It was April Fool’s Day. To entertain their precious adopted daughter, my fiancé and my brother dressed me up like a human toy. The adopted girl, Chloe, ripped my dress to shreds and used a red lipstick to write “WHORE” across my face. When I didn’t react, she kicked me straight into the backyard septic tank. By the time they hauled me out, a crowd had gathered, everyone holding up their phones, recording, their laughter piercing my ears. My brother stood a hundred feet away, pinching his nose in disgust, refusing to come near me. Chloe smiled with absolute innocence. “Happy April Fool’s, Claire!” My fiancé, Liam, stepped in front of her, protecting her, his voice dismissive. “It was just a joke, Claire. Don’t be so dramatic.” He signaled to the landscapers, who turned a high-pressure power washer on me to “clean me off.” The force blasted me onto the ground. I turned purple from the freezing water, but I didn’t beg for mercy. Not once. Overnight, the video of me, stripped bare and humiliated, spread through our entire social circle. My brother, furious that I had “tarnished Chloe’s reputation,” kicked me out of the house. Liam publicly broke off our engagement. “The Sterling family cannot accept a woman with this kind of stain on her character.” I nodded to everything they said. I didn’t argue. They thought I was just acting, playing dead inside. They didn’t know that my mission deadline was only three days away. Looking at them now, I felt sick just being in the same zip code. Chapter 1 In the courtyard, my father swung his heavy leather belt, raining blows down on my back. “Shameless! Disgusting!” I didn’t explain. I just gritted my teeth and took it. Arguing only ever earned me a worse beating. I had only been back with my biological family for a few days when Chloe framed me for stealing her diamond necklace. My parents tore my room apart. My brother stripped my clothes off in front of everyone to search me. They found nothing. I thought I might get an apology. Instead, my brother backhanded me so hard he knocked a tooth loose. “You must have sold Chloe’s necklace! Where’s the money?!” My room was barely the size of a closet, and I didn’t even have a bank account to my name. When I tried to explain, he hit me harder, calling me an unrepentant thief. I huddled in the corner, getting kicked until I spit up blood. Suddenly, Chloe gasped. “Oh, I found it.” The diamond necklace gleamed in the sunlight, but it just made my eyes ache. I looked at my brother. There was no guilt on his face. He just said indifferently, “A little misunderstanding. Don’t take it personally.” “I’m Chloe’s brother. I trust her unconditionally.” Nathan knew he was Chloe’s brother, but he seemed to have forgotten that I was his actual blood sister. In the courtyard, my father’s belt kept falling. I was covered in bloody welts. Nathan stood to the side, not saying a single word to stop him. Even though he was the one who let Chloe humiliate me, who let the video be taken, he hated me for dragging down Chloe’s social standing. He threw my meager pile of clothes out past the front gates. He told me to get out. I agreed. But my father roared, “You think you’re going anywhere?! Haven’t you embarrassed us enough!” He ordered the servants to bring the belt for “family discipline.” After beating me for two hours, my mother frowned and stopped him. “Enough. Make her bang her head on the ground ninety-nine times and write a confession letter, and we’ll drop it.” My father threw the belt down, annoyed. “You’re just spoiling her!” Spoiling? I found that hilarious. By “bang her head,” my mother meant my forehead had to hit the concrete hard enough to make a sound, or it didn’t count. The “confession letter” had to be written in my own blood. Under ten thousand words, and it wasn’t considered “sincere.” I’d have to start over. But I didn’t make a sound. I slammed my head against the floor until I passed out, then got doused with ice water to wake up and keep going. The blood confession ended up being twenty thousand words. Every single word was abject, dragging myself through the dirt. I thought it was finally enough. Chloe covered her nose, taking a step back. “Nathan, it’s not that I don’t want Claire inside, it’s just… she smells terrible.” My brother lovingly tousled her hair, then shot me a look of pure disdain. “You don’t deserve the servant’s quarters. Go sleep with Brutus.” Brutus was Chloe’s pet ten-foot Burmese python. I am deathly afraid of snakes. I remembered the day the police brought me home. Chloe had looked just as disgusted then. But back then, Nathan hadn’t sent me to the snake pit. He just kicked me into the dog crate. The Great Dane’s crate was bigger than the room I eventually got. As long as Chloe didn’t give the command, the dog wouldn’t bite me. I could almost sleep there. The snake pit? Absolutely not. I fell to my knees before my parents, begging frantically. “Mom, Dad, if I smell, I can leave. I’ll go live in the dog crate again, please, just don’t put me in the pit.” For a second, there was a flicker of hesitation on my father’s face. He started to open his mouth. Nathan violently grabbed me by the collar. “Claire, stop acting like a victim!” “If it wasn’t for you, this family wouldn’t be a laughingstock! You should be grateful you have a place to sleep at all!” He began dragging me toward the reptile enclosure. I looked back at my father. He looked away. The stench in the pit almost made me vomit. The snake’s tongue flicked against my face. Just as I closed my eyes in absolute despair, The cold, mechanical voice of the System rang in my head. [Host, two days remaining until the mission deadline.] Chapter 2 I suddenly calmed down. I focused on my breathing. Two more days. I couldn’t give up. Three years ago, Chloe finished dinner and suddenly had terrible stomach pains. Tears in her eyes, she accused me of poisoning her food with laxatives. Before I could even process what she was saying, Nathan pried my mouth open and forced an entire bottle of industrial laxatives down my throat. I was in so much pain I passed out on the bathroom floor. No one cared. The whole family rushed Chloe to the hospital. As I lay dying, a mechanical voice echoed in my brain. [Host life signs hitting zero. Force-binding Revenge System.] [Current Task: Survive for three years.] [Success Reward: Pain Reflection, $100 Million cash.] [Failure Penalty: Soul Obliteration.] I didn’t know what a “System” was back then. I thought it was a hallucination before death. But when I woke up in the bathroom, the pain in my stomach was gone. I believed it. The System gave me a second chance at life. I was eighteen that year. I started valuing my life, becoming silent and submissive. I thought back to those survival shows I’d seen on TV. Forcing my terror down, I remained perfectly still. The massive python slithered past me. It felt cold and terrifying. Outside the thick glass enclosure, Chloe was holding hands with Liam, smiling sweetly. “Liam, your fiancée smells, so they moved her to the snake pit.” “Do you feel bad for her?” Liam swept a casual glance over me. “Don’t talk nonsense. I don’t have a fiancée. The engagement was called off ages ago.” Even now, my heart twisted with a sharp pain. Liam was different from my family. He was my childhood sweetheart from the orphanage. When he first came to the orphanage, his leg was broken, and no one wanted to adopt him. I played the fool, actively staying behind at the orphanage to be with him. It was hard for him to move around, so I fought the other kids for his food. I stood up for him. One winter, some older kids stole his crutches to use for firewood. I jumped in to protect him. They tied me up and hung me upside down from a tree. They packed snowballs until they were hard as ice, using me for target practice. They broke my nose, and blood splashed everywhere in the snow. Liam held me, freezing, and cried all night. He said, Claire, when I grow up, I’ll protect you. I laughed dizzily, believing him. Later, when the police brought me back to my biological family, the first thing I did was help Liam find his own family. It turned out Liam was an illegitimate son, Intentionally abandoned by the powerful Sterling family. To help him get back into his family, I proposed a strategic alliance through marriage. My brother called me a slut, saying I was already obsessed with men the moment I returned. I knelt in the courtyard for seven days, without food or water, until the calluses on my knees bled, just to get that engagement contract. It wasn’t that the Sterlings were a bad match; my parents just wanted me to marry higher, to be a stepping stone for Chloe’s social climb. The day I went to the orphanage to pick Liam up, his eyes were red. He hugged me tight, swearing to the heavens, “Claire, once I have a solid footing in the Sterling family, I’m going to marry you!” But he didn’t marry me. He personally tore up our wedding contract. He threw me to Chloe to be humiliated. When did he change? Maybe it was the first time Chloe called him “Liam.” She was paler than me, cleaner than me, better at making people happy. She would hold Liam’s arm and say, “Liam, your engagement to Claire was forced, wasn’t it?” Liam never denied it. Maybe it was at some corporate dinner where I drank until my stomach bled, trying to protect him from predatory clients, collapsing on the floor, unable to get up. Liam frowned and said, “Claire, you look truly pathetic like this.” I brought up marriage. I brought up rings, a wedding. He was annoyed. He casually picked some wild grass from the roadside, wrapping a few loops around my finger. Then, he turned around and spent a fortune at an auction to buy a gemstone for Chloe, personally designing a custom ring for her. I asked him, “Liam, do you still remember the promise you made back at the orphanage?” He laughed. That laugh contained a mockery I had never seen before. “Claire, are you going to bring up the orphanage every single day? It’s annoying.” “Yes, you helped me. But you’ve used that debt to bind me for so many years. Enough is enough.” I was binding him? I knelt until my knees were ruined, went on a hunger strike, and fought with everything I had to secure his future. He said, “Claire, stop acting. You wanted this alliance because you’re the least loved daughter in this family.” “You couldn’t find a husband, so you had to cling to me?” “You’re that desperate for a man?” At that moment, I felt something inside me shatter completely. Chloe’s laughter pulled me from my memories. “Liam, don’t be so heartless. Claire was your fiancée for many years, after all.” Liam sneered, “Fiancée? A gold-digger who throws herself at men doesn’t deserve the title.” I took a deep breath and silently asked the System, “Does betrayal also get reflected as pain?” Chapter 3 [Naturally. Any pain inflicted upon the Host will be reflected back.] [The prerequisite is surviving until the final moment.] Chloe stood on her tiptoes, peering through the glass window at me, Looking slightly annoyed. “This is boring. She’s not moving at all, like a dead person.” “My Brutus doesn’t like dead things.” She pulled on Liam’s arm. “Liam, get her out of there. I want to see her cry.” A flicker of hesitation passed through Liam’s eyes, but he quickly agreed. He dragged me out. The sunlight was so bright it stung my eyes. “Chloe wants you to cry.” His voice came from above me, devoid of any warmth. I didn’t move. Chloe picked up a piece of sandpaper from somewhere and began roughly scrubbing it against my face, Smiling with a terrifying innocence. “Does it hurt, Claire? Will hurting you make you cry?” The sandpaper left bloody streaks on my face, but my tears had dried up long ago. I couldn’t shed a single drop. Liam lost his patience and kicked me hard in the shoulder. I fell backward, my head slamming against the concrete ground. My vision blurred. “Cry!” he commanded, looking down at me. When I didn’t react, he kicked me again, harder this time. The force was so great I started dry heaving. I didn’t want to die, but I couldn’t cry. Slowly, I crawled back up to my knees, groveling. Then, I banged my forehead against the floor. “I’m sorry.” Chloe was stunned for a second, then she laughed. “What is she doing? What is she apologizing for?” “Claire is just like that.” A voice came from the side. It was my brother, Nathan. I didn’t know when he had arrived. Standing a few feet away, his face wore that familiar look of utter disgust. “That’s how she survives in this family.” “Hit her, and she kneels. Scream at her, and she grovels. Like a dog.” Chloe tilted her head and sneered. “Really? Then make her bark like a dog.” Nathan looked at me, expressionless. “Did you hear him? Chloe wants you to bark.” I was kneeling on the ground. In the sunlight, the three of them looked like they were framed in gold, While I was in the shadows, smelling of filth. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. When Chloe’s smile faded, Nathan’s expression turned lethal. He grabbed a handful of my hair, ripping me upward. “Bark!” The pain in my scalp was searing. I had to stand on my tip-toes to keep my hair from being ripped out. I looked at him. He was my blood brother. Years ago, when the human trafficker grabbed him, I was the one who stood in front of him, hugging the trafficker’s leg, telling him to run. The trafficker, furious, had thrown me seven feet in the air, letting me slam against the ground. I lay in a ditch for two months, nearly dying. “Woof. Woof.” My voice was tiny, barely audible. Chloe wasn’t satisfied. “That sounds nothing like a dog. Obviously, it’s because she doesn’t have a tail.” She asked Liam to fetch her some rope. Nathan immediately understood. He tied one end around my waist and handed the other end to Chloe. “Crawl! Wherever Chloe wants you to crawl, you crawl.” I didn’t move. He kicked me in the knee, forcing me down flat on the ground. I pushed against the concrete with my hands and began to crawl. Small stones dug into my knees. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead from the pain. “Slower,” Liam said from behind. “Don’t let Chloe trip.” Chloe was laughing brightly, Pulling me as I crawled through mud puddles and up stone steps. Cold sweat slid down my face. My knees were shaking uncontrollably. As we created some distance between us and Liam and Nathan. Chloe suddenly leaned down, whispering in my ear. “Claire, I really hate you. I wish you were dead.” “Years ago, you escaped from my house and gave evidence to the police, which got my dad arrested and sentenced to life without parole.” My pupils violently contracted. That human trafficker had kept over twenty children locked in a basement. I personally witnessed him beat a young boy to death, simply because the boy wouldn’t stop crying at night. After beating him to death, he smiled at us and said, “Whoever cries next gets to go join him.” The day I escaped, he found me. He chased me with a knife for two blocks. I jumped into a river. He stood on the bank throwing rocks at me, cracking my head open. I barely survived. And my parents actually adopted his daughter. My brother treated her like royalty. My fiancé betrayed his vows for her. Chloe was still going. “I’m not afraid of you telling anyone. No one will believe you. I’m just saying this to mess with you.” Her laughter was arrogant and unhinged. I broke. I surged upward, Violently ripping the rope from her hand. I wrapped it around her neck, pulling tight. “Your father was a murderer!” My eyes burned with unshed tears. “That boy was only six years old!” Chloe just wanted to provoke me; she hadn’t expected me to fight back. Her face turned a bright, choking red. She clawed at the air frantically. “Claire!” A furious roar came from behind me. Before I could even turn around, I was violently tackled. I slammed against the ground. Liam stomped his boot directly onto my chest, Her force so strong it felt like my ribcage was about to crush. His eyes were cold and homicidal. “You’re insane!” “Her father is a human trafficker…” I opened my mouth to explain. SLAP! A hand slammed across my face. My head snapped to the side. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Nathan looked at me with pure disdain. “Before we adopted Chloe, I personally checked her background. It was clean.” “If you’re going to make something up, at least make it sound plausible.” Clean? That’s impossible. If Chloe wasn’t truly the trafficker’s daughter, she wouldn’t know about my escape, and she certainly wouldn’t know about the police testimony. “It’s not made up,” I screamed, raw with desperation. “Go check. Six years ago, the trafficker named Jiang who was convicted…” “Claire,” Liam’s boot pressed down harder on my chest. “I used to just think you had no shame. Now I see you’re as stupid as you are malicious.” Chloe rubbed her slightly reddened neck, looking incredibly pitiful. “If you guys hadn’t arrived just in time, I would have been killed by Claire.” She cried large, dramatic tears as she spoke, Making Nathan’s heart ache for her even more. He snapped. He dragged me to a far corner of the backyard. There was a large wooden board there, completely covered in rusty nails. It was an old security measure before they installed an electric fence, discarded and forgotten. Thousands of rusty nails, packed tight. “Throw her on it.” Before I could even react, Nathan and Liam picked me up and threw me onto the nail board. The moment the rusty metal pierced my flesh, my body violently convulsed, and I screamed in pure agony. Blood leaked from thousands of small puncture wounds, quickly staining the wood beneath me. I struggled, but the barbs on the rusty nails hooked into my flesh, ripping me further. The pain was so white-hot I became dizzy. “Think about what you’ve done!” Nathan spat the words at me, then he and the others walked away. I didn’t dare move. One tiny movement, and the nails would push deeper, more blood would flow. I regretted it… but it was too late. The sun set. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier. My breathing grew shallower and shallower. The System’s voice sounded distant, like it was coming from another world. [Host life signs hitting critical zero…] [Final countdown beginning…] Chapter 4 Finally, at that sound: [Congratulations, Host. Three-year period completed. Mission reward is calculating…] I smiled and closed my eyes. Three days later. My body was discovered by a neighbor. He was out walking his dog in the early morning, and the dog squeezed through a hole in the backyard fence. The family was gone. The whole family had gone on an international vacation, completely forgetting about me. After a deafening scream, the neighbor called the police. Forensics arrived, and the scene was cordoned off. Given the prominent nature of the family, the media arrived almost instantly. Within hours, the news spread, and the estate was surrounded by a wall of cameras. The coroner peeled open my eyelid. “The victim appears to be between twenty and twenty-two years old. Time of death is approximately seventy-two hours ago.” “Livor mortis is fixed. Corneas are moderately cloudy…” He paused as he looked at the wooden board beneath me, the blood now dried and black. As he lifted me, he sucked in a sharp breath. The back of my body was fused to thousands of rusty nails. On the surface, it looked like I bled to death. But the coroner didn’t list a cause yet. He carefully unzipped the filthy, stiff old jacket I was wearing. The entire scene fell into a suffocating silence. Someone turned away, unable to look. Someone openly sobbed. On that body, there wasn’t a single patch of intact skin. Whip welts, burn scars, needle punctures… layered one on top of the other, old scars covering new wounds. Some scars were already white and faded, old injuries from years ago. Some were covered in dark red scabs, fresh from the last few days. And some were completely raw and open, pus and fluid leaking from pink, exposed flesh. The lead detective went pale, his eyes turning red. “What kind of deep-seated hatred is this?!” The coroner didn’t answer. He carefully examined my wrist. There was a very deep scar there, running from the inner wrist all the way up my forearm. It looked like an ugly, oversized centipede. “A suicide attempt. At least three years ago.” The detective stared at the scar, confused. When most people try to commit suicide, they cut across the wrist. He had never seen such a bizarre, deep, longitudinal slash. It looked… almost like it was done just to bleed me out. The crime scene investigators walked out of the mansion, their faces grim. There was only one servant in the house. She was shaking, barely coherent. “I only clean inside. I never go to the backyard. I don’t know anything.” The detective led her over to identify the body. She gasped, “Isn’t this the eldest daughter? She didn’t go on the vacation?” Then, as if remembering something, she hung her head. “Mrs. Miller said the eldest daughter grew up in an orphanage, that she had no manners, and told me to ignore her…” “I don’t know anything.” She pointed down the dark hallway. “The eldest daughter’s room is at the very end.” The investigators followed the detective to the end of the hall, to a tight, wooden door. Pushing it open, a stench of mold mixed with dried blood hit them. The room was maybe fifty square feet. No windows. It contained a bare mattress, a plastic bucket, and a ragged old duffel bag in the corner. In the corner of the wall, there were several lines of dried text. Written in blood. [I didn’t steal the necklace…] [I didn’t poison the food…] … [I’m not dirty…] … [I’m your real daughter…] The detective stood before that wall for a very long time, unmoving. An investigator stepped up behind him and said softly, [We took a sample of the dried blood. It matches the victim’s DNA.] The detective nodded. He saw the corner of the duffel bag and reached down to open it. Inside was a massive stack of papers. All shapes and sizes, torn from notebooks, scraps of construction paper, old receipts. Every single inch was covered in text, packed tight, written in red ink. Flipping through them, one by one. Three years. Forty-seven distinct letters of confession. The signature at the bottom of every single one was Claire. [Written in blood,] The investigator’s voice was dry. [Preliminary tests confirm positive for hemoglobin.] The detective didn’t say anything. He understood the meaning of the ugly centipede scar on my forearm now. The case exploded. A massive alert was put out at all ports of entry for the family, waiting for them to return. A week later, the detective saw the family at the airport. The middle-aged man wore a custom-tailored designer coat and a Patek Philippe watch. The woman beside him was impeccably made up, looking arrogant. The young woman was dressed in high-end streetwear, holding nothing, While all her luggage was loaded onto the back of the young man behind her. The detective walked up to them, flashing his badge. [Arthur Miller?] The middle-aged man turned, looking him up and down. [What is it?] [Your daughter, Claire, died ten days ago.] Arthur froze. [What did you say?] His wife reacted first, her voice shrill, [Who did you say died?] [Claire,] The detective repeated, Looking at them. [The body was discovered a week ago.] Nathan stepped forward, a cruel smile on his lips. [You think you can just show up and scare us? Pathetic.] [She got scratched by a few nails and now she’s dead?] [Get out of my way before I file a complaint for impersonating a police officer.] The detective fought back his fury. [Detective Sean Evans, badge number 098230. You can verify that with dispatch.] [A few nails? There were hundreds of nails on that board!] [They were all covered in rust! Have you never heard of tetanus?! Did you not realize it could kill someone!] [But Claire didn’t die from tetanus, or from bleeding out. The autopsy report says the cause of death was systemic multi-organ failure.] [She died from long-term, systematic abuse at your hands!] The family fell silent. A flicker of hesitation crossed Nathan’s eyes, but he still didn’t fully believe it. Until the detective spoke again. [The body is at the morgue. We need you to identify her.] The mother swayed, collapsing into Arthur’s arms, her hands and feet turning to ice. Nathan’s face went white for a split second, Only Chloe, hidden behind her sunglasses, had an expression that couldn’t be read.

