During my summer holiday, recovering abroad, I saw the wedding announcement for my daughter, Sophie. Her fiancé was a sixty-year-old man. I rushed home immediately, only to find the three young men I had hand-picked and raised as potential sons-in-law fawning over our housekeeper’s daughter. When they saw me, they spoke one after another, their words a rehearsed chorus of condescension. “Charlotte, Sophie insists she has a taste for older men. We tried to stop her, we really did.” “But don’t you worry. After Sophie is married off, we’ll take good care of all the Shaw family businesses for you.” “And as for Rosalind, we’ll respect whoever she chooses to marry. The most important thing is that she produces a worthy heir for the Shaw family, to continue the legacy.” I looked at my own daughter, Sophie, standing silently beside them, her eyes dull and lifeless, a chilling numbness etched onto her face. A tremor of pure rage shook my body. These little pretenders, these would-be sons-in-law, thought they could steal everything from my daughter? They were living in a fantasy. … Their mouths kept moving, a relentless stream of noise, but I couldn’t hear a single word. I had chosen them myself from an orphanage years ago, bringing them into the Shaw family with the sole intention of grooming an excellent husband for my daughter. I never imagined their ambition would be so monstrous. As they prepared to speak again, I hurled my luggage directly at them. “Get out!” They froze for a second, stunned. But it was the housekeeper’s daughter, Rosalind, who scurried to pick up my bags. “Mrs. Shaw must be exhausted from her flight,” she cooed. “Don’t blame the boys for not picking you up. They’ve been working themselves to the bone at the company, just to make you proud.” For the first time, I took a hard look at her. Though she was the housekeeper’s daughter, her face was flawlessly made up, and she was adorned in jewelry that screamed expense. In stark contrast, my own daughter was dressed in worn, ill-fitting clothes. A stranger would have mistaken Rosalind for the heiress of the Shaw family. As if sensing my thoughts, she cast a shy, flirtatious glance at the three men standing beside her—Lucas, Shane, and Gabriel. “The boys are just so wonderful to me,” she said, her voice dripping with false modesty. “I can’t possibly choose between them right now. But you can rest assured, Mrs. Shaw, I’m not a materialistic person. I only look at the heart. When I become the young mistress of the Shaw family, I promise I’ll take very good care of you.” Her words made my head spin. Who gave her the audacity to say such things to my face? The three men behind her didn’t stop her. Instead, they puffed out their chests with pride. In that moment, I understood. Perhaps I had been too subtle in my intentions, leading them to believe they were being groomed as heirs to the Shaw fortune itself. But even so, that was no excuse for tormenting my daughter. I took a deep breath, took Sophie’s hand, and turned to Rosalind. “I don’t care if you’re looking at their hearts or their wallets. The affairs of a low-class servant are of no interest to me.” Rosalind’s eyes widened in disbelief, then quickly filled with tears. “Did I… did I do something to upset you, Mrs. Shaw?” Lucas was the first to react, stepping in front of Rosalind protectively. “Charlotte, don’t talk to Roz like that. Look at the stray puppies in the yard—she rescued every one of them. A person that kind couldn’t possibly have a malicious bone in her body.” My heart sank. I yanked up my daughter’s sleeve. Just as I feared, her arm was covered in an angry, red rash, swollen and raw in places, with scratches that looked like they’d been reopened countless times, some even oozing pus. I pointed a shaking finger at Lucas, my voice trembling with fury. “This is how you take care of her? Don’t you know Sophie is allergic to dog fur?” Shane immediately pulled Sophie away from me. “Sophie, tell your mother! Since when are you allergic to dogs? How could you lie to her like that?” He then turned to me, his face a mask of false concern. “Charlotte, you have no idea. Sophie is constantly bullying Roz! When you were away, she’d order Roz around, even faking sickness to make Roz take care of her all night… She does it all out of jealousy because she can’t stand us being good to Roz.” “So all these marks on her body? She did them to herself for attention.” I almost laughed. I carried this child for ten months. I knew her better than my own heart. He thought he knew her better than me? I was about to take Sophie to the hospital, but Gabriel blocked our path. “Charlotte, you’ve treated us like your own sons since we were children. Don’t you trust us?” He shook his head in feigned disappointment. “Sophie… she’s truly a lost cause.” As if to prove his point, he pulled out his phone and began swiping through photos of my daughter in compromising positions with various men. He shot Sophie a look of pure disgust. “You have no idea how filthy she is. The moment you left the country, she started bringing all sorts of men back to the house. If it weren’t for Mr. Warren being so generous, no one would want her!” At his words, I felt Sophie’s body tremble violently. I had always known that of the three, Gabriel was her favorite. To hear such vile words from his lips must have been like a knife to her heart. Rosalind looked at the photos, a smug smile playing on her lips before she covered it with a look of feigned distress. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have let Sophie be so reckless with herself.” The three men rushed to comfort her. “It’s not your fault she has no self-respect! Don’t blame yourself! This is all her own doing!” Hearing their words, Sophie ducked her head, her hand tightening on my sleeve. She bit her lip and whispered, her voice barely audible, “Mom, I didn’t.” My heart broke. I pulled her into a fierce embrace and glared at the vipers in front of me. “You are my only child. If I don’t believe you, am I supposed to believe these outsiders?” I swept my cold gaze over the three ungrateful wretches, a plan already forming in my mind. Before they could process the menace in my tone, I started leading Sophie towards the door, only to run straight into the leering face of Mr. Warren. His eyes raked over Sophie with a possessive, unsettling hunger before he smiled at me. “Mrs. Shaw. I’m here to take Sophie for her wedding dress fitting.” His oily expression filled me with revulsion. “You’re older than I am, and you want to marry my daughter? Are you insane, or am I?” The air went still for a moment. Lucas quickly stepped forward. “Sophie agreed to it herself! Besides, after all the years she’s spent running wild, her reputation is in tatters. A man of Mr. Warren’s standing is a huge step up for her.” He didn’t finish his sentence before my hand flew out, the crack of my palm against his cheek echoing in the hall. “Did I give you permission to speak? What gives you the right to negotiate my daughter’s marriage in front of me?” Lucas looked stunned, as if he couldn’t believe I would strike him. After all, I had once invested so much in him, believing he had the most promise of the three. He stood frozen, speechless. “I…” Rosalind rushed forward, cradling his face with a look of theatrical pain before turning to me, tears streaming down her face. “Mrs. Shaw, Lucas has been the one looking after Sophie for you all these years! Without him, Sophie would have probably ended up selling her body on the streets! Marrying Mr. Warren is the best she can hope for! How could you hit him?” Mr. Warren, recovering from his shock, puffed up with indignation. “Mrs. Shaw, I’m willing to overlook her… impurity. And you have the nerve to call me old?” He then shot a sneering look at Lucas and the others. “Everyone knows you spent all those years abroad trying to secretly birth a male heir. Too bad you’re hitting menopause and couldn’t pop one out, so you had to adopt some boys from an orphanage to be your successors!” “And as for this worthless daughter of yours,” he spat, “I’m still expecting a dowry of one billion dollars! You don’t actually think I want this soiled cabbage for free, do you?” And there it was. Now I understood how they dared to treat my daughter this way. But Mr. Warren’s information was fatally flawed. My years abroad weren’t just for recovery; I was expanding my business empire overseas. An empire that included a critical project for his company. He thought he was so clever, didn’t he? I couldn’t wait to see how pathetic he looked when he was on his knees, begging a woman like me for mercy. Seeing my silence, he took another step closer, his smile turning predatory. “You know, compared to your daughter who’s been passed around, I think I prefer you. How about this? Forget the billion-dollar dowry. You and your daughter can marry into my family together.” He didn’t finish the thought. Sophie, as if possessed by a different spirit, lunged forward and slapped him hard across the face. “Keep your filthy mouth shut!” Rosalind’s smile vanished. She grabbed Sophie’s arm. “Sophie, do you have any idea what you’re doing? If the Warren family calls off the wedding, who do you think will want you? Or are you still hung up on the boys? Are you refusing to leave so you can stay here and fight me for them?” At her last words, Lucas and the others let out a derisive snort. “Don’t worry, Roz. She’s no competition for you. Whether she likes it or not, she’s marrying into the Warren family today. It’s for the good of the Shaw family’s reputation.” Mr. Warren, recovering from the slap, roared with fury. He grabbed a fistful of Sophie’s hair and started dragging her toward the door. “So-called heiress? You’re just a worthless piece of trash nobody wants! Let’s go!” I slapped his hand away. “Sophie is my only daughter. Do you really think I would let her marry a piece of garbage like you? I’m warning you, touch her again, and I will make the Warren name disappear from this city.” He faltered, letting go but muttering under his breath, “You’re the one who threw her away in the first place. Don’t come back now playing the loving mother. This family will belong to Lucas, Shane, and Gabriel soon enough. You’d be smart to get rid of this hot potato while you still can.” Just then, several luxury cars pulled up outside. I recognized the emblem of a high-end auction house. They had called an auction house to the home. That must have cost a fortune. I quietly pulled Sophie aside and sent a quick text to my assistant. A few minutes later, she replied. [It’s done. I’m on my way now.] I breathed a sigh of relief and told Sophie to stay calm. The men from the auction house walked straight to Rosalind, laying out case after case of exquisite jewelry before her. “Miss Kane, here are the items the gentlemen won for you when they lit the lamp at the auction. We’ve brought them personally. And here are some new arrivals they asked us to bring for your consideration.” Rosalind shot a triumphant look at my daughter, then delicately touched a diamond necklace with a perfectly manicured finger. “Oh, there’s so much,” she sighed with fake nonchalance. “I’m running out of room.” Gabriel glanced at Sophie. “Well, since Sophie’s getting married and moving out, her room will be free for your things.” The auctioneer smiled. “In that case, gentlemen, if you would please settle the final payment today.” Even Mr. Warren’s eyes widened at the dazzling display. “Truly the heirs of the Shaw fortune. So generous.” At his words, Rosalind’s pride swelled. She deliberately picked up a crystal hairpin shaped like a rooster and pinned it in my daughter’s hair. I recognized it instantly. It was the “Phoenix Pin,” the final masterpiece of a legendary designer, and by far the most expensive item there. “I think this suits you,” she said to Sophie, her smile a cruel slash across her face. “A gift.” Then she feigned surprise. “Oh! It’s a chicken. I thought it was a phoenix.” With that, she yanked the pin out and threw it to the ground. The crystal shattered. “How tacky. We don’t want something as low-class as a chicken here.” Sophie started to lunge, but I stopped her with a cold laugh. “Smashed it? Wonderful. You couldn’t afford to replace it even if you sold yourself.” Lucas grabbed my arm. “Charlotte, Roz didn’t mean it. Besides, she’s the future daughter-in-law of the Shaw family. Of course she can afford it.” Shane and Gabriel chimed in. “Yes, didn’t you always teach us to be generous with the people and things we love?” Yes, I did. I thought they would cherish my daughter. Even while I was abroad, I sent them a substantial allowance every month, so she would want for nothing. I never dreamed they would spend it all on the housekeeper’s daughter. Lucas pulled out a black credit card and handed it to the auctioneer. “Move all of it to Rosalind’s room.” A few seconds later, the machine beeped. Insufficient funds. Lucas frowned. “How is that possible? Try this one.” The same result. Shane and Gabriel laughed, handing over their own cards. “No money, and you’re still trying to light the lamp for Roz? Don’t worry, we can afford it.” I pulled Sophie over to a chair, sat down, and calmly sipped my tea as the card machine repeatedly chirped its denial. The auctioneer’s patience was wearing thin. “Gentlemen, are you certain you can afford these items? As you know, lighting the lamp and then failing to pay incurs a penalty of double the value.” Finally, they all turned to me, their faces pale with panic. “Charlotte,” they stammered, “what did you do?” At that exact moment, my assistant burst in, followed by a team of people in sharp suits. “Mrs. Shaw, we’ve pulled all funding from the Warren Group’s domestic projects! All overseas collaborations have been terminated as well!” Mr. Warren stared at her, dumbfounded. “Pulled funding? What are you talking about?” He ran his tongue over his teeth, a mixture of panic and rage on his face. “Without me, who’s going to marry Sophie? If it weren’t for me, the whole city would know what a tramp she is! And what overseas projects? My overseas projects have nothing to do with you! Don’t you dare try to bluff me!” My assistant, her own face flushed with anger, threw a dossier at his face. “Are you really that ignorant, Mr. Warren? Mrs. Shaw is the silent owner of your overseas partner.” His eyes widened in horror. “You mean… The O-Brey Group?” I let out a cold laugh. “My husband’s name is Orion. My daughter’s middle name is Brielle. You didn’t even bother to do that much research before you came here to spout your nonsense?” He started to speak, but his phone rang. He listened for a moment, his face draining of all color, and then stumbled toward me. “Mrs. Shaw… it’s all a misunderstanding…” My assistant blocked his path. “You should probably head back to your office, Mr. Warren. Now that news of our withdrawal is out, I imagine your creditors are already lining up at the door.” Mr. Warren paled, then turned and fled, practically tripping over himself. Lucas, Shane, and Gabriel watched him go, their own faces a mask of shock. “Sophie’s father’s name is Orion? But we thought you married into the Shaw family… how could…” The auctioneer, seeing how things were turning, looked pointedly at the three of them. “Gentlemen, the matter of payment for these items is still unresolved.” They didn’t even dare to look at him. Only Rosalind, still oblivious, tugged at their sleeves. “Boys, what’s wrong? Why are your cards empty? Is something wrong with the company? Mrs. Shaw adores you, she can just pay for it, right?”

