate call Lady Liz ‘my lady’?” Joseph flinched, his gaze darting away from mine. Liz, who had followed us in, quickly interjected. “Aurelia, dear sister, don’t misunderstand. It’s just the servants. They speak out of turn.” She added, her voice dripping with false humility, “The only true lady of this manor is you.” I could hear the bitter resentment simmering beneath her words. Joseph nodded eagerly. “Yes, that’s right. The servants are foolish. Aurelia, you know my heart belongs only to you.” I was too weary to expose his lie. I simply led my children deeper into the manor. Just then, a small boy dressed in rich brocade ran out from one of the inner rooms. He threw his arms around Joseph’s legs. “Father!” he chirped. “You promised you would teach me swordsmanship today!” I recognized him at once. It was Liz’s younger son, Conrad. Three years ago, he had been a scrawny, timid child. Now, he was the very picture of a pampered young nobleman. My own children, by contrast, were little more than skin and bones. To get a single mouthful of food, they had to walk miles with me every day, digging for wild vegetables. Swordsmanship? Even learning to read and write was an impossible luxury. Liz, seeing the storm gathering on my face, quickly pulled Conrad away. Joseph came to me, taking my hand in a placating gesture. “Aurelia, please don’t be upset. The boy fell terribly ill a year ago, and all he did was cry for his father. You know it’s because of me that he has no father. I felt so guilty… I let him call me ‘Father’ to comfort him.” I remained silent. My silence made him nervous. “Aurelia, you’ve always been the most understanding of women. Surely you wouldn’t be angry with a child?” 2 In my last life, Joseph had used those exact same words. Five years ago, the enemy launched a surprise attack on our camp. It was his deputy, Liz’s husband, who had thrown himself in front of Joseph, saving his life. With his dying breath, the man had entrusted his wife and children to Joseph’s care. From that day forward, he brought Liz and her children to live with us. At first, he and Liz maintained a semblance of propriety. Any needs she or her children had were communicated through me. He doted on our own children. Liz and I even managed a cordial relationship. But somewhere along the way, his focus shifted entirely to her. If Liz or her children so much as coughed, he would shamelessly stay by their side all night. Yet when my own children needed their father, he would always use the excuse of military duties. Then came the King’s order for him to return to the Capital. He told me that Liz, a widow with two young children, would face gossip and hardship if left alone. He reminded me of his deathbed promise to his deputy. He would take them back to the Capital first, he said, and send for me and our children later, when things were settled. I understood that a debt of life was paramount. I agreed without hesitation. I never imagined that his “later” would mean three full years. I never imagined he could be so heartless as to completely abandon his own flesh and blood, while cherishing another man’s. I had written to him, my letters filled with hopeful questions about when he would send for us. I never received a single word in reply. In my last life, I understood his burden. I sympathized with his difficult position. I was grateful for the sacrifice Liz’s husband had made. So no matter how hard life on the frontier became, I gritted my teeth and endured it with my children. Every time they asked when their father was coming, I would invent excuses for him. During our time on the run, I would rather eat wild roots with them than sell the jade pendant he had given me. And what was my reward? The cold corpses of my children and a letter of divorce. Even the title of Young Lord, which rightfully belonged to my son, was to be stolen by hers. How could I accept that? How could I not hate him? So, in this new life, I would rewrite our destiny. Just as I was about to speak, Liz’s soft voice cut in. “Brother Joseph, Sister Aurelia, perhaps you can have your private conversation later. The children are hungry. Let us eat first.” The staff had no idea I was coming today, yet the dining table was laden with roasted fowl, fish, and glistening meats. This, clearly, was their everyday fare. My children’s eyes lit up at the sight of the feast. They began stuffing food into their mouths without a shred of decorum. Their manners were crude, uncultured. But I did not stop them. I knew how long it had been since they’d had a full meal. But some are not so understanding. “Mother, why are we eating with three beggars? It’s disgusting!” Liz’s older daughter, Celia, glared at my children with open contempt. I had no patience for it. I slammed my chopsticks down on the table with a loud crack. “Who are you calling a beggar?” Seeing my fury, Liz quickly scolded her daughter. “Celia! How dare you speak to the lady of the house that way? Apologize at once, or you’ll have no dinner.” Celia’s face was defiant. “Why should I apologize? I’m not wrong!” “Fine, I won’t eat! I’m sick of this food anyway!” With that, she stormed off. Liz offered me a perfunctory apology, then took her son Conrad’s hand and followed her daughter out. Joseph, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, looked furious. After the meal, he had a maid take my children for a bath. Once we were alone in the dining hall, he finally spoke. “Aurelia, when are you and the children returning to the frontier?” I gave him a strange look. “Why would we return? We have no intention of going back.” The moment the words left my mouth, I heard the sound of a teacup shattering just outside the hall. I looked up to see Liz’s retreating back. A flicker of worry crossed Joseph’s face, and his tone became frayed with impatience. “What do you mean you’re not going back?” “Aurelia, we had an agreement…” I cut him off. “Joseph, you have killed countless enemy soldiers. Their families see my children and me as targets for their revenge. And how am I, a lone woman, supposed to raise two children on the frontier? If you send us back, we will either be murdered by your enemies or starve to death.” My voice hardened. “And do not forget, they are your flesh and blood.” Joseph frowned. “I sent men to protect you. I sent money and grain every month. How could you not be able to care for the children?” 3 “When did you ever send men to protect us? When did you ever send us money or food?” “Do you have any idea that for the past year, my children and I have been hiding from your enemies, living on nothing but wild vegetables?” “You’re disgusted by how our children eat, by their lack of manners? Have you ever once stopped to consider why they are this way?” My barrage of questions silenced him. After a long pause, he finally mumbled, “I’ll go find out what happened.” He turned and strode away. That afternoon, Joseph came to my room, his face a mask of embarrassment. He explained that he had given Liz control of the household finances. The responsibility of caring for me and the children had been delegated to her as well. But, he claimed, she had been so overwhelmed with managing the manor that she had simply… forgotten about us on the distant frontier. “Forgotten?” The excuse was so absurd I almost laughed. “Did she truly forget about three living, breathing people, or did she see an opportunity to eliminate us so that she and her children could take our place?” My tone angered him. “Aurelia, the fault lies with my negligence. Blame me if you must, but Liz is innocent.” “She has to manage this entire manor for me and look after her two children. It hasn’t been easy for her.” His words were the final straw. “You say it hasn’t been easy for her? Then what about the three years of suffering my children and I have endured?” “If life in the General’s Manor is so difficult for her, why don’t you send her and her children back to the frontier?” Seeing my refusal to back down, Joseph’s anger flared. “Can you stop being so unreasonable?” “And don’t you forget,” he spat, “if it weren’t for Liz’s husband, I would be dead!” I let out a cold laugh. “And don’t you forget, if it weren’t for my father taking you into his army, you’d still be begging for scraps somewhere!” He fell silent. The room was thick with tension.

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My marriage began not with a honeymoon, but with a trip to the clinic. With my mother at my side, I had an IUD fitted, a cold, clinical promise to devote myself entirely to Lewis, my late sister’s nine-year-old son. For five years, I played the part of a perfect mother, transforming myself into the kind of polished, presentable wife Adrian Sterling could have on his arm. On Lewis’s fourteenth birthday, I threw him a lavish party. As I was arranging the finishing touches on his cake table, he gestured toward me and sneered for all his friends to hear. “Her? She’s just the homewrecking bitch who wormed her way in. You think I’d ever call her ‘Mom’?” Adrian didn’t even try to defend me. “It’s all water under the bridge,” he said dismissively. “There’s no need to explain. You’re Mrs. Sterling now, and that’s all that matters.” My nails dug into my palms. I knew that if I let this stand, my reputation would be permanently scorched. Later that night, the air cool against my skin, my husband’s body pressed against mine, his intentions clear. For the first time, I pushed him away. “I’m tired, Adrian. I want a divorce.” “Be reasonable, Ava,” he scoffed. “You can’t afford to leave me.” 1 A faint smile played on Adrian’s lips as he tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “I’ve already dealt with Lewis,” he said, his voice deceptively smooth. “He won’t be spouting such nonsense again.” When I remained silent, he stroked my hair as one might soothe a skittish pet. “He was just a kid back then, Ava. His mother had just died; he didn’t understand why you suddenly appeared in his life. If you make a scene about this, it will only affect his studies, and that won’t do you any favors.” His words were a veiled threat, a reminder that my monthly allowance was directly tied to Lewis’s academic performance. “I don’t want the money anymore,” I said, my voice flat. “Your son has already branded me in public. There’s no point in continuing this marriage. A clean break is better for everyone.” “You’re not thinking clearly. We’ll talk tomorrow, after you’ve had time to remember exactly why you married me.” Why did I marry him? For the money, of course. When my mother proposed the arrangement, I was out of options. Perhaps, from the very beginning, Adrian had looked down on me. The first time I saw him, he was standing beside my sister, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. He held her hand so gently, his eyes overflowing with a tenderness I had only dreamed of finding for myself one day. “I don’t want the money,” I repeated, my voice firmer this time. “I just want a divorce.” His patience finally snapped. He shot up in bed, his eyes blazing with fury, and pointed a finger at the door. “Get out. Stand in the hallway and think long and hard about where you came from, before you got a taste of the good life!” Wordlessly, I slipped on my slippers and, wrapped in nothing but a thin silk robe, stepped into the corridor. The night air sliced through the fabric, chilling me to the bone, but I didn’t flinch. The Sterlings were a dynasty, and Adrian was its undisputed king. He was used to my obedience; my defiance was a foreign concept to him. The next morning, the house staff found me still standing in the hallway, motionless. They were stunned. Since moving into this mansion, I had been up at six a.m. every day, a silent shadow working alongside them to ensure every detail of Adrian and Lewis’s morning routine was perfect. But today, even at nine a.m., I hadn’t lifted a finger. They sensed it immediately—something was different. “The watch my friend gave me yesterday, where’d you put it?” Lewis stormed over, already dressed in the outfit I had laid out for him the night before. He fiddled with his cuffs, his posture a mirror of his father’s casual arrogance. At fourteen, he was already as tall as a man, his features a sharp echo of Adrian’s, radiating a cold, privileged air. “What are you doing, just standing there like a statue? I asked you a question.” He looked me up and down, a flicker of surprise in his eyes as he took in my rumpled robe. By this time of day, I was always impeccably dressed. I saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a smirk; he was enjoying this. “I didn’t touch your things,” I said, my voice level. “And from now on, I won’t be.” From my first year in this house, I had managed every aspect of their lives, from their meals to their wardrobes. Lewis had severe allergies and a picky palate to match. Every pound he lost cost me thousands from my allowance. “You’re talking to me like that?” His expression was pure disdain. “So, the nice little act is over, is it? Now that I’ve exposed you for who you really are?” Five years of my life, poured into caring for him, and it meant nothing. It was just as Adrian had once remarked to a friend, “She tries so desperately to imitate my late wife, but she’s always just a clumsy parody.” At 9:08, Adrian’s bedroom door opened. He glanced at Lewis, then his eyes landed on me. “Where are my clothes?” A bitter laugh almost escaped me. His clothes were in the walk-in closet, where they always were. But for five years, I had been the one to select and lay out his attire for the day. He didn’t know how to function without me. When I didn’t answer, he disappeared back into the room and emerged a few minutes later in a mismatched suit. “That’s ten thousand off your allowance this month,” he threatened, certain he had found my weak spot. He knew how much I supposedly cared about the money, how I’d cried when it was cut before. In their eyes, I was a greedy materialist, my eyes lighting up at the sight of every new designer bag he bought me. “And if you keep this up, you can forget about the rest of the hundred thousand, too.” “You can keep it all. It doesn’t matter to me anymore.” Lewis’s eyes widened. “Oh, listen to her. Suddenly she doesn’t care about money?” I turned, my legs stiff and numb from standing all night. I swayed slightly. “The money you give me isn’t worth my self-respect.” Father and son exchanged a look, and I saw a flicker of realization in their eyes. This was real. hurried off, and Adrian finally met my gaze. “You stood out here all night and you still haven’t come to your senses?” “I’ve never been more clear-headed.” With that, I walked past him, back into the bedroom, and collapsed onto the bed. Adrian closed the door, plunging the room into silence. Exhaustion hit me like a wave, and I fell asleep almost instantly. When I woke, the room was dark. I glanced at my phone—it was already five p.m. I changed and went downstairs to find both of them home. “You slept all day,” Adrian said, his voice tight. “Are you ready to have a calm, rational discussion now?” I just smiled and shook my head. There was nothing to discuss. “I didn’t eat a thing today because of you,” he said, staring at me, searching for a hint of guilt. He found none. In fact, I found his statement hilarious. “I’m not your mouth. Whether you eat or not has nothing to do with me.” His face flushed with anger. “The staff can’t cook for me. The nutritional balance is off. They can’t do it with the same attention to detail you do.” I rolled my eyes, walked into the kitchen, and started pulling ingredients from the fridge. “I want grilled chicken wings. And go easy on the vegetables,” Lewis called out, assuming I was back in my place, cooking for them. He realized his mistake when I placed a single steaming plate of curry rice in front of myself and started eating. “Where’s mine?” Lewis demanded. I ignored him. Adrian’s expression grew darker as he watched me finish my meal and place the empty dish in the dishwasher. Finally, he snapped. “You are determined to be difficult!” he seethed. He grabbed his son and stormed out of the house. The roar of his sports car engine was a shriek in the quiet night. For the next eight days, I was a ghost in that house, leaving early and coming back late. I found a new apartment and started sending out my resume, desperate for a job. The responses were disheartening. Either my applications vanished into a void, or I was met with polite rejections. I hadn’t finished my degree; I was unqualified for any serious corporate position. Five years of my life had been wasted on domestic drudgery. A chilling realization washed over me: without a degree, I would struggle to build a life of my own. I messaged a friend, determined to sort out my education first. Before she could reply, Adrian’s name flashed on my screen. I ignored it several times, but he was persistent. Finally, I answered. “Ava, don’t you forget your place!” he roared into the phone. The force of his anger stunned me for a moment. My place? Was my place to be their caretaker until I died? Five years I’d wasted, orbiting them for money. I could tolerate it when I needed the cash, but now… I was done being their doormat. “Because of your little tantrum, Lewis had an allergic reaction. He’s in the hospital, he’s weak. Have you given a single thought to your responsibilities as a mother?” “A mother? I thought I was the ‘homewrecking bitch.’ How did I suddenly get a promotion?” Silence on his end. He couldn’t comprehend why I was splitting hairs. I didn’t want to argue. “Your son is fourteen years old,” I stated coolly. “He’s old enough to know what he can and cannot eat. Don’t call me again unless it’s about signing the divorce papers.” I could feel his fury radiating through the phone. “You’re serious about this? You really want a divorce?” “What’s the alternative? Wasting the rest of my life on you two?” Suddenly, Lewis’s voice cut in from the background. “You’re just a homewrecker who got lucky! You talk about divorce like you’re the victim here, like Dad did something to wrong you. This is about his company’s overseas IPO, isn’t it? You’re trying to squeeze more money out of him at a critical time!” Adrian, prompted by his son, spoke again, his voice laced with contempt. “If you want more money, just say so. Don’t waste my time with all this drama. If you try to sabotage my company right now, I will make you regret it.” A laugh, sharp and humorless, escaped me. “I had no idea your company was going public. You never tell me anything about your business. This has nothing to do with that. I’m just sick and tired of you.” “You want a divorce? Fine! We’ll go to the city hall tomorrow. But you walk away with nothing!” A genuine smile spread across my face. I was finally getting free. “That’s fine by me,” I told him. “None of it was ever mine to begin with.” I assumed that after signing the initial papers and entering the mandatory cooling-off period, Adrian would finalize the divorce as soon as the waiting time was up. Two months passed. His company’s IPO was a resounding success. But every time I filed the final divorce application, he had it withdrawn. Today marked the end of yet another thirty-day waiting period. I went to his office, but as always, his assistant and secretary blocked my path. “Mrs. Sterling, I’m sorry, Mr. Sterling is not in. He’s visiting a branch office today. Perhaps you could come back another time.” I nodded politely, then pushed past the stunned assistant and burst through the office doors. There he was. Adrian. Sitting at his desk, pen in hand, signing a document. He looked up, not a shred of embarrassment on his face at being caught in the lie. I took the seat opposite him and told his assistant to bring me a coffee. Then I slid the final divorce petition across the desk. His composure finally cracked when he saw it. “If you dodge this again, I’m taking it to court,” I said calmly. “The press will get wind of it eventually. I’m sure the resulting scandal will be far more damaging than just quietly signing these papers.” He snatched the petition and, right in front of me, ripped it to shreds, flinging the pieces in my face. “Don’t you push me, Ava!” His anger didn’t scare me. I just stared at him, my expression unreadable. “We were married for five years. I’m trying to do this amicably, Adrian. Don’t make this ugly for both of us.” He reined in his temper, lacing his fingers together on the desk. “If you’re upset because you and Lewis aren’t close, you can have the IUD removed. I’ll let you have our own child.” So that’s what he thought. This was all because I didn’t have a child of my own. He stood and tried to reach for my head, to give me that patronizing pat again. I flinched away, and to my astonishment, he smiled—a fond, almost doting look in his eyes. “Lewis was young back then. Your mother and I both thought it was best for you to focus on him. But he’s older now. We can have another baby. A child of our own would be a bond, something to stop these… fantasies of yours.” Oh. He thought he could chain me to him with a baby. But… “And what’s in it for me? A baby isn’t what I want.” A flicker of confusion crossed his face. “If you don’t want money and you don’t want a child, then what do you want?” “I dropped out of college to marry you. For five years, my entire world has revolved around you and your son.” I pointed to the framed wedding photo on his desk—of him and my sister. “In all that time, aside from a marriage certificate, I don’t even have a single wedding photo of my own.” His gaze followed mine to the picture, and a look of dawning comprehension crossed his features. “Is that what this is about?” He thought this was all some petty tantrum. He moved toward me, trying to pull me into an embrace. “I can arrange a photoshoot. We’ll hire the best photographer, fly anywhere in the world you want.” He started barking orders at his assistant right then and there, a pleased look on his face. “You should have just told me. Of course I would have done this for you.” He succeeded in patting my head this time. “I’ve just been so busy these past five years, Ava. I forgot you would care about things like this.” A suffocating feeling rose in my chest. I didn’t know where to even begin. This wasn’t about a photoshoot. This was about the fact that I had never, not for one second, envisioned growing old with him. “Ava, you’ve always been a wonderful wife. I’ve been very satisfied. Don’t continue this foolishness. You’re starting to wear away the… affection I’ve developed for you.” I let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Then you should let me go before it’s all gone. I’m done being delayed. I have things to do.” He stared at me, his eyes searching my face, finally seeming to understand that this wasn’t a joke or a negotiation tactic. “I played the part for five years. I did my duty. I even tried to become your dead wife for you, and all it earned me was your contempt. Just let me go.” His eyes turned red. He lunged, his hand closing around my throat. I could feel it trembling. Without a second’s hesitation, I swung my arm and slapped him. Hard. Then I slapped him again with my other hand. “Ava! Are you insane? You hit me!” His grip loosened, and I gasped for air, coughing. He pointed a trembling finger at me, his eyes filled with a raw hatred I’d never seen before. “You’re dead set on this, aren’t you?” I nodded, my voice raspy. “We can still make it to the city hall if we leave now.” He dragged me to his car and drove like a man possessed. When we screeched to a halt in front of the municipal building, I was out of the car in a flash, waiting for him on the steps. He took a moment to straighten his suit, his eyes still red-rimmed and glaring, before striding inside. As we waited in line, his phone rang incessantly. He took call after call, his voice clipped and agitated. Finally, it was our turn. Just as I was about to hand over our documents, my mother appeared out of nowhere. Without a word, she slapped me across the face and dragged me toward the exit. “Who do you think you are?” she hissed, grabbing a fistful of my hair and shaking my head violently. The pain was sharp, my vision swimming. “Getting a divorce without telling me? You will go back in there and apologize to Adrian right now, or I’m stopping the hospital payments.” She continued, her voice a venomous torrent—the most she’d spoken to me in years. “Your father and Adrian are in the middle of a major business deal! Do you want Adrian to abandon our family because of you?” “If you want to starve, that’s your problem, but don’t you dare drag us down with you!” She released my hair, only to poke me hard in the forehead. As she ranted, I gathered myself and slapped her back. Adrian, who had just walked out, froze, staring at us in shock. “Are you crazy? Now you’re hitting your own mother?” he exclaimed. “This is beyond reason.” My mother, emboldened by Adrian’s presence, puffed up with renewed indignation. “Ava, for years, Adrian and I have provided for your every need. We don’t ask for gratitude, but you should at least remember the duty you accepted when you married into this family.”

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My sister Lisbeth and I were the last Twin Life-Lotus blossoms on the Spirit Lotus Continent. On our human transformation day, the heavens granted us two sacred fertility arts— Lisbeth, fearing childbirth pains, seized Immaculate Transference—the power to shift pregnancies to others. I was left with Miraculous Brood—bearing multiple offspring at once. We were wed to two great clans: her to the Tiger Prince, me to Dragon Prince Kaelan. But Lisbeth was insatiable. Night after night, she bedded beastmen of every tribe. To hide her bastards, she forced their unborn into my womb. I birthed litter after litter of mongrels—wolf, bear, and serpent hybrids—branded a continent-wide harlot. Prince Kaelan called me a stain on dragon blood. Each birth, he slaughtered the newborns before me, shoving their raw flesh into my mouth until I swallowed every piece. I leapt from Sacred Peak’s ten-thousand-foot cliffs. When I awoke—it was transformation day again. Just as before, Lisbeth lunged for the gift of Immaculate Transference. But this time, to my astonishment, the gift that remained for me was different. It was no longer Miraculous Brood. It was… Bloodline Ascension. I eagerly absorbed it into my soul. This time, I would accept every child she forced upon me. And with this power, I would transform them. I would unleash the long-extinct Mythic Beasts of Old, and they would once again walk the Animus Continent. The day of our transformation arrived. The most powerful beastmen from across the four seas gathered, forming a suffocating ring around the sacred ground where we grew. They were all here for us, for the Progenitor’s Gifts we would receive, gifts that could ensure the future of their bloodlines. Even before her petals fully unfurled, Lisbeth was already swaying seductively in the wind, a picture of captivating charm. She leaned toward me, her voice dripping with false concern. “Lyra, my sweet little sister, you’re so naive about the ways of the world. Let me choose first. I promise, I’ll leave the best gift for you.” She’d said the exact same thing in my past life. And she had indeed chosen the lesser gift of Immaculate Transference, leaving the supposedly superior Miraculous Brood for me. Back then, I was filled with gratitude, believing in the depth of our sisterly bond. I was a fool. From the very beginning, her plan was to use me as her vessel, a scapegoat for her lust. She would spend her nights tangled in the sheets of countless lovers, while I would endure the agony of childbirth and the shame of being branded the filthiest woman alive. The memory ignited a firestorm of hatred in my heart. The heavens had granted me a second chance, and this time, I would rewrite my destiny. Two bolts of celestial lightning struck the ground before us, materializing into two spheres of golden light. Floating within them were the Progenitor’s Gifts, visible only to my sister and me. Relying on my memory, I darted toward the light on the left. That should have been Immaculate Transference. But as I drew closer, I saw the words shimmering within, and my heart stopped. It was a power I had never seen before, a celestial-grade gift: Bloodline Ascension. As I stared in confusion, I heard Lisbeth whisper to herself, “Immaculate Transference? Does that mean I don’t have to suffer the pain of childbirth? Perfect. You’re mine.” Her words snapped me out of my daze, and confusion turned to elation. She was setting the same trap. But this time, I wouldn’t just avoid it—I would shatter it completely. With the gift of Bloodline Ascension, I would never again bear the weight of her sins. No matter what creature she conceived—be it serpent, bear, or dog—I could elevate its bloodline, transforming it into a legendary beast of myth, like the Taotie, the Hydra, or the Bai-ze, creatures long lost to time. With a surge of triumph, while Lisbeth was distracted, I reached out and absorbed the celestial gift of Bloodline Ascension into my very being. Lisbeth claimed her own gift and then turned to me, her eyes glinting. “Lyra, I saved the better one for you. What is your gift?” “Miraculous Brood,” I lied. A flicker of smug satisfaction crossed her face. Then, she turned to the assembled crowd of beastmen and announced in a loud, clear voice, “The time has come for you to choose your brides! I, Lisbeth, am a simple soul, but my sister Lyra is ambitious. She desires everything.” “That is why I gave her the superior gift. I urge you to consider her first!” It was the same manipulative speech as before, elevating herself while planting the seeds of my future ruin. Just then, a formidable figure stepped forward. Clad in golden armor, it was my husband from my past life: the Dragon Prince, Kaelan. As the crown prince of the Dragon Clan, a true Golden Dragon, he had the first right to choose his bride. His eyes met mine, and I quickly looked away. I couldn’t marry him again. He was a tyrant, a man ruled by his own violent whims. In my past life, no matter how I pleaded, he was convinced I was a tainted woman, forcing me to suffer the unspeakable agony of eating my own children. But he strode directly to me and took my hand. Beside me, Lisbeth’s face fell. She must have thought her ‘pure maiden’ act would win Kaelan over. But Kaelan valued power above all else. In my past life, if Lisbeth, consumed by jealousy, hadn’t immediately forced a litter of nine mongrel pups on me… if I had first birthed nine dragons for Kaelan… perhaps my fate would have been different. But none of that mattered now. I would not be his bride in this life. Kaelan held my hand, his voice ringing with false passion. “Lyra, will you be my Dragon Queen?” A roar of applause erupted from the crowd. To them, our union meant the birth of true dragons, the rise of a new Beast King who could finally unite the warring clans of the continent. I hesitated, trying to think of a way to refuse him without revealing that I had been reborn. But in that moment of hesitation, Kaelan’s expression twisted into one of pure disgust. He shoved me violently away, sending me stumbling backward. “Filthy woman!” he spat, his voice laced with venom. “Even with a superior gift, I would never marry you!” I stared, stunned. And then I realized. He had been reborn, too. Before I jumped from the cliff, I had poisoned his food with a soul-shattering toxin. It seemed he had eaten it. The crowd gasped, shocked by his sudden reversal. They looked to him for an explanation. After all, I was a heavenly-blessed Life-Lotus. Kaelan sneered down at me, even spitting on the ground at my feet. He surveyed the crowd like a judge delivering a verdict. “As a Golden Dragon, I possess the gift of foresight,” he announced. “The moment I touched Lyra’s hand, I saw her future: a future where she gives birth to a parade of low-grade mongrels, a brood of worthless beasts.” “I could never marry such a woman. She is a shameless harlot, destined to cuckold whoever takes her as a wife. Let the man who marries her be prepared to wear a crown of horns!” The beastmen exchanged looks of disbelief. Lisbeth rushed to my side, shaking her head with an air of profound disappointment. She pointed a finger at me, her voice ringing with condemnation. “Oh, Lyra, what am I to do with you? You’ve gained a new form, but you can’t shed your old habits?” “Even before, when so much as a stray dog wandered by, you would preen and posture, desperate for its attention.” “How many times have I told you? A woman must be reserved, pure as ice and jade! How could you be so foolish?” Rage choked me. She was describing herself, projecting her own debauchery onto me. “No!” I cried out. “That’s not true! They’re slandering me!” But no one listened. Trapped between Kaelan’s accusation and Lisbeth’s poison, I was drowning in a sea of their fury. They stared at me with disgust, their words like stones. “I can’t believe it. She looks so innocent, but she’s completely promiscuous.” “What a waste of a heavenly gift. Does she think we beastmen have no shame?” “If you’re so desperate for attention, maybe we should host a public revel for you next time!” My face was pale, my body trembling. I had been reborn, only to be hit with the same vile accusations, faster and more violently than before. And Kaelan, the architect of my misery, my former husband, watched my suffering without a flicker of remorse. He walked straight to Lisbeth, took her hand, and kissed it gently. “I, Kaelan, may value bloodlines, but I value honor more. I will only marry a pure woman like Lisbeth!” Lisbeth feigned surprise, her cheeks flushing. Then she shot me a triumphant, meaningful look. “Well, my dear sister. It’s your turn to choose.” The crowd of onlookers scattered, avoiding me as if I carried a plague. Soon, only a few remained before me—pariahs and outcasts who cared nothing for reputation. Their eyes glowed with lust, saliva dripping from their mouths as they made their vile proposals. “Lyra, since the decent folk won’t have you, come home with me.” “Don’t mind that I’m just a python. I can promise you a better time than any dragon!” “I run a brothel. Come with me, and I’ll let you have your pick of any man you desire!” Nausea churned in my stomach. Their depravity was on full display. Even Kaelan seemed a little disgusted, perhaps remembering that I was once his wife. He looked down at me with contempt. “Lyra, if you promise to behave yourself, I wouldn’t mind taking you back… as a servant.” Lisbeth’s face soured at the suggestion. “Lyra, hurry up and choose!” she snapped. “With your reputation, you can’t afford to be picky. You should be grateful anyone will have you. Make a choice, or you’ll die an old maid.” I ignored her. My gaze lifted past them all, toward the majestic, imposing peak in the distance. Mount Sovereign. My husband was there.

