My husband was on his way to the attorney’s office with his mistress to finalize our divorce when a car crash turned him into a vegetable. Now, in the sterile hospital room, his mistress was sobbing over his bed, playing the role of the devoted wife far better than I ever did. I scoffed under my breath. “Serves you right.” Shut up! I stared at my comatose husband in absolute shock. I could actually hear his inner thoughts. A chill crawled up my spine. Terrified, I instinctively shrank back, bumping right into the chest of the tall, broad-shouldered man standing behind me. 1 Through the thin fabric of his cotton shirt, I could feel the hard, defined lines of his abs. “Nice build,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Rowan cleared his throat, taking a shy step back as a faint flush of pink crept up his pale neck. Rowan was a junior partner at a law firm. I had originally hired him to handle the asset division for my divorce, but after the accident, he had insisted on accompanying me to the hospital. We had only communicated through emails and phone calls before today. Seeing him in person, I realized he perfectly fit the modern ideal of a man, built like a predator but with the gentle, protective demeanor of a golden retriever. Right then, a furious roar echoed in my ears. Joanna! We are not divorced yet! The realization hit me again. I had somehow awakened a telepathic connection, but only with my brain-dead husband. Victor had always been so stingy with his words during our marriage, treating every conversation with me like a chore. Who knew turning into a vegetable would make him so damn noisy. I glanced at Scarlett, who was practically draped over Victor’s motionless body, and rolled my eyes. What a hypocrite. The doctor had explained that a blood clot was pressing against Victor’s neurological pathways, causing the coma. The good news was that he could wake up. The bad news was the timeline. It could be months, or it could be years. He told us to prepare for the worst. Before leaving the room, the doctor had cast a very knowing look at Scarlett. She was an actress. Back when she was a nobody, Victor’s company had spent a fortune to sign her as their brand ambassador. She had just recently snagged a Best Actress award at an indie film festival. The doctor had definitely recognized her. Seeing a famous actress weeping hysterically over another woman’s husband painted a very clear picture. Scarlett’s sobs hitched in her throat. Catching my stare, she glared at me with venomous eyes. “What are you looking at? If it weren’t for that crash, I’d be the legal Mrs. Blackwood right now.” She wasn’t wrong. Victor had planned to sign the divorce papers with me and immediately drive to city hall to marry Scarlett. Just a few days ago, Scarlett had posted a photo on her Instagram story hinting that her “happily ever after” was coming. The picture showed two hands intertwined, sporting matching diamond engagement bands. It was Victor’s hand. There was a tiny, faint mole on his index finger. It was small, but to me, it had been blindingly obvious. 2 Years ago, right out of college, Victor had big dreams for a tech startup but absolutely no capital. Some arrogant venture capitalists had invited him to a dinner party, expecting him to beg. Victor had walked out, claiming he didn’t need investors who required their egos stroked with expensive whiskey. His arrogance cost him dearly. Soon enough, his little company couldn’t even make payroll. Drunk and defeated, he had collapsed into my arms, asking why no one could see the genius of his business model. Why were there no real visionaries out there? I held him tight and told him they were coming. Not long after, an anonymous angel investor pumped millions into his startup in exchange for thirty percent of the equity. With that lifeline, Victor’s company skyrocketed. I stood by him for three grueling years. He hated corporate networking, so I became the one attending the galas, drinking executives under the table until I was numb. On those nights, he would hold me with red-rimmed eyes, swearing to the heavens that he would never betray me. Together, we turned a third-rate startup into a publicly traded empire. But as the money rolled in, the resentment grew. On countless late nights, he would whisper his frustrations into the dark. “Jo, every time I look at the company ledgers, I think about that thirty percent we gave away for just a few million. It makes me sick.” He always said it with a laugh, but the undertone of regret and blame was heavy enough to make me feel overwhelmingly guilty. So, after we got married, the moment he uttered the words “let me take care of you,” I handed in my resignation. I happily traded my tailored suits for the life of a full-time housewife. I wore my wedding band every single day. Victor, on the other hand, casually tossed his onto his nightstand, claiming it dug into his skin when he typed. That was the cause of our first real screaming match. We were standing under the massive crystal chandelier in our foyer. He was dressed in a bespoke Italian suit, looking every inch the refined billionaire. I was standing there in a stained apron with messy hair, looking like a hysterical maid. He had yanked at his silk tie with a look of pure disgust. “Joanna, let’s just cool off, okay? We’ll talk later.” The roar of his sports car engine echoed through the driveway. He didn’t come home for a week. Eventually, I was the one who caved. It wasn’t that the ring was uncomfortable. He just didn’t want to wear it for me. The ocean took my parents when I was young. I had told Victor time and time again that he was the only family I had left in this world. But his grand promise of forever barely lasted five years. He used to say that if he ever broke my heart, God could strike him down. I just didn’t expect karma to work so efficiently. 3 During the crash, Victor had thrown himself over Scarlett to shield her, taking the brunt of the impact. As soon as the doctor’s footsteps faded down the hall, Scarlett’s tears magically evaporated. She stood up so abruptly that the metal chair scraped violently against the linoleum floor. Trapped in the dark, Victor heard the noise and panicked. Joanna! What happened to Scarlett? Is she okay? Rowan, clearly sensing the toxic atmosphere, mumbled an excuse about checking some paperwork and slipped out of the room. Scarlett grabbed her designer bag and stormed out right after him. Now, it was just me and Victor. When I didn’t say a word, Victor’s internal voice grew frantic, losing any trace of decency. Joanna, I swear to God, if you dare touch a single hair on her head, I will make your life a living hell! “Really?” I pulled up a chair and sat down, staring at the empty space next to his bed. A sudden urge to mess with him bubbled up in my chest. “How exactly is a vegetable going to make my life hell?” I leaned in closer. “Victor, Scarlett just collapsed. She’s lying right here on the floor. But you know what? I don’t think I’m going to press the call button. I wonder how long it’ll take for her to wake up on her own.” His psychic roar nearly shattered my eardrums. You psychotic bitch! You knew she was pregnant, didn’t you? I never realized how utterly evil you were, Joanna. You’d actually kill an unborn child! So Scarlett was pregnant. No wonder he had risked his life to play the hero. Something warm and wet slid down my cheek. I honestly thought I was entirely numb to Victor by now, that his words couldn’t possibly carve any more pieces out of my heart. “Victor.” My voice was ice cold, cutting right through his panicked thoughts. “We had a child once, too. You were the one who killed her.” After the wedding, Victor lived at the office. I hated having maids or strangers in the house, so most days, I was completely alone in that massive, echoing mansion. I just wanted a baby to keep me company. Victor had hated the idea. He fed me a million excuses. He was too busy. He didn’t have time for a kid. We were still young and needed to enjoy our time together. Eventually, I wore him down. He agreed. But after months of trying, my tests kept coming back negative. I secretly went to a fertility clinic, convinced my body was broken. I drank vile herbal teas and took every supplement on the market. Nothing worked. Then, one afternoon, I found a prescription bottle hidden in his gym bag. That was how I learned Victor had been taking male contraceptives the entire time. He couldn’t win the argument with words, so he controlled my body in secret. The betrayal and his deliberate emotional distance pushed me into a deep depression. I threw the bottle at his chest, screaming, begging to know why. “Joanna, I grew up without a father. I know exactly how much that hurts. I refuse to bring a child into this world when I don’t have the time to actually be a dad.” It was a pathetic, disgusting lie. His father had died. Victor just loved his money more than his family. Three years of dating. Two years of marriage. I was exhausted. The Victor in my memories used to take the subway for an hour across town in the freezing snow just to bring me my favorite strawberry tart. He used to spend half his paycheck to buy me a coat just because I looked at it twice in a catalog. He used to say, “Whatever other girls have, my Jo gets double.” Back then, his eyes were full of nothing but pure, unadulterated love. Looking at the man standing in front of me now, I realized I was living with a stranger. I didn’t argue. I walked down to the cellar, pulled out his most expensive bottle of vintage Bordeaux, and poured myself a brimming glass. The wine was unbreathed. It tasted bitter and heavy with tannins. As I swallowed the last drop, I looked him dead in the eye. “I don’t want a baby anymore. And I don’t want you, either. I want a divorce.” 4 “Absolutely not.” Victor snatched the empty crystal glass from my hand and poured one for himself. Tasting of rich wine and desperation, he kissed me. That was the night our daughter was conceived. When I went into labor, he wasn’t there. I lay in the sterile hospital bed, calling his private number over and over. He kept sending me to voicemail. Right as my strength was completely giving out, he finally picked up. “Joanna, I am in the middle of a board meeting.” The line went dead. The delivery nurse held my phone, her face flushed with secondhand embarrassment as she tried to comfort me. The birth was brutal. Trembling through the agonizing pain, I signed my own surgical consent forms. Miraculously, my little girl survived. From the moment she was born, she became my entire universe. She was an absolute angel, always giggling, always reaching for me. Victor had no interest in her. He rarely looked at her, yet her very first word was “Dada.” Something about hearing that word seemed to awaken a tiny shred of humanity in him. For a few rare, fleeting days, he came home early. He would put her on his shoulders and run around the living room while she squealed with joy. Just a few days before her first birthday, I caught a nasty flu. Terrified of getting her sick, I checked myself into a clinic across town and left her in Victor’s care. I never imagined that would be the last time I saw her breathing. The coroner said a sudden, violent spike in fever took her in her sleep. I had cornered Victor in the hallway, gripping the lapels of his suit, screaming until my vocal cords tore. Where the hell was he when she was burning up? He offered absolutely no explanation. He just stood there like a statue, telling me to calm down, looking as detached as if the dead infant were a stranger on the evening news. It took me a long time to uncover the truth. That night, a thunderstorm had rolled through the city. Scarlett had called him, crying that she was scared of the lightning. And just like that, for a woman playing the victim, Victor abandoned his sick, one-year-old daughter. That was the second time I demanded a divorce. Again, he refused. “Victor, is there really any point to this marriage? Just let me go.” “Jo, did you forget? You were the one who taught me the golden rule. Only the person holding more than fifty percent of the shares gets the final say.” A suffocating, endless darkness swallowed me whole. The blood in my veins turned to ice. It was so, so cold. 5 When our company finally went public, Victor and I held an equal fifty percent of the founder’s shares. Over the years, we brought in other board members, diluting our combined stake to exactly sixty-four percent. I remembered smiling at him, shaking my head. “Only the person holding more than fifty percent has absolute authority, Mr. CEO.” Victor had pulled me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. “Jo, we’re getting married. What’s mine is yours.” He had insisted on transferring his shares to my name. Eventually, I compromised. I refused to take his equity, but I made him sign a legal contingency. If we ever divorced, I would take back what was rightfully mine. It was supposed to be a fail-safe, a punishment if he ever broke my heart. He had pinned me to the bed that night, swearing he would never give me the chance to use it. “So, you refuse to divorce me,” I whispered into the quiet hospital room, “not because you feel guilty about me, and not because you feel guilty about our dead daughter. You’re just terrified of losing your precious company.” Victor’s inner voice fell dead silent. He knew I had finally given up my claim on those shares just to buy my freedom. I just hadn’t anticipated he would be so utterly shameless as to schedule his wedding to Scarlett on the exact same day our divorce was supposed to be finalized. Hearing me mention our child, Victor’s aggressive thoughts completely deflated. When he finally spoke in my mind, his tone was pathetic and begging. Joanna, I know I failed you. I know I did. But this is the only child I have left. Please, just leave him alone. It was true. The emergency room doctor had mentioned that the steering column had crushed his pelvis during the crash. Victor was permanently sterile. They always say karma is a mirror. Why should a monster like him get to be a father anyway? His thoughts kept rambling, growing more desperate and frantic by the second. I leaned down until my lips were inches from his ear and let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Oh, Victor, what should I do? There’s so much blood on the floor. I think it’s coming from Scarlett.” Joanna, you will burn in hell for this! People like you deserve to rot in hell! “Maybe I will,” I whispered. “But your kid is already waiting for me down there. Victor, let’s just cool off, okay?” 6 Victor clearly wasn’t cooling off. The heart monitors hooked up to him started blaring a piercing alarm. A team of nurses and doctors sprinted into the room. They rushed around him with syringes and paddles. For a moment, I really thought he was going to die. But after stabilizing him, the lead doctor turned to me with wide eyes, explaining that the massive spike in blood pressure had somehow shifted the clot. He was going to wake up in a few days. What a resilient cockroach. Even before his eyes could open, his consciousness was fully awake, hurling mental obscenities at me. He screamed in his mind that marrying me was the biggest mistake of his miserable life. I almost laughed. I leaned over him one last time, keeping my voice sweet and low. “Do you really think Scarlett loves you? The second the doctor said you might be a vegetable for years, your little soulmate packed up her designer bags and bolted. She’s probably already swiping for her next sugar daddy.” Hearing that, Victor completely snapped. He started mentally screaming for a divorce immediately. In the past, I was the desperate one, giving up everything just to escape. Now, the tables had turned. I was setting the terms. “I want half of your shares.” Impossible. Don’t even dream about it. It’s my empire. “Then we stay married.” You… Ten percent. That’s my final offer. Don’t push your luck. If his eyes were open, I knew exactly what his face would look like. Jaw clenched, veins popping, utterly disgusted. “Half. It was always mine to begin with.” Fifteen. “Half.” Twenty. His mental voice was practically vibrating with rage, signaling he had reached his absolute limit. “Deal. Have your lawyer call mine the second they discharge you.” I didn’t waste another breath on him. I picked up my purse and walked out into the sunlight. I just didn’t expect him to move so fast. Barely two days later, his legal team reached out. Standing on the steps of the courthouse with my fresh divorce decree in hand, I glanced behind him. He was completely alone. Now that he was awake, the telepathic connection had vanished. I couldn’t hear a thing. “What, no double celebration today? Did Scarlett really find herself a new sponsor?” I was only mocking him, but Victor’s face instantly turned the color of bruised plums. He spat out something about me minding my own business and limped to his waiting town car. Turns out, my joke was a prophecy. Scarlett had indeed found a new billionaire backer. And surprisingly, it was someone I knew very well. 7 Following the reallocation of my new shares, the company called an emergency Board of Directors meeting. Victor arrogantly took the massive leather chair at the head of the mahogany table, assuming it belonged to the largest shareholder. The seat to his right was conspicuously empty. His executive assistant nervously announced that the mysterious angel investor, who still held thirty percent of the company, was finally making an appearance today. At the exact moment the clock struck the hour, the heavy oak doors swung open. A man and a woman walked in arm-in-arm. My jaw nearly dropped. Scarlett was clinging to Rowan’s bicep. She whispered something in his ear, and they both let out a soft laugh. “Scarlett!” Victor’s voice cracked like a whip, cutting her laughter short. She froze, staring at him in absolute terror. “V-Victor? You’re out of the hospital?” Her voice trembled violently. A bead of cold sweat rolled down her perfectly powdered temple. I watched her desperately try to yank her arm away from Rowan, but his grip was ironclad. Rowan leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, looking like the picture of an intimate lover. “Babe, you okay?” Victor looked absolutely murderous. His glare could have melted glass. The sheer absurdity of the love triangle was too much. I let out a sharp laugh, which earned me a vicious glare from my ex-husband. Victor stood up, violently grabbing Scarlett’s wrist and yanking her behind his back. He turned his venom on Rowan. “I don’t care who you are, you are trespassing. Get the hell out of my boardroom.” He picked up the intercom to call security. “Take a breath, Mr. Blackwood. I have every right to be at this meeting.” Rowan waved a hand dismissively. So Rowan was the phantom investor. While everyone else at the table was suffocating in Tom Ford suits, Rowan was wearing a crisp white t-shirt and vintage denim, looking like a harmless college frat boy. Victor slammed the phone down, barking at the guards to stand down. As he moved to sit back in the CEO’s chair, Rowan stepped right in his path. “Actually, Victor, your seat is over there.” Rowan offered a polite smile, pointing a long finger toward a chair near the middle of the table. With his other hand, he grabbed the back of the CEO’s chair and casually sat down in it. Leaning back, Rowan gestured to the secretary. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.” I watched Victor’s face transition from red to purple, finally settling on a sickly, furious gray. He looked like a chameleon having a stroke. But with the entire board watching, he forced his rage down. “I currently hold thirty-four percent of this company. I believe that makes me the majority, Mr. Gallagher.” Victor smiled, though his eyes were completely dead. Rowan didn’t even look at him. Instead, he waved Scarlett over with a bright, charming smile. “Come here, babe. Why don’t you explain the math to your ex-boyfriend.” Rowan emphasized the word ex heavily. The entire room held its breath, eyes darting between the three of them. The secretary leaned down and whispered in my ear that this was better than reality TV. Scarlett looked like she was going to throw up. Trembling like a leaf, she stuttered out a confession. She had gifted half of her personal five percent equity to Rowan. “That makes thirty-five percent.” Rowan grinned, mimicking Victor’s soulless smile perfectly. “Looks like I beat you by one percent. My apologies.” Victor stared at Scarlett, the color draining completely from his face. Scarlett grabbed her stomach, rolled her eyes to the back of her head, and dramatically fainted onto the carpet. Honestly, the Best Actress award must have been bought by Victor. That was a terrible performance. The board meeting was effectively adjourned, but the executives left the room fighting back smiles. Victor was the only one who looked like he was attending a funeral. Once the room cleared, I pulled out my phone and opened a chat window. Great acting today. Proceed to phase two. Almost instantly, a sticker of a golden retriever wagging its tail popped up on my screen. 8 According to the secretary’s frantic gossip, Scarlett’s ambulance had been intercepted by paparazzi on the way to the ER. Desperate to protect her image, Victor had forced his driver to lose the tabloid cars on the freeway, driving recklessly for hours. The stress nearly caused Scarlett to miscarry. Victor had thrown an absolute tantrum. He even hired some thugs to jump the lead photographer in an alley. Desperate to legitimize his relationship and the child, he was planning an exclusive magazine interview to announce their engagement. I couldn’t let him control the narrative. I had to pass the torch on my own terms. I drafted a beautifully devastating post on Twitter and Instagram. I painted a tragic, poetic picture of a man so deeply in love with Miss Scarlett that he abandoned his dying daughter during a thunderstorm just to comfort her. I praised Miss Scarlett’s immense bravery for getting pregnant so quickly to heal his grieving heart. I called myself a bitter, wicked woman who was standing in the way of true love, and publicly announced that I was stepping aside to let their beautiful romance blossom. To ensure nobody thought I was making it up, I attached pristine, high-resolution scans of our divorce decree and Scarlett’s ultrasound report. The dates were impossible to misinterpret. By midnight, the internet exploded. Victor’s reputation was incinerated. Scarlett was canceled globally. The stress sent her back to the hospital, and this time, the baby didn’t make it. At the same time, I reached out to the beaten paparazzi photographer and covered his medical bills. During our chat, he let it slip that the guys who jumped him were wearing boots issued by Victor’s corporate security team. I smiled. Victor was practically handing me the nails for his own coffin. While the internet was still out for blood, I helped the photographer file a police report, gifting Victor a beautiful fifteen-day stay in the county jail for assault. On the day of his release, Scarlett was waiting for him at the gates. I tipped off the tabloids. The photographer was a true professional. That evening, a new hashtag trended at number one. #ToxicSoulmates. The comments were entirely people praying that Victor and Scarlett would stay together forever so they couldn’t ruin anyone else’s lives. Because of the massive PR nightmare, the company’s stock took a nosedive. Millions in market cap vanished overnight. Several international clients pulled their contracts. As the acting CEO, Victor was forced to eat the losses. Desperate for liquidity, he sold his penthouse and his fleet of sports cars just to plug the bleeding holes in the corporate accounts. Stripped of his cash flow, he rented a dingy two-bedroom apartment near the financial district. It was a massive fall from grace, but at least Scarlett was still playing the loyal girlfriend. “You really think she’s staying out of love?” The photographer sneered over coffee, sliding his phone across the table to me. “Her agency dropped her and slapped her with a breach of contract suit. She literally has nowhere else to go.” On the screen, a grainy video showed Scarlett in a cheap apron, screaming at Victor in a cramped kitchen. Victor threw a coffee mug at the wall and slammed the door behind him. His new apartment was a walk-up in a bad neighborhood. Stomping down the dark stairwell, he missed a step and face-planted on the concrete, chipping his front tooth and ripping his cheap dress shirt. The rest of the footage was repetitive. Victor getting blackout drunk, coming home, and engaging in screaming matches with Scarlett. The photographer mentioned that Victor was spending every night at dive bars and cheap steakhouses, drinking cheap whiskey and begging lower-tier suppliers for contracts like a desperate dog. I pushed the phone back across the table, losing interest. I told him to keep a tail on them. Victor was holding out longer than I anticipated. I thought he would have started liquidating his shares by now. He needed a harder push. I opened the chat window with Rowan and typed a quick message. Go comfort your girlfriend. She’s probably missing you.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “531856”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the third day of dating, my boyfriend lost his memory. My reaction: … This was the man I had chased for three grueling years. I’m exhausted. Let’s just burn it all down. I honestly didn’t have the energy to try and win him over again. So, when he looked at me, his eyes blank, and asked who I was, I simply replied, under the silent, tense gazes of his family, “I’m your assistant.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a collective sigh of relief. Including me. And, perhaps, even him. 1 Alexander stared at me, as if trying to discern a lie on my face. But I met his gaze calmly. Are you kidding? He was such a pain to chase. If I had to do it all over again, it would literally kill me. I weighed the pros and cons for all of three seconds. Then, I decided: I was out. There are plenty of handsome men in the world. I wasn’t going to waste another three years on him. When I first started pursuing him, it was purely because of his face. So, I interviewed at his company and landed a job as his assistant. After chasing him for a year, I actually fell in love with him. He had this quiet gravitas, a self-possession I lacked. Two years in, I almost gave up. He was so emotionally distant. But I felt like I’d invested too much to quit then. It would be a waste. By the third year, I was completely drained. I was ready to throw in the towel. But right when I was about to walk away, he finally agreed to be with me. I basked in three blissful days of happiness. And then, poof, amnesia. I let out a bitter laugh. Amnesia. How perfect. His younger brother, Cody, stayed by his bedside, his eyes glued to me. I placed a folder of documents in front of Alex. “Mr. Alexander, please review this contract. If everything looks good, it’s ready for your signature.” Cody frowned. “My brother just woke up.” I handed Alex a pen. “And? Are we abandoning the company? Giving up on profits? Should the employees starve?” Alex picked up the contract, read it for a good fifteen minutes, and then signed. He handed it back to me. “Thank you for your hard work.” I shook my head. “It’s nothing.” I checked my watch. “Mr. Alexander, Mr. Harrison, the Vice President, will handle all other matters that don’t require your direct approval. So, I won’t need to disturb you during your recovery. Get well soon. I’ll return to the office now.” I gave a polite bow, then turned and walked away without a single backward glance. “Ms. Joanna.” I paused, turning to face him. “Is there anything else, Mr. Alexander?” Alex stared at me. “You are just my assistant, right?” I froze for a split second, then plastered a wide, toothy grin on my face. “Yes, Mr. Alexander.” He nodded. I said nothing more, turning to leave. It wasn’t until I reached the parking garage and settled into my driver’s seat that the smile finally fell from my face. Damn it. If he wanted to break up, why the hell did he have to fake amnesia? It’s not like I haven’t seen what real amnesia looks like. His acting was terrible. Plus, that whole memory loss act felt straight out of a cheesy soap opera. It was so fake. I grabbed the tin of candies from the passenger seat, popped one into my mouth. Life was too bitter. I needed some sweetness. The first thing I did when I got back to the office was write a letter of resignation. I was done playing his games. Even if I lived to be ninety, I’d wasted a thirtieth of my life on him. Not only did I not make any money, I couldn’t even recoup my investment. This deal was a complete loss. Forget it. I submitted my resignation request through the internal system. With Alex in the hospital, I had transferred my approval authority to Mr. Harrison. Alex would never even see my resignation. Mr. Harrison burst into my office the moment he saw it. “Ms. Joanna, what’s going on?” I took a sip of my coffee and spun a ridiculous lie. “Well, Alex is in the hospital, right? He needs constant care. I’ve decided to dedicate myself to looking after him. And after he’s discharged, I’ll still need to be home, taking care of him. His health is paramount.” Mr. Harrison was one of the few people who knew about our relationship. So, he completely bought my story. “Is Mr. Alexander’s condition serious?” I waved a hand dismissively. “Not serious at all. Physically, he’s fine. Just a little memory loss. When you visit him, don’t mention my resignation. I wouldn’t want him to get agitated, thinking I quit just to take care of him.” Mr. Harrison nodded vigorously. “I understand, I understand.” “So, I’m counting on you to hold down the fort. I’ll spend the next month transitioning my responsibilities. I’ll still go to the hospital to brief Alex on critical matters. This month, I’ll gently prepare him for my eventual departure. By the end of it, he should be ready for me to officially leave.” As Mr. Harrison left, I gave him one last reminder. “Oh, and Mr. Harrison, please make sure to approve my resignation on the system, okay?” “No problem.” I breathed a sigh of relief as he walked away. Actually, when I was contemplating giving up on Alex before, I had already delegated most of my work. Then he suddenly told me he wanted to be together, and I put the brakes on the transition. Looking back, I was incredibly farsighted. My replacements were already trained. Handing over the remaining tasks should be a breeze. 2 When I got home that evening, I felt utterly drained. Just as I was about to eat dinner, a text popped up from my friend. Jake: [Wanna come out?] Me: [For what?] Jake: [? I’m just asking. You always say no when I ask.] Me: [Then why bother asking?] Jake: [Just in case, you know? It’s been three years since you set foot in my club. Someone asked about you recently, so I figured I’d try again.] Me: [Where?] Anyway, I didn’t have to stay up late organizing documents for Alex anymore. My evenings were wide open. Jake: [My club, of course. We have a new dancer. He’s incredibly hot. Reminds a lot of people of you back in the day. Come check him out.] I grabbed my car keys. [Half an hour.] Jake: [Alright, perfect. I’ll get your usual drink ready.] Five years ago, Jake and I opened that club together. Back then, all I wanted was a carefree life. Jake managed it, and I collected my dividends. I made a decent living. To get the party started, I used to hit the dance floor myself. Those were the days. Life was amazing. I had suitors lining up around the block. Then I ran into Alex at the club. One look, and I was smitten. The next thing I knew, I was interviewing to be his assistant. Now that I’d quit, I could go back to my old life of just chilling and enjoying myself. The moment I stepped into the club, Jake enveloped me in a bear hug. “Waaah, I missed you so much! You were slaving away at that godforsaken company every day. It was impossible to even see you.” I patted his back. “It’s fine now. I quit. I’m with you from now on.” Jake’s sobs abruptly stopped. “Quit? What do you mean?” I laughed. “We broke up.” Jake: “But it’s only been three days?” “He had a change of heart.” Jake: “What the f***, that son of a b****! He’s a complete a******! You poured your heart out for a dog! That piece of s***! I’m gonna find someone to break his damn legs!” I clamped my arm around his neck. “Still so volatile, man. It’s fine. In a month, I’ll be officially gone. He’ll be out of my life for good. I’m just a little bummed. Never even got a proper kiss. You have no idea what a hellhole the last three years have been. I’ve been starved for action.” Jake: “You? There are a hundred hot people in this club. If you want, you could kiss every single one of them tonight.” I burst out laughing. “Alright, alright, enough about that. So, who’s this dancer you mentioned? Let’s see if he’s got anything on my old moves.” 3 The moment I saw Dylan, I was captivated. “Wow, someone actually hotter than me.” Jake looked exasperated. “Dude, you’ve gotten more narcissistic over the last twenty years.” I laughed, patting his shoulder. “Where did you find him? He looks pretty young.” “He’s got a sad story. Graduated high school, no money for college, so he came out to work. Started as a server. I noticed his good looks and moves, so I paid for him to take dance lessons. Six months later, he was incredible. So, I gave him a raise, hehehe.” I frowned. He hadn’t gone to college after high school? “Tell him to come to my private booth after his set.” Jake’s eyes widened. “What are you planning? Are you going to take advantage of him?” I kicked him. “Get lost.” When Dylan entered the booth, I was sipping my drink. Seeing him, I raised a hand, motioning for him to sit on the sofa opposite me. “Boss.” I choked on my drink. “Just call me Jo. I don’t actually run anything here. No need for ‘boss’.” Dylan looked wary, sitting precariously on the edge of the sofa as if ready to bolt. His caution amused me. “What are you scared of? I’m not going to eat you.” Dylan’s lips curved into a small smile, but he didn’t speak. “Jake told me you couldn’t afford college after high school. What’s your situation now?” Dylan bit his lip. “I started freshman year, but I couldn’t afford to continue, so I took a leave of absence. My family also needs money, so I’ve been working ever since.” “How long have you been on leave?” “Two years.” I leaned back against the cushions. “How much money does your family need?” “About six thousand. My younger brother is still in the hospital. The doctors said he needs surgery that costs twelve thousand. I’ve saved six thousand, so I still need another six thousand.” I nodded. “I’ll cover the six thousand. I’ll also pay for your four years of college tuition. You go back to school.” He looked up abruptly, his eyes wide. “Jo, I…” “Just tell me if you want to go back to school.” He nodded again. “More than anything, Jo.” “Then go back.” “I’ll consider it a loan from you. I can work part-time while studying to pay you back.” I stood up, adjusting my shirt. “Alright. But you only start paying me back after you graduate. While you’re in school, if you want to work part-time, fine, but don’t pay me back yet. You’ll likely need money for other things.” “Thank you, Jo. Thank you.” “Add me on social media. Send me your bank account details, and I’ll transfer the money.” Dylan pulled out his phone and handed it to me. After transferring the funds, I drained my glass, then left the booth amidst his heartfelt thanks. It had been a while since I’d truly let loose. I motioned for the DJ to crank up the music. Then, I shucked off my blazer and tossed it into Dylan’s arms. Back in college, I was president of the dance club for two years. Over a decade of practice wasn’t for nothing. The moment the beat dropped, I sprang onto the stage. I tore off my tie, then unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt. The dark red silk shimmered under the lights, like spilled wine staining my skin. My movements were broad and fluid. The hem of my shirt pulled free from my waistband. I tilted my head, grinning at Dylan. Kid, let me show you how to really seduce an audience. I let out a low chuckle, my fingertips tracing a path from my Adam’s apple, down my collarbone, across my chest, finally resting at the edge of my jeans… The roar from the crowd threatened to blow the roof off the club. When the song ended, I leaped off the stage. It had been far too long since I’d danced with such uninhibited passion. I took my blazer back from Dylan and draped it over my shoulders. “So, what do you think?” Dylan’s face was flushed, his voice trembling with excitement. “You’re even better than my dance instructor, Jo.” Jake clapped enthusiastically from the side. “The Dance God returns! You’ve still got it, man. Not a day over twenty.” “Screw you, I’m twenty-six. I’m in my prime, alright?” As we bantered, my phone rang. I picked it up and saw the caller ID. Alex? I frowned. What did he want this late at night? I answered. “Mr. Alexander.” “Come to the hospital.” Me: … I took a deep breath. “Mr. Alexander, it’s after hours. And there are no contracts requiring your signature.” “Someone told me you’re dancing at a club.” I froze. Damn it. I’d forgotten. The first time I ever met him was here. He was with his usual group of friends. Even though Alex rarely came to the club anymore, his friends were still regulars. “I am at a club. Is there a problem?” “You…” Alex fell silent. After about ten seconds, he hung up. I stared at the phone, bewildered. Jerk. Jake glanced at my screen. “What the f***, your ex? Does he have no shame? He broke up with you, why is he calling?” Hearing him say that made my teeth ache. “Don’t even mention him. He’s a pain.” Dylan stood rooted to the spot, looking a little shocked. Great. I scared the kid. Well, he was only twenty. He probably hadn’t seen this kind of drama before. Jake, ever the instigator, piped up, “Oh, our Jo gave his heart to the wrong man, but luckily he’s seen the light now!” I kicked him. “Don’t say everything in front of the kid.” Dylan’s lips curved into a small smile. Damn it, I’m being mocked by a brat. Just as I was about to scold Dylan, I saw him looking at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He said, “You’re amazing, Jo. Everyone should like you. It’s that guy’s loss for letting you go. Anyone you choose to love would be the happiest, luckiest person in the world.” My heart skipped a beat. Before I could figure out how to respond, my arm was suddenly grabbed. 4 I turned around, utterly confused. It was Alex’s brother, Cody. What was he doing here? Cody’s gaze swept over Jake and Dylan, then he pulled me out of the club. “My brother sent me to pick you up.” Jake: “Hey, hey, what are you doing? Is this a kidnapping in broad daylight?” I waved a hand at Jake. “It’s fine, little bro. You guys carry on. I’ll see you later.” Dragged out of the club, I was then shoved into a car. “What is wrong with you? Your brother lost his memory, and you’ve lost your mind? Didn’t your whole family want us to break up? Now that we have, what else do you want?” Cody’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Why don’t you choose me instead?” My brain crashed. “What the hell are you talking about? Choose you for what?” “My brother and I look pretty similar, don’t we?” Me: … “Are you serious?” Cody grit his teeth. “We came to this club together that night, when we first saw you dance. It was me who saw you first. I regret ever pointing you out to my brother.” “I never thought you’d fall for him so hard.” “When you chased my brother, I respected your choice.” “But he treated you badly.” He turned to look at me. “I thought you’d give up after he pushed you away. I was waiting for you to walk away, so I could pursue you. But you actually kept going for three years, and then you actually ended up together.” “I was completely desperate. Then my brother lost his memory.” He looked at me with intense seriousness. “Joanna, will you give me a chance to pursue you?” Me: ? What in God’s name? In the end, all my complex thoughts condensed into one simple question: “Are you okay?” Cody lowered his head, composing himself. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what else to do. You liked my brother for three years. I’ve liked you for three years. I just want to fight for a chance.” I leaned against the car window, watching him. “Did your brother send you here, or was this your own idea?” “My brother. Someone sent him the video of you dancing.” I scoffed. “And your brother told me to go to the hospital?” “My brother told me to drive you home.” I crossed my legs. “So you’re trying to steal his ex?” “My brother treated you badly. Besides, you two are over. There’s no future there.” 5 “What do you like about me?” He kept driving, his voice steady. “You’re beautiful, you have a great personality. Being with you is so easy. Every time you came to our house, I was genuinely happy, even if it was for my brother.” “I’m not telling you all this to cause you trouble. I just want to seize an opportunity for myself. You don’t have to feel pressured.” I sighed, then sat up straight. “Don’t bother. We’re not going to happen.” He nodded. “I know. I just wanted to try.” I was about to say more, but my phone rang again. I pulled it out. It was Marcus, Alex’s best friend. We’d hung out a lot over the past three years. “Weren’t you just dancing at the club? How’d you disappear after I went to the restroom?” I cleared my throat. “I went home.” “So early? I was planning on buying you a drink.” “Another time.” The other end was silent for three seconds. Then, “I heard you and Alex broke up?” I hummed in affirmation. “Can I pursue you?” My hand twitched, losing its grip. My phone clattered, sliding into the seat gap. As it dropped, it accidentally switched to speakerphone. “Why aren’t you saying anything? You two are over, so I’m not stealing anyone. I actually fell for you the moment I saw you, but since you liked Alex, I couldn’t say anything.” “Is it okay if we meet up tomorrow? I’ll pick you up.” Me: … I finally managed to fish my phone out of the gap, sweat trickling down my back. Oh my God. Am I the protagonist of some reverse harem novel? Seriously, I’m a magnet for trouble. I stole a glance at Cody. He didn’t say anything, but his jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might shatter. “Uh, that’s not really convenient.” “Just to talk. No pressure. What if we actually hit it off? I know you’re into looks, and I’m just as handsome as Alex.” “Haha, we’ll see. I’m busy with work these days.” “Alright then. Come to the club more often. You danced incredibly well tonight, just like three years ago. Without Alex weighing you down, you’re finally living again. Congratulations on your new lease on life.” What exactly did I dance three years ago? The cold sweat wouldn’t stop. After I hung up, the car fell silent. A minute later, Cody spoke. “That jerk. I knew he had a thing for you. He stared at you blankly just as much as I did these past three years. You don’t hit on your friend’s partner. Does he have no shame?” Me: … I couldn’t help but think: Then what does that make you, hitting on your brother’s ex-girlfriend? This conversation was going nowhere. After he dropped me off at my place, Cody got out of the car too. I stood at my front door, watching him. Was he expecting to come in for tea? Given our current situation, it really wasn’t appropriate. Cody seemed to sense my discomfort. “Just making sure you get in safely. Go on.” Oh, okay. I nodded and went inside.