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1 My husband, Leo, was furious when he saw the Christmas gifts I’d bought for my trip home to my parents. “Every time you visit your parents, you shower them with gifts. You’re spending way too much!” he snapped. “I make more money than you do! You earn less but spend more. It’s not fair. From now on, we’re splitting our finances. Fifty-fifty.” I didn’t argue. I just agreed and set a few ground rules. From now on, we’d have separate bedrooms. We’d each support our own parents. And if he wanted me to cook or do housework, he’d have to pay for my services. A year later, my husband, now living paycheck to paycheck, was on his knees, begging me to take him back and tear up our agreement. I just smiled and handed him the divorce papers. “I think we’re better off making a clean break.” … Leo stared at the pile of beautifully wrapped gifts by the door, his brow furrowed in a deep, angry line. “Did you really need to buy all this just to visit your family?” he demanded, his tone dripping with accusation. It set my teeth on edge. Still, I managed to keep my voice even. “It’s two identical sets of gifts. One for my family, one for yours. Everything is exactly the same.” In our three years of marriage, I had never once favored my family over his. I’d always been meticulously fair. But even my painstaking efforts to keep the peace weren’t enough for Leo. He shot me a look of pure contempt. “I pull in over seven grand a month after taxes, and you’re bringing home, what, five? On what planet does your family deserve the same treatment as mine?” he sneered. “Why should my higher earnings be used to average things out? You earn less, but you spend more. Tell me how that’s fair.” His words were a punch to the gut, stealing the air from my lungs. All this for a few Christmas presents? Did he really need to blow this so far out of proportion, turning our home into a corporate boardroom where our love was measured by income brackets? Seeing my silence, Leo pressed his advantage. “My mom has mentioned this a few times, you know. I didn’t pay much attention, but now I see her point. You really are clueless when it comes to managing money.” “So, here’s what we’re going to do,” he declared, a triumphant gleam in his eye. “To make things fair and square, we’re splitting everything from now on. AA. You can spend your salary however you want, and I won’t say a word.” I stared at him, my heart sinking. Was this really the man I had shared a bed with for three years? It was clear this wasn’t a new idea. This resentment over household expenses had been festering for a long time, no doubt fanned into flame by my dear mother-in-law. Without a moment’s hesitation, I gave him a crisp nod. “Fine. We’ll split it. But if we’re doing this, we’re laying down some ground rules. Let’s get everything crystal clear.” Leo, clearly expecting a fight, was visibly thrilled by my quick agreement. He nodded eagerly, like a bobblehead. “Yes, yes! Let’s get it all in writing. That way, there are no hard feelings.” Hard feelings? I thought with a bitter laugh. You’re getting worked up over a few daily expenses? I calmly laid out my terms. “Starting today, we have separate bedrooms. Utilities and property taxes are split down the middle. We each support our own parents.” I leaned back, my voice taking on a steely edge. “You can wash your own socks and underwear from now on. If you want me to do your laundry or cook your meals, you’ll have to pay me for it.” “My cooking will follow my standards, at a rate of no less than $15 per person, per meal. And if you want me to handle all the housework, that’ll be an extra $500 a month.” I had barely finished my sentence before Leo shot to his feet. “Five hundred dollars? For a little housework?” he sputtered. I lounged back on the sofa, giving him a cool, dismissive glance. “A professional cleaning service would cost you at least eight hundred, probably more. The choice is yours. I’ll keep my own room tidy, but the rest of the house is on you.” “Or,” I continued, a smirk playing on my lips, “if you want to save money, you can do the dishes, sweep, and mop every day, and do a deep clean of the entire house once a week…” Before I could finish, Leo cut me off, his voice tight with irritation. “Fine! I’ll pay it! Happy now?” A triumphant smile spread across my face. You thought you could treat me like a free maid, did you? Let’s see how you like it when you have to actually pay for my labor. I pointed a finger at the gifts by the door. “I bought those with my salary. You can buy your own damn presents for your family.” 2 On Christmas Eve, we arrived at my in-laws’ house for dinner completely empty-handed. Leo plopped down on the sofa and immediately started scrolling on his phone. I mirrored his posture, pulling out my own phone. My mother-in-law’s face instantly soured. “Getting more shameless by the day, are we?” she grumbled. “Showing up to your in-laws’ house on Christmas Eve empty-handed? Who do you think you are, a princess?” In the past, I would have immediately taken over the kitchen. On Christmas Eve, I’d be up at dawn, shopping for ingredients and cooking all day while the three of them—Leo, his mom, and his dad—sat around waiting to be served. But tonight, the kitchen was dark and silent, the stove cold. Were they still expecting me to perform? My father-in-law, a man with a notoriously short fuse, jumped right in. “Ava, look around! Do you know any other daughter-in-law who acts like you? Have you forgotten all basic decency?” he roared. “We used to think you were so considerate. Was that all an act? Now you can’t even be bothered to keep up appearances?” Watching them fume gave me a strange sense of satisfaction. I had poured my heart and soul into being a good daughter-in-law, and what had it gotten me? Nothing but criticism. Every gift I ever brought, my mother-in-law would find something to complain about. “This is so impractical. You have no idea how to run a household! Leo works so hard for his money, and it just breaks my heart to see you waste it like this!” “And your cleaning… you’re not even as good as a maid. I have no idea what Leo ever saw in you!” See? I was damned if I did, damned if I didn’t. So I decided I might as well be a freeloader. I let them rant until they ran out of steam, then I spoke, my voice cool and detached. “Dad, Mom, don’t look at me. Leo was the one who insisted we go fifty-fifty on everything. The deal was, we each support our own parents, and we each buy our own gifts.” I paused for effect. “We also agreed that if I do any housework, I get paid. So, for tonight’s Christmas Eve dinner… how much are you offering?” Last year, I’d wanted to have Christmas Eve dinner with my own parents, so I booked a table at a five-star hotel for both families. It should have been a joyous occasion. Instead, my in-laws ruined it. They spent the entire evening loudly boasting about how brilliant their son was, not-so-subtly implying that I was just leeching off him. They even criticized me for not being frugal enough, booking such an expensive dinner. Never mind the fact that my mother had already insisted on paying for the entire meal. Did they really need to make such a scene? But the worst part was when they started pressuring me about having children, right there at the dinner table. “Ava, dear, that little salary of yours requires you to work so much overtime. Is it really worth it? At the end of the day, this family relies on our Leo to provide,” my mother-in-law had said with a saccharine smile. “Since you don’t earn much anyway, why don’t you just quit? You could focus on getting your body ready for a baby and stay home to take care of Leo and the little one.” Every word was a thinly veiled insult, a reminder that my salary was less than Leo’s. I have my own two hands. I love my job. Why should I be the one to make such a sacrifice? What infuriated me most was Leo’s reaction. He actually agreed with them! “She’s right,” he’d chimed in. “Who pays for everything around here? The food, the bills, the mortgage… it’s all on me. It wouldn’t make a difference whether you worked or not.” His salary, just over seven thousand a month, had gone straight to his head. Did he really think his money was inexhaustible? Now, hearing that I expected to be paid for cooking dinner, my in-laws exploded. My mother-in-law, in particular, launched into a tirade that showered me in spittle. Leo, his face grim, leaned in and whispered, “Just cook the meal, Ava. I’ll pay you later. Do you really have to ruin Christmas Eve for everyone?” I remained on the sofa, unmoved. “We have an agreement. Payment first, then services rendered. No credit.” My mother-in-law looked ready to attack, but a cold glare from me stopped her in her tracks. “You’re always complaining about how much I spend, aren’t you?” I said calmly. “Why don’t you go to the market and see how much groceries cost on Christmas Eve?” “Since we’re splitting everything, you should be the ones paying for the food anyway.” You love putting on a show for everyone, don’t you? Let’s see how long you can keep up the act. 3 As was tradition, Leo’s grandparents, his uncle, and his family were all coming over for Christmas Eve dinner. I had deliberately said nothing about buying groceries. I was waiting for this exact moment of chaos. Otherwise, his family would just sit back and expect everything to be done for them. My mother-in-law’s voice rose to a shriek. “A big dinner for all these people? Do you know how much that will cost? It’s already late afternoon! All the markets are closing. Where are we supposed to buy food now?” Getting desperate, are we? I shrugged. “I assumed Leo had already told you. Since we’re splitting everything, what happens in this house is no longer my responsibility.” I’d never met parents like them, who just expected their children to provide everything without lifting a finger. Every time they knew we were coming, they prepared nothing. I never expected a hot meal waiting for me, but they literally wouldn’t even buy a single vegetable. Contrast that with my parents, who would always have a feast of my favorite dishes ready whenever I visited. And when I left, they’d load me up with bags of food to take home. The difference was stark, and it was heartbreaking. My mother-in-law was pacing like a caged animal, while I sat calmly on the sofa, playing a game on my phone. If I hadn’t seen the text messages between Leo and his mother two days ago, I wouldn’t have stooped to causing such a scene on a holiday. Leo: [Mom, it’s done! As of today, Ava and I are officially splitting everything. You don’t have to worry about her wasting my money anymore!] Mother-in-law: [Oh, my son, you finally grew a spine! I told you that woman was only after your money. Who knows how many nice things she’s secretly bought for her own family behind your back!] Leo: [I know, right? Thanks for the wake-up call, Mom. I never even calculated how much she’s taken advantage of me these past few years!] Mother-in-law: [With that pathetic salary of hers, what right does she have to buy her family the same things as ours? They don’t deserve it!] Reading those words, a hot rage had boiled up inside me. I’d forced it down, placed Leo’s phone back where I found it, and avoided a confrontation. I was saving it for Christmas Eve, to catch them completely off guard. It was now prime time for dinner prep, and there wasn’t so much as a single leaf of lettuce in the house. Leo couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out the door. The local market was deserted, so we had to try the supermarket. Everything was closed except for a high-end organic grocery store. I didn’t mind. I leisurely strolled the aisles, tossing all my favorite things into the cart. With every item I picked up, Leo’s face grew darker. “Do we really need that much? This is too expensive! Can’t we get something else?” Oh, so now that it’s your money, you’re feeling the pinch? I thought. For the past few years, I’d spent hundreds on groceries for this dinner, not to mention the imported fruits and desserts. Did anyone ever feel sorry for my wallet? I stopped the cart and turned to him with a placid smile. “It’s a Christmas Eve dinner for ten people. Are you suggesting we serve three dishes and a soup? I don’t mind, but it’s not my reputation on the line.” There was nothing cheap in this store. Even a couple of organic cucumbers cost a small fortune. I remembered the years I’d bought jumbo shrimp, king crab, and fresh sea bass for this meal. Not once did they ever mention the cost. In fact, my father-in-law had complained I hadn’t bought enough, watching as his family devoured everything like a pack of wolves who’d never seen meat before. I could have bought a truckload and it still wouldn’t have been enough. Leo, gritting his teeth, had no choice but to let me continue shopping. As we reached the checkout, I grabbed a pack of festive envelopes from a nearby display. “Don’t forget the Christmas gifts for your parents and grandparents. In previous years, my standard was a $300 cash gift for each of them.” “Oh, and your cousin’s kid,” I added brightly. “I usually gave him $100. Just so you know.” As the words left my mouth, Leo’s face fell, looking like he’d just been handed a death sentence.