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He called it a matter of honor. A sacred pledge to a fallen brother-in-arms. To me, it felt like an ending. Because he had to rush his late best friend’s sister to the hospital, my fiancé canceled our rehearsal dinner—and essentially, our wedding—at the very last minute. When his call finally came through, the banquet hall was already packed with our friends and family. My older brother, Mark, grabbed my hand, his face tight with sympathy. “Elara, let’s just call it. We can’t sit here and let people pity you.” “If Grant Reed doesn’t show up, it’s his loss, not yours!” I looked up at the huge projector screen looping our engagement photos. I forced a bitter, hollow smile. “We aren’t canceling. The caterers are already plating.” “Let’s just consider this an early Thanksgiving dinner for everyone I love.” Chapter 1 Silence dropped over the hall the moment the words left my mouth. My parents looked sick. But they didn’t say a word to stop me. They just silently began ushering relatives and friends to their tables. I walked down from the stage, going from table to table, raising a glass at each one. Nobody dared to mention Grant. Nobody asked what had happened. They just raised their glasses, muttered “Happy Thanksgiving,” said their congratulations, and downed their drinks. I drank a lot. By the end, my stomach felt like it was full of battery acid. Mark held me up, his eyes rimmed with red. “Elara, was this worth it?” I set my empty glass on the table, my voice dead. “Worth has nothing to do with it.” After the last guest was ushered out, only my immediate family remained in the hotel lobby. My mom finally broke, tears streaming down her face. “How could Grant Reed do this to you?” My dad rubbed her back, sighing. “Let it go. Our daughter knows what she’s doing.” I checked my phone. No new messages. No missed calls. Grant’s call had come in that afternoon, his tone devoid of even a hint of guilt. He said Brianna Reed—his fallen buddy’s younger sister—had sudden appendicitis and needed an immediate transfer to a specialist hospital for surgery. He said he was the only family she had left. He had to escort her personally. He told me to cancel the dinner and explain it to the relatives. He sounded just like he did when issuing orders back at the base. I had only asked one question. “Acute appendicitis? Our base hospital can’t handle a routine appendectomy?” I’m a trauma surgeon at that very hospital. I could perform that surgery with my eyes closed. There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line before he left me with three words. “She’s scared, Elara.” Then, he hung up. Right. She was scared. Brianna Reed, the sister of the man who died saving Grant’s life. The girl he swore to protect forever. She was delicate. Frail. Couldn’t stand the sight of blood. She was his responsibility. Grant said that so often it felt like a mantra. So, because she was scared, our engagement dinner could be canceled. Because she was scared, my three years of waiting and devotion could be erased with a single sentence. I opened Instagram. Brianna’s story had just updated. A photo. Grant was sitting by her hospital bed, head bowed, intently peeling an apple. His profile showed absolute focus. The caption read: [With big brother here, I’m not scared anymore. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.] In the corner of the photo, I could see Grant’s phone sitting on the nightstand. The screen was bright, displaying a video game interface. He had time to play games, but not time to send me a single text. I clicked off my phone and turned to my brother. “Mark, take me home.” I spent the Thanksgiving holiday entirely alone. My parents and Mark wanted to stay with me, But I made up excuses to send them away. I didn’t want them to see me like this. I sent Grant a few texts over the next couple of days. Asked how Brianna was doing. Asked when he was coming back. No reply. On Thanksgiving night, looking out at the city lights in every window, I boiled a pot of frozen generic dumplings for one. The holiday specials on TV were loud and cheerful, But I couldn’t process any of it. Scrolling through my phone, I saw Brianna had posted again. A video this time. Grant was holding a bowl of steaming soup, feeding her spoonful by spoonful. Brianna looked pale, but her eyes were full of smiles. At the end of the video, she flashed a peace sign at the camera. [Grant cooked this soup himself. Better than anything in the world.] The comments were blowing up. “OMG, where do I find a guy like that!” “Brianna, is this your boyfriend? He’s hot!” Brianna replied to one of them. “Haha, no, he’s just the best ‘big brother’ ever.” Followed by a blushing emoji. I stared at that bowl of soup. I remembered telling Grant once That my mom made the best chicken noodle soup. He had said that once he learned how, he’d make it for me every winter. Turns out, he learned. It’s just that the first person to taste it wasn’t me. Chapter 2 I dumped the rest of the dumplings into the trash. My stomach started twisting again. When the holiday break ended, I went back to work at the hospital. Numbing surgery schedules, rounds, charting. Life seemed to be back on its sterile, organized track. Until I ran into Grant and Brianna in a hospital corridor. Grant was in civilian clothes, Carrying a thermos. Brianna was leaning heavily on his arm, smiling sweetly. She had been discharged and was back for a follow-up. When they saw me, Brianna’s smile faltered for a microsecond, Before she called out to me, sounding timid. “Hi, Dr. Vance.” Grant’s expression didn’t change. He just nodded. “Back at work, I see.” “Yeah.” I looked at him, waiting for an explanation. An apology. Something. But he gave none. He just turned to Brianna. “Wait here. I’m going to go pull your file for the check-up.” Then he walked right past me, As if I were an irrelevant stranger. Brianna walked up to me, her voice low. “Elara, please don’t be mad at Grant.” “Everything with the dinner was my fault.” “I was in so much pain that day. I really thought I was dying.” “I got scared and called him.” “I didn’t know that day was your…” Her eyes welled up with tears. “Well, you know now,” I cut her off. She froze, stunned. “Elara, I…” “Your attending physician is my mentor, Dr. Albright,” I said coldly. “He’s the head of general surgery. The best we have.” “An appendectomy is a routine, thirty-minute procedure for him.” “Your ‘fear’ wasted Grant’s time, consumed specialized hospital resources,” “And destroyed my engagement dinner.” Brianna’s face went gray. She bit her lip, and tears began to fall. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to.” Right then, Grant came back. Seeing Brianna in tears, his brow instantly furrowed into a deep scowl. He strode over, putting himself directly between Brianna and me. “Elara, what are you doing?” His voice was ice, demanding an answer. “Just stating facts.” “Facts? You terrified her into crying. That’s your idea of facts?” He looked at me, his eyes full of deep disappointment. “I thought you were above being this petty, Elara.” “Grant, you owe me an explanation,” I said, my voice trembling. “Explanation for what? I already told you, it was an emergency.” “Escorting a routine appendicitis patient is an emergency?” “She isn’t just a patient. She’s Leo’s sister!” He raised his voice, attracting attention. “I promised Leo before he bled out over there that I would treat her like my own flesh and blood!” “And what about me?” I looked at him. “Grant, what am I to you?” He went silent. Colleagues were passing by, whispering and staring at us. I felt like a side-show exhibit. Brianna tugged at his sleeve, sobbing quietly. “Grant, let’s just go. It’s all my fault.” “It has nothing to do with you,” Grant said, turning to her, his voice instantly softening. When he turned back to me, the ice was back. “Elara, Brianna isn’t fully recovered. Stop upsetting her.” “You need to apologize to her. Right now.” Apologize? Because I exposed her lie? I looked at Grant’s cold, indifferent face. He felt like a stranger. I smiled. A tight, dead thing. “Fine.” I stepped around him to face Brianna. She flinched back a little, acting terrified. I looked her dead in the eye, enunciating every word. “I am sorry.” “I should never have interrupted this touching family moment.” With that, I turned on my heel and walked away. Behind me, I heard Grant’s angry bark. “Elara! What is wrong with your attitude!” I didn’t look back. For the next week, Grant made no attempt to contact me. I didn’t reach out either. Rumors started flying around the hospital nurses’ station. Some said Grant Reed had fallen for his tragic little ward and was going to dump me. Others said I had a terrible temper and had nagged my hero fiancé right out the door. I heard it all, and I ignored it all. Chapter 3 Until one day, the nursing supervisor found me. She’s an old friend of my dad’s and has always looked out for me. She pulled me into her office and locked the door. “Elara, what is going on with you and Grant?” I shook my head. “Nothing.” “Don’t give me that,” she sighed. “I’ve heard the talk.” “Look, that Brianna Reed girl? She’s trouble. A manipulator.” “I heard from the surgical residents that Brianna didn’t even need that transfer.” “She threw a massive fit, claiming she was terrified of having a scar, and demanded Grant pull strings to get her to a private specialist in the city for minimally invasive surgery.” “And Grant actually did it. He used his military connections to twist arms and coordinate a bed that she didn’t medically require.” “Do you know how long a young soldier who actually needed emergency trauma care had to wait on a gurney in the hallway that night because we were short-staffed and coordinating her non-emergency transport?” Her words hit me like a sledgehammer. I had always told myself Grant was just blinded by Brianna’s helplessness. That he just had an overactive sense of duty because of Leo. I never imagined he would violate protocol, abuse his power, and risk lives for her whim. That was a soldier’s life. And in his eyes, it was less important than Brianna being scared of a tiny scar. “Elara,” the supervisor said gently, taking my hand. “Grant is a decorated officer, yes. But heroes are just people.” “People make mistakes. People get manipulated.” “Don’t let this ruin you.” I nodded numbly. “I understand, Auntie Sarah.” I walked out of her office and headed toward the inpatient wing. To Brianna’s room. The door wasn’t fully closed. It was cracked open an inch. I stood in the hall, ready to push it open, but stopped when I heard Brianna talking on the phone. Her voice wasn’t weak or timid at all. She sounded excited. Triumphant. “Yeah, Grant is completely wrapped around my finger!” “You should see Elara Vance. She’s such a uptight bitch, always nagging him.” “Grant’s been over her for ages, he was just too ‘honorable’ to break it off.” “The night of the dinner? Yeah, I totally faked the pain intensity.” “I called him crying, and he came running, ditched his own wedding rehearsal. It was too easy.” “Who do you think he really cares about?” “Money? Duh. I told him my mom back home needed money for ‘treatments,’ and he wired me five grand without blinking.” “He said I’m his sister now, that he’ll give me an allowance every month.” “The designer bag? Piece of cake.” “I just told him all the girls at school have one and I felt so poor and pathetic.” “He had it shipped to me the next day.” “He’s such an idiot. He believes everything I say.” “Once I officially lock him down, Elara Vance won’t even be a memory.” The afternoon sun was streaming through the hallway windows. But I felt absolutely no warmth. It felt like the blood in my veins had turned to shards of ice. It turned out, I was the idiot. Grant Reed, the man I had loved for three years, The man I thought I would grow old with. In his mind, I was just a burden he didn’t know how to drop. My faith, my love, my future. It all shattered into dust in that corridor. I didn’t go in. I just quietly turned around and walked away. I went back to my office, opened my laptop, And started typing my resignation letter and request for transfer. It took me the entire afternoon to process the paperwork. The Hospital Administrator called me in, asking why I was abruptly quitting the military track. He said I was the most talented young surgeon they had, That in a few years, I’d be running a department. I just told him, “Family matters.” He sighed, realizing my mind was made up, and didn’t push. After work, I went back to the condo Grant and I shared. My parents had bought this place for us. Every inch of the interior design was mine. Our engagement photos were still hanging on the wall. In them, he was in full dress uniform, looking commanding and honorable. I was in a white dress, smiling like a fool who had everything. I stared at that photo for a long time. Then, I started packing. Grant hadn’t given me many gifts. He was always deployed or busy; we rarely saw each other. But I had cherished every little thing he’d ever bought me. Finally, my eyes landed on the ring on my finger. It wasn’t store-bought. He had forged it himself from a piece of brass scrap from the base. He had promised that when we officially married, he’d replace it with a “real” diamond. I slipped the brass ring off my finger. I put it in a box along with the few other sentimental items I had. Finally, I wrote a note. [Grant: We’re done. I hope you and Leo’s sister have a lovely life together.] I put the note, the ring, and a legal document officially terminating our domestic partnership application into a FedEx envelope. I addressed it to his commanding officer at the base. By the time I was finished, it was dark. I dragged my suitcase to the door. I took one last look at the place I once thought would be my ‘forever.’ Then, I closed the door, locked it, and walked away without looking back. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. Not even my parents or Mark. I just sent them a group text saying I needed to disappear for a while to clear my head, and not to worry. Then, I turned off my phone, pulled my SIM card, and boarded a plane to the border. I knew an international medical relief organization out there that was desperate for trauma surgeons. I figured they needed me out there. A hell of a lot more than Grant Reed did.

