Adrian Wickham came to pick me up. The man who was always so cool and ascetic, so self-contained. He had let his new secretary sit in the passenger seat. And in that moment, I knew. This marriage wasn’t going to survive. 1 The day Adrian Wickham came to pick me up, I pulled open the passenger door and froze. A young, beautiful girl was sitting there, flashing me a sweet smile. “Hi, Mrs. Wickham!” She was polite, but she made no move to get up and offer me the seat. My eyes narrowed, my gaze shifting to Adrian. He was on the phone, his head down, completely oblivious to the silent, crackling tension. We were supposed to be going to an auction together tonight. I had been looking forward to our date, had spent hours getting ready, only to find someone else occupying his passenger seat—my seat. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Wickham. I’m Bella Locke, Mr. Wickham’s new assistant.” The girl’s lips curved into an enthusiastic smile, revealing two dimples that made her look exceptionally sweet. “I heard you were going to a private auction tonight, and I begged Mr. Wickham to let me tag along and see what it’s all about. Don’t worry, I won’t be in your way at all.” My heart plummeted into a cold, dark abyss. I knew this man, this coolly perfect man, better than anyone. He maintained a careful distance from everyone. He didn’t let people into his space easily. We had come together through an arranged marriage, a strategic alliance between our families. We had both considered our options carefully and chosen each other. Outsiders joked that I was signing up for a life of lonely nights with a man made of ice. But after we made it official, Adrian would hold me with a surprising warmth in his eyes. In moments of passion, the corners of his eyes would flush red. “You are my wife,” he’d once told me. “We are a unit. You are different from everyone else.” Today, it seemed, something had changed. 2 But I am not a shrinking violet who swallows her pride. I am Clara Shaw, and I’ve never had to second-guess myself when I’m angry. “Get out.” My voice was ice, leaving no room for argument. The girl stared at me, stunned. She clearly hadn’t expected me to humiliate her so directly on our first meeting. My tone must have been harsher than she’d anticipated, because for a moment, Bella looked completely lost. “I… I’m sorry, Mrs. Wickham.” Her voice trembled on the verge of tears as she scrambled awkwardly into the back seat. Just then, Adrian finished his call and looked over at us. He instantly realized I was furious. A look of weary indulgence flickered across his face. He leaned over and fastened my seatbelt for me. I noticed the seat had been adjusted. A wave of irritation washed over me, and I jabbed at the controls, moving it back to my precise settings. The whole ordeal left me simmering with rage. “This is infuriating! Who dares to adjust my seat?” The air in the car turned frigid. The girl in the back was so intimidated she didn’t dare make a sound. Adrian’s brow furrowed slightly. His voice was calm as he suggested, “If you’re not in the mood today, we can just go home.” In the rearview mirror, I could see the girl silently weeping. I felt a surge of profound annoyance. “Bella Locke, is it? I’m not in the mood anymore. You can get a taxi home. Mr. Wickham and I are leaving.” The girl’s face went pale. She glanced weakly at Adrian, but he made no move to rescue her. Utterly dejected, she got out of the car. 3 Adrian would never humiliate me in front of outsiders. He had always been a master of self-control. Which is why he suggested we go home. If there’s a problem, we solve it at home. That had been our unspoken rule for years. “She’s just a college kid, fresh out of school. Why are you making such a big deal out of this with her?” Adrian said, pulling me into his arms. “It was the first time.” He looked confused. “What was?” “In all these years, that was the first time you let another woman sit in your passenger seat.” He hadn’t realized that was what I was so upset about. Everyone in our circle knew how exceptional Adrian Wickham was. Countless women were infatuated with him, yet he remained aloof and untouchable, navigating a world of temptation without ever being swayed. A faint smile touched his lips as he ruffled my hair. “I can’t believe I finally made you jealous.” He leaned in to kiss me, his nose brushing against my cheek. “She’s my subordinate, Bella. That’s all. There is nothing, and there will never be anything, between us.” He cupped my face in his hands, his gaze locking with mine as he made his solemn promise. 4 A woman’s intuition is a powerful thing. Even though I had only met Bella once, my gut told me she had other ideas about Adrian. I thought my initial power play would be enough to put her in her place. I was wrong. The necklace from the auction—the one that was supposed to be mine—was around her neck the very next day. Kate, Adrian’s chief of staff, sent me a photo and a screenshot of a social media post. In the picture, the crescent-shaped diamond necklace rested against Bella’s pale throat, making her look even more delicate and lovely. Her eyes were swollen, but she had a triumphant little smile on her lips. She must have cried her eyes out last night and received a very generous consolation prize. The screenshot was of Bella’s post: [Mr. Wickham says that a girl has to be strong even when she’s been wronged! Wiping away the tears and getting back to work, sir! ] The post was accompanied by a picture of the necklace nestled in its box. For a moment, the blood in my veins felt like it was turning to ice. It’s embarrassing to admit, but her little stunt almost made me lose my composure. It was a disgusting feeling, like finding a smear of grime on a pristine white silk cloth. The impulse was so strong I almost jumped into my yellow Ferrari, floored it to 120 mph, and slapped her across the face. But then I looked at my own hands and thought, Am I really letting some cheap little schemer get under my skin? That’s beneath me. I made a call to my personal shopper at Hermès. Wendy’s voice was practically buzzing with excitement. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Mrs. Wickham,” she promised. “Even if I have to buy out half of New York, I’ll get everything you need and have it delivered today!” And so, that afternoon, before the workday was even over, every single female assistant to the executives at Wickham Industries headquarters, plus every woman in the general administrative office—a total of forty-six people, excluding Bella—received a generous gift from the CEO’s wife: A twelve-thousand-dollar Hermès necklace. Individually, they were nothing compared to the two-hundred-thousand-dollar auction piece, but the sheer volume of them sent a very clear message. Kate handled the distribution flawlessly. Each recipient was required to post a photo on their social media with a specific caption: [A gift from the boss’s wife! Mrs. Wickham says every girl deserves the best! Time to get to work! #BestBossWifeEver] The women were more than happy to comply. As assistants and admin staff, they were the nerve center of the company’s gossip mill. Who wouldn’t be thrilled to post about a gift like that? Some of the savvier ones even added their own commentary: [Mrs. Wickham really knows how to play the game!]. Individually, these assistants might not have had much power, but their collective ability to spread information was terrifying. Within half an hour, the entire company knew that the CEO’s wife had gifted them all Hermès necklaces. As for why, the corporate rumor machine was already in overdrive. Bella’s face was ashen. She looked deeply humiliated. With tears in her eyes, she fled to the restroom and took off the diamond necklace. Two colleagues who came in to touch up their makeup saw her and let out a knowing, derisive snort. Mortified, Bella kept her head down and hurried out, the sound of their unrestrained laughter chasing her down the hall. Her cheeks burning, she placed the necklace back in its box and returned it to Adrian, untouched. 5 Adrian had just finished a video call with a partner when he saw the girl, who had clearly been crying again, clutching the necklace box and staring forlornly at her feet. “What’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled. Bella’s tears started to fall before she could even speak. She sobbed softly, the picture of pitiable innocence. “Mr. Wickham, please take this back. I can’t accept it.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Adrian’s stern face. His instincts told him something had happened, but he didn’t press her. He simply watched her, waiting. Bella bit her lip, hesitating, before finally telling him everything that had happened in the office that day. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wickham. I keep causing trouble for you. I just posted that to encourage myself. I don’t know how Mrs. Wickham found out about it.” She sniffled pathetically. “I didn’t think she would get so angry.” She looked as helpless as a little white rabbit. “Mr. Wickham, I want to apologize to her. I can explain everything to her in person.” Adrian never looked at social media. His time was consumed by work. But as the CEO of a major corporation, he was all too familiar with the vicious rumor mill within its walls. His already stern expression grew even colder. “I understand,” he said, his voice low and heavy.

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A new law introduced the “Absolute Equality” marriage contract, and the internet exploded. I proposed to my long-term girlfriend, suggesting we sign up for an AE marriage. No expensive engagement rings, no dowries. We’d split the mortgage and car payments fifty-fifty, take care of our own parents, have two kids—one with my last name, one with hers—and split every single expense after the wedding, right down the middle. On the day we went to get our marriage license, a frantic man burst into the government office, screaming at the crowd, “Don’t do AE! Don’t do it! DON’T DO IT!” I scoffed. “What a simp.” The new era of Absolute Equality marriage was here, and I was going to be a pioneer. 1 I met my girlfriend, Mia, in a college club. She was confident and beautiful, I was outgoing and handsome. The attraction was instant. After a few dates, we naturally fell into a relationship. On our dates, I’d always offer to pay, but she’d insist on splitting the bill later. I’d try to refuse, but she was so persistent I couldn’t say no. I thanked my lucky stars for Mia. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was also kind, considerate, and—best of all—had her head on straight. Not that I was a slouch, either. I didn’t smoke, drink, or gamble. I was a good-looking guy. Mia had scored, too. My friends, especially my old roommates, were insanely jealous. Their girlfriends were drama magnets, constantly creating problems. Every holiday demanded a gift, and they were always getting angry over nothing. They never offered to pay for anything on dates, always expecting the guy to foot the bill. One of my roommate’s girlfriends even demanded a $10,000 “engagement gift.” It was outrageous. Did these women have any idea what a burden that was? It was like they were selling themselves. Compared to them, Mia was an angel. She was a firm believer in the new era of AE marriage: no grand gestures, shared mortgage and car payments, separate finances for our parents, a 50/50 split on all living expenses, and two kids, each taking one of our last names. In a world full of gold-diggers, I had found a real gem. I was determined to marry her. After graduation, I became a programmer at a tech company, making about $5,000 a month. Mia went to a media company as a content manager, earning around $3,000. Once our careers were stable, we started talking about marriage. To boost marriage rates and promote stability, the government had introduced a new smart chip. Once surgically implanted in the brain, the chip could monitor a person’s emotions and physical state, ensuring absolute equality between spouses. It was linked to our bank accounts and would automatically split all our expenses, which sounded incredibly convenient. Just as we arrived at the registrar’s office, a man burst in, looking completely unhinged, shouting, “Don’t do AE! Don’t do it! DON’T DO IT!” He was quickly silenced and dragged away by security. I snorted. “Pathetic.” I glanced at Mia, worried he might have rattled her. But thankfully, Mia was a woman of firm convictions. She didn’t waver. The AE marriage chip was free, a government incentive to get people married. It had been out for a few years with a perfect track record. Not a single complaint from any woman. After signing the papers, we were led to an operating room. I woke up three days later. I shook my head, feeling no different with the chip inside. There was a new app on my phone, linked to our genetic codes. We could type or speak to an AI assistant. We bought a house and a car at the same time, both with loans, with our families each contributing half of the down payment. Our wedding was simple but heartwarming. Mia was busy with her friends and family, and I felt a little awkward standing alone with my relatives. Usually, the bride and groom greet guests together. But we had agreed to split the wedding costs and keep our own gift money, so it made sense for her to focus on her side. Seeing her laughing with her loved ones while my own relatives whispered and shot me curious glances made me uncomfortable. I tried to act casual as I walked over to her. Mia gave me a strange look but then smiled and took my arm. To everyone else, we now looked like a normal couple. After we finished with her family, we naturally moved on to mine. Mia’s demeanor changed. Her lively energy was replaced with a quiet elegance. Her smile was reserved, her greetings polite and proper. I was a little annoyed by the sudden shift, but my relatives were full of praise, which made me feel proud, so I let it go. We agreed to alternate household chores month by month. We drew straws for the first month. Crap. I drew the short one. I rarely did chores, so I was clumsy at everything. I could never seem to mop the floor clean, and Mia would sometimes frown at the puddles I left behind, though she never criticized me. I didn’t know how to cook, and I got home late from work anyway, so we decided to eat out or order in. After we got married, the AE Butler automatically opened a new joint account and transferred $2,500 from each of our accounts into it, for a total of $5,000. The Butler explained that this money was for shared daily expenses. Every night at midnight, it would calculate the day’s spending, split it, and transfer funds from our individual accounts to replenish the joint one, keeping it at a neat $5,000. The money for takeout came from the Butler account since we were eating together. After ordering our food, I added a pack of cigarettes for myself and a bubble tea for Mia. Mia paused, then leaned against me, her voice sweet. “Honey, maybe I should drink less bubble tea, and you could smoke less? We need to save up to pay off our loans.” “Of course, of course.” Mia earned less than me, so she was under more pressure. I understood. I did a quick calculation. After my monthly loan payments and living expenses, I still had plenty of money left for myself. I didn’t have any expensive hobbies. Besides, after six months at my job, my salary would increase, and I’d get a raise every year as long as I wasn’t laid off. Mia’s situation was different; her salary was fixed. No wonder she was stressed. During dinner, Mia was watching an online course. She said she wanted to get a teaching certificate. “Why are you bothering with that? It’s a waste of energy. You might not even get a teaching job, and even if you do, the pay might not be as good as what you’re making now.” I didn’t get it. Studying for a certificate was time-consuming and difficult, with no guaranteed outcome. Why not just relax and play some video games after work instead of wasting time on something so pointless? Mia pressed her lips together and was silent for a moment before saying firmly, “I’m going to do it.” Fine by me. I didn’t push it. I wasn’t going to argue with her over something like this. We gave each other plenty of space. After dinner, I quickly cleared the table. Mia put on her headphones and focused on her lesson while I sat next to her, playing games on my phone. My new colleagues were amazing gamers, and it was a blast ranking up with them. Later that night, after we’d been intimate, I was drifting off to sleep when my phone buzzed with a notification: Transaction complete: $35.00 deducted. As a numbers-oriented guy, I was instantly awake. Something was wrong. Tonight, my meal was $10, Mia’s was $8. The cigarettes were $12, and the bubble tea was $5. The total was $35. A 50/50 split should have been $17.50 each! Mia woke up too. Her phone was on silent, but she picked it up and checked the message. She had only been charged $10.00. “Why was I charged so much more than you?” “I don’t know…” Mia seemed just as confused. “Even if the cigarettes were just on me, that’s still only $23.50. How did it come to $35?” I couldn’t figure out the calculation. I quickly opened the app and asked the AE Butler. The Butler explained that because I had eaten some of Mia’s food, but she hadn’t eaten any of mine, I had to pay for a portion of her meal. !!! This was ridiculous! We were married! Isn’t it normal for a couple to share food? Besides, I didn’t stop her from eating mine; she was the one who said it was too greasy! The Butler replied, “But you are an AE couple.” Whoever designed this chip was an idiot. It wasn’t smart at all; it was completely rigid. Mia, however, seemed to have figured something out. She let out a sigh of relief, lay back down, and went to sleep. I was helpless. The Butler’s programming was unchangeable. I just had to remind myself to be more careful in the future. The next day, I drove to work. Mia’s office was in the opposite direction, so she took the subway. I had offered to let her take the car every other week, but she said the