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The year I came of age, fate led me to buy the fallen Seventh Prince Valerius at a market. His sweet words left me with child—yet when he took the throne, no royal carriage came. Only a decree condemning my family to death. I went to him, heavy with child, begging mercy. Instead, he forced me to drink crimson petals as I watched my parents executed. Lord General Kaelan saved me, trading his military honors. “I’ve loved you from afar,” he swore. “Marry me, and I’ll cherish only you.” I believed him. Three years later, pregnant again, I overheard his confession: “She has Lirael’s eyes… No regrets, though I’m the one who urged the king to slaughter her family.” Loving the prince was my first sin. Loving Kaelan—the man who destroyed me twice—was unforgivable. 1 “If she was clever enough to seduce the Seventh Prince and carry his heir, she is no simple woman. Lirael’s heart is too pure. If Karen entered the court with a royal son, how could Lirael possibly contend with her?” “I could not let Lirael stand in harm’s way.” “But walls have ears, my lord. Sooner or later, Karen will—” “She will not,” Kaelan cut his friend off, his voice as cold as iron. “Karen will never know. I will not allow it.” “And I will spend a lifetime of devotion and fortune to make it up to her.” I bit down hard on my lip, my hand clamped over my mouth as I backed away with the dinner tray, silent as a ghost. Once inside my chambers, the door barred, I released my hand. Blood mingled with the tears that streamed down my face. When the King, Valerius, had ordered my parents’ execution, he forced me to watch. The horror made me swoon, and I collapsed into darkness. It was Kaelan who traded his loyalty and the entirety of his war honors to beg for my life. When I awoke, he held me, his voice choked with self-reproach. “The King cannot bear the memory of such a… tarnished past. Forgive me. I was useless. I could only save you.” All these years, he has openly defied the King. I thought it was because he loved me, that he was avenging me. I was so grateful, my gratitude blossoming into love. I never imagined he was the architect of my family’s doom. Thinking back, every time Kaelan had challenged the King, it had been because His Majesty had favored another court lady, neglecting Queen Lirael. Kaelan was simply fighting for the woman he truly loved. I was allowed to live only because of a passing resemblance to her. The thought of it all was like a dagger twisting in my heart. “Karen,” a voice called from the door. “The servants said you missed supper. Are you unwell?” “No… it’s nothing. I’m tired. I wish to sleep.” The door opened. I scrambled to wipe my tears and turned my back to him, but my hoarse, choked voice had already betrayed me. Kaelan’s hands were firm as he turned me to face him. The moment he saw my face, his brow furrowed. His thumb gently brushed away a tear as he spoke, his voice soft but laced with a suppressed fury. “Karen, did someone hurt you? Tell me who, and I will make them pay. Don’t cry. Every tear you shed breaks my heart.” Was it my heart he cared for? Or was he seeing Queen Lirael’s through my borrowed features? I shook my head. “You are the Lord General. Who would dare bully me? It is only… in three days, it will be the anniversary of my parents’ death. Thinking of them brings me sorrow.” Kaelan paused for a moment, his expression shifting to one of feigned grief. “Ah. It is my failing. I fear I may never be able to avenge you in this lifetime.” “It doesn’t matter. But the Autumn Moon banquet at the palace in three days… I will not accompany you. I wish to visit my parents’ graves.” The King murdered my family; I could not have my revenge. Now, discovering the true culprit was the Lord General, I still could not have my revenge. I was forced to play this charade with him, a constant betrayal to my parents’ memory. “Of course. It is not an important banquet. I will go with you. If we could have a child, I am sure it would bring comfort to your parents’ spirits in the heavens.” An involuntary shiver ran through me. After that draught of crimson petals, the royal physicians had said I would be barren. This child was a miracle from the gods themselves. I could not, would not, gamble my child’s life on the sliver of hope that Kaelan felt any true affection for me. “What is it?” Kaelan’s senses were sharp. He noticed my reaction instantly. “Karen, your monthly courses have been absent for some time. Could you be with child?” His tone was hopeful, but his eyes were filled with a wary, calculating light. I forced a brittle smile. “I wish it were so. But you know… I can never conceive again.” He handed me a small, ornate box. Inside lay a single, luminous white flower. A Silverwood Bloom. “Forgive my thoughtless words. Look, the Silverwood Bloom. I know you like it, and I had it specially sought out for you. Are you pleased?” Every autumn, a cough would plague me. I’d once heard that a tea made from this rare bloom was the best remedy. I had mentioned it only once, in passing, but Kaelan had remembered and sent men to the frozen peaks to find it for me. This time, however, I felt none of the usual joy or gratitude. I had once mistaken this for love. But it was only compensation for the slaughter of my family. I took the box and set it aside, my expression flat. “Thank you, my lord.” Seeing none of the delight he expected, Kaelan seemed disappointed but didn’t press the matter. “You are too frail to miss meals. I have had the servants prepare a new table of all your favorite dishes. Tonight, your husband will serve you.” Later that night, as I lay in bed, a tall shadow leaned over me from behind. “Lira… Karen…” Kaelan murmured my name—or hers—his hot breath ghosting across my neck, his fingers deftly unfastening the clasps of my nightgown. I once thought he was calling for me. Now I knew he was calling for the woman who truly held his heart, Queen Lirael. I suppressed the agony in my chest and pressed his hand, stopping its downward trail. “Another time. I am tired.” But he was insistent, his hand slipping beneath my chemise. “Karen, do you not want me? It has been nearly a month since we were last together.” My eyes snapped open. “Is it because the woman you love is now a queen that you seek solace in the arms of her substitute, my lord?” Kaelan froze, his voice suddenly sharp with alarm. “What are you talking about?” 2 I shielded my belly with my arm. “It’s nothing, my lord. Let us sleep.” “Pay no mind to the gossip you hear outside these walls,” he said, his voice tight. “You are the only lady of this house. There is no substitute.” “I swore to you, for all my life, you and you alone! What is this madness that has seized you tonight?” His voice rose, though I could not tell if he was trying to convince me or himself. I closed my eyes and said nothing. Kaelan, his interest lost, rose and moved to the chaise lounge across the room. After that night, he began to give me the silent treatment. Three days passed, and he did not set foot in my chambers. My maid, Bria, was worried. “My lady, why not tell the General of your pregnancy? With a child, he would surely not bear to be angry with you.” I took Bria’s hand. “Bria, I once saved you from being sold to a brothel by slavers. You said you would repay me.” “I am asking you now. This matter, whatever happens, you must not reveal it to the General or anyone else.” Given my condition, this child was a miracle. If I lost it, a second miracle would not come. Bria knelt, her eyes resolute. “Bria swore to serve you until death, my lady. My lips are sealed.” … On the day I was to visit my parents’ graves, the carriage, halfway to its destination, suddenly turned around. I drew back the curtain to see Kaelan blocking the road, his expression one of weary resignation. “Alright, I was wrong, Karen. Please, don’t be angry anymore.” “What is it you require, my lord?” Seeing that I was not yielding, that I had reverted to the formal title, Kaelan’s face hardened in disbelief. When we had first married, I had always called him ‘Lord General.’ It was he who had coaxed me, time and again, to finally call him by his name, to call him my husband. My use of his title now was a clear sign I would not forgive him. “Karen, it was just the idle whispers of common folk, meant to drive a wedge between us! I have already admitted my fault! If you continue to cling to this, and word reaches the palace, how is the Queen to feel?” So, it was for Lirael again. A sharp pain lanced through my heart. I lowered my lashes to hide my expression. “What is it you require, my lord?” At that, Kaelan lost his patience. “The Queen has suffered a miscarriage and is lost in grief. Today is the Autumn Moon banquet. You will accompany me to the palace and comfort Her Majesty.” The King’s favor was a fleeting thing. Even Lirael, once the shining moon of his desires, had now become common as bread. Her child had been lost to the scheming of a favored concubine, and the King had done nothing. Kaelan, unaware of my own pregnancy, now wanted to use my barrenness—my pain—to soothe Lirael. But it was Lirael herself who had forced the poison down my throat. Even after hearing of his devotion to her, I never imagined he could be so cruelly absurd. I clutched my stomach, refusing to go, my heart set on visiting my parents’ graves. But Kaelan accused me of being insensible. “Your parents are dead! How can the affairs of the dead be more important than the living? Besides, they were commoners. The business of the Crown is what truly matters!” Ignoring my wishes, he ordered the driver to turn the carriage around and galloped toward the palace, not forgetting to toss a few placating words my way. “After the banquet, I will come back with you to pay respects to your parents.” I was powerless to stop him. The carriage swayed and jolted. By the time we arrived at the palace, I stumbled out and could not help but retch a few times. “The carriage was a little fast, that’s all. Why are you so delicate? Hurry now, we mustn’t keep the Queen waiting.” Kaelan’s thoughts were already with Lirael. He urged me on impatiently. My face was pale, my body trembling with discomfort. Leaning on Bria, I forced myself through the palace gates. The banquet was split in two, the Queen and the ladies of the court on one side, the King and his lords on the other. The dishes were exquisite, and at the forefront was a platter of golden-scale trout. “This trout was a gift from the Duke of the Southern Shires. You must all try some,” the Queen announced. The fish before me was tender and succulent, but the smell was overwhelming. I retched again, unable to stop myself. Heads turned in my direction. “Lady Karen,” one of the ladies near me whispered, “could you be with child?” “Of course not,” I said, picking up a piece of fish to prove my point. But the scent hit me again, and I began to vomit uncontrollably. Now, everyone was staring. “Guards! Summon the royal physician for me!” the Queen commanded, her eyes boring into me. She muttered to herself, “Impossible! I poured the whole draught down your throat myself. How could you possibly be pregnant?” The physician arrived with terrifying speed. Before I could think of an escape, my pregnancy was exposed. I cursed my own frail body, unable to even conceal the sickness of early motherhood. “Why?” the Queen hissed, her gaze fixed venomously on my belly. “Why is my child gone, while you are allowed to have one?” “Lady Karen’s condition is a joyous occasion,” she said, her voice turning syrupy sweet. “Someone, bring that bowl of chilled crab soup and present it to Lady Karen as a gift.” 3 I couldn’t drink it. Even without a physician’s knowledge, I knew that cold-water crabs were chilling to the womb. To drink it would mean losing my child. Everyone else knew it too, but the Queen had spoken, and no one dared to intervene. Bria threw herself in front of me, a fragile shield against the inevitable. I was held down by several guards, their grips like iron, while a lady-in-waiting tried to pry my mouth open. “My lady is with child and her health is fragile! She cannot drink the soup! I beg Your Majesty, have mercy on my lady!” Bria pleaded, knocking her head against the stone floor until it bled. “Insolent slave! If you interfere again, you will be beaten to death,” the Queen declared. My strength was fading. Bria looked at me, her jaw set, and then with a sudden burst of strength, she broke free from her captors. She ran, screaming, to the other side of the feast, begging Lord Kaelan to save me. A procession of men strode over. Bria rushed to my side, and I finally breathed a sigh of relief. The situation was clear to all. Before the King could even speak, Kaelan stepped forward, knelt, and shifted the blame onto me. “Your Majesty, the Queen is kind and generous. This soup, made from the roe of a dozen prized crabs, is a rare delicacy. To offer it was a sign of her great favor. It is Karen who is ungrateful and spurns the Queen’s kindness.” The King’s eyes were dark pools of ink. “Oh? Then in your opinion, Lord General, should Lady Karen drink this soup, or not?” Kaelan glanced at me, his face a mask of conflict. He hesitated, saying nothing. “No matter,” the Queen said with a sigh. “Lady Karen is with child now, a precious state. I have lost my own child and have no heir to comfort me. If my humble gift is to be wasted, then so be it.” “Karen,” Kaelan said, picking up the bowl. “You always loved crab. It is a gift from the Queen. You should at least have a taste.” He brought the bowl to my lips. “The soup is cold. If I drink it all, the child will be lost. Kaelan, this is your child too,” I pleaded, my voice breaking, each word a drop of blood from my heart. “You were not raised in fragile luxury,” he said, his voice low. “You are strong. And the palace physicians are the best in the land. A single bowl of soup will do no harm.” The slaughter of my family, the poisoned draught… my body was a ruin of its former self. Kaelan’s eyes were filled with guilt, but the spoon he held to my mouth was steady. I knew then that nothing I said would matter. The affection I thought we shared had evaporated like mist. I wiped away my useless tears, took the bowl, and drank every last drop. As I drank, I knew that everything was finally coming to an end.

