After school, my daughter climbed into the backseat of the car and pulled out a blueberry muffin. My husband’s face instantly darkened. “No eating in the car! Who taught you to be so undisciplined?” My daughter jumped, terrified. My husband stared at a tiny crumb that had fallen onto the leather seat, and his temper exploded. “You’re exactly like your mother. Absolutely zero class!” My hand froze on the door handle. Sitting in the passenger seat, his female assistant pulled her phone out of the latest season’s Chanel bag and checked the time. “Derek, the client is arriving soon. Let’s not delay business over something so trivial.” Derek threw a pack of tissues at my face. “Pick up every single crumb, then take an Uber home!” The car sped off, its tires splashing a puddle of dirty rainwater all over my clothes. I stood on the sidewalk holding my daughter’s hand. The damp wind blew against my freezing face. Back then, to help him keep up appearances for his business, I had used the inheritance my dad left me to buy that Mercedes S-Class in cash. I shook the muddy water off my coat and dialed my older brother’s number. “Lucas, I need to sell the Mercedes. As fast as possible. Also, that loan you were preparing to send Derek for his materials? Cancel it.” …… I waited on the curb for twenty minutes before finally flagging down a cab. The moment I opened the door, the stench of stale cigarette smoke and cheap leather hit me in the face. I instinctively covered my nose. The driver looked at me with open disdain. “It’s rush hour, lady. Cabs are hard to find. Are you getting in or not?” I swallowed my discomfort and lifted my daughter into the backseat. The driver lit a cigarette and started puffing away like we weren’t even there. “Excuse me, could you please put that out? I have a child in the car.” The driver looked me up and down through the rearview mirror. “You sure are demanding. If you want luxury, go drive your own private car. Don’t take a cab!” I kept the windows rolled down the entire ride, the biting wind making my eyes sting. When we got home, my daughter pulled out her crushed muffin and started scarfing it down. “Mommy, our school had a jump rope competition today. That’s why I got out two hours late.” “I won first place! I was just so hungry earlier, that’s why I…” I gently smoothed my daughter’s messy hair. “Chloe did amazing.” I took off my damp coat, washed my hands, and started cooking dinner. An hour later, Derek sent me a text. “I have to entertain a client tonight. Won’t be home for dinner.” I didn’t reply. After Chloe and I finished eating, I scraped the portion I had set aside for Derek straight into the trash can. I cleared the table, washed the dishes, gave Chloe a bath, tucked her into bed, and prepped her backpack for school the next day. By the time I finally lay down in bed, it was almost 10:00 PM. Derek texted again. “This client is a nightmare to deal with.” “But if we land this contract, it’ll cover the company’s losses from last year.” “Once this busy period is over, I’ll take you and Chloe to Disneyland this weekend.” I texted back: “Is Harper with you?” “Yeah. If she wasn’t here taking shots for me, I definitely wouldn’t be able to handle this guy.” I replied: “Drink less. Come home early. You still have to drop Chloe off at school tomorrow.” Two hours later, Derek texted: “I drank too much, can’t drive. I’m just going to crash at a hotel nearby tonight. Go to sleep.” I locked my phone screen. Three years ago, Harper joined his startup. Within three months, she went from an intern to Derek’s personal executive assistant. “Harper is highly capable. We need to keep her at the company.” “Harper lives really far away. It’s not safe for a girl to commute alone at night, I’ll drive her home.” “Harper sits in the passenger seat because it’s easier for us to discuss work.” …… I used to fight with Derek about it. I told him to fire her. He had just spread his arms, leaning back on the living room sofa. “I can’t. She is my right-hand woman in this business. I can’t function without her right now.” “Stop overthinking everything. Just stay home and take good care of the kid.” Derek said he couldn’t function without her. Derek and I were college sweethearts. On the first day of freshman year, we literally crashed into each other on the quad. I was about to snap at him, but when I looked up and saw his face, all my anger evaporated. It was love at first sight. I chased him for six months. On my birthday, he played his acoustic guitar and sang a love song just for me. He looked at me with such deep affection and leaned in to kiss me. We got married the day after graduation. Derek said he wanted to launch a startup. He wanted to give me a better future. He used the $15,000 his parents gave him to open a small studio. For two years, he practically lived in that studio day and night. He used the profits to put a down payment on a house for us. Then, Chloe was born. Derek held his daughter and promised he would treat her like a princess for the rest of her life. One night, he rested his head against my chest. “Babe, the company is in a critical growth phase. I need a luxury car to keep up appearances with investors. Could you…” I took the entire inheritance my dad left me and bought him that Mercedes. And then, Harper joined the company. I flipped my phone over. It was almost 2:00 AM. Go to sleep, I told myself. I have to drop Chloe off at school tomorrow. The next morning, on my way back from dropping Chloe off, I saw Derek’s latest Instagram post. “Nailed the contract! VIP Room at The Reserve tonight. Company dinner is on me!” Harper had commented with a playful, winking emoji. I sent Derek a text. “Company dinner? I want to come too.” The next second, my phone rang. “Nora, it’s not appropriate for you to come to a company dinner!” “I’m the boss’s wife. What’s inappropriate about it?” I went home and dug out my dusty makeup bag, applying a simple, clean look. I took off the faded jeans I wore every day. I tore through my entire closet, but I couldn’t find a single outfit suitable for a high-end restaurant. Forget it. I put the faded jeans back on. Derek and I arrived at the VIP room at the exact same time. He looked me up and down, didn’t say a word, and guided me to a seat in the far corner. The rest of the employees trickled in. Harper walked in wearing immaculate makeup, a tight mini skirt, and designer heels. She walked right up to Derek and sat in the empty chair directly between him and me. She placed her handbag on the table right next to my arm. I recognized it. It was the newest Chanel flap bag. It cost over $5,500. Derek raised his wine glass. “As soon as the new materials arrive, production starts! When this order is finalized, everyone gets a bonus!” Every face in the room lit up with smiles. Harper picked up her wine glass, but Derek gently stopped her wrist. “You worked too hard last night. I’ll take this drink for you.” The table immediately started teasing them. “Derek’s right! If Harper hadn’t held her liquor so well, we never would have closed the CEO!” “That’s our boss’s right-hand woman! Come on, let’s all toast to Harper!” Harper picked up a glass of warm water Derek had poured for her. “Oh, stop it. It was all for the company.” “Don’t flatter me too much, the food is getting cold. Let’s eat!” Our boss’s woman. Those words drilled into my ears. I looked up at Harper. Right on her collarbone, there was a very distinct, reddish-purple mark. I turned my head to look at Derek. The mark on his neck was even more obvious. Derek started peeling shrimp for Harper. One after another. Harper gave him a coquettish look. “Alright, Derek, that’s enough. I can’t eat anymore. Give some to Nora.” She scraped the shrimp from her plate onto mine. I didn’t touch them. Derek wiped the juice off his hands with a towel. “Nora, I thought you loved shrimp. Eat up.” Oh, so he still remembered. Derek had ordered this entire banquet. Out of dozens of dishes on the table, not a single one was something I actually liked. He had been hustling in the business world for years. He was a master at catering to people’s preferences and playing the social game. When it came to me, he just didn’t care to try. Right in front of me was a plate of Pineapple Glazed Chicken. It was sweet and tangy. Harper’s favorite. Harper picked up a large chunk of pineapple with her chopsticks and dropped it onto my plate. “Nora, you just focus on staying home, raising the kid, and enjoying a relaxing life. I’ll be here to share the corporate pressure with Derek.” Derek looked at her, his face practically glowing with the words, You really understand me. I am deathly allergic to pineapple. I used my chopsticks to pick the chunk up and set it on the tablecloth. Derek’s face instantly darkened. “In front of all these people, you’re really going to disrespect Harper like that?” “Pick it up and eat it.” “Did you forget I’m allergic to pineapple?” “What kind of pathetic excuse is that? I’ve never seen you have an allergic reaction in my life.” He picked up the piece of pineapple from the table and dropped it forcefully back onto my plate. “Eat it.” I ate it. A few minutes later, my face started burning up. I rushed to the bathroom, but no matter how hard I gagged, I couldn’t throw it up. My brother, Lucas, sent me a text. “I have a client who needs a used luxury car. He took one look at the specs for your Mercedes and wants it. Cash offer, ready to wire the funds today.” “Nora, is that punk treating you badly again?” The emotions I had suppressed for years suddenly shattered. I crouched on the bathroom tiles, covering my mouth to muffle my devastating sobs. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, wiping away the cheap foundation that my tears had ruined. I don’t want the car anymore. And I don’t want the man anymore, either. That night, Derek came home and tossed a box of allergy medication onto the table. “You shouldn’t have gone tonight. You’re a stay-at-home mom. Going to a corporate dinner like that is just asking to be humiliated.” I stared at him with ice-cold eyes. “And who exactly did I become a stay-at-home mom for?” Derek’s tone softened. He walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Babe, I know taking care of the house these past few years has been exhausting for you.” “But it’s not easy for me either. I’m out there grinding every single day, and it’s all for you and Chloe.” I peeled his hands off my body. “Who you’re really doing it for… you know better than anyone.” Derek slammed the box of pills onto the table. Smack. “Why are you like this now?! Always acting crazy and paranoid.” He started packing a suitcase. “I have to travel for work for the next few days. Stay home and take care of the kid.” “Oh, and that loan your brother promised me for the raw materials? Why hasn’t it hit my account yet? Hustle him. I need that money urgently.” The front door slammed shut. Over the past few years, Derek constantly used “cash flow issues” as an excuse to borrow money from my brother. The first time, he said a client delayed a payment, and he’d pay Lucas back as soon as it cleared. The second time, he said they were expanding, and he needed seed money for a new department. He’d pay it back when the project was profitable. The third time, he said their equipment needed upgrading… Derek always told me, I’m working this hard for you. When your brother helps me, he’s helping you. I believed him. Every single time, I was the one who went to Lucas and begged for the money. This time, he said he needed to buy a massive batch of new materials. He asked for $100,000 without blinking. I texted Lucas and asked him to send me the ledger of every wire transfer he had ever sent to Derek. $15,000. $30,000. $40,000. $50,000… It added up to exactly $300,000. Derek had never paid back a single cent. He always said Later, When we make a profit, Soon… I saved the ledger screenshots to my camera roll. While I was cleaning the house, I found a crumpled receipt shoved in the back of a drawer. Chanel Boutique. $5,500. Dated February 5th. I remembered that day. It was right after Derek had borrowed $60,000 from my brother. He had told me the holidays were approaching and he absolutely had to pay his employees their end-of-year bonuses. I was the one who borrowed that money for him. I swore to my brother that Derek would pay him back this time. Instead, Derek turned around and bought Harper a $5,500 designer bag. I opened Harper’s Instagram. Her latest post was tagged in Cabo San Lucas. “Taking a few days to properly unwind.” The photo featured the back of a man looking out at the ocean. I recognized Derek’s shoulders instantly. I scrolled to the next post. “Wheels up to Cabo! First-class seats are so spacious.” The next one. “Year-end bonus picked out by the boss. Love it.” (A photo of the Chanel bag). Further down. “Business trip. The boss booked me a luxury suite.” “Women really need to focus on their careers! My salary just doubled!” “My commute was too long, so the boss rented a luxury apartment for me right next to the office! Ahhh, he’s so sweet!” …… I kept scrolling down, all the way to her very first post at the company. “First day at the new job. The boss is really nice.” A notification popped up from Chloe’s school group chat. “Parents, please submit the spring uniform and extracurricular activity fees. The total is $150.” After I paid the fee, my bank account balance was exactly $45. For years, Derek constantly told me the company was tight on cash, telling me to be frugal and save money. I listened to him. I stared blankly at my $45 balance. My phone rang. “Nora, where’s the car parked? I brought the buyer.” I looked at the Mercedes. Back then, I had paid $160,000 in cash for it. In three years, the number of times I had actually sat in this car could be counted on one hand. The buyer inspected it thoroughly and was thrilled. The agreed price was $100,000. He would wire the funds in three days. Three days later, Derek came home. There wasn’t a trace of fatigue on his face. But his mouth said otherwise. “Business trips are exhausting. I’ve been working to the bone.” “Alright, unpack my suitcase for me. I have to go to the office.” He shoved his luggage at me, turned around, and left. That afternoon, I went to his office. His private office door was locked from the inside. I could hear