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To invite good fortune into their lives, the Bennetts, the wealthiest family in the city, took me in from the orphanage. Sure enough, during my second year with them, my adoptive mother gave birth to their biological daughter, Mona. Everyone whispered that my golden days were over, but Mona never treated me like an outsider. When I was five, we both made it to the National Youth Dance Championship. Just before we were set to perform, our dance instructor, Teri Diamond, noticed that Mona’s silver tiara was crooked and offered to take her backstage for a quick touch-up. Instead, Mona was separated from the crowd and taken by kidnappers. Over the next three years, the endless ransom calls drove my parents to the brink of insanity. The kidnappers fed them a lie, claiming that I, consumed by jealousy over Mona being their flesh and blood, had intentionally handed her over. My parents believed them. In the end, they locked me in the dark basement and beat me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old once more. The blaring music of the backstage area filled my ears. Teri Diamond was kneeling right in front of us, her smile sweet and gentle. “Mona, sweetie, come with me to touch up your lipstick. Your tiara is a bit crooked, and it’s almost time for you to go on stage.” She reached out her hand toward my little sister. Trembling violently, I threw my arms around Mona and held her tight. “Don’t touch her!” I screamed. “You’re going to steal my sister away!” 1 Teri was the most popular instructor at our academy. She smoothed out the tulle of Mona’s dress and tapped her nose playfully. “Mona looks so beautiful today. You’re going to shine brighter than anyone else out there.” Mona shyly hid behind my back. “Rebecca is beautiful too.” Teri smiled, turning her gaze toward my mother. “Mrs. Bennett, Mona’s lipstick is fading a bit, and her tiara is slipping. I’ll take her to the vanity for a quick fix and bring her right back.” My mother was about to nod. My heart seized as if gripped by an icy fist. In my past life, this was exactly how she had lured Mona away. I gripped my sister even tighter, screaming, “No! Don’t go!” The bustling backstage fell dead silent for a moment. Teri’s hand froze in midair, her smile faltering slightly. “Are you just nervous about the competition, Rebecca? I’m only taking Mona to touch up her makeup.” I held onto Mona like my life depended on it. “You’re a liar! You’re a bad teacher! You’re going to steal my sister!” Terrified by my sudden outburst, Mona wrapped her tiny arms around my neck, whispering, “Rebecca…” People around us started to stare. Some parents frowned, muttering to one another. “What’s wrong with that child? Why is she making things up?” “Miss Teri has been teaching here for years. She’s so dedicated.” “Is the adopted girl afraid the real daughter will outshine her?” Adopted girl. Real daughter. Those words Diamondd my mind like needles. They had said the exact same things in my past life. They claimed I was wicked because I wasn’t a real Bennett. They said Mona was the true princess, and I couldn’t stand her success. But I had never envied Mona. She was my sister. She was the very first person in that house who hugged me and told me, “You’re a baby too, Rebecca.” I sobbed, gasping for air. “Daddy, Mommy, please don’t let her take Mona. Please, I beg you.” My father, Arthur, had been speaking with the event coordinator. Hearing my hysterical cries, he strode over, his brow furrowed deeply. “What’s going on here?” Mommy knelt beside me, wrapping her arms around us. “Rebecca, talk to me. What’s wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?” I couldn’t explain. I only had the body of a five-year-old. I couldn’t tell them about the kidnappers, the ransom demands, the audio recordings, and the bloody end of my past life. Even if I did, no one would believe me. I could only cling to Mona, crying out over and over, “Don’t let Mona go! No one can take my sister alone!” Teri’s eyes welled with tears. “Mr. Bennett, Mrs. Bennett, I have no idea why Rebecca is suddenly so terrified of me. I only wanted Mona to look her best for the judges. If I’ve done something wrong, I’m truly sorry.” 2 She looked so incredibly wronged. Naturally, bystanders immediately jumped to her defense. “Poor Miss Teri.” “How can a child be allowed to slander a teacher like that?” Daddy looked down at me, his eyes filled with confusion, but also with deep concern. Shaking with sobs, I clutched his sleeve. “Daddy, please don’t let Mona out of your sight. Please.” He was quiet for two agonizing seconds. When he looked up, his voice was cold. “We can do the touch-up here. Bring the makeup artist over.” Teri’s face paled slightly. “But the waiting area is so crowded, and the lighting is poor…” Daddy cut her off. “Then bring over some extra lights. My daughter is frightened. Today, no one takes either of them away alone.” Mommy held Mona tight, her voice soft but firm. “Please understand, Miss Teri. The girls are clearly overwhelmed.” Teri’s fingers clenched into her palms. But she quickly forced another smile. “Of course. The children’s comfort comes first.” She turned to call the makeup artist. I stared at her retreating figure. For a brief second, I thought I had rewritten our fate. But I had forgotten one crucial detail. Since she dared to execute this plot at a national championship, she wouldn’t have relied on just one plan. The makeup artist arrived and touched up Mona’s lipstick right there, fixing her tiara under the watchful eyes of my parents. Throughout it all, Mommy kept her arms around Mona, while I sat beside them, my hands squeezing the hem of Mona’s sparkly dress. Four-year-old Mona whispered to me, “Rebecca, are you scared of the teacher?” Looking into her innocent eyes, my nose stung. “Yes.” “Then I’m scared too.” She shook her wrist, making her silver bells ring softly. “Listen, Rebecca. The bells are here, and so am I.” I nearly burst into tears. In my past life, in her final voice recording, her voice had been completely hoarse. She had begged over and over, “Mommy, I want to go home. Rebecca, I want some cake.” But we could never reach her. This time, I would never let go. The event proceeded rapidly. The speakers began calling our dance group’s name. Our director, Mrs. Gable, was sweating profusely. She was usually kind, but she cared deeply about the competition. This was the first time her troupe had reached the national finals, and since the Bennett family was their primary sponsor, she needed everything to be flawless. She hurried over, lowering her voice. “Mr. Bennett, the girls need to move to the wings now. It’s almost their turn.” Daddy looked at me. I immediately gripped Mona’s hand. “I’m going too.” Standing a short distance away, Teri offered a gentle smile. “Of course. Rebecca and Mona are performing together, so they must walk over together.” She seemed absolutely harmless. But her calm only made my blood run cold. In the end, Daddy instructed two of our personal bodyguards to follow the line of children. That was something that had never happened in my past life. I breathed a sigh of relief. But just as we entered the dim backstage corridor, the overhead lights suddenly went dead with a loud click. Darkness draped over us like a heavy shroud. The children began to scream. Makeup cases crashed to the floor. Kids cried out for their mothers. My first instinct was to reach for Mona. Her hand was still in my palm, small and soft. “Rebecca…” she whimpered. But before I could pull her closer, someone shoved me hard from behind. I slammed onto the concrete floor, my elbows scraping painfully. A hand clamped over my mouth in the pitch black. I smelled the sharp, chemical scent of fresh paint, mixed with the sweet fragrance of gardenias, Teri’s signature perfume. I thrashed wildly, but I was only five years old. A hand came out of the dark and violently ripped my sister from my grasp. The silver bells jingled frantically for a second, then they faded into the distance. “Sissy!” My sister only screamed once before she went completely silent. When the emergency lights flickered on, everything was in total chaos. I lay on the floor, skin scraped raw. My hands were empty. My sister was gone. 3 My brain went numb, like I was falling from a great height. “Mona!” I shrieked, scrambling to my feet. Mommy spun around, her face turning paper-white. “Where is Mona? Where is my baby?” Daddy rushed over, his voice tight with panic. “Where did she go?” The bodyguards looked terrified. They had been blocked by panicking parents and equipment carts. It had only been a matter of seconds, but in those seconds, my sister had vanished. The nightmare of my past life rushed back with suffocating force. Fury and dread warred in Daddy’s eyes. The crowd erupted into confusion. “Did she wander off?” “It’s so crowded, she must be hiding somewhere.” “Don’t call the police yet. The competition is streaming live.” Mrs. Gable, pale and trembling, still tried to downplay the situation. “Mr. Bennett, I’m sure she just got scared and hid. We will find her immediately.” I looked up. In my past life, it had been exactly like this. Everyone urged us not to make a scene, suggesting she was just lost and that the show must go on. That wasted time was what allowed them to smuggle Mona out of the venue. I lunged forward, grabbing Daddy’s trousers, sobbing hysterically. “Call the police! Lock the doors! Miss Teri is taking her out through the side exit!” Teri stood near the edge of the crowd, her hair slightly messy, her eyes red as if she too were terrified. “Rebecca, stop making things up. When the lights went out, I was right here. Mona must have just gotten separated in the rush.” Several other instructors nodded in agreement. “Yes, Miss Teri was right next to us, trying to calm the kids.” “We all saw her. She didn’t leave.” They were all testifying for her. I knew she had planned this meticulously. But I couldn’t back down. Mona was gone, and this time, I had to bring her back. Daddy didn’t hesitate. He ordered his security team to seal every single exit in the backstage area. Then he dialed the police himself. “My daughter has been abducted from the backstage of the arena. This is a kidnapping. Send units immediately.” Mrs. Gable gasped. “Mr. Bennett, please, don’t say kidnapping! The reputation of the event…” Daddy glared at her, his eyes cold enough to kill. “My daughter is missing, and you are talking about reputation?” She fell silent, terrified. Mommy was losing her mind, screaming Mona’s name and trying to push through the crowd. Daddy held her close. “Eleanor, stay with me. She is still in this building. I will find her.” Mommy clutched his coat, weeping. “What if we don’t?” Those words felt like a knife. In my past life, we didn’t find her. And that was when everything fell apart. Ignoring the pain in my knees, I ran up to Teri and pointed a shaking finger at her. “It’s her! She took my sister!” Tears streamed down Teri’s face. “Rebecca, why do you hate me so much? I wasn’t even near Mona when the power went out. All these teachers can prove it.” One female instructor muttered, “That’s true. She was right beside me.” A parent added, “I saw her helping a child who fell.” Teri looked incredibly victimized. “Mr. Bennett, I know your family is wealthy and influential, but I am an innocent woman. Rebecca has been calling me a bad teacher all day, and now that Mona is lost, she blames me again. Is it because I’m strict during rehearsals? Does she dislike me that much?” 4 Whispers began to ripple through the onlookers. “Why is that adopted girl pointing fingers at the teacher?” “Her sister is missing, and she’s busy framing people.” “Maybe she’s the one with issues. Did you see how she refused to let her sister perform earlier?” Those whispers mirrored the anonymous letters from my past life. My blood ran cold. Teri was the monster who had stolen Mona, yet a few tears from her had everyone doubting me. Hearing the word “adopted,” Mommy’s face paled further. She looked down at me. My heart stopped. Would she suspect me too? Would she think I had harmed Mona, just like before? I choked on my tears. “Mommy, I didn’t do it. I didn’t hurt her.” Mommy stared at me for a fraction of a second, then she knelt and pulled me into a fierce embrace. “I know, sweetie. I know. You’re scared too. Don’t listen to them.” I froze in her arms, my tears flowing faster. She believed me. Even though Mona was gone, she still chose to believe me. Daddy strode over, lifting me into his arms. “Rebecca, look at Daddy. You said Teri did this. Did you see anything else?” I sniffled, forcing my panicked mind to think. Before the lights went out, the red string on Teri’s wrist. The scent of fresh paint on the culprit. The fragrance of gardenias in the dark. And when Mona was dragged away, the sound of her bells moving to the right. The right side. The prop corridor. In my past life, the police eventually discovered that a massive peacock prop box had left the venue early. By the time they found it, it had been burned to ashes. But right now, Mona was likely trapped inside that very box. I pointed toward the right corridor. “The big bird box! Mona is inside the big bird box! Go to the side exit!” Teri’s expression stiffened for a split second. She quickly chimed in, “Rebecca, there are hundreds of props backstage. You’re just making wild guesses. Finding Mona is what matters, not playing games because you’re angry with me.” Daddy ignored her completely. Holding me tight, he sprinted toward the right corridor, with Mommy close behind. Teri tried to block our path. “Mr. Bennett, the organizers said the right corridor is blocked with equipment. It’s off-limits.” Daddy glared at her. “Get out of my way.” “But…” “Stand down, or I will have you arrested as an accomplice to kidnapping.” Teri went pale and stepped back. We rushed into the right corridor. The air was thick with dust and the sharp smell of wet paint. On the floor lay a tiny silver sequin from Mona’s dress. I wriggled out of Daddy’s arms, picked up the sequin, and sobbed, “She was here.” Mommy gasped, nearly collapsing. Daddy caught her, his eyes bloodshot. “Search. Open every single box.” The bodyguards immediately began tearing through the crates. Just then, from the far end of the corridor, we heard the squeak of rolling wheels. Someone was pushing a heavy object toward the exit. I pointed. “She’s in there!” 5 At the end of the hall, a man in a black stage crew uniform was pushing a massive peacock prop box. The prop was towering, covered in blue and green feathers, rolling on heavy casters. Hearing our footsteps, the man glanced back. There was a faint scar across his cheek. I recognized him. In the ransom videos from my past life, a man’s scarred hand had handed water to Mona. Seeing us, he started to push the cart faster. “Stop right there!” Daddy roared. Two bodyguards dashed forward. The man shoved the heavy box toward them and turned to flee. The peacock box slammed into the wall with a loud thud. From inside came a muffled, trembling whimper. Mommy froze. “Mona!” She lunged toward the box. Daddy pinned the lock mechanism. The bodyguards tackled the man to the ground. He struggled wildly, shouting, “What are you doing? This is just a prop! Let me go!” Daddy stepped on his wrist, pinning him to the floor. “Open it.” The man screamed in pain but gritted his teeth. “I don’t have the key!” One of the bodyguards used a metal tool to force the lock open. As the heavy lid swung wide, Mommy let out a gut-wrenching cry. Mona was inside. She was strapped to the bottom of the box with a wide nylon belt, heavy tape sealing her mouth shut, her face drenched in tears. Beside her lay a small oxygen tank, rolls of duct tape, a wig cap, a change of clothes, and a camera. The silver bell bracelet lay broken on the padding next to her. Seeing Mommy, Mona wept harder, but she could only make muffled, desperate sounds. Mommy’s hands shook so violently she couldn’t peel off the tape. Daddy tried to help, but his fingers were trembling just as much. Finally, our family doctor, who had run after us, stepped in. He carefully removed the tape and unbuckled the straps. “Mommy!” Mona wailed, throwing herself into Mommy’s arms. “Rebecca!” I threw my arms around her too, burying my face in her neck. Feeling her warm skin, I finally let out the breath I had been holding. I had made it in time. Daddy knelt beside us, wrapping his arms around the three of us. His voice was cracked and hoarse. “You’re safe now, Mona. Daddy’s here. Rebecca is here.” Mommy held Mona tight, sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’m so sorry I let go of your hand.” Mona whimpered, “It was dark. The bad man… I was so scared.” The medical team quickly examined her. Aside from being terrified, she only had a slight red mark on her face from the tape and faint bruising on her wrists from the straps. Since she had been rescued quickly, she hadn’t suffered from oxygen deprivation. Meanwhile, the man who had pushed the cart was pinned to the floor. His name was Matthew Doyle, a temporary stagehand hired for the event. Daddy stared down at him, his gaze lethal. “Who put you up to this?” Matthew spat, “I didn’t know there was a kid in there! I was just moving a prop!” I pointed at him. “You’re lying! You have a scar on your face! You’re the bad man!” Matthew sneered, “What does a kid know?” Teri rushed into the corridor just then. Seeing Mona safe, a flash of pure resentment crossed her face, though she quickly masked it with tears. “Thank goodness she’s safe. I was worried sick.” She marched up to Matthew, acting utterly shocked. “Matthew? How could you do this? Why would you put a child in a prop box?” Matthew glared up at her. “Teri, don’t you dare pin this all on me!”