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My CEO wife controlled every penny—except what she gave me. Until she handed our $10 billion portfolio to Liam Bowen, her rookie financial advisor. At a make-or-break bidding dinner, my transfer failed. Liam called, oozing smugness: “Mrs. Sterling’s assets are under my control now. You need my approval for every cent.” With minutes left, he refused—”No 30-day advance request.” My rival sneered: “A VP who can’t scrape together 2%? Go beg your wife for allowance!” Three months’ work destroyed. Fine. If they wanted fury, I’d burn Sterling Industries to the ground. 1 After our rival won the bid, I stormed into my wife Serena’s office, my fury a roaring inferno, and slammed the now-worthless project proposal onto her desk. Before I could speak, she hit me with an accusation. “Adrian, you knew how crucial that government project was for the future of Sterling Industries. Why didn’t you do everything you could to win it?” “The moment Sterling’s competitor was announced as the winner, our stock began to tank!” Three months of sleepless nights, of skipped meals to avoid any mistakes, of enduring searing stomach pain to get to the meeting early—all of it was dismissed with a single, cutting phrase: “didn’t do everything you could.” I almost laughed. “I didn’t do everything?” “It was Liam Bowen who blocked the funds. I couldn’t even get into the bidding room.” “Do you have any idea how much overtime I’ve worked, how many client dinners I’ve endured for this? It was a sure thing, and we just handed it to them on a silver platter. No one is more furious about this than me.” “And you’re blaming me, instead of the one who sabotaged you?” Liam was there, too. White shirt, silver-rimmed glasses, hair slicked back with meticulous care—the perfect picture of a Wall Street shark. In reality, he was just a kid, a novice with zero experience. He’d taken five million of Serena’s money to invest and had managed to lose ten million in just three days. I had told Serena to fire him and hire someone competent. But she refused, insisting that Liam was young and needed opportunities to learn. I tried to give her the benefit of thedoubt, assuming she saw some hidden talent in him. After all, I had managed the finances before he arrived. Serena used to joke that having me as her “in-house CFO” gave her peace of mind. It was only when my own workload became overwhelming that she’d insisted on hiring a personal advisor. But now it was clear. Liam wasn’t just incompetent; he was ambitious. And he was using Serena’s protection to challenge my authority, brazenly telling me I needed to file a formal request to use our own money. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. “Handing over a ten-billion-dollar portfolio to a complete amateur,” I sneered. “Serena, if you have so much money to burn, donate it to charity. Don’t waste it on a failure!” Liam’s face flushed with humiliation, but he forced a humble expression. “Mr. Hayes, I understand you’re upset that I didn’t transfer the funds in time. But I was simply doing my duty, managing Mrs. Sterling’s assets. If I make one exception, soon everyone will think they can access her funds at will. I can’t take that responsibility. Please, try to understand.” He kept repeating that he was just “doing his duty.” But the company had its own approval process. Any department needing funds would go through finance. Besides her own husband, who else had the right to directly access her personal fortune? He was just a fox hiding behind the tiger’s might, flaunting his newfound power in my face. I let out a cold laugh, wondering if I’d become too agreeable lately, letting every stray dog think they could bite me. But Serena’s concern was for the “wronged” Liam. Her brief flicker of guilt towards me instantly morphed into annoyance. “Adrian, Liam already explained the situation to me. He did nothing wrong. You don’t need to make things difficult for him.” “Even if the funds were delayed, you could have found another way. You don’t just give up such a golden opportunity. I shouldn’t have to teach you that.” “Let’s just drop it this time. From now on, just follow the rules and submit your requests in advance.” In three years of marriage, we’d had disagreements over work, of course. But this was the first time Serena had ever sided with another man against me, telling me I had to beg for access to our own money. Had she forgotten that she owed her entire empire to me? Watching the triumphant smirk curl Liam’s lips, I fought to control the storm raging inside me. I looked at Serena, my voice ice. “Serena, do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” I was her husband. Our assets were shared. And she was letting another man dictate how they were used? But Serena had no intention of arguing further. She looked down at a file on her desk, dismissing me with a wave of her hand. “That’s enough. You can go now.” There was nothing left to say. I turned and strode out of the office. Once, Serena and I were the couple everyone envied, a rare case of genuine love in a marriage of corporate convenience. But Liam’s arrival had opened a crack in our perfect union. Serena, if you continue to ignore this crack, don’t come crying to me when it shatters everything. 2 I gave myself and my team a paid vacation and didn’t check in on the company once. A week later, a furious voice message came from Mr. Davies, one of our biggest clients. “Adrian, what is the meaning of this? I bring my associates to your club for a meeting, and you’re trying to charge me for a broken glass?” I had given Davies, our largest account, carte blanche at our exclusive downtown club, The Starfall, with all expenses billed to me. Every employee at Sterling knew this. They would never charge him. I called the club manager immediately. He stammered, “Mrs. Sterling has given Mr. Bowen full authority over The Starfall. Mr. Bowen says he’s in charge of the money now, and any expense not pre-approved must be charged. The approval limit is one hundred dollars per incident. And he specifically mentioned… especially for your clients, Mr. Hayes.” “Mr. Hayes, everyone in the company is whispering that he’s going to replace you. People are already lining up to kiss his ass.” The shards of a glass I’d been holding dug into my palm, drawing blood. Liam Bowen again. Replace me? He wasn’t worthy. I fought back my rage and told the manager to fix the situation immediately. But Davies snatched the phone. “A hundred dollars? Do they think I’m some kind of beggar?” he roared. “I was only considering Sterling because of you, Adrian. If you ever leave, I’d be happy to work with you again. But I am done with Sterling Industries!” He hung up. In his wake, a flood of calls came in from other clients, all informing me they were terminating their contracts. I’d had enough. I called Serena, my voice colder than the grave. “Serena, what is the meaning of this?” I deliberately stressed her name, a reminder of how absurd her decision was. The Starfall was the first major asset she bought with her first big success, a birthday gift to me. She’d named it using a blend of our names, a symbol of my authority and my place as the husband of the CEO. And now, she had thrown our promises and our rules out the window, handing it over to an unqualified upstart. It was a direct challenge, a slap in the face. But my questioning only seemed to annoy her. “You heard? Liam must have had his reasons. Stop targeting him over every little thing. As for the clients, just send them a gift basket or something to smooth things over. And remember to file a request with Liam a month in advance.” You don’t poke a tiger and expect it not to bite back. My face was a mask of cold fury. I had been giving her face, holding back. If Liam wanted to play at being powerful, I would show him what real power looked like. He demanded that all company expenses be approved by him? Fine. I put pressure on the entire company. Anyone who dared submit a request to Liam Bowen was fired on the spot. Soon, the very people who had been fawning over him were now mocking him, calling him a pretty boy who’d tried to sleep his way to the top and gotten slapped down by the real boss. Liam retreated, taking a leave of absence and posting melodramatic updates on social media. “Even when I’m deliberately misunderstood, I will swallow my grievances and face my work with a smile!” he wrote, accompanied by a picture of himself with artfully reddened eyes and a brave, pained smile. Serena called me immediately, furious. “Do you get some kind of sick pleasure out of bullying a junior employee?” “Adrian, can you stop being so unreasonable? There is nothing going on between Liam and me! I just think he’s hardworking. If you’re doing this out of jealousy, you don’t have to!” “And even if he was in the wrong this time, can’t you be the bigger person and just let it go?” I was her husband, yet she defended Liam at every turn, completely disregarding my feelings. Fine. I no longer had to care about hers. I hung up on her. To spite me, Serena bought Liam a new BMW. I didn’t argue. I simply authorized massive bonuses for the entire company. Top executives got luxury cars and jewelry. Junior employees received five-figure cash bonuses. Money flowed out of Sterling Industries like a river. Serena finally lost her nerve and called to stop me. The next day, she brought Liam to our home. He stood behind her, a picture of nervous humility. His eyes were slightly red, with faint dark circles beneath them. He was wearing a tailored black suit, understated and expensive. It was from my favorite brand, the one Serena always bought for me. He noticed my gaze and quickly stepped forward, bowing in apology, his voice dripping with sincerity. “Mr. Hayes, it was my mistake. I was being immature. I’m so sorry.” “The post I made yesterday, it absolutely wasn’t about you. I was just in a bad mood. Please, I beg you, find it in your heart to forgive me this once. From now on, your requests will always have my priority approval.” He kept his head bowed, the very image of a terrified subordinate. I didn’t even bother to look at him. I scoffed. “Priority approval? You really think you’re something, don’t you? Get out.” Liam flinched as if struck, his face a mask of profound humiliation. He struggled to maintain his composure. Serena thought I had gone too far. She glared at me. “Liam has already humbled himself and apologized! Do you have to grind a man’s dignity into the dust to feel satisfied?” Disappointment and a sense of the absurd washed over me. I sneered. “Forget whether he is worthy of me begging for money. You, as my wife, have repeatedly sided with another man against me, let him usurp my position, take over my responsibilities, made an exception for him at The Starfall, bought him a car and a suit—constantly blurring professional boundaries. Why don’t you ask yourself what you really want?” “There is nothing between Liam and me! Why won’t you believe me?” she shot back, stung by my words, her voice growing shrill. Just then, Liam spoke up. “Mr. Hayes, it’s all my fault. Please don’t argue with Mrs. Sterling because of me. She’s been very tired lately and needs to rest. I’ll go to the office and resign now. I won’t disturb you and Mrs. Sterling any longer.” This was Serena’s weakness. She immediately grabbed his hand, right in front of me, telling him it wasn’t his fault. “Mr. Hayes already despises me so much that he sold The Starfall just because I’d been there,” Liam said, his voice laced with sorrow. “And all the gossip at the office… if I stay, it will only make him unhappy and cause you more trouble. It’s better if I leave.” Serena, who had been about to scold me for bullying a junior employee, froze when she heard what I’d done. She stared at me, her eyes wide. “What? You sold The Starfall?” Oh, so now she remembers it’s important? Then why did she let an outsider manage it? I stopped looking at their entangled hands, leaned back against the sofa, and laughed coldly. “Serena, you broke the rules first. Why should I keep a piece of garbage that’s been tainted?” Before she could explode, I added, “Since you’ve broken the rules time and time again, crossed every line, and made me subservient to Liam Bowen, I no longer wish to be this company’s Vice President, or your husband. Let’s get a divorce.” Serena’s eyes widened in disbelief, her accusations dying in her throat. Seeing the calm resolve on my face, that I wasn’t just saying it out of anger, she panicked. She compromised. “This was my mistake. I didn’t consider your feelings. I promise it won’t happen again.” “From now on, you can access funds whenever you need. You won’t need Liam’s approval. And I won’t have any unnecessary contact with him. Are you satisfied now?” I looked into her eyes and decided to give her, and our marriage, one last chance. “Fire Liam Bowen. And blacklist him from ever being hired again. Then, I’ll pretend this never happened.” The relief on Serena’s face vanished, replaced by a troubled expression. She bit her lip, then finally conceded. She let go of Liam’s hand and turned her back to him. “Come to the office tomorrow to collect your personal belongings. You don’t need to come back after that.” Liam could only leave, his face a mask of resentment. That night, Serena cooked my favorite meal. We acted as if nothing had happened, the picture of a loving couple. But we both knew the cracks in our hearts could never be mended. The next morning, Serena and I went to the office together.