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I knew the countdown to my destruction had begun. I stood there, holding the boy my sister had abandoned seven years ago. Finally, I admitted to the matriarch of the Sterling empire that I wasn’t the woman who spent that fateful, passionate night with her son, the billionaire heir Elias Sterling. Vanessa, my sister, had returned. With a cold, gentle smile, she pulled the boy into her arms, claiming the status she had discarded. She looked at me and seethed, “You’ve occupied my spot long enough, Audrey. It’s time you gave Elias and Leo back to me.” After a long, suffocating silence, I agreed. I had only one request: “Give me enough cash to disappear. Let me get fully settled abroad before you reveal the truth to Elias.” I knew Elias Sterling. He was ruthless and vindictive. If he found out I had successfully deceived him and the entire Sterling family for seven years, being broke would be the least of my worries. He’d probably make sure I was erased. 1 “Mom.” Leo stood in the doorway, wearing his prep school uniform, his backpack hanging off one shoulder. “Hey, buddy.” I forced a smile and walked over, tousling his hair. “How was second grade today? Tough day?” “I met a lady.” He looked at me, confusion swimming in his dark eyes. “She said she’s your sister. My aunt.” I froze. My hands stopped moving through his hair. It took me a long moment to find my voice. “She looks like you,” Leo continued, clutching the strap of his bag. “I tried to call her ‘Auntie,’ but she hated it. She said she wasn’t my aunt.” My fingertips began to tremble. My throat felt seared. “What else did she say, Leo?” He answered obediently, “She said to tell you that, and that you would know how to reach her.” I leaned against the wall, dizziness washing over me. Seven years ago. Vanessa had given birth to Leo in a dingy apartment, miles away from Sterling territory. She was determined to leave, refusing to even look at the baby. I had tried to stop her. “You haven’t even recovered. Why don’t we just go to the Sterlings? It’s his blood. They won’t turn him away.” Vanessa had cracked. “The baby was a secret, Audrey! You think they’ll respect me? They won’t let me through the front gate. Best case scenario, they take the kid and kick me to the curb! It’s ‘cash for the baby’ at best!” I stared at the tiny creature. “Then what about him?” She was resolute. “Keeping him only drags me down. Take him to a fire station. Safe haven. Do it.” Vanessa left that winter. She abandoned me, and she abandoned her son. I was broke that year. I was desperate. But I couldn’t leave that tiny, wrinkled thing on a doorstep. So, I picked up the baby and walked to the front gates of the massive Sterling estate. I ignored the judgmental, sneering, and disgusted looks of the security detail and house staff. I simply said, “I need to see Elias Sterling. I have his son.” It didn’t go the way Vanessa predicted. I wasn’t kicked out. I was ushered into a waiting room. Within an hour, a rushed DNA test was administered. By the time Elias arrived home, his mother, Eleanor, was holding the report with an unreadable expression. “It seems we have an heir.” Elias was tall, striking, and absolutely frigid. He only spared me one cold, indifferent glance. I lowered my eyes, terrified. I only dared this gamble based on the gritty details Vanessa had shared with me. She told me that during their encounter, Elias had demanded the lights be off. He had never seen her face clearly. But standing before a man with that much crushing presence, my confidence evaporated. I was playing a high-stakes game with no cards. Elias said nothing, but he didn’t look at the baby either. Eleanor cleared her throat. “This girl carried him for nine months. It couldn’t have been easy…” Elias interrupted, his voice clipped. “I’ll marry her.” Everyone in the room went stiff. Including me. My wild plan had only gone as far as dropping the baby off. I hadn’t thought about my own future past that afternoon. The atmosphere solidified. Elias’s gaze landed on me, casual yet terrifying. “My mistake. I’ll atone for it.” Eleanor Sterling thought about it for a few moments, then rubbed her temples. “As you wish. If your mind is made up, start planning the wedding.” In that moment, I gripped the fabric of my cheap skirt. I didn’t know Elias’s angle. He didn’t lack options for a wife. Every socialite in the city would have line up to be a stepmother to the Sterling heir. Yet, he was willing to marry a girl who had secretly had his child. Maybe he wanted a “pure” family structure? I couldn’t tell. But I was poor, desperate, and this was my chance. Furthermore, this child was Vanessa’s, making him blood family to me. I lifted my eyes, offering Elias a timid smile. “I will do my best to be a good wife. And a good mother.” And just like that, the lie began. It lasted seven years. 2 “Why are you so distracted?” Elias had his arm around my waist, pulling me close on the sofa. He cut a calm glance toward me. I snapped out of it, leaning into him, my voice soft. “Leo seems thinner lately. If he loses any more weight, he’ll be nothing but bones.” Elias frowned, his tone turning icy. “You focus too much of your energy on him.” Saying that, he tipped my chin up, kissing me hard, demanding compliance. He only let go when I was completely out of breath. He gripped my waist, pulling me onto his lap. Elias looked down at me. “You have something on your mind.” His sharp, predatory intelligence always terrified me. But I had seven years of experience in deflecting. I brought it back to the boy, speaking with concern: “Leo’s teacher called. She said he’s not socializing with the other kids. Do you think we should set up an appointment with a child psychologist? I’m worried…” “Audrey.” Elias interrupted me, his eyes black pools. “You need to find your own life.” I paused, sighing. “Okay.” I sat on his lap, watching his long fingers tap across a laptop keyboard, efficiently handling Sterling Group business. He didn’t ask again. I had escaped this time. But Vanessa was back. You can only hide for so long. The second she threw a maternity DNA test on Elias’s desk, my lie would shatter. I, the imposter, would be exposed. It had been days since Leo told me about the “aunt,” and I still hadn’t contacted Vanessa. I subconsciously twisted my fingers together, breathing in, then breathing out. A visible sigh escaped me again. Elias had reached his limit. He snapped the laptop shut, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Forget about Leo for a second. Worry about yourself.” When he pulled my sleep shirt up, my mind went sharp with panic. I tried to push him away. “Wait, Elias, hold on. I just remembered I have something to do. Seriously. I need to make Leo a snack for tomorrow…” He pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand, looking down at me with a smirk. “You talk too much, honey.” I glared at him, huffing. Elias held my waist, his voice sinking low. “Just moan. That’s the sound I like.” 3 I don’t know how much time passed. I lay on the sofa, numb and staring at the ceiling. Elias was already dressed in his bespoke suit, looking calm and expensive. He kissed my forehead. “Going to the office. Don’t wait up for dinner.” I nodded exhaustedly. My relationship with Elias Sterling was strange. We had more intimacy and closeness than a simple marriage of convenience, but there was definitely no intense, romantic love between us. He was rarely home for meals. He barely asked about Leo. It was only when he wanted me that there was any trace of warmth. But it was only a trace. Aside from that one area of our marriage, we had nothing to talk about. I drifted into a doze on the primary bedroom sofa. I woke up when I heard the front door open downstairs. Leo was home from school. I put on my slippers and went downstairs. “Leo? Why are you home so la—” My voice died in my throat. Vanessa was standing in the foyer, holding Leo’s hand. My lips moved, but it took a long moment for any sound to come out. “Vanessa.” Leo offered a bright smile. “Mom! The lady took me to the carnival after school!” I forced my lips into a smile, walking over to him, one agonizing step at a time. I crouched down and pinched his cheek. “Did Nanny and the driver follow you?” He nodded. I smiled again. “Okay, good. But next time, Nanny needs to call Mom first before you go somewhere, okay?” Leo nodded again. Vanessa spoke up, her voice freezing. “Wow. You really do look like a mother.” I didn’t answer her. Vanessa hadn’t changed much in seven years. She was wearing a trench coat and carrying a designer bag. She looked nothing like the broke, desperate girl who fled Los Angeles. She pulled Leo gently into her embrace, then looked directly at me. “You’ve occupied my spot long enough, Audrey. It’s time you gave Elias and Leo back to me.” Her voice wasn’t loud, so Leo didn’t sense anything was wrong. He just blinked in confusion. “What spot?” I went stiff, my fists clenching involuntarily. Vanessa lowered her voice, speaking so only I could hear. “We are sisters, so I won’t sue you for impersonating me and taking my place for this long. But if you try to fight me, you won’t win.” Saying that, she squeezed Leo’s shoulder and smiled down at him. “Leo.” My voice sounded hoarse and dry. “Did you have fun today?” Leo’s personality resembled Elias’s; he wasn’t a cheerful kid. But he offered a rare grin, looking up at Vanessa. “Yeah.” “Then…” I forced the words out. “The parent-teacher conference the day after tomorrow. If both Vanessa and I can go, who would you want to come?” He paused, then hesitantly took hold of Vanessa’s hand. I was silent for a long time. Then I patted his back. “Go to your room and do your homework, okay?” After Leo left. Vanessa and I stared at each other for a long time. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ll leave. Give me a sum of money. Let me get completely settled abroad before you reveal the truth.” Knowing Elias Sterling’s vindictive nature, if he found out I had lied to him for seven years… He’d probably ruin me. Vanessa frowned. “How much?” “I raised your son for you this entire time.” I took a step back. “One million.” She sneered. “And here I was, almost complimenting you. Selling your nephew for cash? Classy.” I just looked at her. After a few minutes of silence, she said, “Fine. But I only have two hundred thousand available right now. That’s enough to keep you alive for a while. Once the dust settles and I have access to Sterling assets, I’ll send you the rest.” I whispered, “Deal.” 4 That evening. Elias texted me: Won’t be home tonight. Okay, hubbie. I replied instantly. Him: ? I stared at the question mark. In the past, to maintain my role as the perfect, adoring wife, I would have replied with endless叮嘱 (mothering). Like: Don’t work too hard, Elias. I’ll be waiting up for you. Will you be home tomorrow? That sort of thing. But roles are just roles. Since my time as Mrs. Sterling was up, I couldn’t be bothered to act anymore. I stretched, then started packing. As I packed, I realized I didn’t want to leave anything behind. The designer dresses, the necklaces, the bags… they were all my precious babies. I ordered the staff to bring up five huge suitcases. I got lost in the packing. So lost that I didn’t notice Elias opening the primary bedroom door, watching me with an expressionless face, leaning against the doorframe. It was only after all five huge suitcases were zipped shut that I stretched my sore back. And locked eyes with Elias, whose gaze was deeper than an abyss. I went stiff. “Hi… Elias. Hubbie. Good evening… I thought you weren’t coming home?” A corner of his mouth twitched, and he spoke with a terrifying gentleness. “If I didn’t come home, where were you planning on going?” “Oh,” I forced a cheerful laugh. “I’ve been so worried about Leo lately, I haven’t been sleeping well. I decided to take a little vacation to clear my head…” Elias stared at me for a long moment, then surprisingly, didn’t push me. He just nodded. “Fine.” I bit my lip. “While I’m gone, spend more time with Leo. He’s quiet, and you two barely talk. Also, make sure the chef makes more steak; he’s a growing boy…” “Audrey,” Elias’s voice carried a hint of impatience. “Even if you are gone, nobody in the Sterling family is going to mistreat him.” I was stunned. “…Right.” Actually, I still wanted to say more. Like how happy I had been in the Sterling family for these seven years. Eleanor hadn’t been a difficult mother-in-law, and Leo was actually a good kid. And also. I didn’t want to leave Elias Sterling. But the woman who had spent that night with Elias Sterling seven years ago wasn’t me, and I wasn’t the boy’s biological mother. I had lived as Mrs. Sterling, enjoying the billionaire lifestyle for all these years. That should be enough. It’s just… why was I so sad? Elias turned, his voice flat. “Stay out as long as you need. Don’t worry about rushing back.” He walked toward his home office, not casting a single glance back. My fingers curled. I whispered, “Okay.”