voices murmuring. It sounded like Harper. I knocked on the door. No one answered. I knocked again, and Derek’s impatient voice rang out. “Didn’t I say I was resting?! No one is allowed to knock during this hour!” I didn’t say a word. I just kept knocking. I heard frantic footsteps. The door clicked open. When Derek saw me, he froze. “What are you doing here?” “The office isn’t a place for you. Go home!” I said calmly: “Chloe left something in the car last time. I came to get the spare car keys so I can look for it.” I took two steps into the office. I saw a shadow cast on the wall from behind the large filing cabinet. Derek hurriedly pulled his keys out of his desk drawer. “Here, take them. Go find it, and bring the keys right back!” I took another two steps into the room. I saw a large, suspicious wet spot soaking into the leather of Derek’s executive chair. Derek nervously rubbed his nose. “Uh, I accidentally spilled some water earlier.” I kept walking further in, but Derek leaped in front of the filing cabinet to block my path. “Didn’t you say you needed to look for something?! Hurry up and go!” I stopped, holding the keys, and turned around. The moment the office door clicked shut behind me, the muffled sounds of passionate moaning that I had interrupted resumed. The buyer arrived with the money. $100,000, wired instantly. The second the money hit my account, I let out a massive sigh of relief. As for the depreciation loss, I considered it the idiot tax for being blind enough to love him. An hour later, Derek called me. “Did you find it?! Bring the keys back immediately, I have to go meet a client!” “And did you hustle your brother like I asked?! Why hasn’t the money hit my account yet?!” “If those materials don’t arrive, we can’t ship the product. The client is going to sue us for breach of contract!” “Nora, do you ever actually listen to a single word I say?!” I hung up the phone and texted Lucas. “The car is sold and done.” “The money he owes you? We’re making him spit every last penny of it out.” Derek called back immediately. “Nora, what the hell is wrong with you?! Did staying home and wiping a kid’s ass rot your brain?! Can you not understand basic English?!” “The entire company is waiting on these materials! If this contract goes up in flames, can you afford to take responsibility?!” I hung up on him again. Derek was panicking. “Nora, this is my final warning! Tell your brother to wire the money right now!” I declined the call. I watched as Derek stormed out of the office building, his face twisted in rage. Harper was trailing closely behind him. I was standing on the sidewalk waiting for them. I noticed that the wet stain on Derek’s slacks hadn’t dried yet. He marched up to me, furious. “What the hell are you playing at?!” “And your brother! He promised to wire the money on the 5th! It’s two days late! What is his problem?!” “Give me the keys! I need to go see my client right now!” “Where is the car?! It was literally parked right here!” His phone buzzed. It was a text from Lucas. When Derek opened it, he almost collapsed.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “399968”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

A month ago, my son offered to pay me $700 a month to help out after his wife gave birth. A month later, my daughter-in-law handed me an itemized bill claiming I actually owed them $300. I didn’t say a single word. I packed my bags and went straight to a domestic staffing agency downtown. The young agent looked at my age and hesitated. “Sir, clients these days are picky. They want younger people, and they want certified professionals. You’re 62… it’s going to be a tough sell.” I didn’t argue. I just pulled a stack of certificates out of my pocket. I had secretly earned them over the past six months while the baby was sleeping. Advanced Infant Care Certification, a Nutritionist License, and even a Pediatric Massage Certificate. Originally, I just wanted to learn how to take better care of my grandson so my daughter-in-law, Chloe, would have less to complain about. Now, they were my golden ticket. “I’m a hard worker, I take initiative, and I don’t need days off. As long as room and board are covered, I expect market rate for my salary,” I said, staring her dead in the eye, my voice firm. The agent’s eyes lit up. “Sir, these are some serious credentials! Actually, I have an urgent request. The client’s previous housekeeper had a family emergency and left suddenly. She desperately needs someone who can cook and clean. The only thing is, the client’s temper is a bit… intense. Are you willing to give it a try?” “I’ll take it.” Nothing could possibly be more terrifying than the house that had been slowly eating me alive. The address was in ‘The Palisades,’ a gated community of massive, multi-million dollar estates on the east side of the city. The client’s name was Ms. Sterling. She was a female entrepreneur in her fifties, divorced, and living alone. When I walked in, the house looked like it had been ransacked. Takeout containers were piled high on the dining table, the expensive rugs were covered in dog hair, and Ms. Sterling was curled up on the sofa aggressively typing emails, not even bothering to look up when I entered. Still wearing her stilettos, looking utterly exhausted, she pointed a finger toward the kitchen. “Three rules. First, dinner must be a protein, two vegetables, and a soup—healthy and light. Second, clean up the backyard; I hate weeds. Third, keep the dog out of my office. Can you handle it? If not, leave right now.” I set my bag down. Without a word, I rolled up my sleeves and marched into the kitchen. The fridge was fully stocked, but most of the ingredients were on the verge of rotting. I salvaged what was fresh and got to work. Forty minutes later. Steamed sea bass with ginger and scallions, garlic roasted broccoli, sweet corn and pork rib soup, and a side of braised sea cucumber were set on the table. While things were simmering, I had run the vacuum over the living room, neatly arranged her discarded heels by the door, and steamed the wrinkles out of the blazer she had thrown over a chair. Ms. Sterling walked out of her home office. The smell of the food made her stop in her tracks. She took a sip of the rib soup, and the deep crease between her eyebrows instantly vanished. “Wow. You really know your way around a kitchen.” I nodded, didn’t say much, and went out the back door to start tackling the overgrown garden. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw Ms. Sterling watching me. The look in her eyes had changed. “You’re on a three-day trial,” she called out. “Three hundred a day. If you do a good job, we’ll sign a long-term contract.” I was about to nod when my phone started vibrating in my pocket. It was my son, Mark. I didn’t answer. I hit decline. He called again. I hit decline again. Immediately after, a notification popped up on WhatsApp. It was a voice memo from my daughter-in-law, Chloe. I tapped play, not bothering to hide it from Ms. Sterling. Chloe’s shrill, nasty voice exploded into the quiet, luxurious living room: “Arthur Davis! Where the hell did you go?! There’s no dinner, the baby is screaming, and the house looks like a pigsty! Get your ass back here right now! Are you trying to starve your own grandson?! I’m telling you right now, if you don’t come back and get on your knees to apologize, you will never see this child again!” When the audio message finished, the air was dead silent. Ms. Sterling raised an eyebrow, looking at me with a mix of amusement and sharp calculation. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot of drama at home.” My heart sank. Is she going to fire me? I took a deep breath. Right in front of Ms. Sterling, I held down the record button and replied with perfect, crystal-clear enunciation: “The child is yours, not mine. If he starves, that’s child neglect on your part. As for getting on my knees to apologize? Keep dreaming. I’m busy making real money now. I don’t have time to wait on giant adult toddlers.” I hit send, immediately blocked her number, and powered off my phone. I looked up, meeting Ms. Sterling’s visibly impressed gaze. “I like your style,” the corner of her mouth curled into a smirk. “You work fast, and you cut ties clean. You’re hired. As long as you keep my house running smoothly, you never have to go back to that one.” My nose stung. I gave her a firm, heavy nod. “Thank you, Ms. Sterling.” In this strange, sprawling mansion, facing a complete stranger, I somehow felt a sense of dignity I hadn’t experienced in years. Living in the Sterling house for a month felt like being reborn. Ms. Sterling wasn’t short on money. As long as the house was spotless and the food was excellent, she never micromanaged or nitpicked. Her daughter occasionally came home from college. She had a bit of a rebellious streak, but she was soft-hearted. After I made her late-night snacks a few times, she started calling me “Arthur,” and would share expensive imported treats she brought back from her trips. Here, there were no itemized bills claiming “AC left on too long: Deduct $50.” There was no one kicking my door open at 3 AM demanding I change a diaper. There were no eye-rolls or sarcastic comments about how I was useless. Every night after I finished my work, I could sit in my spacious private suite, listen to audiobooks, soak my feet, and scroll through TikTok in peace. I actually felt like losing the seventy thousand dollars I had given my son was worth it. I lost seventy grand, but I saw the true colors of two ungrateful parasites, and I bought back the rest of my life. 2 That weekend, Ms. Sterling was hosting a dinner party for a few business partners. She handed me four hundred dollars cash and told me to go to the high-end organic supermarket nearby to pick up some specialty ingredients. I was pushing my cart through the imported fruit section, picking out premium Shine Muscat grapes. Talk about bad luck. “Well, well. If it isn’t the runaway grandpa.” A grating, sarcastic voice came from behind me. I turned around. My son, Mark, and my daughter-in-law, Chloe, were standing a few feet away, pushing a stroller. In just a month, the two of them looked visibly destroyed. Mark’s face was gray with exhaustion, his shirt collar completely wrinkled. Chloe had dark circles under her eyes so heavy she looked like a raccoon. The baby in the stroller was screaming his lungs out, his diaper so full it was sagging down to his knees. Clearly, without their “free live-in servant,” life wasn’t going so great. Chloe’s eyes practically bulged out of her head when she saw the expensive grapes in my hand. “Arthur Davis! Where did you get the money to buy fruit like that?! Did you steal cash before you left?! I knew we were missing three hundred dollars from the joint account! It was you, you old thief!” She lunged forward, trying to grab my shopping cart, her voice so loud that people in the aisles started staring. “Hand the money over! That was money for the baby’s formula! How can you be so shameless, stealing milk money from your own grandson?!” Mark stepped up, his face dark, and grabbed my arm roughly. “Dad, are you done throwing your tantrum? We’ve been eating garbage takeout for a month, and the baby has diarrhea! And here you are, living it up with stolen money?! Get back to the house right now!” I violently shook off Mark’s hand, glaring at them coldly. “Watch your mouth. This is the grocery budget my employer gave me. As for your missing money? That’s because you two are financially illiterate. It has absolutely nothing to do with me.” “Your employer?” Chloe scoffed, looking me up and down, taking in my clean, utilitarian Uniqlo work clothes. “You? What are you doing, scrubbing toilets? Making what, minimum wage? Is that even enough to cover your blood pressure meds?” She was getting worked up, her old sense of superiority flaring up again. “Listen, I’ll give you a way out. Come back with us right now. Clean the house, do the laundry, and I’ll forgive a hundred and fifty of your ‘debt.’ As long as you keep your head down and do what you’re told, I’ll let you back through the front door.” Mark chimed in, playing the good cop. “Yeah, Dad. It’s tough out there. Come home, help with the kid, and we’ll take care of you in your old age. Isn’t that better than serving strangers?” Take care of me in my old age? Looking at their hypocritical, twisted faces, I just felt profoundly nauseous. “Sorry. I’m busy.” I tried to push my cart past them, but Chloe aggressively blocked my path, kicking the wheel of my cart so hard it almost tipped over. “Don’t push your luck, old man! Believe it or not, I will go find your ’employer’ and make a scene! I’ll tell them you’re a thief with sticky fingers! You won’t even be able to scrub toilets when I’m done with you!” While she was screaming, a young chauffeur in a sharp suit jogged into the supermarket, spotting me and bowing respectfully. “Arthur, Ms. Sterling sent me to help. She was worried the groceries might be too heavy for you. The car is right out front.” Mark froze. Chloe froze. They recognized the chauffeur because they recognized the car parked outside the glass doors. It was a Bentley, a notoriously expensive luxury car often seen in this affluent area. I adjusted my collar and handed the shopping cart to the chauffeur. Then, I reached into my pocket, pulled out my freshly signed employment contract, and slapped it right against Mark’s stunned chest. “Read it and weep.” “Ms. Sterling hired me as her live-in Estate Manager.” “My salary is eight thousand dollars a month. Six days on, one day off. A double-salary holiday bonus. Room, board, and full health insurance included.” I looked at Mark’s face, which had turned the color of chalk, and Chloe’s expression, which looked like she had just swallowed a live fly. I delivered the final, fatal blow: “I make more than the two of you combined.” “You want me to come back and serve you? Fine.” “My rate is market value, plus triple time for overtime. If you can’t afford it, get out of my face.” With that, I turned around and, under the envious gazes of the onlookers, slid into the back of a luxury car they couldn’t afford in ten lifetimes. In the rearview mirror, the baby in Mark’s arms was still screaming. The couple stood frozen in the aisle, looking like two utterly pathetic