The third time Professor Vance ignored my question, a line of text materialized in front of my eyes. One comment, glowing crimson, stood out from the rest. It was in that moment that I understood. I was the designated “evil rival” of this world, a character who didn’t even have the right to ask the male lead a question. Once I learned the truth, I promptly transferred to a different class with a different teacher. Later, when I won the grand championship in the National Mech-Crafting Competition and became the newest Gold-Tier Artisan, Kaelen Vance appeared on stage with a bouquet of flowers, his eyes filled with a soft light. “Aria,” he said, “if you ever have any professional questions, feel free to discuss them with me anytime.” I offered him a distant smile. “My master is more than capable of answering any questions I might have, but thank you for the offer. You should probably use that time to comfort your dear Chloe. She looks like she’s about to cry.” It seems that without the evil rival to drive the plot, the main characters’ halos just don’t shine as brightly, do they? 1 “Professor, I have a question. Why does this component assembly keep coming loose after I put it together?” It was the Q&A portion of Mech-Crafting, Section 7. I was the first to raise my hand, eager to ask Professor Kaelen Vance my question. He gave me a cursory glance before his eyes slid away, landing on Chloe, the girl in the row ahead of me who was currently dozing off. The moment his gaze touched her, his expression softened. He tapped her desk, his stern voice laced with an undercurrent of indulgence. “Chloe, do you have any questions?” I blinked, raising my hand a little higher. “Professor, I have a ques—” My words were cut short by a soft groan from Chloe. She stretched languidly, followed by a wide yawn, before asking in a daze, “What question? This component is so simple. Don’t you know how to do it, Professor?” A wave of laughter rippled through the classroom. Kaelen sighed, a hint of exasperation in his tone. “Go back to sleep.” “If there are no other questions,” he announced, “that’s all for today. Go to the materials lab and pick up one set of Kit #5 and one of Kit #6. Assemble them at home. I’ll be checking them tomorrow.” I shot to my feet. “Professor, I have a question—” It was as if he hadn’t heard me. He glanced at Chloe, who was already slumped back over her desk, blowing little spit bubbles in her sleep, and then turned and walked out of the classroom. I sank back into my seat, a mixture of humiliation, frustration, and wounded pride churning in my stomach. Why did he always ignore me? Why did he pretend not to hear me every single time I tried to ask him something? If he treated everyone this way, I wouldn’t be so upset. But it was so blatantly obvious that he favored Chloe. If she had a question, he would answer it with infinite patience. If she didn’t, he would still proactively ask if she understood the material. We were all his students. Why the differential treatment? It made me burn with jealousy, and I couldn’t help but resent her for it. Just as my glare was about to bore a hole through her back, several lines of text floated into view before my eyes. 2 I stared at the text, stunned. Male lead? Are they talking about Kaelen? My name is Aria. Since when was I a “goddamn snake”? And what budding romance? They’d only known each other for a week. Another comment, this one a conspicuous red, scrolled past, perfectly articulating my own thoughts. Exactly! That’s exactly right! If you’re going to be a teacher, you should treat all your students equally. Why should Chloe get special treatment? The floating lines of text provided the answer. Apparently, we were living in a novel, and I was the story’s designated “evil rival.” I was in love with Kaelen, and because I couldn’t stand his affection for Chloe, I constantly targeted her. According to the comments, I was about to steal Chloe’s materials to prevent her from finishing the assignment. But in a twist of fate, she would use the incomplete kit to create an even more powerful component, not only breaking the existing performance record for that part but also catching the eye of a legendary Master Artisan who would take her on as his final apprentice. Meanwhile, the component I was supposed to have stayed up all night perfecting wouldn’t even be deemed worthy of testing before being tossed into the recycling bin. By now, we had all collected our materials. Students who weren’t eating at the school cafeteria were free to go home. Chloe casually tossed her kit onto her desk, patted her stomach, and smacked her lips a few times before nudging her deskmate. “Nyx, wanna grab lunch at the cafeteria?” Her deskmate, Nyx, was a cool, aloof girl who preferred to be alone. I had tried to be friendly with her a few times before, but she’d been completely unresponsive. Yet, after knowing Chloe for less than a week, she was like a different person. Her icy gaze melted instantly. Though her expression remained neutral, her tone was soft. “Yeah.” The comments started scrolling again. I was, in fact, having a bit of a meltdown. I came from a wealthy family, raised as the apple of my parents’ eye. I had everything I could ever want. Because of my status, I was always surrounded by “friends.” I couldn’t say how many of them were genuine, but they all fell over themselves to please me. I had never been the one to initiate friendship. Except with Kaelen and Nyx. And, of course, they were the only two who treated me with disdain, while both giving Chloe their special attention. How could I not be furious? Watching them walk out, I grit my teeth and shot a look at Chloe’s materials on her desk. Just as they reached the door, Nyx paused. “You’re just going to leave your kit on the desk like that? Is that safe?” Chloe stuck out her tongue. “What could happen? Come on, let’s go, I’m starving.” The comments were a flurry of warnings. Steal it? My pride would never allow me to stoop so low. So I just gave the kit one last glance, then turned and left the classroom. I’d like to see how someone who slept through the entire class could possibly do a hundred times better than me. 3 “You see this part here? It’s a sliding component. You have to push this in first, then lock the piece below it into place. That should do it.” Professor Finch, the instructor for Section 1 of Mech-Crafting, patiently answered my question. It clicked instantly. I reassembled the part according to his instructions, and it worked perfectly. “Thank you, Professor Finch!” I beamed. He waved a hand dismissively. “A lot of people miss that little detail and fail the assembly. The fact that you noticed it on your first try is already very impressive.” I lifted my chin proudly. I was, after all, the top-ranked student in the Mech-Crafting department. That wasn’t just an empty title. Although, according to the comments, I wouldn’t be number one for long. My grades were apparently about to plummet… because after Chloe became a Master’s apprentice, I was supposed to become so consumed with jealousy that I’d spend all my time trying to sabotage her instead of improving my own skills. As if, I thought. I wasn’t stupid enough to waste my time trying to frame her. Getting obsessed with a man with questionable professional ethics and targeting a talented female peer over him? Was I insane? Speaking of which, how did she create a component with better performance? Could it be that the assembly didn’t actually require all these parts? With that question in mind, I started disassembling the component I had just put together. Professor Finch looked puzzled. “That was a solid assembly. It would have definitely tested above 90% performance. Why are you taking it apart?” Mechs were graded on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being the lowest. Each grade was further divided into low, mid, and high tiers. The same went for their components. A component needed to test at over 80% performance to be usable. Below 85% was low-grade, 85% to 90% was mid-grade, and above 90% was high-grade. The Kit #6 we received today was for a Tier-2 component. The current market record for its performance was 96.8%. But the version Chloe was supposed to create would reach a staggering 98.91%. I don’t deny that geniuses exist. But I was considered a genius too. If she could do it, so could I. I pressed my lips together. “I want to see if I can make it even better.” A look of admiration crossed Professor Finch’s face. “I like your spirit. That’s excellent.” Then, his tone grew a little wistful. “Why did you have to transfer to Section 7? With your grades, Section 1 is a much better fit for you.” I was originally a student in Section 1. The only reason I transferred was because of Kaelen Vance. Three years ago, my parents and I were on vacation when our ship was hijacked by interstellar pirates. It was Kaelen, a mech pilot at the time, who led the team that rescued us. He was everything I’d ever imagined a hero to be. I idolized him. As I got older, that idolization blossomed into a crush. When school started a week ago, I learned that he had taken a teaching position in Section 7. I immediately applied for a transfer, just to be closer to him. It had only been a week, and the rose-tinted glasses didn’t just crack; they shattered. “You’re right, Professor Finch,” I said. “Section 1 is a better fit. Can I… can I apply to transfer back?” 4 Professor Finch’s eyes lit up. He immediately pulled open a drawer and started rummaging for an application form. “Of course, you can! Anytime! You just keep working on your component. I’ll fill out the paperwork for you!” Watching him furiously scribbling away, I couldn’t help but smile. Whatever those comments said, I had no intention of playing a supporting role in someone else’s story. I didn’t care how their plot unfolded. My goal had always been the same: to become a Gold-Tier Artisan. … I didn’t sleep at all that night. I assembled and disassembled the two kits over and over, my hands blistering, until I finally discovered a new method. As dawn broke, I headed to the academy with dark circles under my eyes, carrying my newly assembled components to find Professor Finch for testing. When he saw the pile of unused parts I had left over, his jaw nearly hit the floor. He immediately took me to the testing lab and placed my component in the analysis chamber. Three seconds later, a set of numbers lit up the display… 5 “Who took Chloe’s materials? If you come forward now, I’ll overlook it. But if I have to find out who it was…” I was five minutes late for class. As I reached the door, I heard Kaelen’s cold, stern voice. “Then I can assure you, this academy will not tolerate a student with such poor moral character.” What was going on? Chloe’s materials were missing after all? I scanned the room. Chloe looked completely unbothered. Nyx was her usual stoic self. The other students just looked confused. The comments were scrolling by in a frenzy. I rolled my eyes. I didn’t steal anything. Why would I delete the footage? “Professor,” I called out from the doorway. Kaelen narrowed his eyes at me, not inviting me in. “Chloe’s materials are missing. Did you know about this?” I nodded. “I do now. You just said so.” He let out a knowing “Oh.” His tone was infuriating. “And what are your thoughts on the matter?” His expression, his tone… it was a clear accusation. “They’re missing, so you find them. What other thoughts could I have? If you don’t know how to do that, Professor, I can help you pull the security footage.” My defiant attitude seemed to take him by surprise. He frowned. “Whoever was bold enough to steal them wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave the security footage behind.” “Speaking of which,” he added, his eyes fixed on me, “why are you so late today? What were you doing?” He might as well have just announced to the whole class that I was late because I was busy tampering with the evidence. Sure enough, his words made every student in the room turn to look at me with suspicion. The scrolling comments were just as annoying. I ignored him, walked straight into the classroom, and went to my seat. “What I do is my own business. I don’t need to report to you.” “And another thing,” I added, “even if the footage was deleted, I can recover it. Just because you can’t do something, Professor Vance, doesn’t mean I can’t. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to get ‘your Chloe’ the justice she deserves.” Then, right in front of everyone, I made a call. “Dad, a student in my class had something stolen. Could you have someone pull the security footage for me?” After I hung up, Chloe turned to look at me, a dismissive expression on her face. “Aria, you don’t have to go to all that trouble. The materials are gone, so be it. I’ll just get another set and redo the assignment. I just hope the professor can give me a little more time.” So this time, she had lost all her materials. She clasped her hands together, batted her eyelashes playfully at Kaelen, and pouted. “Please?” Kaelen chuckled. “You. You just don’t care about anything, do you? But this is more serious than just a missing kit.” I cut him off. “The components we build are all sent for official collection. We can’t be even one set short.” The materials we used were supplied directly by a mech factory, and our finished components were sent straight to that same factory for use. “At its simplest, this is about missing materials. But on a larger scale, this affects the academy’s partnership and trust with the factory. This matter must be thoroughly investigated!” There was another reason I wanted a full investigation. My father was on the academy’s board of directors, and the factory we partnered with was owned by my mother. What was stolen was, essentially, my family’s property. Of course I was going to find it. I was going to slap the truth in the faces of every single person who had doubted me. With a direct order from a board member, it took less than half an hour for the Dean of Students to arrive at Section 7 with security and the surveillance footage. Halfway through the video, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Chloe, is this what you call ‘missing’?” The security footage was crystal clear. After lunch, she had returned to the classroom, picked up her kit, and left with it. She still had it when she walked out of the academy gates. The Dean, being the resourceful man he was, had even managed to obtain footage from outside the campus. It showed Chloe boarding a maglev train and traveling to a mech parts factory where she worked part-time. At the factory entrance, she ran into a gray-haired man who was wiping tears from his eyes. He was a worker there who had lost a component kit he’d taken home to assemble. Mech materials were expensive, and he was terrified of having to pay for it and losing his job. When Chloe learned he had lost a Kit #6, her kind heart took over, and she gave him her own. With the truth revealed, Chloe hung her head in embarrassment. After a moment, she looked up, a strained smile on her face. “If I miss one assignment, the worst that happens is I get a bad grade. But that man is the sole provider for his entire family. If he lost his job, how would they survive?” “I admit I shouldn’t have given away the materials,” she said, tears starting to well in her eyes, “but when I saw how desperate he was, I just couldn’t bear it…” I snorted. “I have no problem with you doing a good deed. But you shouldn’t do it with things that don’t belong to you, and you certainly shouldn’t lie about it being stolen. If we didn’t have this video, your lie would have branded every single person in this class as a potential thief.” “You couldn’t bear to see that man get fired, but you could bear to see us carry the weight of a crime we didn’t commit?” Chloe sobbed her apologies. “It was my fault. I have no excuse. I’ll pay for the materials myself, as compensation to the academy.” I scoffed. “You should pay for it. It was…” Kaelen cut me off, his voice cold. “Chloe was just being kind. Is it a crime to do a good deed now? That’s enough, Aria. Stop wasting everyone’s time.” His words made me laugh out loud. “The ones wasting everyone’s time are you and Chloe, aren’t they? One of you lies about being robbed, and the other suspends class to play detective for her. And now you’re trying to pin the blame on me? Professor Vance, try not to be such a hypocrite.” My retort left him with a thunderous expression and her with a pale, stricken face. Whatever lingering admiration I had for him was now completely gone. I had planned to stay for the rest of the class, but now I couldn’t stand to be in the room for another second. I gathered my things and headed for the door. “Class is in session! Where do you think you’re going?” Kaelen demanded. 6 I turned to face him, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I can’t afford to take your class, Professor. You should focus on teaching ‘your Chloe.’” His face darkened. “Do you think this class is a place you can just come and go as you please? Do you think your family owns this academy?” I rolled my eyes. “As a matter of fact, yes. They do.” He froze, about to say something else, but I had already turned and walked out. Whatever saccharine, exclusive love story they wanted to play out, I wanted no part of it. I had better things to do than waste my time on petty jealousy. Like assembling more components. Back in Section 1, I noticed that once I was away from the main characters, the floating comments disappeared. My life returned to its normal trajectory. And, because I hadn’t stolen Chloe’s materials, the plot had changed. She hadn’t been able to create that record-breaking component with a performance of 98.92%. But I had. My Kit #5 component tested at 99.36%, and my Kit #6 at 98.98%—both higher than her original record. I had thought that when these results were announced, the Gold-Tier Artisan, Master Valerius, might take me on as his apprentice, just as he was supposed to have done with Chloe. I was wrong. He never appeared, just as the original plot dictated. Without any interaction with the main characters, the comments remained gone. The days flew by in a blur of assembling and disassembling parts, and soon, it was time for the first-year final exams. The exam was designed by Master Valerius himself, and according to inside sources, he planned to choose one first-year student to be his final apprentice. I wanted to be that apprentice. So I practiced relentlessly, barely eating or sleeping, hoping he would notice me. What I didn’t know then was that some roles exist solely for the main character. No matter how hard a supporting character tries, it’s useless. The exam was scheduled for the afternoon. I couldn’t be bothered to go home for lunch, so I went to the cafeteria with a classmate. The moment I walked in, I saw Chloe. She was sitting with Nyx, her hair in a high ponytail, her face flushed with a healthy glow. The floating comments told me that she and Kaelen, through a series of entanglements, were now living together. They were in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, though they had to pretend to be just a normal teacher and student at the academy. I looked at the pink, bubbly blessings and envious comments on the feed and felt nothing. She saw me too and quickly looked away, offering Nyx a wry smile. “The difference between the rich and the poor really is huge. What they spend on one meal on the second floor is my entire month’s salary. There are less than thirty steps between the first and second floors, but the difference in status is a world apart.” “I’m glad I have you with me,” she added. “Otherwise, as the only poor person in this academy, I’d be all alone.” Nyx comforted her. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re much more capable than them. They all rely on their parents and families. You’re the only one who earns everything with your own two hands. In that respect, you’re stronger than any of them.” My classmate heard this and was about to explode. “Who do you think you’re—” I quickly grabbed her arm. “She’s not wrong. We’re not adults yet. Isn’t it normal to rely on our parents?” My classmate blinked, her mouth twitching. “Well… I guess so.” I pulled her toward the stairs. “So what’s there to be angry about? Let’s go eat. We have an exam this afternoon.” The old me would have blown up at those words. But the comments had told me what was supposed to happen. We were supposed to get into an argument, and because my group was larger, we would bully them mercilessly, even forcing them to eat food mixed with garbage. Kaelen would then swoop in and rescue them. Afterward, Chloe would tearfully challenge me in the middle of the cafeteria, declaring that if she beat me in the exam, I would have to publicly apologize. If she lost, she would drop out of the academy. Her courage, her defiance in the face of power, would make Kaelen fall for her even harder. It would also attract the attention of the story’s secondary male lead—my older brother, Adrian. And all of this would be witnessed by Master Valerius and the other masters from the second-floor dining area. Before the exam even began, my friends and I would already be disqualified in their eyes. Chloe, on the other hand, would earn their admiration. So I stopped my friend. I wasn’t about to engage in a self-destructive battle. What I didn’t expect was that even though I did nothing, Chloe still challenged me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393137”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Five years after they trapped my soul in these walls, some streamer shows up, looking to “cleanse” me with a bit of theatrical flair. Then he found my diary, and his bravado shattered into tears. Back then, their voices were a chorus of condemnation. “We gave her everything, and she was just an ungrateful viper.” “She made it all up! Every word is a lie!” “Lila Crawford is the worst kind of bitch. I hope she rots.” Even my own brother, my Tim, didn’t hold back. “She’s no sister of mine. It’s better that she’s dead.” Everyone wanted me dead. So now that I am, why are you all crying? … “What’s up, everyone! It’s your favorite ghost hunter, Ryker Blackwood, coming at you live!” “Tonight, you voted for it, and I’m delivering. We’re at the number one spot on your list: the infamous ‘Wall Murder’ house, the scene of a five-year-old cold case.” In the dead of night, Ryker’s high-powered flashlight beam cut through the darkness, dancing across a dilapidated front door. The air was thick with the smell of rot and damp earth, the yard a forgotten tangle of weeds. A lonely sliver of moon hung overhead, making the desolation feel absolute. Instantly, the live chat flooded with my name, intertwined with venom. Lila the Psycho. Lila the Liar. The comments poured in, a torrent of fury. “Ugh, why are we at her house? Total creep.” “Seriously, bad vibes, man.” “Didn’t Lila Crawford have guys rotating through here like a brothel? She had family money and set up her own little den of sin in this dump.” “Nah, I don’t buy it. What rich girl would live in a shithole like this?” “Ryker, you’ve changed. You’ll do anything for clicks now, won’t you?” “Let’s bounce, guys. This psycho doesn’t deserve the airtime.” The stream of hate was relentless. Ryker’s brow furrowed. The sheer vitriol from his audience was a headache, but the viewer count was skyrocketing. The show had to go on. “Easy, everyone. You know me,” he said, his voice a smooth, confident balm. “I’m a paranormal investigator. I’m here to show you what’s really going on, not to whitewash the reputation of a girl who’d screw over her own brother.” He brandished a sleek, dark blade for the camera, a glint in his eye. “And don’t you worry. If this malevolent spirit decides to show her face, I’ll personally send her screaming back to hell.” A wave of approval surged through the chat. Cheers and digital thumbs-ups praised Ryker for his tough stance. He took a deep breath, the stench of decay filling his lungs, and approached the door. A gentle push was all it took. The door groaned and collapsed inward with a deafening crash, revealing the scene within. Ryker froze, his bravado vanishing. “Damn it!” Across town, Tim Crawford slammed his fist on a mahogany desk, the crystal wine glass in his other hand shattering. Red wine and blood dripped onto the polished surface. “Lila!” he hissed, the name a curse. “Why won’t that bitch just stay dead and buried?” “Five years, and she still finds a way to haunt us.” He lit a cigarette with a trembling hand, watching the smoke curl towards the ceiling. He stabbed at his phone, dialing a number. “This can’t get to Talia. I don’t want Lila’s name causing her any more pain.” Just as he spoke, Talia herself appeared in the doorway, a vision of fragile beauty. She stopped, her eyes wide with a practiced sorrow. “Tim, darling,” she said, her voice a soft, mournful whisper. “Let the dead rest. I’ve… I’ve made my peace with it.” She drifted closer, her touch a light caress on his arm. “What Lila did to me was unforgivable… but she paid the price. We have to look forward. I don’t want to dwell on the past anymore.” At that moment, my father emerged from his study, his face a mask of cold fury. “Good riddance to that girl!” he snarled. He ordered Tim to cast the livestream onto the massive television screen on the wall. Still seething, he poured himself a glass of red wine and downed it in one go. “A disgrace to the family name. Five years dead and still causing trouble. Let’s see what kind of circus she’s orchestrated this time.” On the screen, Ryker’s voice, now laced with shock, crackled through the speakers. “What in the world is this?” 2 The interior walls were a canvas of horror, choked with moss and skeletal ivy. Peeking through the grime and decay were faint, dark stains that looked sickeningly like dried blood. After a moment of stunned silence, the live chat erupted. Ryker, moving as if in a trance, stepped forward, zooming the camera in for a close-up. The chat window became a blur of frantic text. “What the hell? Is Lila Crawford for real? This is disgusting!” “She was always an attention whore. Probably faked this whole scene before she offed herself.” “I heard she used to kill chickens for weird rituals. She probably just splashed animal blood everywhere.” “Remember when she went on live crying with a bogus depression diagnosis? Then she was dead a week later.” “Maybe some hero got tired of her ‘I wanna die’ drama and just did her a favor. LOL.” “LMAO! Good riddance!” Funny, isn’t it? My death became a party for strangers. They dance on my grave without even knowing my name, fueled by whispers and lies. They believe their judgment is righteous, but their self-proclaimed justice is built upon my bones. Ryker frowned, his showman’s mask gone. He scanned the room, his eyes sharp, before pulling out a strange-looking device—a spirit compass. Whoosh! A sudden gust of wind slammed through the house, wrenching a loose window from its frame. The filthy curtains billowed like specters, carrying a tattered, dust-covered book with them. It landed on the floor with a soft thud. A diary. Ryker picked it up and opened it to the first page. His voice, trained for broadcasting, was clear and resonant as he began to read. “July 12, 2016. The man who says he’s my brother, Tim, came for me today. He said he was sorry, that it was all his fault I was taken from our family as a baby. I’m so happy. I have a brother. A real brother.” He read on about how our parents’ welcome was lukewarm, but Tim assured me they just had a hard time showing their love. I clung to him. For the first time in eighteen years of foster homes and loneliness, I had someone who cared. He’d call me his “shadow,” but he always let me tag along. When kids at my new school called me a backwoods hick, he’d get into fights for me. When Mom and Dad punished me for it by sending me to bed without dinner, Tim would sneak me a sandwich. “You didn’t have to take the blame, he’d said, ruffling my hair. They wouldn’t have really done anything to me. From now on, you’ve got me. You don’t have to face everything alone anymore.” His smile was my sun. I nodded, my heart swelling. Having a brother is the best thing in the world. I wasn’t alone anymore. He was the best person on earth. As Ryker’s voice filled the dead air, even I felt a pang of sorrow for the girl I used to be. The girl who was Tim Crawford’s treasured little sister, not the monster they all spat on. I remembered believing my life had finally turned a corner, that I’d never have to fight for scraps of affection again. In his mansion, Tim fell silent. The words from the diary seemed to transport him back to that first day, to those early months filled with a fragile, hopeful bond. For a fleeting moment, a wave of sickness washed over him. How had the sister he’d sworn to protect become… this? But then, Talia’s face, a mask of perfect anguish, broke through his reverie. She tightened her grip on his arm, her eyes welling with fresh tears. “Oh, Tim,” she choked out. “It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, Lila… she wouldn’t have… she wouldn’t be dead.” “Your bond was so special. I ruined everything…” “I’m the one who killed your sister, Tim. It’s all my fault.” 3 Talia’s sobs sliced through Tim’s nostalgia, and his expression turned to ice. The warmth of memory evaporated, replaced by a familiar, cold resentment. He pulled her into his arms, his embrace protective. “Talia, don’t say that. This was never your fault.” His voice was a low growl. “If it weren’t for Lila, you wouldn’t have been hurt. You wouldn’t have lost… our baby.” “It was all her greed, her jealousy.” As he spoke, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. The pain grounded him. He pressed a kiss to Talia’s forehead. “She destroyed our child. She doesn’t deserve the title of sister.” My parents, who had never shown me an ounce of genuine affection, were now fussing over Talia, cooing at her. “Talia, darling,” my mother said, her voice dripping with sympathy. “I told them it was a mistake to bring that creature back. She was toxic from the start. To think she’s the reason you still haven’t been able to carry a child to term… it’s just monstrous.” “Don’t you dwell on it, sweetheart,” my father added. “You and Tim should start planning the wedding.” He glanced at the television with pure venom. “You were always the daughter we raised. Our true daughter. As for that little beast…” he trailed off with a sneer. “Let her antics attract some real spiritualist, some charlatan who thinks he can perform an exorcism. She’s so desperate for attention she’s practically begging to have her soul obliterated. Fine. Let her have her wish.” Their perfect family unit, cozy and complete. I was always the intruder, the flaw in their masterpiece. On the screen, Ryker turned to the second page of the diary. In the corner of the dilapidated room, a faint, shimmering figure began to form. My figure. It hovered near the shattered vanity mirror, its lips moving, whispering a single, desperate plea that no one could hear: “Save me!” “September 15, 2016. It was Thanksgiving. I came home and found Talia curled up in Tim’s arms, whispering and laughing. It was the first time I’d ever seen Mom and Dad look at someone with such open, doting affection. Tim saw me and called me over. He explained that Talia was the girl they’d adopted and raised, thinking she was me. He said she’d been away on a trip to give me space to settle in. They told me not to be petty about it. Tim promised he would treat both of his sisters equally. I just nodded, numb, as Talia took my hand in hers. A second later, she screamed. A thin line of blood was welling up on her palm. The world exploded. A slap stung my cheek. They were all screaming at me, calling me vicious, a bully. But I didn’t do anything. I swear I didn’t do anything.” “December 25, 2016. Talia wanted a big Christmas. She got a mountain of presents. I’d been working a part-time job, and I used my own money to buy gifts for Mom, Dad, Tim… and even for her. I never got the chance to give them. I found them in the trash can later that night. I heard Tim comforting Talia. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart. A maid probably just brought in some junk from outside. This cheap trash isn’t worthy of my beautiful, precious sister.’ When I tried to pull them out of the garbage, Talia gasped dramatically. ‘Oh my God, Lila! Didn’t Mom and Dad give you any money? Why are you digging through the trash?’ Tim came over and told me to stop making a scene.” “January 27, 2017. New Year’s Eve. Tim asked me what my dreams were. I told him I wanted to go to a good university. He promised he’d have a special gift for me on the day I got my acceptance letter. I got the letter. That night, I celebrated with a glass of champagne they gave me. Then everything went black. I woke up, and there were so many people… I was terrified. They told me I’d wanted it. They said if I told Tim, they would send the pictures to everyone. I was so scared. I went home in a daze, and they beat me. They screamed at me for being a tramp, for disgracing the family name. And Tim… the one who had sworn to protect me… he just looked at me with such disgust. I wanted to scream the truth, but I was too afraid…” 4 “February 14, 2017. I saw Talia kissing a photograph of Tim. She told me she loved my brother. She told me to stop clinging to him.” Ryker paused, the silence in the house heavy and profound. The diary painted a portrait not of a monster, but of a desperate, lonely girl starved for affection, systematically isolated and abused. The brother who was her only anchor had become just another one of her tormentors. He couldn’t reconcile this broken girl with the venomous reputation that had preceded her. The live chat, however, saw it differently. “OMG, she was in love with her brother! That’s why she drugged him!” “So f*cking twisted. He was nice to her and she tried to rape him.” “No wonder she went after Talia. She was jealous that her brother was with his actual love.” “What a psycho bitch!” “Being lonely is no excuse for being a disgusting creep.” The screen filled with insults, a digital mob baying for blood. Suddenly, the spirit compass in Ryker’s hand, which had been spinning erratically, shattered with a loud crack. The chat went silent. The sudden, violent event shocked them out of their frenzy. Ryker’s face was pale. The others might not understand, but he knew what a shattered compass signified: a spirit in immense, unbearable pain. “Alright, everyone, calm down,” he said, his voice a little shaky. “Let’s see what else is in here.” He turned the page and continued reading. The tone of the diary shifted. Amidst the fear and threats, a fragile hope began to bloom. She wrote about trying to build a new life for herself, about deciding to open her heart again. She even wrote about meeting a kind boy. Ryker found himself smiling. It felt like a small victory. She was finding her own love, no longer begging for the scraps her family threw her way. The pages that followed were filled with the sweet, simple joys of a first love, a stable and happy relationship. But the sweetness was short-lived. The diary’s tone soured once more. “June 18, 2018. I saw my boyfriend kissing Talia. When I confronted her, she just laughed at me. She called me pathetic. ‘Your brother, your parents, your boyfriend… it doesn’t matter,’ she sneered. ‘All I have to do is crook my little finger, and they’ll always, always choose me.’ A few days later, he broke up with me. He said I was just damaged goods.” Across town, Tim shifted uncomfortably, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. He glanced at Talia, wondering for the first time if there was any truth to the words in the diary. He’d always believed he was fair, that he only sided with Talia because Lila was the one causing trouble. But now… the narrative felt tangled, chaotic. Was it possible Lila had been writing the truth? No. Talia loved him. She would never do something so cruel. It had to be another one of Lila’s lies. “July 20, 2018. Tim and Talia announced their engagement. She was so kind to me at the party, pulling me aside to offer a strange, veiled apology. Later, when I went to the bathroom, the five men from that night were waiting for me. They told me I had to pay them one million dollars, or they’d release everything.” “August 3, 2018. I was held captive for ten days. In that time, they posted the high-resolution photos all over the internet. My brother called me, screaming that I was a whore who had brought shame on their name. My parents told me to get out of their house and never come back. I walked the streets feeling like the whole world was laughing at me. I went to the police, but they said the men claimed it was consensual. There was no evidence. No one believed me.” “September 20, 2018. The doctor says I have severe depression. The university expelled me. And then, the ultimate nightmare: Talia told me she orchestrated everything.