subway was a direct line to her office and more convenient than driving. It was fine by me. I had to transfer if I took the subway, so driving was definitely easier. At the end of the month, it was time to make our loan payments. My share came out to $1,478. I asked the Butler again. What was the reason this time? Was I being charged more for using our shared car more often? The Butler replied: “The monthly car payment is $576, which is $19.20 per day, or $0.80 per hour. On workdays, you use the car for 12 hours, which amounts to $9.60 per day. The remaining 12 hours are split between you and Ms. Shaw, so your daily car payment is $14.40. The system detected that you worked 26 days this month. For the four days you did not use the car, your payment is $9.60 per day. Your total car payment for the month is $412.80. Your mortgage payment is $1,065.20. Your total loan payment is $1,478.” “That’s not fair!” I tapped furiously on the screen. “It’s our car! She’s the one who chooses not to drive it! I only drive it for work!” The Butler responded, “Ms. Shaw’s commuting expenses are also calculated separately.” I understood the logic, but it still felt wrong. If she wanted to take the subway, that was her choice, but the car was ours. She owned half of it. Why was I paying the lion’s share? Sometimes I really wanted to complain about this app, but there was no complaint button. The automatic payments couldn’t be canceled unless we got divorced, and I couldn’t unlink the chip. The next month, it was Mia’s turn for housework. Her company didn’t have overtime, so she got home early and had plenty of time. Mia was meticulous and loved to keep things clean. By the time I got home, the house was always spotless and bright. Dinner was on the table, cooked by Mia herself. She’d been wanting to stop eating takeout for a while. “Honey, you’re amazing! This looks delicious!” I gave Mia a big hug. But her reaction was lukewarm. She seemed a little down. I figured she was just tired. Women really are naturally talented at cooking. The simple dishes she made were incredible. I ate three huge bowls of rice. “It would be amazing to eat your cooking every day. It’s a waste of your talent not to cook,” I said sincerely. “You think so?” Mia’s reply was distracted. She was watching her online course while she ate. Seeing her disengaged, I lost interest and started scrolling through short videos on my phone. After dinner, Mia automatically went to do the dishes. I took a shower, got ready, and settled in for some gaming before bed. The next morning, when I saw the charge on my phone, I was once again baffled. On the expense list, there was an item for “Labor Fee: $10.” I asked the Butler, what labor fee? We hadn’t hired anyone. This charge was completely random. The Butler replied: “As you did not cook a single meal last month, cooking cannot be considered a shared chore within your AE marriage. Ms. Shaw’s monthly salary is $3,000. After deductions, her base salary is $2,200 per month, which works out to an average of $12.50 per hour. Cooking, grocery shopping, and washing dishes took a total of two hours. Therefore, you must pay Ms. Shaw $25, which is split between you at $12.50 each. This amount will be directly deposited into Ms. Shaw’s account.” When I saw the grocery bill, which was in the high double-digits, I knew it wasn’t that simple. I ate more, so according to the Butler’s twisted logic, I was paying the larger share. With the labor fee on top, it would have been cheaper for me to just order takeout. “Good morning, honey. What do you want for dinner tonight?” Mia had woken up and seemed to be in a great mood. “Whatever’s easy. Don’t spend too much time on it. You’ll be tired,” I said casually as I got up to wash. The sink was sparkling clean. “Tsk, she really puts in the effort…” I muttered to myself. That spot was hard to clean. I’d never even tried. Mia cooked every day, a variety of dishes, usually three dishes and a soup, catering to both our tastes. It was a bit more expensive, but her cooking was definitely better than takeout. At the end of the month, besides the extra car payment, I had another charge of $140, also listed as “Labor.” “Didn’t we already pay for the cooking every day?” Where did this charge come from? The Butler replied: “Ms. Shaw spent a total of eight and a half more hours on housework than you did. The hourly rate for a domestic worker in this city is $35 per hour. Therefore, a total of $297.50 should be paid to Ms. Shaw, which is split between you at $148.75 each.” ? That’s not right! I typed again: “Why isn’t it calculated based on Mia’s own hourly wage?” The Butler: “Housekeeping is not within Ms. Shaw’s professional scope of work.”

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For three hundred years, I walked the Path of Apathy, yet I fell in love with every man I met. The serene Hierophant, my stern Archmage mentor, my aloof senior knight, a roguish Warlock… But none of them wanted me. So, I decided to stop torturing myself and joined the Crimson Cabal, a coven dedicated to pleasure. But just as I was about to initiate my first carnal rite, the Hierophant himself dragged me from a bed draped in scarlet silk. A moment later, I found myself facing four pairs of eyes, all burning with a chilling frost. 1 The senior knight was the third man I’d fallen for. When I confessed my feelings to him, my Archmage mentor was standing right behind me. I shyly offered the knight an embroidered pouch I’d spent three days working on. His face remained a mask of cold indifference. “Sister, your focus should be on your training, not on matters of the heart.” Hearing this, I snatched the pouch back. If you don’t want it, I’ll save it for the next one. This embroidery stuff is hard work. “I understand, Brother,” I said, turning to leave. That’s when I saw my mentor, his face as dark as a thundercloud. His eyes were fixed on the pouch in my hand. I instinctively tried to hide it behind my back. Just two days ago, I had used this very same pouch to confess my feelings to him. Now, here I was, offering it to the knight, with my mentor as a witness. It was, to put it mildly, awkward. “Cora,” my mentor’s voice was quiet, but it sent a shiver down my spine. “If you continue this behavior, you will no longer have a place in this Order.” If I were cast out, I wouldn’t be able to see him or the knight every day. Even if I couldn’t have them, just seeing them was something. My knees went weak, and I dropped to the ground, my voice catching in a sob. “Master, I won’t do it again! Please don’t send me away!” A flicker of emotion crossed his face. “This time, I will let it go. Give me the pouch.” Reluctantly, I handed over the pouch that had now been offered to three different men. A faint pulse of magic emanated from his hand, and the product of my three days and nights of labor disintegrated into dust. Fine, I thought. I’ll just make another one. The senior knight was the third man to reject me. The first had been the serene Hierophant from the neighboring Sanctum. I had walked the Path of Apathy for three hundred years, but the first sight of him shattered my resolve. My only desire was to claim him. But he was just an oblivious holy man. I tried to seduce him in the sacred springs, wearing nothing but a sheer, gossamer wrap. I could have sworn I saw a faint blush creep up his bare, tonsured head. But he just squeezed his eyes shut, pressed his palms together, and chanted, “Lady Cora, please, conduct yourself with dignity.” His piety only fanned the flames of my desire. I moved closer, a dance of advance and retreat. I could feel his breath quicken, his eyelashes flutter. “Why not just surrender to me?” I whispered in his ear. “The Light guide me,” he murmured, before practically fleeing the springs. His wet robes clung to his body, revealing the faint outline of a perfectly sculpted torso. The image haunted me for days. I told this story to the proprietress of the tavern at the foot of the mountain. She burst out laughing. “Little enchantress, with your inclinations, you should have joined my Crimson Cabal.” I took a long swig of wine. “But I already have an Order.” 2 After being rejected by the knight, I found myself back at the tavern. The proprietress greeted me at the door. “Rejected again, little one?” My face fell as I nodded. She shooed away the other patrons and brought a flagon of wine to my table. “If you were to join my Crimson Cabal,” she said, her long, slender fingers, tipped with red lacquer, tilting my chin up, “no man in this world could refuse you.” I looked into her eyes, and my heart skipped a beat. Oh no. I think I’m in love with the proprietress, too. A moment later, clarity returned. “You see,” she purred, “that is the power of our secret arts.” I was tempted. But I couldn’t betray my mentor, my Order. When I first joined, I was just a child. He had told me I would be his only apprentice. I shook my head. The proprietress seemed to see my hesitation. She smiled. “Little enchantress, you’ll be back.” 3 When I returned to the Order, I saw my mentor standing before the Alchemist’s Spire, his white robes stained with blood. My heart seized. He was injured? But he was an Archmage of the highest circle. There were few in the world who could harm him. “Master, you’re hurt?” He glanced at me and shook his head, but his eyes were filled with worry. It was only then that I noticed that despite the blood, there were no wounds on his body. The injured person must be someone else. Just then, the head Alchemist emerged from the Spire. “It’s a good thing you shielded her heart with your magic,” the Alchemist said. “Otherwise, not even the Archons could have saved her.” My mentor finally let out a breath of relief. “Cora, go back to your quarters. Don’t cause trouble here.” I stared at him, dumbfounded. I was just standing here. How was I causing trouble? As he hurried inside, I grabbed the Alchemist’s arm. “Who is in there?” “A mortal woman. They say she saved Lord Kael’s life. A benefactor of the Order.” My mentor was an Archmage. How could a mortal woman have saved him? Filled with doubt, I returned to my chambers. My own training had been neglected for far too long. The Path of Apathy was not for me. I spent days in seclusion, trying to recapture the focus I once had, but it was gone. Finally, I stormed out of my chambers and went straight to my mentor’s hall. “Master!” The hall was empty. I went out into the courtyard. There, under a pear tree, I saw him playing a game of stones with a woman. The look he gave her was one I had never seen before. When he looked at me, it was always with severity, with disappointment. Never with such tenderness. I broke the piercing silence. “Master, who is she?” He looked up at me. “Cora, do not be rude. This is my savior, Elara.” So this was the mortal woman. She turned and smiled at me. “Cora thanks you for saving the Master’s life,” I said, giving a small bow. Then I rushed to my mentor’s side. “This is my apprentice, Cora. She is also your senior sister,” he said to Elara, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sister,” Elara’s voice was gentle and melodic, but it grated on my ears. I looked at my mentor and, for the first time, threw a tantrum. “Why didn’t you tell me? You said I would be your only apprentice.” “Do not be insolent,” he snapped, his eyes filled with disapproval. I knelt before him. “Master, please, take back your decree.” “My decisions are final.” “Master…” Elara chimed in. “If Sister Cora is unwilling, I can go to another Spire. It’s just… without you nearby, I would be frightened.” I ignored her saccharine words, stubbornly remaining on my knees. “She is simply undisciplined,” my mentor said, taking Elara’s arm. “That is why she has grown so wild.” And with that, he led her away. I knelt on the cold stone, a single tear tracing a path down my cheek. 4 I was just a child when he saved me from a beast’s maw. I clung to him for three years before he finally relented and took me as his apprentice, promising that I would be his only one. I had cherished that promise for three hundred years. I shed my magical protections, letting my mortal body bear the full weight of my vigil on the cold, hard flagstones. That night, snow began to fall. The flakes melted the moment they touched my skin. I knelt there for three days. He never came to see me. In those three days, he held a grand initiation ceremony for Elara. It was an honor I had never received. On the third night, I used my sword to pull myself to my feet. The senior knight was standing behind me. “Sister, don’t be willful.” He reached out to help me, but I dodged his hand. He was the one who broke his promise first. I limped down the mountain into the blizzard, letting the skills and spells he had taught me dissipate one by one. Just before I lost consciousness, I knocked on the proprietress’s door. When I awoke, the chill was gone, replaced by the sweet, cloying fragrance of a woman’s chambers. I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through my body. The proprietress’s voice came from behind the bed hangings. “Don’t move yet. Your legs were nearly crippled. You need to rest.” I looked down at my numb legs as the memories flooded back. “Mistress,” I said, “I want to learn the arts of the Crimson Cabal.” She laughed. “To cast aside three hundred years of magic just like that… you are a cruel one, little enchantress, even to yourself.” For three hundred years, I had trained day and night, just to avoid seeing disappointment in his eyes. The hardships I had endured were far worse than this. The image of his gaze on Elara flashed in my mind, and a bitter smile touched my lips. My three hundred years meant less than her few days. Once I recovered, I stayed at the tavern. I helped the proprietress with the guests and practiced my new arts. Within three months, my power had already surpassed the level I had reached after three hundred years on the Path of Apathy. Even the proprietress praised me as a once-in-a-millennium talent. Whenever she did, I would smile shyly and ask, “So, when can I perform my first rite?” “Have you found someone who stirs your heart?” I shook my head. In my time at the tavern, I had seen many handsome and powerful men, but none had moved me. “Then wait a little longer.” I was confused. Why did I have to wait for someone I desired? Was that a requirement for the Cabal’s rites? The proprietress beckoned me closer and whispered in my ear, “A carnal rite, at its core, is a matter of passion. Naturally, you should choose someone you desire. That is where the pleasure lies.” I nodded, not quite understanding. It was a pity. I hadn’t felt that spark in a long time. Until the day I saw the Warlock, Zephyr, dressed in crimson robes. And following him was none other than the Hierophant, Lyren. My heart, after a long silence, began to beat again. 5 When he saw me, Lyren looked away, pretending not to know me. “Wine!” the man in red called out. I brought over two flagons of the tavern’s strongest brew. Lyren looked incredibly uncomfortable as I approached, his eyes darting away. He made it seem as if there was some sordid secret between us, when all I had done was confess my feelings to him in the sacred springs. He had refused, and I had let it go. My target today was the man in red sitting across from him. I placed the wine on the table and filled a cup for him. My new skills were still untested, and as I poured, I unconsciously used the same subtle enchantment the proprietress had used on me. I saw his gaze grow hazy with fascination, and a sense of triumph swelled within me. The arts of the Crimson Cabal were indeed effective. The next moment, a strong hand pulled me away, and I let out a small cry. Lyren dragged me into the back courtyard before releasing me. “You are a disciple of the Order of Light. How can you practice these seductive, dark arts?” I was baffled. You can sit and drink with a Warlock, but you condemn my magic as dark? “I am no longer a disciple of the Order of Light,” I said coldly. It had been three months since I left. My mentor had never once tried to contact me. Instead, he had announced to the world that he was taking Elara as his final apprentice. I no longer wanted to be his disciple. It was a position I had begged for, and now, I no longer wanted it. Lyren’s eyes widened. “Do you know that desertion is a grave crime?” I shrugged. There was no one left in the Order for me to care about. If Kael ever came for me with his sword drawn, I would meet him with my own, and I would fight with all my strength. “Don’t tell the Order you saw me here. Otherwise, I’ll tell the world you saw me naked in the springs.” Lyren’s face flushed again. “I am not a gossip. But your presence here will not remain a secret for long, with or without my help.” Seeing that blush on his usually serene face sparked a wicked thought, but I suppressed it, mentally chanting a few prayers. A strange sense of morality surfaced. It was probably best not to mess with a holy man. But the thought of pulling the serene Hierophant from his pedestal was so tempting. I swallowed hard. Lyren seemed to notice and immediately adopted a posture of someone trying to avoid a venomous snake. Just then, the man in red, Zephyr, came looking for him. His tone was lazy, teasing. “Master Lyren, you were gone for so long. Were you having a secret tryst with a lover?” A new target. I shifted my attention from Lyren. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is a disciple of the Order of…” Lyren’s words trailed off as he remembered I had left. “Oh? The lady is of the Order of Light?” I walked over to him, my smile sultry. “I am no ‘lady’ of the Order.” Zephyr caught the hand I had placed on his chest. I feigned a cry of pain. “You’re hurting me.” “Your mannerisms,” he said with a faint smile, “are quite similar to those of my own kind.” To my eyes, he only grew more alluring. I realized, with a start, that I had fallen into his trap. When he looked at me, he had been using the same enchantment I had used on him. His earlier look of fascination had been a performance to fool me. Outplayed, I felt a surge of anger and stormed away.