clowns nobody cared about. And my good life had just begun. Sitting in the Bentley heading back to the Palisades, the anger in my chest mostly dissipated, replaced by a cold, clear detachment. Ms. Sterling was a sharp woman. She didn’t pry during the ride, simply saying, “Arthur, in the future, if trash like that approaches you, just have security throw them out.” I nodded, my spine straightening a little more. 3 In the days that followed, I worked even harder. I managed the Sterling estate’s landscaping, organization, and meal planning flawlessly. Ms. Sterling’s daughter was a picky eater, so I researched trendy, healthy recipes, modifying them to fit her taste profile. The young girl was so happy with the food that she started chatting with me more, even teaching me how to edit and post videos on TikTok. Payday happened to fall on the day Ms. Sterling hosted a lavish birthday party for her daughter. In front of a house full of wealthy guests, Ms. Sterling handed me a thick envelope. “Arthur, this is your bonus for the month. You’ve really taken a huge weight off my shoulders.” I was about to politely decline when the doorbell started ringing frantically, like rapid-fire explosions. The junior maid, Sarah, went to open it, only to be violently shoved backward. “Arthur Davis! Get your ass out here!” Chloe’s shrill screech instantly drowned out the background music. She was dragging a pale, dead-looking Mark behind her. The entire room of high-society guests froze, their champagne glasses halted in mid-air. My heart gave a violent lurch. I almost dropped the tray of hors d’oeuvres I was holding. These two psychopaths actually tracked me down to my employer’s house. “Who let you in?” I set the tray down, took long, purposeful strides across the room, and positioned myself squarely between them and Ms. Sterling’s family. Seeing me in my tailored, professional uniform, Chloe’s eyes turned red—partly from jealousy, but mostly from humiliating rage. “Oh, this is rich! Everyone, listen to this! This old man abandons his own flesh-and-blood grandson to come play dog for strangers! My son is in the ER with a 104-degree fever, our house is a disaster zone, and he’s hiding out here living the high life!” She wailed dramatically while violently yanking on Mark’s sleeve. “Mark, say something! This is your father! Are you just going to let him serve other people and embarrass the Davis family name?!” Being violently jerked seemed to snap Mark back to reality. He puffed out his chest and yelled at me: “Dad! Have you lost your mind?! Your grandson is sick! He’s in the emergency room, and we don’t have the money for the copay! Get your things and come with us right now! And ask for an advance on your salary to pay his medical bills!” The guests began whispering among themselves, casting strange, judging looks in my direction. Ms. Sterling’s face darkened. She was about to speak, but I raised my hand to stop her. “Chloe,” I looked at this woman, who I could barely recognize as the daughter-in-law I once knew. “Your child is sick. You are his mother. And your first instinct wasn’t to take care of him at the hospital, but to track me down to cause a scene and demand money?” “We don’t have money! Everything is tied up in the mortgage and the car payments! You are the grandfather! It is your absolute duty to pay for him!” Chloe screamed, utterly convinced of her own twisted logic. I let out a harsh laugh. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, opened the photo of the “Itemized Penalty Bill” Mark had sent me a month ago, and held it up high for the entire room to see. “Ladies and gentlemen, take a look. These are the ‘house rules’ my son imposed on me.” “Not only was I providing full-time, unpaid childcare, but I was being actively penalized. ‘Left the AC on too long: Deduct $50.’ ‘Cooked a meal that took over an hour: Deduct $200.’ When I finally left, not only was I unpaid, I supposedly ‘owed’ them three hundred dollars.” I shoved the phone screen directly into Mark’s face. “Is this what you call my ‘absolute duty’?” The whispers among the guests turned into audible gasps, and the looks they gave the young couple were now filled with absolute disgust. “They didn’t want a father, they wanted a slave.” “How shameless. They’re literal financial vampires.” Mark’s face cycled through shades of red and white. He reached out to snatch my phone. “You crazy old man! Have you never heard that dirty laundry stays in the family?!” SMACK! I backhanded him across the face. The sound was crisp and echoing. “So you know it’s dirty?” “That slap is to teach you how to be a human being. You don’t have money for your kid’s medical bills? That’s because you are incompetent parents! I have to survive too. Every cent I earn is for my own retirement. It has absolutely zero to do with you!” “Security!” Ms. Sterling’s voice cut through the room like ice. “Throw these two lunatics out. Add their faces to the gate’s permanent blacklist. They are never to step foot in the Palisades again.” Several massive, broad-shouldered security guards rushed in and dragged the two of them out by their arms, like they were hauling away garbage. Mark was still struggling. “Dad! You can’t be this ruthless! That is your own grandson!” I turned my back. I didn’t look at them again. “Ruthless? You two wrote the book on it.” After that chaotic scene, my heart hardened into steel. Ms. Sterling not only didn’t blame me, she actually gave me a raise, saying I handled the situation perfectly and didn’t let her lose face in front of her guests. But I knew those two parasites wouldn’t just give up. Sure enough, two days later, my extended family’s group chat exploded. My younger brother, my aunt, my older brother—relatives who hadn’t spoken to me in years—were suddenly blowing up my phone. “Arthur, you’re really in the wrong here. What kind of grandfather abandons his grandson?” “I heard you’re working as a servant for rich people now? Sigh, how is Mark supposed to show his face in public with that kind of shame?” “Your daughter-in-law is crying in the group chat. She said you stole tens of thousands of dollars and ran off, leaving the baby to die. That’s just evil.” I opened the group chat. Chloe had posted several massive paragraphs, playing the victim perfectly. She claimed I hated her, that I abandoned my family to chase after wealthy employers, and she even started a rumor that I was having an affair. Mark was playing dead in the chat, occasionally posting a single “Sigh” to manipulate the narrative. I looked at the blind accusations from relatives who knew nothing about the truth. My finger hovered over the screen for a long time. Then, I let out a cold laugh.

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I was in the middle of a business trip when my husband suddenly called. He told me he was selling the restaurant my late father had left behind. “Harper, I’ve already decided to transfer the restaurant to someone else. One point eight million.” I froze for two seconds, demanding to know why he hadn’t discussed something this massive with me first. He answered with absolute self-righteousness, “My name is on the LLC as the managing member. I have the right to make the call.” “That’s exactly what your dad said when he was alive.” “A point eight million is a lot of money. I think it’s a good deal, so I’m selling it. Is that a problem?” With that, he hung up the phone. When I tried to call him back, it went straight to voicemail. His phone was off. I was shaking with rage. I sent him a single text. “Nolan, if you actually sell that restaurant.” “We are getting a divorce.” …… I canceled all my meetings and booked the very next flight home. I landed at 5:00 PM and took a cab straight to our condo complex. Just as I was walking up to the building, I saw a sleek black Mercedes idling by the entrance. Nolan was sitting in the passenger seat, laughing and chatting with the person behind the wheel. I quickly stepped back and hid behind a row of delivery lockers. The driver was a woman I didn’t recognize, probably in her early thirties. She rested her arm on the open window, smiling. “So, it’s a done deal?” Nolan nodded. “Don’t worry. Harper is out of state on a business trip. She won’t be back for another week.” “Are you sure she won’t try to blow this up? It was her dad’s place, after all.” Nolan scoffed. “I’m the sole signatory on the LLC. I can sell it if I want to, and nobody can stop me.” “Besides, when her dad was alive, he explicitly said the restaurant was mine to manage.” “She’s constantly traveling for her corporate job anyway. What is she going to say?” “Worst case scenario, we just get a divorce.” The woman smiled. “Good.” Nolan smiled back, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. The woman reached out, wrapped an arm around his neck, and they started passionately making out right there in the car. I gripped the handle of my suitcase so hard my knuckles turned white. They murmured a few more things to each other before the woman drove off. Nolan grabbed his briefcase and strolled into the building, his leather dress shoes clicking cheerfully against the pavement. I stepped out from behind the lockers and stood in the courtyard, lighting a cigarette. The early March wind was biting. The ash blew off the tip of my cigarette and landed on my shoes. I stared down at the gray ash, remembering my dad lying in his hospital bed right before he passed. He had held my hand and said: “Harper, sweetie, I’m leaving the restaurant in your husband’s hands. Don’t overthink it.” “Your job keeps you too busy to run it. He’s got ambition, and he’s always wanted to be involved in the management side. I don’t want you two fighting over this.” I had told him I understood. He wheezed for a long time before adding, “It’s good for a husband to have drive. But you have to remember… that restaurant is the roots of our family.” I nodded. Three days later, he was gone. I stayed awake all night at the funeral home. Nolan stayed right by my side, crying harder than anyone else in the room. At the time, I actually thought my dad had been right to trust him. Looking back now, it was a sick joke. I dragged my suitcase out of the complex and found a small, dimly lit tavern down the street. I ordered a steak and a bottle of bourbon. The bartender came over to pour me a glass, glanced at my suitcase, but didn’t ask questions. When the food arrived, I didn’t touch a single bite. I just downed my first glass of bourbon straight. The cheap liquor burned the back of my throat, making my eyes sting. My mom walked out on us when I was three. My dad never remarried. He started from absolute scratch, waking up at 3:00 AM every single day to push a food cart to the wholesale markets to buy fresh ingredients. In the winters, the cold cracked the skin on his hands until they bled. In the summers, the sun peeled the skin right off his back. He worked that cart for eight years until he finally saved enough to rent his first brick-and-mortar diner. He worked another ten years to finally buy the entire three-story commercial building. He had no other hobbies in life. He just loved standing behind that grill. When I was a kid, I would go straight to the restaurant after school and do my homework in the back booth while he flipped burgers and seared steaks. The grease and smoke always made his eyes red, but he would just chuckle and say he was used to it. Later, when I got a corporate job and started traveling constantly, I always made sure to visit the restaurant the second I got back into town. He would personally cook my favorite meals, sit across from me, watch me eat, and ask me about my life. The last time I visited the restaurant was a week before he was hospitalized. He had been standing by the front doors smoking a cigarette, watching the customers come and go, his eyes full of a deep, profound reluctance to let it all go. At the time, I thought to myself, Give me a few more years. Once I’m not so busy, I’ll quit and come back to help him run the place. Unfortunately, he didn’t live to see that day. I poured my second glass of bourbon and pulled out my phone. I texted Jessica, my childhood best friend who now ran her own CPA firm. “I need you to run a license plate for me. I’ll send you the number.” She replied instantly: “What’s going on?” I sent her the plate number. “A Mercedes. Why do you need this? Whose car is it?” “A woman. I don’t know her.” There were a few seconds of silence before my phone rang. “Harper, talk to me. What exactly is going on?” I gave her the short version. She cursed loudly on the other end of the line. “Where are you right now?” “Drinking.” “Stay there. I’m coming over.” “No need. Just find out exactly who this woman is.” She cursed a few more times before hanging up. I went back to my drink. Half a bottle of bourbon later, the steak remained untouched. The bartender came over with the check, glancing at the bottle, looking like she wanted to say something but deciding against it. I paid the bill, stood up, and walked out. When I got home, Nolan was lounging on the sofa watching TV. Seeing me walk in, he froze, his brows instantly furrowing. “Why are you back?” “My trip got canceled.” He let out an “Oh,” his eyes shifting back to the TV. “Did you eat? There are leftovers in the fridge.” Looking at his profile, I suddenly felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. In seven years of marriage, I had to travel out of state dozens of times a year. Every time I came back, he would eagerly ask me what I wanted to eat and rush into the kitchen to cook it. Even if I got home at midnight, there was always a hot meal waiting on the stove. Now, he was telling me there were leftovers in the fridge. I didn’t say a word. I dragged my suitcase into the bedroom and dropped it on the floor. When I came back out, he was still watching TV. He had just shifted his position, resting his legs on the coffee table. “I want to talk about the restaurant again,” I said, standing in the middle of the living room. He turned his head, looking deeply annoyed. “What is there to talk about? I’ve already negotiated the deal. We’re signing the contract tomorrow.” “1.8 million. Don’t you think that’s way too low?” “They ran an appraisal. That’s what it’s worth. Besides, the restaurant industry is brutal right now. We need to offload it while we still have a buyer.” “But that was my father’s life’s work!” He stood up, his voice rising. “It’s always your dad! Your dad! If I hadn’t been managing that place, it would have gone under months ago!” “Do you have any idea how hard it is to run a business right now? Do you know how exhausting it is dealing with entitled customers and shady vendors every single day?” “You don’t know anything! All you do is go to work and travel!” I stared at him, enunciating every word. “That still doesn’t give you the right to sell it without even discussing it with me.” “Discuss what? I’m the owner on paper. I have the right to decide.” “Did you see the text I sent you? I told you, if you sell it, we’re getting a divorce.” Nolan froze for a second, then let out an incredibly condescending laugh. “Harper, are you a child?” He crossed his arms and tilted his head at me. “You want a divorce just because I’m selling a restaurant? Do you think marriage is a game?” I pressed my lips tightly together. “It’s not just a normal restaurant!” “How is it not normal? It’s just a building, some booths, and a few tables.” “Yeah, your dad worked his whole life for it, but that was his life. What does that have to do with me?” “I married you. I didn’t marry a building.” I frowned. “That’s not what you used to say.” “What I used to say?” He scoffed. “You said it yourself—that was the past. In the past, I humored you because I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want to ruin our marriage.” “But now I’ve thought it through. I can’t spend the rest of my life chained to a greasy diner, serving drunks who throw tantrums over their steaks.” “I have my own ambitions. I don’t want to manage a kitchen anymore. I want a better, more relaxed life. Is that a crime?” After a long silence, I asked him, “Who are you selling it to?” “I’m selling it to Victoria Sterling. An old high school friend of mine,” he said. “Honestly, thank God she’s a friend, or I wouldn’t even be getting this much for it.” I looked at him, saying nothing. My stare made him uncomfortable. He looked away. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “I had the property appraised a while ago,” I said slowly. “With the brand recognition my dad built over decades, plus the monthly revenue, there is absolutely no way it’s only worth 1.8 million.” He flinched, then quickly frowned. “Who did your appraisal? They were lying to you. Do you even know the current market for hospitality?” “I know perfectly well.” I nodded. “And deep down, so do you.” “What do I know?!” He stood up defensively. “Victoria gave me a very fair price! Do you think selling a commercial restaurant is easy right now?” “I had to negotiate with her for a long time before she finally agreed to take it off my hands!” “Negotiated for a long time? Since when?” He opened his mouth but no words came out. “Since I’ve been on this business trip?” I pressed. “Or earlier?” “What are you implying?” He glared at me. “Harper, if you have something to say, just say it. Stop acting so passive-aggressive.” “I’m not implying anything.” My face remained perfectly calm. “I just want to know when exactly you decided to sell, and how you negotiated it.” “We talked about it last year. Victoria is building a restaurant franchise. She liked our location and wanted to acquire it to rebrand it.” I continued my interrogation. “The 1.8 million—did you pitch that number, or did she?” His eyes flickered. “Does it make a difference?” “Yes,” I said. “If she pitched it, then she’s taking advantage of the fact that you don’t know the market.” “If you pitched it, then you’re actively selling my father’s legacy for pennies.” His face changed. “Harper! Watch your mouth! Who’s selling it for pennies?!” “I’ve been breaking my back running that place for the last two years! I know exactly how much it’s worth better than anyone!” “Then tell me. How much is it worth?” He opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. I looked at him, waiting for an answer. “Whatever. The contract is basically signed.” He turned his head away. “There’s no point in arguing about this.” “Signed?” “I’m signing it tomorrow,” he said. “The Letter of Intent is already signed.” I didn’t say anything else. He waited a moment, and seeing that I wasn’t going to speak, he added, “Harper, I know you feel attached because your dad left it behind.” “But think about it. What’s the point of keeping it?” “You don’t manage it, and I’m done managing it. We have a buyer willing to pay a good price. Why not just sell it and be done with it?” “You think 1.8 million is a good price?” “Maybe not to you, but it is to me.” His tone grew agitated. “I’ve been with you for all these years, and what have you ever given me?” “You travel constantly. Do you ever take care of the house? Do you ever help with the restaurant?” “Now that I want to sell it, suddenly you care.” I shot back, “So you’re selling the restaurant because I travel too much?” “Don’t flatter yourself.” He sneered. “I’m selling the restaurant because I don’t want to serve people anymore. I want an easy life. Is that a crime?” “No.” “Great.” He stood up. “I’m signing the contract tomorrow. When the money clears, we split it fifty-fifty. If you want a divorce after that, fine by me.” I stared right into his eyes. “Are you serious?” “Dead serious.” I nodded. “Alright. Don’t regret this.” He let out a scoff, turned around, and walked into the master bedroom, slamming the door hard enough to shake the walls. I stood in the living room for a moment before grabbing a blanket from the guest room and lying down on the sofa. I couldn’t sleep. My phone vibrated. I picked it up. It was a message from Jessica. “Harper, I ran the plates. The car is registered to a Victoria Sterling. She runs a hospitality group.” “This chick is bad news!” She attached several PDF files. After reading through them carefully, I replied: “Do you have time tomorrow? Come with me to the restaurant.” “Absolutely.” I put the phone down and closed my eyes. I don’t know how much time passed. I was just drifting off to sleep when my phone rang. It was my mother-in-law. I answered it. Before I could even say hello, she started screaming through the receiver: “Harper! What is wrong with you?! You want to divorce Nolan?!” “What did he ever do to wrong you?! He manages this entire household and runs that massive restaurant all by himself! Do you think that’s easy?!” “Now you’re threatening him with a divorce? What kind of monster are you?!” I listened without making a sound. “Let me tell you right now, if you divorce him, I am going to make your life a living hell!” “Don’t think our family is easy to push around! Nolan has been with you for seven years. What have you ever given him?!” “He broke his back running that rundown diner your dad left behind. And now that he wants to sell it, you’re throwing a fit?!” “Is it even yours?! His name is on the LLC! He can sell it whenever he wants, and you have no say in it!” I finally spoke. “Are you done?” She paused, clearly caught off guard. “What did you say?” “If you’re done, I’m hanging up.” “Don’t you dare! You need to explain yourself right now!” I hung up the phone and powered it off completely. The living room was pitch black. I sat up and lit another cigarette. The smoke drifted upward, dispersing against the ceiling. I thought back to my dad’s funeral, when Nolan had hugged me and wept. He had sworn through his tears that we would build a beautiful life together. He promised he would manage the restaurant perfectly so my dad could rest in peace. At first, he went to the restaurant every single day. He worked with the chefs on new menu items, held meetings with the waitstaff, and diligently balanced the books at the end of every month. But over time, he started going less and less. I asked him about it a few times, and he claimed he was just exhausted and wanted to hire a general manager. I agreed. Eventually, he stopped checking the books altogether. Whatever the GM reported, he just blindly accepted. He couldn’t be bothered. I assumed he was just burned out, so I didn’t push him. Looking back now, that must have been when he started planning to sell it. When my cigarette burned out, I lay back down. I drifted into a restless sleep. When I opened my eyes again, the sun was up. The next morning, Jessica and I arrived at the restaurant. It was right before the lunch rush. The servers were setting the tables, and the rhythmic sound of chopping echoed from the kitchen. Seeing me walk through the door, a few veteran employees paused in surprise before quickly greeting me. I smiled and replied to them. They looked at me with hesitant expressions, clearly wanting to say something but holding back. Someone opened their mouth, but ultimately stayed quiet. Jessica followed close behind me, whispering, “Harper, the vibe in here is weird.” I didn’t respond. When we reached the kitchen doors, Chef Marcus was prepping ingredients. He looked up, saw me, and his knife stopped. “Harper?” He set the knife down, wiped his hands on his apron, and walked out. “You’re back in town? Why didn’t you tell me?” “It was a last-minute decision,” I replied. He glanced at Jessica behind me, then looked back at me, pulling me into the adjacent stairwell. “Tell me the truth. Is your husband trying to sell the restaurant?” I looked at him. He had worked here for twenty-three years. He had been with my dad since the very beginning, working his way up from a dishwasher to Head Chef. He had watched me grow up. “Yes, Chef.” I gave a bitter smile. His face dropped. He was silent for a few seconds before asking, “Is he really going through with it?” “He’s already in negotiations.” “Then you…” “Don’t worry, Chef,” I interrupted him. “This restaurant is not being sold.” He stared at me for a long time, then nodded heavily. “Good.” “No matter what happens, the crew and I are on your side.” My chest felt warm. “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Your dad treated me like family. This restaurant was his life’s work. I won’t let anyone destroy it.” He turned to leave, but stopped. “By the way. Yesterday, your husband brought people in to tour the place. A woman driving a Mercedes, and a few of your in-laws.” “They walked around the whole building, pointing at things and whispering.” “I know.” “Alright. Just making sure you’re aware.” He patted my shoulder and walked away. Jessica and I sat down at a booth in the main dining area and asked for two glasses of water. At 11:30 AM, a black Mercedes pulled up to the front entrance. Victoria got out, walked around to the passenger side, and opened the door. Nolan stepped out, linked arms with her, and they walked toward the doors. A white Buick pulled up right behind them. Four people got out. My mother-in-law, my brother-in-law, my sister-in-law, and Nolan’s cousin. When they walked through the doors and saw me, they didn’t look surprised at all. My mother-in-law actually smirked—a smug, theatrical smirk, like she was ready for a show. Victoria walked right up to me and extended her hand. “Harper, right? I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Victoria Sterling.” I stared at her outstretched hand and didn’t move a muscle. Her hand hung in the air awkwardly for a second before she pulled it back, completely unbothered, and smiled. “Nolan told me you were away on business. I didn’t expect you back so soon. Perfect timing, actually. We can chat.” “Chat about what?” “About the acquisition, of course,” she smiled sweetly. “Nolan and I have already finalized the details. We’re signing the contract today. After this, the restaurant will be mine.” “Yours?” “Exactly. 1.8 million. It’s an incredibly fair price. I plan to rebrand this place and turn it into the flagship location for my new hospitality chain.” I looked at her, saying nothing. Nolan walked over, dropping his briefcase onto the table. He pulled out a thick stack of documents. “Victoria, I brought the contracts,” he said. “You can sign them now.” My mother-in-law pushed her way to the front, glaring at me, instantly issuing a warning. “Harper, I’m telling you right now, do not cause a scene.” “Nolan is the owner on paper. He makes the decisions here. You don’t have a say.” I ignored her completely and looked at Nolan. “I’m going to ask you one last time. Are you really selling it?” “Of course he is!” my mother-in-law barked. “Why else would we be here? You think we don’t have better things to do?” The rest of his family immediately chimed in: “Exactly. Victoria is a major CEO. Her wanting to buy this dump is doing you a favor. Don’t be ungrateful.” “Nolan’s been with you for seven years, and what have you done for him? Now he’s giving you half the money from the sale, and you’re still complaining?” My brother-in-law’s son was standing in the back, holding up his phone recording a video, muttering: “Let’s post this on TikTok so everyone can see what a stingy bitch my sister-in-law is.” Jessica stood up instantly, pointing a lethal finger at him. “What the hell are you filming? Put the phone down right now.” He flinched and took a step back, but his mouth kept running: “Who the hell are you? Mind your own business!” Nolan slid the contract across the table to Victoria. “Victoria, ignore them. Just sign it.” Victoria took the contract and pulled a designer pen from her blazer pocket. “Harper, don’t worry. The restaurant will be in much better hands with me. You’re welcome to come back and eat anytime. It’s on the house.” She uncapped the pen. “Hold on.” I reached out and blocked the contract with my hand. Victoria looked up, her pen hovering in the air. Nolan frowned deeply. “Harper, what are you doing?” My mother-in-law immediately screeched, “I knew she was going to cause a scene! Victoria, ignore her! Just sign it!” My sister-in-law stepped in front of me defensively. “Harper, I’m warning you, don’t push your luck!” I ignored all of them. My eyes were locked entirely on Nolan. “Don’t be in such a rush. Wait until you read these documents. Then you can decide if you still want to sell it to her.” I took a thick manila envelope from Jessica and slammed it onto the table. Nolan froze. “What is this?” “Read it and find out.” He looked at me suspiciously, picked up the envelope, and pulled out the stack of papers inside. He only had to look at the very first page before his pupils violently shrank.