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A new reality show about a billionaire family is the latest viral hit. During a live broadcast, someone brought me up. My mother, her arm wrapped around the fake heiress, Chloe, accused me of being a pathological liar. My brother, Sonny, his voice laced with ice, added, “She’s nothing but trash.” My childhood friend, Peter, frowned. “A vicious, ungrateful viper,” was his assessment. Then Chloe, in her sugary-sweet voice, intervened. “Mom, Sonny, Peter, please don’t say that about my sister. Why don’t we invite her on the show? I’m sure she’s seen the error of her ways by now.” They fell silent. The live-stream comments, however, exploded with excitement, demanding they go find the real heiress immediately. Everyone wanted to see what kind of monster Jodie Ashford was to be so universally despised. Finally, Sonny lifted his gaze, his expression unreadable. “Fine. Do whatever you want.” And so, the entire production, a massive entourage, set off to find me. I floated in the air, a silent ghost tagging along. I was curious. Where on earth could they possibly find me? 1 A crowd of people swarmed in front of a dilapidated old building. The corners of the lot were overflowing with garbage, a buzzing cloud of flies and roaches feasting on the rot. The crew from the show couldn’t help but pinch their noses against the stench. I did a slow loop in the air, grateful I couldn’t smell a thing. Just then, my mother, Sonny, and the others stepped out of their luxury cars. Dressed in limited-edition couture, they were a stark, shimmering contrast to the squalor around them. The live-stream chat filled with confusion: 【Wait, the real Ashford heiress lives in a dump like this?】 【That dress Chloe’s wearing could probably buy this whole building.】 Someone chimed in with an explanation: 【You guys didn’t see the news? Three years ago, Jodie Ashford killed her own father and ran away from home.】 【What? She’s that horrible? The Ashfords should never have taken her back in the first place.】 【Yeah, I heard about her. A real piece of work. Nothing like Chloe, who has Sonny Ashford and the medical prodigy Peter protecting her.】 The discussion was heating up. My mother pulled out a silk handkerchief, holding it to Chloe’s nose to block the smell. Then she turned to Sonny. “Go get Jodie to open the door.” Sonny took a single step up the crumbling concrete stairs, then froze. He’d realized he had no idea which apartment was mine. I’d actually told him before. But at the time, he was too busy consoling a tearful Chloe to pay any attention. But then I heard a low voice from behind him. It was Peter. “201.” I wasn’t surprised. Of everyone here, Peter knew me best. Sonny shot Peter a surprised look before continuing up to the second floor. There was no doorbell. The great Sonny Ashford, CEO of Ashford Corp, was reduced to pounding on a rusty metal door. A long, long time passed. No one answered. I tilted my head, watching Sonny. His face was hardening, a cold mask settling over his features. “Silly brother,” I whispered in his ear, though he couldn’t hear me. “Obviously, no one’s home.” He just kept knocking, a stubborn, repetitive rhythm. I found it fascinating. Normally, his patience with me wore thin in seconds. He would have stormed off by now, spitting, “Such a lack of manners,” over his shoulder. The viewers in the live stream were getting restless. 【Is she not home? Why don’t they just call her?】 【Who knows if they even have her number? Look at Sonny, he didn’t even know the apartment number.】 【I heard Peter grew up with Jodie in a group home. Now he’s a medical genius with a spotless reputation. If even he talks about her like that, she must be truly terrible.】 【I was so ready for the drama of Jodie joining the show. The real vs. the fake heiress, it would’ve been epic.】 Then, another comment: 【This place looks sketchy as hell. Isn’t anyone worried something might have happened to her?】 This was a live broadcast, so the people on set could see the comments scrolling by. “Maybe… maybe my sister saw the show and left ahead of time,” Chloe said, her head bowed as if in deep sorrow. “She doesn’t want to see us. When she left, she blocked all of our numbers.” “It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me…” “This has nothing to do with you! She’s the ungrateful wretch!” Sonny had stopped knocking. His voice was cold, sharp with a hatred that seemed to cut through the air. “She’d better hope she can hide for the rest of her life.” I had heard those words, or ones just like them, too many times while I was alive. I didn’t want to hear them again. I drifted away from them, watching as they conferred with the production crew, finally giving up on their plan to invite me. Only when they began preparing for the next segment did I float back. 2 Just as everyone was about to get back into their cars, a woman in flashy, cheap clothes emerged from the building, yawning. She was halfway down the stairs when she saw Sonny’s face. She stopped, turned back, and threw him a sultry look. “Hey handsome, looking for me? It’s only two hundred.” I blinked, drifting in front of my brother to get a better look. Well. He was undeniably handsome. As I recalled, women had always flocked to him like moths to a flame. When had Sonny Ashford ever been subjected to such a humiliating offer? His face instantly darkened. “Get lost.” Several of his bodyguards moved forward, their expressions menacing. The woman flinched, about to run. “Wait,” Chloe called out, stopping her with a gentle smile. “Excuse me, have you seen the woman who lives here?” she asked, gesturing to the door of my old apartment. The woman glanced at the door. “Oh, her?” she said with a dismissive smirk. “She’s got good business. Always a few men with her at a time.” After she spoke, a dead silence fell over the scene. Chloe was the first to react, covering her mouth with her hand, the very picture of shocked innocence. “Oh my god. My sister… how could she do something like that?” My mother clutched at her chest, her face pale with rage. “What a disgraceful, filthy creature!” she seethed. Chloe immediately rushed to her side, helping her back toward the car and rubbing her back to calm her down. “That bastard!” Sonny finally processed the words, his initial shock turning into incandescent rage. “As an Ashford, how dare she?!” The force of his anger made me shrink back. I didn’t understand why he was so furious. Hadn’t he always told me I was born low-class, unworthy of the Ashford name? Why did it suddenly matter to him now what I did? The internet, of course, went into a frenzy. The comments flew by in a blur: 【What the hell, Jodie is a… a prostitute?】 【What a disgrace to the Ashford family. If only Chloe were their real daughter. She’s so pure and innocent.】 【Can we just move on? I don’t want to hear another thing about this person. It’s disgusting.】 But some offered a different perspective: 【Could this be a misunderstanding? Chloe isn’t always right. Peter grew up with Jodie, maybe he knows her better?】 At the mention of his name, everyone on set turned to look at Peter, waiting for his verdict. I floated over to him, waiting too. Peter simply lowered his gaze, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “I never thought she’d sink so low.” He sided with Chloe, condemning me. He affirmed that yes, with a character like mine, I was capable of such a thing. A wave of murmurs went through the crowd. Sonny’s hands clenched into fists, the veins on their backs standing out like cords. Chloe, having settled my mother in the car, hurried back to his side. I stared at Peter. This boy, three years younger than me, whom I had once treated like my own brother. I thought I would be used to it by now. But my heart still ached with a familiar, numbing pain. When we were kids, bullies used to pick on him. I always stood in their way. Once, my arm was broken protecting him. Another time, I nearly lost an eye. But none of that seemed to matter as much as the simple umbrella Chloe had handed him on a rainy day. From that day on, whatever Chloe said, whatever she did, he defended her. She said I stole the class funds, so he testified against me, getting me ostracized by my classmates and disciplined by the school. Chloe fell down a flight of stairs when I was nearby, so he pushed me down a flight of stairs in return. And now, this. He knew. He knew the truth. When we were clinging to each other for survival, we lived in this very building. That flimsy metal door did nothing to block out the sounds from next door. He would cover my ears with his small hands, his jaw clenched in hatred. “Jodie, don’t listen. Don’t be scared. When I make money, we’ll move away from here.” We did eventually move. He got a big, beautiful house. But the sister in his heart was no longer me. It was Chloe. “Mr. Ashford, I’ve found the young miss’s number.” 3 Sonny’s assistant’s voice snapped me back to the present. I was a little surprised. My brother had actually sent someone to find my number? That was so unlike him. The resources at his command were usually reserved for Chloe and Chloe alone. I floated closer to him. He was frowning, staring at the number scrawled on a slip of paper in his hand. His face was a mask of conflict. Was he hesitating? Struggling with what to say to his disgraceful sister? Impossible. I shook my head. I knew better than that. The only times Sonny had ever called me were to demand I apologize to Chloe, or to vent his own frustrations… “Jodie, you have three minutes to get to Father’s memorial tablet and kneel.” The seconds ticked by. Sonny just stared at the number, unmoving. I was getting antsy for him. The live stream was, too: 【What’s he thinking? Just call already! Confront her!】 【They said they haven’t spoken in three years. Maybe it feels awkward?】 【CALL HER! Get her on the show so we can see how awful she really is.】 【I bet she won’t have the guts to show up. She burned her bridges with the Ashfords.】 The show’s director, growing desperate, cautiously approached his biggest sponsor. “Mr. Ashford, if you’d please…” Sonny silenced him with a single glare. The director scurried away, but not without a flicker of triumph on his face. He had seen it. Sonny’s phone screen now read: Dialing… Everyone held their breath. Only I wasn’t nervous. I was bored, looking around. After all, there was no way that call could connect. I was a ghost. How could I possibly answer a phone? But in the next second, the call connected. A voice on the other end said, “Hello?” I jumped in shock. But I quickly composed myself. My brother, on the other hand, was stunned into fury. He practically choked on the words. “Who is this?” “Where is Jodie?” 4 “This is your daddy!” The person on the other end seemed to hesitate for a second before snapping back. Sonny, after a moment of shock, regained his composure. “You must be her friend, Maya. She always did love running with gutter trash like you.” “Put Jodie on the phone.” I looked up, surprised. I didn’t think he’d even remember Maya, my best friend from before I returned to the Ashfords. I thought he never paid any attention to my life at all. Maya’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Well, well. I thought the great Sonny Ashford was calling because he’d finally grown a conscience. Turns out you’re just as cold-blooded as ever. Is this how all you rich folk are?” Sonny didn’t rise to the bait. He calmly slipped on the jacket his assistant handed him. “Miss Maya,” he said with a faint, chilling smile, “I doubt you could find a more cold-blooded person on this earth than your dear friend, Jodie.” “Right, right. The kindest person in the world is your precious, two-faced fake sister, Chloe. There, are you satisfied, Mr. Ashford?” Maya was clearly furious now, her words tumbling out in a rush. “You build her up, fund this trashy show, and you want to drag Jodie through the mud as a prop? Don’t you think you’ve hurt her enough? It’s disgusting!” She paused, as if catching her breath, then added, “If you ask me, Jodie wasn’t cold-blooded enough. She should have just watched you get kidnapped all those years ago!” Sonny’s pupils contracted. His knuckles, wrapped around the phone, turned white. I felt a jolt of memory, a dizzying pull back to the year I was taken. My brother, sneaking me out of the house to play without our parents’ permission. A tall man grabbing him, trying to drag him into a van. I had clawed and bit at the man until he yelped in pain and let go. I kept screaming, crying, finally drawing the attention of passersby. Realizing he’d been spotted and that grabbing Sonny again would be too difficult, the man had simply shoved me into the van and sped off. I was four years old. My brother was ten. Sonny’s face became a thundercloud. “Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that?” he snarled. “I’ll say it one more time. Get Jodie. On. The. Phone. Now.” “Oh, that’s right! You’re all so high and mighty! Us poor folk aren’t worthy of speaking to you!” Maya was clearly terrified of Sonny, but she gritted her teeth and pushed on. “You want to talk to Jodie? Maybe in your next life!” Maya, you fool! Why are you provoking him? I was frantic, wanting desperately to stop her, but it was useless. I could see Sonny’s face had become so dark it looked like it was carved from obsidian. My heart twisted for Maya, terrified of what he might do to her in retaliation. I knew what that was like. It wasn’t pleasant. And Maya was just an ordinary person; she stood no chance against my brother. Strangely, Sonny took a deep breath and, for once, didn’t retaliate. Just then, Peter suddenly spoke up. “Let me try.” 5 Sonny tossed the phone to Peter, his face a mask of stone, and walked away. Peter caught it, his tone familiar and easy. “Maya, it’s been a while. Can you put Jodie on?” Maya, Peter, and I had all grown up in the same group home. Once upon a time, we were an inseparable trio. There was a long silence on Maya’s end before she finally spoke, her voice hollow. “Well, if it isn’t the rising star of the medical world. What’s it been, a few years? Have you already forgotten how to call the person who worked her fingers to the bone to put you through school ‘sister’?” Peter’s lips curved into an unconcerned smile. “Maya. Sister. Is that better?” “Was I asking you to call me that?” Maya exploded. “Peter, has your conscience been completely eaten by dogs?” The smile vanished from Peter’s face. His expression cooled. “Maya, my patience is limited.” “Where is Jodie?” “You want to see her?” Maya’s tone was strange, almost eerie. Peter’s lips thinned, but he said nothing. Maya let out a short, sharp laugh that grew louder and more unhinged. “You want to see her now? Isn’t it a little late for that? Where were all of you before?!” Still, Peter didn’t answer. Maya’s laughter died down. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and steady. “Jodie? Oh, she’s probably… been reincarnated into a better family by now.” The call was on speaker, the volume turned up for the show. The entire set, including the crew and the thousands watching the live stream, fell into a profound silence. My heart leaped into my throat. So, it’s finally out. Before I died, Maya was the only one by my side. She handled everything afterward. She had already borne so much for me. It was probably for the best that she let it all out. I just didn’t know how my mother and brother would react. I lowered my head, unable to look at any of them. After what felt like an eternity, a low chuckle broke the silence. 6 I turned. It was my brother. He was laughing. “You went through all that trouble just to say that?” Sonny said, slipping his hands into his pockets, utterly convinced he had uncovered the truth. “Jodie put you up to this, didn’t she.” It wasn’t a question. “She really is something else.” Peter’s head was bowed, his hair obscuring his eyes. “A person that selfish… she wouldn’t die before she’s done ruining people’s lives,” he said, his voice laced with scorn, as if the flicker of panic in his eyes moments before had been a mere illusion. I bowed my head, helpless. Of course. Peter probably wished I would just drop dead. “That’s right, I was just messing with you! So what?” Maya’s voice suddenly turned manic. “Jodie is happier than she has ever been since she left you all! Did you really think she liked living in that toxic wasteland of a family? She was sick of it! Why is it always you people who get to summon her and dismiss her whenever you please? You want to find her? Then you can crawl over here yourselves!” Maya spat out an address and, without waiting for a reply, hung up. Everyone stared at each other. The director and camera operators exchanged nervous glances, but no one dared to move. They just kept the cameras rolling. Sonny stood frozen, his expression impassive, but the veins on the back of his hand were a web of angry blue. Peter remained with his head down, his thoughts a mystery. “Go. We’ll go right now. Let’s see what kind of game this little liar Jodie is playing!” The furious voice came from behind them. My mother, leaning carefully on Chloe’s arm, strode forward. “And bring the family register,” she commanded. “The Ashfords have no such person in their family!” Chloe froze, then turned to the camera, her face a mask of pitiful pleading. “Sister, I know you’re watching. Please, I’m begging you, stop making Mom and our brothers angry. It’s not too late to admit you’re wrong.” My grandmother’s intent was clear. She was going to disown me, live on this show, in front of the whole world. In a hundred years, the Ashford family had never had such a disgraceful child. Sonny’s expression shifted through a storm of emotions. Finally, he spoke. “Jodie, you’ve gone too far this time.” “It’s time you learned a lesson.” Hearing that, I silently floated into one of the cars. And I silently cursed myself. Jodie. How could you still hold out any hope that your brother would protect you?

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It was the third year of my marriage to Marcus Kane. He was thirty-five. I wasn’t even twenty-one, just a senior in college. I was still debating whether I wanted to be a stay-at-home wife when I overheard him chatting with a group of his high-powered friends. “Sophie has nothing going for her but her youth,” he said, his voice casual. “Compared to her, Isabel is so much more sophisticated. I’m starting to regret this marriage. Keeping a young girl on the side costs pennies compared to this. A divorce now would be a massive financial hit.” The next day, I handed him the divorce papers. When he saw the clause stating I would walk away with nothing, a long sigh of relief escaped him. He even put on a show of magnanimity. “I’ll give you twenty million,” he said. “Consider it compensation.” I smiled and refused. “I’m still young. I can afford to play.” He didn’t know that my brother was Alex Thorne, one of the most powerful men in the city. For years, Marcus had only managed to climb into the inner circle of the elite thanks to my brother’s support. By divorcing me, his losses were only just beginning. 1 For my senior year internship, I decided to go to Marcus’s company. I wanted to be able to sneak a few more glances at my handsome husband every day. As a low-level intern, I kept such a low profile that even Marcus didn’t know I was there. I didn’t want to be a distraction or cause him any trouble. Sometimes, I’d overhear the other interns gossiping about him. I’d listen intently, but never joined in. “Mr. Kane is so hot. Thirty-five is a man’s prime.” “Too bad he’s married. And to some unknown young girl, apparently.” “Ugh, why can’t I be that lucky…” When I was eighteen, Marcus had pursued me with a singular focus. On our very first date, he told me he was looking for a wife, not a fling. He gave me the ring right then and there. I met his intensity with my own. We dated for a year and then got married. It was impulsive, intoxicating, sweet, and blissful. He gave me a fantasy romance beyond my wildest dreams. The love of a powerful CEO was direct and overwhelming, a force of nature that swept me off my feet and left me completely disoriented. If I hadn’t come to intern at his company, I might never have discovered his secrets. Isabel. Marcus’s executive assistant. She was stunningly beautiful, a classic, sophisticated woman. She often accompanied him on business trips and to client dinners. She had her hand in every aspect of the company; in some ways, she knew it even better than he did. Before they learned of his marriage, everyone in the company assumed Isabel was the true boss’s wife. I’d even hear the veteran employees, who had been with them from the start, complaining in the cafeteria. “Mr. Kane must be blind, having a goddess like Isabel by his side and not cherishing her.” “And after she quit her senior position at that publicly-traded company just to be his assistant.” “Just you watch. Once the passion fades, he’ll divorce that girl and end up with Isabel.” The rumors were everywhere, but I never let them bother me. After all, the passion between Marcus and me was reignited every single night. That is, until a company dinner where Isabel, drunk, confessed her feelings for Marcus in front of everyone. It wasn’t so much a confession as an ultimatum. She asked him if he had any feelings for her. Marcus was silent for a long time. Isabel pressed him again. “If you don’t have feelings for me, why won’t you approve my resignation letter?” Marcus’s face was grim. He finally answered with a single word. “Yes.” Then, he looked at her, his gaze full of a deep, complicated emotion. “I do have feelings for you. I can’t lose you, so I can’t sign your resignation. Is that okay?” Isabel smiled. She drained a glass of liquor from the table, grabbed her purse, and walked out. The air in the room was thick for two seconds. Then Marcus chased after her. The only people at that dinner were the old guard, the ones who had built the company with Marcus and Isabel. I wasn’t there. But a bubbly girl I’d become friendly with, Jenna, loved gossip. She’d filmed the whole thing and sent it to me privately. Jenna texted me: 【Do you think something’s going to happen between Mr. Kane and Isabel tonight?】 I replied: 【Probably not… I hope.】 【They’re grown adults, they’ve known each other for years, they have this deep connection, they’ve been drinking, and she just confessed… and you think nothing will happen?】 I typed back, my fingers firm: 【Marcus is married. He should have some self-control. Besides, Isabel doesn’t need to be a homewrecker!】 【You have a point. But we’ll know for sure tomorrow if something happened.】 I didn’t understand what she meant by “we’ll know for sure tomorrow.” But a moment after I closed her chat window, the answer came to me. A message from Marcus. He said he wouldn’t be home tonight. A last-minute work thing. A tremor went through my heart. I immediately called him. At first, he didn’t pick up. I called again, and again. Finally, he answered. “Hey, baby. My phone was on silent, I didn’t hear it. What’s up?” I fought to keep my voice steady, my nails digging into the flesh of my palm. “Honey, are you really not coming home tonight?” “Yeah, it’s a team dinner, everyone’s here. I can’t get away. Please understand, baby.” I bit my lip, forcing myself to ask the next question. “Are there any women there?” He paused, then chuckled. “No. When did you start checking up on me? Want me to video call and prove my innocence?” As he was speaking, I heard a soft, rustling sound. The distinct sound of a crisp dress shirt rubbing against hotel sheets. In the past, when our love was a fever, that was a sound I heard often. “Hnngh…” A low grunt escaped his lips on the other end. In that single, fleeting moment, all the turmoil in my heart vanished. After three years with Marcus, after countless nights of passion, I knew exactly what that sound meant. It was the sound of a man trying to suppress a wave of pleasure. A detail he probably wasn’t even aware of himself. Perfect. I didn’t even have to stop him from cheating. The deed was already done. I gave a bitter laugh. “No need for a video call…” I was afraid it would burn my eyes out. “You have fun. I’m going to sleep.” My heart felt like a pile of cold ash. I was about to hang up when Marcus spoke again, his voice now a low, raspy drawl. “Baby, we just closed a huge deal tonight. Starting tomorrow, the team’s going to be in overdrive. I’ll probably be working very late for a while. You don’t have to wait up for me for dinner.” Working in overdrive. Or getting “overdrive” with Isabel. To me, it no longer mattered. 2 The phone call ended. I didn’t sleep a wink. I arrived at the office with dark circles under my eyes. My brain was still a blank fog when Jenna sidled up to me, eager to continue last night’s gossip. “Something definitely happened between Mr. Kane and Isabel last night.” I frowned slightly. She continued, “Mr. Kane’s shirt was all wrinkled this morning, and… he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. That means he didn’t go home at all, right?” I nodded, not having the energy to praise her keen eye. “And Isabel was late this morning,” Jenna went on, “When she came in, she was practically glowing. You know how she’s usually all business? Today she was like a different person.” “A different person how?” I asked. She thought for a moment. “Brighter, sexier, almost… purring. See for yourself.” I looked up. I saw Isabel walk in, wearing a tight, form-fitting dress that hugged her curves. I’d seen that dress before. I had been shopping with Marcus when I spotted it. They didn’t have my size, so I paid for it and asked the clerk to ship it to Marcus’s office when it came in. Apparently, the shipment had arrived. But the recipient had changed. Isabel was in a great mood. She walked in and asked what everyone wanted to drink, her treat. The office erupted in cheers. I sat in my corner, a bitter cocktail of emotions churning in my stomach. I tried to lose myself in work, but it was useless. I drifted through the morning in a haze. At lunch, I was eating takeout at my desk when Isabel walked into Marcus’s office carrying several bags of exquisite-looking food. She went in. And didn’t come out until the afternoon. When she finally emerged, it was late, almost time to go home. Beside me, Jenna made a tsk-tsk sound. “The world these days,” she sighed. “Of all the men Isabel could have, she had to go for a married one. Little Chang, whose desk is closer to the office, said that as soon as Isabel went in, she threw herself into Mr. Kane’s arms. They nearly turned the office into a hotel room!” With that, Jenna sent me a photo that Chang had secretly taken. Isabel was sitting on Marcus’s lap, feeding him. The look on their faces, their posture… it was painfully intimate. “I can’t imagine how heartbroken Mr. Kane’s wife would be if she saw this,” Jenna whispered with a sigh. Across from us, our manager, Mr. Davies, frowned. “They’re two consenting adults. What business is it of yours?” Jenna didn’t catch his meaning and added playfully, “You’re right. She’s definitely the ‘mistress’ in this love story!” Mr. Davies was not amused. He slapped a thick binder on Jenna’s desk. “Since you’re so free, you can finish this. You’re not leaving until it’s done.” Jenna’s face fell. I quietly sent her a message: 【Mr. Davies and Isabel go way back. He’s definitely on her side. You should probably avoid comments like that in the future.】 