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For my birthday, my friend gave me a designer handbag. When my roommate saw it, she couldn’t stop gushing about how generous my friend was and begged me to introduce them. I let her join a game with us, and then she pestered me to add her to our group chat. Just as I was about to add her, a line of text flashed before my eyes: [Don’t do it. The social butterfly roommate will take over your entire friend group.] [You’re about to be frozen out by both your friends and your roommate.] [In the end, you’ll die by suicide due to depression.] I slowly lowered the phone I had just picked up. And replied to her: “My friends don’t like playing with strangers.” 1 Seeing my refusal, my roommate, Susan, didn’t let up. “How do you know if you don’t try? I’m so good with people, I’m sure they’ll love me. My best quality is that I can get along with anyone.” Susan continued to sing her own praises, but my attention was fixed on the text floating in front of me. The social butterfly roommate will take over your entire friend group. Was that about me? Was Susan the “social butterfly roommate”? Frozen out by both your friends and your roommate? Whether it was real or not, I decided to be cautious. Ever since she saw the birthday gifts my friends gave me, Susan had been clinging to me, begging for an introduction. As an introvert, I hated having new people suddenly thrust into my friend group. I had already refused her twice. The third time, I was in the middle of a game when she started pestering me to join. My friends were urging me to get online. Suddenly, she leaned over and shouted into my headset, “Hi! I’m Leah’s roommate, and I love playing Valorant too! Can I join you guys?” My friends were in a hurry to start. “Sure, sure!” one of them said cheerfully. “We’re short one player anyway. The more the merrier!” Susan dominated the voice chat, shouting and laughing. Every time I tried to say something to my friends, her voice would cut in. I eventually just gave up and stayed quiet. After the match, she had the nerve to criticize my performance. “Leah, your skills are terrible. Don’t worry, I’ll carry you for a few more rounds.” “Add me to your group chat,” she demanded. “That way I’ll be online whenever you guys want to team up.” I hesitated. Just as I was about to give in, the strange text appeared. I changed my mind. “My friends don’t like strangers,” I said. But I should have known Susan’s “social butterfly” nickname wasn’t for nothing. I had just come out of the bathroom when Susan waved my phone at me triumphantly. “Leah, I asked your friends, and they all really like me! They said it’s fine for me to join your group.” My eyes narrowed. “Did you go through my phone without my permission?” She rolled her eyes. “I just borrowed it. If I had their contact info, I wouldn’t have needed to!” I was about to argue when another line of text appeared overhead: [Ugh, I’m gonna be sick. Taking something without asking is stealing. She’s really desperate to get into this friend group.] [Just watch. If Leah doesn’t add her, she’ll just do it herself secretly.] [That’s right. Tonight, she’s going to use Leah’s phone to add herself to the group chat, then claim Leah begged her to join.] Reading these lines, an idea began to form. I ignored Susan, took my phone back, and walked out of the dorm. She stomped her foot in frustration behind me. That night, I went to bed early. I hid my old phone on a bookshelf, positioning it to record the room, and left my current phone on my desk, pretending I’d forgotten it. In the middle of the night, I heard a rustling sound from under my bed. 2 Susan tiptoed over to my desk. She stood there for a long time before finally leaving. The next morning, with no classes, I was woken up by the incessant buzzing of my phone on the desk. I got up to wash my face, and when I unlocked my phone, my world came crashing down. Susan was chatting animatedly with my friends in the group. It had started with a picture she’d taken of me sleeping, which she’d posted in the chat. They were all making fun of me. It felt like having my privacy stripped bare in public. What hurt even more was that my three best friends were joining in on the laughter. Their lighthearted jokes felt like salt in a wound. Seeing that I was awake, Susan tagged me: “@Leah, our star has finally risen.” Furious, I typed back, “Why did you take a picture of me while I was sleeping?” Susan quickly sent back an innocent-looking emoji. “We’re all friends here. I just thought your sleeping position was funny and wanted to share it with everyone. It was just a joke, you don’t have to get so worked up!” What made me even angrier was that my friends started to placate me, all of them thinking I was overreacting. “We’re all friends, it was just a joke. Don’t be mad.” Seeing that everyone was on her side, Susan quickly added, “Leah, everyone got you such expensive gifts for your birthday because they really consider you a friend. It was just a little joke, and you’re having such a huge reaction. You expect everyone to be nice to you, but you can’t take a joke? That’s such a double standard.” Her words cast a chill over the group chat. Just as I was at a loss for what to do, the text appeared again. [The roommate is starting to gaslight her. She’s the one who was in the wrong, but she’s turning it all around on Leah.] [Leah, don’t doubt yourself. You’re not wrong. Your friends and your roommate are. She’s trying to make everyone dislike you by putting you down.] [This is the first step in her takeover of your friend group. By undermining you, she’s getting closer to your friends.] Despite my unease, I had started to doubt myself. Reading the text gave me strength. I replied coolly, “Shouldn’t friends respect each other? Don’t you need someone’s permission to make a joke at their expense? Besides, you used my phone to add yourself to the group without my permission. You’ve got some nerve.” The group went silent. Susan sent a crying emoji and explained, “Leah, you were the one who added me, remember? You must have forgotten.” I immediately sent the video I had recorded into the group chat. Susan started sending tearful voice messages. “I was waiting for you to send me Bri’s contact info, but you fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake you, so I just used your phone to get into the group.” Her damsel-in-distress act worked. My friends jumped in to mediate. [It’s fate! Leah, just let it go.] [Yeah, yeah, your friends are our friends.] [The most important thing is that we can all hang out together.] She seized the opportunity. “Besides, Leah, why were you recording in the dorm room? You just don’t trust me!” My friends chimed in. [Yeah, Leah, you were in the wrong on that one, too. Just drop it.] Susan exclaimed, “Exactly! I’ll be the bigger person and not hold it against you.” Seeing that they were all siding with her, I didn’t say anything more, but my heart had turned to ice. After that incident, I started to lurk in the group chat, rarely speaking. Susan, on the other hand, became incredibly active, constantly starting new conversations, acting as if she were the real friend to my friends. Every time they discussed something new in the chat, Susan would corner me in the dorm and talk my ear off about it, always ending with a jab: “Are you sure you guys were friends in high school? It feels like you have nothing in common with them. You don’t really fit in, do you?” I didn’t get angry. I was more curious to see how she planned to take over my friend group. Two weeks later, my friend Brianna’s birthday was approaching. Susan quietly asked me in the dorm, “Your friends got you a designer bag for your birthday. What are you getting for Bri?” Before I could answer, the text appeared again. [Be careful, Leah. Don’t fall into her trap. She’s going to swap the gifts to completely alienate you from your friends.] [The roommate has secretly gone through your phone and bought the exact same gift, but it’s a fake.] [After being framed, you’ll be ostracized by your friends. With the roommate’s added manipulation, you’ll be isolated at school too.] I turned to Susan and said with a smile, “I’m getting her the latest earrings from the new collection.” Susan quickly waved her hands. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me.” I was curious to see how she would manage to swap my gift. 3 In the dorm, I showed my roommates the birthday gift I had bought for Brianna. It was a pair of earrings, a wreath of green jade with jade feathers dangling below. Everyone gasped. “They’re beautiful.” Susan, however, was unusually calm. She was hunched over her desk, writing furiously. My other roommate, Yolie, nudged her. “Susan, look! These earrings are gorgeous.” Susan didn’t even look up. “I’m busy with a proposal for my club. Don’t bother me.” Yolie pouted and turned away. As everyone chattered, Susan kept her head down, but I could see her sneaking glances out of the corner of her eye. I suddenly had an idea. “Hey, let’s all go shopping. I’ll show you some even more beautiful jewelry, and I’ll treat you all to bubble tea.” Everyone was on board. Yolie called out to Susan again, but she just repeated that she was too busy. I put the earrings back in their box and placed it in my locker. I never bothered to lock it. My roommates and I went out for the entire afternoon, leaving Susan alone in the dorm. When we got back that evening, I opened my locker to change and glanced at the earring box. Sure enough, it had been opened. I casually asked, “Susan, Bri’s birthday is in a couple of days. Are you coming?” Susan readily agreed. “Of course! Bri invited me. We can go together.” The night before Bri’s birthday, I suddenly came down with a bad case of diarrhea. I was up all night, running to the bathroom more than a dozen times. The next morning, Susan helped me to the campus clinic. As I was getting an IV drip, she reminded me, “Leah, you’re in no condition to go today. Why don’t you give me the gift, and I’ll take it for you?” I was completely drained and weak. I had no choice but to tell Susan to get the gift from my locker. After she got it, she even sent me a picture of it. On Bri’s birthday, the group chat was eerily silent. Usually, we’d be flooding it with pictures of the cake, the gifts, everything. I didn’t know what Susan had said, but the silence was unsettling. That evening, Susan returned, her face beaming with suppressed joy. The moment she saw me, she quickly wiped the smile off her face and looked at me with a hesitant expression. She came over to my bed and whispered, “Leah, Bri said the earrings you got her look like fakes.” “I think there must be a misunderstanding,” she continued, her voice full of concern. “Don’t worry. Think about it, maybe you got scammed.” “I didn’t want them to say anything in the group because I was afraid it would upset you. Why don’t you apologize to Bri later and get her another gift? Don’t let this ruin your friendship.” She looked so genuinely concerned. If I hadn’t known the gift had been swapped, I would have been completely fooled by her performance. I replied with feigned agitation, “That’s impossible! I have the receipt. The sales associate said they could be engraved, so I had them put the first letter of Bri’s name, ‘B,’ inside. I’m calling Bri right now, and we’ll go to the store to get them authenticated.”