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I am the girlfriend of a serial killer. I am also completely brain-dead. At least, that’s what I want him to believe. My boyfriend, Elias Vance, loves me with a terrifying intensity. He adores me precisely because I remain in an endless sleep, unlike the ninety-nine “players” who came before me, always poking around, trying to unearth his dark secrets. The last fool who dared to venture into the basement in search of clues found himself dissolved in high-grade acid and flushed down the sewer pipes that very same night. Every evening, Elias presses his heavy body against mine, his breath ragged in my ear. “I miss you so much. Please wake up, just for me, okay?” I am usually so paralyzed with primal terror that I almost squeeze him back in reflex. I must maintain the charade; I must remain the perfect vegetable. If the graphic details of how he dismembers his victims are any indication, my fate would be infinitely worse if he discovered the truth. I’ve been trapped inside this horrific, simulated horror game for two endless years. Playing dead is my only lifeline. Until today, when the new caregiver arrived. Taking advantage of the moment we were alone, she leaned in and whispered directly into my ear: “Stop faking it. I know you’re wide awake.” … Caregiver Maya’s fingers dug ruthlessly into the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh. “Speak to me!” I gave absolutely zero response. The EKG monitor continued its steady, maddening beep… beep… beep… “My System interface shows your brainwave activity spiked at 180. You are absolutely not a vegetable.” Maya increased the pressure, her sharp fingernails almost puncturing my skin. “Don’t imagine for a single second you can fool the System! Those ninety-nine players before me are all dead, and you think you’re the one who gets to survive to the end by lying here like a coward?” “I’m a player too.” “And I have a primary objective.” “The moment I expose your charade, I earn ten thousand points.” “That is my ticket out of this living hellscape!” She leaned in closer, her voice thick with suppressed, desperate madness. I remained perfectly still, my eyes closed, the rhythm of my shallow breathing unchanging. Maya recoiled half a step with a look of pure disgust, finally loosening her murderous grip. “What an actress.” “You miserable coward, using ‘playing dead’ as a survival strategy? Are you even human?” She reached into the pocket of her pristine white lab coat and pulled out a long, silver needle. “System-issued item,” she boasted. “Amplifies physical pain by a factor of ten, leaving zero trace of the puncture.” She raised the needle high, targeting my fingertips, poised to thrust it downward with brutal force. BANG. “I’m home, baby!” The heavy, reinforced security door was violently thrown open. Maya’s hand jerked violently in surprise, and the silver needle went wide, stabbing into the cotton bedsheet instead. She instantly retracted the needle, wiped the malice from her expression, and replaced it with a mask of quiet, submissive professionalism as she retreated to the side of my hospital bed. A thick, metallic stench of fresh blood saturated the room long before Elias himself crossed the threshold. Elias strode into the room. He was wearing a crisp white dress shirt, the hem saturated with dried blood that had turned a sickening dark brown. He was casually carrying a pink, cardboard bakery box that was still dripping fresh red liquid onto the hardwood floor. Elias walked directly to my bedside, tossing the bakery box onto my nightstand without a second thought. The impact caused the box to spring open, and a severed human head rolled out onto the wood surface. The hazy, grayish-white eyes were frozen wide open in terror, and the neck was a gory mess of red veins, raw muscle, and shattered cartilage. “Look, my darling.” Elias sat down heavily on the edge of the mattress, reaching out a hand to stroke my bloodless cheek. His fingertips were rough, covered in thick calluses earned from years of gripping various sharp butcher knives. “This belonged to that neighbor who was so eager to call the authorities.” “The one who claimed he was going to expose the secrets in my basement to the Bureau.” “The one who was going to send a SWAT team to raid our home.” Elias let out a low chuckle. It was a pleasant, rich sound on the surface, but it contained an undercurrent that made my blood run cold. “So, I made him watch as his own body was put through a massive industrial meat grinder, piece by piece.” I remained perfectly still, my eyes closed, giving absolutely zero reaction to the gory trophy resting just inches from my face. Maya, standing in the dark corner of the room, clapped her hands over her mouth too late, letting out a violent, dry heave. “Gag!” The motion of Elias’s hand stroking my cheek instantly froze. He slowly turned his head to the corner, focusing on Maya. “A new hire?” Maya’s face went chalk-white, her legs shaking so violently that she collapsed onto her knees with a loud thud. “Mr…. Mr. Vance…” “No manners.” Elias casually raised his hand. A flash of silver light flew from his sleeve with terrifying speed. A scalpel, honed to a razor edge, transfixed Maya’s left shoulder, the massive force of the throw driving her backward and pinning her mercilessly to the pristine white plaster wall. A blood-curdling shriek shattered the dead silence of the room. Elias didn’t even grant her a second glance as he turned back to me. Using that same blood-stained hand, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his smartphone, and tapped on a video link. He held the glowing screen directly in front of my closed eyelids. The audio exploded from the speakers: the high-pitched, terrifying whine of a chainsaw tearing through solid bone, mixed with a man’s final, guttural screams of utter despair. “Just listen to that sound, my sweet. Isn’t it exquisite?” “You know, the neighbor was begging for his life right up until the very end.” “He claimed he had a wife and children waiting for him.” “But why should I care about any of that?” “My world begins and ends with you.” “Anyone who tries to interfere with us, anyone who tries to disturb our peace… they must die.” I continued to lie there in perfect silence, zero micro-movements of my eyes beneath my lids. Maya was struggling violently, unable to dislodge the blade, fresh blood saturating the wall. [System! Why can’t I trigger a primary objective completion confirmation?! I know she’s faking!] She was screaming inside her head to her System interface. I couldn’t see the visual interface she was looking at, but I could imagine her sheer desperation at that moment. Elias switched off his phone and casually wiped the blood from his fingers onto the clean sleeve of my hospital gown. “Did you like it?” I was as silent and still as a fresh corpse. The corner of Elias’s mouth curled into a look of pure, twisted fascination. “So perfectly obedient.” “You are the only one who will never betray me, right?” He stood up from the bed, strolled over to where Maya was pinned, and casually ripped the scalpel from her shoulder with one violent yank. Fresh blood sprayed across the room. Maya collapsed onto the floor, clutching her shoulder, her eyes wide with a horrific cocktail of terror and pure hatred. Elias slapped the flat of the bloody blade against Maya’s cheek several times, a sickeningly casual gesture. “Don’t imagine for a single second I don’t see through the games of you ‘players’.” “You’re all looking for clues, hoping to find my weaknesses.” “But none of you are useful. You aren’t even worthy of being preserved as taxidermy specimens in my collection.” “I don’t care who planted you as her caregiver.” “But if you fail to take perfect care of her, the next time this blade leaves my hand, it gets pinned into your brain.” Maya spent the next three days recovering from her injury. During that time, she didn’t dare lift a hand against me. She just sat on the chair by my bedside, a nervous wreck, whispering under her breath over and over again. “Points… redeem… System items…” She was exchanging her earned points for an item. I remained perfectly still, maintaining my breathing at a constant twelve breaths per minute. Elias wasn’t home. Due to the recent string of high-profile serial murders in the city, the Bureau was cracking down hard, and he had a lot of “loose ends” to process. Maya stood up from the chair. She was holding a syringe filled with a terrifying, neon pink liquid. “A customized cocktail of neuro-stimulants and a systemic truth serum,” she sneered, looking down at me like I was an insect. “I spent five hundred points on this premium System item.” “Once this enters your system, even a fresh corpse would sit up and recite Pi to the hundredth decimal place.” She aggressively purged the air from the syringe, and a nauseating, chemical odor instantly drifted into my nose. “Go ahead and take it. When this is over, you’ll finally be free.” She roughly grabbed my arm, slamming the needle mercilessly into my vein. I felt the freezing liquid being forced into my bloodstream. Maya let go of my arm, took two steps back, and a horrific, fanatical grin spread across her face. She pulled out a miniature high-definition video camera and aimed the lens directly at my face. “Answer me! Are you faking this?!” “Tell the camera who you really are!” The liquid burned like gasoline as it coursed through my veins. My nerve endings started misfiring, sending random signals, and my muscles began to twitch uncontrollably, desperate to spasm. An intense, overwhelming compulsion to speak, to confess everything, hammered at my brain like a physical force. Maya shoved the camera right against my mouth. “Say it! Tell the lens the truth!” I felt my Adam’s apple bob violently. “Blech!” I violently threw my head to the side. A massive stream of acidic stomach fluid and bile exploded from my mouth, splashing directly onto her designer sneakers. Maya froze in sheer disbelief. “Impossible! A System-issued serum cannot fail!” “Tell me! Tell me who you are!” Panicking, she grabbed my shoulders, violently shaking me back and forth. My mouth opened again, a reflexive action beyond my control. “Blergh!” Even more vomit sprayed from my stomach, saturating the bottom half of her pants. Maya let out a piercing shriek, jumping back in disgust. “Damn it! My limited edition Jordans!” She raised her leg high, aiming a brutal stomp directly at my exposed stomach. “Don’t you dare.” A voice as cold as absolute zero drifted from the bedroom doorway. Elias stood there, casually holding a massive firefighter’s axe that was dripping fresh blood onto the hardwood floor. He glanced at the disgusting mess on the floor, then at the vomit covering Maya’s expensive clothes. His brows knotted together in deep revulsion. “What is this?” He gestured with the bloody axe toward the acidic pool on the floor that was saturating the air with a horrific, pungent stench. Maya froze in primal terror, retracting her leg instantly, frantically trying to hide the miniature camera behind her back. “Mr…. Mr. Vance, this is… it’s just a liquid nutritional supplement I was trying to feed her.” “Supplement?” Elias took several strides toward us. His custom dress shoes made an agonizingly heavy clack… clack… sound against the wood. “Funny. It smells exactly like an emetic drug.” He walked directly to my bedside, reaching out a cold hand to feel my forehead. No fever. “Did my baby throw up?” I remained perfectly still, my eyes closed, a trace of bile on the corner of my mouth, giving zero reaction. Elias turned his head, staring dead at Maya’s shoes. The camera lens hadn’t been hidden properly, and the light from the overhead lamp glinted off the glass, exposing it. “What is that?” Maya’s face went instantly chalk-white, a cold sweat saturating her back. “This… this is…” Elias delivered a brutal swing with the axe. The blade completely cleaved through the front tip of Maya’s limited edition shoe and smashed the camera into unrecognizable pieces. Plastic shards and splinters of bone flew across the room. “AGHHHH—!” Maya collapsed onto the floor, clutching her bloody, mutilated foot, rolling and screaming in agony. “I utterly despise spies and hidden surveillance,” Elias announced coldly, letting the heavy axe fall to the floor with a dull thud. “Drag her away. Sever the hand that was holding that camera.” “If she dares to use a device like that against her, this hand is useless to her.” The iron door to the basement was thrown open, and several massive, vicious guard dogs that Elias kept in the basement lunged out, dragging Maya down the stairs by her legs. The shrieks of terror turned into desperate gurgles, before being completely silenced by the heavy, reinforced metal door clicking shut. Elias filled a basin with warm water and grabbed a clean white towel. His movements were heartbreakingly gentle as he meticulously wiped the bile from the corner of my mouth. “Baby, you mustn’t eat anything anyone gives you from now on.” “It’s dirty.” Maya didn’t die. She spent three thousand of her accumulated points to buy a System-issued item called “Limb Regeneration Fluid.” The very next day, she appeared in the living room with both hands completely intact. However, her face was even paler than usual, and the look she directed at me was no longer just malice—it was the look of someone staring at a specimen about to be dissected. Elias displayed zero surprise at her miraculous recovery. In this simulated horror game world, he had witnessed plenty of bizarre and supernatural events. Regenerating limbs was just a standard “player perk.” As long as that perk didn’t threaten his dominance, he could tolerate it. He actually seemed to view her recovery as an amusing magic trick. “That medicine of yours is actually more effective than anything the local hospitals carry.” Elias was lounging on the designer sofa, idly spinning a perfectly honed scalpel between his fingers. Maya was kneeling on the floor, her body trembling with terror. “This… it’s an ancient family recipe, passed down for generations.” “An ancient family recipe? Then hand it over.” Elias said it casually, but the tip of the scalpel dug into the glass surface of the coffee table, creating a grating screech. Maya gritted her teeth, a flash of