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When we both fell into the water, Arthur chose to save me first. Because my sister was forever lost to that summer river. Afterward, both our families were drowning in grief and guilt. To repay the debt, my family took care of Arthur. And naturally, he and I ended up getting married. When we were fifty-eight, we went back to our hometown to pay respects to my sister. We stood by the very river that had swallowed her. Arthur suddenly pushed me away and jumped in. His dying words to me were: “Summer, if there is a next life, I will never save you.” It turned out that for all those years, he had never let go of the past. 1 Arthur violently shoved me away. My head slammed against the concrete bridge pier with a sickening crack. As my vision blurred, his last words echoed relentlessly in my mind. “Summer, if there is a next life, I will never save you…” Before I closed my eyes, I thought, If there is a next life, that would be for the best. When I opened my eyes again, the agonizing pain in my body had suddenly morphed into the suffocating panic of drowning. I kicked hard toward the surface, and immediately saw the silhouette of eighteen-year-old Arthur swimming desperately toward my sister. I froze for a split second, then swam after him. After the accident in my past life, I had taken swimming lessons and learned how to swim like a pro. Through hundreds of midnight nightmares, I wanted to save my sister more than anyone else. This time, I finally had the chance. Together, Arthur and I dragged my sister onto the riverbank. Water dripped relentlessly from our bodies. Arthur gasped for air and looked up. The moment his eyes locked onto mine, he completely froze. He instantly realized that I had come back, too. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but he ultimately remained silent. He just crouched down, instinctively preparing to give my sister CPR. “Don’t touch her!” I shoved him away forcefully, my voice hoarse but incredibly resolute. I remembered it all too clearly. In our past life, Arthur had saved me exactly like this. In a small, rural town in the 90s, gossip could drown a person faster than any river. Soon enough, rumors spread through the entire town. Eventually, pressured by both sets of parents, I dropped out of high school before even taking the SATs and married Arthur. This time, I absolutely would not let my sister be touched by him, causing her to walk the same doomed path I did. Besides, my sister didn’t even like him. I dropped to my knees beside her and pressed my hands firmly against her chest. “Wake up! Autumn! Please… wake up!” Large, hot tears splashed onto her pale face. Finally, she coughed violently, expelling the river water, and opened her eyes. I hugged her tight, my entire body shaking with sobs. My sister, slowly regaining her strength, wrapped her arms around me. This wasn’t a dream! I had actually saved her! The forty-year nightmare had finally ended in this very moment. We sat in the sun, waiting for our clothes to dry. Arthur sat silently a short distance away, his eyes fixed intensely on my sister. It wasn’t until late afternoon that we finally headed home. When we reached our front porch, Arthur stopped. He avoided my gaze and spoke quietly to my sister: “Go inside and change quickly. Don’t catch a cold.” With that, he turned and walked away, never sparing me a single glance. When we got inside, Mom and Dad were terrified by my sister’s pale face. “What happened? Why is Autumn so pale?” “It’s nothing, Old Man Miller’s dog jumped out and startled her,” I lied quickly, forcing a light tone. “But I chased it away, it didn’t bite her!” My parents shook their heads and sighed. “You! Always running wild! Hurry up, wash up, and go to bed!” Relieved, they turned and went back to their room. After they had gone to sleep, a soft knock came at the front door. 2 I opened the door. It was Arthur. He was holding a thermos of ginger tea. Seeing me, he looked a bit uncomfortable: “Ginger tea… give some to Autumn… to warm her up.” He paused, then reluctantly added, “You should have some, too.” I took it and thanked him. Just as I was about to close the door, he reached out and stopped it. “Summer,” Arthur’s voice was tight, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You came back too, didn’t you?” As if he had made up his mind, he spoke faster: “Summer, you know I’ve always liked Autumn. What happened in our past life was a mistake! I only saved you because you were closer!” “Forget it ever happened. Don’t come bothering me, okay?” Arthur rushed through the words, as if pausing for even a second would mean I’d latch onto him forever. From eighteen to fifty-eight, these words had been buried in his heart for decades. And now, he had finally said them out loud. “Okay.” I looked at him, my heart surprisingly calm. “Arthur, you know I’ve never been into guys like you anyway.” A flash of stun crossed his face, but he eventually nodded. “Good.” 3 I took the warm thermos of ginger tea back to our room. My sister had already changed into clean pajamas and was drying her hair with a towel. Hearing me come in, she immediately looked up and asked: “Who was at the door? Was it Arthur?” I paused for a moment before setting the thermos on the desk. “Yeah. He brought this ginger tea. Said it’s to warm you up.” The corners of my sister’s mouth unconsciously curved upward; she was clearly very happy. She cupped the mug, taking small sips, the steam rising and softening her features. I hesitated, but still asked softly, “Autumn, are you still going to reject him?” The reason we had gone down to the river in the first place was because Arthur had asked her to meet him. He had planned to confess his feelings to her. But because my sister didn’t like him—or so she claimed—she dragged me along. Arthur probably didn’t know that my sister had caught onto his feelings a long time ago. When you like someone, you can’t hide it in your eyes. However, no one knew that I used to have a crush on Arthur, too. He was handsome, smart, and gentle. And because he liked my sister, he was especially nice to me by extension. Every day after school, he would wait for us outside my classroom and help me with my homework. When we were little, our parents were always busy and rarely had time to look after us. Once my sister reached school age, they told her to take care of me. I wasn’t as pretty as she was, and I certainly wasn’t as smart. Whenever Arthur saw my grades, he would always laugh and call me dense. “You can’t even solve a simple problem like this, Summer. How are you ever going to get into college?” I would get annoyed when he called me dense, but at the same time, I thought his smile was so gentle and handsome. A teenage girl’s crush is always hidden in those unspeakable, quiet moments. But the one he liked was my sister. So I buried those feelings deep, deep down inside. I never imagined that we would end up getting married because of my sister’s death. I had imagined a thousand different futures with him. But I never imagined it would be at the cost of my sister’s life. That was never the ending I wanted. And it certainly wasn’t the ending Arthur wanted. With a lost life standing between us, our hearts could never get close. Those hidden feelings never made a single ripple in the stagnant water of our decades-long marriage. Maybe Arthur genuinely never noticed my feelings, or maybe he just pretended not to see them. Until I realized that he had never, ever let go of my sister. Back then, I often wished we could just go back to the past. And now, we actually had. We all had the chance to change our futures. 4 “Summer.” My sister put down her mug, her tone carrying a hint of shyness: “Actually, I think… Arthur is a pretty good guy.” She turned to look at me. “Why don’t I give it a shot with him?” She paused, then asked softly, her eyes carefully watching my face: “Summer, are you… are you going to be mad?” My heart jolted like I’d been struck by lightning. Seeing that cautious look in her eyes, I finally understood. She had known all along. She knew I liked Arthur. That was why, in our past life, she insisted on dragging me to the river. It wasn’t because she was nervous. She wanted to speak up for me, to confess my feelings to him. She went there for me. And she died because of me. My nose stung. I forced down the surging emotions and intentionally raised my voice: “Autumn Vance! What are you talking about? Why would I be mad?!” I forced a laugh, keeping my tone as light as possible: “You know I’m totally over guys like Arthur now.” The gentleness and care Arthur possessed were reserved only for my sister. I had stopped liking him a long time ago. That youthful flutter had long been ground down by the passage of time. Now, I finally had the chance to walk a path that truly belonged to me. I would never have to sit in a lifeless house day after day. Waiting for a man who didn’t love me. 5 The next day, my sister and Arthur made it official. I climbed up into the branches of the huge oak tree at the edge of town to cool off. Below the tree, their laughter mixed with the sound of cicadas and drifted up to my ears. All summer, I quietly played their cover, and at the same time, I cracked open textbooks I hadn’t touched in ages. In this life, I wouldn’t have to drop out and get married. I was going to take the SATs and go to college. My grades were average; my only option was to work my ass off. When September rolled around, we started our senior year. My sister and Arthur were taking AP Science classes, while I was stuck in the standard Humanities track. I was in a different homeroom than they were. After school, the two of them showed up outside my classroom right on time. “Summer, let’s go home.” Arthur had my sister’s backpack slung over his shoulder. They both looked at me expectantly. I turned them down. “Autumn, you guys go ahead. I signed up for evening study hall.” My sister was stunned. “Since when? Why didn’t you tell me?” “My grades aren’t great, and if I want to get into a good college, I need to spend more time studying. I already told Mom and Dad. You guys go.” I didn’t even look up, my brow furrowed over the math worksheet in front of me. “But…” My sister wanted to say more, but Arthur’s face suddenly darkened. He grabbed her hand and turned away. “Let her be! Let her do whatever she wants! Let’s go!” The two of them walked away. I went back to burying my head in my math problems, only to hear a scoff from the desk behind me: “Heh. Interesting.” It was Cole Harrison. Cole had transferred from a big city prep school during the second semester of our junior year. Every day in class, he was either sleeping or reading comic books. He basically looked down his nose at everyone. He didn’t get along with anyone. I had certainly never spoken to him. I only knew his name because of my sister. I didn’t care what he meant by his comment. My time was more precious than anyone’s. I didn’t want to waste a single second. The old ceiling fan rattled and squeaked above me as I kept working on my math problems. That night, I walked home alone, carrying a flashlight. From the school to our house, there was a long, steep hill. I was slightly out of breath, quietly reciting history facts to myself. The night air was hot and sticky, but my steps had never felt so light. Until I saw Arthur standing near the entrance to our alleyway. He was clearly waiting for me. “Summer, you didn’t have to stay late just to avoid me.” He frowned at me, his voice low and serious: “It’s not safe for a girl to walk alone at night. Stop throwing a tantrum and start walking home with us tomorrow.” I looked at his face, at that expression that seemed to say he had me all figured out, and I just found it hilarious. “You think I’m avoiding you?” “Aren’t you? Ever since Autumn and I got together, you’ve been deliberately distancing yourself from me.” He took a deep breath, as if he were tolerating a child. “If you want to study, we can help you. There’s no need to act out like this.” “If something happens to you, Autumn will be worried.” He thought I was putting on a show. He thought my distance, my studying—it was all just a ploy to get his attention. “Arthur,” I stopped and looked him dead in the eye. “Do you really think everything I do revolves around you?” He was momentarily speechless. I continued, “I don’t like you. I genuinely don’t like you anymore.” “I’m staying for evening study hall for myself, and I’m going to college for myself! You flatter yourself way too much.” His face darkened, and his tone hardened: “Summer, do you really have to speak to me like that?” “You’re the one who blocked my path and started spouting narcissistic nonsense.” Combining both my lives, this was the first time I had ever openly fought with him. We stood there, glaring at each other in the muggy night wind. After a few seconds, he suddenly let out a short, cynical laugh. “Summer, you really think you can get into a good college? We’ll see about that! Don’t come begging me to tutor you when you fail.” Arthur threw those words at me and stormed off. I turned and walked toward my front door, but as I looked up, my heart skipped a beat. My sister was standing quietly in front of the house. I had no idea how long she had been watching. She took my backpack from me, stayed silent for a moment, and then spoke softly: “Summer, since you want to get into college that badly…” “Why don’t you move into the school dorms?”

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I’m an internet rat who tried to order a male escort, but accidentally messaged a hitman. Me: [How much for one time?] Hitman: [How many targets?] Whoa. Do they offer group discounts or something?! I hesitated for a long time before sending him my name. [Just… just me. Do you offer any discounts?] 1 It was day ten after my breakup. A time when hormonal imbalances usually kept me awake. I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Left with no other option, I hopped online in the middle of the night to find some “sleep aid” material. As I was scrolling, a photo bursting with raw, explosive power suddenly slid past my fingertips. In the frame, a man was wearing a dark tactical helmet and face mask. His sculpted, massive chest looked like it was about to burst through his tight black compression shirt. The only exposed skin on his entire upper body was a pair of thick, strong hands gripping a weapon. His knuckles were pronounced, veins bulging against the skin. The massive, terrifyingly large weapon actually looked small and easily managed in his hands. I couldn’t help but imagine those long fingers pulling a trigger. Except, what if it wasn’t a trigger under his fingertips, but… I instinctively covered my tingling nose. Absolute perfection! A masked, massive-chested daddy with a mysterious vibe! I immediately clicked onto the creator’s profile, desperate for more photos. But almost all of the account’s content was locked behind a paywall. You had to subscribe to see it. There were anonymous, glowing reviews at the bottom. [Worth every penny.] [Excellent and highly professional service!] [Clean, precise, and leaves no loose ends.] I thought about it for a second, and then it clicked— This must be an OnlyFans! Doing the mental math on the subscription tiers, I hissed through my teeth. This guy is expensive. Normally, I would just drool for a minute and move on. But my cheating ex had recently infuriated me, and I desperately needed to treat myself to something nice to calm my nerves. Us girls need to know how to treat ourselves. I can always make more money. But I’ll never again be in my twenties, single, and ready to play with a masked, massive-chested daddy. I instantly threw down the cash for the highest, most expensive tier. Sure enough, the creator DM’d me almost immediately. [What service do you require.] His texting style matched his vibe perfectly. Calm, steady, and ice-cold. I could easily imagine him looking at me with a sharp, lethal glare. Clutching my wildly beating heart, I gathered my courage and asked him. [If I hire you to come out once, how much does it cost?] He replied quickly: [How many targets.] Whoa. Does he do group sessions?! I was momentarily stunned by the sheer scope of his services. Sigh. The economy is rough right now. Even sugar mamas’ money is hard to earn. They have to work for it. I took a moment to appreciate his hustle: [Just me.] Thinking about it, I asked again: [Do you offer any discounts?] The other side went silent for a moment. It seemed he hadn’t anticipated my question. A moment later, he sent back four bolded words. [Prices are strictly non-negotiable.] So aloof. Seems like his business is booming. He probably realized his tone was a bit harsh, because a moment later, he sent another message. [Do you have any special requirements.] Me: ! Is the service really this good? Dropping serious cash really makes a difference. It’s making my mind go to some very dirty places. My face flushed bright red. My brain, acting like a runaway horse, automatically replayed every steamy romance novel and spicy video I had ever seen. It took me a long time to finally, timidly type out a reply. [Is… anything allowed?] The other side fell into a deep silence again. The quiet lasted even longer than before. After a long time, a concise, two-word reply appeared. [Extra fee.] …The little deer running around in my heart suddenly slammed into a wall and died. I instantly lost all impure desires: [Oh, never mind then.] After following his instructions to send him my name and a recent photo, I took the opportunity to ask a question. [What’s your name?] The cool guy’s response was very cool. [No need to know. Once the transaction is complete, we will never contact each other again.] Wow. So this is the legendary, ice-cold relationship built entirely on money. The adult world really is different. Me: [I still need something to call you. A stage name?] The other side seemed to consider this. He typed for a moment before slowly replying. [Codename: Phoenix.] 2 The agreed-upon date arrived. I excitedly grabbed my purse and rushed to the designated location for our “date.” I sat in the coffee shop, unable to suppress my anxiety, checking the clock over and over again. But after waiting for what felt like forever, the other party still hadn’t shown up. Watching the agreed-upon time pass with no sign of him, my heart felt like a beach at low tide—slowly becoming dry and empty. Did he… did he ghost me? Before leaving in defeat, I made one last, desperate attempt, stretching my neck to look out the door. Whether inside the coffee shop or out front, it was completely empty. There were barely any pedestrians on the street outside. Unwilling to give up, I repeatedly scanned the surrounding area. Until my eyes landed on a tall silhouette standing in the shade of a tree a little further down the street. My eyes instantly lit up. The man had a tall, lean physique. His full, sculpted chest strained against his button-down shirt, leaving not a single wrinkle in the fabric. Yet, he had buttoned it all the way up to his throat. He was wearing dark sunglasses and a face mask, covering his skin completely. The only bright spot in the entire picture was a pair of large, strong hands with pronounced knuckles. Normally, without seeing a face, it’s impossible to identify someone. But am I just a normal person? I’m a premium subscriber who navigated four different links, bypassed three platforms, and created two email accounts just to get a taste! A subscriber’s eyes are sharp! Goddammit, those hands definitely belonged to my man. I hurried over to him. Up close, he looked even more muscular. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, and he had to be pushing six-foot-three. His pockets were bulging. I couldn’t even begin to guess what was in them. That chest. Those legs. That size difference. I was practically drooling internally. The annoyance from waiting so long vanished instantly. Maybe he just got the location wrong? I patted him on the back. “What are you doing standing here? Why didn’t you come over?” The cool guy flinched when I touched him. He looked confused for a split second, then defensively took a step back, sizing me up coldly. “You have the wrong person.” I couldn’t help but touch my ear. His voice was incredible. Like a deep, resonant cello, every note he played scratched an itch in my heart. It was just a shame it was so icy. I tried to explain again: “I didn’t get the wrong person. I waited for you for a long time. You never came to find me, so I had to come find you.” The other party was silent for a few seconds, his tone remaining cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I suddenly felt a little frantic. I put my hands on my hips, huffing angrily. “How can you be like this! You took the money, you have to do the job! Are you backing out? Too late!” The man stood in silence for a moment. His chest rose and fell as he seemed to let out a long exhale. As if giving up, he took off his sunglasses and mask, revealing a striking, handsome face. He shoved one hand into his slightly bulging pocket and stepped a little closer to me. His narrow, sharp eyes glanced at me, as if assessing my intentions. “Since you already know, what do you want to do.” Having such a vibrant, stunningly handsome man this close to me… I instantly forgot my anger. I looked down shyly, my gaze wandering. “I, um… I booked a hotel room. We can go talk in there.” I cleared my throat slightly, gesturing for him to look around. “There are people walking around everywhere here. It’s not a good place to… get down to business.” The other party didn’t move a muscle for a long time. Afraid he misunderstood, I quickly waved my hands to explain. “Don’t worry, I’m not actually going to do anything to you. I just… I just wanted to meet up and chat.” My voice got quieter the more I spoke. “Anything else… only if you want to…” The man suddenly took a step forward, leaning down toward me. Instantly, his shadow engulfed me. Compared to his massive, muscular frame, I felt like a fragile little doll he could crush with one hand. I subconsciously held my breath. Seeing this, a brief, fleeting smile crossed his lips. In that instant, the ice cracked. Revealing the deep, dark water beneath. Dangerous and alluring. His deep, magnetic voice penetrated my eardrums. “I’m not worried. You’re the one who should be worried about what I might do to you.” With that, he turned and started walking toward the hotel. Leaving me standing there, dumbfounded. It took me a long time to finally let out a little squeal, covering my burning cheeks. Did… did I just get counter-flirted with? So this is the terrifying power of a professional male escort! 3 On the large bed in the hotel room. Phoenix and I sat side-by-side. The atmosphere was incredibly silent. To lighten the mood, I had to find a random topic to talk about. “Why did you get into this line of work?” “I don’t know how to do anything else.” My brain instantly conjured up the classic tragic backstory of a poor, dropout teenager eventually forced into sex work. I tried to offer some polite comfort. “It’s not a bad gig. It’s the oldest profession in the world. You shouldn’t feel ashamed.” Phoenix seemed to dislike discussing his profession. He frowned. “Let’s get down to business. What do you want to do.” Straight to the point? Isn’t that a little fast? I rubbed my hands together shyly: “O-okay. What can we do? Can we… bang?” His frown deepened: “I bang you?” Huh? Obviously? I asked, confused: “Or what, I bang you?” “No.” “Then can I, or can I not, touch your… um, gun?” “No.” “Can I just look at it?” “No.” “Can I at least touch your pecs?” “Absolutely not!!” Phoenix’s suddenly raised voice scared me. I stared blankly at the man who had suddenly scooted a foot away, the tips of his ears turning red. Why is he getting so worked up? Weren’t the things I asked for earlier way more invasive? Maybe his pecs are his sensitive spot? I thought about it, and decided to just ask him directly: “Do you only sell your time, or do you sell your body too?” The man also thought about it: “Yes.” Wow. A man of virtue. Looks like tonight is going to be nothing but pure, unadulterated conversation under the covers. I let out a bored yawn: “Alright then. I’m going to take a shower. Make yourself comfortable.” The other party didn’t move an inch, seemingly unbothered. When I came out wrapped in a towel… I saw Phoenix sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through my phone. “Hey! Do you have any professional ethics at all?!” I furiously lunged at him, trying to wrestle the phone away. The man was tall with long legs and arms. He easily dodged me by simply raising his arm, letting me stand on my tiptoes without ever reaching the phone in his hand. Instead, it looked like I was throwing myself into his arms, rubbing and pressing against him. Several times, I almost buried my face in his massive chest. Phoenix pressed his lips tightly together, grabbing my wrists and pinning them against the headboard, restricting my movements. His voice was a suppressed, gravelly whisper. “You are my employer?” I was stunned for a moment, and then it suddenly clicked. Just now… he had been reading my chat history with him. Did he think the male escort I ordered was someone else?! What’s wrong with a woman ordering an escort for herself? It’s the 21st century. Seriously. I glared at him resentfully. “Yes, so what!” The grip on my wrists suddenly loosened a bit. Phoenix frowned, glaring at me intensely for a moment. He looked almost… disappointed. He scolded me in a low voice: “You’re so young, why are you being so reckless!” I was taken aback by his scolding. When I snapped back to reality, I felt even more indignant— My intuition was right! This guy is a total prude! 4 “I’m not taking this job.” The man dropped that cold sentence and let me go. I stared in shock as he turned and took long strides toward the door. What does that mean? Is he rejecting me? He’s an escort! How dare he refuse a client! This is outrageous! I’m going to write a five-hundred-word one-star review! I scrambled out of bed in a fury. I threw my clothes on and chased him out the door, yelling after him. “If you don’t want the job, someone else will! I’ll just buy someone better later! I’ll buy ten!” The silhouette walking down the hallway abruptly stopped. The man turned around, his expression incredibly complex. “Because I refuse, you’re going to buy someone else?” He closed the distance between us in a few strides. His tone was almost heartbroken. “Can’t you just try to think about something positive? Can’t you just let go of this kind of desire? Must you… absolutely do this?” Why can’t I have a few worldly desires?! It’s not just men who have physical needs! I was just about to have it out with him. Suddenly, a disgusting, familiar voice came from behind me. Someone laughed and called my name: “Chloe? What are you doing here?” I turned around, annoyed. Sure enough, I saw a handsome face that I absolutely loathed. My ex-boyfriend. Brad was wearing a silk robe, tied loosely around his waist. A trail of bright red hickeys extended from his neck down to his collarbone. There were also several ambiguous scratch marks on his chest, half-hidden under the fabric. God knows whose bed he just crawled out of. Not long ago, I discovered he was frequently hooking up with random girls behind my back. I caught him in bed with someone else. Brad lazily adjusted the zipper on his dress pants, leaning against the doorframe of a hotel room, and lit a cigar. He blew a perfectly shaped smoke ring at my furious, questioning face, smiling faintly. “It was just playing around, don’t worry about it.” He reached out to hold my hand, his tone almost gentle. “You’re my only official girlfriend.” It was like freezing snow water poured onto the erupting magma of my fury. In that moment, I suddenly calmed down. Even though Brad looked human… The gap in our moral values was wider than the gap between a human and a dog. You can’t reason with a dog. There was no point in arguing. I dodged his touch, pulled my hand back, and delivered a ringing slap across his face. “Not anymore.” As I left, I caught a glimpse of him standing frozen in shock. The cigar slipped from his fingers, falling onto the carpet, burning a small, irreparable black hole. … I closed my eyes, trying desperately to suppress the disgusting memories bubbling up in my mind. But the dog in front of me wouldn’t stop barking. Brad sized me up, rubbing his chin with interest. “Were you coming here to check up on me? You just broke up with me, and you’re already regretting it.” He chuckled: “You little liar.” …Oh my god. If I committed a crime, the law should punish me, not subject me to this greasy torture. I felt sick to my stomach. Then I realized, why should I be the only one suffering? I looked left and right, grabbed Phoenix, who was standing nearby, and pulled him close. I smiled, linking arms with him intimately: “Watch what you say, my boyfriend will get angry.” Brad was incredibly arrogant. He probably thought I, his ex-girlfriend who couldn’t let him go, had immediately rushed out to find a rebound after dumping him. To someone like him, this was basically another slap in the face. Hearing my words, Brad’s face instantly stiffened. A moment later, a malicious smile appeared on his face. “Is that so? Then he should be calling me ‘Senior’.” “After all, whatever he’s playing with right now is just the trash I threw away.” “…!” I was so angry my whole body went cold. The next second, a warm hand suddenly wrapped around mine. Phoenix took a half-step forward, blocking the slimy, disgusting gaze the man was aiming at me. He coldly swept his eyes over the explicit marks on Brad’s body. “Are you insulting yourself for being even worse trash?” Society conditions women to feel ashamed of having sexual experience. But among men, they take pride in sleeping with as many women as possible. Brad probably never expected… That Phoenix, a fellow man, would break the unspoken bro-code and judge him by the same standards society uses to judge women. He stood there, dumbfounded, his jaw hanging open. Finally, unable to maintain his sophisticated facade, his eyes filled with rage: “You…” “You wanna fight?” Phoenix cut him off, stepping right up into his personal space. His six-foot-three height and incredibly intimidating, muscular physique instantly made the other man look like a short, scrawny twig. Brad stared at him darkly. After a long moment, his gaze bypassed Phoenix’s shoulder and landed on me. The malice in his eyes looked like he wanted to skin me alive. “Very good. I’ll remember this.”

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We’d been together for three years. I found out that every single one of his social media handles was “July.” I thought it was just because he loved the summer, loved the month of July. I never dug deeper. Until the day we got married. His ex-girlfriend sent a gift. The card inside the box was signed— Julia. I finally understood. He didn’t love July. He loved Julia. In that instant, my heart sank to the bottom of the ocean… 1. At my wedding to Carter, a girl in a white dress had too much to drink. Carter’s face was dark as he told her to stop making a scene. She ignored him and turned to smile at me. “Hey, I heard you’re pregnant. Have you picked out a name for the baby yet?” I touched my stomach and answered gently, “We’re calling him July.” “July.” Her gaze shifted to Carter, her smile widening until tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes. “Why would you call him July? It’s not even July.” I froze, a little confused. In the tense silence, Carter’s childhood best friend broke the ice: “Man, she’s wasted. I’ll take her back to the hotel.” After they left, I couldn’t help but ask Carter, my tone slightly probing: “Carter, who is she?” Carter looked at me intently, his expression completely normal. “An old college friend.” I wanted to ask more. But he quickly changed the subject. “Babe, some important clients from work are drinking too much. I need to go check on them.” “Okay…” I struggled to get the word out, swallowing down all the questions I wanted to ask. I didn’t know why, but watching him walk away in a hurry, I felt an inexplicable sense of unease. 2. When my best friend Chloe came to find me, she was holding a beautifully wrapped gift box. She tossed it in front of me, speaking incredibly bluntly: “Mia, this was left by your rival.” “Ri…val?” My heart gave a violent lurch. My mind immediately jumped to the girl in the white dress, and the color drained from my face. “Yeah, the girl who was just crying her eyes out over there.” Chloe puffed out her cheeks and rolled her eyes. “Crying over someone else’s groom at their wedding. How shameless…” Hearing this made me even more uneasy. Chloe patted my shoulder comfortingly, her tone extremely certain. “Don’t worry about it. Your Carter is famous for being obsessed with you. He’d never do anything to betray you.” It was true. Carter spoiled me rotten. Everyone said I had married for true love. I shouldn’t doubt him. I let out a long breath, deciding not to look for trouble where there was none. While chatting with Chloe, I absentmindedly played with the gift box. Suddenly. The name on the box caught my eye. I looked closer. So, her name was Julia. Wait. Julia… July… The string in my brain violently snapped. I sat there with my mouth hanging open, my straight back slumping as if I couldn’t bear the weight. My world suddenly went pitch black. “Mia, why are you crying? Don’t scare me.” “Where is Carter? Help me find Carter. I need to see him. I need to see him.” “Okay, okay, I’ll find Carter. You’re pregnant, you can’t keep crying like this.” 3. With trembling hands, I handed my phone to Chloe. I desperately needed to know where Carter was. My voice shook uncontrollably. “I want to FaceTime him.” Chloe nodded. The call had barely gone through before Carter declined it. I gripped the hem of my veil tightly, tilting my head back, but the tears kept falling against my will. “Call him again.” After declining the video call countless times, Carter finally called back on audio. His voice was a little hoarse. “Babe, what’s wrong?” “Where are you?” By this point, my emotions had already shattered. “I’m at…” He hesitated for half a second, then changed the subject. “I’m heading back right now.” I asked, almost hysterically, “Are you at the hotel? Did you go find her? Yes or no?” I couldn’t go on. I leaned helplessly against the corner of the wall, my nose incredibly congested. “Carter, tell me. Who is Julia?” Dead silence on the other end of the line. I clutched my chest and began to sob uncontrollably, crying until I couldn’t catch my breath, crying until the tears finally stopped coming. I felt so pathetic. On my wedding day, my husband’s “one that got away” showed up. He abandoned me and went with her to a hotel. What was even more pathetic: I had been with Carter for three years. Every single one of his social media handles was “July.” Even after I got pregnant and asked him what we should name the baby. Without even thinking, he blurted out, “July.” Even though I had wondered what special meaning that month held for him. I respected him and never dug deeper. Until today, I found out his true love’s name was Julia… How could he use my child to commemorate their love with such a clear conscience? What was I to Carter? What were my three years worth? I didn’t understand. If he hadn’t moved on from her, why did he get together with me? What did I do wrong? 4. Half an hour later, Carter burst into the bridal suite, sweating profusely. He asked Chloe to leave, wanting to talk to me alone. “What do you want to talk about?” I raised a pair of red, swollen eyes, looking at him blankly. He crouched in front of me, devoid of any emotion. “Julia is my ex-girlfriend.” “How long were you together?” “Seven years.” “How long have you been broken up?” “Four years.” “Do you still love her?” Carter didn’t answer. He tacitly admitted it. I wanted to laugh, but the more I laughed, the more tears fell. “Why are you two doing this? She can’t let you go, so she comes and crashes my wedding. You can’t let her go, so you abandon me to go find her. Carter, what exactly did I do wrong to deserve being collateral damage for you two?” I pulled at my veil as I cried. “Can you stop making a scene, please?” Carter pressed his lips into a thin line and held down my hands. “I haven’t done anything with her. I just went to check on her.” I stared at him with wide eyes. I didn’t know how he could say something like that so self-righteously. “So what you’re saying is, in the future, whenever she cries, you’re going to abandon me and go to her?” I asked hysterically. Carter fell silent again. I don’t know how much time passed before I heard his voice: “I’m the one marrying you. Just pretend this never happened.” My vision went dark. It felt like a thunderbolt had struck right above my head. A sharp, piercing pain, followed by a massive surge of anger welling up inside me. He thought marrying me was some kind of favor? I didn’t care. I really didn’t care. I stumbled backward, leaning against the wall, my face deathly pale, breaking out in a cold sweat. The baby in my belly seemed to feel my pain. It gave a small flutter, but I was in agonizing pain. I clutched my stomach, filled with sorrow. Baby, this is your first time kicking. Why did it have to be at a time like this? 5. Carter frowned, reaching out to help me up. I couldn’t stop myself from screaming at him, “Don’t touch me! You’re dirty.” “Please don’t be like this, okay?” Carter stared at my stomach and sighed. “I never wanted to leave you, I mean it.” Hearing those words made me sick. He was so disgusting. If I hadn’t met him, I could have had a clean, uncomplicated romance. I could have been happy. He destroyed me. I grabbed my phone, not caring about anything, and threw it at him. “The wedding is off. We’re getting a divorce right now.” Carter froze. A few seconds later, his face grew visibly colder, his words full of sarcasm: “You come from a single-parent household yourself. Do you really think your mom is going to agree to you getting a divorce while pregnant?” I never in a million years thought Carter would use my family against me. My heart felt like it was being carved into a thousand pieces by a sharp knife. Every piece was being gnawed at, corroded, pierced. I held my head and leaned against the wall, crying out loud until my throat went hoarse. I didn’t even notice when he left. 6. After that day, Carter and I entered a total cold war. I moved back to my own place. As Carter said, I was a child of a single-parent household. Before my dad died, my mom lived in a loveless, “widowed” marriage, so she couldn’t empathize with me. When it was time for Carter to come pick me up, she couldn’t wait for me to leave. “Carter gave you an out, you should take it.” My mom kept nagging me. “Don’t hide in your room, hurry up and come out.” I practically begged her. “Mom, tell him to leave.” “You’re pregnant, what are you making such a fuss about? You have to swallow this.” “I can’t. I just can’t swallow it.” “Marriage is about turning a blind eye.” She threw off my blanket. Facing my red, swollen eyes, her tone softened slightly. “Besides, Carter didn’t actually cheat on you.” It wasn’t like that. Emotional cheating is far more terrifying than physical cheating. My tone was incredibly desolate. “We’ve been together for three years. He sleeps next to me, but thinks about another woman. What am I?” “You just overthink things. Let me tell you right now, no matter how much you guys fight, don’t even think about getting a divorce. I can’t afford to lose face like that.” This was the first time I disobeyed her. “I am getting a divorce.” My mom looked at me with an expression of deep disappointment. “At the end of the day, isn’t it your own fault for being useless? If you were perfect, I don’t believe Carter would still be thinking about his ex.” “Mom—” I interrupted her, breaking down. I covered my ears; I didn’t want to hear another sound. “Please stop talking. I’m begging you.” Endless grievance quickly spread through my chest, squeezing my eyes until they couldn’t hold back the tears. It wasn’t my fault. Why blame me? Does this world really have to be this absurd?