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I’d been in love with Ethan Eriksen for five years. His brother, Liam, had been in love with Zoe Miller for just as long. Then, on New Year’s Eve, I waited at the movie theater, but Ethan never showed up. Liam waited at the amusement park, but Zoe never came. Instead, what we both got was their relationship announcement, posted simultaneously on Instagram. Later, we huddled together. He said, “How about we just… make a go of it? We’re a known quantity, after all.” I was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.” And so began our mad dash—trying on wedding dresses, scouting venues, picking a date, writing invitations—all with the single-minded goal of getting married before they did. It was later, as I was dizzy from looking at venue after venue, that Ethan Eriksen knocked on my door. His jaw was tight, the rims of his eyes red as he asked me, “Are you serious? Are you really going to marry Liam? Have you really thought this through?” 01 On New Year’s Eve, I was standing in a mall on Central Avenue, watching the balloons being released outside, watching countless couples embrace in the falling snow. I clutched a movie ticket in my hand as a gentle flurry danced in the air. I couldn’t quite name the feeling. It was just a hollow realization that after all these years of loving Ethan, it was all coming to nothing. My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen. It was Liam, Ethan’s younger brother. The message was short: She didn’t show either. I had grown up with Ethan and Liam. Later, I fell for Ethan, and Liam fell for my roommate, Zoe. We’d made a pact: he’d help me, and I’d help him. A tragic comedy, really. On New Year’s Eve, he was stood up by Zoe, and I was stood up by Ethan. I let out a slow, shaky breath and was about to leave when Liam called. The background was noisy, but his voice, though clear, was rough and hoarse. “Did you see their Instagram posts?” A cold dread washed over me. My hand hovered over the screen, frozen. It felt like if I tapped that icon, everything would shatter. But I did it anyway. It was New Year’s, so my feed was flooded with couples’ photos. I only had to scroll a little before I saw it. For a moment, confusion eclipsed the heartache. The photo they’d both posted was an old one, from high school. In it, Liam and Zoe stood on the school’s athletic field, smiling and flashing peace signs at the camera. They both looked so genuinely happy. Ethan rarely smiled like that in photos with me. And Zoe had never wanted her picture taken with Liam. Zoe was my high school classmate. We became roommates when she was having trouble at home and decided to board at school. I was going through a rebellious phase myself, so my parents asked Ethan and Liam to bring me things from home. That’s how Zoe got to know them. But when… when had they fallen for each other? And why did Liam and I feel like two utter fools, moths drawn to a flame that was never meant for us? I couldn’t speak. Something was caught in my throat, a painful, suffocating lump. Liam was still on the line, silent. Finally, he spoke. “Are you still at the theater?” “Yeah,” I managed. “Wait for me. I’ll buy new tickets. We’ll go watch it.” “Okay,” I replied. It was a humiliating night, but at least I had someone to share the humiliation with. That made it a little less painful. While waiting for Liam, I didn’t try to piece together the clues I’d missed. My mind was just… empty. I didn’t cry. It all just happened too fast. I don’t know how long I waited, crouched by the entrance until my legs went numb. Finally, I saw him on the escalator. He’d dyed his hair a fiery red a few days ago, saying it was for a prosperous new year, a sign of good things to come. I had wanted to dye mine red too, but since he beat me to it, I’d settled for a milky tea-brown. He spotted me and quickened his pace. I waved a weak hand at him. “Give me a hand. My legs are asleep.” Liam pulled me up and studied my face. “Not bad,” he said with a half-smile. “No tears.” I hammered at my tingling legs, the pins-and-needles sensation a weirdly sharp relief. “You either.” “Eh,” he waved a dismissive hand. “Come on, let’s go. We’ll be late.” We both tacitly agreed not to talk about it anymore. After the movie, he drove me home. It wasn’t until I had washed up and was ready for bed that I saw the message from Zoe. Mia, Ethan and I are together now. Are you mad? I closed my eyes, a wave of irritation washing over me as I lay in bed and typed back a single, flat word: No. Who she was with was her business, even if it was Ethan. But I had considered her a friend. I had giddily shared every moment of my youthful crush on Ethan with her. And she had never said a word. She just let me chase him for years, only for them to get together in the end. Grief and anger swelled in my chest. I wasn’t mad that it was her with Ethan. I was mad that she had never told me she liked him too. What was she thinking all those times I’d shared my feelings with her? Was she laughing at me, at my pathetic, one-sided devotion? Suddenly, she felt like a stranger. A terrifying one. A reply came back instantly, as if she knew exactly what I would say. Oh, Mia, I’m so sorry. I’m so glad you’re not mad. I wanted to tell you, I just… I just didn’t know how to start… Her text was long. I exited the chat and unpinned her from the top of my list. Her last message came through: Mia, do you want to get barbecue at that place on Central tomorrow? I knew what it was. A test. To see if I was really angry. But our friendship was over. Whether I was angry or not, what she thought no longer mattered. No thanks, I’m pretty tired. Going to bed. A few moments later, another message came. Not from her, but from Ethan. I was the one who pursued Zoe. I liked her first. Mia, I hope you don’t blame her or take your anger out on her. How could I explain it? I used to love Ethan so much, the kind of love that filled my entire being, threatening to spill over. But now, in a single night, it had curdled. A wave of nausea washed over me. This couldn’t have been a sudden thing. They couldn’t have just suddenly fallen for each other. They had watched Liam and me like we were clowns in their private circus, enjoying our devotion, only to turn around and say, Thanks for liking me, but I don’t like you back. I could accept any outcome, but I couldn’t accept that the person I had loved for so long was, in reality, a complete piece of shit. I didn’t reply. Instead, I screenshotted both messages and sent them to Liam. You get one of these? A moment later, he sent one back. It was from Zoe. The gist was: Thank you for liking me all these years… Liam: Tell me something, Mia. In five years, how did she never once mention she liked my brother? We’re not that pathetic, are we? We wouldn’t have kept chasing them if we knew they liked each other. A five-year chase. A much longer crush. Me: My bad luck for meeting them. But I don’t want to see them ever again. Which means I’ll probably see them tomorrow. And then I’ll have to say it’s fine, it’s okay, and it’ll all be fake, but they won’t be happy until they hear it, so they can feel better about themselves. As I typed, a surge of frustration hit me. I wanted to delete them, block them, erase them. Liam: Same. My brother just knocked on my door asking if I was asleep. I didn’t answer. It’s just exhausting. I’m not even that sad, I’ve been chasing her for so long I can accept it. It’s the ‘why them’ that stings. How could they do this to us? Suddenly, an idea sparked in my mind. A second later, Liam was calling me. We’d been like that since we were kids—partners in crime, our wild ideas often syncing up perfectly. “You know…” I started. “What if we…” he said at the same time. I pursed my lips. “You go first.” “Ahem.” Liam cleared his throat. “How about we just… make a go of it? We’re a known quantity, after all.” I was silent for a beat. I knew he couldn’t see me, but I nodded anyway. “Okay.” “And,” he added, “we’ll get married before they do.” “Don’t worry,” I said. “Leave it to me.” 02 I never knew Liam could be so efficient. Last night, I couldn’t squeeze out a single tear to mourn my wasted years, wondering if my affection for Ethan had already withered away during those hopeless years of pining. This morning, early—and I mean early—my mom was knocking on my door like a SWAT team raid, each knock louder than the last. “Mom, what are you doing so ear—” I opened the door, hair a mess, my complaint dying on my lips as she clamped a hand over my mouth. “Honey, you… you need to get washed up and come downstairs. Now.” I blinked, my eyes heavy with sleep. “What’s wrong?” “Your boyfriend is here to propose,” she whispered excitedly in my ear. My mom was always nagging me to date and get married, even threatening to set me up on blind dates. Seeing Liam here today, asking for my hand, was probably the happiest she’d been in years. “Huh?” The words shocked me fully awake. No way. I crept to the landing and peered downstairs. The living room was filled with familiar faces, and on the coffee table were velvet boxes that glinted under the crystal chandelier. I showered, did my makeup, and changed in record time before heading down. Liam’s mother saw me and beckoned me over with a warm smile. “Mia, sweetheart, come have some breakfast. Your uncle and I picked it up from the dim sum place.” Then she turned to my mom, her expression apologetic. “Susan, I’m so sorry for showing up so suddenly. We must have startled you.” “Oh, don’t be silly! We’ve watched these two grow up. If they want to join our families, I couldn’t be happier!” “Exactly,” my dad chimed in. “Our families know each other inside and out. We don’t need all that formal nonsense.” Liam was wearing a formal suit, his hair slicked back, sitting ramrod straight. “You work fast,” I whispered, sliding into the seat next to him and taking a bite of a shrimp dumpling. He leaned in. “Well, I saw that my brother wasn’t home. I figured if he came with us to propose, it might be… awkward for you.” I just raised an eyebrow and said nothing. Our parents were already enthusiastically planning the wedding. “I think the fifth of next month would be a lovely day. The almanac says it’s perfect for a wedding.” “Oh yes, a perfect date!” “Great, it’s settled then…” Liam and I stared at each other, stunned. “Why are they in a bigger hurry than we are?” I mouthed. He leaned close to my ear. “They’re probably both terrified we’ll back out.” Suddenly, that made perfect sense. My mom was always sighing dramatically, “Why are you young people so against getting married these days?” 03 The following weeks were a whirlwind of trying on dresses, scouting venues, and writing invitations. Ethan and Zoe went on a trip to Seabrook, posting a new picture to their story every day. They looked deliriously happy. While I was waiting for Liam to change into a suit, I found myself staring at a picture of them with a vast ocean in the background, a little dazed. The truth was, Liam and I had planned a trip to Seabrook a long time ago. I had even told Zoe about it. Seabrook was a coastal city, and when I saw a travel blogger’s video of it, I’d immediately sent it to her. I had wanted to go with him for my birthday. But then Zoe sprained her ankle, and I’d stayed to take care of her, so the plan was postponed. I never imagined the two of them would end up going together. “What are you looking at?” Liam emerged in a tailored black suit, a gentle smile on his face. I didn’t hide it, just turned the phone so he could see. He was buttoning his jacket. As he looked up, I said, “Let me help.” Once the buttons were done, he finished looking at the photo, set my phone down, and asked, “Do you want to go?” I shook my head, then nodded. “Yes.” Even though Liam and Ethan were twins, once you got to know them, they were easy to tell apart. Ethan was the type who couldn’t be bothered with people, always aloof, superior, and impatient. Liam, on the other hand, had his mother’s eyes. They crinkled when he smiled, bright and beautiful. He was sunny and emotionally steady. “It’s not because they went,” I said, my gaze firm. “I’ve wanted to go for a long time.” Liam gently guided me toward the mirror. “Okay,” he said softly. “I know.” In the full-length mirror, we looked like a perfect couple, a match made in heaven. A sales associate stepped forward at the perfect moment. “You two make such a handsome couple.” “What do you think of this one? Do you like it?” he asked, leaning down slightly. I thought for a moment, chewing on my lip. “I don’t know… it doesn’t feel quite… breathtaking.” I made a small pinching gesture with my fingers. “It’s missing that little something.” Liam couldn’t help but chuckle, his eyes sparkling like starlight under the crystal chandelier. “Sir, Ma’am, are you happy with any of these gowns and suits?” the store manager asked, noticing our hesitation. She considered for a moment before speaking. “We actually have a new collection of gowns arriving from overseas in a few days. Would you be able to wait?” “I promise you, these are truly exquisite pieces. We have the designer’s sketches, and I can walk you through the concepts.” “Would that be convenient for you?” I looked at Liam questioningly, and he nodded. I smiled at the manager. “Yes, that would be great.”