Jenna replied with a string of crying emojis. I tried to console her: 【Don’t worry, I’ll help you with it. We’ll finish it quickly and I’ll treat you to lobster rolls after.】 She cheered up immediately. That evening, after we had finally finished our extra work and were about to leave for dinner, Mr. Davies called out to us again. “You’ve worked hard. Let’s all go out for a late supper.” He didn’t give us a chance to refuse. He led us to a restaurant near the office. After dinner, he herded us to a karaoke bar. We were reluctant, but we had no choice. As interns, we had no power. We found a dark corner and started playing a game on our phones, getting completely absorbed. We didn’t even notice the private room slowly filling up with more people. Until I heard a familiar voice. I looked up and saw Marcus, holding court in the center of a group of industry bigwigs. At first, they talked about projects. Then, the conversation drifted to their personal lives. Kids, wives, in-laws… and of course, mistresses. “I saw Isabel’s post on social media,” one of them said. “Something about soulmates finally getting together. What’s up? Did you finally wise up and claim her?” My ears perked up. Marcus’s voice was calm. “You guys don’t understand the situation that day. I had no choice. Isabel was forcing my hand. If I didn’t keep her, she was going to quit. You know how important she is to the company. The company can’t run without her. And… you could say I can’t run without her.” “But is Isabel willing to be the other woman? Marcus, be careful you don’t play with fire and get burned.” “Yeah, man, we all saw how much effort you put into marrying that little girl. Forget about whether you can keep your side piece happy, what if your main squeeze finds out? All hell would break loose.” “Not necessarily,” another chimed in. “If Isabel herself doesn’t mind, what right does the little girl have to complain?” “She’s been coddled by Marcus for years. Do you really think she could handle going back to a normal, ordinary life? Even if she found out, she wouldn’t dare make a move. She’ll cling to the ‘Mrs. Kane’ title for dear life. At least it guarantees a life of luxury.” They went back and forth, but the consensus was clear: as long as Marcus could keep Isabel happy and quiet, the one at home wouldn’t dare cause a scene. They even congratulated him on successfully having his cake and eating it too. Jenna’s face was scrunched up in disgust. She leaned over and whispered, “So gross.” Then she added, “I mean, what Mr. Kane is doing is scummy, but they’re not wrong. That girl hasn’t even graduated, right? No family connections, no career of her own… making a scene would only hurt her. What do you think…?” I nodded. “She won’t make a scene. In this day and age, everyone wants to be civilized.” Everything can be discussed calmly. Even divorce. Just then, Marcus put down his glass and spoke. “Yeah,” he said, “Sophie has nothing going for her but her youth. Compared to her, she’s not as sophisticated as Isabel.” “But Isabel has a proud streak. I don’t know how long she’ll be willing to put up with this. I’m starting to regret this marriage. Keeping a young girl on the side costs pennies compared to this. A divorce now would be a massive financial hit.” So, that was it. He was worried about the financial loss. After all, we were legally married. A divorce meant I would get half of his post-marital assets. Fine. I would give him what he wanted. I would walk away with nothing. But he would have to bear the consequences of my departure. 3 The party finally broke up. Isabel came and collected a very drunk Marcus. I watched from a distance as they embraced, their mouths locked together. Perhaps they had been holding back for too long. The moment they got into the car, it began to rock violently. I silently filmed the entire scene. Then, I called my brother. “Hey, little sis! What’s up? What’s got you calling me so late?” The sound of my brother’s voice touched the softest part of my heart. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. A single tear escaped, then another, until they were streaming down my face. “Kiddo, what’s wrong? Are you crying?” I was sobbing too hard to speak. My brother immediately asked where I was. I mumbled an address. Half an hour later, he was there. I was huddled on a curb, shivering. He took off his jacket, draped it over my shoulders, and sat quietly beside me. “Where’s Marcus?” “He’s cheating on me.” My brother froze, his jaw tightening. “Where is he? I’ll kill him.” I grabbed his hand and shook my head. “Don’t. It would only dirty your hands.” My brother stomped his foot on the ground in frustration, but it wasn’t enough to quell his anger. He asked me, “Are you going to divorce him?” I nodded without hesitation. “Is there any chance it’s a misunderstanding?” I showed him the videos and photos on my phone. I didn’t have to say a word. My brother had already made his decision. He immediately took out his phone and made several calls. The first was to his lawyer friend, asking him to draft a divorce agreement for me. The second was to all the suppliers connected to Marcus’s company. He instructed them to cancel any newly negotiated but unsigned contracts, not to renew any expiring ones, and to revoke all discounts on existing contracts, charging full market price from now on. After he finished his calls, my brother took my hand. “Come on, let’s go home.” I shook my head, tears still clinging to my eyelashes. “Before we go home, I want to move out.” My brother didn’t hesitate. He drove me to the house Marcus and I shared. It was a house Marcus had bought. I had no sentimental attachment to it. But I had lived there for three years, and I never thought I would leave like this. “If you want this house, I’ll get you the best lawyer to make sure you get it.” “No, brother. Anything that’s been touched by Marcus… it just feels dirty to me now.” 4 After moving out of the villa, I decided to wait for Marcus to contact me before I laid my cards on the table. Unfortunately, a week passed. He hadn’t even noticed I was gone. He would just send me a daily text: 【Working late again tonight. Don’t wait up.】 But in reality, I saw him and Isabel together every day. Jenna, after her “mistress” comment, was being targeted by our department manager. She was buried under a mountain of work. I couldn’t bear to see her suffer alone, so I stayed late with her every night. When we were working late, we could often hear the soft, decadent sounds that drifted from the CEO’s office. Jenna couldn’t help but complain. “Mr. Kane is so cheap. He won’t even spring for a hotel room.” I gave a wry, bitter smile. “Maybe doing it in the office… adds to the atmosphere.” Passing by, I couldn’t resist. I recorded a few of their more… explicit encounters on my phone. I had a feeling they might come in handy later. I spent the rest of my internship diligently working alongside Jenna. When it was finally over, she told me she wanted to stay on. “It’s hard to find a job out there. And even though I can’t stand Mr. Kane, a girl’s gotta eat.” I wished her luck. She asked me if I wanted to stay. I told her I just wanted to get my internship certificate and get as far away from this toxic place as possible. I never expected that at the last minute, I would be stabbed in the back by my own friend. I was the only intern in our group who didn’t receive a passing evaluation. I was furious. I demanded an explanation from my department head. He simply said it was Isabel’s decision. I thought Isabel must have found out who I was and was targeting me on purpose. I never imagined that Jenna would be the one to confess. “That day… I don’t know who overheard me call Isabel a ‘mistress.’ The word got out, and all this overtime we’ve been doing… it wasn’t from Mr. Davies. It was Isabel targeting us. I was a dead woman, but because you stayed with me and worked late every night, I…” Jenna was sobbing uncontrollably. “I really need this job. I’m not as pretty as you, or as smart as you. So I went to Isabel… and I told her that you were the one who called her a mistress.” “I thought… I thought she would just not offer you a job. I never thought she would refuse to even give you your internship certificate. It’s my fault… I’m so sorry…” I laughed. A laugh born of pure rage. Partly at my friend’s betrayal. But mostly at Isabel, for abusing her power for personal revenge. “It’s okay. I forgive you. Stop crying. Thank you for being my friend during this time. I wish you all the best in the future.” With that, I picked up the folder I had been preparing for a long time and turned to leave. Jenna grabbed my arm, her eyes full of pleading. “The thing with Isabel…” My voice was flat. “Don’t worry. I’ll take the blame for this.” Then, I lifted my head and shouted to the entire office. “She, Isabel Thorne, is a mistress! Why is that so unspeakable!” Instantly, everyone in the office froze, their heads swiveling towards me. Their eyes were wide with shock. And I, holding my failing internship report, marched straight into the conference room. At that moment, all the senior executives and department heads were in their morning meeting. My arrival was clearly unwelcome. The executives frowned, their faces showing their distaste for this impertinent young girl. It was true. In the three years I had been married to Marcus, not a single person in his company knew what Mrs. Kane looked like. Not even Isabel. In the entire room, only Marcus showed a flicker of surprise when he saw me. But he didn’t speak. It was Isabel, the meeting’s moderator, who spoke first. She tilted her head back, her beautiful, sophisticated face a mask of disdain and impatience. “What could possibly be so important that it has to be now?” I didn’t hold back. “Isabel, is it because I called you Mr. Kane’s mistress that you’re deliberately sabotaging me and refusing to issue my internship certificate?” The others in the room looked at Isabel, their expressions shifting to surprise. Isabel froze, likely shocked that a mere intern would be so bold. She narrowed her eyes. “So you know. Then why bother coming in here to ask?” Denying it was pointless. The rumors had already spread throughout the company. To shut people up, she had to make an example of someone. And in her eyes, I was the perfect sacrificial lamb. I met her gaze, my voice rising. “I’m sorry, Isabel. I shouldn’t have said you were Mr. Kane’s mistress!” Isabel’s face flushed with a hint of embarrassment, but she held her ground, crossing her arms and looking down her nose at me. “It’s too late for apologies now!” I looked at Marcus. His face was dark, clearly displeased. But what did he have to be displeased about? He was the one who had lost face first. I sneered. “Oh, it’s not too late. I’m going to set the record straight for you right now!” I pulled open the door behind me, my voice climbing higher and higher. “Of course Isabel isn’t Mr. Kane’s mistress! In the old days, to even be a concubine, you had to be formally brought into the family, you had to bow to me, the primary wife! A woman with no formal acknowledgement is just a side piece! She wouldn’t even be allowed in the family mausoleum!” My declaration made Isabel’s face turn shades of green and white. The others in the room finally realized who I was. As did Isabel. All eyes turned to Marcus. He was seething with rage. In our year of dating and three years of marriage… this was the first time I had ever seen him truly angry. “Have you made enough of a scene?!” How could it be enough? I wanted to be civilized, too. You people didn’t let me! “I have only one demand. Give me my internship certificate!” Marcus’s chest heaved with fury. He was still trying to defend Isabel. “Internship evaluations are determined by the department heads. You shouldn’t be coming to Isabel. You should be talking to your direct supervisor.” Isabel was visibly shaken, but hearing Marcus defend her gave her a sliver of courage. “Yes… that’s right. I’m just Mr. Kane’s assistant. I don’t have the authority to make decisions about interns.” What a pair of fakes. One more pathetic than the other. This was his company. Issuing an internship certificate was a matter of a single word from him. By saying this, he was making it clear that my feelings, my face, meant nothing to him. He was more concerned with protecting Isabel’s image in front of his employees. The moment he spoke, I understood. Marcus had never, not for a single moment, intended to be on my side. Fine. I met his eyes, and without a shred of hesitation, I said, “What if I trade my divorce agreement for it?” I pulled out the papers and laid them on the conference table. I added, “I’ll waive all claims to my share of his assets in exchange for that piece of paper. You’re not losing a thing.”