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My living expenses were managed through a linked family account my mother controlled. Every single purchase triggered an interrogation. Right now, my heart was hammering against my ribs as I stared at the order I’d just placed: a special rush delivery from a 24-hour pharmacy. As expected, my phone buzzed. “What did you buy?” Her voice was laced with ice. I watched the red dot of the delivery driver on the map. “A late-night snack for an adult.” A sharp crack echoed through the receiver—the sound of a teacup shattering. “Cancel it!” I leaned against the door, a small, bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Too late.” “He’s knocking on my door right now.” 1 “Maya, did you get to campus okay? Is your dorm room all set up? Remember to change the sheets to the pure cotton set I packed for you. Other fabrics are bad for your skin.” Over the phone, my mother’s voice was an invisible net, instantly tightening around the fleeting freedom I had just tasted. “I know, Mom.” My reply was mechanical. My eyes scanned the room, where my three roommates were bustling about. Their parents had already left, but mine insisted on “remote supervising” every single step of my move-in process. “Right, about your allowance,” my mother’s tone suddenly turned serious. “I’ve set up a linked family account for you. That way, I can see every one of your expenses.” “There are too many temptations at college. I need to help you stay on the right track.” My heart sank. A linked account meant every cent I spent would be instantly reported to her. She would know what I bought, when I bought it, and how much it cost. This wasn’t financial support; it was total surveillance. “Mom, the other students just get…” “The other students are the other students. You are my daughter,” she cut me off. “It’s settled. And remember, not a single penny on anything you shouldn’t be buying.” After I hung up, my roommate, Chloe, leaned over curiously. “Your mom really cares about you. She even set up a special account for you.” I forced a smile, not explaining the suffocation and control that lay beneath her so-called “care.” College life officially began, and so did the escalation of my nightmare. Every purchase, no matter how small, was followed by a call from my mother within five minutes. “Maya, did you just buy a bubble tea?” “Those drinks are unhealthy. Didn’t I pack you herbal tea bags?” “What was this $5 charge for?” “Oh, laundry detergent? Doesn’t the dorm have washing machines? Why would you buy your own?” “You bought a book? What book? A textbook? Send me the title.” Every day, I had to explain, defend, and even apologize for every trivial expense. My roommates quickly noticed my predicament. They shopped online, ordered takeout, and went out freely, while I lived under my mother’s financial microscope, where even a box of tampons required her approval. 2 One Friday night, a month into the semester, the dorm room was unusually lively. “No classes tomorrow!” Chloe suggested. “Let’s order some late-night food and watch a horror movie! My treat.” “No way,” said another roommate, Dana. “You paid last time. Let’s split it.” “How about… I get it?” I ventured, mustering my courage. “Consider it a thank-you for putting up with me this past month. My mom’s constant check-ins… I know it’s been disruptive.” I scratched my head, embarrassed. It was the first time I had ever offered to treat anyone. It was also my first attempt at a “large” purchase on the linked account—four barbecue platters, totaling $28. The moment the payment confirmation chimed, my phone began to vibrate violently. The word “Mom” on the screen made my heart race. “Hello, Mom…” “Maya Thorne! Where are you right now?” Her voice was a piercing shriek. “It’s ten-thirty at night! What did you spend twenty-eight dollars on? Who are you with?” I hurried out of the room, lowering my voice. “Mom, I’m just in the dorm with my roommates. We ordered some food…” “Liar!” Her voice escalated. “In the dorm? What in the dorm costs twenty-eight dollars? Are you out messing around with boys? I knew it! The moment you left home, you’d turn into this!” “It’s just barbecue, Mom, I can put my roommates on the phone…” “Don’t bother! Get back to your room this instant!” “No, video call me now! I want to see with my own eyes where you are!” she commanded, hysterical. I didn’t have a chance to explain. I mechanically obeyed. My hand trembled as I started the video call, the camera panning across my three stunned roommates and the freshly delivered food on the table. My mother’s face appeared on the screen, her makeup perfect but her features twisted with rage. “Hi, Mrs. Thorne…” Chloe managed a timid greeting. My mother ignored her, her eyes locked on me. “This is what you call ‘just some food’?” “Eating something so greasy this late at night? Can your stomach handle that? Is this what your allowance is for? To be wasted like this?” The barrage of questions continued. My roommates’ expressions shifted from surprise to awkwardness, and finally, to cold detachment. Dana simply turned around, went to her bed, and drew the curtain. “Mom, please, can we talk about this later?” My voice was practically a beg. “Now. Immediately. Send that barbecue back!” she ordered. “And then you will write me a formal apology, detailing your actions and thoughts tonight. I want to see it by tomorrow morning!” After the call ended, the room was shrouded in a dead silence. I stood there, holding the now-cold food, tears streaming silently down my face. “Maya,” Chloe finally broke the silence. “Is your mom… always like this?” I nodded, unable to speak. The aroma of the barbecue was suddenly nauseating, as suffocating as my mother’s omnipresent control. “Uh… we get it,” Dana said, peeking out from behind her curtain. “But maybe… don’t offer to treat us next time.” I knew then, just as before, that I wouldn’t be making any friends here. That night, I curled up under my blankets, writing the “apology” my mother demanded, my tears staining the screen of my phone. At two in the morning, my phone vibrated again. A long string of messages from my mother. [Is the apology finished?] [I’m doing this for your own good. The world is a dangerous place.] [You don’t know how to manage money. I am teaching you.] [Starting tomorrow, the daily limit on your account is reduced to $10.] [Learn your lesson. I love you.] I stared at the messages, and a horrifying realization dawned on me: This wasn’t love. This was a prison built in the name of love. My mother had woven an invisible net with money, trapping me completely, and I didn’t even have the courage to fight back. The next morning, while my roommates were still asleep, I quietly got out of bed and deleted the lie-filled apology. Instead, in a notebook, I wrote a single line: “How to apply for student loans and on-campus jobs.” My mother might never understand that her control wouldn’t make me better. It would only teach me how to lie, how to hide, and, eventually, how to rebel. And on that day, as I wrote that line, I knew I had finally taken the first step toward breaking free. 3 I stood before the campus job board, staring at a faded flyer for a full ten minutes. “Coffee Shop Help Wanted, $12/hour.” It wasn’t much, but it was enough to buy the basic necessities my mother wouldn’t approve of. I pulled out my phone, carefully took a picture of the contact information, but my finger hovered over the call button before retreating. The ten-dollar daily limit my mother had set meant that even buying a bottle of shampoo required me to “save up” for three days. My period had started unexpectedly yesterday, and I’d had to borrow a pad from Chloe. The pity in her eyes was more painful than any of my mother’s lectures. “Maya?” I spun around. It was Sarah, a senior from the student government. She was the president of the literary society and had once praised a book report I’d written. “Hi, Sarah.” I instinctively tried to block the job board, as if it were something shameful. “Looking for a part-time job?” she asked with a gentle smile. “The lit society is actually looking for an editorial assistant. Just organizing submissions every week. It pays a stipend.” My heart leaped. “Is there… an interview?” “Just send me some of your work.” She handed me a flyer. “Oh, and there’s a city-wide college writing competition next month. First prize is a thousand dollars. You should enter.” A thousand dollars! That was more than my mother gave me in five months. The hand holding the flyer trembled. Back in the dorm, I quickly tucked the flyer between the pages of a textbook. The room was empty; my roommates were probably at the dining hall together. They rarely included me in their activities after the “barbecue incident.” My phone vibrated. It was my mother’s routine check-in. “Did you check in for your morning class? Send me the screenshot,” she said through the speaker. “And I see from the account you only spent $2.50 at the dining hall yesterday. What did you eat?” “Vegetables and rice…” I answered quietly. “What about protein? Haven’t I told you to eat a balanced diet?” She sighed. “You’ll get sick like this. What will you do if you get sick?” I stared at the travel photos my roommates had pinned to the wall and suddenly interrupted her. “Mom, I want to apply for a work-study job.” A few seconds of silence on the other end. “A work-study job? Are you short on money? Didn’t I give you an allowance?” “It’s not about the money…” I chose my words carefully. “It’s about… gaining experience.” “Nonsense!” Her voice shot up again. “A student’s job is to study! What experience? That’s all a waste of time! Have you been influenced by some bad classmates again?” I bit my lip and didn’t argue. After hanging up, I pulled the old notebook from under my mattress, flipped to the page with “student loans,” and drew a thick X through it. My parents would definitely be notified about a loan. That path was closed. In the back of the notebook were fragments of a story I’d been secretly writing—a girl locked in a high tower, weaving a rope from her long hair to escape. I added a few new lines: The girl discovered that the witch who guarded her was afraid of mirrors… The next day at the literary society meeting, I gave my three revised short stories to Sarah. “This is really good!” she said, her eyes lighting up as she read. “Especially this one, ‘The Tower.’ The metaphor is so clever. Are you really just a freshman?” I stared at the tips of my shoes, unaccustomed to praise. “It’s… just something I wrote.” “No, you have talent,” she said seriously. “You have to enter the competition. The deadline is next Friday. Do you want me to look over your final draft?” As I left the student center, a light rain began to fall. I stood under the eaves, watching the raindrops splash on the pavement, and was suddenly reminded of my mother forbidding me from jumping in puddles as a child. I lifted my foot and stomped hard into the nearest puddle. Muddy water splattered my pants, and a strange thrill shot through me. My phone rang again. A video call request from my mother. I took a deep breath and answered. “Maya, where are you? Why is that a classroom building behind you? Aren’t you supposed to be in the library at this time?” Her eyes scanned my background like a searchlight. “I… I just finished an elective class,” I lied, my heart pounding. “What elective? It’s not on your schedule.” “It’s… literary analysis. It was a last-minute addition.” I quickly changed the subject. “Mom, my phone’s about to die. I’ll talk to you tonight.” After hanging up, I realized I was drenched in a cold sweat. It was so easy to lie. My mother wasn’t all-knowing after all. The realization was both terrifying and exhilarating. The following days, I lived a double life, like a spy. By day, I was the obedient student under my mother’s surveillance, sending her check-in screenshots on time and eating meals meticulously calculated to the cent. By night, I scribbled furiously in a corner of the library, pouring years of suppressed imagination into my competition entry. The day I finished the final draft of “The Tower,” I uploaded it to a cloud drive and typed in the submission email address, my fingers trembling. The thousand-dollar prize was the goal, but more importantly, this was the first thing I had ever decided to do entirely on my own. “Once you send it, there’s no turning back,” Sarah said with a smile, standing beside me. I shook my head, clicked send, and watched the words “Message Sent” appear. A wave of relief washed over me. “I won’t turn back.” On the way back to the dorm, the linked account notification chimed—my mother had deposited next week’s “limited allowance.” I stared at the number and suddenly smiled. She didn’t know that her daughter had found another key and was slowly turning the lock on the tower door. 4 Downstairs from the dorm, I saw Chloe holding hands with a boy, saying goodbye. When she saw me, she hesitated for a moment before walking over. “Maya… that’s Ethan, from computer science. We’re…” She blushed. “Congratulations,” I said sincerely. At the same time, I realized that if my mother knew I was associating with a classmate who was in a relationship, she would undoubtedly cut off my allowance completely. Chloe suddenly lowered her voice. “Actually… we all really admire you.” “Admire me?” “Your mom… if it were me, I would have lost my mind by now.” She gave an awkward laugh. “But you’re still doing your own thing. I saw you at the literary society the other day…” I was stunned. My “underground activities” weren’t as secret as I thought. “Um…” Chloe hesitated. “It’s my birthday next week. My boyfriend booked a karaoke room. Can you come? Of course, if your mom…” “I’ll be there,” I interrupted, without hesitation this time. “Whether she agrees or not.” The moment I said it, I felt something shatter inside me. It wasn’t fear. It was the shackles that had bound me for years. That night, my mother called for her usual check-in. I answered her questions calmly while writing a new line in my notebook: Linked account transaction records can be faked. The girl in the tower finally understood that the witch’s power came from her fear. And a mirror would force the witch to see her own twisted reflection.