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Our breakup was ugly. In the year he loved me most, I took three million dollars from his mother, terminated our pregnancy, and betrayed him. He knelt outside the operating room, crying and begging me not to be so cruel. He said he would hate me for the rest of his life. Six years later, we met again. He had a beautiful, well-connected girlfriend, and they were about to be married. And I, a complete wreck, had to find him and ask to borrow money. He forced me to come to his wedding, to watch with my own eyes as he married another woman. He asked me, “Do you regret it?” What he didn’t know was that I had been raising our son alone. And that our son was sick. He was dying. 1. Six years after we broke up, I ran into Ian Ross again at the lowest point of my life. It was a class reunion. No one expected Ian to show up. Someone joked, “Mr. Ross never keeps in touch. What brings you to the reunion this year?” “Did you hear Chloe was coming? Still thinking about her, came to find her?” Sitting in the corner, my back went rigid. I looked up and saw Ian, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes cold as he stared at me. Everyone knew how much Ian used to love me. He was the rich young master of a powerful family, but for me, it was love at first sight. That year, he cut ties with his family, gave up his power and his money, and fought like hell just to be with me. We lived in a tiny apartment, sharing a single bowl of ramen, a single bowl of congee. Life was hard, but we were happy. Every night, we’d hold each other, our fingers intertwined, and swear we’d be together forever. Until I got pregnant. His mother offered me three million dollars to get rid of our child and leave him. That day, Ian knelt outside the operating room, pounding on the door. Over and over, he cried and begged me, “Chloe, my sweet Chloe! I’ll work hard, I’ll make money, I’ll provide for us. I’ll make so many millions, and they’ll all be yours to spend, okay?” “Please, I’m begging you, don’t leave me. And don’t leave our baby…” I lay on the operating table, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood, trying not to let a single sob escape. Through that thin door, I heard Ian say he would hate me for the rest of his life. 2. No one knew how ugly our breakup had been. Someone pushed me toward Ian, laughing as they did. “Mr. Ross used to love Chloe so much he would have died for her. How could you ever let her go?” Everyone was jeering, calling for us to get back together. Ian’s best friend shot me a look, a sneer playing on his lips. “Ian can have any woman he wants,” he said suddenly. “Who the hell is Chloe to think she’s unforgettable?” He told everyone that a new woman had been with Ian for three years. A woman who was gentler, more beautiful, and a much better match for Ian than I ever was. They had been together for three years, all the friends called her “sis-in-law,” and rumor had it, they were about to be married. The laughter died down. Only Ian’s friend was still smiling as he invited everyone to the wedding. He tossed an invitation at me. It hit my face before falling into my lap. I looked down and saw Ian’s name next to another girl’s. Her name was Grace. Even the name sounded lovely. I imagined she was more sensible than me, sweeter, better at caring for him. She wouldn’t always be making him miserable. It had been six years. To see him again after so long, to know he was doing well… that was good. I fought back the tears that threatened to fall and looked up at Ian. “Congratulations,” I said. He stared at me, his gaze intense. When he heard my words, a cruel smile spread across his face. He crushed the cigarette in his hand and said flatly, “Chloe, don’t bother coming to the wedding.” “My fiancée will be upset if she sees you. And I don’t like it when she’s upset.” I clutched the thin, red invitation, my mind blank for a moment. Then I smiled and nodded. “Okay,” I whispered. 3. That day, everyone said it seemed like Ian really didn’t love me anymore. No one could have guessed that after a love as deep as ours, he would be getting married, and the bride wouldn’t be me. Everyone had assumed he would wait for me forever. Now, they were all buzzing with curiosity about this girl, Grace, and what made her so special that Ian would be so captivated, so devoted to her. I knew Ian didn’t want to see me again, so I left the reunion early. On the way home, a friend sent me a picture of Grace. She looked pure and sweet. I heard she had a lovely laugh and a playful, coquettish side—exactly the type of girl Ian adored. My friend texted me: Chloe, don’t you think she kind of looks like you when she smiles? Do you think Ian still loves you? Is it really over between you two? I let out a slow breath, silent for a long time before typing back with a smile, It doesn’t matter. I don’t care anymore. I didn’t want to be entangled with Ian ever again. And I thought, he will never know that I hid it from everyone and secretly gave birth to our child. That our son was sick. He was dying. 4. This was the hardest, most destitute year of my life. I worked myself to the bone, desperate to earn enough money to get my son the best medicine, to ease his pain even a little. For money, I could swallow my pride and show up at a class reunion to hit up old acquaintances. For money, I could work at a high-end lounge, drinking with clients until my stomach bled. I thought that reunion would be the last time I ever saw Ian. But a few days later, the girl named Grace found me. She must have heard that people thought we looked alike and wanted to see for herself. She came to the lounge with a few friends and specifically asked for me. One of the girls sized me up. “So you’re Chloe? Ian’s first love?” Her eyes were filled with contempt as she took in my heavy makeup, her expression screaming one word: filthy. I clenched my fists, trying to keep my temper in check. I just wanted to get this over with. “Are you ordering drinks?” I asked. If not, they were wasting my time, and my time was money. The girl seemed to take my directness as an insult. “What kind of attitude is that?” she snapped. “I’m talking to you, are you deaf? Don’t be so ungrateful.” She pointed to a bottle of hard liquor on the table. “Fine, Chloe. You like money, right? Finish this bottle in one go, and I’ll give you two hundred thousand dollars.” Drinking that entire bottle would land me in the hospital. Grace feigned concern, trying to calm her friend. “We agreed we were just coming to see her, not to give her a hard time, right?” she said sweetly. “I know everyone says she’s good at seducing men and told me to be careful. Even Ian said I’m too naive and that she might bully me.” She smiled a serene, innocent smile. “But I’ll be fine.” I listened to her, and I understood. She was here to show me how much Ian loved her, and how much he despised me. I smiled back, saying nothing, and turned to her friend. “We have a deal? I drink this bottle, you give me two hundred thousand. Right?” Then, I picked up the bottle and started chugging. Everyone froze, stunned that I would actually risk my life for money. Grace grabbed my arm. “Chloe,” she whispered, her voice full of pity. “How can you degrade yourself like this for money? As women, we have to have some shame. I didn’t want to say this, I was afraid of hurting you, but… Ian hates women like you the most.” I finished the bottle, fighting back the searing pain in my stomach, and cut her off. “The money?” “What Ian likes or hates has nothing to do with me. I just want the two hundred thousand you promised.” Grace frowned, looking at me with disappointment. “Honestly, Chloe,” she said in her soft, delicate voice, “two hundred thousand is nothing to me. I could give it to anyone. But I can’t give it to you. You can blame me, but I’m doing this for your own good. I can’t watch you fall any further…” Her friend gave me a shove. “I was just messing with you,” she laughed. “I’m not giving you a dime. What are you going to do about it?” My face was cold, but I started to laugh with her. Then I raised my hand and smashed the empty bottle on the table. Shards of glass flew, and one piece sliced across Grace’s leg, drawing a line of red. Tears instantly welled in Grace’s eyes. The noisy group of women fell silent. The next second, the door to the private room swung open. Ian was standing there, his gaze like ice. I froze, unable to meet his eyes. He had seen me like this—caked in makeup, drinking with men, forcing smiles for money. I wasn’t afraid of what anyone else thought of me, but I never, ever wanted him to know how much of a wreck my life had become. But even that small wish was denied. I forced myself to look up, to pretend I didn’t care, and watched as Ian strode over, gathered Grace into his arms, and gently wiped away her tears. Then he turned to me, his voice low and dangerous. “Chloe, who do you think you’re bullying, right in front of me?” “You want money? Fine. Apologize first.” Watching him protect her, I remembered a time, long ago, when he had protected me just like that. I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to grovel, to make Grace happy. Fine. For the money, I would do anything. Grace, hiding in Ian’s arms, shot me a triumphant, secret smile. I looked at the cut on her leg, then picked up a large piece of broken glass and dragged it across my own arm, hard. I held out my bleeding arm, my voice calm. “Give it to me. Two hundred thousand.” Ian stared at me, and his eyes suddenly went red. Grace saw his expression, and her smile faltered. She pulled a card from her purse and pressed it into my hand. “Chloe,” she said softly, “I’m giving you this money today not because I owe you anything, but because I don’t want to be like you, making such an ugly scene over a little bit of cash.” I was done with her noble act. I took the card and turned to leave, but Ian grabbed my arm, yanking me back. He snarled my name, his teeth gritted. “Chloe, doesn’t that fucking hurt? Will you die if you don’t have money?” The way his brow was furrowed, he almost looked like he cared. I wrenched my arm free and turned back, a cold smile on my face. “I’ve always been a woman who loves money, Ian. Didn’t you know?” “Mind your own business. And control your woman. Don’t come looking for me again.” 5. Ian stared at me, his eyes terrifyingly cold, like he wanted to devour me whole. My words must have reminded him of the past—how he had given up everything for me, only for me to abandon him for money. The pain in my stomach was excruciating. I didn’t want to argue anymore. I turned to leave, but suddenly my feet left the ground. The next second, Ian had thrown me over his shoulder. He was like some kind of bandit, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he carried me out of the room. Everyone stared. I struggled, screaming at him to put me down. He slapped my ass, his voice a low growl. “Chloe, I must have owed you in a past life for you to put me through this hell!” He tossed me into his car, leaning over me to pin my legs down, and grabbed my face. “Sometimes,” he hissed, “I really just want to kill you.” His expression was one of pure hatred, but his eyes… his eyes always seemed to be telling me he still loved me. I was in too much pain to speak, cold sweat beading on my forehead as I glared at him. Ian’s frown deepened. He opened the glove compartment, took out a stomach pill, and pushed it into my mouth. In the corner of the compartment, I saw it all: the tube of lipstick I’d used up but couldn’t bear to throw away, a broken hair tie, the childish pink barrette he’d once bought for me… It was a shrine to me. In all the years I was gone, these little things had kept him company. Tears streamed down my face. I turned away, frantically wiping them before he could see. After all these years, he still remembered my stomach problems. Even when I wasn’t there, he still kept medicine for me. And yet, I hardened my heart, gathered all my strength, and shoved him away. I forced a smile. “Ian, stop this, okay? This obsession is pathetic.” “You probably don’t know,” I lied, my voice dripping with scorn. “I’ve been married. I have a kid.” “You don’t still want to get back together, do you? Don’t be so desperate, Ian.” He stumbled back, frozen. As I got up to leave, he lunged, slamming me against the car door, his hand closing around my throat. “Chloe, I don’t believe you,” he choked out, his voice trembling with rage. “You’d better tell me you’re fucking kidding. Otherwise, I swear to God, I will kill you.” I looked him straight in the eye, my voice calm. “Fine. I’ll prove it to you.” I took Ian to the children’s hospital. It was nine p.m., but the lights in the inpatient ward were still on. I stood outside a room, and through the glass, I pointed to a small child reading quietly in bed. “That’s my son.” His name was Leo. He was my precious, beloved boy. He looked so much like me, but his personality was all Ian—thoughtful, gentle, with a stubborn, domineering streak. He had all of Ian’s best qualities. He was such a good kid. But he was sick. Nearly six years old, he was painfully thin and small, yet so brave it broke your heart. Ian stared at the boy for a long, long time. Then he clenched his fist and slammed it against the wall. He hung his head, and I thought I saw a tear fall. I had never seen him so broken. The last thing Ian said to me that night was, “Chloe, you’ve got guts.” He didn’t ask who the father was. He didn’t recognize his own son.