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My best friend was green with envy because I married into wealth. She lured me into going hiking, orchestrating a deadly trap to steal my place. But the universe had other plans. In a chaotic twist of fate, we both tumbled over the edge of the cliff together. When I opened my eyes again, we had both been reborn, returned to the very eve of our college graduation. Without wasting a second, she rushed straight to my ex-husband, showering him with desperate affection. She was hell-bent on stealing the life I once lived. I simply shrugged and let out a quiet laugh. “Since you’ve made your choice, don’t you dare regret it.” 1 My husband, Matt Fabian, was the illegitimate son of the billionaire chairman of the Fabian Group. Shortly after our wedding, the Fabian family suddenly took him in. Later, he even became the CEO of the entire conglomerate. And I went from a soul-crushing corporate grind to a wealthy socialite overnight. My college roommate, Sally, had the opposite trajectory. She was our campus queen, blessed with a striking face. Right after graduation, she threw herself into the entertainment industry, finding temporary fame on a reality survival show. Unfortunately, she had nothing but her looks. Singing, dancing, acting, she was mediocre at all of them. In an industry overflowing with beautiful faces, Sally was quickly washed away by the next wave of fresh talent, fading into obscurity. Everyone envied my luck, whispering about how I had hit the jackpot with a perfect husband. Hearing of my fortune, Sally grew bitter. After all, Matt had liked her first. But back then, Matt was dirt poor, completely beneath her notice. When he confessed his feelings to her in college, she hadn’t just rejected him; she had humiliated him ruthlessly. Now, she was eating her heart out with regret. Using a college reunion as an excuse, Sally reconnected with me. She started calling me daily, calling me her darling, her sweetest friend. At first, I thought she just wanted to use my connections to secure some roles and revive her dying career. I never imagined her real target was my entire life. The day of the accident, Sally invited me to go hiking. As we neared the peak, she lured me toward an isolated ledge and gave me a violent shove. In a desperate panic, I grabbed her ankle, dragging her down into the abyss with me. When I opened my eyes, I was lying in my old college dorm bed. Everything felt surreal. Just moments ago, Sally’s vicious screams were ringing in my ears: “Go to hell, Andrea! You don’t deserve him!” My body ached with phantom pain. As my mind cleared, I realized this wasn’t a nightmare. I had been reborn. “Sally, you look gorgeous today. Do you have a date?” A roommate’s voice snapped me out of my trance. I turned and saw Sally standing in front of the mirror. Through the glass, our eyes met. She curled her lips into a smug, provocative smile. A cold shiver ran down my spine. She had returned too. We were back in our senior year. Seeing me awake, Sally hurriedly grabbed her bag and left the room. Where was she rushing to? I checked my phone to look at the date. Today was the eve of our college graduation. In my past life, only one significant thing had happened on this day. Matt had confessed his love to Sally. Back then, Matt didn’t go by Matt Fabian. His name was Matt Mercer. He only took the Fabian name years later when the family acknowledged him. At this moment, nobody knew his true lineage. To our classmates, he was just a charity-case student living on financial aid. I remembered how Sally had returned to the dorm that night in our past life, mocking him to us. “You guys wouldn’t believe how hilarious that guy is! Wearing knockoff Nikes and actually having the nerve to ask me out! What a joke!” But look at her now. To meet Matt, she had spent hours doling herself up. Even though she had left minutes ago, her expensive perfume still lingered in the air. I suppose it made sense. In our first life, Sally always believed I had merely stumbled into a goldmine by picking up the Fabian family’s abandoned heir. She thought that as long as she married Matt, she would automatically inherit a life of endless luxury. So she ran to him, desperate to claim her prize before I could steal him. But she was dead wrong. Heaven had granted me a second chance, and I wasn’t going to waste it. This time, I had absolutely no intention of stepping foot into the viper’s nest of the Fabian family. 2 The next day. With graduation behind us, everyone was busy packing up, eager to chase their futures. Once our other two roommates left, Sally finally dropped her sweet facade. She grabbed my wrist, her grip painfully tight, glaring at me with raw venom. “Andrea, I’m warning you. Matt is my boyfriend now. Stay the hell away from him, and don’t even think about making a move.” “Otherwise, I won’t hesitate to kill you again.” “This time, I am taking back everything that belongs to me.” Hearing her pathetic threats, I couldn’t help it. I laughed. In our past life, she was the one who despised his poverty and refused to be with him. I hadn’t even started dating Matt until six months after graduation. They were two entirely unrelated chapters. Yet, the way she spoke, she made it sound like I was the home-wrecker who snatched her destiny. “Everything that belongs to me”? Did she think she was the star of some cheap melodrama? I wrenched my hand free from her grip, keeping a calm smile on my face. “Are you absolutely sure you want to be with Matt?” “Of course! Only I am worthy of him! Only I deserve to be the wife of the Fabian Group’s CEO!” Sally shrieked, her face flushed with ambition. Seeing her so resolute, I nodded with genuine satisfaction. “Since you’ve made your choice, don’t you dare regret it.” With that, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of the dorm without looking back. I knew a brand-new life was waiting for me. And I had waited for this freedom for far too long. Two years passed. I became a jewelry designer. My latest collection won first place in an international competition, earning me a handsome cash prize. I used that prize money as seed capital to launch my own independent studio. This had always been my dream. Unfortunately, in my previous life, due to the Fabian family’s relentless pressure, Matt and I could barely catch our breath during those first two years. Dreams were a luxury we couldn’t afford. When you can’t even afford groceries, survival is the only thing on your mind. And yes. The Fabian family had always known Matt existed. But they had ignored him for over two decades. Simply put, they never wanted to acknowledge him. Worse, there were members of the family actively working behind the scenes to keep him down. I only learned these ugly truths after surviving a near-death experience in my past life. 3 That turning point had occurred in the third year after graduation in my past life. Matt and I were already married by then. Though those three years had been a constant struggle, I hadn’t suspected anything sinister, assuming we were just plagued by bad luck. Until the day Matt was fired. The company accused him of leaking highly classified trade secrets to a competitor for a massive payout. The moment I heard the accusation, I knew it was a lie. I knew Matt. He was timid, submissive, and utterly terrified of conflict. He didn’t have the spine to pull off a corporate heist. But no matter how much I begged him for answers, he refused to tell me what was happening. Because of the leaked data, his former employer suffered catastrophic losses. Blaming Matt, the vengeful business owner hired thugs to set fire to our apartment in the middle of the night. We were nearly burned to ashes. The place we rented was a dilapidated unit in a sketchy neighborhood. The streets were pitch black, devoid of any security cameras. The police investigated for a night and found absolutely nothing. As a result, all the damages fell squarely on Matt and me. In a city like New York, real estate was astronomically expensive. Even a run-down apartment carried a debt that would take us lifetimes to pay off. I would never forget that freezing winter morning. Matt and I sat on the rooftop of our charred building, shivering in our tattered pajamas, without a single penny to our names. Matt smoked eight cigarettes in thirty minutes. Finally, he whispered in a raspy, broken voice, “Andrea, I’m so sorry. We can’t get out of this. Why don’t we just jump? It’ll all be over…” “Matt, you are a pathetic excuse for a man!” I had married him because I thought his quiet nature meant he was decent and reliable. Only then did I see his true colors. He was a coward who ran from his problems, choosing suicide over facing reality. I screamed at him, unleashing years of pent-up frustration. Under my relentless pressure, Matt finally broke down and confessed everything. He told me about his illegitimate status and the toxic civil war raging within the Fabian family. Only then did I realize the truth. The reason my career had been systematically ruined was because I was married to a man who was standing in the crosshairs of billionaires. Matt hadn’t leaked those secrets. But someone powerful wanted him to be the scapegoat, so he was. Recalling those dark days, my heart still pounded with lingering dread. But mostly, I felt a profound sense of relief. I no longer had to deal with that nightmare. Someone else was carrying that heavy cross for me now. Knowing that Sally was currently cramped up in that dingy apartment with Matt, screaming at each other over pennies, the thought filled me with an exquisite sense of satisfaction. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of my studio, looking out at the glittering New York skyline. Suddenly, a bright flash of light caught my eye. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But as I squinted, I realized it was real. A few blocks away, a building was engulfed in roaring flames. 4 I saw Matt and Sally on television again. A news reporter was doing a live broadcast from the scene of the fire. The two of them appeared in the background, standing just a few yards behind the reporter, screaming at each other until their faces turned red. What a pathetic spectacle. The fire from my past life had happened even earlier this time. I immediately grabbed my keys and drove over. A show like this was too good to miss. But as I drew closer to the burning building, the dark amusement faded. Before me, a massive inferno consumed the old apartment complex, its orange flames painting the night sky in a sickening hue. This fire was far worse than the one in my past life. Sirens wailed as police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks jammed the narrow, crowded street. The sidewalk was packed with displaced tenants, their faces covered in soot, shivering in thin sleepwear against the biting wind. They looked exactly as I had years ago. I overheard a group of elderly neighbors muttering angrily nearby. “Everything is gone! My whole life, burned to ash! What am I supposed to do now?” “We have to make those two pay! If they hadn’t been screaming and throwing things in the middle of the night, this never would have happened!” An older woman pointed furiously toward the end of the block, cursing under her breath. Following her gaze, I saw those two familiar faces. Just a few feet away, Sally was shrieking at Matt, who kept his head low, utterly silent. They say poverty breeds misery in a marriage. Moreover, Sally had tasted the high life as a minor celebrity. Now, forced to endure squalor with Matt, her facade of a loving partner had cracked. I knew her sweet act wouldn’t last. I stepped closer to the complaining neighbor. “Excuse me, what did those two have to do with the fire?” “Oh, honey, you have no idea!” the woman cried, eager to share the gossip. The others quickly chimed in, crowding around me. “Ever since those two moved in, they’ve done nothing but scream at each other day and night!” “Tonight was the worst of it. I live right next door. I heard her screaming at him.” “She said if he didn’t take her to see his real family, she was going to light a fire and burn them both to death!” “Honestly, I feel bad for the boy. He seems quiet and harmless, but he ended up tied to an absolute psycho.” The former starlet, once adored by thousands, had now become the neighborhood psycho. This was the life Sally had fought so hard to steal. The real family the neighbors mentioned was, of course, the Fabians. It seemed Sally had finally lost her patience and forced Matt’s hand. She couldn’t stomach the poverty anymore, demanding he take her to the Fabian mansion to claim her rightful throne. How hilarious. Two years in, and she was still dreaming of a fairy-tale ending. How could a spineless coward like Matt ever force his way into the Fabian estate on his own? “Sally, long time no see.” Since I was here to watch the show, I might as well play my part. I walked right up to her. She stood there in a charred, dirty nightgown, while I wore a pristine, warm wool coat. When Sally turned and saw me, something in her snapped. She lunged at me like a feral animal, grabbing my collar with filthy, ash-stained hands. “Andrea! You did this to me! You ruined my life!” “Tell me! What did you do? Why is everything different this time?!” Her eyes were bloodshot, her face twisted with the same manic rage she had shown when she pushed me off the cliff. She blamed me for her misery, yet she was the one who had made every single choice to get here. Nothing had changed about the world. She was simply too blind to see the traps. I didn’t bother answering her. I merely glanced down at her hands on my coat, my voice cold. “You’re getting ash on my wool coat. It’s expensive.” Hearing the word “expensive,” Sally recoiled as if stung. She looked at her hands, then at the black smudges she had left on my collar. She swallowed hard, her eyes darting away, unable to meet my gaze. It seemed two years of harsh reality had successfully beaten some of the arrogance out of her. The proud campus queen had finally learned what it felt like to be humbled by poverty.