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1 Five years into their arranged marriage, Olivia and Dodge remained strangers. Their lovemaking was a ritual of politeness. Dodge would kiss her collarbone and murmur, “I’m starting now.” He’d undress her slowly, asking, “Is this okay?” As he entered her, his voice grew hoarse: “Tell me to stop if it hurts.” The bed rocked violently for hours. Olivia gasped, fingers clutching sheets, before whispering, “I’m sorry… it’s been three hours. I can’t take more.” Dodge froze. “My apologies,” he rasped, pulling away with a ragged breath. He pressed a desperate kiss to her forehead before fleeing to the shower. Olivia dressed trembling fingers, covering his marks. She turned on the lamp and pulled out a divorce agreement. Five years. It was time to end this. Everyone in their circle knew the story: the grand merger of the Thorne and Croft empires, sealed by the marriage of their children. Olivia Thorne and Dodge Croft, a model couple, respectful and admired by all. What no one knew was that their hearts belonged to others. Dodge’s heart belonged to his adopted sister, a love forbidden by societal norms. Olivia’s heart belonged to a man who had died five years ago, a love she could never have again. One lost to circumstance, the other to death. On their wedding day, they had confessed everything, agreeing to a five-year contract marriage. It was a shield against family pressure, a business necessity. They would fulfill their duties, nothing more. After five years, they would go their separate ways. Now, five years had passed. It was time. She was waiting for Dodge to emerge from the bathroom to discuss it, but the door suddenly swung open. He strode out, his hair still dripping, and grabbed his car keys. Olivia blinked. “Where are you going so late?” she asked instinctively. Dodge paused, his usually cool voice laced with an uncharacteristic urgency. “Rosie had a nightmare. I have to go be with her. You should get some rest.” Rosie. His adopted sister. His true love. Olivia understood. She never questioned his late-night departures to Rosie’s side, not when Rosie had a car accident, or a fever, or even just cramps. She had adhered strictly to their contract, keeping to her side of the house, never intruding on his time with the woman he loved. But tonight was different. Thinking of the conversation that lay ahead, she had to stop him. “Can you spare five minutes? I have something important to discuss.” Dodge seemed taken aback. “Is it very important?” Olivia paused for a moment before answering softly, “I suppose it is.” He was about to speak when his phone rang. He glanced down. It was Rosie. The moment he answered, her tearful voice came through the line. “Brother, I’m so scared. Are you here yet? I want you to hold me while I sleep…” Dodge’s expression softened instantly. “I’m almost there,” he said, his voice gentle. He hung up and turned back to Olivia, his tone once again polite. “Whatever it is, you can decide. We don’t need to discuss it.” Olivia was momentarily stunned, but then she nodded. She flipped the divorce agreement to the last page and held it out to him. “Then sign this.” Dodge nodded, signed his name without a second glance, and hurried out. As the sound of his car’s engine faded into the distance, Olivia picked up her phone and dialed her lawyer. “The divorce agreement is signed. How long until it’s finalized?” The lawyer’s voice was crisp. “Ms. Thorne, you just need to get through the one-month cooling-off period.” A wave of relief washed over Olivia. After hanging up, she booked a flight to Southshore. There was a reason for Southshore. A few weeks ago, her best friend had spotted a college student in a bar there who bore an uncanny resemblance to Leo. The boy seemed poor, working part-time to make ends meet. Olivia couldn’t bear the thought of someone with Leo’s face suffering like that. Since he needed money and she had plenty, she decided to make him an offer. She sent her friend to negotiate. After a few days of silence, he agreed. The only condition was that he couldn’t leave Southshore; his grandmother was there. Olivia considered it. Her own parents were gone; she had no real family left in this city. So be it. She would move to Southshore. To be able to see that face, so like Leo’s, every day for the rest of her life… surely, that would bring her some measure of happiness. 2 That night, Olivia had a pleasant dream. She woke with a smile still lingering on her lips. The thought of being free from the charade of their respectful marriage, of seeing Leo’s face every day, made her feel light and hopeful. She found herself wishing time would fly, that the cooling-off period would be over in a flash. When she went downstairs, the maid had already prepared breakfast. She had just finished eating and was about to go back upstairs to pack when she heard a commotion at the door. She looked up to see Dodge walking in, followed by Rosie and several bodyguards carrying luggage. Dodge was dressed in a impeccably tailored black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and long legs, giving him an air of cool, aristocratic grace. Rosie, in a white dress, her long hair flowing over her shoulders, clung to his arm with a sweet smile. They looked like a perfect couple, made for each other. Dodge stepped aside to let the bodyguards bring in the luggage, then explained to Olivia, “Rosie’s been having nightmares lately. She only feels safe when I’m around, so I’ve brought her to stay for a while.” He then pulled a small, exquisite box from his pocket and offered it to her. “I had my people bid on this necklace at an auction. Consider it… compensation.” Olivia glanced at the box but didn’t take it. She gently pushed it back. “That’s not necessary. I don’t need compensation. There are plenty of rooms in this house.” Dodge was clearly surprised. “You’re not angry?” Olivia was even more surprised. “Angry about what? In a month, she’ll be moving in for good anyway.” Dodge froze, not understanding her meaning. What did she mean, in a month she’d be moving in for good? Before he could ask, Rosie chimed in, a triumphant, provocative smile on her lips. “Well, thank you then, Ms. Thorne.” She never called Olivia “sister-in-law,” because she never acknowledged her position. Five years ago, when Olivia had first married into the Croft family, Rosie had stormed into their bridal suite with a group of bodyguards and smashed everything to pieces. Her eyes had been red then, like a cornered animal, screaming, “How dare you take my brother from me!” Somehow, Dodge had managed to calm her down, and she hadn’t caused a scene since. Perhaps because, married or not, Dodge’s adoration for Rosie had never wavered. He still took her shopping, soothed her to sleep, and even stayed by her bedside all night when she was sick. He treated his wife, Olivia, as if she were invisible. “Brother, didn’t you say you’d take me to the amusement park after we moved in?” Rosie cooed, shaking Dodge’s arm, her voice dripping with honey. Dodge looked down at her, his eyes so tender they could have melted stone. “Of course. We’ll go in a bit.” He looked up at Olivia, as if about to say something more. But Olivia simply smiled her gentle smile. “You two go on. Just let me know if you’ll be back for dinner, and I’ll have the maids prepare something.” Rosie’s lips curved into a smug smile. “Well, thank you then, Ms. Thorne.” Olivia heard the challenge and triumph in her voice but didn’t react. She just gave a polite nod and went back to her room. She spent the entire day packing. By the time she was finished, it was dark. Dodge and Rosie still weren’t back. Olivia took a shower, changed into her pajamas, and got into bed. Just as she was drifting off to sleep, she heard voices outside her door. “Brother, just sleep with me. I’m scared all alone,” Rosie’s voice, pleading and coquettish. “Rosie, my wife is here. It wouldn’t be right,” Dodge’s voice, still gentle, but tinged with weariness. “What’s not right about it? You love me, and I love you. Olivia Thorne is just a placeholder.” Olivia’s fingers curled slightly, but she didn’t move, her eyes still closed, pretending to be asleep. Outside the door, Dodge was silent for a moment before he said in a low voice, “Rosie, I can be as good to you as I’ve always been. My heart is all yours. But anything else… I can’t. I’m still married. If we were to… it would be bad for your reputation. You just need to know that I’ll always love you.” “Then you’re not allowed to touch her tonight,” Rosie said, her tone demanding. Dodge seemed to say something else, but his voice was too low for Olivia to hear. A moment later, the door opened quietly. Dodge came in. His eyes fell on the suitcases by the bed, a look of surprise on his face. “What’s all this?” Olivia was about to tell him the truth, but then she remembered his words: “Whatever it is, you can decide.” He didn’t even know they were getting divorced. Did she really need to tell him she was moving to Southshore? So she lied. “Just clearing out some things for the new season.” Dodge nodded, asked no more questions, and went into the bathroom. When he came out, he was wearing only a towel, water droplets tracing a path down his chest to his chiseled abs. He walked to the bed and leaned down to kiss her. Olivia, startled, instinctively pushed him away. “Didn’t your sister tell you not to touch me?” Dodge froze. “You heard?” Olivia nodded. Dodge was silent for a moment, then changed the subject. “I want you. Is that okay?” 3 Olivia wanted to refuse, but she remembered their pre-nuptial agreement to fulfill their marital duties. Since the divorce wasn’t final, she relented with a resigned nod. “Fine.” Dodge leaned in, his kiss more forceful than usual. A soft moan escaped Olivia’s lips, her fingers clutching the sheets. For the first time in a long time, Dodge smiled, his voice a low, raspy whisper. “Can’t hold back? I’ll be gentler.” Olivia closed her eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You’re welcome,” he replied, a hint of a smile in his voice, before deepening the kiss. When Olivia awoke, the room was empty. She got up, dressed, and went downstairs to find Dodge gone. Only Rosie was at the dining table, her head bowed over her breakfast. Olivia approached the table and asked politely, “Did you sleep well? Is the breakfast to your liking?” Rosie didn’t answer, didn’t even look up, as if Olivia were invisible. Olivia sighed inwardly. Compared to Dodge, Rosie was utterly ill-mannered. She said no more, silently taking a seat and starting on her own breakfast. But as she took a bite of toast, a wave of nausea washed over her. She shot up from her chair and rushed to the bathroom, dry-heaving over the sink. When she came out, she found Rosie standing at the door, her face a thunderous mask. Her eyes, sharp as daggers, pierced through Olivia. “Are you pregnant?” she hissed. Olivia was stunned. Before she could explain, Rosie snapped. Her voice was shrill with rage. “I tolerated you marrying him, I even tolerated you sleeping with him, but I will not tolerate you having my brother’s child!” She spun around and shouted to the bodyguards at the door, “Hold her down!” Then, to a maid, “Go get the abortion pills!” The maid and bodyguards froze, exchanging terrified glances. No one moved. Rosie’s eyes were bloodshot. “Didn’t my brother tell you to take good care of me before he left? Now you won’t even listen to a word I say? Is this how you take care of me?” The staff, intimidated, finally moved to restrain Olivia. Olivia, finally snapping out of her shock, began to struggle. “You’ve misunderstood! I’m not pregnant, I just have an upset stomach…” But Rosie was beyond reason. Seeing the maid hadn’t returned, she stormed into a room, rummaged through a medicine cabinet, and emerged with a bottle of pills. She marched back to Olivia. “Still trying to deny it? I won’t let you have this baby! I absolutely won’t!” Her voice was wild. She grabbed Olivia’s chin, forcing her mouth open, and shoved the pills down her throat. Olivia shook her head violently, but the pills slid down her throat. A searing pain ripped through her stomach. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and her vision swam. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. She collapsed to the floor, her consciousness fading. When she woke up again, she was in a hospital bed. Through a hazy fog, she heard a doctor’s exasperated voice. “Mr. Croft, your wife wasn’t even pregnant. How could you let someone force-feed her abortion pills? It’s a good thing she was brought in for a stomach pump immediately, otherwise she would have lost half her stomach.” 4 Olivia slowly opened her eyes. The doctor was gone. Dodge was sitting by her bed, his brow furrowed, a guilty look in his eyes. Seeing she was awake, he helped her sit up. “I know what happened. I’m so sorry. I never thought Rosie would do something like this.” Olivia’s stomach was still aching, and she barely had the strength to speak. She sighed softly. “Let the police handle it. She’s not a child anymore. She can’t keep acting this way. A few days in jail might do her some good.” She reached for her phone to call the police, but Dodge snatched it from her. “No. Rosie didn’t mean it. Olivia, please, just let this go.” Olivia stared at him. “So, I went through that for nothing?” Dodge was silent for a long moment before he finally said, “I’m sorry. I’ll compensate you. But Rosie… don’t cause trouble for her.” Olivia looked at him and sighed again. “Don’t you think you spoil her too much?” Dodge shook his head. “If the man you loved were still alive, you wouldn’t want him to suffer even the slightest harm, would you?” Olivia was taken aback. After a long pause, she said softly, “I understand. It won’t happen again.” Even though she had decided to let Rosie off the hook, Dodge felt a strange sense of unease. He stared at her face, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “It’s been so long, and you’re still thinking about him? He’s been dead for years.” Olivia didn’t understand why he was suddenly so agitated. He had always known she loved Leo. She had never interfered with his love for Rosie. Why did he seem so angry about her feelings for Leo now? Before she could answer, Dodge’s phone rang. It was Rosie. After taking the call, he seemed to compose himself, the strange anger from before suppressed. He stood up, once again the polite, distant husband. “Rosie is acting up again. I have to go. I’ll come back to see you when I have time.” As he turned to leave, Olivia couldn’t help but call out to him. “You should tell your sister. She seems very concerned about whether I’ll get pregnant. But I can’t. On the first day we were together, I had my tubes tied.” Dodge stopped dead in his tracks. He spun around, his face a mask of disbelief. “What did you say?!” Olivia was even more surprised by his reaction. In their five years of marriage, he had always been so composed, his face a carefully controlled mask. But today, he had been so uncharacteristically emotional. “I would never have a child with anyone but Leo,” she said. “Surely, you can understand that.” Dodge’s face darkened, as if he were fighting back some powerful emotion. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You will go and have that procedure reversed. Immediately.” Sensing her reluctance, he added, “It’s a marital duty.” Olivia shook her head. “But we’re in the process of getting a divorce. I no longer have any marital duties to fulfill.” 5 Olivia finally told Dodge the truth, but he didn’t hear it. Just as she was speaking, Rosie called again, demanding his attention. He murmured something soothing into the phone and hurried away. Olivia sighed, but there was no real turmoil in her heart. She was used to this. In Dodge’s world, Rosie was always the top priority. For the next few days, Dodge sent a maid with meals and hired a nurse to care for her. He didn’t appear in person, but his arrangements were thoughtful. The only downside was the constant buzzing of her phone. It was Rosie, sending a barrage of provocative photos: Dodge taking her shopping, buying her jewelry, dining at fancy restaurants. Each photo was accompanied by a caption bragging about his affection. Olivia looked at the photos without a trace of jealousy. She simply forwarded each one to Dodge with a note: “From your sister.” After a long silence, Dodge replied politely: “I’m sorry. I’ll handle it.” Olivia responded: “Okay. Thank you.” She thought their conversation was over, but then another message came through: “Did you have the tubal ligation reversed? Please do it as soon as possible.” Olivia stared at the message, baffled by his sudden obsession with the matter. They were getting divorced. She wasn’t going to have his child. Why was he so insistent? She put her phone down and didn’t reply. On the day of her discharge, Dodge came to pick her up himself. When Olivia opened the car door, she saw Rosie sitting in the passenger seat. Rosie turned, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Brother and I are going to an auction later. I get carsick, so I’m afraid you’ll have to take the back seat, Ms. Thorne.” Olivia said nothing, silently getting into the back. As soon as she was in, she heard Dodge’s low voice, directed at Rosie, “Did you forget what I told you before?” Rosie pouted and reluctantly turned to Olivia. “I’m sorry, Ms. Thorne. I was too impulsive before. I’m sorry I put you in the hospital.” Olivia was surprised by the apology. Then she saw Rosie’s swollen lips and Dodge’s weary expression and understood. Dodge, who had always refused to cross that line with Rosie, had kissed her to appease her and make her apologize. Olivia kept this observation to herself, simply nodding. Dodge glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Did you have that procedure reversed?” Olivia didn’t know why he kept asking, but she answered calmly, “Yes.” It was true that she hadn’t wanted children before. But now, things were different. She thought of the young student who looked so much like Leo. A lifetime was a long time. Perhaps having a child who looked like Leo wouldn’t be so bad. Dodge misinterpreted her reason. He nodded, a hint of a smile in his eyes, as if he were pleased. He continued, “I’m taking Rosie to an auction later. Olivia, you should come with us.” Olivia was about to refuse, but then she thought about how long it had been since she’d been out, and she agreed. At the auction, Dodge bought almost everything Rosie pointed at—jewelry, paintings, antiques, each one worth a fortune. People around them whispered, “Mr. Croft is so good to his adopted sister. Better than he is to his own wife.” Hearing this, Dodge turned to Olivia and asked gently, “Is there anything you want? I’ll buy it for you.” Olivia was about to shake her head when she saw the watch being presented on stage. It was a classic men’s watch, simple and elegant. She thought it would look wonderful on Leo. But he could never wear it. But… she could buy it for the student who looked so much like him. She raised her paddle. “Three million.” In that moment, Dodge’s expression shifted. He had been buying things for Rosie all night, and nothing for Olivia. And yet, the one thing she wanted was a watch for him? A complex emotion washed over him, and his gaze on her softened. 6 Seeing the look in Dodge’s eyes, Rosie’s face fell. “Five million!” she declared, raising her own paddle. “Six million!” “Seven million!” The price soared as they went back and forth. Finally, Olivia placed a winning bid that stunned the entire room into silence. Everyone assumed she had bought the watch for Dodge, and they sighed in admiration. “Ms. Thorne is truly devoted to Mr. Croft!” When the watch was brought to her, Dodge draped his jacket over her shoulders and whispered, “Thank you. Why don’t you put it on me?” Olivia froze, about to explain that the watch wasn’t for him, but his phone rang. A work emergency. He had to leave immediately, telling the driver to take Olivia and Rosie home. Since she had what she came for, Olivia saw no reason to stay. She turned to leave. As she was getting into the car, she looked back for Rosie, but saw her giving a subtle signal to a bodyguard. A sense of unease washed over her. The next moment, a sharp blow landed on the back of her neck. Darkness. When she woke up, she was in a walk-in freezer. The air was frigid, her hands and feet numb with cold. Rosie stood outside, watching her through the glass door. “Olivia, don’t think a silly little watch will win my brother’s heart. He will only ever love me.” Olivia didn’t know how to explain. She was shivering, her voice weak. “You’ve misunderstood. The watch wasn’t for your brother.” Rosie scoffed. “If not for him, then who? You can stay in here and think about it. This is your punishment for desiring my brother.” With that, she smashed the watch on the floor and walked away. “Rosie! Rosie!” Even with her placid temperament, Olivia was furious. Why did Rosie keep targeting her? Dodge must have told her their marriage was just a business arrangement. She had heard him profess his love for Rosie time and time again. If she had known how unstable Rosie was, she never would have agreed to this marriage. The freezer door was sealed shut. Her phone had no signal, its screen coated in a thin layer of ice. The cold was like a thousand tiny needles, piercing her skin, her bones. Just as she felt herself losing consciousness, she heard a loud bang. The freezer door had been kicked open. Dodge was running towards her. When she woke up again, she was in her own bed. Dodge sat beside her, his eyes full of guilt and exhaustion. “I’m sorry. I never thought Rosie would do something like this again.” Olivia, pale and weak, asked softly, “And this time, I can’t hold her accountable either, can I?” Dodge hesitated. “I’ve already punished her.” “What was the punishment?” He hesitated again, his voice strained. “I… made her skip a meal.” Olivia stared at him, stunned. A long moment passed before she said, “I see.” Dodge watched her, his voice probing. “You’re not angry?” “I am,” she said, her voice tired but calm. “But then I think, if Leo made a mistake, I wouldn’t have the heart to punish him either. I suppose that’s what love is. You love your sister too much, just as I love Leo too much.” Dodge’s expression changed. He shot to his feet, a storm of emotions in his eyes—anger, and something else, something like loss. Olivia watched him, confused by his strong reaction. She waited for him to speak, but he just stood there, his lips moving, finally managing to force out the words, “Can we not mention him anymore?” 7 Olivia was stunned. “Why?” Dodge’s voice was low, strained. “Because I don’t like it.” She didn’t understand, but she didn’t ask. She just lowered her head and sighed. “Alright. For the next seven days, I won’t mention him.” Dodge frowned. “Why seven days?” “Because in seven days, our marriage will be over.” But her words were drowned out by Rosie, who burst into the room, pouting. “Brother, you’ve coddled her enough. What about me? You punished me for another woman. I’m still hungry.” For once, Dodge sounded angry. “Stop it, Rosie.” Rosie’s eyes welled with tears. “You don’t love me anymore, do you? Fine, I’m leaving!” She ran out, her eyes red. Dodge watched her go, his brow furrowed in frustration. He turned to Olivia. “I’ll go check on her.” Olivia nodded. As she watched them leave, she heard a loud thud from outside. Her heart sank. She got out of bed and rushed out to see Rosie lying on the road, covered in blood. A car was stopped nearby, the driver getting out in a panic. Dodge was kneeling beside Rosie, his face a ghostly white. “Rosie, don’t scare me…” he stammered, then scooped her up and sped towards the hospital. Olivia stood frozen for a moment, then hailed a taxi and followed. Rosie was rushed into surgery. A short while later, a doctor came out, his expression grim. “She’s lost a lot of blood. We need to give her a transfusion, but the blood bank is low. What are we going to do?” Dodge immediately rolled up his sleeve. “Take mine. We have the same blood type.” A nurse led him away. They drew the maximum safe amount, 400cc, but it wasn’t enough. As the nurse was about to stop, Dodge grabbed her hand. “Keep going,” he rasped. “We can’t…” “I said, keep going!” The nurse looked at Olivia in desperation. “Ms. Thorne, please, talk some sense into him. Any more and his own health will be at risk.” Olivia didn’t know what to say. “Dodge, do you love her more than your own life?” His face was cold, his answer immediate. “Yes.” Olivia was silent for a moment, then turned to the nurse. “I can’t convince him. Do as he says.” The nurse, frantic but seeing she had no choice, continued to draw blood. After 1000cc, Dodge was as pale as a sheet, unable to stand. But he refused to leave the surgery waiting area. “I’ll wait here,” Olivia said, afraid he might collapse. “You go rest.” He shook his head, his red-rimmed eyes fixed on the operating room doors. “No. I have to be here.” Olivia said no more, just stood by his side. When the doctor finally came out and announced that Rosie was out of danger, Dodge’s body swayed, and he fainted. 8 Olivia had thought that if she could just get through the next few days, she would be free. But now, with both Dodge and Rosie in the hospital, she found herself caring for both of them. It was exhausting, made worse by Rosie’s constant demands. One moment she was complaining about the porridge and throwing it on Olivia’s hand, the next she was craving a dessert from a bakery across town in the middle of the night. Olivia knew Rosie was doing it on purpose, but with only a few days of their marriage left, she decided to endure it. Dodge, seeing her patience, felt a pang of guilt. “You’ve worked so hard these past few days. I’ll make it up to you. What do you want?” Olivia shook her head. “Nothing, thank you.” But Dodge seemed determined. Once he had recovered a little, he hired a nurse for Rosie and took Olivia out. He took her to an amusement park, a place they had never been in their five years of marriage. He bought her ice cream, rode the Ferris wheel with her, and even took pictures of her on the carousel. They went to a movie, had a candlelit dinner—all the things a normal couple would do. She wanted to tell him she didn’t like these things, that he didn’t have to do them, but seeing him so immersed in the moment, she kept silent. When they returned to the hospital, Rosie was waiting at the door, her face dark. “Did my brother take you on a date?” she demanded. Before Olivia could explain, Rosie’s voice rose hysterically. “Don’t think this means he’s falling for you! I’ll show you, Olivia, that in his heart, I will always come first! No one can compare to me, especially not you!” Olivia was about to say that she already knew this, but Rosie suddenly pressed a cloth to her face. The world went black. When she woke up, she was dangling from a rope over a cliff. The wind howled, and waves crashed against the rocks below. Her wrists were raw from the coarse rope. Next to her, Rosie was also hanging from a rope, a triumphant smile on her face. “I hired an actor to pretend to be a kidnapper. My brother will be here soon. Who do you think he’ll save?” Olivia’s voice was weary. “You.” Rosie scoffed. “At least you know your place.” Olivia didn’t know what to say. How could Dodge love someone like Rosie? Soon, Dodge arrived, his face pale with panic. He threw a suitcase of money at the “kidnapper’s” feet, but the man sneered. “I’m not here for money. You can only save one. Choose.” “I’ll save both!” Dodge cried. “Choose now, or they both die,” the man said, brandishing a knife. Dodge’s eyes darted between Olivia and Rosie, his face a mask of turmoil. As the man was about to cut the ropes, he finally made his choice. “Save Rosie!” He looked at Olivia, his voice strained. “She just had a car accident, her body is weak, I…” Olivia smiled, her voice calm. “It’s okay. Even if she hadn’t, you would have chosen her.” Dodge’s heart clenched, as if pierced by her words. Before he could speak, the man cut Olivia’s rope. She plunged into the icy sea below. “Olivia!” She woke up in the hospital again, her wrists bandaged, her face ashen. Dodge sat beside her, looking exhausted and guilty. “I’ve investigated. It was Rosie again. I promise, this will be the last time. I’ll make it up to you, Olivia. What do you want? And don’t say nothing.” Olivia looked at him, her eyes like still water. “Go be with Rosie. She must have been scared too.” Dodge’s eyes widened in shock. “That’s the compensation you want?” She nodded. “Yes. The more you’re with her, the less she’ll bother me.” Dodge’s throat felt tight. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll go see her, then I’ll come back.” He tucked the blanket around her and left. Olivia watched him go and shook her head. No need. Because today, I’m leaving for good. After Dodge left, Olivia ignored the nurse’s protests, pulled out her IV, and checked out of the hospital. Her flight was at eleven; she had two hours to tie up loose ends. She rushed to the courthouse and got her divorce certificate. Then she went back to the villa and left the certificate, the divorce agreement, and her wedding ring on the coffee table where he would see them. Finally, she picked up her packed luggage, left the key, and walked out of the villa. Standing at the gate, she took one last look at the house she had lived in for five years. “Goodbye, Dodge.” The five years were finally over.