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After losing my memory, I forgot I was the villainess of the story. I sent a group text to my close contacts: [Sorry, I have amnesia. Who is this…?] Four messages instantly popped up on my phone. The aloof childhood friend I used to torment: [Is this some new way to torture me? Your food is downstairs. Remember to eat.] The loyal adopted brother I used to boss around: [Still mad at your big bro? Sent some cash to your card. I’ll be home tonight to hang out.] The cool heroine I used to prank: [Starting with the drama again? If you’ve lost your memory, go back to sleep. I signed you in for class.] Me: “?” Wait… was I the star of a ‘pampered princess’ story or something? 1. Doctors and nurses bustled back and forth in the hospital room, the air thick with the smell of antiseptic. I pushed myself up, my head swimming. Not far away, a doctor was speaking with a middle-aged man. “How is she doing now?” “Miss Sterling’s amnesia isn’t too severe at the moment. She’s just forgotten certain specific people…” Listening to their conversation, I froze. Amnesia? How could I have amnesia? “I don’t think I have amnesia!” I couldn’t help but interrupt. “I remember my name is Flora Sterling, my dad is Howard Sterling, and my mom is Clara Vanderbilt.” The middle-aged man turned to me, his voice patient. “Then do you remember my name, miss?” I nodded eagerly. “Of course! You’re my family’s butler, Uncle Lee.” The man was silent for a long moment, his expression complex. “Miss… I’m your family’s driver. And my name is Evans, not Lee.” Me: “?” He sighed and turned back to the doctor. “Thank you for your hard work. I’ll go contact her parents now.” From their brief chat, I gathered that I had accidentally fallen down a flight of stairs at the library and was brought to the hospital by a classmate after I passed out. Once they left the room, I finally came to my senses and started flipping through my phone. If it weren’t for my parents’ familiar names in my pinned contacts, I would’ve thought I’d picked up a stranger’s phone. Just then, two messages came in from a contact named “Cold-hearted Monster.” [Be downstairs in thirty minutes to get your takeout.] [I’m not wasting my time finding someone to bring it up to you.] I racked my brain but couldn’t place him. I could only ask: [Are you buying me lunch?] He replied almost instantly, every word dripping with sarcasm. [It is my duty to procure lunch for my lady.] [But next time, could you please give advance notice if you want something from off-campus?] [Otherwise, a thirty-minute wait in line might delay your mealtime.] Well, you’re certainly polite, I thought. But food wasn’t the priority right now. I quickly replied: [No need, I’m not eating today.] He was silent for a moment. Though I couldn’t see his face, I could feel a wave of irritation radiating from the screen. [Is this because the breakfast I brought wasn’t to your liking?] [So you’re angry again?] I rushed to explain: [No, it’s because I have amnesia qwq.] He shot back derisively: [Is this some new method the great Flora Sterling has devised to torture me?] Me: “?” Was I really that horrible? Afraid he wouldn’t believe me, I sent him a picture. [I’m not lying, I’m still in a hospital bed.] A long time passed with no reply. He had either fainted from anger or couldn’t be bothered with me anymore. I scrolled through our chat history. This “Cold-hearted Monster” was apparently responsible for getting my meals, picking up my packages, and buying me bubble tea. Sometimes, he even did my homework and let me copy his answers for exams. My attitude toward him, however, was far from friendly. My tone was bossy and demanding. A pang of guilt washed over me. How could I talk to a classmate like that? “Flora—” The hospital room door was suddenly flung open, and a boy rushed in. He wore a simple white t-shirt, his features sharp and handsome. Even the fingers holding the takeout container were long and elegant. I found myself staring. Some people might lose their memories, but their appreciation for beauty remains unchanged. My standards for my ideal type certainly hadn’t. I looked up at him and asked tentatively, “And you are?” His body went rigid. He pressed his lips together, his gaze dropping. “You don’t remember who I am?” I frowned, thinking hard. “Are you the Cold-hearted Monster?” His expression was complicated. “…My name is Christian.” Christian reached out as if to check the wound on my forehead. “You fell down the stairs? Is it serious?” Seeing me freeze, he stiffly lowered his hand, his tone turning cold again. “I’m not worried about you. I’m worried you hit your head and will try to blame it on me again.” His few words painted a vivid picture of my former selfish, willful self. My guilt deepened. Seeing me silent, he asked again in a low voice, “You really don’t remember me?” I answered honestly. “I don’t. But from our chat history, it looks like you’re the one who runs all my errands.” Christian: “…Not exactly.” I looked up, confused. He took a deep breath. “We’re childhood friends.” When I didn’t say anything, Christian added coolly, “And, of course, there was the childhood betrothal.” I was stunned. “What? But our chat history doesn’t look like that at all…” I thought he was just a classmate I didn’t know well. Christian let out a humorless laugh. “If it weren’t for that, who would willingly be your errand boy every day?!” “Who would go out of their way to buy your meals and save you a seat?” “But you just said it was your duty to get my meals,” I argued, confused. Christian lifted his eyes slightly. “Yes. Isn’t that the duty of a fiancé?” Just then, our driver, Mr. Evans, walked back in. He looked surprised to see Christian. “Christian? What are you doing here?” Christian stood up politely and greeted him with a smile. “I came to see her.” Mr. Evans was about to sit down when Christian’s next words made him jump back to his feet. “By the way, Mr. Evans, Flora doesn’t believe that we grew up together.” “Could you tell her? That we’re already engaged.” Mr. Evans’s eyes widened. “Huh?” He glanced at Christian’s perfectly calm face, then at my bewildered one. After a moment of profound consideration, he nodded with a complex expression. “Yes… that is indeed the case.” 2. The first person I saw when I woke up was Mr. Evans. He had been running around handling my paperwork and contacting my parents, so I had already developed a certain trust in him. And Christian didn’t look like he was joking. A secret joy bloomed in my heart. My ideal type had just transformed into my fiancé. I’ve hit the jackpot! It must be true, then. Even with amnesia, you still fall for the one you were always meant to be with. When Mr. Evans stepped out to take a call, Christian placed the food container on the small table and handed me a bowl and chopsticks. “Eat first.” I glanced at the food and smiled. “What a coincidence, these are all my favorites.” Christian ladled soup into my bowl, his voice even. “It’s not a coincidence. This is the menu you specifically requested this morning.” My guilt returned. “…Was it too much trouble for you?” Christian wiped his hands with a napkin, his tone detached. “It’s not just today that’s been a trouble.” “I’m used to it.” A wave of pity washed over me. I tugged on his sleeve. “Then let’s eat together?” Christian’s body stiffened. He rubbed his nose and cleared his throat. “I only bought one serving.” I was confused again. “Don’t we usually eat together?” Christian turned to look out the window. “…We do. I just… already ate today.” I didn’t doubt him and ate with peace of mind. While he was drinking some water, I chattered away between bites of food. “You know, Christian, the first time I saw you, I felt like I was starting to remember things.” He choked on his water, coughing violently, nearly losing his composure. “You’re remembering?” Christian’s voice sounded strange, losing the calm self-possession he’d had when he first arrived. I nodded. “Yes. The moment I saw you, I thought, we look so good together.” “It really must be because we’re engaged. You truly are my fated husband.” I grinned. “And even though I have amnesia, my standards for my ideal type haven’t changed.” “My dream husband is just like you.” Christian: “…” A faint blush crept up his handsome face, and the tips of his ears turned crimson. He shot up from his chair, nearly knocking over the table. Me: “?” Christian struggled to compose himself, but his flushed cheeks betrayed his true feelings. He held up his phone. “Uh… I just got a notification from my research group. I have to go back.” “I have to turn in some materials for my advisor this afternoon.” I was very understanding. “Then you should hurry back! I’m much better now. I’ll probably be fine after a little rest this afternoon.” Christian nodded, his voice softening. “I’ll come back to see you later tonight.” He practically fled the room. I couldn’t help but sigh. Being a grad student these days seems so tough. A message from your advisor is like a summons from the grim reaper. Mr. Evans returned just then, surprised to find me alone. “Christian left?” I nodded, smiling. “Yes. He said he’d be back later.” Mr. Evans looked relieved, then began to discuss the next steps with me. “The doctor thinks it would be best for a family member to come to the hospital.” “Your parents are abroad and can’t get back right away. Should I contact your brother?” Brother? I have a brother? Seeing my blank expression, Mr. Evans looked as if he expected it. He took my phone, tapped the screen a few times, and handed it back. “This is your brother.” I looked down. A profile picture of a beagle wearing sunglasses stared back at me. The contact name: “Human ATM” Our chat history was sparse, mostly consisting of transfer records from him. And whenever someone made me angry, he was the first to take care of it, with the speed of a paid subscription service. “Flora, you probably don’t remember, but Derek is your brother. Not by blood, he was adopted by your parents.” “He’s three years older than you and has always taken good care of you,” Mr. Evans explained. I understood. I sent a message to the contact. [Bro.] He replied almost instantly. With fifty consecutive question marks. I didn’t understand his surprise, but I dutifully typed on. [Are you free right now?] Human ATM: [Yeah! What’s up? Who bullied you again?] Human ATM: [Send me their info, I’ll go sort them out.] Human ATM: [Need cash? Sending it now.] Human ATM: [Also what did you just call me? Can you say it again TvT…] What a strange brother. And what a strange request. But I obliged him: [Brother, can you come to the hospital?] Another string of question marks appeared. Then, a voice call request popped up. I’ve always hated answering calls. Amnesia hadn’t changed that. I ruthlessly declined it. Human ATM: [? Why didn’t you answer? What happened?] Human ATM: [Is this a scammer?!] Human ATM: [Phone scammers can rot in hell. Give her phone back or I’ll end you.] Me: […Don’t want to answer the phone. Too lazy.] Human ATM: [Oh, it’s you.] Me: [I have amnesia.] Another row of question marks. It really fit his profile picture. Human ATM: [So do you still remember who I am?] I was getting annoyed. [Yes, you’re my brother, aren’t you?] Human ATM: [Yes, yes!! I’m your favorite brother!!] Please stop adding your own weird adjectives, I thought. I pretended not to see it: [If you have time, can you come to the hospital? The doctor wants to see a family member.] Human ATM: [Send me the address.] After sending the location, I added, fearing he might worry: [Don’t worry, it’s not serious.] Human ATM: [Okay, big bro will be there soon ^^.] I reassured him: [No rush, Mr. Evans is with me. My fiancé just came to see me too.] There was a moment of silence from his end. Then, a rapid-fire string of shocked question marks. Human ATM: [Fiancé?? Who the FUCK is he!!?]

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Good news: I hooked up with a total stud, an absolute god in bed. Even better news: We successfully became friends with benefits. Bad news: He’s my new boss. My world is ending. 01 “Again.” The scorching body behind me pressed close, a silent demand. “Still?” I managed, my brow furrowed. My mouth said no, but my body was a shameless traitor. I turned my head and crushed my lips against his. … Adrian Thorne and I spent the entire weekend tangled up in each other, day and night a blur of skin and sweat. It wasn’t until Sunday evening, with him still looking like a predator who’d gotten a taste of his favorite prey and was hungry for more, that I finally put my foot down. I scrambled around the chaotic mess of the floor, hunting for my clothes. “No way,” I said, my voice strained. “I have an early meeting tomorrow. I can’t be late.” I pulled on my pants, adding, “The new boss is starting. I need to make a good first impression.” He was sprawled on the bed, bare-chested and magnificent, a picture of lazy satisfaction. He sighed with genuine regret. “Fine. See you next week.” “Deal.” Monday morning, I walked into the office dressed to the nines in my suit, ID badge clipped neatly to my pocket. Jenna, my cubicle neighbor, immediately leaned in, her eyes sparkling with gossip. “Have you heard? The new CEO is supposed to be young and hot.” I couldn’t care less what he looked like. “I just hope he’s a decent human being,” I grumbled. Our last CEO was a real piece of work, treating us all like corporate drones to be worked to death. We’d all been praying for his transfer, hoping his replacement would be at least marginally better. In the conference room, the new CEO made his grand entrance to a wave of enthusiastic applause. As I looked up at the man standing at the head of the table, my world tilted on its axis. It was Adrian Thorne. My FWB. How could the world be this small? I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. The room was packed, so I prayed he wouldn’t spot me as I tried to shrink into my chair, my head bowed so low it was practically under the table. A sharp nudge to my wrist startled me. “Leo,” Jenna whispered, “Mr. Thorne is calling on you.” “Who’s Leo?” The words were out of my mouth before I realized my mistake. Then I heard Adrian’s voice, clear and commanding, call my name again. I sucked in a sharp breath and slowly, shakily, got to my feet. The moment he saw me, a flicker of undisguised shock crossed his face. I felt a hot flush of guilt creep up my neck. Because I’d told him my name was Finn. He stared at me for two long, meaningful seconds before his lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Leo,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, “this project is your team’s responsibility. Please, walk us through it.” 02 I gave the briefest report I could manage, and Adrian asked only two simple questions. The second the meeting ended, I bolted from the room as if the hounds of hell were on my heels. No joke, in that short one-hour meeting, I’d already drafted my resignation letter in my head. But then… the thought of the current economy, of my mortgage and car payments, hit me like a splash of cold water. I guess I could just plug my ears and pretend this wasn’t happening. For now. Jenna came back from the meeting completely star-struck. “Oh my god, Mr. Thorne is so handsome,” she gushed. “Having a hottie like that to look at makes being a wage slave almost bearable. I forgive the world for three seconds.” I chuckled. “Get a grip.” She continued her swooning. “Even in that dress shirt, you can just tell he has an amazing body. The testosterone is practically radiating off him.” Amazing was an understatement. It was phenomenal. And it felt even better than it looked. But the thought of the man who’d whispered an endless stream of dirty talk in my ear now being my big boss made me want to flee the planet. Just then, Adrian’s secretary clicked over in her heels. “Leo, Mr. Thorne wants to see you in his office.” I rose to my feet, feeling utterly dead inside. Couldn’t the Earth just explode right now? Please? 03 The spacious office offered a breathtaking panoramic view of the city through its floor-to-ceiling windows. “Mr. Thorne, you wanted to see me?” Adrian looked up from his computer, his eyes raking over me. “Leo?” “Yes, Mr. Thorne.” He arched an eyebrow. “Finn?” I played dumb. “I’m sorry, Mr. Thorne, who’s Finn?” A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. “Cut the act,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “There aren’t two people in the world who not only look identical but also have a mole in the exact same spot.” I blurted out, “A mole where?” He playfully tugged on his earlobe. Shit. I have a mole on my earlobe. A mole that this very man, now sitting before me in a crisp suit, was kissing just yesterday. My expression hardened into a mask. Adrian’s smile was pure mischief. “And Adrian Thorne is my real name, by the way.” …Was he throwing shade at me for giving him a fake name? Seeing there was no way out, I threw in the towel. “Well, Mr. Thorne,” I said with a strained laugh, “what a coincidence.” His eyes gleamed. “So, I’m the ‘new boss’ you were talking about.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low purr. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let you leave yesterday…” I held up my hands in surrender. “Mr. Thorne, please. At the office, let’s just pretend we don’t know each other. Strictly business, no personal stuff.” He nodded, though he looked a little disappointed. I fled his office like I was escaping a fire. 04 Adrian and I had a purely physical relationship. To put it bluntly, we were friends with benefits. It started six months ago. The straight guy I’d been crushing on for years finally got a girlfriend, and I went to a bar to drown my sorrows. I ended up sharing a table with Adrian. He seemed to be in a foul mood too, and some creep slipped something into his drink. Being the good Samaritan I am, I helped him out of the bar. But he wasn’t such a good Samaritan. He started getting handsy. Lost in the moment, seduced by his ridiculously handsome face, I found myself in bed with him. As I stared at that face, I figured, what the hell, and kissed him back. The first time was a bit clumsy, both of us fumbling in the dark. But we slowly found our rhythm, and we didn’t stop until the first light of dawn painted the sky. After that, we reached a mutual understanding. No feelings, just bodies. We’d meet up once a week. We were surprisingly compatible in bed. Every time we met, it was like we were trying to break the mattress. It was a welcome relief from my soul-crushing corporate drone life. We knew nothing about each other’s personal lives. I’d assumed he was just another working stiff like me—slaving away on weekdays and blowing off steam on weekends. I never imagined he was secretly moonlighting as a CEO. And a CEO was one thing, but the CEO of my company? Damn it! 05 For the first time in my life, I wasn’t looking forward to the weekend. Which, of course, meant it arrived at lightning speed. Adrian was swamped with work all week. The only time I saw him was a brief encounter at the coffee shop downstairs. I pretended to be on a call and avoided his gaze. On Friday, during my lunch break, I got a text from him. [Where are we meeting this week?] We usually mixed it up—sometimes a hotel, sometimes his car. Once, for a thrill, we even did it outdoors. I typed out the excuse I’d prepared. [Sorry, Mr. Thorne. I have to go home for my mom’s birthday this weekend.] Adrian: [Alright.] Adrian: [Didn’t we agree to keep work and life separate? Just call me by my name when we’re talking about personal stuff.] Oh, God. There was no way I could separate them. Not after seeing him tear into the lead of the adjacent team in a meeting that morning. “Did you come up with this proposal with your feet?” he’d asked, his voice dripping with ice. The atmosphere in the conference room had been cold enough to freeze hell over. The other team lead could only stand there, fuming silently. When it was my turn to present, I felt like I was walking a tightrope over a volcano. After I finished, Adrian’s only comment was, “The proposal is flashy, but have you considered if it’s even feasible?” … Does anyone understand my pain? Now I’m supposed to get into bed with this guy? I’d rather choose celibacy. 