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After three years of marriage, I finally got pregnant. I called to tell him. “Hey, come home early tonight. I have some amazing news.” Silence on the other end for a second. “I can’t make it tonight, Iris. Amber really wants some mango crepe cake, so I’m taking her to line up for it. After that, we’re going hiking to catch the sunrise.” “When I wanted to watch the sunrise, you told me it was a waste of time.” “Why do you always have to ruin the mood? She’s all by herself. I can’t just leave her alone, can I?” After he hung up, his childhood friend Amber sent me a text. “Hey babe, he belongs to me tonight. I’ll watch the sunrise for you.” I stared at the positive pregnancy test in my hand, two bright pink lines, and let out a soft laugh. Then, I texted her back: “He belongs to you forever now.” 1 After sending that message, I opened the hospital’s app and scheduled an abortion for the next morning. I didn’t sleep at all that night. I sat alone on the living room sofa, watching the sky fade from pitch black to a cold gray, and then to bright morning light. My phone stayed completely silent. Patrick was busy, of course. Busy chasing the sunrise with Amber. At eight the next morning, I arrived at the clinic right on time. I checked in, waited for my name, and signed the consent forms. The nurse looked at my paperwork and asked, “Is there no one here with you?” “He’s busy.” She didn’t press further, simply handing me a cup of warm water. The lights in the operating room were blindingly bright. The anesthesiologist told me to count down. I only made it to seven before slipping into the dark. When I woke up, I was lying in the recovery room. I stayed there for two hours. Not a single call came to ask where I was. Slowly, I sat up, pulled on my coat, and took a cab back home by myself. It was already two in the afternoon when I unlocked the front door. The sound of laughter drifted from the living room. Patrick and Amber were curled up on the sofa, with snacks and drinks scattered across the coffee table. They were looking at photos on a phone, laughing hysterically. “Look at this angle! The light hitting the clouds is absolutely stunning,” Amber purred, her voice dripping with sweetness. Patrick leaned toward her, a smile on his face that I hadn’t seen in ages. That was the smile that used to belong only to me. I stood by the entryway, changing my shoes, but neither of them noticed. It wasn’t until I walked over to the kitchen to pour a glass of water that Amber finally looked up. She stared at me for a moment, her eyes lingering on my pale face, and then she smiled. “Oh, you’re back! Where did you go today? You look terrible.” Patrick finally turned his head, his brow furrowing. “Where have you been? You could have at least called.” I didn’t answer. I took my glass and sat down at the dining table. Amber spoke up again. “Are you mad at us for watching the sunrise last night?” My hand tightened around the glass. Patrick’s expression hardened as he glared at me. “Iris, seriously? It was just a sunrise. Who are you throwing a tantrum for?” I looked up at him. There was no concern in his eyes, no guilt, only pure irritation. “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “Then why do you look like someone died?” “Amber finally had a good day, and you have to ruin it?” Amber tugged gently on Patrick’s sleeve. “Patrick, don’t. She’s probably just tired.” That small gesture immediately softened Patrick’s tone. “You’re always so understanding.” He stood up and walked to the kitchen, retrieving a takeout box from the fridge. “By the way, I saved you a slice of that mango crepe cake from last night.” He pushed the box toward me like it was a grand gesture of charity. “Go ahead. The line was incredibly long.” I stared at the cake. The bright yellow mango slices peeked through layers of cream. “I’m not eating that.” “Why not? You love sweets.” “I’m allergic to mangoes.” A heavy silence filled the room. Patrick froze for a split second, but he quickly recovered his defensive frown. Amber tilted her head, a mock-puzzled expression on her face. “But sweetie, most people with mango allergies only break out if the juice touches their skin. Eating it is usually totally fine. I have a friend who gets a rash if she touches them, but she can eat mangoes all day without any issues.” Patrick nodded instantly, seizing her words. “See? Amber said it herself. You’re just being dramatic, dramatic about everything. Since when are you allergic to eating them? It’s just a slice of cake. What’s the worst that could happen?” 2 I looked at Amber. She offered me a sweet, almost imperceptible smirk. I set my glass down, my voice flat and calm. “I said no.” The smile vanished from Amber’s face. She lowered her head, her voice dropping to a whimper. “Are you mad at me, Iris? Is it because I went with him? I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have gone.” As she spoke, her eyes brimmed with tears. Patrick lost his temper immediately. “Look at what you’re doing! Amber is just trying to help, and you have to act like this?” He shoved the cake box right against my hands. “Eat it.” I didn’t move. “Iris, I told you to eat it. Didn’t you hear me?” I remained perfectly still. Patrick snapped. He snatched up the fork, scooped up a massive piece of the crepe cake, and forced it to my lips. “Open your mouth.” I jerked my head away, but the fork scraped against my cheek. The sticky cream and mango juice smeared onto my skin, and an instant, burning itch began to spread. Amber gasped softly. “Patrick, stop. If she doesn’t want it, don’t force her.” “No, she’s eating it today. She does this every single time, throwing a fit over nothing. I’m sick of pampering her.” He scooped another piece, pinched my jaw tight, and shoved it directly into my mouth. The sickly sweet taste of mango exploded on my tongue, and my stomach violently rebelled. I doubled over, gagging forcefully as tears sprang to my eyes. Amber stood up, looking utterly devastated. “Patrick, if she hates me that much, she could have just said so. Did she really have to humiliate me like this? I went out of my way to save that cake for her.” Patrick’s face darkened further. Watching me dry-heave, he felt no sympathy at all. He truly believed I was putting on a show. “Iris, you are going to finish this entire box today.” I propped myself up against the table, wiping the cream from my chin, my voice barely a whisper. “Patrick, you know I’m allergic.” “Amber said eating it is fine! You’re just being dramatic! Eat it now!” He forced the fork into my mouth, spoon after spoon. I thrashed against him, but he pinned me down, forcing me to swallow every single bite of the mango crepe cake. Once the box was empty, Patrick slammed it onto the table. “There. It’s done. Look at that, you’re perfectly fine. What was all that drama for?” He glanced at Amber. “I didn’t sleep well last night. Let’s go take a nap in the guest room.” Amber nodded obediently, following Patrick down the hall. I sat alone at the table, staring at the empty plastic container. Red hives were already blooming across my hands. My throat was starting to itch. I looked down at my phone. It was 2:45 PM. Slowly, I stood up, grabbed my bag, and walked out the door. As soon as I reached the street, I dialed 911. “I’m having a severe allergic reaction to mangoes. I need an ambulance.” “Ma’am, can you still breathe?” “Yes.” “Stay calm. The paramedics are on their way.” 3 By the time the ambulance arrived, I could no longer form words. My throat was constricting, and my breathing had become shallow and frantic. The hives had spread from my arms to my neck and face, itching so intensely it felt like millions of ants crawling under my skin. As the paramedics lifted me onto the gurney, I heard the radio crackle. “Female patient, twenty-six, severe mango allergy. Full-body urticaria, suspected laryngeal edema. ETA ten minutes.” I closed my eyes on the stretcher, thinking, at least I am still conscious. At least I am still alive. In the ER, the doctors immediately hooked me up to oxygen and started an IV. Lying on the hospital bed, I stared at the ceiling lights. They were just as harsh and white as the ones in the operating room this morning. Twice in one day, I had ended up on a medical table. First, to lose my baby. Second, to almost lose my life. Once the reaction was under control, the attending physician came to check on me. He flipped through my chart with a grim expression. “Your allergy to mangoes is severe. If you had arrived thirty minutes later, the swelling in your throat would have completely blocked your airway. You would have gone into anaphylactic shock, or worse, suffocated.” I nodded, unable to speak. The doctor looked around. “Where is your family? Why are you alone?” “He’s busy.” It was the exact same answer I gave the nurse that morning. The doctor gave me a long look, didn’t pry further, and wrote “hold for six hours of observation” on my file. The room was quiet. Only the faint snoring of the elderly lady in the next bed broke the silence. I watched the IV drip fall, drop by drop, when my phone suddenly vibrated. It was Patrick. I picked up. “Iris, where the hell are you? Why isn’t dinner ready?” His voice carried no warmth, only a harsh demand. “I’m at the hospital.” “The hospital? What did you do now?” “Mango allergy.” The line went silent for a moment. Then, Amber’s voice drifted through the receiver, loud enough for me to hear. “Patrick, is she blaming that piece of cake? But eating it doesn’t cause allergies…” She sounded so hurt, as if she were the victim here. Patrick’s tone shifted instantly. “Iris, are you doing this on purpose?” “What?” “Amber said eating it wouldn’t do anything, but suddenly you’re having an emergency? Are you trying to make me apologize to you?” My fingers tightened around the phone, turning my knuckles white. “Patrick, the doctor said if I had been thirty minutes later, I would have suffocated.” “Don’t exaggerate. Stop trying to manipulate me.” Amber’s voice floated over again. “Patrick, don’t be too hard on her. Maybe she’s just delicate. But then again, she’s home alone all the time. Now that you’re finally back, she probably just wants your attention.” Delicate. Attention-seeking. A cheap stunt. These words pierced through me like needles, but I didn’t even have the energy to feel the pain. Patrick sighed, his disgust palpable. “Iris, that’s enough. If you got sick from eating something, get it treated and come home. Stop lingering in the hospital to play the victim. There’s a house full of chores waiting for you. I’m hanging up.” The line went dead. I set the phone on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. The lady in the next bed rolled over, murmuring, “Sweetheart, your husband is a piece of work.” I offered a faint, bitter smile but said nothing. 4 By the time my six hours of observation ended, it was 1:00 AM. The doctor gave me strict instructions to rest, avoid any exposure to the allergen, and return in a week for a follow-up. I signed the discharge papers and took a cab home. Standing in front of the door, I rang the bell. It took a long time before the lock clicked. Patrick stood there in his pajamas, his hair messy, his eyes half-closed. He glanced at me, then turned around to walk back inside. “You’re back? Done throwing your fit?” I stood at the entryway, motionless. The guest room door was shut. Amber was likely asleep inside. Patrick walked into the living room, flopped onto the sofa, and checked the time on his phone. “It’s past one in the morning. What exactly do you want from me?” I walked over, standing on the other side of the coffee table. “Patrick, let’s get a divorce.” 5 He looked up at me, stunned. Then, he let out a scoffing laugh. “What did you just say?” “I said, I want a divorce.” “Iris, have you lost your mind? Over a slice of cake?” “It’s not about the cake.” “Then what? Because I didn’t let you watch the sunrise? Can you stop being so childish?” I stared at him. There was still no concern in his eyes. From the moment I walked through the door, he hadn’t asked if I was okay, or how my allergy was. He only thought I was acting out. “Tomorrow morning at ten. We’ll meet at city hall.” Patrick stood up, towering over me. “Do you honestly think that if you threaten divorce, I’ll beg you to stay?” “No.” “Then what do you want?” “I don’t want anything anymore.” Patrick’s face darkened completely. “Fine. You want to split? Let’s do it. I’m done coddling your miserable attitude.” “Ten o’clock tomorrow.” “Fine.” He turned to walk toward the bedroom, pausing at the threshold. “Iris, don’t you dare regret this.” I watched his back disappear into the room, the door shutting behind him. I stood in the silent living room. I didn’t cry. I didn’t shake. My heart was perfectly still, like a lake bed dried up by the wind. I walked into the study, opened the drawer, and gathered my ID, social security card, and marriage certificate. Then, I went to the closet, packing a few changes of clothes, my passport, and my credit cards. I packed everything into a single suitcase and zipped it shut. I took one last look at the house we had shared for three years. Then, I wheeled my suitcase out and quietly closed the door behind me. The next morning, I arrived at city hall at precisely 9:30 AM. The wait wasn’t long. I took a number and sat on a plastic chair in the lobby. At ten sharp, I checked my phone. No missed calls, no messages. By 10:30, still nothing. I called Patrick. It rang four times before he picked up. “Yeah?” “I’m at city hall. It’s past ten.” The sounds of a bustling shopping mall echoed in the background, along with Amber’s giggles. “Iris, what is this call supposed to mean?” “We agreed to sign the papers today.” “I’m out helping Amber pick out clothes for the new season. She doesn’t know how to shop for herself.” “You’ve had your little tantrum. Don’t push your luck.” “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’ve been waiting for you for forty minutes.” “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Stop nagging. I’ll get there when I get there.” “Patrick, I will wait until noon. If you aren’t here, I’m filing a lawsuit.” The line went silent. “Are you threatening me?” “I’m informing you.” I hung up and continued to wait. 6 At 11:40 AM, hurried footsteps echoed near the entrance. Patrick pushed the doors open, with Amber following close behind, holding two shopping bags. His face was tense, sweat beading on his forehead. Amber, on the other hand, was wearing full makeup, a brand-new dress, and high heels. Patrick marched up to me. “Alright, I’m here. Are you happy now?” I stood up, handing our marriage certificate and IDs to the clerk at the desk. “We’re here to file for divorce.” Amber suddenly grabbed my arm. “Iris, have you really thought this through? You and Patrick have been together for so many years. You’re throwing it all away over a silly misunderstanding?” I pulled my arm away, looking at her coldly. “I’ve made up my mind.” “But Iris, Patrick really cares about you. Please, just sleep on it.” Her eyes welled with tears. Patrick added, “Amber is begging you, and you’re still doing this?” “I want the divorce.” Patrick’s jaw clenched. “Iris, is there someone else?” “No.” “Then you’re just out of your mind. Throwing away a perfectly good life to tear our home apart. Do you think you’ll find anyone better than me?” The clerk looked up, completely indifferent. “Is this divorce mutual and voluntary?” “Yes,” I said. Patrick gritted his teeth, taking a long moment before forcing the word out. “Yes.” The clerk asked a few quick questions about dividing our assets. I told her he could keep the house and the car. We would split the savings fifty-fifty. No objections. Patrick looked stunned, clearly not expecting me to walk away with so little. “You’re certainly eager to get rid of me.” “Yes.” We signed the papers, pressed our thumbs to the ink, and took our photos. The clerk handed us our final paperwork. It was a thin document, much lighter than a marriage certificate. I slipped my copy into my bag. Patrick clutched his copy, staring at it. Then, he let out a bitter sneer. “Iris, don’t you dare regret this. Without me, you’re absolutely nothing.” I didn’t argue. Because I knew, better than anyone, how wrong he was. I turned and walked toward the exit. Amber called out behind me, “Take care of yourself, Iris!” I didn’t look back. Outside city hall, the sunlight was blinding. I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, taking a deep breath of fresh air. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Amber. “Thanks for stepping aside, Iris. I’ll take good care of Patrick from now on.” I looked at the screen, my lips curling into a faint smile. I didn’t reply. I blocked the number and deleted the conversation. I returned to the house to pack the remaining things I hadn’t taken the night before. Patrick wasn’t home, probably out celebrating with Amber. Within two hours, I erased every single trace of my existence from that apartment. I left the keys on the shoe cabinet, pulled my suitcase behind me, and walked out. At eleven that night, I checked into a quiet boutique hotel. The girl at the front desk looked at me kindly. “Just for one, ma’am?” “Yes.” “How many nights?” “Just tonight.” She handed me the key card, and I thanked her. The room was small but spotless. I set my suitcase against the wall and sat on the edge of the bed. A notification popped up on my phone, a bank alert showing my balance. It was just enough to start over in another city. I turned off the lights and lay down. As I closed my eyes, my heart felt completely light. My three-year marriage was over. No tears, no regrets. Only a profound, beautiful sense of relief. I only learned about the events of that night much later, from Dr. Cooper. Dr. Cooper had been my classmate in college, and he was the physician who treated me in the ER that afternoon. He told me he knew it wasn’t his place to interfere, but when he saw Patrick, he couldn’t stay silent. That night, Amber had slipped on the stairs at Patrick’s apartment, twisting her ankle. Patrick rushed her to the emergency room. Dr. Cooper happened to be on the night shift. He watched Patrick walk in, supporting a weeping girl, and recognized him immediately. “Patrick? What are you doing here so late?” “Amber hurt her ankle. Can you take a look?” Amber clung to Patrick’s shoulder, tears streaming down her face. Dr. Cooper examined her ankle, ordered an X-ray, and had a nurse wheel her down to radiology. With Amber gone, the hallway fell silent. Dr. Cooper leaned against the wall, asking casually, “By the way, did you know your wife was in the ER yesterday afternoon?” Patrick froze. “What do you mean, the ER?” “Severe mango allergy. Hives, throat swelling, almost suffocated. She was entirely alone when she came in, and she left alone, too.” Patrick didn’t say a word. Dr. Cooper flipped through the chart, shaking his head. “Your wife had an abortion yesterday morning, and then she was rushed here in anaphylactic shock in the afternoon. As her husband, don’t you think you failed her?” He looked up as he finished speaking. Patrick’s face had turned as white as a sheet.