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Just as the serial killer was about to slip through our fingers, I, the city’s lead forensic psychologist, was in a psychiatric ward, playing chess with an old man. My phone buzzed. It was Lily, the deceptively sweet new consultant, her voice a desperate plea. “Dr. Reed, you’re the only one who can build a psychological profile fast enough to predict his escape route! We need you back at the precinct, now! Before it’s too late!” I hung up and sent her a photo of my recent diagnosis: Delusional Disorder. My reply was simple: “Sorry. Doctor’s orders. I’m not going anywhere.” In my last life, I’d practically lived at the crime scenes, working myself to the bone until I finally cracked the killer’s pattern and pinpointed his escape route. But when the tactical team swarmed the location, he was already gone. Miles away, another victim was found. “Some lead consultant,” they’d sneered. “A fraud in a fancy suit.” “If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen! Her incompetence just cost a woman her life!” My world had shattered. I tried to defend myself, to show them my notes, my meticulous chain of logic, but the pages I presented were a chaotic, nonsensical mess. It wasn’t my work. Then my husband, Mark, stood before the review board and revealed my “history of mental illness.” They committed me. The family of the last victim believed I was the one to blame. One of them snuck into the hospital and strangled the life out of me in my bed. Even as my vision faded to black, I couldn’t understand it. I wasn’t sick. My profile of the killer hadn’t been wrong. I knew it. After my death, Lily took my place. The media hailed her as a brilliant prodigy, a “Goddess of the Mind.” Not long after, she and my husband, Mark, found love “forged in the crucible of justice,” as the tabloids put it. They became the power couple of law enforcement. Now, I’ve opened my eyes again, and I’m back. Back on the very day it all began. “Dr. Reed, your latest paper just got published in that prestigious international journal! You owe us all drinks tonight.” Lily’s familiar voice chirped from behind me. My body went rigid as I turned to face her. It was only the second day of my new life, and the whiplash was still severe. Oblivious to my state, Lily leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I heard the precinct is handing us the ‘Rainy Day Ripper’ case. This is the big one, Evie.” She smiled. “If you crack this, it’ll be your 689th solved homicide. You’ll shatter the all-time record.” I drew a sharp breath, but the words caught in my throat. Seeing my pale face, Lily pressed a thermos into my hands. “You’re so lucky to have a husband like Mark,” she said, her eyes shining with what I now knew was counterfeit envy. I unscrewed the lid. The thick, cloying scent of herbs and greasy chicken fat—Mark’s special “restorative broth” he insisted I drink to keep my strength up—assaulted my nostrils. The smell was so viscerally familiar that a cold shudder ran down my spine. In my last life, after Mark had me committed, the nurses would hold me down, forcing handfuls of chalky white pills into my mouth. I would never forget the bitter taste that seemed to seep into my very soul. Now, as I raised the thermos, the salty, greasy broth hit my tongue, and beneath it, I tasted it again—that same haunting, chemical bitterness. The soup was drugged. My mind flashed back. On that fateful day, I’d been too consumed by the case to eat. It was Lily who had opened this very thermos, smiling, watching me drink every last drop. A primal revulsion took over. I lurched forward, vomiting the mouthful of soup onto the floor. “Evie!” Lily cried, aghast. “Mark worked so hard on that for you! How could you just spit it out?” After I’d heaved the last of it, I slowly raised my head, my eyes locking onto hers. I had trained her, mentored her, treated her like a little sister. I’d bought her birthday gifts, celebrated her small victories, given her every piece of myself I could share. And this was how she repaid me. A viper I had warmed at my own hearth. It’s always the ones you least suspect, the ones you let inside your walls, who can deliver the fatal blow. Lily was one. And Mark… Mark was the other. My own husband, under the guise of caring for me, had been slowly poisoning my mind. He’d laid the groundwork for my downfall, so that when the time was right, he could be the first to declare me insane, citing a non-existent “family history” of mental illness. I looked at the girl tugging at my sleeve, feigning concern, and my heart filled with a cold, desolate grief. I finally knew the source of my “madness” from my past life. But that still didn’t explain the other piece of the puzzle. How had my profile of the killer been so wrong? My intuition, honed over hundreds of cases, screamed at me that there was more to it. Something I still wasn’t seeing. “Mark made me promise to watch you finish it,” Lily pouted, her big, innocent eyes pleading with me. Just then, the office door creaked open, and Professor Albright, my old mentor, peeked his head in. “Ah, Lily, what’s all the commotion?” His gaze fell to the thermos on my desk, and a strange, knowing look flickered in his eyes. “Mark is such a devoted husband. Always making sure his brilliant wife is taken care of.” I picked up the thermos. Meeting both Lily’s and the professor’s expectant stares, I poured the broth into three separate mugs. “I’d feel terrible drinking this all by myself,” I said with a thin smile. “Since you’re both here, you should try some of Mark’s handiwork.” I offered the mugs to them. Their faces froze. A wave of panic washed over them, so palpable it was almost visible. I watched them, my gaze unwavering, dissecting every twitch, every flicker of fear. Their hands trembled as they took the mugs. They’d lift them towards their lips, then hesitate, lowering them again. Lily was ghost-white, unable to even look at the soup. The truth was as clear as day. I let out a sigh and downed the remaining broth in my own mug in one go. “It’s gotten cold anyway. Too greasy,” I announced, forcing a grimace. “Let’s not bother. I’ll have Mark make a fresh batch for you all another time.” They practically fled the office, their footsteps echoing down the hall as they scrambled to get away. Once I was sure they were gone, I ran to the restroom and forced myself to throw up, rinsing my mouth until the bitter taste was gone. Professor Albright. In my last life, I’d suspected everyone but him—the fair, the just, the man who had shaped my entire career. But his face just now told me everything. He knew. He was a part of it. But why? The question echoed in the hollows of my mind. As I stood there, lost in thought, a text from Mark lit up my phone. “The Rainy Day Ripper case is yours. You HAVE to solve it. This is my shot at the Deputy Director position. Don’t screw it up.” A chill, colder than any winter frost, settled deep in my bones. It was him. For a promotion, he had pushed me to take the case, only to throw me to the wolves when the operation failed, branding me a lunatic. I thought of our life together, from college sweethearts to this… this venomous betrayal. A lump formed in my throat, and I fought back the tears that threatened to fall. My protégée. My mentor. My husband. They all wanted the same thing: to see me ruined, disgraced, and utterly destroyed. But how had they orchestrated it all? I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. The sharp sting of pain forced me to focus, to replay every single detail of my last life. No matter how many times I went over it, I couldn’t find the flaw in my logic. I spread my old notes out on the desk, the key data points from the case laid bare. I ran the simulations again and again. I was certain. My profile had been perfect. As I stared blankly at the papers, Lily scurried back into my office, a sealed evidence file in her hand. “Everyone was fighting for this one, Dr. Reed,” she said, her voice bright and cheerful. “I made sure to grab it for you.” She placed the file on my desk like a prize. My phone chimed again. Another text from Mark. “Eve, I already told my parents about the promotion. You have to land this case. For us.” Lily stood before me, her eyes wide with anticipation, waiting for me to accept. I couldn’t meet her gaze. I turned away. “Lily, I’m not feeling well. I need to rest. We can talk about this later.” A flicker of annoyance crossed her face, but she masked it quickly with a flurry of feigned concern before finally leaving. The moment she was gone, I was out the door. I hailed a cab and headed straight for the best psychiatric hospital in the city. On the way, I sent a text to a trusted friend—a retired detective—with the key profile points on the suspect. His reply came back almost instantly, followed by a series of photos. There he was: the man I had identified, a disheveled figure in a dark rain slicker, lurking near the crime scenes late at night. It was him. This was the man who had not only murdered a dozen young women but had also become the final nail in my coffin. But how did he know my plan? Who would go so far as to leak operational details to a serial killer, just to destroy me? My mind raced, a maelstrom of confusion and dawning horror. As I glanced in the car’s rearview mirror, an idea sparked, so shocking and so perfect that it took my breath away. Could that be it? I had the driver pull over. My fingers flew across the screen as I typed out my new theory, a detailed breakdown of the conspiracy, and sent it to my friend. His reply was two simple words: On it. Just to be safe, I made one more call—to a private investigator I’d used before. I gave him three targets to tail: Lily, Mark, and Professor Albright.

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My boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart, Hannah, used my credit card to fund scholarships, building herself a reputation as a beautiful, kind-hearted heiress. So when the class fundraiser money went missing and turned up in my locker, my boyfriend, Max, looked at me with a heartbroken expression and said, “Vivian, just confess. I’ll wait for you.” I tried to explain, but no one believed me. The entire class pointed their fingers at me. I was sent to prison, framed for a crime I didn’t commit. On their way to present evidence that would clear my name, my parents died in a car crash. With me out of the way, Max seized control of my family’s company and announced his marriage to Hannah. I died in that prison cell, consumed by despair. When I open my eyes, I’m back on the day Hannah pays for the scholarships. … “The university is organizing a fundraiser for students on financial aid! Is anyone interested in donating?” The familiar words sent a jolt through my entire body. I stared at the professor on the podium, talking about the benefits of the program—extra credit, honors, a leg up on grad school applications—and I knew. I was back. The next second, Hannah shot to her feet. “Professor, I’ll donate fifty thousand dollars,” she announced, “to go towards living stipends for the scholarship students.” A collective gasp went through the lecture hall. “Fifty thousand? Hannah, are you serious?” Hannah lifted her chin, deliberately showing off the designer necklace gracing her neck. “It’s only fifty grand. Do I look like I’m joking?” The room erupted in applause. “Hannah, you’re literally a princess! So generous and kind,” gushed Laura, my roommate and Hannah’s biggest sycophant. “You’re always so down-to-earth, but when it really matters, you step up. Not like some people, who just parade around with their Chanel bags trying to show off.” She shot a pointed glare at the backpack sitting behind me. I only liked the bag because it was spacious. My family’s housekeeper used the same one for groceries. Compared to the exclusive, custom-made pieces in my closet, this one was laughably plain. In my last life, I had been the anonymous donor who had sponsored Hannah through a private fund my father set up. I’d even given her a supplementary card linked to my account. At first, the charges were small—a few hundred here, a few thousand there. I didn’t think much of it. So when she announced she was donating $50,000, I was a little annoyed, but I didn’t say anything. After all, my family donated millions to charity every year. Because of that one act, Hannah became the campus’s philanthropic angel, while I was branded a vain, materialistic snob. Then, the class fundraiser money vanished. It was Hannah who led a search party to my locker, where they “found” it. And it was Max who stood before everyone and sealed my fate. “Vivian, go to the police. I’ll wait for you.” I was ostracized, expelled, and thrown in jail. The university gave my guaranteed spot in the graduate program to Hannah. When my parents died trying to save me, I just… gave up. After my death, I watched as Max used illegal means to take over my family’s corporation and proposed to Hannah with a fleet of nine hundred helicopters. They became the internet’s most adored power couple, their happiness built on the blood of my family. Rage, hot and sharp, coiled in my gut, and I clenched my fists until my knuckles were white. Basking in the praise, Hannah gave a modest wave. “Oh, it’s not that big of a deal. I just want to do my part to help others.” Then, her eyes landed on my bag, her gaze loaded with meaning. “Vivian, that bag looks… familiar. I know it’s normal for women to want nice things, but please, don’t let your vanity ruin your life.” I ignored her and looked directly at the professor. “Professor, I’ll also donate fifty thousand dollars.” He glanced at me, his eyes filled with disbelief. “Are you sure, Vivian? Once your name is down, the pledge is binding. If you can’t follow through, you’ll lose all academic honors, your club positions, and your grad school recommendation. You need to think this through. Don’t make a reckless decision you’ll regret.” Hannah grabbed my arm, her face a mask of frantic concern. “Vivian, if you’re only doing this to compete with me, then I won’t donate! I can’t bear to watch you destroy your future because of me. I’d never forgive myself.” Hearing this, the scholarship students in the class panicked and turned on me. “Vivian, you are so unbelievably selfish! Are you really going to take away our funding just to satisfy your own ego?” “Do you have any idea how hard we’ve worked to get here? We skip meals just to save money! This donation was our one chance at a normal life, and you’re going to ruin it with your stupid bluff? You’re a monster!” “Keep your vanity to yourself! Why do you have to drag us down with you? People like you are a disgrace to this university! Get out!” One of the more hot-headed students lunged at me, grabbing my arm and yanking me out of my seat. I stumbled and fell hard on the floor. As more students started to surge forward, the professor finally intervened, shouting threats of expulsion to get the situation under control. He turned to me, his expression laced with disappointment. “Vivian, charity is a wonderful thing, but you must act within your means. For your own good, it’s best you sit this one out.” My jaw tightened. “Professor,” I said, my voice cold, “I don’t believe you have the right to make that decision for me.” Hannah immediately jumped in. “Professor, please don’t be hard on Vivian. It’s fine, I just won’t participate.” Her words were perfectly crafted to sound as if I were bullying her into withdrawing her offer. I was speechless. The students who had just been restrained exploded again. “Just get out of here, Vivian! Stop putting on a show! You think you have that kind of money?” “Yeah, we don’t want your donation anyway! We don’t need your pity money!” “Pah! I wouldn’t take a cent from you! We’d rather starve!” “Professor, we all formally request that Vivian be barred from donating!” The professor’s gaze was hard as steel. “Vivian, you need to respect the wishes of your peers. Don’t be so selfish.” I let out a bitter laugh and swept my eyes over the crowd. “Fine. I won’t donate. But remember—you’re the ones who told me not to.” The scholarship students immediately turned to Hannah, their faces alight with hope. “Hannah, Vivian has backed down. No one is pressuring you now. Is your offer of fifty thousand still on the table?” Hannah shot me a triumphant, challenging look. “Of course it is.” The professor moved to her side, his voice gentle. “Hannah, if you’re certain, just sign this pledge form. The funds need to be transferred to the university’s account within three days.” Hannah picked up the pen and, without a moment’s hesitation, signed her name with a flourish. After class, I was heading back to my dorm when I saw Max and Hannah standing near the entrance. He was laughing, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. The moment he saw me, his face went cold. “Vivian, I heard you made a scene in class today, trying to one-up someone by pledging fifty grand. When did you become so desperate for attention?” Seeing my expression darken, he softened his tone. “Look, I’m just saying this for your own good. My family is comfortable, but fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money. Were you planning on draining your parents’ savings account just to satisfy your ego? You should be grateful Hannah was there to stop you before you made a huge mistake. You need to thank her properly. She saw a necklace she really likes… it’s only about three grand. You should get it for her.” I stared at him, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “Max, if you don’t have a mirror, I suggest you find a puddle. You want me to spend my money on a gift for your little childhood friend? Your ego is bigger than your brain.” Max froze, clearly stunned. The old Vivian would have done anything to please him. Three grand was nothing if it kept him happy. Not anymore. I’d rather give my money to a homeless person on the street than spare him another dime. His face turned thunderous. “Vivian, do you have any idea what you’re saying?” I widened my eyes, feigning innocence. “Oh, was I not speaking English? Do you need a translator?” His face flushed with rage. Hannah stepped forward, her voice trembling with manufactured hurt. “Vivian, I know you don’t like me. I’ll stay away from you and Max from now on. Please don’t be angry with him because of me.” Max’s glare was icy. “Stop being so jealous, Vivian. I’ve told you, Hannah is like a sister to me. You spend thousands on a single bag. What’s the big deal about buying her one piece of jewelry? She’s going to be your sister-in-law one day.” I stared at Hannah for a long moment. “Is her mouth lined with gold? A few words from her are worth three thousand dollars? Is she worth it?” Hannah’s eyes immediately filled with tears. Max’s face contorted with fury. “That’s it, Vivian, you’ve gone too far! Hannah saved you fifty thousand dollars! Buying her a thank-you gift is the least you can do! If you won’t do it, then we’re through!” A genuine smile spread across my face. “Great! We’re done. See you never.” I turned and sprinted back to my dorm, faintly hearing him screaming behind me, yelling that I would regret this. The first thing I did when I got to my room was freeze the supplementary card. Let’s see where you get fifty thousand dollars from now, Hannah.

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