06 Another week passed. Adrian’s text arrived right on schedule. [Where to this weekend?] Me: [A friend’s getting married. I have to go to the next city over to be his best man.] Adrian: [No free time at all?] Was he that desperate? Me: [Yeah, the round trip alone is seven or eight hours.] In reality, there was no wedding. I was just a coward. Two weeks of celibacy was starting to take its toll. The craving was a constant, dull ache. On Saturday, I resorted to using some… toys at home. It helped, a little, but not much. My thoughts inevitably drifted to Adrian. The more I thought, the more heated I became. To cool off, I took a cab to the office to get some work done. Making money makes me happy, I told myself. But the moment I swiped my ID badge and the door clicked open, my soul shattered. Dear God, you really have it out for me. Why was Adrian also working overtime? He emerged from the breakroom, a cup of coffee in hand, and arched an eyebrow at me. “The next city over? Best man?” I forced a dry laugh. “The wedding was… uh, cancelled. Last minute.” Adrian let out a short, humorless laugh. He stated it as a fact, not a question. “Leo. You’re avoiding me.” 07 I sat frozen at my desk, plotting my escape. But Adrian, as if reading my mind, called my office line. “Come to my office. I want to go over the proposal with you.” Clutching a folder like a shield, I knocked on his door. It swung open from the inside, and a strong arm yanked me in. Adrian slammed me against the door and kissed me, fierce and demanding. At first, I struggled, pushing against his chest. But then, that familiar, intoxicating feeling washed over me. I became the aggressor, my hands tangling in his hair as the folder fell to the floor with a soft thud. Adrian lifted me into his arms and kicked open the door to the private lounge inside his office. White shirts and tailored trousers were soon discarded on the floor. Adrian’s seductive voice whispered from behind me, “I never thought I’d get to unlock the ‘office play’ achievement.” … I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at his floor-to-ceiling windows or his desk the same way again. The neon lights of the city twinkled outside. Without us noticing, the sky had turned dark. Damn you, Adrian Thorne. I came here to work! When he emerged from the shower, his chest was still glistening with water, dotted with marks I’d left behind. “The bistro downstairs is pretty good. My treat.” I picked up the crumpled folder from the floor. “I’m not hungry.” Just then, my stomach let out a traitorous growl. Adrian chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “Come on. We both worked hard today.” “…” Redefining the term “overtime.” 08 In the private room at the bistro, I ordered a feast. This place was expensive; Jenna and I only ever came here on payday. Adrian barely ate, placing pieces of food on my plate from time to time. “Mr. Thorne, please, you eat. Don’t worry about me,” I said, flustered. He paused, chopsticks hovering. “It’s after work hours. Just call me Adrian.” I couldn’t. It felt too weird. In the past six months, we’d occasionally eaten together, but it was always a quick bite in the middle of… other activities. This was the first time we were sitting down for a proper meal. It was just so, so strange. I buried my head in my food, eating ferociously to cover my awkwardness. After dinner, it started to rain. Adrian dangled his car keys. “I’ll drive you home.” I pulled out my phone and opened the ride-share app. “I’ll just get a cab.” Great. 100 people in the queue ahead of me. “It’s raining, you won’t get a ride,” Adrian insisted. “Let me take you.” I found myself sitting in Adrian’s Bentley. I’d opened the back door. He raised an eyebrow. “Am I your chauffeur?” I wouldn’t dare. I walked around to the front. “Let me drive.” Adrian laughed. “Get in the passenger seat.” The whole way, I was lost in thought. Choosing to become friends with benefits with Adrian was probably the most rebellious thing I’d ever done. I’ve always been someone who keeps my work and personal life strictly separate. Adrian only knew me in one context. He knew nothing else about my life. That’s why I could always relax with him. But now he was my boss. Could I ever be as uninhibited with him as I was before? What if our colleagues found out? I hated the unknown. Before getting out of the car, I mustered my courage and looked at him. “Mr. Thorne, let’s end this. We don’t need to see each other on weekends anymore.” He looked confused. “Why? Just because I’m your boss now?” Of course, I couldn’t say yes. I still had to work under him. “I just feel like it’s time to end this kind of relationship. It was never a long-term plan.” His expression darkened. I unbuckled my seatbelt and scrambled out of the car. To be honest, a part of me felt a pang of regret. I shook my head, forcing myself not to overthink it. It’s just my body, I told myself. It just misses his.

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In my past life, I stood before the gates of House Valerius, my belly swollen with child. My heart fluttered with a nervous hope as I looked upon Lord Alaric, a man who seemed carved from marble and starlight. “My lord,” I’d said, “I am with child. And the child is yours.” I got my wish. I became the lady of the house. Everyone said I was blessed by fortune. What they didn’t know was that from that day forward, Alaric never again set foot in my chambers. I learned later that he had been on the verge of marrying another, the very day after I arrived. Now, reborn, I stand before him once more. But before I can utter a word, he snatches the token from my hand. His voice is a blade of ice against my ear. “You will not say the child is mine.” “This time,” he hissed, “I will not marry you.” And in that moment, I knew. He had been reborn, too. Good. This time, I had no intention of marrying him either. 1 The Dowager Duchess, Lady Elara, followed him into the grand hall, just as she had in my past life. “Young woman,” she asked, her voice gentle but firm. “May we know the reason for your visit?” Alaric’s gaze was a physical weight, a silent, menacing warning. My eyes fell upon Lady Elara, and a wave of sorrow washed over me, so sharp it almost brought me to tears. If there was one person in my past life who had shown me any kindness, it was her. I bit my lip, the words catching in my throat. “My lady, I came seeking you.” She stilled, her eyes locking onto mine. After a long moment, her voice trembled. “Are you… are you Lyra’s girl? From House Thorne?” I had only learned the truth after entering their home in my previous life. My grandmother, Lyra Thorne, and Lady Elara were not only cousins but had been the closest of friends in their youth. But then, disaster struck House Thorne, and I was left an orphan. And I, it was said, was the very image of my grandmother. A fresh wave of grief passed over Lady Elara’s face. She sighed, her gaze shifting from me to Alaric, who stood silent and watchful. A sad smile touched her lips. “You children wouldn’t know, but there was an old pact between our families. A childhood betrothal between you and Alaric. But then… House Thorne fell, and we lost all trace of you…” Her eyes fell to my stomach. “And now you are with child. Who is the father? Why would he let you travel to the capital of Aethelgard alone?” I looked up. Alaric’s eyes were on me, cold and guarded. Six months ago, an accident. A night of fevered passion with Alaric, who had been drugged. He was gone before dawn, leaving behind only a whispered promise—“If you ever find yourself in trouble, seek me in Aethelgard”—and, pressed beneath my pillow, a silver signet marked with twin serpents. In my last life, he had married me, forced by the existence of his heir and the will of his grandmother. He lost his true love and condemned me to a lifetime of cold neglect. This time, he had already taken the signet, severing any link between us. Good. I had no desire to chain myself to him again. I heard my own voice, distant and steady. “The father of this child…” I paused, feeling Alaric’s stare. “I do not know who he is.” 2 The air in the room, thick with the scent of incense, seemed to lighten. Alaric’s rigid posture relaxed ever so slightly. The Dowager Duchess frowned, her gaze gentle but searching. “My dear girl… were you accosted by some brigand?” A bitter ache rose in my throat. I nodded, then quickly shook my head. That night was not of my choosing, but this child… this child was a choice I had made. At six months, it was far too late for any other path. Lady Elara fell into a thoughtful silence. “Do you recall any marks upon the man?” she asked finally. “House Valerius has some influence. Alaric could make inquiries for you. If he is a decent man, perhaps…” Alaric smoothly interjected, “Indeed. Lady Cora, if you need anything, you have but to ask.” He stood with his back to the light, a silhouette of feigned concern. His dark eyes, half-lidded, held a glint of something deeper. My mind was a whirlwind. “I believe… there was something on his shoulder,” I said, the words coming out before I could stop them. Alaric spun around, his eyes flashing with a sharp, veiled fury. Only then did I remember. He, too, had a small, crimson mole on his shoulder. A flash of a bare back, muscles tense in the moonlight, seared through my memory. “A birthmark,” I stammered, correcting myself. “A crescent moon.” He visibly relaxed and gave a slight nod. “Rest assured, Lady Cora. I will do everything in my power to find him. We will find you a worthy match.” He put a heavy, pointed emphasis on the last words, a clear message. I managed a bitter smile. I hadn’t realized just how desperate he was to be rid of me. In my last life, I had been too lost in my foolish joy to see it. 3 I was given rooms in the estate’s Serene Garden wing. The Dowager Duchess arranged for a master healer to attend to me, prescribing tonics to ensure the health of my child. The very next day, the lady of House Beaumont arrived to formally accept the betrothal between our families. The match was for her second daughter, Isolde. Alaric’s true love. Lady Isolde was a proud woman. In my past life, when she learned of my entanglement with Alaric, she had broken the engagement without a second thought. Now, with me out of the picture, they could finally have their happy ending. After seeing the healer out, I spent some time feeding the koi in the pond before heading back to my rooms. As I rounded a covered walkway, I came upon a familiar scene. In the courtyard, Lady Isolde sat on a wooden swing, her smile as sweet as summer wine. Alaric stood behind her, pushing her gently, his own eyes soft with affection. Isolde’s gaze drifted over and found me. Her smile faltered. Then, she lifted her chin, her voice carrying across the yard. “Alaric, my love, why is there a pregnant woman staying at your family estate?” Alaric’s eyes met mine, his face tightening almost imperceptibly. “She is the daughter of an old friend of my grandmother’s. We are merely offering her shelter until her child’s father can be found.” I gave a small nod of acknowledgement and walked away. Shelter. House Valerius was vast. His words were not about charity; they were a warning. He feared I would cause trouble and wanted me gone. Later that afternoon, before I could rest, a maid announced a visitor. Lord Alaric. His expression was dark, his eyes like polished obsidian pressing down on me. “You knew Isolde was here. Why did you have to show yourself? Or is this another one of your schemes to force me to break my betrothal?” I took a step back, shaking my head. “You worry for nothing, my lord. I have no such intention.” His brow remained furrowed. He stared at me for a long moment before speaking again. “I know you carry my child. I know you are unhappy that I will not claim you.” He took a breath. “But rest easy. Once Isolde is my wife, I will find a way to take you as my mistress. Until then, you will remain quiet and cause no trouble. If you do, do not blame me for the consequences.” He stood cloaked in light and shadow, his reflection a dark stain on the floor. The coldness in his eyes was sharper than I had ever seen it. I stared at him, my voice a painful rasp when I finally spoke. “You need not worry, my lord. I have no wish to marry you. Once the child is born, I will leave.” He let out a short, disbelieving laugh and said no more. I knew he didn’t believe me. After all, where could a ruined orphan like me possibly go? 4 After that, I avoided the main courtyards. If I happened to cross paths with Alaric, I would turn away. He seemed pleased by this, his demeanor toward me softening fractionally. A few days later, a messenger from the Dowager Duchess summoned me. She sat in a high-backed, mahogany chair, her expression strange. Her first words sent a jolt through me. “Cora, my dear. I know who the father of your child is.” I stumbled, nearly falling, but a steady hand caught my arm. “Oh, my heavens,” Lady Elara cried, patting her forehead in self-reproach. “Forgive me, I’ve frightened you.” My heart hammered against my ribs. Had she discovered the truth about me and Alaric? Once I was settled in a chair, she continued. “When you mentioned the birthmark, it felt familiar. I thought on it for days, and then I remembered. It was Lord Lucian Thorne, of the Obsidian Guard. I held him as a babe, just after he was born. I saw the mark myself.” She patted my hand, sighing. “Unfortunately, Lord Thorne is a… difficult man. Utterly ruthless. He cut ties with his own family after his mother’s death. People speak his name in whispers. He is not what one would call a good match.” My heart, which had just begun to settle, leaped back into my throat. The crescent moon birthmark… it was from a wounded soldier I had treated as a healer in the provincial town of Silverwood. I thought no one in the capital would ever know, so I’d used it as a convenient lie. I never imagined it would lead to this. Lucian Thorne. He was the King’s most feared enforcer, a notorious rival of Alaric Valerius. If he discovered I was pinning my child on him… I bit my lip. “My lady,” I said, my voice strained, “perhaps I was mistaken. The light was dim, it’s possible I saw it wrong…” She patted my hand again, a knowing smile on her face. “There, there. I know a young woman’s modesty. It’s too late for that, I’m afraid. I’ve already asked him. It was him.” My world tilted. “I gave him a thorough scolding,” she went on, “and told him you were with child. He was stunned for a moment, and then… he said he would marry you.” I stared at her, utterly speechless. “He… he said he would marry me?” “Of course!” Lady Elara nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Your belly is already so large. He cannot simply shirk his responsibility. He has agreed. He will have you wed as soon as it can be arranged.” My face went pale, my fingers twisting the handkerchief in my lap into a knot. “No,” I blurted out. “That’s not possible.” Lady Elara’s expression turned to one of disapproval. “Cora, House Thorne is noble, but he is a Lord of the Guard. For him to offer you the position of his lawful wife is a great honor. Do not let a moment of pride ruin this for you.” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Whatever his reasons, I couldn’t marry him. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone. She continued to persuade me. I fell silent, eventually giving a noncommittal nod. Very well. I would simply have to find an opportunity to speak with Lord Thorne myself and clear this up. 5 With Alaric’s wedding approaching, the estate was a hive of activity. Seizing a moment when no one was paying attention, I donned a veiled hat and went to the headquarters of the Obsidian Guard. I waited for what felt like an eternity until I finally saw a man matching the description, hailed as “Lord Thorne.” It had been so long, I barely recognized him. He wore the deep indigo robes of his office, his features sharp and his posture radiating a dangerous grace. He was a world away from the mud-caked, broken man I remembered. When I stepped into his path, he showed no annoyance. Instead, his dark eyes fixed on me with an unnerving intensity. I faltered for a second, then lowered my head. “My lord, the child I carry is—” “Not mine,” he finished for me, his expression unchanging. I looked up, my eyes wide with surprise. “You knew, and yet you still—” He met my gaze, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “I am not so far gone that I don’t know which women I have bedded.” “Then why would you agree to marry me?” His lips curved into a true smile, a dangerous light dancing in his eyes. “The Dowager Duchess Valerius found me,” he said, his voice a low, smooth drawl. “Told me I had sullied the descendant of her dearest friend. Said the lady in question had personally identified the birthmark on my back and demanded I make amends. I thought long and hard, and the only ‘Lady Cora’ who fits the description is a certain healer from Silverwood.” He looked at me then, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You saved my life, Lady Cora. A life for a life. A fair trade, wouldn’t you say? Your body for my name.” My eyes widened and I waved my hands frantically. “That’s not what I meant at all…” Seeing his amused expression, I realized he was teasing me. I pressed my lips together, my resolve hardening. I met his gaze directly. “I am grateful for your generosity, my lord. But if I were to marry you, it would be a disservice not only to the child’s true father, but also a great injustice to you. This was my mistake, and I have implicated you unfairly. If you are angry, direct it at me. But this marriage… it cannot happen.” The air went still. Lucian’s smile remained, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were deep, unreadable pools of chilling calm. Just as a cold sweat began to prickle my skin, he let out a long, slow sigh. “You do not wish to marry me. Very well. Your wish is granted.”