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At the business dinner, Ken’s ex-girlfriend drank herself to the point of a stomach hemorrhage just to secure a contract. I could not bear to watch. But then I saw him grabbing her chin, his eyes filled with mockery and lingering resentment. “If Miss Nancy wants the contract so badly, why don’t you try begging me on your knees?” The newly minted billionaire of the city, known for his cold, detached elegance, had lost his composure in public for the first time. 1 An hour ago, Nancy had cornered me in the restroom. Arrogant and bold, she had said, “Do you believe your fiancé will leave with me tonight?” Of course, I did not believe her. Unlike the high-and-mighty Miss Nancy, who had once crushed Ken’s pride under her heel, I was his partner and lover. I was the one who had spent seven years building everything with him from nothing. Faced with her provocation, I paid it no mind. But the scene unfolding before me now made me hesitate. At the same time, the whispers of our old business partners echoed in my ears. “How many years has it been since Ken acted like this?” “Ever since Nancy married someone else seven years ago, Ken has been like a machine. Even when the company went public, he never showed any real emotion.” “Seven years ago, Ken begged her not to leave. Do you remember what she said? She said the game with poor people had to end.” “Now that Ken is worth billions, Nancy must be dying of regret.” My body grew numb as I listened. My eyes remained fixed on the two figures not far away. “Mr. Mercer, if I kneel, will you sign the contract?” Nancy relaxed her furrowed brows, forcing a bitter smile. Sweat clung to her beautiful face, dampening her hair, which stuck wetly to Ken’s long, elegant wrist. He was always a germaphobe, but he did not pull away. Dark, intense emotions swirled in his eyes. Ken said nothing. Nancy’s knees hit the ground without a second thought. She was wearing a short skirt, exposing her thighs as she knelt before him. Clutching the hem of her skirt, her tears spilled over, falling like broken pearls. She looked fragile and utterly pitiable. She grabbed the hem of Ken’s trousers, a stubborn smile on her lips. “Is this enough, Mr. Mercer? Or do you want me to bow my head to the floor?” Ken’s eyes flickered, his lips trembling slightly. I watched it all unfold. The whispers around me did not stop. “Who would have thought the proud Nancy would fall this low?” “He finally got his revenge, but Ken does not look happy at all.” “I thought he had forgotten her. Guess not.” “She is the only one who can make him act human.” She is the only one who can make him act human. What about when he was with me? He was always calm, rational, and decisive, never losing control. He was incredibly good to me. He handpicked the finest clothes, bags, and shoes for me. He was endlessly gentle. Every handhold, every kiss was with my consent. He said I deserved the perfect version of him, and he had never once raised his voice at me since we met. But now, his eyes were bloodshot as he stared at Nancy. The emotions in them were so complex, he probably did not even realize his gaze never left her. Seven years. Their seven-year separation was about to become our seven-year itch. 2 Ken let go of her chin. Nancy’s delicate frame swayed on the floor. As she bent forward, her forehead almost touching the ground, a faded, cheap necklace slipped from her collarbone. It was ordinary, visibly worthless. But the moment it fell, Ken froze. I recognized it. It was in Ken’s wallet. A water-stained, blurry photo of a girl wearing that exact necklace. When I had asked who she was, he said, “An enemy.” An enemy who kept him awake at night, whose memory pierced his heart. Now I saw. Not an enemy, but an old flame. 3 Nancy’s forehead never hit the ground. Irritated and restless, Ken stood up and walked over to me. He told my assistant, Marcus, “Give her the contract.” Marcus understood immediately and quickly handed the prepared contract to Nancy. Nancy took it, but there was no joy in her eyes, only bitterness. Her fragile state gave her a tragic, beautiful air. I pressed my lips together. When Ken turned to face me, he had regained his usual elegant, high-class composure. He wrapped his arm around my waist and addressed the room, “Please enjoy yourselves. Our wedding is tomorrow, and we have many preparations left. We will take our leave.” We walked toward the door, showered with congratulations. “Congratulations, Ms. Prescott and Mr. Mercer. Tomorrow is the big day.” “We will definitely be there to celebrate with you tomorrow.” But just as we reached the door, Nancy’s sharp voice cut through the congratulations. “Everyone, I apologize for any offenses in the past. Tonight, I will raise a glass to apologize. I hope you will look out for me in the future.” Before she could finish, someone interrupted, “A glass of water? You have some nerve!” “If you want to apologize, do it right.” “One glass, one contract. Let’s see how many you can handle.” The crowd cheered as someone poured glass after glass of hard liquor. Our backs were turned, but I could feel the intense gazes in the room. Some partners did it to please Ken and me, wanting to avenge us. Nancy’s gaze was burning with desperate emotion. I looked at Ken. This kind of cheap bullying was bad for our company’s image. But Ken just smiled gently at me and asked, “You barely ate tonight. Let’s go home and I will make your favorite chicken and mushroom porridge, okay?” He adjusted my coat. “It’s windy outside. Don’t catch a cold.” His expression was calm, but I felt his hand trembling slightly when it brushed against my neck. “Fine, I’ll drink!” Nancy’s resolute voice rang out. The sound of empty glasses hitting the table echoed one after another. Leaning against Ken’s shoulder, I felt his heart racing in panic. Finally, with a dull thud, Nancy collapsed. Ken could not pretend anymore. Without a second thought, he rushed to her side, draped his coat over her shoulders to cover her legs, and scooped her up. As he carried her past me, I saw the veins bulging on his pale, terrified face. He barked at Marcus, “To the hospital!” Marcus glanced at me in panic, hesitating. “Mr. Mercer, but Ms. Prescott…” “Go!” Ken did not even hear him. I let out a bitter laugh. I did not want to make things difficult for Marcus, so I gave him a reassuring nod. Only then did he follow. In Ken’s arms, Nancy’s pale face flushed. She weakly opened her eyes and shot me a triumphant smirk. She had said Ken would leave with her tonight. She won. No matter how dirty her methods, she won. The private room fell dead silent. Everyone looked at me with deep sympathy. Some even spoke up in frustration. “Ken is out of his mind!” “We went too far. We fell right into her trap.” “Charlie, don’t blame him. Ken is just too sentimental.” “I’ll call him right now and get him back here. He’s just not thinking straight.” I shook my head, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. A sob story only works on someone who still cares. In front of everyone, I slid the engagement ring off my ring finger and placed it quietly on the table. Gasps filled the room. Without waiting for their pleas, I turned and walked away. Nancy won. But I did not lose. Instead, Ken, I do not want you anymore. 4 I walked down the cold, windy street in my coat. The city lights blurred in my eyes. Passing an underpass, memories flooded back. Seven years ago, the night my stepbrother assaulted me, I fled my home. My mother refused to believe me. She told me to go back and apologize. She said, “When you live under someone else’s roof, you have to bow your head.” At that moment, I realized what it meant to be an unwanted burden. To make things easier for her, I left. I never went back. I cut off all contact. I worked by day and slept on the streets by night, barely surviving. I met Ken in an underpass. He was shirtless, clutching a perfectly pressed suit. I joked that it looked like a scholar’s robe from a tragedy. He self-deprecatingly replied that without this robe, he would never get a meeting with investors. I watched him for a few days. He was fascinating. He would spend his last penny on a coffee just to use the cafe’s Wi-Fi. Yet, he would dig through trash cans for half-eaten meals. He could talk passionately to wealthy investors in fancy restaurants, then wash dishes all night to pay his bills. I asked him, “Isn’t this exhausting? Why not get a normal job?” He replied, “I can’t wait. My little sister is in the hospital. If I don’t get a hundred and fifty thousand dollars within a year, she won’t survive the surgery.” Making that much money in a year was impossible with a normal job. But starting a business was incredibly hard. Looking into his gentle eyes, my heart warmed. I joined him. I rented a cheap, tiny apartment. I bought one portion of food to share. He handled the tech, while I began drinking with investors to secure funding. The cheap alcohol burned my throat and tore my stomach. I threw up constantly. Once, my stomach bled. To save money on medical bills, I endured the pain at home. He stopped working and cared for me until dawn. His eyes were full of worry as he cooked me chicken and mushroom porridge. As we looked at each other, his eyes reddened. He promised, “We will make it. Trust me.” I smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Of course I trust you. I always have.” I do not remember who kissed whom first. But the bowl of porridge fell to the floor. It was our first time wasting food, and our first time completely opening our hearts to each other. He asked me what my dream was once we succeeded. I held him tight. “I want a home. A place of my own.” He squeezed my hand. “I will give you a home. Ours.” In the first year, I secured our first major investment. Ken paid for his sister’s surgery. In the third year, the company grew. He bought me a house and decorated it exactly how I wanted. In the sixth year, the company went public, and he proposed. Now, in the seventh year, I thought our home would finally be filled with warmth. Instead, when I opened the door, it was cold and dark.