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Anthony Johnson’s prized songbird bore twins—a secret he guarded fiercely. Until I stole them away. In retaliation, he strung up our son Leo by his ankles from the penthouse balcony, leaving him to roast in the midday sun. When I arrived, Leo’s face was scarlet, lips split and bleeding. His weak whimpers tore at my soul. “Isn’t Leo your son too?” I screamed. “And aren’t Cathy’s children mine?” Anthony snarled, pressing a stun gun to Leo’s ribs. “Tell me where they are, or I’ll make him beg for death.” Leo’s shrieks pierced the air as volts racked his small frame. Broken, I gasped the location: “The villa… outside the city.” Anthony fled—but returned too late. Our son had baked to death in the sun. 1 I clutched Leo’s limp body to my chest and raced to the hospital, a storm of denial and despair raging within me. Outside the emergency room, the doctor delivered the verdict with a heavy sigh. “You were too late. The boy was already running a high fever. Being exposed to that sun for so long… the dehydration caused total organ failure. Not even a miracle could have saved him.” I couldn’t accept it. A gut-wrenching sob tore from my throat, raw and animalistic. Just yesterday, he was a vibrant, laughing whirlwind of a boy. How could he be gone, ripped away from me in a single, cruel day? I had only meant to use those twins as leverage against Anthony. I never, ever imagined it would cost me my Leo. In that moment, a tidal wave of regret, so vast and powerful, consumed me whole. After making the final arrangements for my son, I was a ghost. Grief had hollowed me out, stealing my appetite, my strength, my will to move. I lay in bed, day after day, adrift in a sea of sorrow. It was three days before Anthony came home. He found me in bed and marched to my side, his expression a cold, hard slab of stone. “Because of what you did, my twins were traumatized. They’ve had a fever for three straight days, waking up from nightmares every night! They’re only three, Elara. How could you subject them to such terror?” Three? My Leo was only five. What about the terror he endured? A bitter fury rose in my throat, but my voice was a shredded ruin. I could only glare at him, my silence a testament to my hate. “Fortunately, Cathy is a forgiving woman. She’s willing to let this go. But you can’t be so reckless and jealous next time,” he said, his tone softening slightly as he placed a gift-wrapped box on the nightstand. “Leo’s at school, I assume? Tying him up like that… it was a last resort. I was just trying to scare you, not hurt him. He’s a tough little guy; he can handle it.” He paused. “This is a present for him. Give it to him when he gets home from kindergarten. I have to get back to Cathy and the kids, so I can’t stay.” And with that, he turned and walked out. I stared at the brightly colored box, a sharp, physical pain blooming in my chest, stealing my breath. He didn’t know. He didn’t know that my Leo was never coming home again. With a surge of venomous energy, I pushed myself up. A guttural scream escaped my lips as I swiped the gift off the table, sending it crashing to the floor, a meaningless, hollow offering. 2 A week passed before I could claw my way out of the suffocating fog of grief. I started eating a little, walking around the house like a specter in my own home. I made my way downstairs, only to be met with a sight that stopped my heart. Anthony, who hadn’t been home all week, was walking through the front door with Cathy and her twins in tow. He met my furious gaze without flinching and cut straight to the point. “Well, the secret’s out, so there’s no point in hiding them anymore. To make things easier, I’ve decided to move Cathy and the children in with us. I expect you and Leo to coexist peacefully with them. It’s time I enjoyed the pleasures of having all my children under one roof.” His shamelessness was so profound it was almost comical. My son was dead, his body barely cold, and this man was talking about domestic bliss with his mistress and her illegitimate children. A wave of white-hot anger washed over me, extinguishing the last embers of my love, leaving only the cold ash of disappointment. “Anthony,” I said, my voice raspy. “Let’s get a divorce.” His face darkened instantly. “Elara, what is this now? Another one of your tantrums?” A tantrum? He had the nerve. It was true, when I first found out about his other family, I had lost my mind. I’d screamed, I’d cried, I’d thrown things. I couldn’t stomach the fact that the man who had sworn his undying love for me had betrayed me within two years of our wedding. I had been hysterical, demanding he cut ties with Cathy, demanding he send her and her bastard children away. I had even hidden the twins. And for that, my own son had paid the ultimate price. Never again. I would never cause a scene again. I cleared my ravaged throat and spoke, my heart a dead weight in my chest. “Anthony, you and Cathy have a family now. I’ll step aside. I’ll make it easy for you.” “Elara!” he thundered, a storm cloud gathering in his eyes. “Every man I know with my kind of money has a second family. I’m only providing for two households. Is it really necessary to make such a scene?” He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low, menacing growl. “And even with Cathy here, nothing changes for you and Leo. You will always be my wife. Leo will always be my firstborn son, the heir to the Johnson fortune. No one can ever touch your position. You should be grateful.” Grateful? A bitter, hysterical laugh escaped my lips, followed by a stream of hot tears. My mind flashed back to the beginning. We’d met in college. He’d pursued me relentlessly for three years, wearing down my defenses with grand gestures and promises whispered like prayers. On the day he proposed, he had sworn on his life that he would love only me, that he would never betray me. Now, here we were. His vows were dust, our love a forgotten memory. He had even orchestrated the death of our child. And he wanted me to be grateful? Cathy, seeing her opening, put on a show of magnanimity. “Anthony, darling, if Elara can’t accept me and the children, perhaps it’s best if we leave. I don’t want to be a source of pain for her…” “Don’t be ridiculous, Cathy,” Anthony said, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “You and the children are staying. I own this house. No one is kicking you out without my permission.” He shot a pointed look in my direction. I turned away, my stomach churning. As I did, my eyes fell on the twins. They were reaching for a set of three custom-made porcelain figures on a display cabinet. A jolt of panic shot through me. “Don’t touch those!” I shrieked. Startled, the twins dropped one of the figures. It hit the marble floor with a sickening crack, shattering into a dozen pieces. “Waaah!” Both children burst into tears. Cathy’s eyes immediately welled up. “Elara,” she choked out, her voice thick with accusation, “if you have a problem with me, I can leave. But why would you scream at the children? What have they ever done to you that you must torment them like this?” Anthony’s face was a mask of fury. He strode over and slapped me, the sound echoing in the cavernous hall. “Elara, can’t you find it in your heart to be a bigger person? They’re just children! They were born premature. You’ve already terrified them once. If your hysterics make them sick, will you be able to live with yourself?” 3 His words were just noise. I couldn’t hear them. My eyes were fixed on the shattered porcelain on the floor. I scrambled over like a madwoman, gathering the sharp fragments, not even feeling the slices as they opened up my fingers, drawing blood. Those three figures were Leo’s favorite things in the world. Anthony and I had made them for him on his third birthday. He’d said they represented us—a family of three, happy forever. Now, my son was gone. The figurine was broken. My family was shattered. The dam of my grief, the pain I had held back for days, finally burst. Cradling the broken pieces to my chest, I began to sob, a deep, hysterical wailing that came from the very core of my soul. Anthony stared at me, baffled. “What is wrong with you today, Elara? Are you possessed?” Cathy stepped forward, her voice dripping with false concern. “Oh, dear. Did something happen to upset you?” “Just leave her,” Anthony said, wrapping an arm around Cathy’s shoulders, his eyes cold and distant. “If she wants to cry, let her cry it out.” He then led his new family upstairs, leaving me alone on the floor. I stared at the bloody shards in my hands, the pain in my heart a monstrous wave pulling me under. After a long, silent moment, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Hello… I need to report a crime.”

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For every wedding anniversary, Caleb brought a woman home. His excuse? For me to “train” her. At our tenth anniversary dinner, he brought home a cocktail waitress from some downtown club, still squeezed into a tacky bunny costume. “She doesn’t have a gown. Give her your wedding dress,” he commanded, his voice casual, as if discussing the weather. “And that jewelry set I gave you last month. As for shoes… I think the ones you’re wearing will do just fine.” He leaned in, his breath hot and laced with expensive scotch. “And listen, she’s young, doesn’t know much. You’ll have to put in the effort to teach her. Especially… the things in bed.” The entire room held its breath, waiting for the inevitable drama, waiting to laugh at my expense. And, as always, I didn’t disappoint. I announced I was divorcing him. Caleb burst out laughing, a sound dripping with contempt. “Pamela, you say that every year. I’m so tired of hearing it. More tired of it than the noises you make in bed.” He smirked, raising his voice for the crowd. “If you actually have the guts to divorce me, I’ll give you a hundred million dollars.” The room erupted in another wave of laughter. The whispers were loud enough for me to hear—I was just playing hard to get, a pathetic woman who didn’t know her place. But they didn’t know. This was the hundredth time I’d said it, and it was the one and only time I meant it. Every eye in the room was on me. Even the little nightclub bunny was giggling behind her hand. “Alright, place your bets! I bet she won’t even make it to the door before she comes crawling back.” “A million says she stays!” “I’ll put thirty grand on that!” This little betting game was an anniversary tradition, as stale and rotten as our marriage. The ones who lost money on me hated me. The ones who won didn’t respect me either. I shook my head, a bitter smile on my lips, cursing myself for being so weak. It had taken me ten years to finally find the courage to leave. “I’ll bet she leaves.” A deep, unfamiliar voice cut through the noise. The crowd murmured, telling him not to throw his money away. I tried to find the source of the voice, but the figure was lost in the shadows. “Caleb,” I said, my voice steady, “I’ll have the divorce papers sent to your office. Make sure you sign them.” I had threatened divorce hundreds of times, but this was the first time I had ever mentioned the papers. Caleb straightened up, the ash from his cigarette falling onto the polished floor. I pretended not to see. I knelt, unfastened the straps of my heels, and placed them neatly at the young woman’s feet. Her name was Lexi. She was barely twenty, and painfully beautiful. “These will pinch a bit at first,” I said softly. “You’ll get used to them.” “The dress and jewelry Caleb mentioned… I’ll have Martha bring them to you.” “Before you, there were nine others. If there’s anything you don’t understand, you can ask them. They all live on the third floor. Your room is the last one on the right.” Ten years of marriage. Caleb had brought home enough women to start his own harem. Tall, short, curvy, thin, innocent, glamorous, cold, bubbly—he had collected them all. The rumor was he fancied himself a modern-day sultan, assembling his collection of concubines. Well, I was done being part of the collection. I brushed a speck of invisible dust from the shoe and stood. Barefoot, I turned and walked towards the grand entrance. I had almost reached it when a powerful hand grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “Pamela, if you’re leaving, you leave with nothing. Is there a single thing on your body that wasn’t bought with my money?” My bare feet felt like they were standing on shards of ice. My breath hitched. “You want me to strip?” Caleb raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over me, cold and clinical. “When your family went bankrupt, didn’t your mother strip you bare and shove you into my bed? How you came is how you’ll leave.” His voice dropped, laced with a cruel taunt. “Unless… you’ve changed your mind? Fine. Get on your knees and put her shoes on for her, and I’ll forgive you.” The crowd behind him howled with laughter. It was true. Shortly after Caleb and I had started dating, my family’s company had collapsed. My father, unable to face the ruin, jumped from his office window and was left in a persistent vegetative state. My mother, terrified the Vances would abandon us, drugged both me and Caleb, orchestrated a scandal, and forced his family to take responsibility. That night was the beginning of my humiliation. It was the end of the sweet, young love Caleb and I once shared. Forced to marry me, he brought another woman home on our wedding night to degrade me. He performed every imaginable act in front of me, even making me tear open the foil packet for him. I was the one who cleaned up the mess afterwards, on my hands and knees. I had lived a life of groveling servitude for ten years. I couldn’t do it anymore. “Fine. I’ll take it off.” Before anyone could react, I had unfastened my shawl. It was the dead of winter, but the hall was warm. The doorway, however, was a gateway to the biting wind. It whipped around my legs, raising goosebumps on my bare arms and shoulders. I reached behind my back and undid the clasp of my gown. The delicate fabric slithered down, exposing the curve of my shoulder and the swell of my breast. “Oh my God!” someone gasped. A few of the more timid women covered their eyes. The men, however, watched with rapt attention. Only Caleb’s eyes darkened to an inky black, his lips pressed into a thin, hard line. The only sign of his agitation was the slight tremor in the hand that held his cigarette. The dress pooled at my feet, leaving me nearly naked before them all. The cigarette in Caleb’s hand burned down to his fingertips. He dropped it, shucked off his suit jacket in one fluid motion, and threw it over me. “Pamela, you’ve got a death wish!” he snarled. He spun on the crowd. “All of you, close your eyes! If I hear one word about what you saw here tonight, you won’t live to see tomorrow’s sunrise! Now get out! All of you, GET OUT!” Caleb rarely lost his temper like this, especially not in public. The guests, all longtime acquaintances, knew better than to linger. They scurried out, and even the nine “concubines” quietly retreated upstairs. Only Lexi remained, frozen in place. “Are you satisfied now, Caleb?” I asked, tilting my head back to look at him, my gaze defiant. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I had cried too many tears for him. I wouldn’t shed another. “Can I go now?” “Don’t you dare pull these pathetic little tricks on me, Pamela,” he hissed, his disbelief still palpable. “It’s disgusting. Don’t you dare bring shame upon the Vance name.” I took a deep breath. “Caleb. This time, I really mean it. I want a divorce.” He looked at me as if I’d just told the world’s most hilarious joke. He grabbed the back of my neck, forcing my head down. “You dare divorce me? Can you afford your father’s hospital bills? Can you pay for your mother’s daily shopping sprees?” His voice was venomous. “Pamela, the first person to get on her knees and beg me not to divorce you will be your own mother.” His hatred for me and my mother was a raw, open wound. He hated her for the drugs, and he hated me for my inaction. “Even if your mother hadn’t drugged us, I would have married you! I would have helped you! But you had to use the one method I despise most!” he spat. “You, Pamela! You’re the one who destroyed what we had!” I had explained it a thousand times, but he would never believe me. Seeing my silence, his frown deepened. He dragged me over to Lexi, forced me to my knees, and pushed my head down. “Put her shoes on. You’ve been doing this for ten years. You should be an expert by now.” For a decade, I had not only cared for Caleb but also waited on his nine mistresses. I had done things—forced and voluntary—that made me despise myself. But now, all I wanted was for it to end. So, once again, I obeyed. I put the shoes on the girl’s feet. Perhaps my compliance bored him. With a grunt of frustration, he hauled me to his bedroom and, in front of me, began to undress Lexi. I had seen this scene countless times. Sometimes, he even made me participate, to “instruct” them. Just as I had done so many times before, I tore open a condom wrapper and held it out. This time, he shoved my hand away. “Not needed tonight.”