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Three days before my wedding, a car swerved and turned my spine into a shattered ruin. My fiancée, Victoria, made a great show of ensuring the driver was sent to prison. I lay in a hospital bed, a ghost trapped in a broken body, refusing to wake up to the nightmare of my new reality. In that hazy twilight of consciousness, I heard Victoria speaking with my doctor. “Ms. Hayes, if we operate now, we can still save him. A few more days, and Mr. Crawford will be paralyzed for life! You just want Avery as your groom—is it really worth condemning a man to this?” the doctor pleaded, his voice low and urgent. Victoria’s reply was ice. “Paralyzed is paralyzed. I’ll take care of him for the rest of his life. If he recovers, he’ll destroy the wedding.” Her voice dropped even lower, a conspiratorial whisper. “I promised Avery I would welcome our child into the Hayes family with all the dignity he deserves. Only when Ethan is completely broken will he love my child as his own. A cripple is manageable. At least he won’t be able to hurt my son.” In a corner no one was watching, a single tear traced a path from the corner of my eye, disappearing into the pillow. So, this was the truth. The wedding I had anticipated for so long was nothing but an elaborate lie. The love I believed was my salvation was actually my death warrant. Fine. If this is what she wanted, I would play my part. 1 “No more questions. Stick to the plan,” Victoria commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. “The vasectomy needs to be clean. I don’t want him finding out.” “Once he’s awake, I’ll take him to the children’s home to pick up our son. When he knows he can never have children of his own, he will cherish Rosie with all his heart.” The doctor wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, his face etched with pity. “Ms. Hayes, please, reconsider. The man is already a paraplegic. This surgery… it’s not just his body you’re mutilating, it’s his spirit. How will he ever hold his head up in front of your family? For God’s sake, he’s a man…” “Besides,” the doctor added, his voice dropping, “your son with Mr. Quinn is three years old now. The boy is the spitting image of you. If Ethan ever finds out, everything will be ruined!” Victoria ignored his plea. She reached over, her movements practiced and steady, and gently wiped my chapped lips with a damp cloth. Her voice was filled with a strange, sorrowful affection. “He won’t find out. Once he’s a cripple, he’ll be confined to the Hayes estate for the rest of his life. He’ll never take a step outside those walls.” Her voice hardened again. “I promised Avery I would give him a magnificent wedding. I promised I would watch our child grow up. Even if he’s married to someone else now, I will never let him face any hardship alone.” The doctor let out a long, defeated sigh, his gaze falling on my pale, still face. “Ethan is a good man. You two grew up together… and yet you’re still chasing that… never mind. It’s your choice. Do as you wish.” “Prepare for surgery,” she ordered. “And remember: be discreet. I don’t want any scars. Do it before Ethan wakes up. I don’t want him to feel too much pain.” The doctor hurried out of the room. Victoria pulled out her phone and sent a voice message to her assistant. “The driver didn’t talk, did he? Pay his family the two million, as we agreed. Help them move out of the state. Make sure Ethan never finds them.” Tears streamed uncontrollably from my eyes, soaking the pillow beneath my head. All the while, Victoria continued to gently sponge my body with warm water, yet a profound, bone-deep chill spread through me. So, the wedding I had dreamed of for five years was just a stepping stone for Avery. The car crash was no accident. It was just her, clearing an obstacle for her true love. The happiness I thought was mine was a mirage, a beautiful, fragile bubble. The truth of our relationship was built on a foundation of lies and brutal betrayal. I fought to open my eyes, to scream, to rage. But a sharp prick in my arm was followed by a spreading numbness. Anesthesia. Just before they wheeled me into the operating room, Victoria leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to my lips. “Shh, my love. It will be over soon,” she whispered. “I’ll be waiting for you, Ethan.” The cold, metallic instruments twisted inside me, and my shattered heart turned to ice. When I next opened my eyes, I was back in the private room. Below my waist, there was nothing. No feeling, no sensation. Just a dead weight that used to be my body. Victoria was at my bedside, her face a perfect mask of worry. The moment I stirred, she took my hand, pressing it to her cheek. “Ethan? You’re awake! Are you in pain? Does anything hurt?” she asked, her voice filled with concern. “Tell me, and I’ll have them change your medication.” The same adoring expression she had always worn, but now, her eyes were cold, empty voids. It was astonishing, the lengths one person would go to for another. I shook my head weakly, my hand reaching up to touch her face. “You haven’t slept, have you? I’m okay. You should rest.” She didn’t question it. Seemingly relieved, she relaxed her guard and soon drifted off to sleep in the chair beside me. I reached for her phone on the nightstand. It unlocked with a familiar swipe. The wallpaper was one of our pre-wedding photos, a picture of two people madly in love. Her messaging app was still open. The pinned contact was simply named “Avery.” I tapped on it. The chat log was filled with cute cat emojis and dozens of photos of Avery holding a small child. “Rosie was calling for Mommy again today. She’s so little but already knows her mom is beautiful. She’s going to be a heartbreaker.” “Rosie had a great appetite today. She ate the whole cake you sent, all by herself.” “Rosie wants to go to the amusement park with her mom. She won’t listen to me. Can you find some time to come over?” Victoria hadn’t replied in text. But beneath each photo was a log of a two-hour video call. I remembered her telling me once that she didn’t like children. I finally understood. It wasn’t that she didn’t like children. She just didn’t want a child with me. She had a private photo album dedicated to Avery. The password was the child’s birthday. Five thousand photos chronicled three years of a little boy’s life. For every major holiday, every milestone, Victoria was there, by their side. The second chat was with the wedding planning company. From the very beginning, a month ago, the groom’s name on all the documents was Avery Quinn. The tuxedo was tailored to his measurements. The invitations were penned in their joint handwriting. From the start, she never intended for me to be at my own wedding. A bitter, self-mocking smile twisted my lips. I didn’t need to see any more. I used her phone to contact my best friend, Mark, and told him to find me a hospital abroad, one that could perform a restorative surgery. I also had him begin the process of erasing my identity in this country. Mark didn’t ask too many questions. He just assumed I had finally seen Victoria for the monster she was, his messages filled with relief and support for me. I put the phone down and let sleep claim me. I was awakened by the sound of Victoria’s heartbroken sobs. She was clutching a hospital report, her shoulders shaking. “Ethan… the doctors… they found something during the tests,” she choked out. “It’s a congenital condition. You… you can’t have children.” “But don’t worry,” she rushed to add, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t care. I’ll never leave you. No matter what, you will always be my husband.” “When you’re out of the hospital, we can adopt a child, okay? Having a child around will help you heal. You’ll get better, I promise.” I was the one who had supposedly lost the ability to have children, but she looked more devastated than I did. Her performance was flawless. I was too tired to call her on it. After a long silence, I looked at the falsified report in her hand and gave a slow, deliberate nod. Tears of gratitude streamed down her face as she pulled me into a tight embrace. “I will take care of you, Ethan. Don’t be afraid. No matter what anyone says, I will always be on your side. After we’re married, I’ll transfer all my assets to your name. As a guarantee.” Our chests were pressed together, but our hearts beat to entirely different rhythms. After a moment, she pulled back, her expression hesitant. “It’s just… the wedding is all set. With your body still recovering, perhaps we should…” “Find someone to stand in for me,” I finished for her. “We can’t lose face for the Hayes family.” I knew what she wanted. Better to offer it myself than to be maneuvered into it. At least this way, I could retain a shred of dignity. Victoria was stunned by my easy compliance, but with her goal achieved, she didn’t press the matter. Her phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced at it, and her brow furrowed. “Ethan, what’s this about canceling your official documents?” I quickly swiped the notification away. “It’s nothing,” I said smoothly. “Just an old ID that expired. It’s all done online.” She accepted the explanation without another thought, pulling me into an even tighter hug, her voice thick with pity. “You’re not well. Anything you need, just tell me. I’ll handle it for you.” “Victoria,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “I want to go home.” A flash of panic crossed her face. “No. You’re not recovered. I can’t allow it.” I gently caressed her cheek, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Didn’t you say you wanted to take me to adopt a child? We have nurses at home. Nothing will happen. I just… I want to see the children’s home. Please?” In five years together, it was the first time I had ever shown her such vulnerability. She couldn’t resist. She softened and agreed. On the way, she pulled out a selection of cakes she had waiting in the car, laying them out for me. She said she’d bought them especially for me. But the label, clearly marked ‘Safe for Toddlers,’ was another small, sharp sting. I closed the bag and tossed it into the back seat, feigning fatigue and closing my eyes. This five-year charade was about to end. We had just entered the children’s home, me in my wheelchair, when a little girl ran up and hugged Victoria’s leg, chanting “Mommy, Mommy!” over and over. Victoria’s face paled. Fearing my suspicion, she explained hurriedly, “Don’t misunderstand. I’m a patron of this home. I’ve visited a few times, and this little girl is an orphan. She calls me that.” I nodded, smiling as I reached out to pat the child’s head. “She looks a lot like you. If you hadn’t told me, I would have thought she was yours.” “What’s her name?” “Rosie. She’s the one I was planning to adopt.” Before she could say more, Rosie started crying, wailing for her “Daddy.” Victoria’s face went white. She shot a nervous glance at me. “It’s fine,” I said, my voice calm. “Go comfort her. She’s a beautiful child. I like her too.” My words were a balm to her panic. She relaxed, scooped the child into her arms, and disappeared into an office. I made an excuse about needing the restroom and wheeled myself away. But as I neared the hallway, I could hear the staff gossiping. “Why is Ms. Hayes making her own kid pretend to be an orphan? That outfit is designer, worth more than my life. Who’d believe she’s an orphan?” “You don’t get it. This is her plan to get the kid into the family legitimately. Just play along and don’t slip up in front of Mr. Crawford.” “Figures. Her heart always belonged to Mr. Quinn. They used to volunteer here together back in college. I knew it then. A man and a woman, alone in that office… wonder what they’re up to right now…” Their suggestive laughter was a physical weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I moved my wheelchair to the office door. I could hear familiar voices from within. “Is she good to you?” It was Avery. “She’s fine,” another voice replied, a woman’s. “She’s in another country most of the time, so she can’t take care of everything. Which is good. She won’t find out about Rosie. She’s even talking about having a baby with me.” Victoria’s voice, laced with a bitter amusement. “Once Rosie is officially a Hayes, you won’t have to worry. Just message me if you need anything. Oh, and here. I bought you this watch. A wedding gift.” Avery accepted it with a flirtatious wink. “Another gift? We’ve only been married a year, how many wedding presents is that? My closet is overflowing. Ethan would be upset if he knew.” He said it, but his hands moved quickly to secure the gift. Rosie giggled, throwing her arms around him, calling him “Daddy.” Just then, the director of the home, eager to process the paperwork, rushed toward me and threw open the office door. A flash of pure panic crossed Victoria’s eyes. “Ethan! What are you doing here?” “Don’t get the wrong idea,” she stammered. “Avery is a volunteer here. He just happened to be visiting today, to talk about me adopting Rosie…” Avery stood up, holding Rosie, and gave me a casual wave. “Ethan. Long time no see.” I sat in my wheelchair, forced a smile, and choked back the wave of nausea. “It’s fine. I was just looking around. Since you’re busy, I won’t bother you. I’ll wait in the car.” I turned and left. Victoria, thinking I was angry, chased after me, offering a flurry of explanations. “Don’t misunderstand. He volunteers here all the time. All the kids call him ‘daddy.’ I’ll explain it to Rosie once the adoption is final.” Seeing her so flustered on my account was almost funny. She had orchestrated a car crash to paralyze me, all to bring this child into her home. Now that her wish was granted, who was this pathetic, guilt-ridden act for? “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not that unreasonable. You finish the paperwork. I’ll be good and wait in the car.” She breathed a sigh of relief and watched me go. Every staff member I passed looked at me with an expression of pity and contempt. I ignored them, took out my phone, and finalized the cancellation of my identity. To celebrate bringing Rosie home, the Hayes family held a dinner party. I used my recovery as an excuse to stay upstairs. But the mocking laughter of Victoria’s parents drifted up from below. I wheeled myself to the landing. I could see the three of them—a perfect family—at the dining table. Victoria was lovingly placing Rosie’s favorite foods on her special plate. Avery was teasing her, saying she would spoil the child rotten. Victoria just smiled, stroking the little tiara in Rosie’s hair. “She’s my daughter. She could burn the world down, and it would still be her greatest achievement.” The dam of suppressed grief inside me finally broke. I went back to my room and began tearing apart every gift Victoria had given me over the past five years, throwing the pieces into the trash. As the bin toppled over, Avery suddenly appeared in the doorway. He kicked my wheelchair, sending me sprawling to the floor. Pain shot through me, and I broke out in a cold sweat. He just grinned down at me. “Hurts, doesn’t it, Ethan? Being a broken man.” “All these years, and you’re still as useless as ever.” “Watching your own wedding happen with my name in your place. Watching your wife bring home my son. And you have to just swallow it all. I almost feel sorry for you.” I struggled to pull myself up.