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1 My father never once attended my parent-teacher conferences. Today, he made an unprecedented appearance. Before I could even crack a smile of relief, he walked right past my desk and took the seat next to Rana. Just like how he chose his mistress all those years ago, he was now choosing her illegitimate daughter. Mocking laughter rippled from Rana’s little clique of friends. They giggled behind their hands, whispering about how I was unloved, a tragic little orphan. I ignored them, calmly settling back into my chair. I had originally planned to tell him the big news today. Both my paternal grandfather and my mother’s father had officially decided I would inherit the family empire. Looking at him now, I realized it was completely unnecessary. Rana noticed me standing stiffly in the aisle and flashed a venomous, triumphant smirk. “Daddy, you even canceled your board meetings to be here. I told you it was fine,” she whined, leaning her head affectionately against his shoulder. My father rubbed her hair, his eyes melting with a warmth I had never received. “I’d never miss a day for my little troublemaker.” They whispered intimately to each other. Every word they exchanged felt like a needle driving into my chest. My mother died young, and my father never showed up for me. He always had a million excuses, constantly pawning the responsibility off onto random corporate executives to sit in my classroom. This term, I ranked first in the entire grade. I had practically buzzed with excitement when I asked if he could finally come to my conference. He had merely cast a cold glance in my direction. No praise. No smile. He just muttered that he would check his schedule and walked out the door. He had never praised me, let alone stroked my hair with such tender affection. “Serena, your parents didn’t show up again? I told everyone you were basically an orphan, but you just wouldn’t admit it.” “Right? Last time she acted so tough, I really thought someone might actually show up for her today.” Two nosy girls in the front row turned around, grinning maliciously at me before bursting into loud, obnoxious laughter. Through it all, my father did not lift his head once. It was as if I were a complete stranger. I let out a cold, sharp laugh, locking eyes with the two giggling girls. “Some people have parents but act like they were raised in a barn. They still have zero class. Even if my seat is empty today, I am still number one in the school.” The moment the words left my mouth, the color drained from their faces. The surrounding parents, hearing that I was the top student, turned their heads to look at me, their eyes filled with pity that such a brilliant girl lacked a loving family. I did not offer any further explanation, but my father’s expression darkened considerably. Seeing the tension, the homeroom teacher immediately stepped up to the podium. She began showering Rana with exaggerated praise, while subtly shading me. She hinted that my personality was gloomy and that aside from my grades, I was utterly useless and nowhere near as charming as Rana. “Exactly. You should all play with children from loving, happy families like Rana. Serena looks so depressing. Don’t let her drag your mood down,” the teacher added, clearly kissing up to my father. I could not stop the cynical smirk forming on my lips. This teacher had been flattering Rana for months. Now, she was actively targeting me just to humiliate me in front of the entire room. Everyone in this school firmly believed my grandfather would hand the corporate empire over to my father. In their eyes, I was just the unloved, discarded daughter destined to be thrown out. Even my father believed that delusion. I let out another quiet scoff, ignoring the smug expressions plastered across Rana and my father’s faces. The moment the conference ended, our family butler, Bernard, was already waiting at the school gates in my grandfather’s custom luxury sedan. Seeing me walk out, he gave a respectful nod. My father, however, assumed Bernard was there to pick him and his precious daughter up. He genuinely thought my grandfather had finally accepted his mistress and her child. His face flushed with absolute delight as he grabbed Rana’s hand and practically dragged her toward the vehicle. “Rana’s dad is so rich. She is totally going to be a billionaire heiress. I am so jealous.” Envious gazes followed them. Rana was already arrogant enough at school, and this would only inflate her ego to unbearable heights. Bernard looked completely bewildered as my father and Rana approached the car. He glanced past them, locking eyes with me. I gave him a subtle nod, signaling him to just let it happen. Let them put on a show. They would not have the chance to perform for much longer anyway. Surrounded by fawning classmates and parents, they climbed into the luxury car. Pictures of them were plastered all over the local social media pages that very afternoon. I did not bother explaining the truth to anyone. A discarded heir like my father was not worth my breath. People just loved a good circus act. But when I returned home that evening, the circus had followed me. Rana’s mother, Vanessa, was standing right in the middle of our living room. I furrowed my brows, swallowing the rising bile in my throat. “Who gave you permission to step foot in here?” It seemed Bernard’s silence earlier that afternoon had given my father the ultimate delusion. He truly believed he could finally parade his kept woman into the main estate. Looking at her face, all I could see was the day my mother died. As my mother took her final, agonizing breaths, my father was busy strolling through an amusement park with this exact woman. My mother waited for him. She waited until the monitor flatlined, her eyes refusing to close even in death. He did not even bother showing up on the day we buried her. And today was the anniversary of my mother’s death. How dare he. How dare he let them walk through these doors today of all days. Vanessa was pointing fingers all over the house, complaining about the decor, criticizing the architecture. Then, she reached for the large portrait of my mother hanging in the hall, demanding it be taken down. I surged forward and snatched the frame right out of her hands. Vanessa jumped in fright, letting out a shrill shriek as she nearly tripped over her own heels. Seeing it was me, her face contorted in rage. “You stupid brat, are you trying to kill me?” She screamed with the furious entitlement of a woman who already believed she was the lady of the house. The sight of her made my stomach turn. “Who gave you permission to touch my mother’s portrait?” Our shouting match echoed through the grand foyer. Suddenly, the heavy front doors clicked open. My father’s voice boomed from behind me. Hearing him, Vanessa’s eyes instantly welled with crocodile tears. She ran to his side, sobbing that I was bullying her. “She was trying to throw away my mother’s picture! And today is the anniversary of my mother’s…” Death. Before the word could even leave my lips, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. The force of my father’s slap snapped my head to the side, swallowing whatever I was about to say. The metallic tang of blood pooled in my throat. My cheek burned with a blinding pain. “Vanessa is your new mother now. Watch your mouth. It is just a worthless painting anyway. If she wants to burn it, let her burn it.” His face was black with fury. For a second, I could not tell what hurt more, my stinging cheek or my shattering heart. Thinking back to how I actually held onto a tiny shred of hope for this man earlier today made me feel utterly pathetic. Hearing the commotion, Bernard rushed into the hall. Seeing the red welt forming on my face, he gasped in horror and immediately reached for his phone to call the family doctor, but my father violently shoved his hand away. “Mind your own business. I am disciplining my own daughter. Since when is it a servant’s place to interfere?” my father snarled. “The old man is announcing my succession soon. You all better watch your backs when I am in charge.” Bernard’s eyebrow twitched at the sheer stupidity of the man. He did not even deem it necessary to waste words on him. I let out a cold, sharp laugh, holding up a hand to stop Bernard from explaining the reality to them. “Bernard, my father is absolutely right. We really need to make sure Aunt Vanessa gets a grand, spectacular welcome into the family.” Bernard instantly caught my drift. He lowered his head respectfully and remained silent. Taking my words as submission, my father and Vanessa exchanged a look of supreme, arrogant triumph. They looked absolutely thrilled by my sudden compliance. Rana tilted her chin so high it practically pointed at the ceiling. “Miss, the charity gala in the front courtyard is about to begin. The master asked me to invite…” Martha, one of the senior maids, walked into the hall. She froze mid-sentence, startled by the crowd. Hearing the word “Miss,” Rana’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. She completely assumed the maid was referring to her. Giddy with excitement, she hooked her arms through my father and her mother’s, dragging them toward the banquet hall. “Grandpa definitely accepts us now.” My father smiled so wide his eyes crinkled into slits. He strutted proudly toward the gala, a woman on each arm. I gave Martha a reassuring nod, signaling her to drop it. She bowed slightly and stepped back into the shadows. Tonight was an exclusive charity gala hosted by my paternal grandfather. My mother’s father was also in attendance. They had both agreed to let me host the event tonight. They invited the city’s most elite circles specifically to introduce me as the new, official heir to the empire. I slipped into the banquet hall early through a side door. The room was already packed. Whispers floated through the air, all gossiping about how highly my grandfather thought of me, and how my maternal grandfather flew in specifically to back my claim. “Thank you all for waiting.” A loud, overly confident male voice suddenly boomed through the elegant hall. Everyone turned their heads toward the grand mahogany doors. My father strutted in, his face glowing with arrogance. He had Vanessa on one side and Rana on the other. It was a charity gala dedicated to wildlife preservation, yet they had actually shown up draped in extravagant, dyed animal furs. Disgust flashed across the faces of the elite guests. My father was completely oblivious to the silent judgment. He marched straight up to the VIP table where my grandfathers sat. My mother’s father instantly turned purple with rage. I had to quickly lean in and whisper calming words into his ear for five whole minutes to stop him from flipping the table. He restrained himself, but his eyes promised total destruction later. We remained seated at the head table. None of us made a single move to offer them a chair. My father’s smile faltered slightly. He shot me a harsh glare, gesturing with his chin for me to give up my seat. I smiled sweetly. I did not move an inch. Instead, I raised my voice so the entire ballroom could hear. “Everyone, allow me to introduce my father’s one true love, Vanessa. And this is their precious daughter, Rana, who just happens to be the exact same age as me.” A collective gasp echoed through the room. The realization clicked instantly. This was the infamous mistress and the illegitimate child born out of wedlock. The atmosphere turned incredibly awkward, but Vanessa was far too blinded by the sparkling chandeliers and the scent of old money to notice. She had never been allowed in a room like this before. The moment I finished my introduction, she grabbed a champagne flute and began parading around the room, trying to clink glasses with billionaires, putting on the pathetic airs of a grand matriarch. The guests offered tight, polite smiles, though their eyes dripped with absolute disdain. They practically shrank away from her touch. My father had spent so many years rotting away with these two women that he had lost all sense of social awareness. He loudly announced to the room that he was going to throw a massive, official wedding to make things right. “That is wonderful, Daddy. I will definitely be there,” I laughed loudly, forcing down the bitter tears burning the back of my eyes. I felt so incredibly sorry for my mother. He wanted face? He wanted prestige? Fine. I would make sure he never had a shred of dignity left in this city. “Just having us there isn’t enough, right? We have to invite all my classmates. We need the press. The local country club is far too cheap for Aunt Vanessa. Let’s host the wedding at The Grand Astoria.” I smiled. The surrounding executives and socialites instantly caught the dangerous glint in my eye. They immediately began chiming in, hyping the idea up. My father’s face flushed crimson with absolute euphoria. He felt like a king holding court. He truly believed his ascension to the throne was imminent. “Are they really throwing a wedding? Do we have to go?” someone whispered from the crowd behind me. I threw a brief sideways glance. The man immediately shut his mouth. His wife elbowed him hard in the ribs, scowling in irritation. “Are you an idiot? This is obviously the young heiress setting a trap to humiliate the mistress. If you actually show up, you are officially declaring war on the entire family.” I smiled, turning my attention back to the three fools soaking in the fake applause. I could not wait for the wedding day. Over the next few weeks, Rana bragged to anyone with ears. She proudly announced her parents were getting married at The Grand Astoria and invited practically the entire school, including the teachers. Hearing the venue name, everyone gasped in awe. It was the most exclusive, hyper-expensive venue in the city. Money alone could not buy a reservation there, you needed supreme status. “Serena, you absolutely have to come,” Rana said, blocking my path in the hallway with a sickeningly sweet smile. She fully expected me to break down in tears. My mother had only been given a quiet, rushed ceremony back in the day, yet her mother was getting the wedding of the century at the most prestigious venue in the country. “Oh, I will definitely be there. After all, he is my father,” I replied with a bright smile. Rana’s smug expression froze. She let out an annoyed huff and stomped away. Her little minions stayed behind to block my path, sneering that the moment I was kicked out of the family, I would not even be fit to wipe Rana’s shoes. “Well then, I pray she legally changes her last name soon,” I shrugged nonchalantly. Some of my former friends actually believed the rumors that I was being disowned. They quickly switched sides, flocking to Rana, desperate for a crumb of her promised wealth. Rana basked in my isolation. She loudly promised to buy her loyal followers new laptops, designer phones, and even swore to take the whole class on a luxury vacation to Australia. Everyone except me, of course. Listening to their excited shrieks, I just mentally scoffed at the pack of idiots and walked back to my classroom to study. Egged on by Vanessa, my father invited every major media outlet in the city. He wanted the world to witness her becoming the official lady of the empire. It was hilarious. I eagerly counted down the days, practically salivating at the thought of watching them make total fools of themselves. My father loved his pride more than life itself, yet he was so incredibly shameless. I even sarcastically suggested he double the guest list. He missed the sarcasm entirely, looking at me with genuine paternal affection. He even reached out to stroke my hair. “If you stay this obedient, I might actually leave a small apartment in your name when I take over.” I dodged his hand, my skin crawling with disgust. The fatherly affection I had craved my entire childhood was finally being offered, and it only made me want to vomit. His hand hovered awkwardly in the air. He sighed and walked away. On the day of the wedding, I arrived at the venue early. Vanessa and Rana were decked out in offensively expensive, custom-tailored gowns. Seeing me walk in wearing my standard school uniform, they sneered in disgust. “What an absolute embarrassment. I really do not want to admit we are related to her,” Vanessa scoffed. I smiled, staying silent. They would not have the privilege of claiming relation to me anyway. My classmates arrived shortly after in a loud, chaotic herd. They took their seats, looking around the opulent ballroom with wide, greedy eyes, drawing irritated glances from the polished journalists setting up their cameras. “Rana, you promised us the new phones and laptops today, right?” the class president asked eagerly. Rana nodded dismissively, looking at her peers like they were peasants. But as the hours ticked by, no one else walked through the doors. It was nearing one in the afternoon. Stomachs were rumbling. And still, not a single elite guest had shown their face. “What is going on? Didn’t you say the CEO of the Sterling Group and the Vanguard Bank were coming?” Vanessa snapped, losing her patience. My father was sweating profusely. He could not get ahold of a single executive. Truth be told, he did not even have their personal phone numbers. He frantically dialed my grandfather’s number, only to find the phone turned off. A cold dread finally began to pool in his stomach. “Excuse me, everyone. We have a scheduled wedding event about to begin in this hall. If you wish to dine, please relocate to the public lobby.” The general manager of The Grand Astoria marched in with a squad of security guards, clearly intending to sweep the room. The crowd erupted into chaos. They had no reservation here at all. “What nonsense are you spewing?” my father roared, his face burning red with humiliation as the journalists aimed their lenses right at him. Desperate to save face, he whipped out his premium black card and slammed it into the manager’s chest. The manager swiped it on a portable terminal. It declined. The account was completely frozen. Just then, Bernard strolled gracefully into the chaotic ballroom. My father lunged toward him like a drowning man spotting a lifeboat. He demanded to know where the VIP guests were. Bernard did not even look at him. He walked straight past the frantic man and bowed deeply to me. “Miss, the Master requests your presence at the executive board meeting immediately.” My father exploded. He screamed that he was the true heir, demanding to know why he was being ignored. But a second later, the horrifying reality finally crashed down on him. The blood drained from his face entirely. He slowly turned his head to stare at me. “It was you.”