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I was the youngest in my family, but I might as well have been invisible. Ever since I was born, I lived under the crushing shadows of my older siblings. Inferiority, isolation, and mediocrity—those were the words that defined me. The wildest thing I ever did was leverage my family’s power to force Ben Harper, a broke, struggling guy, into an exclusive relationship contract when he was at his absolute lowest. For the next four years, subject to his daily cold shoulder and silent treatment, I finally had to face the facts: he didn’t love me. He never would. But I was stubborn just that one time. Even though it was agony, I refused to let go. Until one day, a disease began to eat away at my memories. I started to forget. I forgot the day I first met Ben. Instead, I found myself remembering a young man wearing a hearing aid, looking at me with intense, obsessive eyes, saying, “You have to promise to love me forever. Promise me.” Chapter 1 “You’re not wearing your ring today.” Ben was at the dining table. He was cold, elegant, and those were the first words he’d spoken all morning. I froze, then glanced down at my own hand. There was a faint, pale mark at the base of my finger from years of wearing that band without fail. But today, the ring was gone. “I must have taken it off to wash the vegetables and forgot to put it back on.” I subconsciously tried to twist the ring, but my thumb only met warm, soft skin. I paused, then continued, “I’ll go get it.” I started to push my chair back, intending to go to the kitchen. “Forget it. It’s not like it matters.” Ben spoke indifferently, keeping his eyes lowered as he continued to eat. I stopped dead in my tracks. His words triggered a rush of memories. I had spent forty-three days designing that matching set myself. And now, it didn’t matter? My eyes drifted to his hand. He was wearing a ring, all right. But it was a completely different one. “I’ve fulfilled our arrangement for this month,” Ben said suddenly. “Five days, as agreed. I won’t be back for the rest of the month. He’ll get angry if I do.” I turned my head away, recoiling from his words. “I need to find my ring first,” I said stubbornly. He didn’t argue. He just sat there, face devoid of emotion, watching me like I was putting on a pathetic, low-rent play. His eyes seemed to say: Are you done yet? I suddenly remembered his reaction years ago, when I had practically done a magic trick to pull these two rings out in front of him. He hadn’t been this cold back then. He had tried to act calm, but the tips of his ears were burning red. When I slid the band onto his finger, I could feel his fingertips trembling slightly. Back then, I really believed he loved me too. I thought that was why, out of everyone in high society, he had chosen me—the girl hiding in the shadows. But I found out later it was all a terrible misunderstanding. His love was never meant for me. My shoulders slumped. Suddenly, the whole charade felt utterly meaningless. So, I sat back down in silence and lowered my head to eat my own breakfast. “I’m done.” He wolfed down a few more bites, set his fork down with a frustrated clatter, and stood up. “I’m leaving now.” “Today isn’t over yet,” I said softly. “What?” I sighed. “Just keep me company for a little while this afternoon. I have to go to the hospital.” Chapter 2 Ever since I threatened him into signing that relationship contract, things between us had gone downhill fast. In the beginning, he would still speak a few sentences to me. But later, he only ever looked at me with exhaustion. Our communication dwindled to almost nothing under his deliberate avoidance. I was the one holding on for dear life, forcing this tiny bit of fate to keep us connected. For a long time now, the thorns of this relationship had grown so deep into my flesh that I couldn’t distinguish between my own physical sensations and the emotional pain he inflicted on me. But either way, it proved I was still alive. It had been a long time since I had asked him to stay. He looked genuinely stunned. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked. He sat back down at the table, eyeing me with suspicion. “I’ve been getting these sharp, splitting headaches lately,” I said offhandedly. Honestly, that wasn’t the worst of it. I was becoming terribly forgetful. I would lose track of things constantly, only for the memory to slam back into me hours later. Sometimes, I forgot what I could and couldn’t eat. I’d eat something, then immediately throw it up. It was getting bad enough that I really had to get it checked out. Ben was silent for a moment. Then, he said, “Fine. I’ll go with you this afternoon.” “Thank you.” I offered him a calm smile. My voice was steady. There was no trace of the hysterical person I used to be. He lowered his eyes and turned his face away. A muffled “Okay” escaped him. The sunlight hit his face just right. He was still agonizingly handsome. “Did you… tell your family about this?” he asked. I shook my head. “There’s nothing to tell.” “You know, they actually care about you. Families should be able to get past things.” He was using that earnest, lecturing tone again. A small, genuine smile touched his lips. I knew who he was thinking about. When someone thinks about the person they truly love, their eyes light up, and their whole expression softens. He was thinking of Liam, my older brother. Liam was adopted, yet my mother had showered him with all the love she had strictly withheld from me. I watched Ben quietly. For the first time, I didn’t argue back. Chapter 3 He drove me to the hospital. I pulled open the passenger door and was about to get in, but Ben stopped me. “Sit in the back.” Short and to the point. There was a tiny sticky note on the passenger side dashboard. Written on it was: Liam’s exclusive seat. Ovo. I understood completely. But my face still burned with shame. I was the one Ben was in an arrangement with. But in moments like this, I felt like the “other woman.” The intense wave of emotion made my head feel like it was splitting open. It felt as though something was stirring inside my brain, peeling layers away. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. The world spun violently, and I couldn’t keep my balance. Subconsciously, I reached out to grab the edge of the car seat to steady myself. Ben’s expression changed instantly. He slapped my hand away and snapped, “I told you to sit in the back! Are you deaf?!” Without support, I stumbled and nearly fell to the ground. It was only then that Ben realized something was really wrong with me. Instinctively, he stepped forward to help, but he forced himself to stop after two paces. He stood there, keeping his hands to himself. “Are you okay?” he asked coldly. He knew the answer, yet he asked anyway. Back when we were younger, if I so much as scraped my knee, this same man would get terrified and fuss over bandaging me up. Now, he just stood there like a stranger. Time really does change people. I fought through the excruciating pain and shook my head. “I’m fine.” I climbed into the back seat, all on my own. I felt something slipping away. I tried desperately to grab hold of that thought, to remember what it was. But I couldn’t. Chapter 4 He drove smoothly. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror a few times, mouth opening as if to say something, but he never did. I didn’t speak either. I just stared out the window. Suddenly. He pulled the car over halfway to the hospital. “Hey, Liam.” Ben’s voice became instantly tender, loud and clear in my ears. “What! Is it serious? How were you that careless?” His voice spiked with panic. “I’m coming right now. Stay right there, don’t move—” His eyes landed on me in the mirror, and the words died in his throat. Hesitation and guilt flashed in his eyes. I remained silent. After a moment, I let out a soft sigh. If I’d known, I would have just taken an Uber. Even as I thought that, I didn’t move. I just looked at him. I wanted to see if he would actually kick me out of the car. Was it resentment? Bitterness? I honestly couldn’t tell anymore. “I’m sorry, Chloe,” he said finally. “Something happened with Liam. I have to go to him. You… you need to call a cab. After your checkup, I’ll come pick you up.” He must have assumed I would cause a scene because his expression was tense as he turned around. He used a very serious, almost pleading tone to reason with me. I nodded. I didn’t say another word. I just got out of the car in silence. He looked stunned. It seemed my easy compliance shocked him. Ben opened his mouth, his eyes shifting nervously, before finally saying, “I promise I’ll pick you up after your appointment.” He was giving me his word. My head hurt worse. I couldn’t be bothered to deal with him. I lowered my head and opened an app to hail a ride. There wasn’t much traffic around here; it might take a while to get a driver. Seeing that I wouldn’t speak to him, Ben wanted to say something else, but ultimately decided to remain silent. He started the car and drove away. Chapter 5 A tearing pain woke me up. My eyes snapped open. The chaotic dream I was having was terrifying. I gasped for air, wiping cold sweat from my forehead. “It shouldn’t be too serious… try to keep emotions stable…” I heard a doctor speaking nearby. I squinted my eyes toward the doorway. A tall, lean young man was leaning in slightly, listening intently to the doctor’s instructions. He had messy black hair and beautiful dark eyes. He looked very young, like a high school kid. There was a hearing aid behind his ear, so it seemed he had some auditory issues. His clothes were faded from too many washes, but they were spotlessly clean. He looked like someone from a poor background who nonetheless faced life with dignity. And his face… I really liked it. “I understand. Thank you, Doctor.” The young man turned his head and locked eyes with me as I studied him. Joy sparked in his eyes, and he quickly walked over to me. “You’re awake!” Oh, right. I remembered now. I had fainted in the middle of the street for some reason. I tried hard to remember why. Nothing came to mind, so I gave up. My last memory before waking up was this young man’s face. It looked like he was the one who had brought me to the hospital. “My hero!” I grabbed his hand in gratitude. He jumped, startled. His pale skin instantly blushed a deep pink in a matter of seconds. Because he was nervous, his cadence changed slightly. “I… was just passing by. Don’t be scared. Your bill is paid.” “Thank you. My name is Chloe. Let me add you on social media so I can Venmo you back.” I said. The guy pursed his lips awkwardly. He tried to gently pull his hand back, but I didn’t let go. When he lifted his eyes and saw me staring at him intensely, he immediately lowered his head again. His body was stiff, and his long eyelashes trembled like butterflies. He looked incredibly embarrassed. “Pl-please speak a little slower. I can’t quite hear…” He pointed to the hearing aid behind his ear and mumbled, “I’m sorry.” He was apologizing to me. That caught me off guard. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” I couldn’t help but laugh softly. I shook my head, slowed down my speech significantly, pointed to my phone, and repeated everything I had just said. “Chloe.” He repeated my name, pronouncing the syllables carefully. Then he smiled, his eyes crinkling. His voice was cool and pleasant. “My name is Noah Sterling. Don’t worry about the money. You… you looked so sad when I found you. I just want you to be happy.” Noah was speaking to a total stranger with absolute sincerity. For reasons I didn’t understand, a lump formed in my throat. Tears rolled down my face. While Noah panicked, I just sat there, expressionless, crying my eyes out. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’ll be fine in a minute.” He didn’t speak. He just handed me a tissue. Then, he stayed by my side in silence. Chapter 6 The doctors said it was a physical manifestation of psychological trauma. Because I had suffered a severe emotional shock, my body had activated a defense mechanism. They couldn’t say if I would recover my memories, or when. I rested my chin on my hand, listening to them with absolute boredom. I felt perfectly fine. I ran through my memories—aside from a few specific, clear blanks, most of it seemed normal. It was obvious that the missing pieces wouldn’t affect my ability to speak or function. I glanced at Noah. He was listening intensely to the doctor, even taking notes on a small pad he carried. “I’ve got to say, son,” the doctor teased with a smile, “your boyfriend cares more about your body than you do.” I lowered my head, feeling guilty. Noah said embarrassedly, “She… Chloe is… precious. Cute. I’ll remember for her.” Me: “…” Even though my memory was a bit spotty. My actual height was hardwired into my DNA. I was 6’0″. I wasn’t a bodybuilder by any means, and I was shorter than Noah, sure. But “cute”? I don’t think I quite fit that description. The doctor understood and dropped the subject. … They prescribed some meds, and once they confirmed my vitals were fine, I was discharged. “Are… are you going home?” Noah and I walked out of the hospital together. I nodded, then pulled out my phone to search for hotels nearby. “Yeah, eventually. I don’t remember where I live.” I didn’t want to go to my parents’ house. My subconscious told me that if I went back there, I’d face constant triggers. Spending a week there would probably result in my brain rebooting to a toddler’s level. “Let me add your contact info so I can pay you back,” I said. It was about sixty bucks. I wasn’t about to stiff a nice guy like him. Noah pursed his lips stubbornly and started walking ahead with his head down. “I have to pay you back,” I insisted. He was tall with long legs, and within a few steps, he had left me behind. I quickly hurried forward and grabbed the edge of his jacket. “Noah!” He stopped. When Noah looked down at me, his eyelashes were lowered pitifully, making him look exactly like a large dog getting scolded. I rubbed my temples in frustration. “First things first, I’m paying you back.” He pointed to his ear, looking utterly blank. I looked at his ear. Well, look at that. He wasn’t wearing his hearing aid. He had manually turned off his receivers. “I can’t hear you,” Noah said righteously. Me: “…” “Chloe.” A voice that was both familiar and strange sounded right next to me. I frowned and looked over. It was two men. I recognized one, but not the other. The one I recognized was my “brother” by marriage, Liam. It was because of him that I had suffered quite a bit at home. Though, now that I really thought about it, most of those memories were hazy around the edges, not quite sharp. The pain associated with them seemed distant. The other guy was a handsome fellow with a furious expression whom I didn’t know at all. But the second I looked at him, my heart twisted with a tangible, physical ache. So strange. Why did seeing them make me so unhappy? Seeing that they had spotted me. I used my very poor acting skills to pretend I hadn’t noticed them. I turned around, grabbed Noah’s hand, and tried to make a quick escape from this trouble spot. “Chloe! Where do you think you’re going?!” I didn’t expect the angry, handsome stranger to pursue us so relentlessly. He cut us off, blocking our path. Noah realized something was wrong. He put his hearing aid back in and stepped in front of me to shield me. “Who is this? You let this—” The man scrutinized Noah with a look that made me furious. He grit his teeth and spat, “You let a deaf kid be your companion at the hospital? Did the doctor have to learn sign language to talk to him?”

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1 At our College of Agriculture’s final project presentation, my girlfriend’s childhood friend beat me to the punch, announcing all of my experimental results as his own. This was a guy who was dead last in every single one of our major courses, yet he could flawlessly recite the most esoteric data from my soil analysis. The precise fertilizer concentration that took me hundreds of trials and sleepless nights to determine? He claimed he could figure it out to the last decimal just by sniffing a blade of grass. I was trembling with rage, but then a strange overlay of text, like comments on a livestream, flickered across my vision. [What’s the point of the side character trying so hard? This is a power-couple romance. The main character has a cheat system; he can win just by showing up.] [Poor guy. He’s just a stepping stone for the protagonist. No matter what he achieves, it’ll all be credited to the main character in the end.] [It’s fate. The main character just has to exist, and all the glory will be his.] Reading those comments, I suddenly let out a sharp laugh. Oh, you want to steal my work? I’ll make you choke on the fruits of your own theft. … Out on the university’s experimental farm, Dylan stood with an air of unshakeable confidence, rattling off a string of complex data. “After my repeated measurements, the improved chlorophyll content has increased by 35%, and the expression of antifreeze proteins has doubled…” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. That was the final data set I had pulled just last night after an all-nighter in the lab! To get those numbers, I had spent half a month in a walk-in freezer kept at ten degrees below zero. The frostbite on my hands still hadn’t healed. Besides me, not even my advisor had seen this final version! How could he possibly know? Professor Albright pushed his glasses up his nose, checking the figures against his own records. A look of undisguised admiration spread across his face. “Perfectly accurate! Dylan, you may not be the best in the classroom, but you have a god-given talent for this.” “This kind of intuitive feel for the data… most of my Ph.D. students don’t have it.” The room erupted in applause. Dylan stood casually next to Sarah, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “It’s all thanks to Sarah’s guidance. I didn’t really do much of the lab work. I was just walking past the fields earlier, smelled the soil, and it just… came to me.” Smelled the soil? I almost laughed out loud. This was a thesis defense, not K-9 unit tryouts! It took a high-precision machine three days and nights to calculate that molecular formula, and he figured it out with his nose? But of course, Sarah was beaming with admiration. She clapped him on the shoulder in front of everyone. “See? I told you Dylan was a genius. You’re always so modest.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I stormed onto the stage, my voice shaking with fury. “Dylan, that’s my data!” “You don’t even know how to turn on a centrifuge! You don’t know that chlorophyll extraction has to be done in the dark! How could you possibly have come to this conclusion?” The room fell into a dead silence. Sarah’s face instantly darkened. She stepped in front of Dylan, shielding him protectively. “Alex, when are you going to stop making a scene? This is a project defense, not a place for you to throw a tantrum!” “Dylan was in the lab for a whole week working on this project. I saw it with my own eyes! How can you stand there and slander him out of pure jealousy?” I stared at Sarah, completely dumbfounded. She was my girlfriend. My lab partner. That week Dylan had supposedly “worked in the lab,” he had been binge-watching shows in the break room, ordering takeout, and flirting with her. Meanwhile, I was in the lab next door, watching that centrifuge spin over ten thousand times. “Sarah, how can you say that with a straight face?” I held up my hands, raw with frostbite and caked with dirt. “This is proof of spending three months buried in the soil! Dylan’s hands still smell like the lotion he uses. You’re telling me he’s the one who did the work?” Murmurs rippled through the audience of professors and students, but the glances they shot my way were filled with contempt. “What’s wrong with Alex? Is it that hard to admit someone else has talent?” “Yeah, he’s just a book-smart nerd. So much jealousy.” Dylan frowned, casting a hurt look at Sarah. He lowered his voice. “It’s okay, Sarah. Alex is probably just stressed out and overworked. I don’t blame him.” “As long as it brings honor to the department, I don’t care whose name is on the paper.” This only made Sarah more defensive. “It’s your work, so it should have your name! Don’t worry, as long as I’m here, no one is going to steal your credit!” she soothed him. Then, she turned to me, her eyes flashing with a warning. “Alex, don’t be so petty.” “Dylan’s talent is a good thing. You should learn from him instead of just burying your nose in books and running yourself into the ground.” I was trembling, not from cold, but from sheer, unadulterated fury. Just then, more of those floating comments scrolled past my eyes: [Here we go! Let’s all enjoy this epic power-couple romance!] [The side character might be smart, but who cares when he’s just cannon fodder? The protagonist just has to stand there, and he wins everything.] [I feel bad for the guy for a second, but this is a romance novel! Sarah will only ever believe the protagonist. The more the side character struggles, the more pathetic he looks.] I froze. Side character? Protagonist? A cheat system? Was I living in a novel? And was Dylan’s apparent clairvoyance just a built-in cheat? Forcing down the shock and rage, I looked at Dylan, my voice cold and steady. “Fine. If you’re so talented, then please, for the benefit of Professor Albright, explain the derivation process for this data.” 2 Dylan’s expression faltered. He looked down, a wounded look on his face. “Sarah, why does Alex keep pressing me about the process? Is he… doubting me?” Sarah exploded. “Alex! Haven’t you had enough? Is it so difficult to admit someone is better than you? Stop with this academic bullying!” “Who cares about the process as long as the results are correct? You bookworms will never understand what real talent is!” Even Professor Albright seemed annoyed with me now. He tapped his pen on the table. “Alex, in research, we need to be gracious.” “Data is rigid, but people aren’t. Dylan’s intuition is a rare gift. That’s enough. This matter is closed. Dylan’s defense is passed, and the outstanding graduate award goes to him.” My heart went cold as I watched the scene unfold. This wasn’t the first time. Ever since our senior year internship started, no matter what project I worked on, Dylan always managed to swoop in at the critical moment and claim the victory. I pulled all-nighters researching papers; he went to the gym and the mall. I toiled in the fields; he