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A month before our wedding, Lord Damian secretly rode to his childhood sweetheart. Fearing scandal, he hired a sorcerer to create his perfect double. “What if Lady Seraphina finds out?” his squire worried. “She won’t,” Damian sneered. “Even if she does, she’d never break the betrothal. The court knows she clings to me like a burr—tiresome, but harmless. Clara deserves better. Seraphina should be grateful to be my mistress.” Behind the tapestry, I trembled. I, who knew every star in his eyes, would surely spot an imposter. Yet this was his cruel plan. On our wedding day, Damian returned with Clara just as I approached Thorne Cathedral in silver and pearls. He dragged me onto cobblestones, my veil torn, jeweled circlet scraping bloody trails down my face. Then I saw it—his automaton rushing toward me. 1 “Seraphina! How dare you proceed with this wedding behind my back?” The voice was familiar, laced with a fury I knew well. Damian was back. A ripple of confusion and excitement went through the crowd of onlookers. “Who is that man? To speak to a daughter of House Ashton in such a way, does he court death?” “He looks familiar… just like Lord Damian, the groom! Can it be him?” “Impossible. On his wedding day, Lord Damian should be waiting at the altar. This man isn’t even wearing his wedding doublet. He must be here to cause trouble!” Hearing the whispers, Damian’s face darkened. A guard from House Thorne moved to intervene but hesitated upon seeing his lord’s face. “My lord, what are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be—” “Did my messenger not reach you?” Damian cut him off, his glare fixed on me. “I sent word that this wedding was to be canceled at all costs! Why is the entire city celebrating our union today?” My hands clenched into fists, my knuckles turning white. I never imagined he would shame me so publicly. Today was meant to be our wedding day, a betrothal I had fought tooth and nail to secure. It began two years ago. My grandmother lay gravely ill, and in my grief, I rode to the old abbey in the hills to pray. The mountain road was treacherous. A wheel of my carriage struck a rut, and I was thrown violently from my seat. I closed my eyes, bracing for the impact. Instead, I fell into a warm, strong embrace. I opened my eyes cautiously. As I did, the string of the man’s simple riding mask snapped, revealing a face of breathtaking beauty. Flustered, he murmured, “Be careful, my lady,” and was gone before I could find my voice. It was love at first sight. Later, at a court banquet, I saw him again. He was Lord Damian, the heir to the Dukedom of Thorne. He didn’t seem to recognize me. From that day on, I cast aside the decorum of a highborn lady and pursued him with a singular focus. I shamelessly orchestrated “chance” encounters, desperate to make him see me. I spent nights embroidering a handkerchief with his sigil and had it delivered to him. Then, I overheard the whispers. He had a childhood love, Clara, the daughter of a Knight-Banneret. My courage failed me. I retreated, ceasing my pursuit. But he sought me out. He cornered me in the palace gardens, showing me the embroidered handkerchief tucked into his belt. It was the one I had made. He smiled, a slow, intoxicating smile. “Seraphina of House Ashton, what is the meaning of this favor?” Mortified, I reached for it, but he deftly blocked my hand. “You have another you are sworn to! Give it back! Forgive my intrusions these past months!” For the first time, his smile reached his eyes. “She is but a friend. And you… do you truly not understand my heart?” That night, emboldened, I begged my father to petition the King for a royal decree, uniting our houses through marriage. I believed our love was mutual. I never imagined that on the day the decree was announced, Clara would quietly leave the capital. And Damian, panicked, finally realizing where his heart truly lay, rode after her, leaving a perfect imitation in his place to fool a kingdom, and a bride. I was the biggest fool of all. 2 “So, Lord Damian knew nothing of this wedding? Is House Ashton forcing his hand?” “And the lady beside him… that must be his true love. Has he been bewitched by this Seraphina?” Hearing the crowd’s speculation, Clara swayed, a picture of tragic beauty. “Damian, my love… perhaps I should not have returned. I will leave at once…” “Forgive me, this is your wedding day. I have been thoughtless…” She turned to go, then collapsed as if her strength had given out. “Clara!” Damian caught her, scooping her into his arms. He turned to me, his voice dripping with disappointment. “Seraphina, Clara is innocent in this. How could you allow these rumors to spread? A lady’s honor is paramount. Do you mean to destroy her?” Watching him clutch her so tightly, my eyes began to sting. Did he ever once consider what would become of my honor if I had begged my father to rescind a royal decree? I remained silent, but my handmaiden, Elspeth, could not. “My lord, you go too far!” she cried. “When did you ever send word to cancel this union? Why, just three days ago, you were at Ashton Manor, telling my lady to prepare herself with a joyful heart!” The crowd murmured in agreement. “It’s true! For the past month, the young lord has been visiting every jeweler in the city, buying every piece that would suit Lady Seraphina!” “And the pastry shop on the West Street she loves so much! Lord Damian has been there before dawn every morning, just so she could have them fresh from the oven!” “He took her boating on the river just last week! The love in his eyes was plain for all to see!” “My lord, this is your wedding day! Put aside this quarrel, change into your finery, and wed your bride!” The chorus of voices made Damian’s face flush with anger. But in his arms, Clara, with a sly, secret smile, let out a small gasp. “Oh! But… for the past month, Damian has been with me, taking the air in the southern provinces. How could he possibly have been in the capital?” Her voice was not loud, but it silenced the entire square. The whispers began anew. “I saw the young lord riding back into the city from the country this morning. Why would he be traveling so close to his own wedding?” “But the man in the capital was Lord Damian. We all saw him.” “Wait… are you an imposter?” Amid the rising suspicion, Damian sneered and produced the heavy signet ring of his house. “Open your eyes and see what this is!” Elspeth gasped in disbelief. “Impossible! There must be some mistake! My lord, you were with my lady every day for the past month!” My nails, I realized, had dug so deeply into my palms they had drawn blood. My marriage to House Thorne was decreed by the King himself. Would Damian truly admit to using a double, an automaton, in his place? It would not only be a mortal insult to my family, but a slap in the face to the King. 3 “Damian, my love, you must tell them the truth. Tell them where you have been.” Clara tugged shyly at his sleeve. “Clara and I have indeed spent the last month in the south. We only returned today.” His words sealed my fate. “Lady Seraphina,” Clara said, her voice filled with false pity. “I know you adore my Damian, but you cannot hire a stand-in while he is away! To have this… imposter… play the part of your loving fiancé for all to see… why would you do this to yourself? Damian doesn’t love you. You must let him go.” The crowd erupted. It was all too scandalous to believe. Damian said nothing, merely tightening his grip on Clara’s hand in tacit agreement. I stared at him, my heart a cold, dead weight. He had caused this entire mess, yet he was content to let all the blame fall on me. Was there truly not an ounce of affection for me in his heart? “How dare you spread such lies! Do you seek to ruin my lady’s name?” Elspeth’s eyes were red with fury. “Insolence!” Damian roared. “You are but a servant! Seize her!” Guards surged forward and restrained Elspeth. “Let her go!” I commanded. “Clara, you may slander me, but House Ashton is not so easily trifled with!” Clara flinched, which only made Damian’s expression soften toward her and harden toward me. “Seraphina,” he said, his voice now like ice, “you claim you did not find a substitute. Where is your proof?” He smiled, a smirk of absolute victory. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. Could it be that the man… “I knew it,” someone in the crowd jeered. “She was always trailing after him like a stray dog. Lord Damian was never more than civil to her. It was strange how he suddenly seemed so besotted.” “Look at them! Lord Damian and Lady Clara, they are the perfect match. A true love story!” “And that substitute… so intimate with her… could she have been cuckolding the lord before they were even wed? No wonder he refuses to marry her!” The tide of public opinion turned, drowning me in a sea of accusation. But I could no longer hear them. The hour was growing late. The King had decreed this marriage. I had to see it through. “You know full well what you have done,” I said, my teeth clenched. “But I will marry into House Thorne today.” “What I know is that the lady of House Ashton has no shame! You used my absence to parade a fraud before the court, ignored my command to cancel this farce, and now you have the gall to force your way into my family! If it weren’t for you, would Clara have ever fled to the south in sorrow? Come. We will go to my parents at once, and you will tell them you will not be wedding a Thorne today. The matter will be discussed at a later date.” He reached for my arm, but I recoiled. Through the shimmering veil, I saw that the embroidered handkerchief I had spent a dozen nights crafting was gone from his belt. In its place was a simple, woven lover’s knot. And on Clara’s wrist was a matching one. 4 “I will marry into House Thorne today. But I am not marrying you!” The square fell silent. Even Damian seemed to hold his breath. Clara’s sweet, cloying voice broke the stillness. “Lady Seraphina, you must be jesting. Lord Damian is the only son of the Duke. If not him, who would you marry?” The words seemed to jolt Damian back to his senses. “Do you intend to marry my father?” he roared, his face contorted with rage. “You shameless harlot! I know your father indulges you, but I never knew you were so utterly without morals! To say such a treasonous thing merely to spite me! When you see my parents, you will kneel and beg their forgiveness. Otherwise, you will never be a lady of my house!” His words were like shards of ice in my heart. The flicker of affection I thought I had seen in him was nothing more than a phantom, a reflection in a pond. And still, fool that I was, I had clung to that illusion. I ignored him, turning to enter the cathedral. The bells would soon toll the final hour. But a sudden vertigo washed over me. I was yanked backward, my body thrown to the ground, my head cracking against the stone steps. Blood blurred my vision. Damian’s eyes hardened, as if coming to a final, irrevocable decision. “Disobedient to her husband, disrespectful to his family. You are not fit to be my Duchess.” “You may enter my house today, but you will do so as my mistress!” With a savage cry, he reached for my wedding gown. “I will inform the King! A woman like you is unworthy of being a Thorne. The one who deserves to be the lady of this house is Clara! She is generous, but I will not see her slighted. Take off that gown! Today, I will wed Clara. After our wedding night, I will send a simple carriage to bring you to the manor through the servants’ gate!” I struggled, but the blow to my head had stolen my strength. I could only shield myself feebly as he ripped at the delicate fabric. My veil lay in the dust. I saw them clearly now. The man I adored, tearing the wedding gown from my body for another woman. And that other woman, a triumphant smirk on her face, mouthing silent words at me: “He. Is. Mine.” Elspeth screamed, “Let my lady go!” but she was gagged and forced to the ground. The beautiful jewels in my hair were now a heavy burden, coming loose as I fought, the sharp pins grazing my skin, a pain that was nothing compared to the agony in my soul. “Damian, stop this!” I warned, my voice hoarse. “House Ashton will not forgive this insult.” But he was without mercy. “For raising a daughter like you, I should be the one demanding answers from House Ashton! A shameless creature like you does not deserve this gown! Do not delay my wedding to Clara!” My strength gave out. I could only watch as he tore the silver-threaded silk from my body and draped it tenderly over Clara’s shoulders, whispering to her. “Clara, my love. Marry me today like this. In time, I will give you the grandest wedding this city has ever seen. What say you?” Clara blushed, burying her face in his shoulder. They looked like a pair of lovers from a ballad. I closed my eyes, a single tear tracing a path through the blood and grime on my cheek. My mother had commissioned the city’s finest seamstress to create this gown. I had spent countless nights tracing the embroidery, dreaming of the day I would wear it. I never dreamed this would be its end. “Seraphina! Are you going to lie at my door all day? Men! Drag her to the back gate! Do not bring bad fortune upon my wedding day!” Two household guards moved to drag me away. I feebly tried to push them off. “I thought highborn ladies were paragons of virtue! Turns out she’s as desperate as any common trollop! Can’t win the lord’s heart, so she hires an imposter!” “Hah! Seems these noble ladies are no different from the whores in the brothels!” The unvarnished cruelty of the crowd threatened to swallow me whole. They began to throw rotten fruit and vegetables, their fury unsated. I couldn’t dodge in time, only managing to shield my face with my arms. Was this it? Was I to die here, shamed and alone? “Insolence! What do you think you are doing?” A voice, sharp and anxious, cut through the din. I forced my eyes open. In the distance, a figure in crimson wedding finery was sprinting toward me.

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My brother Alex worships me. When we were ten, kidnappers took me instead of him. They scarred my face and broke my legs before letting me go. Alex rebuilt our father’s crumbling empire into a weapon. To him, I became sacred—insult me, and you died. A man called me a freak. Alex fed him to starving rats. Another mocked my limp. He crushed him under a steamroller. To Port Sterling, Alex was the Boogeyman. To me, he was just my brother—the man who sent me abroad for surgeries, therapy, and an education far from our bloody legacy. Before I returned home, he sent an engagement announcement: “Soon you’ll have a sister to spoil you too.” But when I arrived at the villa he bought me, his fiancée Veronica stormed in, convinced I was his mistress. Alex found me broken on the floor as she sobbed: “Am I nothing compared to this whore?” His eyes burned. “How many lives do you have to compare to hers?” … CRASH! The floor-to-ceiling window of the villa imploded, spraying glass across the marble floor. A pack of wolves in human skin barged in, their faces twisted with aggression. At their head was a woman whose face I recognized instantly from the photo Alex had sent me just days ago. My future sister-in-law, Veronica. Before I could even form a greeting, her face contorted with fury. She hefted a crowbar and swung it, the metal crashing against my face. A sickening crunch echoed in my skull, followed by a gush of warmth over my lips. I touched my face. Blood. The unexpected blow sent the world spinning. “There you are, you little bitch,” she spat, her voice dripping with venom. “Finally crawled out of your hole. I was starting to think you’d hide overseas forever!” While I was still reeling, she swung again, the crowbar slamming into my head and ribs. Pain exploded through me. I stumbled back, trying to shield my head, and tripped, collapsing onto the floor. “You don’t understand, I’m—” My words were cut short as Veronica jammed the end of the crowbar into my mouth, ramming it forward twice with vicious force. A sharp, metallic agony tore through my cheeks, and the coppery tang of blood flooded my throat. I choked, spitting out a mouthful of red. “I understand perfectly!” she shrieked, her eyes wild. “Don’t think I don’t know you wheedled Alex into buying you this place! You knew we were getting engaged, and you came crawling back to wreck it. Or, at the very least, stick around as his prized little slut, right?” “Today, you’re going to learn what happens when you cross me!” She kicked me, sending me sprawling. The back of my head struck the sharp corner of the coffee table, and a fresh wave of pain erupted as the skin split open. Panic and rage warred within me. I swallowed the blood pooling in my mouth and forced out the words. “You’re wrong! I’m Alex Sterling’s sister! His actual sister! He sent me a message a few days ago, telling me to come back for the engagement party…” Veronica froze for a second. One of the brutes behind her leaned in and muttered, “Boss, I have heard that Mr. Sterling has a sister who’s been abroad for years. We’ve never seen her, but the rumor is they’re twins.” Veronica’s eyes swept over my face with contempt. “Twins? This little whore looks nothing like Alex.” Just then, another figure entered the villa. It was Rose, one of my brother’s most trusted lieutenants. A veteran of the Sterling Crew. She would recognize me! “Rose! It’s me, Chloe!” I cried out, my voice thick and mangled. Rose paused, her gaze finding me on the floor. “Who’s this? How does she know my name?” she asked, confused. But Veronica didn’t give her time to think. She swung the crowbar again, a brutal, silencing blow across my mouth. The pain was so intense I couldn’t make another sound. “She’s the little bitch I told you about,” Veronica said smoothly. “Must have overheard one of the boys talking to you.” Rose shook her head slowly. “No… she said her name was Chloe. That’s the name of the boss’s sister. No one outside the inner circle would know that.” She strode toward me and gripped my chin, her eyes scrutinizing my features. “This face… it’s not her.” My heart sank. She hadn’t seen me since the surgeries. “Wait,” Rose said, her eyes widening slightly. “The young miss was sent away for reconstructive surgery. Has your face… been worked on?” I nodded frantically, a desperate hope surging through me. Yes, it’s me! I’m Chloe Sterling! Veronica scoffed from the side. “She’s a gold digger who lives by her looks. Of course she’s had work done. It’s practically a job requirement.” Rose held up a hand to silence her. “A face can be faked. An identity can’t. Search her.” Two of the goons grabbed me. I thrashed wildly, but Veronica slapped me hard across the face. “Hold still.” They bound my wrists, and the rough hands of the goons pawed at me, a profound violation. All my life, Alex had ensured no one laid a finger on me. If he knew about this, their hands would already be feeding the dogs. Rose watched, a flicker of caution in her eyes. “What if you’re wrong? If she really is his sister, we’re all dead.” Veronica just smiled, lighting a cigarette she offered to Rose. “Relax. I’m about to marry Alex. Even if I roughed up his sister in a fit of jealous passion, he’d see it as proof of how much I care. He’ll forgive me.” Rose took a drag from the cigarette and nodded. “True.” Soon, they found my wallet. Veronica snatched it and burst out laughing. “See? I told you the little bitch was lying.” Rose leaned in, reading my ID aloud. “Tina Chen.” She then flipped open my university diploma. “Enrolled as Tina.” “It’s a fake,” Rose declared, her voice turning to ice. “The boss’s sister is named Chloe Sterling. And he sent her to South Korea for her recovery, not England.” A cold dread washed over me. After the kidnapping, to protect me, Alex had moved me off the family records and given me our mother’s surname. He never wanted me to be a target again. He hadn’t told a soul. He had even faked my destination. Oh, Alex, I thought in despair. Your protection is going to get me killed. Rose’s expression hardened. “This bitch dared to impersonate the boss’s sister. Teach her a lesson.” They threw me to the ground and began to kick and punch me. In the chaos, my phone skittered out of my pocket, its screen lighting up. The lock screen was a photo of Alex and me, smiling together. Rose’s face went pale. “Wait!” She picked up the phone, her hand trembling. “Is this yours?” I nodded desperately. Veronica sneered, “It’s just a picture, Rose. She probably photoshopped it.” I grunted, trying to gesture for Rose to