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On the night before our wedding, my fiancée’s bedroom photos with her first love went viral on social media. When I confronted her, she just shrugged it off with pure disdain. “It was just a bit of fun, Ethan. You can understand that, right?” “Besides, that was ages ago. You weren’t my husband back then.” Later, when the wedding photos of me and my gorgeous college crush went viral, she came to me, screaming and losing her mind. I simply flashed the wedding band on my ring finger. “What does it have to do with you? You’re not my wife anyway.” Chloe’s intimate photos were spreading like wildfire on everyone’s Snapchat Stories. In the photo, she was fast asleep on a king-sized bed, wearing a sexy lace nightgown, her cheeks still flushed with a post-intimacy glow. My group chat with my friends exploded, and everyone was tagging me. “Ethan, bro, is that your fiancée?!” The second I saw the messages, I called her to demand an explanation. But to my surprise, her voice on the phone was completely indifferent. “Who I hang out with is none of your business, Ethan. We’re not married yet, so stop trying to control me.” “Besides, I agreed to marry you, but I never said I loved you.” Before I could even reply, she hung up on me. A few minutes later, Mason sent me another photo. This time, it was a selfie of Chloe and a man. The man had his arm wrapped tightly around Chloe’s waist, a smug, triumphant grin plastered across his face. I recognized him. It was Jax, Chloe’s first love from college. I slowly slipped off my engagement ring and sent Chloe a text. “The wedding is off. Have fun playing your games.” Putting my phone down, a wave of bitterness washed over me. Chloe and I were childhood sweethearts. We practically grew up together. Our families were close business partners, and they had arranged our marriage long ago. I really thought we loved each other, and that we were a perfect match. I thought it was a dream come true. But I had ignored how fast she went through boyfriends during our college years—it was faster than she changed her clothes. At first, I told myself she was just young, wanted to have fun, and wasn’t ready to be tied down by marriage. Because I loved her, I tolerated it over and over again. But now, a sudden thought popped into my head. Why should I? What did she actually take me for? Not long after I sent the text, Chloe called me on FaceTime. Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and annoyance. “Are you seriously throwing a tantrum right now, Ethan? Calling off the wedding? Please. Do you think your parents would ever agree to that?” The anger that had been building up in my chest finally erupted at her condescending tone. “My words represent my parents. Don’t ever contact me again.” Chloe paused, seemingly shocked and confused. “Are you insane?! When I was with my exes before, didn’t you even buy us dinner? Why are you acting up now?” Before I could speak, Jax’s mocking laughter came through the speaker. “Oh, is your fiancé jealous? Tell him we’re just playing house. You’re going to marry him anyway, so tell him not to be such a loser.” Jax continued to tease her in the background. “Babe, aren’t you going to comfort him? He sounds like he’s actually crying.” The sound of his voice disgusted me. I was just about to hang up. Then I heard Chloe’s cold voice. “There’s no need to comfort him. He always acts like this. Just ignore him.” She sounded so sure of herself, as if she knew I would always crawl back to her. Then, she said in a sweet, pampering voice, “Babe, didn’t you say you’ve never flown first class? I’ll buy you the most expensive ticket for our flight back tomorrow!”

After walking out of the house, I wandered aimlessly down the streets. I bought a six-pack of beer and sat by the harbor, watching the sunset. My phone kept buzzing with new messages. My friends had found out about Chloe, and they were all sending messages of support. “Ethan, where you at, man? Want us to come over and grab a drink?” “Don’t sweat it, bro. I did some digging. That Jax guy is just a broke gold-digger…” … I didn’t reply to any of them. But every time I saw Chloe’s name, my chest tightened. Fortunately, the cool breeze blowing off the water gradually calmed my racing mind. I didn’t know how much I had drank, but the sky had turned pitch black, and the harbor lights were starting to flicker on. “Fuck!” I cursed out loud, throwing the empty beer can into the water. “You absolute bitch!” I screamed into the empty air, throwing one can after another into the water. Yet, the suffocating weight in my chest didn’t lighten at all. “Hey! You over there! No littering in the water!” A park ranger with a flashlight came marching toward me. I quickly jumped up and bolted. Normally, I would have lost her in seconds. But with the alcohol sloshing in my system, my feet were heavy, and she ended up chasing me for ten whole minutes. By the time I finally shook her off, I collapsed onto a curb, panting heavily. I lifted the warm, half-empty beer can that had been shaking in my hand, ready to take a gulp. Suddenly, a shadow blocked the streetlight. A voice like silver bells echoed in my ears. I looked up. Under the dim golden light, a woman was standing right in front of me. Our eyes met. Her eyes seemed to hold a soft, swirling ocean, making it impossible for me to look away. It was Sienna. Our college campus queen. What was she doing here? The harbor lights outlined her flawless face. Her long hair danced in the wind, carrying a faint, sweet scent of gardenias. Her nose twitched slightly, and she smiled softly. “Have you been drinking?” I cleared my throat, threw the beer can on the ground, and quickly crushed it with my shoe. “No. Just… collecting cans for fun.” She watched me quietly, then raised an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “Right. I was going to say—the great Ethan, heir to the Miller Group, couldn’t possibly be running away from a park ranger for littering.” Uh… I kept quiet. The silence between us felt like a lifetime. “Oh? Is your face red? What’s wrong? Did the breakup hit you that hard? Guess you’re not as tough as you look.” Sienna reached out, her slender, fair fingers gently pinching my cheek. A subtle smile played in her eyes. Maybe it was the alcohol talking. Or maybe it was just a crazy impulse. I grabbed her wrist, looking straight into her eyes. “Sienna… do you want to come back to my place for a drink?” “My dog Tommy can do backflips.” The second the words left my mouth, I saw a flash of shock in Sienna’s eyes. Honestly, between consenting adults, an invitation like that was pretty obvious. And I instantly regretted my impulsiveness. She was the ultimate goddess of our entire social circle, every guy’s dream girl. There was no way she would agree to such a ridiculous, forward request. I must have been out of my mind to say that. Just as I was about to apologize, she bit her lower lip slightly and whispered, “Okay.”

The next morning, I was woken up by my phone blaring. I looked down and realized Sienna was lying right next to me, her hand resting softly on my chest. What happened last night? I held my pounding, hungover head and tried to piece together my memories. But no matter how hard I tried, I could only recall fragments. I only remembered bringing her home, pinning her against the door, and holding her tightly. She had asked me, “Aren’t we supposed to have a drink first?” And I think I replied, “You are my drink. Let me take a sip first.” After that, everything was a blur. The phone was still ringing. I squinted and pressed answer. Chloe’s demanding voice immediately blasted through the receiver. “Pick me up in thirty minutes. I want to go shopping.” I instantly woke up. I glanced at Sienna next to me and lowered my voice. “What does your shopping have to do with me? Stop calling and annoying me!” As I spoke, Sienna stirred, letting out a soft, sleepy whimper, seemingly annoyed by the noise. Even though it was just a quick, quiet sound, Chloe caught it. Her voice instantly went up an octave. “Ethan! Where are you?! Is there a woman with you?!” “None of your business!” I snapped, hung up the phone, and turned it completely off. Then, I pulled Sienna back into my arms and happily went back to sleep. I didn’t wake up again until noon. When I opened my eyes, the space beside me was empty. I sat up, shaking my head. Thinking back to last night, it felt like a dream. Only the slight ache in my lower back reminded me that it was very, very real. Walking out of the bedroom, I saw Sienna sitting in the living room. She was wearing one of my oversized white t-shirts, showcasing her long, gorgeous legs. My brain short-circuited, and I blurted out, “Did you bring your ID?” She turned to look at me, a hint of confusion on her face. I walked over, leaning down to wrap my arms around her waist, breathing in the scent of her hair. Sienna’s eyes widened slightly, her beautiful, clear gaze shimmering. I whispered in her ear, “I’m taking you to City Hall to sign some papers. The kind that lets you drink at my house for the rest of your life.” At this moment, I was completely sober. I could hear my own heartbeat. It was louder and faster than ever before. An hour later. I walked out of City Hall, holding Sienna’s hand in one of mine, and our official marriage certificate in the other. “It’s official. You’re legally mine.” Sienna looked at me and smiled beautifully. “Getting swept off my feet like this feels a little too easy. What about our wedding?” I couldn’t help but laugh, pulling her head gently against my chest. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you the wedding of your dreams.”

Over the next few days, Sienna and I were busy picking out wedding rings, trying on dresses, and discussing details with the wedding planner. We watched the sunrise and sunset together. We talked about everything under the stars. The connection between us was so natural. We even discovered we both wanted a rustic wedding in the valleys of Montana. Without any hesitation, we started planning the venue setup. Every day, she would sketch ideas on paper, and a perfect wedding scene began to take shape under her pen. But one afternoon, I received an unexpected phone call. “Is this Mr. Miller? Your custom tuxedo has arrived at the store. When would you like to come in for a fitting?” I was confused. “Tuxedo? What tuxedo?” Sienna and I were planning on getting custom suits, but we hadn’t placed any orders yet. The person on the line paused before explaining, “Miss Davis ordered it for you a few days ago and left your number.” I glanced at Sienna, covered the microphone, and walked out to the balcony. I got straight to the point. “I don’t know anything about this. Contact Miss Davis directly. Please don’t call this number again. Thank you.” After hanging up, I frowned. What was Chloe playing at? Since when did I ask her to get me a tuxedo? Right on cue, Chloe’s call came through. “Ethan! What are you doing? Why haven’t you called me in days?” Her voice quickly turned impatient and bossy. “I ordered a tuxedo for you. Make sure you pick it up. We’re having dinner with my parents this weekend to talk about the wedding date.” “And don’t you dare show up with that miserable face of yours!” I found it almost laughable. “Miss Davis, I’m already married. I’ll inform my parents about it. I don’t want the tuxedo, and please stop calling me. I don’t want my wife to get the wrong idea.” Chloe went dead silent. A second later, a screeching scream erupted from the phone. “Ah!!! Are you out of your mind, Ethan?! Where the hell did you get a wife?!” “I know you’re mad about me and Jax, but I was just having some fun with him! Otherwise, how else am I supposed to enjoy my freedom before getting married?” I could practically picture her face twisting in rage on the other end. “Can’t you just be understanding for once?!” I let out a cold chuckle and didn’t bother to reply. She had been spoiled since childhood. Her family’s pampering—and my unconditional love—had made her think she could do whatever she wanted without consequences. She never cared about anyone else’s feelings. She thought the entire world revolved around her. The ultimate spoiled princess. “I’m giving you one last chance. Get over here right now and apologize, or else—” Before she could finish, I hung up. Sienna walked over, teasing me playfully, “Ooh, was that your fiancée?” I smiled bitterly, pulling her into my arms by her waist. “Fiancée? No way. That was just Chloe. You know, the whole family-arranged engagement thing.” “But don’t worry, I’ll explain everything to my parents. I’m bringing you home to meet them this weekend.” Sienna nodded thoughtfully, but a clever smile quickly played on her lips. She said confidently, “Trust me, your parents will be much happier with me.”

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On the day Grandma Maeve passed away, my divorced parents, who had both remarried, stood over her coffin arguing about who would be stuck with me. In my past life, I felt sorry for my dad, Richard. I chose to stay with him, hoping to ease his loneliness. I even helped him pick the numbers for a lottery ticket that ended up winning a ten-million-dollar jackpot. But the moment he struck it rich, he bought mansions and luxury cars for my stepmother and step-siblings. Meanwhile, he refused to spend even a few hundred dollars on painkillers for me. In the end, I was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor, and I died a slow, agonizing death in my cold bed. Reborn into this life, my dad was frowning and sighing as usual. “Hazel, your mother married a wealthy businessman. If you go with her, you’ll live like a princess.” “My house is already too crowded. There’s just no room for you here.” My mother, Eleanor, was casually looking at her freshly manicured nails. Her voice was icy. “Richard, that’s not fair. Kids make a house lively.” “Besides, the rules in my new home are strict. My husband’s ex-wife left behind twins, and they are not easy to get along with.” “If Hazel comes with me, she’ll be eaten alive.” Hearing them push me back and forth like unwanted trash, I felt absolutely nothing. When they finally turned to me, annoyed, and demanded to know who I wanted to live with. I silently picked up my battered duffel bag and walked over to my mother. Eleanor’s face fell instantly. My dad let out a massive sigh of relief, a smug grin creeping up his face. But he had no idea. Without me there to stop it in this life, that multi-million-dollar lottery ticket would be left in his jeans pocket, thrown into the washing machine by his new wife, and shredded into useless mush. Having a second chance at life, I didn’t care about the money. I just wanted to be comfortable before my time ran out.

My dad shoved the rest of my things into my arms. He kept staring at his phone, checking the lottery drawing date, and waved me off dismissively. “Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency. I’ve got a busy household to run.” His mind was completely consumed by that lottery ticket. He couldn’t wait to throw his useless daughter away. I didn’t say a word. I just dragged my bag toward the Maybach parked at the curb. Eleanor looked at my pilled, oversized sweater, her brow furrowing with disgust. The back window rolled down, and Arthur’s daughter, Chloe, pinched her nose in exaggerated disgust. “Eleanor, is this the charity case daughter you brought from the countryside?” “Why does she smell like sour trash?” From the passenger seat, her brother, Ethan, turned his head and gave me a cold, indifferent look. He didn’t say anything, but the disdain in his eyes was loud and clear. My mother looked embarrassed, standing awkwardly outside the car door. She wanted to suggest buying me some new clothes, but she was too terrified of upsetting her new family. Arthur Sterling, my stepfather, saw her embarrassment. He closed the business document in his hands. “Let’s stop by the mall first. Get the girl some decent clothes.” I lowered my eyes and nodded quietly. Following them into the high-end department store, the bright, sparkling lights hurt my eyes. Arthur asked the personal shopper to bring out several pieces from the new seasonal collection. My mother pulled me behind a clothing rack, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. “Pick the cheapest ones. Don’t look like a greedy beggar.” “Arthur is rich, but that money has nothing to do with you.” “Learn your place. Don’t make things difficult for me.” I watched her perfectly painted lips move, feeling completely detached. It had been a very long time since she had shown this much concern for me. Too bad this “concern” had nothing to do with love. I turned around and randomly pointed at a rack of clothes. Chloe strutted over. Seeing me look at a simple white dress, she immediately snatched it away, giving me a smug glare. “I want this one. You don’t deserve to wear something this nice.” Eleanor immediately put on a fake, flattering smile. “Of course! Chloe, it looks much better on you anyway. Hazel can pick something else.” Looking at my mother’s eager-to-please face, I silently stepped back. I just pointed at a basic t-shirt on the clearance rack. Arthur walked over and looked at the cheap t-shirt. He frowned slightly, then turned to the sales associate. “Take that white dress, along with the other new arrivals, and pack them in her size.” Chloe stomped her foot in anger. “Dad! Why are you buying her such expensive clothes?”

Arthur gave her a stern look. “Our family isn’t so poor that we can’t afford a few dresses. Don’t make us look cheap.” My mother quickly chimed in. “Yes, yes. Arthur is always so thoughtful.” She then turned and glared at me. “Well? Thank your Stepfather Arthur.” I took the shopping bags. “Thank you, Arthur.” Half an hour later, we entered the Sterling family estate. The grand winding staircase and massive crystal chandeliers were breathtaking. The luxury penthouse my dad had bought in my previous life seemed like a tiny shack compared to this palace. But none of this mattered to me. I carried my bags and quietly retreated to the bedroom my mother pointed out. The room was huge. The bed was incredibly soft. I lay down and closed my eyes. A dull, throbbing pain was already starting to echo in my head. At dinner, my mother was desperately trying to teach me table manners. “Hold your fork and knife like this. And don’t make disgusting noises when you eat your soup.” She was terrified I would embarrass her and ruin her status in this house. Chloe sat across from me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She picked up a bowl of steaming hot soup and handed it to me. “Here. Have some soup.” Just as I reached out to take it. She intentionally let go too early. The scalding hot soup spilled directly over the back of my hand. Before I could even gasp, my mother was already shrieking. “How could you be so careless!” “Do you know how expensive that rug is?” “Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up, now!” She cared about the rug. She cared about her reputation. She didn’t care at all about my red, blistering skin. I wiped my hand with a napkin, stood up, and bowed slightly. “I’m sorry.” Arthur set down his utensils, his expression darkening. “Chloe. Apologize.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “It was an accident. She just didn’t catch it.” Arthur’s voice went cold. “I won’t say it again. Apologize.” Chloe muttered a half-hearted “sorry.” My mother quickly tried to play mediator. “Oh, they’re just kids playing around.” “Hazel has tough skin, she’s fine. Arthur, please don’t be mad at Chloe.” Arthur ignored my mother entirely. He slid a tube of burn ointment across the table to me. “Go put this on.” I took the medicine. “Thank you.” Back in my room, I sat on the edge of the bed, gently applying the cream. My phone rang. It was my dad. The background was loud with the sounds of a rowdy bar and glasses clinking. He took a drag of his cigarette, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Hazel! Your old man is about to be filthy rich!” “My lottery numbers are a guaranteed win!” “But since you chose to go with your mother, don’t think you can come back to beg for a single dime of my money.” “I have big plans for this cash.” “Just stay out of my way over there!” I rubbed the ointment over the blisters on my hand, my voice completely flat. “Okay. Hope you get rich.” I hung up. Suddenly, I heard soft footsteps outside. My mother was standing at the door. She pushed it open, looking at me with pure suspicion. “Don’t go calling your trashy father.” “Don’t bring his peasant energy into this house.” “It took me years to secure my place here.” “Behave yourself, and don’t drag me down with you.” I stared at her perfectly preserved face. “Okay. I will.” She seemed satisfied with my submissive attitude and shut the door. In the middle of the night, a migraine hit me like a sledgehammer. It felt like my skull was being split open. A cold sweat broke out all over my body. I pulled open my nightstand drawer. My bottle of painkillers was empty. Clutching the wall, I slowly made my way downstairs to find some medicine. The living room was pitch black. I walked toward the patio, only to find Arthur standing there, apparently suffering from insomnia too. He held a glass of red wine, staring out into the dark night. Hearing me, he turned around. Under the moonlight, he looked at my pale, lifeless eyes and spoke softly. “Chloe’s mother passed away when she was very young. That’s why she acts like a porcupine.”