sipped coffee in an air-conditioned office. But in the end, all my hard work was attributed to his “natural brilliance.” And I was cast as the jealous, bitter underling who only knew how to study. The comments kept scrolling furiously. [The side character is so miserable, but I love it! It’s so satisfying to see the protagonist effortlessly crush the book-smart nerd!] [Can we get past this plot point already? I’m tired of the cannon fodder. I want to see the main couple finally get together!] [Patience, friend upstairs. Without Alex paving the way for their love story, it wouldn’t be as dramatic.] Paving the way? If you say I’m just cannon fodder meant to pave their road, then I’ll just have to blow that road to smithereens and see where they go. To prevent my work from being stolen again, I applied to move into the university’s most remote, abandoned laboratory building right after the defense. I cut off all internet access, unplugged the ethernet cables, and locked all my hard-copy data in a safe. I didn’t even bring my phone into the lab. This time, I was developing a “Super Soil Conditioner” for highly alkaline land. It was a major national project. If successful, it wouldn’t just help solve food shortages but also bring in massive economic benefits. For an entire month, I lived and breathed soil science, practically bathing in dirt. Sarah sent me a few texts. [Alex, how long are you going to keep up this silent treatment? Dylan wants to take you out for dinner to apologize. Don’t be an ass about it.] [What are you even doing hiding out in that dump? You’re unrepentant, cold, and pathetic!] I found them laughable and simply blocked her number. Finally, late one night, I perfected the formula for the conditioner. My hands trembled with excitement as I stared at the perfect, pale blue liquid in the test tube. But before I could even celebrate, the lab door was kicked open with a loud bang. Sarah marched in, followed by Dylan and several deans from our department. Dylan pointed at the test tube on my desk, his face a mask of feigned surprise. “Sarah, I told you I had a feeling!” “I had a dream last night that there was something wrong with the soil samples here. I can’t believe Alex was secretly working on my project!” I was shaking with rage. I stood in front of my lab bench, shielding my work. “Dylan, have you no shame? I completed this independently. There isn’t even an internet connection here. How could you possibly know it’s your project?” Dylan sighed, looking exasperated. “But, Alex… I already finished this project.” He glanced past me at the whiteboard behind my back and said casually, “It’s sulfur powder mixed with gypsum, right? Then add a 3% concentration of organic acid, and… a trace amount of rare earth elements?” BOOM. A real clap of thunder rattled the old building’s windows. I froze, completely rigid. The formula he recited, so casually, was identical to the one I had just finalized moments ago. 3 I had no internet. I hadn’t told a soul. I hadn’t even had time to write down the final record. How did he know? Seeing my silence, Sarah assumed I was guilty. She shoved me aside with a cold look. I stumbled back, my waist hitting the corner of the lab bench with a sharp, searing pain. She carefully picked up the test tube and handed it to Dylan, then spun back to glare at me. “Alex! You are a disgrace to the academic world!” “Stealing Dylan’s results to conduct your own research? I never thought you could sink this low.” I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “I stole from him? Sarah, is your head filled with mud?” “I’m living in this abandoned building, and you two are in a downtown apartment. How exactly would I steal anything from him?” Sarah hesitated for a second, then doubled down. “Then you must have planted a listening device on him! Everyone knows Dylan is a genius. A desperate person like you is capable of anything!” One of the deans frowned, his expression stern. “Alex, your grades have always been excellent, but character is far more important.” “Since Dylan can accurately state the formula, it proves the work is his. Hand over your experimental data. Don’t force the university to put a mark on your permanent record.” The comments flooded my vision again. [Awesome! The protagonist’s cheat system is unbeatable. The side character worked his ass off for nothing, hahaha!] [He was so paranoid, trying to hide everything, and it was all for nothing. This is hilarious.] [That’s the protagonist’s halo for you. No matter how hard the side character works, he’s just making the protagonist’s wedding dress!] I stared at the stolen test tube, my nails digging so deep into my palms that I drew blood. Sarah looked at Dylan. “Dylan, keep this safe. With this, next year’s national scholarship is definitely yours.” Dylan gave a slight nod. “Thanks, Sarah. And thanks to Alex, for being so willing to step aside.” They took all my data and walked out, leaving me in the dust. Just because he’s the protagonist with a cheat system, he can just take whatever he wants? I couldn’t swallow this. You all believe in “talent,” do you? Well, let’s see just how long this fake talent of his can last. Half a month later, during the most critical phase of our graduation projects, a rare and aggressive “Red Spot Blight” broke out in the experimental rice paddies. This crop was a major joint project between our college and the National Agricultural Institute. It was tied to the degrees of every graduating senior in the department, not to mention millions in research funding. In just three days, vast swaths of the paddies turned a sickly yellow, the leaves covered in terrifying red blotches, as if stricken with a terminal illness. The Dean was so stressed his hair seemed to turn whiter overnight. He called an emergency meeting with all professors and students. “Whoever can solve this problem will get a direct admission into the Ph.D. program and a fifty-thousand-dollar grant!” he roared, slamming his hand on the table. Instinctively, every eye in the room turned to the “boy genius,” Dylan. After all, he was the prodigy who could supposedly pluck formulas out of his dreams. Basking in the attention, Dylan confidently adjusted his collar. “Don’t worry, Dean. A small problem like this… I should be able to get a feel for the solution just by taking a look at the fields.” Sarah, standing beside him, chimed in. “Exactly. Dylan is our lucky star. He’ll figure it out.” I sat silently, expressionless, spinning a pen in my hand. Dylan stood up and walked over to me. “Alex, I hear you’ve also been studying plant pathology. Why don’t we make it a little competition? See who can develop a cure faster.” “If you lose,” he said, his voice dripping with arrogance, “you’ll have to admit in front of the whole department that you stole my previous work, and you’ll apologize to me.”

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1 After my grandmother passed away, I returned to the city of Aethelburg from our family’s country estate, ready to finalize my wedding plans. But when I arrived at the luxury event planning company, poised to book the most lavish wedding package they offered, the consultant informed me that the groom was already married. Dominic Blackwood, the eldest son of the Blackwood Corporation and heir to a fortune, had married three months ago. The bride was his childhood sweetheart, Ava Vaughn, the daughter of the Director of the Capital Commission. I stood in front of the Blackwood family’s sprawling villa, my brow furrowed in confusion. The thing is, I am Ava Vaughn. … The Blackwood family’s butler wouldn’t even let me through the door. “Mr. Blackwood’s orders,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “He said, and I quote, ‘How dare someone impersonate my wife? My wife and I grew up together. As if I wouldn’t recognize her.’” My younger cousin, Bea, had tears welling in her eyes. “Ava, what is going on? Why are they saying you’re an imposter?” “Weren’t you and Dominic betrothed since you were kids? Weren’t we supposed to be planning your wedding?” I put a finger to my lips, silencing her. I had come back to Aethelburg ahead of my parents to get a head start on the wedding preparations, knowing how overwhelming the logistics could be. They were tied up with work and would join me later. But at the wedding planner’s office, just after I’d finished outlining my vision to the head designer, she had paled at the sight of my fiancé’s photo on my phone. “Miss Vaughn… isn’t this… isn’t this Mr. Blackwood?” “Yes,” I’d said. “He’s my fiancé.” The designer’s face had crumpled as if she’d bitten into a lemon. “But, Miss Vaughn, Mr. Blackwood got married three months ago. Our company planned the entire event…” For the past five years, ever since my grandmother’s health began to decline, I had put my life in the city on hold. I’d moved back to the countryside to care for her, a full-time granddaughter, and hadn’t set foot in Aethelburg that entire time. 2 It was only after Grandma’s passing that my mother called me back, urging me to prepare for the marriage to the Blackwood family. The betrothal had been set in our childhood, and if we delayed any longer, we’d both be pushing thirty. Upon learning the truth, my first instinct was to demand an explanation from the Blackwoods, only to be met with this. The arrogance of his family, Dominic’s dismissive scorn… I had to laugh. He wouldn’t recognize me? He’d better hope he wasn’t mistaken. I took Bea on a shopping spree that covered every high-end boutique in Aethelburg, and I had every single bill sent directly to the Blackwood residence. After all, the name signed on every receipt was Ava Vaughn, daughter of the Director of the Capital Commission. By noon, a crowd had gathered in front of Dominic Blackwood’s corporate headquarters. Representatives from Aethelburg’s most exclusive luxury brands were all there, either to deliver merchandise or to collect payment. “Mr. Blackwood, the signature is clearly Mrs. Blackwood’s. You can’t possibly refuse to pay.” “Everyone knows Mrs. Blackwood’s name! Who would dare impersonate her?” “Mr. Blackwood, your wife’s purchases at our boutique total one hundred thousand dollars. We’ll need you to settle the account.” “Mr. Blackwood, if you’re a bit short on cash, perhaps you could ask Mrs. Blackwood to hold off on her shopping for a month? Or at least return the black pearl necklace. Another client is waiting for it, and it’s sixty thousand dollars.” “Exactly. If you can’t afford it, don’t let your wife run around town charging things to your name. What kind of behavior is that?” “We allowed her to take the items based on your reputation, Mr. Blackwood. Surely a man of your standing wouldn’t default on his wife’s bills.” I watched the chaos unfold from a nearby café, sipping my coffee with a faint smile. A thin sheen of sweat had appeared on Dominic’s forehead as he stared at the throng of people at his doorstep. Let him deal with it. He married Ava Vaughn? Then he could bear all the consequences that came with her name. Just then, a woman emerged from the building. She was dressed head-to-toe in designer labels, but she looked so frail a gust of wind could knock her over. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at Dominic. “Honey, what’s going on?” 3 It was the current Mrs. Blackwood, the woman his staff now called Ava Vaughn. She looked at the receipts in the hands of the sales representatives, at the signatures, and shook her head. “I didn’t sign these,” she said to the crowd. “Someone is impersonating me.” One of the sales associates scoffed. “And we’re just supposed to take your word for it?” The woman replied confidently, “I grew up abroad. I can speak the language, but I never learned to write it properly. That is not my handwriting.” It was too late for Dominic to stop her. A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. “The daughter of the Director of the Capital Commission can’t write her own language?” “Didn’t she just auction off a piece of her calligraphy at a charity gala a few months ago? How is that possible?” “Mrs. Blackwood will say anything to get out of paying a bill, won’t she?” Dominic quickly interjected, “My wife misspoke in her haste. She simply injured her hand recently and is unable to write. She grew up in the Vaughn household, surrounded by art and literature. Of course she can write. She’s known for her beautiful, delicate script.” “Then let Mrs. Blackwood write her name for us,” I said, stepping forward from the back of the crowd. I smiled at him. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Blackwood? That would clear everything up, wouldn’t it? And everyone would be satisfied.” “The Director’s wife is a renowned calligrapher, and the Vaughns are a family of scholars. Their daughter could write by age three, and her calligraphy was winning national awards by five. Everyone knows this.” The crowd nodded in agreement. “Yes, just have her write her name. We’ll see for ourselves.” Dominic glared at me. “Who are you? This has nothing to do with you. This is a private family matter.” I took a step back. “I’m just speaking up for what’s fair. Is that not allowed?” The new Mrs. Blackwood hid behind Dominic. “Honey, I can’t write.” Then, remembering his excuse, she added, “I… my right hand is injured. I can’t hold a pen.” 4 I laughed. “Miss Vaughn was famously taught to be ambidextrous. If your right hand is injured, your left hand can write just as beautifully. Please, Mrs. Blackwood, don’t be shy. We would all recognize your script, even written with your left hand.” “That’s right!” someone in the crowd shouted. “You can’t have injured both hands! I saw you carrying something when you came out.” Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. I took another step forward. “Bea, bring me a pen and paper. Mrs. Blackwood, if you please.” “I once acquired a small piece of Ava Vaughn’s work at an auction,” I announced, pulling a folded piece of paper from my purse. It was a piece I had written myself at the café just moments before, and it was perfect for the occasion. “This is her handwriting. Let’s hope there are no discrepancies.” The paper was passed around, and the crowd saw that the elegant script matched the signatures on the receipts perfectly. All eyes turned to the woman hiding behind Dominic. “Mrs. Blackwood,” a voice called out. “It’s your turn.” Dominic’s face was dark with anger. He turned his fury on me. “Who the hell are you? Do you know where you are? Stop causing trouble and get out of here. This doesn’t concern you.” Bea stepped in front of me, her voice ringing out. “What are you doing, Dominic Blackwood? My cousin is just speaking up for these people. Are you trying to intimidate her because you don’t want to pay your bills?” “Is there no justice in this city? Is there no law?” The crowd surged forward, creating a protective barrier around me. “That’s right! Pay up! Or do you want to settle this in court?” The woman finally broke. “Stop shouting! Fine, I’ll write it!” A pen and paper were produced. She shakily scrawled two words: Ava Vaughn. The handwriting was atrocious. The crowd looked from her clumsy attempt to the elegant script on the paper I had provided. “Is that… from the same person?” someone asked, bewildered. I let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Mrs. Blackwood, you’ll do anything to avoid paying a bill, won’t you? Who are you trying to fool with that scrawl? Unless… Mrs. Blackwood isn’t Ava Vaughn at all. Then who are you?” 5 The woman’s face contorted in alarm. She stumbled backward, her voice rising to a shriek. “Nonsense! If I’m not Ava Vaughn, then who is? I am the daughter of the Director of the Capital Commission and the wife of Dominic Blackwood! Who are you to come to my husband’s company and spread such lies? Security! Get her out of here! Don’t let her filth up our property!” Security guards rushed out like wolves, ready to throw me out. Bea threw herself in front of me and was shoved violently to the ground. Dominic stood by, his voice laced with menace. “Causing a scene at my company for no reason. I’m very interested to find out what your real motive is.” The false Mrs. Blackwood advanced with the guards and ripped the mask from my face. When she saw me, a flicker of jealousy flashed in her eyes. Bea was restrained by several guards, shouting, “Let my cousin go! Do you have any idea who she is? When my uncle gets to Aethelburg, he won’t let you get away with this!” The woman slapped Bea hard across the face. “You little bitch. You have no right to speak in my presence.” I tried to get to Bea but was blocked. Rage surged through me. “Mrs. Blackwood, isn’t the Vaughn family known for its discretion and humility? Isn’t Ava Vaughn known for being cultured and reasonable? So this is what that means? Baseless accusations and physical assault?” A smug smile played on her lips. “I am Mrs. Dominic Blackwood. And who are you? I’ll be sure to have a talk with your parents about how they raised you. Have they taught you no manners at all?” “Since they haven’t, I’ll have to teach you a lesson on their behalf.” She took a step forward. I tried to move, but a guard pinned me from behind. The next second, a stinging slap landed squarely on my face. My cheek immediately began to swell. My entire life, my parents had never so much as laid a finger on me. And now I had been struck by this imposter? Bea’s eyes were red with fury. “Mrs. Blackwood, do you know who you just hit? You will pay for this!” The woman leaned in close, her voice a low hiss. “Pay? You’ve got a big mouth. What could you possibly do to me if I decided to carve it up right now?” I recoiled, shouting for all to hear, “You’re a fake! I am the real Ava Vaughn, and I’m calling the police!” The crowd erupted. Dominic, who had been watching from the sidelines, finally reacted. His expression changed as he grabbed the woman’s arm. I took the opportunity to break free from the guards, stumbling back a few steps. “Mr. Blackwood, you have a marriage contract with Ava Vaughn, yet three months ago, you married this woman and passed her off as me.” “I have one question for you. When you got your marriage license, was the name on the certificate Ava Vaughn?” Dominic’s face went white, and he took another step back. The woman stepped in front of him protectively. “My husband and I grew up together. What does any of this have to do with you?” I laughed coldly and pulled out my ID card. It had my photo, but more importantly, it had two words clearly printed on it: Ava Vaughn. “I’m calling my lawyer,” I announced. “I’m suing you for identity theft, for using my name to fraudulently marry into a wealthy family.” 6 The onlookers exploded. “No wonder her handwriting was so ugly! I was thinking, how could anyone not know how to write their own name?” “And now that I think about it, the Vaughn family wasn’t at their wedding. I thought that was strange at the time.” “The wedding was so small and cheap, too. I heard they only invited a few friends. I remember wondering why the heir to the Blackwood fortune would have such a low-key wedding!” The false Mrs. Blackwood dabbed her eyes with a silk scarf, tears streaming down her face. “Our families were joining in marriage. I didn’t want to be too ostentatious and attract negative attention to my father’s reputation. I never imagined that would become a weapon for you all to use against me…” “It doesn’t matter what I say now. You’ll only believe this… this random woman.” “Or maybe,” she said, her voice turning accusatory, “you’re secretly in love with my husband and you’re trying to ruin my reputation so I’ll be forced out with nothing! Miss, do you have any idea how important a woman’s reputation is?” “No one will believe me now. It seems the only way to prove my innocence is to die.” With that, she threw herself toward the glass doors of the building. The crowd gasped. “Darling, what are you doing? Why would you do something so foolish over some stranger who just appeared out of nowhere?” Dominic cried, catching her in his arms. She collapsed against his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Dominic’s eyes blazed with fury. He roared, “Security! Seize this woman who is spreading rumors and ruining my wife’s good name! I want to see just how bold she really is!” Bea broke free from the guards and threw herself in front of me again, only to be struck down by two burly men. One of them pinned her to the ground, slapping her face over and over. “You crazy bitch! How dare you cause trouble at the Blackwood estate!” 7 Two other guards moved to grab me. I pulled out a fountain pen and pressed the sharp nib against my neck. “Anyone who touches me is making a mistake. I am the real Ava Vaughn. If anything happens to me today, my father will be here in three days, and he will not let any of you off the hook.” The guards hesitated, afraid of causing a serious injury, and looked to Dominic for direction. Dominic’s face was livid. “If I don’t teach you a lesson today, people will think Dominic Blackwood is a pushover! My wife’s reputation will be in tatters!” “What are you waiting for? Grab her! If anything happens, I’ll take full responsibility.” Several men swarmed me at once. They seized me, and the pen scraped my neck, drawing blood. “You little girl, you have some nerve causing a scene in front of our house,” one of them snarled as he twisted my arm. The pen clattered to the ground. The force they used nearly broke my wrist. I struggled against them. “Dominic Blackwood, if you so much as touch a hair on my head, my father will make you pay when he arrives! I’m not slandering her! She is an imposter!” A cruel smile touched Dominic’s lips. “Let’s see if your father gets here in time to save you.” “Slap her,” he commanded. “Slap her hard. Let’s see if she dares to spread rumors again!” “Oh, that’s too much. She’s just a young woman.” “Quick, record this! Post it online and show everyone how the Blackwoods operate above the law!” “What are you all standing around for? Call the police!” “That poor girl looks so delicate. This is going to be brutal.” I fought with all my might, but it was useless. Two guards held me fast. “Hit her,” Dominic ordered. Smack. Smack. Two sharp slaps landed on my face, and it immediately began to burn and swell. Bea, her face pale, screamed, “Don’t you dare hit my cousin!” My mouth was covered, and I could only make muffled, desperate sounds. Dominic stared at me, his eyes cold. “You need to be taught a lesson. Hit her!” Two guards raised their hands, preparing to strike me again. Just as I braced for the blow, a powerful voice thundered from a distance. “Stop! I’d like to see who dares touch my daughter!”