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1 To protect me, my sister defied the rules of our novel’s world. Instead of showering her affection on the story’s protagonist, the fake young master, she cared for me, the real one. Every time she was kind to me, the System shocked her with an electric current. She told me she would rather be electrocuted to death than stop loving her real brother. And yet, the night before I was due to give the valedictorian speech at graduation, I was abducted. Dragged to an abandoned construction site, I was defiled by a gang of thugs, my limbs were broken, and my tongue was cut from my mouth. In that abyss of despair, I somehow connected to my sister’s System. 【Host, you sent a live location to the gang, ordering them to torture your brother until he was crippled. Do you not intend to call them off?】 My sister’s voice, cold as jade, echoed in my mind. “I can’t. This part of the plot has to happen. We can’t let Julian go through it, can we?” “Besides, Noah is the protagonist of a ‘doted-on-hero’ story. He’s destined to survive. No matter how much he suffers, he’ll recover completely. This is just making use of his plot armor.” “When it’s all over, I’ll be twice as good to him to make up for it.” My heart died. I stopped fighting death. — “As expected of the top scholar. You’re tougher than most.” “We’ve had more than twenty guys go at him, and he’s still hanging on…” In the dim, filthy cell, the instruments of my torture lay scattered around me, slick with my blood and flesh, piled into a small mountain. A hulking man grabbed my chin, forcing my head up. He saw my lips, bitten raw from the pain, and burst into laughter. “Well, well. After being so thoroughly ‘cared for’ by the boys, our little Master Noah is now tender enough to bruise at a touch.” His thumb smeared across my lips before he ripped the filthy rag from my mouth. “Speaking of which, we’ve tasted everything else, but I haven’t had a go at this mouth yet.” “I wonder if it’s any different from the ones you pay for downtown?” Before I could curse him, another man chimed in with a suggestion. “Half a tongue tastes even better. More… exotic.” I saw their eyes fix on me, and I tried to shrink back in terror. The next second, a hand tangled in my hair, slamming my head against the ground. A flash of cold steel. I screamed, clamping a hand over my mouth as blood gushed between my fingers. The pain was a blinding, stabbing agony that made me want to smash my head against the wall just to make it stop. Through a hazy fog, someone yanked my hair again… And in that moment, on the brink of death, I heard a conversation. A sterile, electronic voice: 【Celeste, your brother Noah is at his breaking point. Any more torment and he will suffer a fatal mental collapse! You must stop this!】 I thought I was hallucinating, that death was playing tricks on my mind. “No.” The voice that answered was unmistakably my sister’s. She was the only person in our family who had ever been kind to me, but now her tone was glacial. “Noah is the protagonist of fate. He can’t die this easily.” “Continue. Tell them not to hold back. Only when his suffering mirrors what Julian endured in the original timeline can we successfully cheat fate… Only then can Julian live a good life.” The System seemed to hesitate. My sister, sensing its doubt, added confidently, “He’s been abused since he was a child. This is nothing he can’t handle… It’s just making use of a resource.” 【When you insisted on binding Noah as the target for this mission, you set this course. Now, we can only see it through.】 The mechanical voice sighed with resignation. My sister laughed. “What’s the rush? He won’t die anyway. Better to get it all over with at once than to drag it out…” Her voice softened, but her words were daggers in my heart. “He’s the only one in this world who can blind the eyes of fate. It’s not what I want. But only by having him endure Julian’s fated death can our family stay whole and live happily ever after.” “After all, Julian is my brother too. I can’t just stand by and watch him be humiliated and killed, can I?” “…He deserves a life of peace and security. This is the only way.” I coughed, a spray of dark blood leaving my lips. The pain was so intense my heart felt like it had been burned to ash. So that’s all I was. A tool for my sister to use, a substitute to suffer in place of someone else. “Tch, what a buzzkill. His face is all covered in blood…” More brutes entered the room. They laid me flat on an iron table, their hands roaming freely. Two needles pierced my chest, sharp and brutal. “Man, if the valedictorian shows up to his speech tomorrow with these, haha! If anyone sees them, they’ll all know what a little slut he is.” “Take more pictures. We could sell them as a collection.” One of the men set up a high-definition camera, pointing it directly at my face. Amidst waves of agonizing pain, I was torn open. Again. And again. It was a nightmare, a torment beyond human endurance. And the architect of it all was the one person who had been my reason for living, my pillar in this cruel world—my own sister, Celeste. “Hey, scholar,” one of the men whispered, his lips against my ear. “Ever wonder how we found you at the school, no matter where you hid?” He bit down. Hard. Through the searing pain, I remembered the endless nightmares of footsteps and shadows that had haunted me. I remembered the conversation I had just overheard. The truth settled in my heart like a stone. And with it, a deeper, more profound despair. “Since you’ve been such a good boy for us, I’ll be merciful and tell you—” “It was that little ‘family tracking beacon’ your parents bonded you with at the welcome-home dinner.” I began to tremble uncontrollably. A cold, desolate sorrow washed over me. I had never imagined that my cries for help to my family would be the very thing that led to my betrayal. They were my blood, my kin, yet they treated me like an enemy. Even the one exception, my sister… 【Warning! Protagonist Noah’s life signs are critically low! The world is at risk of collapse!】 The System’s alarm blared in my mind. A tiny spark of hope flickered within me. Surely, she wouldn’t drag the entire world down with her just to save Julian? My sister’s voice came, firm and cold. “Shut up, System. There’s only one part left, the castration. Then it will all be over.” “How can we stop at such a critical moment?” “If we stop now, Julian will have to endure it, and it will kill him! Our family won’t be whole anymore… All my efforts will have been for nothing. I absolutely will not allow that!” The mechanical voice sounded shocked. 【Enough! What does Julian’s fate have to do with him?】 【How long has he even been back in this family? And you’ve already flayed him alive!】 【If anyone owes a debt here, it is all of you who owe it to him! Why are you torturing the victim?】 My sister’s voice cracked with anguish, her words becoming a hysterical, distorted scream. “You think I don’t know that?!” “But he’s the only one who can survive a certain-death scenario!” “We’ve come this far! Better for him to be broken than for Julian to die! And Noah is the protagonist! He won’t die!” “I am preserving the integrity of my family, don’t you understand?!” She finished her tirade and wiped her face, her voice returning to a chilling calm. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him die.” “After he has taken Julian’s place, I’ll have someone call an ambulance. Even if he needs a catheter for the rest of his life, even if he’s a broken man, I will take care of him.” But would a life like that even be living? My heart was a frozen wasteland. I closed my eyes, shutting out the world, shutting out the pain they were inflicting on my body. It’s no use. No one cares about me. It wouldn’t be a loss if I died. I relinquished my will to live, letting my soul plummet into the abyss.

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1 I wanted to buy my husband a Tang dynasty Sancai horse for our anniversary—his favorite. But out of nowhere, a mysterious bidder emerged, invoked the “Jade Gavel,” and snatched the porcelain horse right out from under me. As I was leaving, a notification popped up on my phone: a charge to my husband’s supplementary credit card, from this very auction house, for the exact price of the Sancai horse. In a panic, I called the bank and had the card frozen. At the collection counter, a stunningly beautiful woman was forced to flee in a storm of ridicule. Two weeks later, my husband, Ethan, and I were on vacation abroad. The moment we stepped off the plane, I was drugged. I woke up in an iron cage. The host, in broken English, announced to the crowd, “Today, we auction this woman. Highest bidder takes all!” And there, in the audience, sat Ethan, his eyes dark and vicious. “Wren, you love stealing the show, don’t you? You love snatching someone else’s moment. Well, tonight, you can have all the spotlight you want.” A wave of terror washed over me as I stared at the sea of faces below. My scalp prickled with fear. They were all holding copies of my full-body medical scan, appraising me like livestock. “Look at this one. Well-maintained. Every organ is in perfect health. She’d be a prime catch, whether you take her home whole or part her out for a sick relative.” “I have to say, I’m surprised. Ethan Vance, of all people. Willing to put a woman like this on the block. We can’t let an opportunity like this pass us by.” “I heard she’s his wife. He’s got a new piece, you know. Who wants old goods when you have something fresh?” I followed their knowing glances and saw him. Ethan. Sitting in the middle of the crowd. A chill, deeper than any I had ever known, seeped into my bones. My body, bound to the iron bars of the cage, thrashed against the metal, the clanging sound echoing my frantic heartbeat. My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. Just yesterday, we were planning this trip, wrapped in each other’s arms, whispering sweet nothings. And now, the “friend” he said was bidding on the Sancai horse for him, a woman named Isla, was curled up in his lap, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. “Ethan, why are you doing this to me?” My voice was a raw, broken thing, lost in a storm of sobs. He leaned back in his chair, a lazy, cruel smile on his face. “My wife is far too elegant, too magnificent, to be kept hidden away for my eyes only. Good things should be shared, don’t you think?” The crowd roared with approval, urging the host to begin. Powerful men from all over the world, a veritable rogue’s gallery, were here. They waved their black bidding paddles in the air, shouting out which parts of me they wanted—my heart, my kidneys. Ethan leaned over and kissed Isla, then rose and walked to the stage. He kicked the cage, the force of the blow splitting my lip. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. “Wren, as the organizer of this little event, I’m going to do you a special favor. I’m giving you the right to bid on yourself. You can have your moment in the spotlight. You can feel for yourself the humiliation you put my Isla through.” His handsome face was a mask of pure, mocking malice. The murderous glint in his eyes told me he had no intention of letting me leave this auction house alive. “Go on,” he taunted. “Invoke the Jade Gavel.” The room erupted in laughter. “The Jade Gavel? How? Didn’t Mr. Vance register all your joint assets under his name when he came in? Unless he’s willing to foot the bill, Mrs. Vance doesn’t have a penny to her name.” Ethan feigned surprise. “Oh, dear. I completely forgot. The same account can only be registered to one person. What a shame, darling. And I have to buy Isla a new necklace tonight. My hands are tied.” My eyes widened in disbelief. I couldn’t fathom that these words were coming from the man I had loved for eight years. “You tricked me into coming here, you drugged and kidnapped me, you organized this entire black market auction… just to sell me off?” “Why, Ethan? Because I froze the card when Isla invoked the Jade Gavel?” He stared at me, his eyes cold, savoring my pain. “Of course. Do you have any idea how helpless she felt that day? Humiliated in front of all those people. She endured it. And so can you.” He gave me no chance to reply. He turned and walked off the stage, tossing one last, chilling sentence over his shoulder. “Put her in shackles and seat her in the front row. The best way to break someone is to make them watch their own descent into hell, powerless to stop it.” From the audience, Isla blew me a mocking kiss. “Don’t worry, Wren. I won’t be bidding against you tonight.” 2 The auction hall was a cacophony of cruel cheers. Someone whistled. “Is Mr. Vance really going to let his beautiful wife get fucked to death by strangers? Hahaha…” Ethan simply raised an eyebrow, his expression indifferent. “If my wife doesn’t like it, she can always invoke the Jade Gavel. If she can’t, well, that’s her choice. I’m a very democratic man.” The crowd murmured in agreement. “That’s right. I heard she invoked it herself when she was bidding on that Sancai horse, but Mrs. Vance shut her down. She must have the resources. We’ll get to see her in action tonight.” Amid the noise, the auction bell rang. I was led from the cage like a dog on a chain and shackled to a chair in the front row, directly in front of a massive screen. My medical report and a series of intimate photos scrolled across the screen, and a wave of humiliation, so powerful it threatened to drown me, washed over me. My hands, bound together, trembled. My mind raced. Ethan had registered all our assets under his name. By the rules of this black market, an account couldn’t be used by two people. I didn’t have a hundred dollars to my name, let alone enough to invoke the Jade Gavel. He had planned this perfectly. He knew my financial situation down to the last cent. If even one part of my body was sold, my life would be over. I was a lamb led to the slaughter, bound and helpless. We had been married for eight years. I had been with him when he was a nobody, and I had stood by him as he clawed his way to the top of the corporate world. I had never complained about the hardships. When he finally made it, I had happily stepped back, content to be the supportive wife behind the successful man. And now, to appease his mistress, he was going to send me to hell. The chatter around me was a relentless assault of lewd, disgusting comments. “A woman trained in bed by a man like Vance… she must be incredible. I’m going to buy her whole and find out for myself.” “No way. I’ve had my eye on her feet. I’m going to have them cut off and preserved as a work of art. The thought of it… it’s enough to make me come right now. You can’t have them.