unlock the phone. She understood, holding it up to my face. It unlocked with facial recognition, and she swiped into my messages, finding my chat history with Alex. “She really has him saved as ‘Brother’!” Rose exclaimed. Veronica grabbed the phone. “Every gold-digging tramp calls her sugar daddy ‘daddy’ or ‘brother’! Don’t fall for it!” She scrolled up, and her face darkened with rage. “What the hell? Not only did he buy you a villa, he calls you ‘sweetheart’ and says he never wants to be apart from you again?” She looked at me, her eyes burning with a new level of hatred. “He’s really setting you up as his permanent little plaything!” I wanted to explain—that he was my only family, that he just wanted me home—but the pain in my mouth was a gag, silencing me. No one had ever dared to touch me, and now his own fiancée had beaten me half to death while his own people stood by, unable to even recognize me. Alex, it hurts so much. The thought brought a fresh wave of silent tears. Rose watched me, a frown creasing her brow. “You know, her temperament is a lot like the young miss. Can’t stand the slightest grievance, cries at the drop of a hat.” She hesitated. “Maybe we should double-check. The boss is fiercely protective of his sister. If she’s the real deal, he’ll have our heads.” Veronica nodded, considering it. “Fine. I’ll call him.” Her face twisted into a menacing mask. “If she’s really Alex’s sister, I’ll take full responsibility. But if she’s not…” Her voice dropped to a terrifying whisper. “I’ll make this little bitch regret the day she was born.” She had one of the men gag me properly, then dialed Alex’s number. “Hey, honey,” she cooed into the phone. “You mentioned your sister was coming back for our engagement party. Do you know exactly when she’s getting in? I want to get her a welcome gift, so I was just wondering.” Alex’s voice, warm and familiar, came through the speaker. “That’s thoughtful of you. She said she’ll be here tomorrow night.” My blood ran cold. It’s over. I had changed my flight to today to surprise him. Veronica’s eyes locked on mine, gleaming with vicious triumph. If she hung up now, I was dead. I bit down. Hard. The man holding the gag over my mouth yelped in pain and his hand flew back. “Alex, help me!” I screamed, pouring every last ounce of my strength into the cry. Veronica’s face turned white with rage. She lunged forward, kicking me down and grinding her high heel into my mouth. On the phone, Alex sounded hesitant. “Did I just hear someone yell for help?” Veronica forced a laugh. “It’s just the TV. Anyway, if your sister’s almost here, I’d better go shopping. I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up. The last of my hope died with the click. The pressure of her heel intensified, grinding into the wounds in my mouth. “You lying, scheming whore,” she hissed. “You almost had me.” Tears of pain and despair streamed down my face, which only seemed to fuel her rage. Her eyes, full of a venomous jealousy, raked over me. “It’s this face, isn’t it?” she whispered. “This is how you bewitched him. He was ready to marry me, and he still bought you a mansion.” One of the goons behind her spoke up cautiously. “It’s not that surprising. A guy like the boss… they all have a girl on the side. Since he seems to like her, maybe we should just let her go? You’re the one he’s marrying. You’re the real First Lady. Maybe just turn a blind eye?” Rose chimed in. “He’s right. You’re the one with the ring. She’ll never be more than a fling.” For a moment, Veronica seemed to consider it, a flicker of logic piercing her rage. My heart filled with a bitter, searing injustice. I was his sister, beaten and broken for being mistaken for a mistress. Alex had terrible taste in women. The first thing I would do when I saw him was demand he call off this sham of an engagement. My resentful glare must have been obvious because Veronica’s wavering resolve hardened into fury. “You dare to look at me like that? You little bitch!” she snarled. “Even if I don’t kill you today, I’m going to ruin you!” She pulled her foot back, and from her jacket, she produced a knife. Its blade glinted as she brought it toward my face. “No!” I shrieked, the sound muffled and wet. But my terror only spurred her on. “When you’re an ugly monster,” she seethed, her voice a low, terrifying growl, “Alex will finally see that I’m the only one he should love!” White-hot agony lanced across my skin as she began to draw the blade across my cheek, again and again. The pain was blinding, nearly sending me into unconsciousness. This face… Alex had spent a fortune and three years of painstaking work with the world’s best surgeons to give it back to me. And she was destroying it. He would never, ever forgive her for this. “You’re… dead…” I managed to choke out through gritted teeth. My defiance shattered her last shred of sanity. “You fucking dare to threaten me?” she screamed, and brought the knife down to my mouth. “Let’s see you talk now!” A searing, numbing pain ripped across my lips. I couldn’t form another word. She raised the knife again, but froze as footsteps echoed from outside. “Boss? What are you doing here?” It was Alex. Alex was here! I tried to push myself up, but a fresh wave of agony shot through my leg as Veronica slammed the crowbar into the back of my knee, and I collapsed. Rose’s face went white. “Hide her! If the boss sees this, he’ll lose it. Quick!” Veronica and two of the goons dragged me into the adjacent kitchen, sliding the frosted glass door shut just as Alex stepped into the main room. “Rose, I thought I told you to get this place ready. Where are the furnishings?” Alex’s voice was crisp, businesslike. “We just got here, boss. Everything’s still in the truck. I’ll have the boys bring it in now.” Rose herded the remaining goons out of the villa, leaving Alex alone to inspect his work. “Hmm, the renovations turned out well,” he mused to himself. “She’s going to love it.” He turned. “Is this the kitchen?” He was walking toward the door. Through the frosted glass, I could see his silhouette, a dark, powerful shape. Tears streamed from my eyes. Alex, please, get in here. Save me. The door slid open. His eyes fell first on Veronica, hiding in the corner, then on me, a bloody, bound heap on the floor. His face changed instantly. “Veronica? What are you doing here?” Then, his gaze fixed on me, his brow furrowed in disgust and confusion. “Who is she? Why is she covered in blood?” Alex, it’s me! Look at me! I was bound, unable to move, but I began to squirm on the floor, trying to drag myself toward him. Veronica kicked me in the face. “Stay down, you bitch!” The blow sent stars dancing in my vision, but I forced out a desperate, broken sound. “A… lex…” Enraged, she kicked my mouth again. “How dare you call him that in front of me!” But he had heard me. Alex’s entire body went rigid. He crouched down, his eyes scanning my mangled face, trying to see past the blood and swelling. Before he could recognize me, Veronica spoke, her voice suddenly trembling and fragile. “Darling, you don’t have to say it. I know who she is. She’s the canary you’ve been keeping overseas, isn’t she?” She gestured around the room. “And this villa… it’s for her. I shouldn’t have been upset. A man as successful as you… it’s only natural you’d have a secret little nest.” Her eyes welled with tears, her voice cracking with practiced sorrow. “I just wanted to see her. To understand what makes her so special, what makes you love her so much. I thought… I thought maybe I could learn from her. Be more like her. Then maybe you would love me a little more, too…” Her choked sobs seemed to move him. He stood and pulled her into his arms. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said softly. “I told you, you’re the only one for me. Why else would I be marrying you?” He sighed. “This house is for my sister. Chloe. She’s coming home tomorrow, remember? I wanted it to be a surprise, so I didn’t tell anyone. You misunderstood.” He held Veronica at arm’s length. “But you still haven’t told me who this is. I don’t keep canaries, Veronica.” A look of dawning horror crossed Veronica’s face as the pieces clicked into place. She was white as a sheet. “She… she’s just some bitch who crossed me. Rose and I were… teaching her a lesson.” Alex frowned. “She crossed you? Then she deserves a lesson. But why would you bring her into my sister’s house? That’s bad luck. This place is tainted with blood before she’s even spent a night in it. It’s a bad omen.” His stern tone made Veronica tremble. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll have my men drag her out and… clean up. And I’ll personally apologize to Chloe tomorrow. She won’t hold it against me, right, darling?” Alex’s expression softened into a fond smile. “Chloe has a good heart. She won’t blame you.” Two of the goons moved to lift me. My mind screamed in panic. Veronica’s idea of “cleaning up” was to silence me permanently. She couldn’t be sure if I was Chloe or not, but she couldn’t afford to take the chance. I thrashed violently, trying to break free, and earned another slap for my efforts. “Take this bitch out and finish it!” Veronica snapped. Just then, Rose re-entered the kitchen, holding something. Seeing the tense atmosphere, she immediately tried to curry favor with Alex. “Boss, don’t be angry. We didn’t want to get blood on the floor, but this little bitch wouldn’t back down. She kept insisting she was your sister…”

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I was eight months pregnant when a stranger shoved me from a second-floor landing. I hit the ground in a spreading pool of my own blood. Frantic, my husband, Adrian, scooped me into his arms and raced to the hospital, summoning a team of top specialists to save me. Miraculously, they said, the baby was saved. But when I opened my eyes, both Adrian and my child were gone. I fought through the pain, dragging myself out of bed. I searched the halls, my leg, wrapped in a cast, screaming with every limping step. That’s when I heard them, their voices drifting from the cold, sterile doorway of the morgue. Adrian and the doctor. “Mr. Stone, the baby… he was still breathing. Why did you… smother him? He was your son!” “He was a mistake. He never should have been born. It’s better this way.” Adrian’s voice was ice. “Scarlett gave me a son yesterday. I promised her our child would be the sole heir to the Stone fortune. I won’t have another child competing with him.” So it was all a lie. The happy family, the perfect marriage—it was nothing but a delusion I’d built for myself. My life wasn’t a fairy tale; it was a cold, dark hell. Fine. If that’s how it was, I would leave. … The doctor’s voice was hesitant. “But you’re planning to pass Scarlett’s baby off as your own. What if your wife finds out?” “Newborns all look the same. She’ll never know. I’ll bring him to her in a moment. Get rid of the… body. And I need a dose of that new drug you mentioned, the one that causes permanent sterilization. I want you to give it to Elara.” The doctor was aghast. “Mr. Stone, you’ve already killed her child just to bring Scarlett’s into your home. Why must you do this to her, too? It’s too cruel!” A chill crept from the morgue, but Adrian’s words were colder still. “I made a promise to Scarlett. I promised our son would never suffer a moment of hardship, that he would never have to compete with siblings for my affection. Even though she’s married to another man, I will give her that peace of mind.” The doctor sounded desperate. “Sir, I have to warn you, that drug is experimental. It hasn’t even completed clinical trials. The side effects are severe. Can you truly do this to her?” Adrian paused, then sighed. “I have no choice. Elara will be waking soon. A hysterectomy now would raise too many questions. She’ll just have to endure it. I’ll make it up to her later, but I cannot risk her ever getting pregnant again.” Just then, his phone rang. He put it on speaker, and a man’s giddy voice filled the morgue. “Mr. Stone, the five million came through. Don’t you worry, I’m leaving the city now. Your wife will never know it was you who paid me to push her down those stairs. Heh heh.” Footsteps approached from within the morgue. I ignored the fire in my leg and stumbled back to my room. The image of my baby’s tiny, lifeless body in that cold room burned behind my eyes. I clutched my chest, tears splashing onto the pristine white bandages on my leg. It wasn’t an accident. My fall at the mall was an orchestrated event. My loving husband, clearing the way for his true love and their child. My baby hadn’t been saved. He’d been murdered. By his own father. To Adrian, my son and I were nothing but obstacles. “Ellie, you’re awake?” Adrian walked in, cradling a newborn. He smiled, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Look at our son. Doesn’t he look just like us?” He beamed. “Thank you, my love, for giving me such a beautiful boy. I swear I’ll be the best father in the world.” My gaze fell on the sleeping infant in his arms, and a fresh wave of pain ripped through me. He was wrong. No mother could fail to recognize her own child. The baby’s brow was all Adrian, but his nose, his chin… they were copied directly from Scarlett’s face. This was their son. My son was a cold corpse in the morgue. “Ellie, does your leg still hurt? Here, take some painkillers.” His voice was filled with the same gentle concern as always, a carefully constructed illusion meant to keep me docile. I looked at the pills in his hand, his words from the hallway echoing in my ears. “Adrian,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “The pills are too bitter. Can I take them later?” You’ve already murdered my child. Please, at least leave me the ability to be a mother again. He hesitated for only a second before stroking my hair. “You’re a mother now, acting like a little kid,” he cooed. “You went through so much during childbirth, and your leg is in such pain. I’ve been sick with worry, I haven’t slept a wink. Please, Ellie, do it for me? I have to be a good dad for our little boy.” He held up a glass. “I put honey in the water. It’s sweet. Come on, let me help you.” No. That’s not my baby. That’s yours and Scarlett’s. He held the pills to my lips, leaving no room for refusal. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I closed my eyes and swallowed them dry, ignoring the honeyed water. I wanted no part of his cloying, deceitful sweetness. The drug acted fast. A fire ignited in my womb, a searing agony as if a blade was carving me open from the inside. Blood began to seep from between my legs. “Elara! What’s wrong?” Adrian shouted for the doctor as I screamed, the pain pulling me into darkness. Through a hazy fog of consciousness, I heard the doctor’s grim report. “Mr. Stone, the drug has caused massive, irreversible damage to her uterus. It’s… destroyed. She’ll never be able to carry a child again.” Adrian let out a long, heavy sigh of relief. When I opened my eyes again, his were red-rimmed, his face a mask of anguish. “Ellie,” he whispered, his voice thick with fake sympathy. “The doctor said you had a sudden postpartum hemorrhage. You… you won’t be able to have any more children.” He squeezed my hand. “Don’t be sad. We’re lucky we have Leo. He’ll grow up to take good care of you, I promise.” Leo? He’d already named Scarlett’s child? He dismissed the nurse, insisting on cleaning me up himself, despite his well-known fastidiousness. As he gently wiped away the blood, he told me his mother had been so excited to see her grandson that she’d already taken the baby home. By the time he was finished, it was late. I looked at his weary face and managed a weak smile. “I’m okay. You’ve had a long day. You should get some rest.” He kissed my forehead. “Alright. Wake me if you need anything. Tomorrow, we’ll go pick up Leo. The three of us will finally be a proper family.” Once he was sound asleep, I quietly picked up his phone. To prove his “loyalty,” he’d never set a passcode. What I never knew was that he had a dual-system interface. The password to switch systems was Scarlett’s birthday. The wallpaper flickered, changing to a photo of him and Scarlett from their university days. His chat list contained only one contact: Scarlett. I opened it, and a photo of her holding a baby stabbed me in the heart. “Adrian, look how beautiful our son is. He’s going to be as handsome as you when he grows up.” It was the same baby he had brought to my room. The further I scrolled, the colder my heart became. During my eight months of pregnancy, Adrian was constantly on “business trips.” I could count the number of days he’d spent with me on two hands. I hadn’t wanted to be a burden, so I’d endured the morning sickness and the lonely trips to the hospital by myself. Now I knew. The business trips were just an excuse to be with Scarlett, to care for her during her pregnancy. There were thousands of photos documenting every moment, from her first ultrasound to the delivery. Adrian cooking her special meals, taking her for walks, shopping for baby clothes. He’d even cupped his hands to catch her vomit when she was sick. He was by her side for every single check-up, his eyes gazing at her as if she were a priceless treasure. I had begged him, so many times, to help me choose a name for our baby. His replies were always terse and delayed. “Elara, a name is just a label. We can pick anything. I’m busy. We’ll talk about it after he’s born.” But for Scarlett’s baby, he had compiled a list of over a hundred names before she was even showing. “Scarlett, what about August? A future full of promise.” “Or Spencer? Scholarly and successful.” “No, let’s call him Leo. I don’t need him to be a genius. I just want him to be safe and sound, and to live a long, happy life.” After every one of her check-ups, he’d showered her with gifts—luxury jewelry, limited-edition sports cars. He’d even bought her a European castle to celebrate a smooth delivery. All I ever got was a text: “You did great, Elara. I have to go to a meeting.” The difference between being loved and not being loved was so stark, so brutal. My heart a hollow cavern, I put down the phone and booked a one-way ticket out of the country, for three days’ time. I lay back in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, my soul consumed by a grief so vast it left no room for sleep. The next day, Adrian had his assistant deliver a gourmet meal, just as he always did. I used to be so touched by his thoughtfulness, that even when he was away, he was thinking of me. But now, picturing him in an apron, bustling around a kitchen for Scarlett, I saw it for what it was: a perfunctory, meaningless gesture. Money is worthless in the face of true devotion. Seeing that I hadn’t touched the food, Adrian’s brow furrowed with concern. “Ellie, why aren’t you eating? Do you not like it?” “It’s nothing. I just miss the baby.” Adrian smiled. “Ah, you miss our little Leo. I miss him too. I never understood it before, but now that I’m a father, I don’t want to be apart from him for a second. He’s the most adorable baby in the world.” He continued, “Mom is over the moon. She’s throwing a little celebration at the manor. We’ll go pick him up in a bit.” I said nothing. I was leaving anyway. Let him have his fantasy. When we arrived at the Stone family manor, we were greeted by the sight of his mother and Scarlett cooing over Leo. Scarlett was dressed in a stunning designer outfit, looking radiant, with none of the fatigue of a new mother. My mother-in-law was spoon-feeding her bird’s nest soup while fussing over the baby. Scarlett saw me and spoke, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “Oh, you shouldn’t spoil me like this, Mother Stone. People might think I’m your daughter-in-law. Elara might get jealous. She’s so frail. You should give the soup to her.” My mother-in-law’s gaze shifted to me. She took in my clothes—the same ones from the day of the fall, still stained with dried blood—and her face twisted in disgust. “Does my son not provide for you? Why are you dressed in such a cursed outfit? Are you trying to disgrace our family? Look at Scarlett. You’re both new mothers, but she’s a hundred times better than you. You’re so pathetic.” “You’re the one who couldn’t sit still, running around while pregnant. It’s a shame the fall didn’t kill you. And now you have the nerve to stand there looking pitiful. Thank God my grandson is alright, or I’d have Adrian divorce you on the spot.” She sneered. “You took medication knowing you had to breastfeed. If Scarlett weren’t here to help, my grandson would have starved because of you, you wretched thing! I’m officially adopting Scarlett as my goddaughter. From now on, she’ll call me ‘Mom,’ just like Adrian.” I knew she’d never liked me. She thought I was beneath her son, especially compared to the beautiful, charming Scarlett, his childhood friend. She had only tolerated me for the sake of her grandchild. Every encounter was laced with her barbs. Before, Adrian would always defend me. He was the one who had insisted we go to the mall that day, to buy gifts for the baby. But now, his eyes were glued to Scarlett, filled with an unmistakable, tender affection. Scarlett, holding Leo, walked over to him and playfully linked her arm through his. “Did you hear that, Adrian? Your mother has made me her goddaughter. My dear big brother, have you prepared a gift for your new little sister?” Adrian pinched her cheek with a look of helpless adoration. “You’re such a tease. Don’t call me brother.” Despite his words, he had his assistant bring in 92 different fur coats from every major luxury brand, each complete with matching accessories. “I know you love to look beautiful, but you’re still recovering. You can’t catch a chill. There are 92 days of winter, one for every day.” Scarlett beamed and planted a kiss on his cheek, giddy as a schoolgirl. “Wow, some of these are from next year’s collection! And they’re all limited edition! How did you get them so early? Adrian, you’re the best to me.” She glanced at me coyly. “But won’t Elara be upset that you’re giving me so many gifts?” Compared to the racks of glorious, priceless furs, my blood-stained clothes made me feel like a pathetic clown. Adrian started, as if just remembering I was there. “Elara, it’s not what you think. Scarlett’s used to living abroad. You know how… open they are there.” He stammered, “And the coats… I heard she also just gave birth, and her husband is away. We grew up together, I just wanted to…” His words were cut off as Leo began to cry. Scarlett gasped. “Oh dear, is Leo hungry again? Mommy’s coming, sweetie.” She turned to me with a look of mock apology. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Elara. I’m just so used to calling myself that with my own baby. Besides, Leo always seems to love it when I say it.” She started for the stairs, then swayed, collapsing against Adrian. “Adrian, I feel a little dizzy…” Without a second thought, Adrian shoved me aside and caught her, his face etched with panic. “What’s wrong? You must be weak from the delivery. I told you to rest! Come on, I’ll carry you upstairs.” My right leg, still in its cast, buckled under the force of his push. I crashed to the floor, a bolt of searing pain shooting up my leg. But Adrian didn’t even glance at me. In front of everyone, he swept Scarlett into his arms, baby and all, and carried her up the stairs. The roomful of guests stared at me with open contempt. “No wonder he spoils Scarlett. She’s not just beautiful, she’s kind enough to breastfeed another woman’s child. Not like this useless thing. She’s pathetic, can’t even handle a little pain in her leg. And taking pills while she’s supposed to be nursing? So selfish.” “She calls herself a mother? Scarlett acts more like Leo’s mother than she does. She clearly loves him more. And Leo even looks a bit like Scarlett. The baby must be ashamed of Elara too. What a shame Scarlett and Adrian never got married.” My mother-in-law, far from defending me, shot me a look of pure hatred. “What are you doing, lying there on the floor like a dog? If you’re begging, go do it on the street. We don’t feed useless, lowly women in this house.” “You don’t care about your son, and you can’t even keep your husband’s heart. I hear you can’t have any more children? My son must have had a lifetime of bad luck to end up with a wife like you. Get out of my sight. Just looking at you shaves years off my life.” Humiliation washed over me. I thought of the divorce papers I had already prepared, tucked away in my phone. I said nothing. I struggled to my feet and limped upstairs to the study. I printed the divorce agreement and tucked it into my bag, then went to find Adrian in the guest room. But they weren’t there. Only a nanny, rocking a well-fed, sleeping Leo. Confused, I heard a sound from down the hall. An unmistakable sound, coming from the bedroom I shared with Adrian. The door was ajar. Through the crack, I could see Scarlett, her blouse wide open, straddling Adrian’s lap. Her voice was a sultry purr. “Adrian, honey, I have too much milk. Leo’s appetite is so small, and I’m so full… it hurts.” “I’m so uncomfortable… Won’t you help me? Please?” Adrian hesitated. “Scarlett, don’t. You just gave birth two days ago. Your body can’t take it. You already risked so much having my child behind your husband’s back. I can’t hurt you again…” She pressed his head to her chest. “Silly Adrian. I’m not afraid, why should you be? Having your baby was my choice. My husband is never around, he’ll never know. Come on, be good to me. Don’t you want a taste?” He could no longer resist. He leaned in, his mouth covering hers, then moving lower. The sounds from the room grew more explicit. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I couldn’t watch anymore. I fled the house, stumbling down the stairs and out into the cold night air. The suffocating feeling finally eased as I gasped the fresh air, but the tears wouldn’t stop falling. Adrian, you knew I was downstairs. How could you do such a thing? In our bedroom?! I sat numbly by the door. I don’t know how long I was there before a foul-smelling liquid was poured over my head. Scarlett appeared before me, a triumphant, ugly smile on her face. “How does it taste, Elara? My son’s piss? And did you enjoy the show? The sight of Adrian lost in ecstasy over me?” So she had wanted me to see. “Tsk, tsk. Look at you now. Your son is dead, your leg is crippled… If I were you, I would have killed myself already. What’s the point of living?” “So what if you married him? So what if you had his child? For me, for my child, he smothered your son and made sure you could never have another.” “I even have a video of your son’s last moments,” she cooed, her voice poisonously sweet. “Want to see his little face go from red to purple? It’s quite the show.” I stared at her phone, at the screen where my baby was slowly, silently suffocating to death. My entire body shook with a rage that was cold and absolute. How could she speak of murdering a child so casually, so cruelly? I raised my hand to strike her. But she was faster. She produced a dagger and drew it across her own chest. Blood blossomed on her blouse. The dagger clattered to the ground as she let out a piercing scream. A split second later, I was shoved violently to the ground. Adrian was there, cradling a screaming Scarlett in his arms. He turned to me, his face a thundercloud of fury. “Elara, are you insane?!” Before I could explain, Scarlett burst into tears. “Adrian, I was just worried she’d be upset about me nursing Leo. I wanted to explain, but… but she said I was trying to steal her baby! She said she was going to cut off my breasts so I could never feed him again! I was just trying to help, I couldn’t bear to see him go hungry! How could she do this to me?” Adrian’s gaze fell on me, dark and menacing. “You’re the one who fell down the stairs and broke your own leg. Why are you taking it out on Scarlett? You took medication, you can’t nurse the baby. She was helping you, out of the kindness of her heart, and you attack her? You may not care about your child, but you won’t let anyone else care for him either?!” I’m not a good mother? I don’t care about my child? Tears of pure rage streamed down my face. “I’m not a good mother? And you? Why don’t you tell me why I fell down those stairs? Why don’t you tell me where my real son is? And what was in that medicine you forced me to take?!” Adrian frowned. “Leo is sleeping soundly in his room. And the medicine was for your leg pain. You know all this.” He sneered. “You fell because you were clumsy. There was a crowd of people there. Why were you the only one who got pushed? Don’t blame your own incompetence on Scarlett. You’re a mother yourself. How could you bear to harm another mother? Apologize to her. Now.” Yes. A crowd of people. Why was I the only one who fell? Looking at his self-righteous face, a laugh, hollow and broken, escaped my lips. This was my husband. A liar. A murderer.

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1 My brother Leo and I went to his fiancée’s house to pick her up for the wedding, but she refused to come downstairs, deciding to play games instead. “Camille,” she said, her voice dripping with challenge, “I won’t feel safe marrying into your family until you pass my obedience test.” I glanced at my lovestruck brother, Leo, whose eyes were pleading with me. I had no choice but to nod. First, the bride-to-be, Jessica, demanded I transfer $1,000 to each of her bridesmaids and all the gathered relatives as a “token of goodwill.” For my brother’s happiness, I gritted my teeth and sent the money. Second, she ordered me to kneel on the floor, wash her feet, and put on her wedding shoes. Seeing Leo on the verge of tears, I swallowed my pride and did it. “And for the third thing,” Jessica announced with a smirk, “we’ll have an exchange. I want you to marry my brother!” I refused on the spot. But Jessica was smugly confident. “Don’t follow the rules, and you can get the hell out of the Vaughn family. You’re just the adopted one. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” My own brother chimed in, twisting the knife. “She’s right, Camille. Mom and Dad adopted you. It’s about time you paid them back by helping me.” I almost laughed from the sheer audacity of it. The truth was, Mom and Dad had adopted him because they thought I was too lonely as a child! … The eyes of everyone in the room darted toward me. “I had no idea the Vaughns’ daughter was adopted. And here I was, so jealous of her, thinking she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.” “Her adoptive parents must be saints. Look at her, decked out in designer brands from head to toe.” Jessica’s eyes glinted with envy, her words laced with acid. “What can I say? My future in-laws are just so generous, even to an adopted stray. They’re only putting my name on one of their properties, while she has several in her name already.” She shot me a look of pure contempt. “Some people have no shame, happily taking things that aren’t rightfully theirs.” I took a series of deep breaths, forcing down the fire in my chest. Today was Leo’s wedding day. I couldn’t be the one to ruin it. I told myself I’d try one last time. Forcing a smile, I said, “Jessica, please come downstairs. We’ll be late.” She slapped my hand away and spun to face Leo, her voice a shrill whine. “Leo, what is your sister trying to say? Is she looking down on my brother, or is she looking down on me? Didn’t you tell me you’re the one who calls the shots in your family? How can she refuse something so simple for our wedding?” Sparks flew from my eyes. Something so simple? And her brother? Did she have any self-awareness at all? The man was a total creep who looked to be in his forties, complete with a beer belly, a balding head, and a smile that revealed a mouthful of yellow teeth. Jessica wouldn’t let it go. “My parents worked so hard to put me through college, and now I’m supposed to slave away for your family for the rest of my life,” she sobbed. “Is it really too much to ask for you to give them a daughter in return?” She started crying hysterically. “It’s our wedding day, and your sister is already disrespecting me! I can’t imagine how she’ll treat me once I’m actually married into your family! Leo, if your sister doesn’t marry my brother, then this wedding is off!” The threat of cancellation sent my love-drunk brother into a panic. He rushed over to her, half-kneeling. “My darling, please don’t do this to me. I chased you for so long to win your heart. If we don’t get married today, I don’t think I can go on living!” Jessica shoved him away, and he stumbled to the ground. “Your sister refuses to complete my obedience test! I know she’ll make my life hell!” she shrieked. “I’m my parents’ precious treasure! Why should I have to put up with her abuse?” The inferno in my chest roared hotter. I dug my nails into my palms, trying to stay grounded. Leo clutched his back as he scrambled to his feet. He turned to me, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “Camille, what is your problem? What’s so wrong with you marrying Jessica’s brother?” “So what if he’s a little older? He’ll know how to take care of you! Are you looking down on their family’s financial situation? Mom and Dad gave you several houses, didn’t they? That’s more than enough for you to live on for the rest of your life!” “What?” he sneered. “Are you still dreaming of marrying some rich, handsome prince? Wake up, Camille! Your birth parents were nobodies from the countryside. What wealthy guy would ever seriously look at you?” He leaned in, his voice a low threat. “If you don’t agree to this, I’ll tell Mom and Dad you ruined my wedding. Believe me, they’ll kick you out on the street in a second.” In that moment, the last thread of my composure snapped. 2 I dropped the purse Jessica had made me hold and stormed toward the door. “I don’t care if this wedding happens or not. I’m going home!” But before I could leave, Jessica grabbed my arm in a vice-like grip. “You’re not going anywhere!” She unzipped the purse. “First, I’m going to check if you stole anything from me!” She opened the bag. Inside, there was nothing but a few empty red envelopes from the earlier cash gifts. Jessica shrieked, “Leo! The diamond necklace, the ring, the gold you gave me… it’s all gone!” Her expression twisted into one of vicious accusation as she pointed a finger at my face. “Well, well, Camille. I thought I could trust you, my future sister-in-law, to hold my bag for me. I never thought you’d have such sticky fingers!” I was completely stunned. She immediately started a live stream, shoving the camera right in my face. “Everyone, look! This is my future sister-in-law, the famous Miss Vaughn of the Vaughn Corporation. But guess what? She’s the adopted daughter. I guess she inherited some bad genes from her real parents!” “I asked her to hold my bag, and in just a few minutes, tens of thousands of dollars worth of my jewelry vanished! The bag never left her hands. I wonder who could have taken it? It’s such a mystery!” A flood of malicious comments poured in. “This is why you should be careful about adopting. Who knows what kind of trash their parents were?” “Look at her, dressed in all those designer brands. You’d never guess she was a common thief.” “What a snake in the grass. Her adoptive parents gave her everything, and she repays them by stealing from her brother’s fiancée and trying to ruin his wedding.” Jessica’s bridesmaids swarmed me, snatching my own purse. They dumped its contents onto the floor. When they found nothing, Jessica grabbed a handful of my hair and slapped me hard across the face. “Bitch, tell me where you hid it!” My cheek burned, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. But what chilled me to the bone was my brother’s reaction. He just stood there, watching with cold indifference. He even added, his voice light, “Come on, Camille. Just give Jessica her things back. Don’t ruin our wedding, okay?” I wiped a smear of blood from my lip. “Since you’re so sure I stole something,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, “then let’s call the police and have them figure it out.” Jessica snatched my phone and smashed it on the ground. The screen shattered. She crossed her arms, glaring at me. “This is a small town. What will the neighbors think if they see the police show up at my parents’ house?” “Since you’re so determined to deny it, we’ll just have to search you ourselves.” A wicked glint appeared in Jessica’s eyes. “Girls, strip her down. Who knows, maybe she hid it in her underwear.” Panic seized my heart. “Jessica, that’s illegal!” I shouted. “Leo, call the police!” But Leo just rubbed his ear and went back to scrolling on his phone. My eyes widened in horror as I stared at the boy I had loved and protected for over twenty years, blood or not. My heart turned to ice, piece by piece. “Leo!” I screamed. “I’m your sister!” When we were kids, I was always the one who stood in front of him, taking the blame for his mistakes. Leo just scoffed. “Give me a break. Your deadbeat parents were so poor they had to sell you to our family. You think you’re worthy of being my sister?” Jessica’s friends yanked up my t-shirt, exposing my skin to the leering eyes in the room. Whistles echoed around me. I struggled, but Jessica just slapped me again and again, until my ears were ringing. She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll sign over all your properties to Leo. Then I’ll let you go.” “Otherwise,” she smirked, “your parents will believe you’re a thief. You’ll lose everything and get thrown out with nothing.” So that was it. A thief crying wolf, all to steal my houses. Rage burned so fiercely it felt like it would tear through my chest. My voice trembled as I spoke. “Jessica, if you ever manage to marry into the Vaughn family, my name isn’t Camille Vaughn!” Jessica burst out laughing as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. “Have you forgotten your place? You’re the adopted one. Who do you think you are to make threats like that?!” Her eyes darkened. She waved a hand. “Girls, teach her a lesson. Don’t worry, she’s not their real daughter!” 3 A sharp fist slammed into my forehead. A warm trickle of blood ran from my nose. Kicks landed on my stomach, sending waves of agony through me until my vision blurred. Through the haze, I saw Jessica grab a vase from the coffee table and bring it crashing down on my head. A bolt of sharp pain, and then I felt my forehead. My hand came away wet with blood. My appearance must have been terrifying, because Jessica and her friends finally stopped. I staggered to my feet, my eyes locked on her. A flicker of fear crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with bravado. “It’s your own fault for being a thief!” she spat. “Fine. I’ll be generous since you’re Leo’s sister. Give me back my things right now and kneel and apologize, and I’ll let this go for today.” She waved a dismissive hand and sat back down on the bed. Leo, ever the sycophant, put down his phone and began massaging her wrist. “Camille, hurry up and give her back the jewelry! See how forgiving Jessica is being?” “I didn’t steal anything!” I roared. “How can I give back something I don’t have? This whole thing was a setup by Jessica!” Leo’s eyes darted away. My heart sank. That look on his face… he knew. He was in on it. But he still pressed on. “Then just pay her back! The jewelry was worth tens of thousands. Paying her a hundred thousand in compensation is more than fair!” “Do it now,” he threatened, “or I’m calling Mom and Dad and having them throw you out!” He was so brazen, constantly holding the threat of being disowned over my head. I closed my eyes. I remembered a conversation I’d had with my parents just a few weeks ago. “Camille,” my mom had said, her voice gentle, “we adopted Leo because we felt guilty that you were so lonely as an only child, especially since we were always so busy with work.” “You two got along well enough over the years, so we let it be. But now he’s demanding to take over the company and wants us to transfer all the properties we gave you into his name.” “The boy has gotten greedy. We were thinking, since we’re already paying for his wedding, maybe it’s time to tell him the truth and have him move out.” At the time, my heart had gone soft. I’d argued against it, thinking about how Leo had lived his whole life as the Vaughn family’s young master. The shock of the truth would be too much for him. My parents had reluctantly agreed, and we dropped the matter. But today, Leo’s actions had frozen my heart solid. I made a decision. The moment I got home, I would tell my parents to kick him out. Not ruining his wedding day would be my last act of kindness as his sister. I turned and walked toward the door. Leo’s shout echoed behind me. “Camille, you dare leave without paying?” Then came the gasps of the guests. “Oh my god, I can’t believe the Vaughn’s daughter is like that behind closed doors.” I spun around in shock. Leo was holding his phone up for everyone to see, a triumphant smirk on his face. On the screen was a video… My pupils constricted.