“Don’t take it to heart.” He poured a glass of warm water, found a box of extra-strength painkillers from the first-aid kit, and handed them to me. I took them and swallowed two pills. “Thank you.” He studied my ghostly pale face. “When I was sick years ago, I couldn’t sleep at all.” “The doctors told me I had less than six months to live.” “Every night, the pain made me want to crash my head against the wall. Even breathing felt like torture.” “Everyone around me was just waiting for me to die so they could split my estate. No one thought I’d make it.” “But I refused to give up. I dragged myself through chemotherapy and surgeries.” “And look at me now. I’m still standing.” He turned back to look at the night sky. “No matter how cruel the world is to you, your life belongs to you. Don’t give up on it easily.” For the first time since my rebirth, I felt a flicker of genuine human warmth. I gripped the warm glass of water. “I understand.” Over the next few days, life was relatively quiet. Under Arthur’s warnings, Chloe stopped causing trouble for me openly. But she still hated my guts. Every time we passed each other in the hallway, she would deliberately bump my shoulder. Or at dinner, she would push the dishes she knew I disliked right in front of me. Ethan always watched from the sidelines, never participating, but never stopping her either. I didn’t care. One afternoon, I came back from a hospital checkup. The oncologist told me that the tumor was spreading much faster than expected. I had two months left. At most. I pushed open my bedroom door, only to find Chloe rifling through my duffel bag. Ethan was leaning against the doorframe, frowning as he watched her. “What are you looking for? Get out of there before Dad catches you.” Chloe was stubborn. “Mind your business.” “I just want to see what kind of trash she’s hiding in here.” She dumped the bag upside down. Several empty prescription pill bottles tumbled out. Along with them was a worn, faded photograph of my Grandma Maeve. Seeing me walk in, Chloe froze, clutching one of the empty pill bottles. The mocking words she was about to say died in her throat. “Why… why do you have so many of these heavy painkillers?” She stammered. I walked over, quietly took the photo of my grandmother from her hands. I carefully wiped her fingerprints off the photo with my sleeve. Then, I swept the empty pill bottles back into my drawer. “Are you done?” My voice was as faint as a whisper. “If you’re done, please zip my bag back up.” Ethan stared at the pill bottles, then at the photo of my grandmother. His eyes grew complicated. He stood up straight, grabbed Chloe’s arm, and pulled her back. In a stiff but sincere voice, he said, “I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have touched your things.” I stared at Grandma Maeve’s smiling face in the photo. “No need to apologize.” “Nothing lasts anyway.” Those words seemed to strike a chord in Ethan. He looked at my dead, hollow eyes, his expression shifting into something unreadable as he dragged Chloe out of the room. The room fell silent again. A moment later, my phone vibrated frantically. My dad had sent over a dozen texts on Snapchat. “That stupid bitch put my jeans in the washing machine! The lottery ticket is ruined!” “It’s all gone! Shredded into paper pulp!” “Did you know this would happen?! Why didn’t you warn me before you left?!” “We’re getting a divorce now!” “Pick up your phone! Get over here!” Looking at the angry texts, I could perfectly picture his veins popping on his forehead. In my past life, I had practically burned my hands trying to fish that ticket out of the washing machine to save him. And what did I get? He abandoned me the moment he got the cash. I coldly typed back a few words: “I didn’t know.” Then I blocked him, silenced my phone, and threw it onto the bed. My head throbbed violently again. I popped two of my new painkillers and swallowed them dry. That evening, I went for a walk along the tree-lined path outside the estate. The fresh air helped ease my headaches a bit. Just as I turned a corner, a shadow blocked my path. It was my dad.

His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a wild mess, and he reeked of cheap whiskey. He grabbed my arm in a death grip. “The ticket is gone! My life is ruined! Everything is gone!” He glared at me, spitting saliva onto my face as he yelled. “I remember you saying you were sick in your past life, right?” “You still have that illness now, don’t you? Go tell your rich stepfather!” “He has millions! Get some money out of him for me!” “If you don’t, I will stalk you every single day!” “Nobody is going to live in peace!” I winced, trying to shake off his grip. “Let go of me.” Furious, my dad raised his hand, about to slap me. “You ungrateful little brat! How dare you speak to me like that!” But before his hand could fall, someone caught his wrist mid-air. Arthur appeared behind us. He shoved my dad’s hand away with immense force, shielding me behind his broad shoulders. Ethan stepped up from behind, pushing my dad back. “Get the hell away from her.” My dad stumbled backward, nearly falling onto the gravel. Looking at Arthur and Ethan, his tough-guy act instantly vanished. He didn’t dare mess with Arthur Sterling, so he resorted to pointing and screaming at me. “You just wait! This isn’t over!” Arthur’s eyes were razor-sharp. “If I ever see your face near this property again, I will personally ensure you spend the rest of your life begging on the streets.” My dad shivered, shrunk back, and ran off into the dark, stumbling over his own feet. Arthur turned to look at me. For the first time, he took my hand. “Let’s go home.” Ethan glared coldly at the direction my father had fled. Only after confirming he wouldn’t dare return did he turn and follow us back. Back in the living room, Arthur was clearly displeased by the scene. His face was grim as he went straight up to his study to deal with work. Ethan dragged Chloe off to the home theater. Once Eleanor made sure they were out of earshot, she completely lost her mind. She felt that Arthur having to step in and handle her trashy ex-husband made her lose all dignity in this house. She rushed up to me, grabbing my collar, sobbing hysterically. “Why can’t you just be invisible?! Why do you have to ruin everything?!” “Do you have any idea how hard I worked to get a scrap of respect in this house?” “You got here, and now it’s all ruined!” “That pathetic excuse of a father of yours actually came here to beg!” “What if Arthur decides to throw me out because of this?!” “Why did you choose to come with me in the first place?” “Do you just hate seeing me happy?!” She got more and more frantic, her nails digging into her own palms. Finally, she went quiet. She pulled a credit card out of her purse and threw it onto the coffee table. “Take this money and get out.” “Go live in a dorm, rent an apartment, do whatever you want.” “Just don’t come back here.” I looked at the woman who had given birth to me, yet looked at me with such pure disgust. I had long since grown used to her selfishness and coldness. I forced a pale, faint smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t be an eyesore for much longer.” My mother frowned, taking a step back in disgust. “Are you playing the victim again?” “I say two words to you and you look like you’re about to die—” Before she could finish her sentence. I felt a sudden, uncontrollable warmth rush down my nose. A thick drop of crimson blood fell onto the pristine white rug, bright and terrifying. Arthur and the twins had just walked back into the living room, catching the scene. Chloe let out a sharp gasp, covering her mouth. My vision began to blur. That familiar, tearing pain roared in my skull. Under their horrified gazes, my knees gave out. And I collapsed onto the floor.

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On my 30th birthday, I posted a picture of a wedding dress on my Instagram. Within minutes, Julian—the childhood friend who had rejected me ninety-nine times—called me. He specifically told me to put on the dress and meet him at City Hall. He said he had a massive birthday surprise for me. But when I stood outside the City Hall entrance, shivering in the cool breeze, I heard him laughing with his frat-boy friends behind me. “See? I told you she’d actually show up in a wedding dress. Pay up, boys! A hundred bucks each!” Then, Julian turned to me, winking and flashing that arrogant smirk of his. “Come on, Maya. It was just a joke. You didn’t seriously think we were getting married, did you?” “But hey, if you’re that desperate to get married, you can always just go inside and grab a random guy.” His friends burst into obnoxious laughter. I rolled my eyes. Honestly, I did have an appointment to get married today. But my groom wasn’t him. A few minutes later, when I walked out of the building arm-in-arm with another man, holding our marriage certificate, Julian’s face went completely pale.

Watching Julian collect cash from his friends one by one, a cold realization washed over me. Today was just another bet. Another game to make me look like a fool. The guys who lost the bet handed over their money, rolling their eyes at me in disgust. “Maya, do you have any idea how much money I’ve lost because of you? Get a grip, seriously!” “We’ve told you a thousand times, Julian is out of your league. Did you honestly think he’d ever marry you?” “You’ve been played like a fiddle at least ten times by now. How do you keep falling for this? You are hopelessly stupid!” I bit my bottom lip so hard I tasted copper. My nails dug into my palms. After pocketing the cash, Julian walked over to me. He actually had the nerve to look concerned. “What’s wrong, Maya? Aren’t you happy?” He turned to his friends and barked, “Hey, shut up, you jerks. Today is Maya’s birthday. Don’t ruin it for her.” Just when I thought a sliver of his humanity had returned, Julian pulled a ten-dollar bill from his pocket and held it out to me. He grinned. “Thanks to you, I just made two thousand bucks. Here’s ten dollars. Go buy yourself a slice of cake. Happy birthday.” His friends roared with laughter again. “Julian, you’re too nice! Watch out, or Maya’s going to fall even crazier in love with you!” “Look at her, she literally wore a wedding dress! She’s like a beggar begging for scraps, desperately trying to marry into the Vance family!” If this were the old me, I would have broken down in tears by now. I would have begged Julian to stop hurting me, to stop treating my heart like a toy. But this time, I calmly took the ten-dollar bill from his hand. “Thanks. The copy fee for the marriage certificate is ten dollars, and I didn’t bring cash.” Julian froze. Then, he let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Maya, did you leave your brain at home today? You’re still dreaming about marrying me?” “Are you blind? I was playing you.” “Honestly, I’ve seen desperate girls, but you really take the cake.” He shook his head with disgust, looking at me as if I were a piece of trash stuck to his shoe. Even though I had prepared myself for this, his words still pierced my heart like sharp arrows. I actually found out about his little bet yesterday. Someone had commented on my dress photo, saying I only bought it because I was jealous of Julian’s new girlfriend, Serena. The man I had loved for eight years knew exactly how much I adored him. And because of that, he knew exactly how to hurt me the deepest. He had completely forgotten the promise he made to me when we were younger. “Maya, if neither of us is married by thirty, let’s just get married to each other.” Today, I turned thirty. And I was indeed getting married. I just hadn’t told Julian that my groom wasn’t him.

The wedding dress I chose was a simple, ankle-length gown. My fiancé and I had picked it out together. I lifted my skirt and walked past Julian toward the City Hall entrance. But he grabbed my wrist, pulling me back. “Stop acting, Maya. Who are you trying to fool?” “If you’re really that desperate to get hitched, go inside and drag some random guy to the altar. Do me a favor and get married so you’ll finally stop stalking me.” I looked at his face, feeling too exhausted to even get angry. I just felt a profound, heavy sadness. The Julian who used to chase down bullies just to make them apologize to me was completely gone. This stranger had taken his place. I shook my head, trying to pull my hand away. Suddenly, a voice called out. “Julian!” It was Serena. Julian instantly let go of my wrist. To prove his loyalty to her, he pulled a sanitizing wipe from his pocket and meticulously wiped his hand. As if I were contagious. Serena walked up, looking confused. “Julian, what are you doing here?” Then she looked at me. “Maya? Are you getting married today? You’re even wearing a wedding dress.” Julian looked around nervously. He didn’t want Serena to know he had organized a bet around me. In a panic, he grabbed Brad from his group of friends and shoved him next to me, laughing loudly. “Serena, you’re so smart! You guessed it. Today is the big day for Maya and Brad!” “We all came out here to support them and wish them well.” His friends instantly caught on and chimed in. “Yeah, Serena! We’re celebrating Maya and Brad today!” I looked at Brad—who was shorter than me and wearing a greasy, stupid grin—and felt a wave of nausea. Seeing that Serena was still skeptical, Julian pushed Brad and me toward the doors. “Go on, go get registered! Serena wants to see!” I stumbled forward from his push. Brad actually had the audacity to grab my hand. He whispered in my ear, “Look, Maya, Julian’s never going to want you. But you’ve got a nice face and a decent body. I guess we could make it work.” I lost it. I ripped my hand away from his greasy grip and leaned against the wall, dry-heaving. Julian immediately mocked, “Oh my god, Maya. Are you pregnant? Is this a shotgun wedding?” “Brad, you dog! Nice job!” Serena joined in, her face beaming with fake sweetness. “Maya, I was so worried about your love life. I had no idea you’d find a husband and get pregnant so quickly. Congratulations!” I stood straight and looked coldly at Julian, who was still laughing hysterically. “You’re right,” I said quietly. “I am getting married today. But not to any of you losers. My fiancé is inside getting our queue number. Save your congratulations for him.” Julian’s laughter died instantly.

Just then, my phone buzzed. I answered it, nodding a few times. “The second floor? Okay, I’ll go up first. Sounds good.” I hung up, turned to the stunned Julian, and said, “I wore this dress because my fiancé hired a photographer to capture our day.” “This is the simplest gown of the seven dresses I bought. It’s easy to move in.” “Since you’re all here, you might as well take the invitations. My wedding is on the tenth of next month. You’re welcome to attend.” I pulled the elegant, gold-embossed invitations from my bag and handed them out. When I reached Julian, he refused to take it. One of his friends looked at the card and gasped. “The Grand Pierre Hotel? That’s the most expensive venue in the city! Maya, did you land a sugar daddy? He must be loaded.” Julian’s lips twitched, his eyes filled with utter disdain. “Maya, you really are committed to this act, aren’t you?” “Fake invitations? Booking The Grand Pierre? This is pathetic, even for you.” With two fingers, he took the invitation from his friend and tossed it onto the street. Serena glanced at the invitation on the ground and sighed. “Honestly, Maya, I have to side with Julian on this. There isn’t even a photo of the groom on the card. It looks totally fake.” We hadn’t had time to take engagement photos yet. Serena stepped closer, grabbing my hand with a look of pity. “Look, I know how you feel about Julian…” Julian suddenly went tense. “Serena, let me explain—” Serena waved him off. “Julian, you don’t have to explain. I know you two grew up together. You have history.” She turned back to me. “Maya, woman to woman, I get it. But you can’t force love. Julian has told you a million times that he only sees you as a sister.” “And since I’m practically your older sister now, let me give you some advice: stop this embarrassing show. The more you do, the more people are going to laugh at you.” The crowd behind her murmured in agreement. “Serena is so sweet and understanding!” “She’s a class act. Only someone as nice as Serena would try to save Maya from embarrassing herself!” Serena looked at me with pure condescension. “Come on, Maya. Let me help you take that dress off.” It was always like this. Whenever Julian humiliated me, Serena would step in to play the saint. And over time, Julian became convinced his girlfriend was an angel, while I was just a bitter, pathetic villain. I was about to push her away when she noticed the tag sticking out of the back of my dress. She grabbed it and read it aloud. “A designer dress? From this season’s collection?” She sighed. “Maya, my heart breaks for you. Did you rent this? You didn’t even take the tag off. You really don’t have to go this far…” Julian’s expression turned even more vicious. He pulled Serena into his arms, kissing her hair. “Serena, you’re too good for this world. Why are you even wasting your breath on a pathological liar like her?” Serena squeezed Julian’s shirt, playing the worried friend. “Julian, I’m sure Maya didn’t mean any harm. It’s just a girl’s vanity. She just needs someone to guide her.” My cheeks burned with humiliation. I clenched my fists and explained, “My fiancé bought it for me yesterday. I just forgot to cut the tag…” “Save it. If you lie enough, you start believing your own BS.” Julian chin-gestured toward me. “If you actually have a fiancé, Maya, call him out here. Let us see him.” His friends immediately chimed in. “Yeah, let’s see this imaginary billionaire!” “Show us the guy who can afford designer clothes and The Grand Pierre!” “Isn’t today your wedding day? Where is the groom?” We were standing right at the entrance of City Hall, and a crowd of strangers was starting to gather, whispering and staring at us. Brad, whom I had pushed away earlier, pointed at me and yelled to the crowd: “Hey everyone, look at this girl! She tried to ruin someone else’s relationship, got caught, and now she’s pretending she’s getting married today!” “Let’s see if her imaginary groom actually exists!” People stopped to point and whisper. Some even pulled out their phones to record me. The autumn wind felt freezing. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to shrink away. Serena shivered slightly. Julian immediately took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. He glared at me. “Maya, call your fake husband already. If Serena catches a cold because of your little stunt, you’re going to pay for it!” I lowered my head. I felt frozen from the inside out. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure when my fiancé would arrive. We had only met once. As the minutes ticked by and nobody appeared, the crowd around us grew larger. Phone cameras were practically shoved in my face. I kept backing up, trying to escape the lenses, until I bumped into a solid chest. “I’m sorry, I—” Before I could finish, a pair of strong, warm hands rested on my shoulders. “I should be the one apologizing.” “I’m sorry, Maya. The traffic was awful. I’m late.”

The voice was deep, smooth, and right at my ear. My heart leaped into my throat. I was almost too afraid to turn around. But the man behind me, sensing my tension, gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He took two steps forward, completely shielding me from the crowd. “Everyone, today is my wedding day with my beautiful bride. Please, have some chocolate.” As soon as he spoke, his assistant stepped forward from a sleek black SUV, carrying a large basket of expensive, artisanal chocolates to hand out. “Wow, this packaging is gorgeous. These must be expensive!” “The groom is so handsome, and the bride is stunning. They look perfect together!” “See? She wasn’t lying! They really are getting married. Who was the jerk calling her a homewrecker earlier?!” The crowd’s attitude flipped instantly. They turned around, looking for Brad. Seeing the tables turn, Brad tried to sneak away, which only made him look guiltier. “It was him! He tried to ruin this lovely couple’s big day!” The handsome groom standing in front of me, Ethan Carter, gave his assistant a slight nod. The assistant understood immediately, heading off to deal with Brad. Someone in the crowd gasped. “Wait, he looks so familiar… isn’t he…?” “Oh my god! He’s Ethan Carter! The CEO of Carter Enterprises! He was on the cover of Forbes last month!” My jaw dropped. I had met Ethan through a blind date arranged by our families. We had only met once. Both of us agreed we wanted to settle down, so we casually agreed to get married. I had no idea he was that Ethan Carter. The onlookers quickly deleted their videos and offered us warm smiles and congratulations. “Happy wedding day! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness!” Once the crowd dispersed, Ethan turned and gently took my hand. “Shall we go in, Maya? Let’s get our license.” I followed him like a robot, my brain completely blank. I couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Julian was frozen on the sidewalk. His face was a mix of confusion and pure, boiling rage. I didn’t understand. What did he have to be angry about?

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