ruthless intent crossing her eyes. “The primary ingredient… it requires a living human heart.” “Specifically… the brain of someone in a deep coma!” She violently snapped her head up, pointing a trembling finger directly at me as I lay on my hospital bed. “Mr. Vance, she’s never going to wake up. She is the ultimate catalyst!” “If you allow me to harvest her brain, I can synthesize the ultimate potion for you: the elixir of Omniscience and Omnipotence!” She dropped the act entirely. She wanted me dead. Omniscience and Omnipotence. That was the ultimate endgame for every Big BOSS inside this entire horror game universe. The motion of Elias’s hand spinning the scalpel stopped instantly. He jammed the scalpel deep into the gap of the coffee table. He tilted his head, subjecting my lifeless expression to a cold, calculating analysis. I continued to lie there in perfect silence, the heart monitor producing a flat, unwavering wave. “Omniscience and Omnipotence?” Elias ripped the scalpel out of the table and casually blew the glass dust from the honed blade. “All I want in this entire world is for her to stay by my side forever. Why would I want to be omniscient?” “Knowing too many secrets and watching the universe slowly rot? That sounds like absolute torture.” He stood up from the sofa and strolled to my bedside. Maya refused to give up, her voice screaming in desperation. “Mr. Vance! Keeping this vegetable alive is a complete waste of expensive medical resources! It would be much better to…” “Shut up.” Elias cut her off, his voice absolute zero. He casually raised both hands, placing them securely around my throat. He applied sudden, brutal force, completely cutting off my supply of oxygen. As my lungs were aggressively robbed of air, my body’s natural survival reflex began to scream in protest. But I maintained my perfect role as a living doll. Zero struggle. Zero furrowing of my brow. Zero movement of my eyelids. The EKG monitor began producing a frantic, piercing alarm. The wave patterns on the display screen became utterly chaotic. Elias stared dead into my eyes, watching as my pale face turned red, then a bruised purple, and finally a sickening, breathless blue. One minute. Two minutes. Right at the very final second before I would have descended into irreversible asphyxia and shock, Elias released his grip. Fresh oxygen aggressively flooded into my lungs, but I forced my muscles not to convulse in a gasp. I continued to lie perfectly still, relying entirely on the mechanical ventilator to slowly stabilize my breathing rhythm. Elias’s expression transformed into one of pure, twisted fascination at my zero reaction. “She is my girlfriend. She is my exclusive property.” “Whether I kill her or not depends entirely on my mood.” He turned his back on the bed, looking down at the kneeling Maya. “You want to kill her?” Maya’s body gave a violent shiver, and she dropped her head to the floor, terrified to speak. “Plenty of people have wanted to kill her.” Elias cracked a grin, but there was zero warmth in his eyes. “Last month, that player who claimed to be ‘high-ranking’ also wanted to kill her, saying she was the primary objective of his level-clearance task.” “Later, I flayed him alive and turned him into the custom rug in the living room.” Elias walked directly to Maya, using the spine of the bloody scalpel to casually slap against her cheek. “Would you like to try your luck?” Maya’s System interface was flashing frantically. She collapsed onto the floor, saturated in cold sweat. “I… I wouldn’t dare.” Elias let out a cold snort and retracted the scalpel. “Tonight is the standard monthly convergence at the Crimson Moon Club. The Big BOSSes from all the districts will be attending.” “Get her cleaned up.” “Put her in that black formal gown.” “After all, this is going to be her final public appearance.” He said the final part with a soft whisper. But I heard it clearly. Elias wants to kill me? Maya heard it too. The terror in her eyes evaporated instantly, replaced by a fanatical, greedy fire. She scrambled up from the floor, marched to my bedside, and violently ripped the blankets off my body. Her sharp fingernails dug into my flesh again as she pretended to adjust my clothes. This time, she lowered her voice and let out a rich, malicious giggle. “Did you hear that, you useless trash?” “Tonight is your execution date.” “That brain of yours is officially mine.” The Crimson Moon Club’s convergence was hosted inside a massive, retrofitted underground fallout shelter. The facility was blindingly bright, and heavy industrial metal music was deafening. I was strapped tightly into my specialized wheelchair and pushed to the absolute center of the grand main hall. Elias was lounging on the opulent leather sofa beside me, wearing a blood-red designer suit, his powerful aura completely dominating everyone else in attendance. I was trapped in a pristine black evening gown, my neck locked into place by a specialized brace. I had to act like a perfect plastic mannequin, staring vacantly forward. Maya stood behind my wheelchair, holding a goblet filled with a thick, crimson-red liquid. Her eyes were constantly darting to the center of the room, focusing on a man holding a massive industrial chainsaw. That was her backup plan. If she failed to complete her objective through Elias, she was going to try and conquer the Chainsaw Killer. “Elias, I’ve heard rumors that you’ve been bored lately.” The Chainsaw Killer stood up from his chair, raising his glass. His voice sounded like rusty metal scraping together. “Is bringing a vegetable to a party your idea of entertainment?” Every single eye in the grand hall instantly snapped to me. I saw expressions of cruel mockery, gleeful anticipation, and brutal calculation. Everyone in this simulated universe knew Elias Vance, the most psychotic of them all, kept a completely insensate piece of trash by his side. Elias casually peeled a dark purple grape. The juice stained his naturally pale fingertips a violent red, looking exactly like blood. “What I choose to bring to my own convergence is none of your damn business.” He casually popped the grape into his mouth, crunching through the skin and seeds with deliberate force. “As long as she remains perfectly obedient by my side, that is all that matters.” The Chainsaw Killer let out a piercing, roaring laugh. “Perfectly obedient? Then she is no different than the dead pigs hanging in a slaughterhouse!” “Elias, you’re the Big BOSS of District A, and you keep a dead pig as a pet?” The room erupted into high-pitched, mocking laughter. These psychopaths, who were usually terrified by Elias’s dominance, were taking advantage of the alcohol to vent their frustration. Elias didn’t get angry. He simply tilted his head, subjecting my bloodless face to a heartbreakingly affectionate gaze. “Baby, they are calling you a pig.” I stared forward with wide, empty eyes, giving zero reaction. A small stream of drool slowly dripped from the corner of my mouth, staining the front of my expensive black gown. Elias smiled. He reached out an incredibly gentle hand to stroke my hair. “So good.” And then, Maya moved. She suddenly stepped forward and dropped to her knees in the center of the grand hall. “Bosses! Mr. Vance!” “She isn’t a vegetable at all! She is… hiding her true nature!” The deafening industrial metal music was cut off instantly. The massive hall descended into a terrifying, dead silence. Elias’s hand froze on my head, his fingers clenching into a tight fist. He grabbed a fistful of my hair tightly. “Oh?” The Chainsaw Killer looked intrigued, stepping forward with his heavy weapon. “How, exactly, is she hiding?” Maya threw her head up, staring dead into my eyes with a look of pure, poisonous malice. “She has been faking this entire time. Her intellect is incalculable; she is actually manipulating everything from the shadows.” “I saw the anomalies on the EKG monitor with my own eyes. She is utilizing her brainwave frequencies to leave… an encoded SOS signal.” Encoded SOS signal. Those words caused the atmosphere in the room to turn completely frigid. Inside the horror game world, trying to contact the outside for help was the ultimate taboo. Elias’s grip on my head violently yanked backward. Head-splitting, tearing agony ripped across my scalp. I was forced to tilt my head back, locking eyes with his, which were now bloodshot and utterly lethally cold. “An SOS signal?” Elias’s voice was soft, but it sent a violent shiver down the spines of everyone in the room. “Bring it here.” Maya pulled a thermal-paper printout of an EKG graph from her lab coat. She had utilized the System to forcefully forge the evidence. The paper clearly displayed an irregular pattern of wave spikes, with the deciphered Morse code annotated next to it. [HELP. I AM IN THE BASEMENT.] This was a simulated death trap. Elias casually took the paper. He subjected it to a cold, contemptuous glance. Then, he slammed it down onto the table directly in front of my face. Furthermore, he reached into his bag and pulled out a solid silver lighter. Click. A ghostly blue flame flickered to life. He grabbed a bottle of high-proof imported vodka from the table and aggressively poured it directly over the front of my formal gown. The pungent, suffocating stench of pure alcohol saturated the air. He held the lighter flame right at my chest, just one centimeter from the soaked fabric. “Baby.” Elias’s voice was vibrating with a sick, psychotic tremor. “Did you leave this signal?” Maya knelt on the ground, screaming hoarsely. “Stop pretending! Confess! As soon as you admit it, the System will pull you out of the game!” She was trying to force my hand. Elias’s patience was dropping rapidly. The flame inched closer to my body. “Three.” “Two.” The flame licked the edge of the gown.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “399965”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After my rebirth, I intentionally kept missing my fiancé at every turn. If he left work through the front doors of the command building, I took the back exit. When he took his first love out to the movies, I stayed home alone, quietly organizing my case files. All because in my past life, I forced him to marry me, perfectly aware that his heart belonged to another woman. But after we married, he left me to sleep in an empty bed for the rest of my life. We became the most notoriously miserable couple on the military base. He hated me for pulling strings to get his first love transferred to a remote, desolate border outpost. And I hated him for marrying me but never showing me an ounce of affection. Over ten years of marriage, we tore each other to pieces in countless, bitter arguments. It wasn’t until I was diagnosed with terminal bone cancer that he finally started treating me with gentleness and taking care of me. I foolishly thought he had finally learned to love me. But when my last round of chemo failed, right as I was about to close my eyes for the final time, he whispered: “I’ve repaid the debt I owed your father.” “In the next life, don’t marry me. I won’t need you or your father to save me. Let’s just spare each other.” When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day the military was assigning cross-base transfers. I marched straight into the Chief of Staff’s office. “My military background makes me a much better fit for the remote outpost in Alaska.” Liam, I thought to myself. In this life, I’m leaving your true love right by your side. I’m giving you your freedom back. Colonel Reynolds looked up from his stack of paperwork, his brows furrowing. “You submitted three separate transfer requests last month, explicitly pulling strings so you could stay here at Base Command with your fiancé. That’s the only reason we put Sarah on the deployment roster instead.” “We finally got the orders finalized, and now you want to change it again?” I slid the application form across the desk, standing perfectly at attention. “Sir, I’ve thought it through. I am volunteering for the remote outpost in Alaska.” Colonel Reynolds stared at me for a long time before finally waving his hand dismissively. “Suit yourself. But let me remind you, that base is isolated in the mountains, sitting at sub-zero temperatures with brutal conditions. The last officer we sent up there had a boyfriend waiting for her for two years… she ended up leaving him for a civilian contractor.” I saluted him, turned on my heel, and walked out. Out in the hallway, my colleagues were clustered around the bulletin board. Sarah Jenkins’ name was at the very top of the deployment list. Her head was bowed, her eyes rimmed with red. A few other officers were whispering consolations to her. “You got straight A’s on your psychological operations evaluations. If it weren’t for someone relying on nepotism…” “Seriously. You and Colonel Hayes were practically engaged, and then this happened…” The whispering abruptly ceased the moment I appeared. A dozen pairs of eyes stabbed into me like knives. I walked straight through the crowd, my expression completely blank. In everyone’s eyes, I was the despicable villain who stole Sarah’s man. But it didn’t matter. I would be giving Liam Hayes back to her very soon. In my past life, when Liam was leading a special ops team on a border mission, his unit was ambushed. My father, a General, defied direct orders and led a rescue team to extract him. My father took a fatal bullet and died a hero. I had weaponized that suffocating guilt to force Liam into marrying me. I knew he was deeply in love with his childhood sweetheart, Sarah, so I manipulated the system to deploy her to the frozen wasteland of Alaska. I used to think that as long as I gave enough of myself, I could eventually win his heart. So, I woke up two hours early every day to organize his training schedules. I stayed up all night helping him run tactical simulations. I stocked every drawer in our quarters with his ulcer medication and frostbite ointment. Slowly, he began to tolerate me straightening his uniform collar. He stopped pulling his hand away when I reached for it. He even started accompanying me to midnight movie premieres. I honestly thought he was finally falling for me. Until the night I suddenly collapsed during a joint-forces training exercise. Liam rushed me to the hospital and paced outside the operating