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I am a humble stone spirit from the court of the Lady of Petrifaction, iron-hearted, incapable of love or sorrow. Yet, I found myself tethered to the body of a woman drowning in sentiment. She was a pitiable soul, loved by no one. When she miscarried, her husband was out having fun with her adopted sister. And her own mother accused her of being ungrateful, constantly saying how much better it would have been if the adopted sister were her real daughter. Later, her husband came home, the adopted sister in tow, and said, “Serena is staying for a few days. You can give her your room.” A dull ache pulsed in my chest, and my eyes began to well with tears. I knew it was the lingering love this body still held for him. But it didn’t matter. In one week, the host’s emotions would fade completely, and I would be free to be myself again—the stone spirit with a heart of iron… 1 This time, I didn’t throw a fit like she always used to. I simply said, “Alright.” I gathered my things and started to walk out. Aaron watched me, his eyes narrowed. “What are you plotting now?” His gaze was filled with suspicion, as if I were the one who had committed some unforgivable crime. But from the very beginning, I had always been the one reacting to their cruelty. I replied meekly, “A few days ago, Mom told me I should act more like a proper older sister.” Aaron’s expression softened slightly. “It’s good that you’re finally willing to listen.” He smiled and patted my stomach. “Go on to the guest room for now. I’ll be there in a bit, and we can do some prenatal bonding with the baby.” His face held a rare gentleness, but the sight of it sent a blade twisting through my heart. Just a week ago, the body’s original owner, Elara, had slipped and fallen in the bathroom. With the last of her strength, she had called Aaron. All she received was his irritated voice on the other end. “Elara, can you stop calling me all the time? Not even the cops check up on me this much! It’s so annoying!” “Ah! Aaron, be gentle…” A soft, feminine moan drifted through the line, and just before he hung up, I heard him whisper a soft apology, his voice low and coaxing. Elara had lain there on the cold tiles, a pool of blood spreading around her. The plea for help never left her lips. I clutched my chest, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm—thump, thump, thump. The pain was staggering as I stumbled out of the room. A suffocating pressure tightened around my heart, as if it were being torn apart. I knew this feeling. It was grief. Behind me, Aaron was already eagerly helping Serena with her luggage, not sparing me a single glance. I slept in the cold, damp guest room. Aaron never came. This wasn’t the first time. The original owner had cried and raged over it, but it had never changed anything. And me, a stone spirit with a heart of iron? I certainly didn’t care. Even if I was still trapped with all her emotions. The next day, we went to visit my mother. Serena immediately claimed the passenger seat, a smug smile on her face. “You know I get carsick, sister.” She always did this. In the beginning, Elara would gently protest, but Aaron would always give her the silent treatment. After a while, she just stopped trying. Perhaps I was lost in thought for too long, because Aaron impatiently yanked open the back door and shoved me inside. “What’s with the attitude now? I’ll have Mom set you straight.” I fell hard onto the back seat. A sharp pain shot through my hand, and blood instantly welled up. I looked down. A lace bra was lying on the seat. The metal clasp on the back was what had sliced my palm open. 2 Seeing the bra in my hand, Aaron’s face flashed with guilt. But it was Serena who let out a little gasp, leaning over to snatch it away. “I was wondering where this went! It must have fallen out here.” Aaron sighed. “How many times have I told you not to be so careless?” Then he turned to me, offering a flimsy explanation. “Elara, don’t get the wrong idea. This must have fallen out of her luggage when I helped her move last time.” My bleeding hand was nothing compared to the agony in my heart, but I had no desire to argue. “Let’s just go,” I said. “Don’t keep Mom waiting.” The original Elara was a devoted and filial daughter. She had been sent to live with her grandmother as a child and cherished every reunion with her parents. After we parked, Serena grabbed Aaron’s arm and started pulling him upstairs. In the past, he would have followed without a second thought, but this time he hesitated, looking back at me. “Elara?” I snapped out of my daze and slowly followed. Serena’s expression instantly soured. … “You’re here! No need for such formalities, come in, sit down!” “Serena, you’re back too! How’s work? You haven’t come to see your mother in so long.” My mother beamed as she ushered Aaron and Serena inside, leaving me to stand awkwardly on the doorstep. At the same time, a faint wave of disappointment washed over me. So this was Elara’s mother. Seeing me just standing there, my mother turned and snapped, “What are you doing, just standing there like a statue? The cooking isn’t finished. Go and do it. Don’t think you can get out of everything just because you’re pregnant.” “Let me tell you, when I was pregnant with you, you gave me nothing but trouble. And I still had to cook for everyone when I was eight months along.” “I should never have had you. If only Serena were my real daughter. She’s so beautiful and thoughtful…” She rambled on, her voice dripping with disdain for me. Her sharp words were like an invisible hand, squeezing my heart until it felt like it would burst. My pulse quickened, pounding against my ribs. So this is what it feels like when your heart breaks completely. I saw Aaron frown at me and Serena smirk in triumph. I had no choice but to retreat to the kitchen. Tears blurred my vision. I leaned against the counter, forcing myself to calm down. From outside the kitchen came the sound of their cheerful laughter. They were a perfect, happy family. No one gave a second glance to the pale, trembling woman in the kitchen. I had heard that Serena’s mother died saving mine. Wracked with guilt, my mother adopted her as a goddaughter, and from that day on, Serena became the treasured jewel of the family. Because of a single, childish comment—that I didn’t like her, that I might bully her—I was sent to my grandmother’s in the countryside before I was even eight. When I was finally brought back home, they constantly reminded me to give in to Serena, to let her have her way. Even Aaron doted on her. “Elara,” he would always say, “it’s your family’s fault she’s an orphan. This is a debt your family owes her.” But the one who owed the debt was my mother. Why was I the one who had to bear all the blame? The original Elara never understood. Neither did I. I was bound by karma. I couldn’t divorce him, nor could I cut ties with my mother. But even though my heart was breaking, I still had to eat. As a stone, I could neither eat nor drink. Now, I cherished food. At the dinner table, as they chatted, Serena suddenly spoke up. “By the way, Aaron, now that my sister is pregnant, it’s not very convenient for her to keep working at her old company. Why don’t you let her join yours?” Aaron frowned. “She doesn’t have the qualifications. I can’t bend the rules for her.” My chopsticks paused. A sharp, needle-like pain pierced my heart. The year Elara graduated from high school, Serena had hidden her university acceptance letter. Thinking she had failed, she got a simple job right after graduation. Though she eventually earned a degree through self-study, in the eyes of someone like Aaron, it held far less weight than a degree from a traditional university. When Aaron found out about it, all he had said was, “That’s just fate.” Remembering this, I clung to a final shred of hope and asked the question Elara had never dared to ask. “Aaron, can’t you make an exception, just this once?” 3 Aaron’s brow furrowed, and he answered without a hint of hesitation. “If I make an exception for you, then others will ask me to make exceptions for them. If I let you in today, someone else will want a spot tomorrow.” My mother chimed in, “Aaron’s right. You can’t set that kind of precedent, or the whole company will fall into chaos. If you find your job inconvenient, just quit. It’s not like anyone is counting on you to support the family.” So, giving his own wife a job would disrupt the company, but letting the clueless Serena become his personal assistant was perfectly fine. I managed a weak smile. “Forget it. I was only joking.” The table fell silent. After a moment, Aaron hesitated. “Well, maybe… you could be my assistant? Usually…” “Sister, I’m so sorry!” Serena cut him off, her eyes welling with tears. “If I hadn’t been so thoughtless back then and lost your acceptance letter, you wouldn’t have…” Clatter! Before she could finish, my mother slammed her chopsticks on the table. “That was years ago! Are you still blaming your sister for it now?” “Elara, can’t you be more understanding for once? Missing out on a university degree hasn’t affected you that much!” Her shrill accusations echoed in my ears, a roaring sound that made me want to vomit. I knew this was the original Elara’s trauma response. She had endured so much scolding that her body reacted this way automatically. My heart throbbed with a searing pain. I tried to stand up to get my phone, but the world swam before my eyes. My legs gave out, and I crashed heavily against the table. With a series of sharp cracks, the dishes and food went flying. Sharp porcelain shards dug into my elbow, and blood welled up instantly. My mother jumped, her voice hesitant. “What’s… what’s wrong with you? Are you not feeling well?” She reached out to help me, but Aaron’s cold voice stopped her. “Is faking sick really that interesting, Elara? You send me every one of your check-up reports. I know you’re perfectly healthy.” But in all this time, he had never once gone with me to a check-up. He had no idea that after every appointment, I would go see a therapist. Aaron’s words ignited my mother’s anger. She shot me a glare. “This family has no peace with you in it! Come on, let’s go eat out!” She grabbed Aaron and Serena, one in each hand, and pulled them out the door. Just before she left, Serena turned back and gave me a triumphant smile. I sat there, a pathetic figure amidst the wreckage of the meal, gasping for breath, unable to move for a long, long time. The sky turned completely dark, and they never returned. I stared at the calendar, silently counting down in my head. Five days left…

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1 Here’s a more detailed version while keeping it concise: After my parents died in a tragic accident, I was sent abroad for five years of secret, intensive training before finally returning to take my place as the head of the Knight family. At a high-profile auction, I intended to buy gifts for my relatives—until the final item was unveiled. The moment the red cloth was pulled away, my blood turned to ice. Inside a massive black iron cage was my older sister, heavily pregnant, on the verge of childbirth. My grandmother sat in the audience, tears streaming down her face in despair. Behind my sister’s husband stood his ex-wife and their daughter, both smirking with satisfaction. “Jasmine and her mother tried to care for you,” my brother-in-law sneered, “yet you humiliated them, throwing money at their feet. Since you have so much to spare, why not light a sky lantern to save your granddaughter?” My sister cried for help, but no one dared intervene. Five years away—and they dared treat a Knight like this? Did they truly believe I was gone? Our butler was frantic. “Young Master, I’ll get the auction house president over here right now. We’ll have them release her and then make them kneel and apologize.” My eyes darkened. “Wait. I want to see exactly what they plan to do to my sister.” To dare to lay a hand on a Knight right under my nose… they must have a death wish. A chorus of lewd laughter erupted from the men in the audience as they openly appraised my sister. “As expected of the eldest daughter of a prestigious family. Even pregnant, she has a certain charm.” “Mr. Monroe, are you really willing to auction off your beautiful wife for your friends’ entertainment?” My grandmother was trembling, her eyes shooting daggers of pure hatred at the man on the stage, Felix Monroe. “Felix, if it weren’t for Iris willingly donating a kidney to you all those years ago, you would have died from renal failure!” “And when your company was on the verge of bankruptcy, it was Iris who used all her savings to help you get through it!” “You’re ungrateful, and now you’re doing this to her because of another woman! Do you even have a heart?” Felix just sneered. “She did all of that willingly. What does it have to do with me? You two humiliated my ex-wife and daughter, which is the same as humiliating me!” “The grand finale of this auction,” he announced with a flourish, “is one night with my pregnant wife, Iris Knight.” “Damn, this is getting exciting!” someone shouted. My grandmother’s eyes rolled back, and she almost collapsed. “Stop the act,” Felix’s ex-wife, Helena, chimed in. “Weren’t you two so high and mighty when you were trying to kick Jasmine and me out?” “So what if Jasmine accidentally pushed her? Was that any reason to throw us out on the street?” “She tried to push Iris down the stairs! She wanted to kill her and the baby!” my grandmother’s voice trembled with a residual fear. A five-year-old child with such a vicious mind. If they had called the police then, Helena and her daughter would have been arrested. All she had done was offer them money to find another place to live, simply to protect her granddaughter. “Your precious granddaughter is pregnant. Besides being auctioned off for a night, she and her baby can be sold together.” “The Knight family is so rich. Why don’t you light three heavenly lanterns to save her?” Helena added, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Lighting a heavenly lantern isn’t that easy. Each one costs over a hundred million. The Knight family has been bled dry. Their prestigious name is all they have left.” “You and your precious granddaughter are living hand-to-mouth, surviving on welfare checks. Lighting a heavenly lantern is a pipe dream.” “And don’t even think about getting the money back from Felix. You gave it to him willingly. Without an IOU, we don’t acknowledge it.” Helena watched my grandmother’s face grow even paler, and she laughed with satisfaction. My eyes narrowed. Since when were my grandmother and sister so poor they had to rely on welfare? I stared at Helena and her daughter, Jasmine, standing behind Felix, and my fists clenched. The limited-edition jewelry they were wearing… I had specifically bid on those pieces at an auction abroad to send to my grandmother and sister. I looked at my grandmother’s hands, calloused and rough, her skin peeling. She was so thin she was just skin and bones, and she had aged visibly. Inside the cage, my sister’s eyes were bloodshot. She looked like she wanted to tear the three of them apart. What Helena said must have been true. What on earth had happened in the five years I was gone? The Knight family was once as wealthy as a small nation. And my grandmother had her own powerful family backing her. How could they have fallen so low? “Investigate. I want to know everything that has happened in the last five years.” “Yes, Young Master.” For five years abroad, I had been undergoing the family’s secret training, living on the edge of life and death every single day. The only contact I had with home was through my uncle, who I would call in secret to check on them. But two years ago, his phone went dead. I had to accelerate my progress, and the moment I inherited the position of head of the Knight family, I rushed back. From the cage, my sister’s heart-wrenching screams echoed through the hall. “Felix, you bastard! How could you do this to your own child?” Felix was unfazed. “I have Jasmine. One daughter is enough. As for the baby in your belly… it’s not going to have the Monroe name anyway.” “But she is your wife! You’re the one who willingly married into the Knight family!” my grandmother cried. “Old woman, if you don’t have the money to bid, then get out. Don’t waste everyone’s time.” My sister’s eyes filled with despair. The men in the audience were perverts. After one night with them, it was uncertain if she would even wake up alive. “If the two of you kneel and apologize to them, I might consider letting her live.” My grandmother gritted her teeth in fury. “You want me to kneel and beg you?” My sister screamed in desperation, “Grandma, no! You can’t!” Jasmine suddenly burst into tears. “Daddy, they’re bad people! They said I was an unwanted burden and should just die!” Hearing this, Felix’s gaze turned icy. My grandmother steadied herself against a chair, slowly rising to her feet. She raised her bidding paddle, her voice trembling but resolute. “I… I want to bid!” 2 I stared at my grandmother in shock. I knew she couldn’t even produce a thousand dollars right now. Her monthly welfare check of five hundred wasn’t even enough for them to eat properly. But if she couldn’t pay, they would break her legs. The auctioneer released my sister from the cage and fastened a collar around her neck. She desperately tried to cover herself with her hands, but it was futile. “And now, we begin the bidding for one night with Mrs. Monroe. The starting bid is one cent.” A deafening roar of laughter erupted from the crowd. “One cent? Did I hear that right? That means any man here can have her!” “This is the eldest daughter of the top-tier Knight family. Back in the day, her line of suitors stretched all the way to France.” “Mr. Monroe is a generous man. This is practically a free gift!” “I’ll bid ten thousand!” The bids climbed rapidly, quickly reaching half a million. Felix took out his phone and