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, using every ounce of my willpower to remain upright. Finally, the auctioneer took the stage and announced the start of the bidding. I shot to my feet, the chains rattling. “Wait. I need to wash my face.” Ethan turned to me slowly, his eyes filled with a dark, unreadable mockery. “Wren, don’t even think about escaping. The security here is airtight. Not even a fly can get out. Save your energy.” I ignored the searing pain in my body and stared into his cold, black eyes. “If not even a fly can get out, then what’s the harm in letting me wash my face? Or are you too stingy to even grant me that small mercy?” The room fell silent, all eyes on us. It was a silent, bitter war. A few of the men he knew well grew impatient. “Don’t waste our time, Vance. We’re all waiting. Let’s just get on with it.” “Yeah, what’s the hold-up? I’ve got a hot tub waiting for me and the missus back home.” Finally, under the expectant gaze of the crowd, Ethan’s face hardened, his eyes turning a deep, stormy black. “All of you, shut your mouths.” 3 The host had spoken. The room fell silent. An attendant unlocked my shackles and replaced them with handcuffs. I walked, head held high, to a washbasin outside the main hall. The moment the cold water touched my wounded hands, the tension that had held me together snapped. I collapsed beside the basin, the tears I had held back for so long finally falling. My phone was still in my pocket, but my account had been completely emptied. Balance: $0.00. If I was sold tonight, I couldn’t even imagine the horrors that awaited me. I could be passed from man to man, used and abused, and then, when they were done with me, dismembered and sold for parts, never finding peace even in death. And my mother, who was in a coma in a hospital back in the States after a car accident, would be left to die a slow, hopeless death as her medical bills went unpaid. I had no way out. Finally, I made my decision. Gritting my teeth, I opened the encrypted email on my phone and found the contact I had buried so long ago. The sound of rushing water was the only thing that broke the terrifying silence. The dilapidated building felt like a lair, hiding some great beast ready to pounce and tear me to shreds. I sent the coded message. My hand fell, limp, to my side. Five minutes later, I dragged myself back into the auction hall. As I pushed open the doors, all eyes turned to me. There was shock, mockery, and a cruel, eager anticipation. Ethan was holding a cigarette, the smoke curling around his inscrutable face. He wrapped his arm around Isla and, with a glance in my direction, said, his voice dripping with false sincerity, “Darling, I love you. And anyone who dares to hurt you will pay the price.” I walked back to my seat without a word, leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the floor. “You can start now,” I said, my voice a raw, shredded whisper. A murmur went through the crowd. The auctioneer looked at Ethan for confirmation. He just sneered and nodded. “Since Wren is so eager, let’s officially begin.” The lights in the hall dimmed. The first item for auction appeared on the screen. My hands. Every inch, from my wrists to my fingertips, was displayed in high-definition, my pores visible. On my right hand, my ten-carat wedding ring was a cruel, mocking joke. It was a Shakespearean tragedy, and I was the star, my pathetic fate on display for all to see. I felt like I was already dead. Just then, Ethan, with Isla still in his arms, moved to the seat beside me. He leaned in close, his voice a low whisper in my ear. “I’m your husband, after all. And Isla is a generous woman. If you apologize to her and agree to a divorce where you get nothing, I’ll help you out. This one time.” A cold smile touched my lips. So, he didn’t just want my life. He wanted to swallow our shared assets whole, then play the victim of a cheating wife as he paraded his mistress down the aisle. I said nothing. My silence was my answer. The bidding began. “For the hands of Ms. Wren Davis, we’ll start at five hundred thousand dollars. Bidding increments of one hundred thousand.” The paddles shot up instantly. In seconds, the price had soared to two million. Ethan’s voice was a persistent poison in my ear. “Think about it, darling. Soon it will be too late.” The bidders were now crowding around me, their eyes greedy, fixed on my clenched fists, waiting for the final gavel. And then, I, who had been silent for so long, slowly raised my hand. My eyes were filled with a desperate, all-or-nothing resolve. “I invoke the Jade Gavel,” I said, my voice ringing with a newfound strength.

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1 “Stella, are you sure about this? You want to give up the surgery?” On the other end of the line, my doctor’s voice was laced with disbelief. He probably couldn’t fathom why I would refuse a kidney I had waited over two years to find. “You need to think this through,” he urged. “Your condition is in its final stages. Without a transplant, you don’t have much time left…” “Yes. I know.” I hung up and looked down at the legal document in my hand. Caleb Sterling’s name was printed in sharp, clear ink. My boyfriend of seven years. Now, with a single lawsuit, he was dragging me to court, demanding I repay every cent he had ever spent on me during our relationship. I let out a slow, shaky breath and knocked on the door of the Sterling family mansion. The woman who opened it was Caleb’s new girlfriend, Seraphina, draped in a luxurious designer dress, her makeup flawless. “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.” Her voice was a purr of amusement. She turned her head and called out, “Honey, you have to see who’s here.” Seeing Caleb again felt like staring across a lifetime. He leaned against the doorframe, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, his handsome, familiar face now a mask of cool detachment. His cold gaze landed on me. “Did you bring the money?” I pulled a bank card from my purse and held it out. Seraphina snatched it from my hand, toying with it as her eyes, sharp and provocative, met mine. “Thirty thousand dollars… I suppose it’s not even enough for a day at the spa for me, but at least,” she smirked, “we can get a new wardrobe for my little Prince.” She then called over a Schnauzer. Even the dog was decked out in a top-tier designer brand. Caleb wrapped an arm around Seraphina’s waist, his voice a low, doting murmur. “Only thirty thousand for Prince’s clothes? That’s not nearly enough. I’ll transfer you another half a million later. Go pick out something really nice for him.” Prince, of course, was the dog. Watching them, so wrapped up in each other, I dug my nails into my palms. For some reason, the Schnauzer suddenly bared its teeth at me, letting out a low growl. I flinched and took two steps back. Seraphina saw this and bent down to stroke the dog’s head, a saccharine smile on her face as she looked at me. “Oh, I am so sorry,” she cooed. “My little Prince has never seen a poor person before. It must be a shock to his system. Ms. Knight, next time you decide to visit, do try to wear something a little more presentable. Then my puppy won’t feel the need to bite you.” A few of the Sterling family’s maids, standing nearby, covered their mouths to stifle their giggles. I looked down at my own clothes. A faded, washed-out outfit, the pocket of my shirt crudely mended with a patch. Caleb let out a short, contemptuous snort, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “Stella Knight,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “You took so much money from my mother. Don’t tell me you’ve already squandered it all.” “Or,” he added, his eyes narrowing, “are you deliberately dressing like this to play the victim card?” 2 I said nothing, my hands twisting the hem of my shirt. “I’ve paid you back,” I finally managed. “From now on, we owe each other nothing.” I just wanted to escape, but Seraphina’s voice stopped me. “Wait.” She walked toward me, pulled a single dollar coin from her purse, and tossed it at my feet. “Thank you for the entertainment today,” she said, an eyebrow arched in contempt. “Here’s a buck for your trouble.” I looked at the coin on the ground, a small, shining monument to my humiliation. Then I looked at Caleb, still leaning in the doorway, smoking, watching me with that same dismissive look in his eyes. “Thank you for the kind offer, Ms. Dubois,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “But I think you should keep it.” With that, I turned and fled. I returned to my shoebox apartment, a sub-level room no bigger than a parking space. The bed was just a few feet from the toilet. It was dank and windowless, a concrete tomb. Yet, it gave me a strange sense of security. I never thought I would see Caleb again. I certainly never imagined it would be like this. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, which was covered in a dense mosaic of photographs. Hot tears traced paths from the corners of my eyes. One hundred and two photos. Every single picture we had taken in our seven years together. He wasn’t that boy in a school uniform anymore, the one who shouted to the world, “I will only ever love Stella Knight!” Now, he was the heir to an unimaginable fortune, the future CEO of the Sterling Corporation, and Seraphina Dubois’s fiancé. We were worlds apart. I took a deep breath, pulled down every single photo, and stuffed them into a dusty old box. But when I opened the box, the first thing I saw was a painting. A girl in a pristine white wedding dress, her smile radiant. Caleb had painted it himself. He had told me the girl in the painting was me, and that one day, he would be the one to put that dress on me. A wave of bitter sadness washed over me. I traced the faded lines of the painting. I wonder, I thought, if, in a way, this counts as having married him? I let out a dry, self-mocking laugh and closed the box. Then I called my boss. “Mr. Wallace, I’ll take the Apex Group project.” Last week, Mr. Wallace had suddenly assigned the Apex project to me. Everyone in the office knew that landing the Apex account wasn’t about experience or skill. There were unspoken rules, and everyone knew what they were. But right now, all I wanted was to live. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses,” Mr. Wallace said on the phone, his voice slick. “Look at you, a pretty face, you’re a smart girl. Sometimes, you just have to be… flexible.” He sent me an address. A private room at a high-end club. “Be there tonight. And wear something nice.” “Okay,” I whispered, and hung up. When I pushed open the door to the private lounge, the first person I saw was Caleb, sitting with a few of his old friends. The project manager from Apex Group, a man named Harrison, grinned at me. “You must be the little lady from my nine o’clock,” he said, his small, puffy eyes raking over my body with a look so vulgar it made my skin crawl. He patted his thigh. “Come on, sit right here. We’ll have a good, long talk about this project.” Beside him, Caleb’s eyes were arctic. He stubbed out his cigarette, his voice a low, mocking drawl. “I didn’t realize you were scraping the bottom of the barrel these days, Harrison.” 3 Hearing this, Harrison turned to Caleb, bewildered, and rubbed his bald head. “She doesn’t look half-bad to me.” Caleb sneered, his eyes lingering on my simple, thin dress. “True. It’s amazing what some women will do for money, isn’t it? No standards, no self-respect.” My fingers clenched into fists as the others in the room started pointing and whispering. I forced myself to remain calm, pulling the project proposal from my bag and holding it out to Harrison. “Mr. Harrison, this is the partnership agreement. If you’d like to take a look…” Before I could finish, Harrison grabbed me, pulling me into his lap. His rough hand started moving up my thigh. A wave of nausea washed over me. But Caleb’s friends were egging him on. “What are you waiting for, Harrison? Kiss her!” I clutched the hem of my dress, my eyes darting to Caleb. For a split second, a pathetic, desperate part of me still hoped he would help me. But he just stood up, his face a blank mask. He picked up a glass of whiskey from the table and poured it directly over my head. I gasped, shivering as the cold liquid soaked through my clothes. He loomed over me, his voice a low, cruel whisper. “This is no fun.” He pushed a fruit platter in front of me. It was filled with mangoes. My heart seized. I stared at him in disbelief. Caleb reached into his suit jacket, pulled out a credit card, and tossed it on the floor. “There’s fifty thousand dollars on that card,” he said. “Eat all of these mangoes, and the money is yours.” I stared at the card on the grimy floor, a bitter smile twisting my lips. We were together for seven years. He couldn’t possibly not know that I’m deathly allergic to mangoes. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes fixed on me. Tears welled in my eyes. After a long, silent moment, I spoke. “If I eat all of these… the money… I don’t have to pay it back, right?” In that moment, my will to live was absolute. I was only twenty-six. I didn’t want to die. Caleb’s brow furrowed, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. I reached for a slice of mango and shoved it into my mouth. I ate ravenously, gulping down piece after piece. Even as my body started to heave and an angry red rash began to bloom across my skin, I didn’t stop. Caleb’s friends, all sons of Westport’s elite, knew the history between us. Two years ago, when the Sterling Corporation went bankrupt, Caleb was hounded by creditors to the point of suicide. That was when I had left him, seemingly without a second thought. He had searched for me like a madman, sinking into a deep depression. Now that the Sterlings were back on top, of course they wouldn’t let me off easy. They whistled and catcalled, filming me with their phones. “Pathetic,” Caleb muttered. He suddenly grabbed my arm, his fingers exposing a faint, old tattoo on my wrist—a single letter, “C.” He froze for a second, a self-mocking sneer twisting his lips before he flung my arm away in disgust. He rolled up his own sleeve, his voice dripping with contempt. “Stella Knight, you really have no bottom line when it comes to money, do you?” “Fine. Eat all of these mangoes in the next three minutes, and I’ll forget about the debt.” The room was filled with jeers and lewd taunts. I felt like a clown in a circus, surrounded by mocking faces. I fought against the swelling in my throat and the fire on my skin, forcing a wretched smile at Caleb. “Okay. I’ll eat faster. I’ll finish them all.” As I reached for another piece, Caleb finally snapped. He let out a roar of pure rage and flipped the entire table over.

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