room all night. Because of that, he missed an emergency SOS transmission from Sarah. The next morning, the devastating news arrived: Sarah’s recon unit had been ambushed in a blizzard, and she had died covering her team’s retreat. After that, Liam went to Arlington National Cemetery and stood silently in front of her headstone for an entire day. He never spoke her name again. Shortly after my surgery, I was diagnosed with bone cancer. Liam requested a transfer out of his combat unit and spent the next five years exclusively taking care of me. To any outsider, he was the absolute perfect, flawless husband. But I was the only one who knew the truth. When he looked at me, there was never any tenderness in his eyes. There was only a suffocating, mandatory debt that had to be repaid. A wave of bitter acidity washed over my heart. I took a deep breath, forcing down the turbulent emotions. This time, I was going to let them have their happy ending. And I was going to set myself free. After work, Liam came down to the administrative building to pick me up, as usual. The walk to his truck was dead silent. I knew he had already seen the updated deployment roster. I opened my mouth to explain, but he cut me off: “Sarah is deploying to Alaska next month. A few of the guys from our old unit are getting together tonight for a farewell dinner.” “You stole her spot here at Command. Morally speaking, you need to be there.” I didn’t say another word. I just followed him into the private room of the restaurant. Sarah was sitting in the center of the table, her eyes still red from crying. Someone had deliberately left the seat next to her empty for Liam. He sat down naturally. Without caring, I walked over to the furthest empty seat near the door. As soon as we sat down, Sarah raised her glass of whiskey. “Liam, thank you for always looking out for me all these years. This one’s for you.” Out of sheer muscle memory, I reached out to stop him. “He has a bad stomach ulcer. He can’t drink.” In my past life, I tagged along to every single one of his dinners just to intercept drinks for him. But this time, Liam completely ignored me. He picked up his glass and downed the whiskey in one shot. Sarah smiled softly. “See? Liam can drink just fine.” A guy sitting next to them chimed in, “Major Carter, you clearly don’t understand our Commander. Whether he can drink or not depends entirely on who he’s drinking with.” A chorus of knowing, muffled laughter echoed around the table. Liam didn’t say a word to defend me. The conversation quickly shifted to their shared past—surviving boot camp together, coming home for the holidays from West Point… Every single memory was a timeline I could never be a part of. I ate my food in silence. In my past life, I fought so desperately to force my way into his world, completely forgetting that to him, I was nothing but an unwanted burden. When dinner ended, someone suggested going to the movies. Liam looked at me. “Take an Uber home yourself.” With that, he walked out the door with Sarah and the others. When I got back to the base housing, my phone rang. It was Mrs. Henderson—a Gold Star mother who had reached out for help last week. Ever since her son was killed in action, her survivor housing benefits had been stalled in bureaucratic limbo. I had spent the last few days running around base, compiling all the necessary documentation for her. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Henderson. I’ll go coordinate with the housing office first thing tomorrow morning.” After hanging up, I went into the home office to grab the blue folder containing her files. It was gone. I waited until 9:30 PM when Liam finally returned. I immediately asked him: “Have you seen the housing documents for Mrs. Henderson?” Liam hung his patrol cap on the rack, his tone perfectly flat. “I gave them to Sarah.” “I already spoke to your department head. That case has been transferred to her.” I froze for a second, then marched straight toward the front door. “No. I’m going to go get them back.” Liam grabbed my arm, his brow furrowed in deep annoyance. “It’s just a routine housing allowance. The stipends add up to a few hundred bucks at most. Why are you being so petty?” “I promised Mrs. Henderson I would handle it personally.” “Sarah is deploying to Alaska soon. When the end-of-year evaluations come around, handling a high-profile veteran’s case like this will look great on her record. She needs this more than you do.” I was just about to tell him that I was the one deploying to Alaska, when Liam’s phone buzzed. It was Sarah. She had questions about the paperwork. Liam turned and walked into the study, his voice instantly softening. “Under the Military Survivor Benefits Act, Section 28… yeah, read that part first.” “For cases like this, you can reference the precedent from the Western Command last year. I’ll email you the file.” I stood frozen in the hallway. I remembered my past life, when I had just transferred to the Family Programs department. I was dealing with a massively complex military dependent dispute, and I went to ask him for advice, since he was an experienced Special Forces Commander. He had merely glanced at the file. “These are basic policy issues. Don’t you know how to look up the regulations yourself?” I tried to explain: “I did look them up, but the criteria for combat-related disability ratings is vague…” He had cut me off instantly. “I don’t have time for this. I have a training sim tomorrow.” I had stayed up for three consecutive nights untangling that bureaucratic mess myself. The day the issue was finally resolved, I excitedly told him about it. He just gave a dismissive “Mhm.” I always thought it was because he was too busy, because my work was too trivial. Now I finally understood the truth—he just didn’t want to waste a single second of his time on me. The phone call in the study lasted for over an hour. I turned and walked back to the master bedroom. My phone vibrated—a photo from Liam’s buddy, Marcus. In the dim lighting of the movie theater, Sarah had her arm looped tightly through Liam’s. He wasn’t pushing her away. Right beneath the photo was a text: [Some things just can’t be forced.] I stared at the picture and let out a self-deprecating laugh. I opened my chat history with Marcus and scrolled up. The entire log was filled with messages I had sent in the past: “Marcus, Liam’s birthday is coming up. Do you guys know what he’s been wanting lately?” “Last time you mentioned your kid likes model jets, I had a friend track down a limited edition one for him…” Every single text I sent reeked of careful, desperate people-pleasing. And every single reply from Marcus was polite, short, and completely dismissive. I had degraded myself to such pathetic depths just for a one-sided love. I tapped Marcus’s profile and permanently deleted him. I turned off the lamp and lay down. There was no phantom, agonizing ache from the bone cancer, and there was no suffocating anxiety over whether Liam loved me. For the first time since my rebirth, I slept incredibly deeply. The next morning, I went to the base hospital for a full physical. In my past life, the oncologist had told me that if my cancer had been caught earlier, the survival rate would have been significantly higher. In this life, a healthy body was my most valuable asset. Just as I checked in at 8:30 AM, Liam called me. “Come to my office right now. It’s an emergency.” “I’m at the hospital getting a physical.” “Your physical can wait,” his voice was dictatorial and unquestionable. “I just got emergency orders to attend a joint-command seminar. You need to take my Spec Ops cadets to their tactical simulation. You already know the entire curriculum.” In my past life, demands like this were a daily occurrence. I edited his cadets’ training reports, coordinated simulation resources, and even drove sick cadets to the ER in the middle of the night. When he’d get back and I’d brief him on everything I did, he would just toss out a casual, “Thanks for the hard work.” As if I was his personal, unpaid assistant. “Those are your cadets. Make your own arrangements,” I replied coldly. The line went dead silent for two seconds before Liam’s voice dropped into a dark growl. “I do not have the time right now—” I hung up on him. My test results came back quickly. The military doctor pointed at my CT scans. “There are no signs of malignant tumors right now. But a few of your blood markers are slightly elevated. I’m prescribing some preventative meds. We’ll need you to come in for regular checkups.” I took the lab results, my fingers trembling slightly. The massive boulder crushing my chest was finally lifted. As I walked out of the hospital, an Instagram notification popped up on my phone. One of Liam’s cadets had posted a video story. In the video, Sarah was at the tactical simulation center leading the cadets. The camera panned, capturing Liam rushing into the room. In the background, the cadets could be heard saying: “Lieutenant Jenkins’ commands were flawless today!” “Commander Hayes and Lieutenant Jenkins look so perfect standing next to each other!” In the final few seconds of the video, Liam suddenly swayed. He clutched his stomach, his face draining of all color, and collapsed to the floor. “Liam!” Sarah screamed in horror. The video cut off. It was only then that I realized I hadn’t reminded him to take his ulcer medication for two days. My phone rang. It was Sarah, her voice thick with tears. “Evelyn, get to the base ER right now! Liam has a bleeding ulcer, he’s in emergency surgery! I don’t have his military ID or his insurance card, they won’t let me process the paperwork!” When I arrived at the hospital, the red light above the operating room was still on. Sarah and several of the cadets were huddled outside the doors. A male cadet spotted me and immediately glared. “You know Commander Hayes has a terrible stomach condition. Why didn’t you remind him to take his meds?” A female cadet chimed in quietly, “If you had just helped cover the simulation like he asked, he wouldn’t have had to rush back in such a panic.” Sarah pulled the girl’s sleeve gently. “Stop it. The most important thing right now is that Liam pulls through.” I ignored all of them, walking straight to the nurses’ station. I used my military ID to process all of his admission paperwork. An hour later, the operating room doors swung open. The surgeon walked straight toward Sarah. “Family?” “I am,” Sarah lied smoothly. “How is he?” “Acute gastric hemorrhage. We’ve stopped the bleeding. Moving forward, he needs a strict diet and has to take his medication exactly on schedule.” As the surgeon gave his instructions, Sarah nodded repeatedly, and the cadets listened with rapt attention. No one noticed me standing in the corner. I waited until the surgeon finished speaking. I walked over, shoved the payment receipts and medical chart into Sarah’s hands, and said: “I’m leaving.” As I turned and walked down the hallway, the sound of their voices faded away behind me. Over the next few days, I buried myself in my remaining paperwork and drafted my formal handover reports. A week later, I came home to the base housing. The moment I pushed the door open, I froze. Liam was sitting on the living room sofa, his face still pale. Sarah was sitting right next to him, peeling an apple for him. Liam’s parents were also there. His mother shot me a cold glance. “You finally decided to come home?” I nodded as a greeting and turned to head to my bedroom. His father barked, “Stop right there! Liam was in the hospital for days, and you didn’t show your face once. Now that he’s home, you’re not even going to ask how he is?!” His mother piled on. “You were the one who practically begged for the joint-assignment paperwork to get him! Now that you’ve trapped him, this is how little you care?!” I turned back around. “Actually, I—” “Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, please don’t be angry,” Sarah interrupted with her soft, gentle voice. “Evelyn has been incredibly busy at work. I’m sure she feels terrible inside.” Liam’s mother’s face instantly softened. She patted Sarah’s hand affectionately. “At least you understand how to treat people.” Liam glanced at me, but ultimately said nothing. The four of them went back to chatting in low voices. The atmosphere was so warm and harmonious, they looked like the perfect family. Whatever. Explaining myself would be a waste of breath. I quietly walked into my room and shut the door. On my final day at Division Headquarters, I cleared out my office bright and early. I gave my potted plants to a colleague next door, archived all my classified files, and emptied my desk drawers. My entire life fit into a single camouflage tactical duffel bag. Just as I stepped out of the command building, a mob of people suddenly swarmed me. Several of them had heavy news cameras perched on their shoulders. “Major Carter! Do you have an explanation for the missing VA benefit files for Mrs. Henderson?!” “As the commanding officer in charge of her case, do you admit to gross negligence?!” Microphones were practically shoved into my eyeballs. I was pushed backward by the aggressive crowd. The sharp plastic edge of a camera lens slammed into my forehead, sending a dull throb of pain through my skull. Realizing things were escalating, I quickly turned around and retreated back into the secure building. The armed guards at the entrance immediately stepped up, blocking the reporters from entering. My heart was pounding wildly. My phone was vibrating non-stop. A colleague sent me a news link: [Military Officer Loses Critical Documents; Gold Star Mother’s Survivor Benefits Delayed for Six Months!] The article claimed that Mrs. Henderson’s son had been killed in action during a border operation. The survivor benefits she was legally entitled to had been stalled because her paperwork was “lost.” Worse, her husband was severely ill and desperately needed that money for life-saving surgery. At the bottom of the article was a leaked screenshot of the internal department task log. Under the “Lead Officer” column, it clearly stated: Evelyn Carter. My colleague sent another text: [Wait, wasn’t Sarah handling this case? When did it get transferred to you?] I frantically opened the internal department server and checked the logs. Two days ago, the name