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The day my two daughters-in-law—who on the surface appeared to be pining for my sons’ affections but were in reality master shoppers—decided to fake their deaths, I grabbed them and refused to let go. “Not unless you take me with you.” They told me that the woman returning from abroad wasn’t just the one true love of my two sons, but also the daughter of my husband’s long-lost flame. The three men in my life were about to conspire to have me adopt her. According to them, I wouldn’t discover the truth until I was seventy. But I’m only fifty now. “To hell with that,” I spat. “Why should I suffer for another twenty years?” I decided to “die” on the very road those three were taking to “rescue” her. Let them live with the guilt forever. In the end, my husband, Howard, lost his mind. My two sons were consumed by regret. And my two daughters-in-law? They took me on the ride of a lifetime, a life of glorious, unapologetic indulgence. Ten handsome young masseurs surrounding us, kneading our shoulders and feeding us fruit. 1 I was fifty years old when I overheard it from my two daughters-in-law. The “one true love” returning to the country, a woman named Sienna Crest, was the daughter of my husband Howard’s old flame, Serena Crest. My daughters-in-law had decided it was time to bolt. My eldest son’s wife, Olivia, was dumping a torrent of diamonds, gold, and precious gems into a suitcase. “I refuse to end up like you, Mom,” she said to the other. “I want a divorce. You?” My younger son’s wife, Maya, was tapping away on her phone. “You’re leaving, I’m leaving. No way am I having sons who grow up to be obsessed with their father’s ex-girlfriend’s daughter. Let me just check how much I’ve managed to siphon off of Jack these last three years… Aha! A cool nine and a half million in my secret account. That should be enough for the two of us to live a little.” She looked up. “So, how do we do this? You think Jack and Adrian will just let us divorce them?” Olivia considered this. “If we ask directly, they’ll never agree. They’ll probably freeze our credit cards. You’d be sitting on a fortune you couldn’t spend a dime of. When Dad’s old flame, Serena, came back to town years ago, Mom asked for a divorce. He refused and froze all her accounts. She didn’t even have enough money for a rental deposit. Then she found out she was pregnant with the twins. For the boys, she had no choice but to stay. “But what she never knew,” Olivia continued, her voice dropping, “was that five years later, Howard started taking the boys on ‘business trips’ abroad. He said it was to ‘cultivate their business acumen from a young age.’ In reality, he was taking them to play with Serena’s daughter. He told our husbands to protect Sienna like she was their own sister. That’s why Adrian and Jack have been practically joined at the hip with her since childhood. “And now, according to the script of this ridiculous life, as soon as Sienna returns, the three of them are going to manipulate Mom into adopting her, showering her with affection. Where does that leave us? Our days of lavish spending and carefree living will be over. I say we fake our own deaths.” Maya instantly agreed. “I’m with you. I’m going to pack my valuables right now. All the jewelry and designer bags I bought with Jack’s money over the last three years will fetch a pretty penny. We won’t starve.” She turned to leave Olivia’s room and walked straight into me. I had been standing outside the door, listening to every word. Maya’s face went white. “Mom,” she stammered. “H-how much did you hear?” A chill ran down my spine, but my chest felt like it was on fire. I was a paradox of ice and flame. I clenched my fists. “Is it true? Everything you said? That girl, Sienna… she’s really Serena’s daughter?” Maya looked helpless, glancing back at Olivia. “What do we do now? She’s not going to tell Adrian and Jack and ruin our plan, is she?” I grabbed each of them by the arm, my grip like iron. “Oh, I will,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “Unless you take me with you.” 2 I thought back to last night, when Howard had wrapped his arm around me. “Darling,” he’d murmured, “haven’t you always wanted a daughter? A dear friend of mine in Europe passed away, leaving his only daughter all alone. She’s coming back to the States. Why don’t we adopt her? She could live with us, be the daughter you never had.” My sons, Adrian and Jack, had been there too, chiming in enthusiastically. “Yeah, Mom! Her name is Sienna. She’s amazing with adults. You’ll love her.” Ha. Oh, yes. Wonderful. The three most important men in my life were conspiring to stab me in the back. No wonder my eldest son, Adrian, had stormed home this morning and had a vicious fight with Olivia, grabbing her by the throat, his eyes bloodshot. “Sienna went missing right after her plane landed! Did you have her kidnapped?” I’d rushed in, telling him to let go, asking if there had been some misunderstanding. But Howard had pulled me aside, his anger even greater than our son’s. “What misunderstanding could there be? Olivia, tell us right now! Where did you take Sienna?” It all made sense now. Of course Howard was more frantic than his own son. Sienna was the daughter of his one true love. A flood of memories washed over me. I remembered a conversation between Adrian and Jack when they were five. “Daddy, can Sienna’s mommy be our mommy?” “I really want Sienna’s mommy to be our mommy.” “Then Sienna could be our sister and live with us!” “We want to play with Sienna and protect her forever.” I had asked them then, “Who’s Sienna?” I remembered Howard’s stern face as he reprimanded them. “Don’t talk nonsense!” Then he’d turned to me, his voice strained. “Just the daughter of a friend from abroad. She’s adorable, and these two rascals took one look and are already fighting over who gets to be her big brother.” I had ignored how his eyes darted away, how his voice was laced with guilt. How utterly laughable. I had sacrificed my career, my ambitions, everything, for these three men. And this was how they repaid me? I felt as if all the strength had been drained from my body. I swayed on my feet. I looked at my two daughters-in-law, who saw the world with such brutal clarity. When your man loves you, you shop. When he doesn’t, you pack your bags and go. In that moment, I felt like the biggest fool in the world. Fearing they would think I was too old and refuse to take me, I made a decision. “Howard has a safe in his study,” I said, my voice firm. “Inside, there are one hundred 500-gram gold bars. If you take me with you, I’ll go empty it right now. From now on, whatever you want to eat, drink, or buy, it’s on me.” 3 Their eyes lit up. They looked like they wanted to kiss my feet. Olivia spoke first. “Mom, honestly, we’ve wanted to team up with you and burn this whole script to the ground for ages. The truth is, we’re not from this world. Three years ago, my best friend and I were in a car crash and woke up here, married into the Hawthorne family. Some ‘system’ told me my mission was to win over the CEO brother, while she had to be the devoted fangirl to the surgeon brother. “But the story dictates that as soon as the real heroine, Sienna, returns, your sons will go completely insane for her. They’ll even convince you to adopt her. You’ve always dreamed of having a daughter, and Sienna is meant to fill that void. You’d spoil her rotten, buy her anything she wants. You wouldn’t find out who she really is until you’re seventy, and then you’d divorce him in a rage. But that’s no way to live. It’s better to wake up now and get the hell out.” Maya gritted her teeth. “She’s right, Mom. If you want daughters, let us be your daughters. We’ll show you how to live. With your money, we can find any young, handsome boy toy we want. The other day, Olivia and I went to a spa and hired ten gorgeous male therapists to wait on us. It was divine. We’ll take you next time. Isn’t that better than waiting on a stuffy old man?” She had a point. Good men were a dime a dozen. Why was I wasting my life on those three ungrateful wolves? My heart was a wasteland of ashes, but I managed a tearful smile. “Alright. I’m going to go clean out their secret stashes right now. And then, we’re faking our deaths.” 4 I went to the master bedroom to raid Howard’s safe. One hundred gold bars. I stuffed every last one into a large suitcase. As I grabbed the final bar, my fingers brushed against a hidden button. A secret compartment clicked open. Inside was an old photograph. The background was a breathtaking ski resort. There were five people in the photo. Two young boys were teaching a little girl how to ski. The two adults with them were a younger Howard and Serena Crest. In the photo, Howard was dashing, and Serena was young and vibrant, her long hair blowing in the wind. It was a candid shot. They looked like a perfect, happy family of five. I clutched the photograph, my world shaking, my hands trembling uncontrollably. This was worse, so much worse, than what my daughters-in-law had told me. A sharper, more vicious blow to the heart. So it was all true. I wanted to storm up to Howard, throw the picture in his face, and demand to know why. Why had he done this to me? It wasn’t me who had refused the divorce all those years ago. Why cling to me with one hand while secretly taking our sons on dates with his old flame? And turning my own sons against me, making them worship her daughter? It was disgusting. I felt sick. Suddenly, a low voice came from behind me. “What are you doing in my safe? Why are all the gold bars out?” 5 It was Howard. A jolt went through me. I couldn’t let him find out my plan. Before he could ask another question, I went on the offensive. I threw the photo at him, my eyes welling with tears. “What is this? Explain this to me! Howard Hawthorne, how could you do this to me?” His eyes flickered with guilt for a split second before his usual calm, authoritative mask settled back into place. “It’s just an old photograph, Eleanor. Don’t make a scene. It’s ancient history. Not worth mentioning.” Seeing my tear-filled eyes, he softened his tone. “If you must have an explanation, fine. Serena’s daughter had a rare form of autism back then. Her therapist said that interacting with her peers could help. I only took the boys to go skiing with them because I felt sorry for the child. That’s all. There was nothing between Serena and me.” He was still lying to me. If there was nothing between them, why hide the photo in a secret compartment of his safe? A sharp pain lanced through my heart. I fought back the tears. “I want a divorce.” Howard’s eyes widened in shock. “What did you say?” I zipped up the suitcase, my heart cold and empty. “I said, a divorce. I’ll take the gold bars, you can have everything else. It’s a fair deal.” He was so angry he used my full name. “Eleanor Hawthorne, have you lost your mind? I’m giving you one more chance. Take back what you just said.” No more chances. I laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. “I’m not the crazy one here. That missing girl you’re all so frantically searching for, that’s the girl in the picture, isn’t it? And you wanted me to adopt her? Howard, what is wrong with you? Are you even human? Since you want her as a daughter so badly, I’ll step aside. I’ll make way for her. Isn’t that what you want?” He panicked, grabbing me in a fierce, possessive embrace, just like when we were young. He snatched the photo from my hand, threw it on the floor, and ground it under his heel, as if that would prove his point. “See? I don’t care about this old picture. Stop this nonsense, Eleanor. Be good.” I shoved him away with all my might and slapped him across the face, hard. I was done being good. “Eleanor, get back here!” I dragged the suitcase filled with one hundred gold bars and ran like my life depended on it.

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