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I’m a sign language teacher. After I was unexpectedly pulled into the world of a novel, I found myself married to the disabled heir of a powerful Greenwood dynasty. He was non-verbal. My skills were a perfect match. When he signed that we should sleep in separate rooms, I ‘interpreted’ it for the staff as, “All of you, get out.” When he signed for them to throw me out, I told them, “He says to bring me an extra lobster tail.” He’d get so furious his hands would become a blur, but I’d just ‘read’ his signs and make up whatever I wanted. This went on until one day, a line of text floated before my eyes— [LMAO, the poor side-character has no idea the male lead is just faking it, does she?] My knees buckled, and I scrambled, practically crawling, for the door. The next second, a hand gripped the back of my neck, and I was hauled back. A low voice purred in my ear. “Losing interest in our game already, wife?” 1 My name is Kara. Three days ago, I was a sign language teacher at the Starlight Special Education School. Today, I’m a character in a trashy novel. The “Kara” in the book is the daughter of the CEO of AAA Construction Supplies. Her dad is, to put it politely, more ambitious than he is successful. As for the man I’m supposed to marry… Dominic Blackwood. He’s the eldest son of Hamilton’s powerful Blackwood Corporation, with a face that belongs on a magazine cover. Six months ago, he was in a car accident. His legs were crippled, his vocal cords were damaged. He was confined to a wheelchair, a mute. The cause of the accident was a mystery, but Dominic’s younger brother, Vincent, seized the opportunity to take over most of the family business. To top it all off, Dominic’s fiancée, Isabelle Devereaux—Hamilton’s premier socialite—promptly broke off their engagement and got engaged to Vincent instead. Tsk. The Blackwood family matriarch, heartbroken for her eldest grandson, sent out an offer to the city’s elite: Any family willing to offer their daughter in marriage would receive a fortune in dowry. My father, operating under the principle that only an idiot passes up a good deal, immediately contacted the Blackwoods. “I have a daughter! She’s willing!” When he came home, he tried to convince me. “You’ll be the first lady of the Blackwood family, living in a mansion, driving luxury cars.” My mother chimed in with her own brand of wisdom. “Most husbands pretend to be deaf and dumb after they get married anyway. With this one, you get to skip the ‘pretend’ part.” By the time I was transmigrated into this body, the engagement was already set. There was no backing out. I thought about it and decided to go along with it. For two reasons. First, Dominic Blackwood was undeniably gorgeous. I’d seen photos of him from before the accident. His features were so perfectly symmetrical they looked like they’d been sculpted. Second, I was a professional sign language teacher. Living with a man who couldn’t speak? This was my home turf. My specialty. On the day we signed the papers, Dominic sat in his wheelchair, dressed in a sharp suit, his expression completely blank. He raised a hand and slowly formed the words in sign language. “I will never like you.” I just smiled at him. I don’t care if you like me. I’ve always enjoyed a challenge. 2 On our wedding night, in the master bedroom of our new home, Dominic sat on the edge of the bed, his face as dark as a thundercloud. He raised his hands and signed. “We will sleep in separate rooms.” I turned to the butler and the maids standing by the door and offered them a pleasant smile. “Mr. Blackwood says you may all leave for the night. Please get some rest.” The maids blushed and scurried out. The moment the door clicked shut, Dominic froze. His eyes widened, and his hands flew in a blur of motion. “That’s not what I meant!” I watched his hands intently and nodded with feigned sincerity. “I know, you’re just shy.” “It’s okay. I’ll take the lead.” He tried to push himself up from his chair, but his legs wouldn’t obey. He collapsed back into the seat. I took a step forward. He flinched back. The wheelchair hit the edge of the bed, leaving him with no room to retreat. I stood over him, looking down. The lamplight cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting his ridiculously perfect features. His cheekbones were flushed with anger, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. Beautiful. Ten times more beautiful than in the photos. I licked my lips. His fingers trembled as he signed. “What… what are you doing?” I smiled, my voice soft and coy. “May I?” Dominic didn’t have the strength to fight me off. The accident had damaged his spine, and his upper body strength was a fraction of what it once was. When I placed my hands on his wrists, his whole body went rigid. “Mr. Blackwood,” I whispered, leaning closer. “I know your legs don’t work.” “But… the important part… that still works, right?” His face instantly turned a deep shade of crimson, the blush spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. I decided to check the merchandise myself. “Oh,” I murmured. “The merchandise is perfectly fine.” With a face like that, the crippled legs were a bonus. It meant he couldn’t run off. He shook his head wildly, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out. “Go ahead and scream,” I said, then paused and chuckled at my own joke. “Scream your lungs out. No one will hear you.” Oh, right. He couldn’t. By the time we were finished, the sun was beginning to rise. Dominic lay on the bed, his eyes empty as he stared at the ceiling. The blanket had slipped down to his waist, revealing a canvas of marks across his collarbones. I propped my head on my hand and just looked at him. The more I looked, the more satisfied I was. He must have felt my gaze, because he slowly turned his head. His eyes were red-rimmed. He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but couldn’t. Finally, he turned away, his eyelashes trembling with a hint of moisture. That just made me like him more. Even if he were in a coma, he’d still be my handsome man. Hamilton’s most beautiful man was all mine. 3 The next day, I wheeled Dominic to the main Blackwood estate to pay our respects to his mother. Catherine Blackwood was a woman of impeccable breeding—elegant, poised, and known in her youth as one of the city’s most brilliant women. The moment Dominic saw her, he began signing frantically. “Make her leave. I want her to leave!” Catherine couldn’t understand sign language and looked to me for a translation. “What is he saying?” I smiled sweetly. “He’s saying, you mustn’t ever send me away.” Dominic whipped his head around to glare at me, his gestures becoming even more rapid. “I did not say that!” I continued to translate. “He says he likes me very, very much.” Catherine’s eyes filled with tears. She took her son’s hand. “Dominic, darling, of course I would never send Kara away.” “I was worried that because her family’s background is… modest, she wouldn’t be a suitable match. That you wouldn’t like her.” “To see you care for her so deeply, it makes me so happy.” Catherine ordered the staff to prepare a grand feast. I gently placed some food on Dominic’s plate. His face was grim as he signed, “Not hungry.” I turned to his mother. “He says he doesn’t like any of this.” Dominic was getting desperate. “I didn’t say that!” I turned back. “He says he’d like some garlic oysters.” Catherine clapped her hands together. “Oh! Of course! You’re newlyweds! You need to keep your strength up!” “I’ll have the kitchen prepare some right away! Several dozen for my dear Dominic!” A short while later, Dominic stared at a mountain of oysters, completely stunned. He sat up straighter, signing with more force than ever. “Mom! She’s lying to you! Make her leave! Make her leave right now!” I offered a helpful translation. “He says this isn’t enough.” “He says he’s going to give you three healthy grandsons.” The entire room fell silent. Catherine shot to her feet, her voice trembling with excitement. “Really? Did he truly say that?” I nodded. “Every word.” She threw her arms around me, sobbing with joy. “Ever since the accident, Dominic has locked himself away. I was afraid he would be like this forever…” “For him to say these things now… you must be a wonderful wife!” I patted my chest reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Mother. His main account might be down, but I’ll level up a new one for you.” Catherine was so thrilled she was practically dancing on the spot. She slipped a jade bracelet from her own wrist and onto mine. Then came the earrings. Then the necklace. “Someone! Bring me my ruby collection! It’s for my daughter-in-law!” I was dizzy from the sheer weight of the gold and jewels. I glanced over at Dominic. He was still sitting there. His face had turned a shade of green. On the way home, he signed furiously from his wheelchair. “Kara, you just wait.” I pushed him along, smiling brightly. “Of course, darling. I’ll be waiting.” “We can continue tonight.” His hand faltered. 4 I started to let myself go completely. Every day, I dragged Dominic into a new activity. I had a tablet filled with… adult films, and we worked our way through them, one by one. The first week, we covered Asia. The second week, we moved on to Europe and the Americas. Maybe the oysters were actually working. Once he realized resistance was futile, he started to cooperate. He would use his one good leg for leverage, and honestly, he was more than a handful. He had the stamina of a man in perfect health. The maids, blushing, had to change the bedsheets several times. Anyone would have to say it: the young master was disabled, but his spirit was strong. One afternoon, my friends invited me out for tea. When you have a husband this handsome, you have to show him off. I wheeled Dominic out of the house and to a dessert shop next to the mall. My friends gathered around, their eyes wide. “Whoa, so this is Dominic Blackwood? He’s even better looking in person!” “And with the leg, you know he won’t be running around on you.” “Plus, he’s a mute. He can’t say the wrong thing and make you mad.” The more they thought about it, the more perfect he seemed. Pushing him was getting tiring, and I wanted to go shopping with my friends. So I found a sturdy pillar near the mall entrance, locked the wheelchair’s brakes, and for good measure, tied him to it with my scarf. There. He wasn’t going anywhere. I crouched down to his level. “Darling, I’m just going to do a little shopping. You stay here and get some sun, okay?” Dominic stared at me in utter disbelief, his fingers trembling with rage. “Oh, don’t be so clingy,” I sighed dramatically. “This is girls’ time. What’s a man going to do, anyway?” When I came back from shopping, he was propelling himself forward with his hands, the wheels spinning so fast they were practically throwing sparks. The moment we got home, he started looking for a pen and paper. I reminded him sweetly, “I put the pen and paper away.” “It’s getting late. Let’s get down to business.” He pointed a shaky finger at me, then signed to the maids. “Get her out of here! Make her leave!” The maids looked at me, confused. I translated. “He says he’s so happy to be married to me that he’s giving the entire staff a three-month bonus.” “Thank you, Young Master! Thank you, Young Mistress!” The news spread like wildfire, and the whole household erupted in cheers. “The Young Mistress is an angel!” “The Young Master has been so much more cheerful since she arrived!” “They’re a match made in heaven!” Dominic was frozen in place, his hand still raised in mid-air. He started signing again, a frantic, blurry mess of motion. “That’s not what I meant! I didn’t say that!” Everyone stared. “Young Mistress, what’s wrong with him?” I smiled. “Oh, he’s just so excited. He’s doing a little celebratory flourish.” The staff whispered among themselves. “I never knew the Young Master had such a cute side to him.” “It’s an endearing contrast, isn’t it?” That night, Dominic finally resigned himself to his fate. Or maybe he’d just had too many oysters. 5 And so life went on. By day, I translated his sign language, making it as absurd as possible. By night, I translated his body, making it as pleasurable as possible. We were becoming quite the connoisseurs of action films. One evening, before the sun had even set, I was already dragging him toward the bedroom. He struggled, but I pushed him back down. “Don’t move.” I unbuttoned his shirt, examining him from every angle. “So beautiful.” His eyes were red with protest. I pulled out my tablet, found a newly downloaded film, and cued up a specific scene. “Darling, let’s try this one today.” He glanced at the screen, and his pupils dilated in shock. He shook his head frantically. I held him down. “Did you know? I got top marks in my equestrian class in college.” He struggled even harder. It was no use. I was much stronger. But just as I settled into position— A line of semi-transparent text floated in front of my eyes. It scrolled from right to left, like the comments on a livestream. [Wait? Who is this evil side character? How did she end up sleeping with the male lead?] I froze. Another line appeared. [The male lead was saving himself for the female lead, and now this side character has forced herself on him. This is so tragic.] My hand stopped in mid-air. What was this? I rubbed my eyes. More comments streamed past. [Female lead, where are you? Your man is being ridden!] [The side character doesn’t know the male lead is faking it, does she? He’s already recovered his strength!] [LMAO, she’s still up there, bouncing away!] [Don’t worry. As soon as the male lead gets his company back, she’s the first one he’s going to deal with.] Get his company back? Deal with me? Faking it? My legs gave out. Dominic can hear? Then he— I looked down at him. He was looking right back at me. Usually, at this point, he would have turned his head away, his eyes red-rimmed, the very picture of a man being violated. But he wasn’t looking away now. He was staring directly at me, his gaze deep and unreadable. My legs turned to jelly. The Dominic Blackwood in the book was notoriously ruthless. In college, he had single-handedly turned three failing subsidiaries of the Blackwood Corporation into profitable ventures. His business tactics were so sharp that his name alone made seasoned executives tremble. If he had recovered… He could crush me like an ant. I let out a shriek and scrambled off him. I didn’t even bother with my clothes. I just stumbled and crawled toward the door. I only made it three steps before a hand clamped down on the back of my neck. I was lifted up like a kitten. “Wife,” a low voice murmured from behind me, tinged with amusement and a hint of huskiness. “Losing interest already?” My soul practically left my body. “D-Dominic… you’re better? When did you get better?” He chuckled softly. “A month ago.” A month ago??? Then all the things I’d done to him this past month… He was fully conscious for all of it??? I grabbed onto the doorframe for dear life. More comments appeared. [Did the side character figure it out?] [No way. This side character has an IQ of 5. She couldn’t possibly have figured it out.] [LMAO, she’s clinging to the doorframe like a scared quail.] I now understood three things. First, I was in a novel, complete with a comment system that only I could see. Second, according to the comments, I was an evil side character with an IQ of 5 who was destined to be disposed of by the male lead. Third, the male lead was standing right behind me, and I was only wearing panties. I quickly replayed the events of the past few weeks in my head. Tying him to a pillar in the sun. Telling his mother a string of blatant lies. Forcing him into nightly “equestrian practice.” Making him watch two full catalogues of adult films. My legs buckled with fear. “Mr. Blackwood… I suddenly miss my mom. I think I’d like to go home for a visit…” “It’s too late tonight,” he said. With one effortless pull, he hauled me back to the bed. “I’ll take you tomorrow.” “But for now—” He leaned over and retrieved the tablet from under the pillow. He navigated to the clip I had bookmarked. “Let’s continue.” I shrank back. “I… I don’t think that’s necessary…” “But wife, I thought you loved riding,” he purred, pinning me down. “What’s the matter? Scared now that I’m on top?” The comments exploded.

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