projected its screen onto the large display. “We’re already at half a million. I’ll throw in a little bonus.” The screen showed my sister, heavily pregnant, in a series of seductive poses, her private areas pixelated. “My god, that’s so vulgar. I never would have guessed the prim and proper Miss Knight was so wild in private.” “That body is incredible. I love pregnant women. She’ll be fun to train.” “One million!” My grandmother glared at Felix and his family, her face contorted with rage. But he was busy draping a coat over Helena’s shoulders and buying ice cream for Jasmine, a perfect picture of a happy family. “Two million!” “Five million!” “I’ll light a heavenly lantern!” my grandmother screamed, then collapsed back into her chair, her face turning an even more ghastly shade of white. “Mrs. Knight, you want to light a heavenly lantern?” Helena sneered. “Can you even afford it?” “We have to verify your funds first. If you don’t have the money, don’t blame these men for not being polite to an old woman like you.” “I have the money. You can verify it anytime.” Helena burst out laughing. “Stop bluffing. If you had money, would you and your precious granddaughter be picking through leftover vegetables at the market?” My grandmother ignored her, taking out a family seal and handing it to the auctioneer. “Please, verify.” “It’s a waste of time. You’re just a shameless old woman, using your age to cause trouble here.” Before Helena could finish, the auctioneer slammed his gavel. “Congratulations to Mrs. Knight for successfully lighting a heavenly lantern! The night with Mrs. Monroe belongs to you.” Helena was dumbfounded, her face twisting into a hideous snarl. “You must be mistaken! How much can a stupid old seal be worth?” Felix’s eyes were fixed on the seal. Suddenly, as if remembering something, he crushed the wine glass in his hand. 3 Seeing the seal, I remembered it was the heirloom of my grandmother’s family. There was only one in existence, the most precious thing she had owned for years. The seal could be used to borrow fifty million from the bank, but the price was permanent excommunication from her family. After all, anyone who would cash in their family’s heirloom was no longer worthy of being a member. She wouldn’t have sold it, severing ties with her own family, unless she had no other choice. But for something so valuable to be exchanged for such a small sum… she had clearly been taken advantage of. The president of the auction house was kneeling before me, trembling like a leaf, sweat pouring down his face, too terrified to even breathe. On the auction floor, the lecherous men were grumbling with disappointment. “To let some old hag light the heavenly lantern.” “Damn it, I wanted a taste of that beautiful pregnant woman. Now it’s all ruined!” The auctioneer smiled and told them to be patient, because something even more explosive was coming. “Tonight’s second grand finale item is… Mrs. Monroe’s body!” “According to the medical report provided by Mr. Monroe, Mrs. Monroe has a rare blood type, RH-negative. She can be purchased for use as a private blood bank.” A fresh wave of gasps rippled through the hall. RH-negative blood was incredibly rare. Those who had it were often kept under the protection of powerful families. For an ordinary person to own a walking, talking blood bank was like a dream come true. It was a truly fitting finale for the auction, and everyone was eager to bid. “Such a rare blood type… If I buy her and have twenty kids with her, won’t I have an infinite blood supply?” “Exactly! And as long as she doesn’t die, she can keep having babies. The world record is fifty-eight.” “Plus, I can have some fun with her too. Two birds with one stone. Perfect!” The men surged forward, their grimy, stinking hands reaching out, groping my sister’s body. My grandmother, enraged, grabbed her cane and started swinging wildly at their heads. “You old hag, how dare you attack us! You’re asking for it!” A fist stopped mid-air. It was Felix. He spoke in a cold, warning tone. “Don’t cause trouble here. Don’t forget, the new owner of this place is ruthless. You don’t want to cross him.” “Once the bidding is over, these two are ours to do with as we please. Whether they live or die is up to us.” The men exchanged glances and, for the moment, backed down. “You old hag, we’ll deal with you later. I’m buying your granddaughter’s life. I bid ten million!” “Twenty million!” “Forty million!” My grandmother collapsed onto her chair. On the stage, my sister’s eyes were filled with utter despair. Helena was triumphant again. “You don’t have the money to save your precious granddaughter this time, do you? I’d say lighting that first lantern was just a final, desperate struggle.” “You lit one heavenly lantern. You can’t possibly have the money to light a second one. Just wait and watch your granddaughter become a living blood bag.” “Light… light the heavenly lantern!” My grandmother raised her bidding paddle, mustering all her strength to shout the words. My sister stared at Felix, tears of blood streaming from her eyes. She hated him with every fiber of her being. Their years of love and companionship had all been a giant lie. Before they were married, Felix had hidden the fact that he was divorced, presenting himself as a caring, successful professional. It was only after my sister had given him everything that he revealed his true colors. Felix sneered. “See that? This is what you get for insulting my ex-wife and daughter.” My sister closed her eyes, letting the bloody tears trace a path down her cheeks. She hated herself for giving her heart away so easily, and now she was dragging her only remaining family down with her. In that moment, she broke down, sobbing. She regretted everything…

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I had my heart set on a diamond ring at the auction, the one I’d chosen to be my wedding ring. A symbol of my future with Damian. But no matter how high I bid, the young woman Damian sponsored always outbid me by a single dollar. Damian just smiled, a picture of helpless affection. “Darling,” he murmured, his voice a low thrum against my ear. “You know how she is with shiny things. Just let her have it. Be good.” In response, I lit the lamp. Zoe fled the hall that day, tears streaming down her face. Damian simply kissed my forehead, a soft, forgiving gesture. “My feisty girl,” he chuckled. He didn’t chase after Zoe. In the year that followed our wedding, he was an insatiable, inventive lover, claiming my body night after night, never giving me a moment’s peace. Then, today, an invitation arrived for a private auction. And there it was, projected onto a massive screen for all to see: a photo of me, lost in ecstasy beneath Damian. A trophy. Damian’s arm was wrapped possessively around Zoe’s waist. He looked at me, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “You love to light the lamp, don’t you? Well, here are three hundred and sixty-five photos. If you don’t want them falling into other hands, you’d better start bidding.” … I stood frozen in the auction hall, surrounded by dozens of men, their leering eyes fixed on the screen as they traded vulgar comments. “Damn, she’s pure filth! And here I thought I’d seen it all. First time a single photo has gotten me this worked up.” “Tsk, tsk. Who would’ve thought? Aria Ashton looks so pure, but in bed, she’s wilder than a professional. And to think she has the nerve to tell us to get lost if we even get close.” “Damian, you lucky bastard. You’ve really broken in the precious daughter of the esteemed Ashton family, haven’t you?” a man said, winking at Damian, who was seated in the place of honor at the front. My fists clenched, my body trembling as I forced myself to turn and face my husband. In the seat beside him, the one that should have been mine, sat Zoe. Damian didn’t even try to hide it. His lips curled into a lazy, satisfied smile. “For the winner of each photo,” he announced, his voice smooth as velvet, “a full video of that night will be included as a bonus.” “A man of taste and generosity!” The room erupted. Damian’s gaze locked onto mine, his handsome features alight with amusement. “Don’t look at me like that. I told you, you can light the lamp. Three hundred and sixty-five times. Take your time.” “Come on, Damian, you must know! The Ashton family went bankrupt. She’s got next to nothing left!” someone shouted from the crowd. “To light the lamp costs fifty million a pop! She’d be lucky to have a hundred million to her name right now!” Damian raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Oh? Is that so?” “Tsk! What a shame. Three hundred and sixty-five photos, each one a masterpiece. Honestly, I’d be tempted to buy them all myself for… private study.” A man stroked his chin, sighing dramatically. “Too bad the only one here with that kind of cash is Damian himself.” Damian just laughed and held up a hand. “Gentlemen, please. Thorne Industries will not be bidding on any lots tonight. All proceeds will be donated to charity. Enjoy yourselves.” A wave of cheers washed through the hall. “Now that’s a true philanthropist! Good thing Thorne Industries quietly squeezed out all the Ashton’s business partners, or we might not be getting our hands on these photos today!” “What’s there to worry about? There are dozens of us. We can all get a piece!” “No way! That third one is a work of art. I’m taking that one, no matter the cost!” My voice was a strangled whisper, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I stared at Damian, the reality of his betrayal crashing down on me. “Ashton Industries… it was you? You’re the one who destroyed my family?” He simply held my gaze, that chilling smirk never leaving his face. Tears streamed down my cheeks. “Why?” I croaked, my voice raw. “Just because I lit the lamp that one time, a year ago?” He ignored my anguish, picking up the microphone. “We’re on a schedule, Ms. Ashton. If you’re not going to participate, I’ll let my friends begin.” The men watched me, their eyes filled with a predatory hunger. Every single person in this room was a titan of industry. The hundred million I had left, my entire fortune, was probably what they spent on a weekend getaway. How could I possibly compete with them? “Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.” I wiped my tears away, turning and walking out before I completely shattered. I was afraid I would start screaming and never stop. A chorus of jeering laughter followed me. “Look at that, even a whore can feel shame, hahaha!” “Damian, don’t wait for her. What’s a hundred million to us? She’s just making an excuse to run away.” “All of you, shut up,” Damian’s voice cut through the noise, cold and sharp. He stared intently at the doorway I had just disappeared through. The room fell silent. A few minutes later, I pushed the door open. Under the stunned gaze of every man in the room, I returned to my seat, my eyes still red and swollen. “Let’s begin.” Damian shot me a look, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. To better display the “exhibits,” the main screen had been expanded into a panoramic, wrap-around display, ensuring my humiliation was visible from every angle, in a constantly rotating slideshow of my most vulnerable moments. “The first photo,” the auctioneer announced with a sleazy grin. “Bidding starts at two million.” The room buzzed with excitement. “Sublime! Absolutely sublime! She’s an artist, that one. The ‘proper’ ones are always the freakiest.” “Two and a half million!” The auctioneer just smiled, and with a flick of his wrist, a block of text appeared on the screen next to the photo. I shot to my feet. It was a lurid, play-by-play of our wedding night, written with an intimacy and detail that… There was only one other person who could have written that. My trembling gaze found Damian. He sat there, a mask of detached amusement on his face as if he were a mere spectator. Only when Zoe leaned in to whisper something in his ear did his expression soften, his eyes filling with a tenderness he never showed me. The whispers and snickers around me were a physical force, threatening to drown me. “I thought the photos were hot, but the story is even better! Don’t you dare fight me on this one! Five million! I want that video!” “Six million!” “If she’s this wild on the first night, I can’t even imagine what came next… Tsk, tsk! Ten million!” “Light the lamp.” My own voice was a ghost of a sound, shaking but clear. Every head in the room swiveled towards me. The auctioneer’s professional smile faltered for a second. “Number 38 lights the lamp. Are you sure?” I sank back into my chair, feeling drained. “I’m sure.” “Tsk! A damn shame. That video must be incredible.” “What are you worried about? How many more can she afford?” “Exactly. She only gets better with practice. The later ones will be worth the wait.” “Number 38 lights the lamp! Congratulations to Ms. Ashton on her acquisition of the accompanying video!” I closed my eyes, my nails digging so deep into my palms I thought they would draw blood. The screen immediately flashed to the second photo, complete with another graphic description. “The second photo! Bidding starts at two million!” The room was on fire now. “Is this for real? This is better than any of my ‘educational materials’!” A man sitting near me leaned in close. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’re full of surprises. So prim and proper on the outside, but you’re just a slut in private, aren’t you?” I shot him a venomous glare, and he roared with laughter. “Oh, I like that fire! If Damian doesn’t want you, I’ll take you. I’ll even help you with a bid, how about it?” “Don’t touch me,” I snarled, my voice cold enough to freeze hell. He just snorted and leaned back. “Playing hard to get? You’re used goods, sweetheart. Ten million!” “Twenty million!” “Twenty-five million!” “Light… the lamp.” I don’t know where I found the strength to say it. The auctioneer gave me a long, meaningful look. “Number 38 lights the lamp!” As the sale was finalized, his professional smile returned, now laced with condescension. “That’s two lamps lit, Ms. Ashton. According to our verification, that leaves you with a cash flow of less than five million dollars, correct?” My voice was flat, lifeless. “Continue.” “Hah.” A flicker of undisguised contempt crossed his face before he presented the third photo. “The third photo! Bidding starts at two million!” “Light the lamp.” At the sound of my voice, the entire room stared at me in disbelief. The auctioneer’s face hardened. “Ms. Ashton, your initial verification showed a net worth of one hundred and four million. You’ve already spent one hundred million. You do not have sufficient funds.” A man winked at me. “Beg me, darling. I’ll light it for you.” I ignored them all, my gaze fixed on Damian. He was watching me too. But there was no hint of pity in his eyes, only a smug, derisive curl of his lip. Everyone looked from me to him. After all, he was still my husband. “Why is everyone looking at me?” Damian asked, a lazy drawl in his voice. “I already said, the floor is yours tonight.” The men breathed a collective sigh of relief. “Our thanks to Mr. Thorne for his generosity!” Just then, Zoe, who had been silent beside him, raised her hand. “I’ll do it. I’ll light the lamp for my sister.” Damian looked at her, a brief flash of surprise giving way to an undisguised, warm smile. Zoe turned to me. “After all, Aria sponsored my studies abroad. I can’t just stand by and not repay her kindness, can I?” The smile in Damian’s eyes deepened. Staring at Zoe, the icy wall he always kept up seemed to melt away completely. The room erupted in a chorus of sycophantic approval. “No wonder Damian adores Zoe! Who wouldn’t love a girl that sweet and obedient?” “Zoe is such a good girl. She blushes if you even tell a dirty joke. Not like some people, tsk tsk!” Their pointed gazes were like daggers in my back. A triumphant smirk flickered across Zoe’s lips before she masked it with a look of concern. “Don’t worry, Aria.” “What a performance.” She blinked, caught off guard. “What?” “This is how you repay me? By stealing my husband and my seat?” I leaned back in my chair, my voice dripping with ice. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t fallen so low that I need help from a backstabbing whore and a monster.” “Aria.” It was the first time Damian had spoken to me directly, and his tone was so cold it was like he was speaking to a stranger. I shot him a withering look before turning to the auctioneer. “I’m the one lighting the lamp. I’ll handle it myself.” “Well…” The auctioneer hesitated. “If you insist, we would have to include your real estate assets. But since Ashton Industries went bankrupt, their value has plummeted. It might just barely cover the fifty million.” “Then do it. Stop wasting my time.” “Tsk, tsk. The woman’s gone insane.” The men shook their heads, their voices laced with pity and mockery. “Giving up the roof over her head just to save face. What a shame, that third photo was my favorite.” “Don’t worry about it. We haven’t even gotten through a fraction of them. There are over three hundred left. What’s the rush?” “Right? I got a sneak peek. The later ones are so depraved she barely looks human, hahaha!” Their stares, a mixture of pity and scorn, bore down on me. “A cornered animal, fighting to the last.” “Next round, she’ll have no choice but to watch us buy up her filth.” “Tsk, tsk. I wonder what her face will look like then. Will it be the same expression she has in bed with Damian?” The snickering was relentless. I swallowed the lump in my throat, my hands clenched into tight fists, and looked up at the auctioneer. The fourth photo flashed onto the screen. “The fourth photo! Bidding starts at two million!” “Oh, now this one I really like! Fifteen million!” “Twenty million!” “Twenty-five million!” “Light the lamp,” I said again. Every eye in the room was on me. The auctioneer’s smile was strained to the breaking point.

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