assigned to Mrs. Henderson’s file had somehow been manually changed from “Sarah Jenkins” to “Evelyn Carter.” A chill washed over my entire body. I immediately texted my Department Director: [Sir, why am I listed as the lead on Mrs. Henderson’s case? I have never touched those files.] I received an almost instant reply: [Sarah told me two days ago that she had already officially handed the case over to you, and that you agreed to process it. Why are you suddenly claiming ignorance now that it’s blown up in the press?] I found Sarah’s number and called her. The line was busy. I called her over a dozen times. Still unreachable. It wasn’t until the sky grew dark and the mob outside the building finally dispersed that Sarah answered her phone. I suppressed the boiling rage in my chest. “Where are you? We need to talk face-to-face.” From the other end of the line, I heard the clinking of bowls and spoons. Then came Sarah’s cheerful, smiling voice: “I’m over at your house! Liam just got discharged from the hospital and needs someone to look after him. I knew you were busy with work, so I came over to help cook dinner.” I hung up the phone. I sprinted back to the base housing and threw the front door open. Sarah was sitting right next to Liam, holding a bowl of soup. Seeing me walk in, she stood up. “Evelyn, you’re back! I made some—” I took a massive step forward and slapped her directly across the face. SMACK! The porcelain bowl shattered on the hardwood floor, hot soup splashing everywhere. Sarah clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with theatrical, absolute disbelief. Liam shot up from the sofa and grabbed my wrist. “Are you insane?!” I violently wrenched my arm free and glared at Sarah. “Where did you put the original case files? You are coming with me to the Director’s office right now to confess what you did.” Sarah’s eyes instantly filled with tears, spilling over her cheeks. “Evelyn, I’m so sorry… I was at the hospital taking care of Liam those few days, and I made a careless mistake at work… I’ll go explain it right now!” Liam grabbed her by the shoulders, stopping her. “No. If you step forward now, it will only make the media circus worse. They’ll put a permanent black mark of gross negligence on your record. You might even be dishonorably discharged.” He turned to look at me. “We’ll have Sarah admit there was a minor miscommunication during the handover. You will write the formal incident report and take the primary responsibility. That’s the only way to minimize the damage to the unit.” I let out a cold laugh. “So I’m just supposed to be the scapegoat? I am not taking the fall for her.” Liam stared at me in silence for a few seconds. He stepped closer, lowering his voice into a dark, terrifying whisper. “If you don’t take the fall for this, I will dig up the combat reports from the mission where your father died. I will expose his tactical command failures.” My entire body went rigid. I stared at him, looking at him like he was an alien creature. During that border mission, my father had defied direct orders specifically to save Liam’s trapped unit. He died taking a bullet meant for him. And now, Liam was weaponizing my father’s sacrifice to blackmail me. The living room was terrifyingly quiet. A long time passed before I finally spoke. My voice was completely raw. “I agree.” That night, a formal incident report bearing my name was published across the military’s internal intranet. The comment boards refreshed endlessly, every single message dripping with venom. People cursed me, saying I “didn’t deserve to wear the uniform.” Some doxxed my base housing address. Others took my official military portrait and photoshopped it with a black memorial ribbon. I shut my laptop, but the vicious words continued echoing in my skull. At 4:00 AM, I booted up my encrypted military terminal. I began compiling every single document related to Mrs. Henderson—the initial application logs, the scanned death certificates, the hospital diagnostic records. By the time the sun came up, I had encrypted and archived everything, saving three separate backups. The next morning at 9:00 AM, the doorbell rang. Sarah stood outside, holding an official military body-cam and a small tripod. Her tone was sickeningly sincere. “Evelyn, the Inspector General’s office asked me to record a quick video statement from you regarding the incident.” Liam had already left early for the training grounds. The red recording light blinked on. I sat down in front of the lens. “I am Major Evelyn Carter from Family Programs. Regarding the lost VA paperwork for Gold Star mother Mrs. Henderson, I sincerely apologize…” Just then, loud, chaotic noises erupted from the hallway outside my door. The shouting grew louder. “This is the unit! Evelyn Carter, get out here!” Fists started pounding violently against my front door, accompanied by furious screaming. I sensed something was horribly wrong. I instinctively looked over at Sarah. She was looking down at the screen of the body-cam. Her finger swiped quickly across the glass, a malicious smirk forming on her lips that she didn’t have time to hide. I lunged forward and snatched the device out of her hands. The screen wasn’t recording a private video file. It was an active Instagram Live stream. The viewer count read 178,000 and was climbing by the second. The live chat was scrolling at a blinding speed: [I knew it was her! She doesn’t give a damn about Gold Star families!] [Look at how robotic her apology is. Who is she trying to fool?] [How is trash like this allowed to be an officer?!] I looked up at Sarah. She offered a provocative, triumphant smile. “Evelyn, a live-streamed apology feels so much more sincere, don’t you think?” The pounding on the front door was getting louder, the wood beginning to splinter. I turned around, walked into the kitchen, and grabbed my heavy-duty tactical multi-tool—the one Liam used to use for wilderness survival training. I tapped my smartwatch and sent an emergency SOS alert to the Base Military Police. I walked back to the front door, took a deep breath, and violently ripped it open. I held up Sarah’s live-streaming device, pointing the camera directly at the faces of the people leading the mob: “Trespassing in a restricted military housing zone, right? Come on, let’s get you all on camera clearly. Building 7, Unit 3. I’ve already dispatched the Military Police.” In my other hand, I gripped the tactical knife, the heavy blade pointed toward the floor. The angry mob instantly went dead silent. The man leading the charge froze, glancing nervously over my shoulder at Sarah. She had long since retreated to the back of the living room, her face pale as a sheet. “H-hey! Don’t do anything crazy!” The man took a half-step back. I pointed the camera lens at my heavily dented door lock. “I am standing my ground. The MPs will be here in less than two minutes. Trespassing on a federal military installation is a felony. That’ll get you all locked up for a very long time.” People in the back of the crowd started quietly backing away. “Are you leaving or not?” I took one step forward. Half the mob instantly scattered. Five minutes later, the Military Police arrived and arrested the remaining stragglers. After giving my official statement and filling out the reports, I shut my broken door. I walked into my bedroom, opened the closet, and pulled out my tactical deployment duffel bag. I only packed my military ID, my driver’s license, my debit cards, a few sets of OCP uniforms, and my medical records. Everything else—the photos, the souvenirs, the expensive military watch Liam had gifted me—I didn’t touch a single one. Half an hour later, I carried my duffel bag downstairs. I waited at the gate for twenty minutes before catching a military transport shuttle heading to the joint-forces airfield. The driver was a veteran contractor in his late forties. “Heading to Alaska?” The veteran glanced at my heavy duffel in the rearview mirror. “Rushing home for the holidays?” I froze for a second. “It’s New Year’s Eve, Major,” the veteran said as he put the shuttle into gear. “Didn’t your family call to rush you home?” Outside the window, the sky was growing dark. In the distance, the scattered lights of the base glowed against the snow, and faint fireworks from a nearby town burst into the sky. “Yeah. I’m going home,” I said quietly. The shuttle drove out of the city and merged onto the desolate highway. The streetlights grew sparse, replaced by barren, frozen mountains on either side. Three hours later, the shuttle pulled up outside the military airfield. The massive engines of the C-17 transport plane roared against the freezing, biting wind. Standing in the dim, yellow light of the cargo bay, a profound, crystal-clear realization washed over me for the first time: This time, I was truly leaving Liam Hayes behind forever.

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I was seven months pregnant. After my prenatal checkup, I dozed off in the passenger seat on the ride home. But when I woke up, the baby in my belly was gone. I instantly freaked out, but my husband just smiled at me with absolute adoration. “Still half-asleep? You were never pregnant, honey. What baby?” I thought it was a sick joke and forced him to turn the car around and speed back to the hospital. But the nurses said I was there for a routine physical, not a prenatal exam. The OB-GYN shook her head and swore she had never seen me in her life. Even my own mother called me, her voice red and teary. “Sweetheart, is the stress of trying to conceive getting to you? Why don’t we go see a psychiatrist?” But just two hours ago, I had literally watched the tiny, beating heart of my child on the ultrasound monitor. How could a seven-month pregnancy just vanish into thin air like a magic trick? I refused to believe I was crazy. I called the cops, demanded security footage, and tore through the clinic’s records. There was absolutely zero trace of my pregnancy or my checkups. Everyone was convinced I had lost my mind. In a haze of heavy sedatives and utter despair, I slipped and fell from the hospital roof. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the morning of my prenatal checkup. 1 “Harper, time to get up. We can’t be late for your checkup today.” Liam’s voice floated through the bedroom door, as gentle and loving as always. I groggily opened my eyes, my hand instinctively dropping to my stomach. I froze for two seconds, then shot up in bed and yanked up my pajama shirt. It was round and heavy. The little one inside seemed to be startled by my sudden movement and gave me a sharp kick. My eyes instantly welled up with tears. In my previous life, today was the exact day Liam accompanied me to the Women’s Clinic for my seven-month checkup. After it was over, I felt incredibly drowsy and dozed off in the passenger seat. When I opened my eyes again, my stomach was completely flat. The baby was gone. My husband claimed I had never been pregnant. The nurses said I was there for a basic physical. Even my own mother told me my anxiety over getting pregnant had caused me to hallucinate. I refused to accept it. I caused a massive scene at the hospital, and eventually, security dragged me away and admitted me to a psych ward. But even as I fell from that rooftop to my death, I couldn’t understand it. How could a seven-month-old fetus, a baby I had felt moving inside me, just vanish without a trace? They all said she was a figment of my imagination. But right now, she was unequivocally resting inside my belly. I stroked my stomach, the tears silently falling down my cheeks. “What’s wrong, honey? Did you have a nightmare?” Liam leaned halfway into the room, pausing when he saw my red, teary eyes. I looked at him, my emotions an absolute tangled mess. In my previous life, he was exactly like this—gentle, considerate, the absolute best husband in the world. But after the baby disappeared, he was the one who swore I had never been pregnant, and he was the one who followed the doctor’s advice to lock me in a psychiatric facility. In this life, I didn’t know if I could trust him at all. But no matter what, until I uncovered the truth, I couldn’t tip my hand. “I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well,” I forced a tight smile. “I don’t feel like going out today. Let’s reschedule the checkup.” Liam paused, walking over to feel my forehead. “Are you feeling sick?” “Just really exhausted.” “Alright then. I’ll call the clinic and push it back three days,” he said, looking down at his phone. “That specialist is in the office on Wednesday anyway.” Watching his profile, my mind raced. In this life, if I just hid at home and refused to go to the clinic, would my baby be safe? But how long could I hide? I had to figure out exactly what happened in my previous life. Why did every single person swear I was never pregnant? I closed my eyes, pressing my palm against my skin, feeling the subtle movements of the little life inside me. It’s not a hallucination. I had three days to uncover the truth. The first day, I found nothing out of the ordinary. All I could do was take photos of every single prenatal medical record I had accumulated over the past seven months and back them up to a secure cloud drive. I remembered that in my past life, when I frantically searched the house for my old ultrasound printouts, they were all gone. Even the hospital’s security cameras magically had no record of me. But I still felt paranoid, so I booked a last-minute maternity photoshoot at a local portrait studio. During the shoot, I paid the assistants extra to take a ton of behind-the-scenes videos on my phone, clearly documenting me walking around with a massive baby bump. Only then did my anxiety ease slightly. Next, I called my mom. “Mom, I’m really craving your homemade lasagna.” “Of course, sweetie! I’ll make a huge batch and bring it over. You’re eating for two now, you need the calories.” “Mom, do you remember how many months pregnant I am right now?” “Seven months, Harper. How could your own mother forget that?” I recorded that entire conversation. In my past life, my mother had looked a police officer dead in the eye and told him I was never pregnant. In this life, no matter what crazy tricks they pulled, these audio files weren’t going to just vanish. The day of the rescheduled checkup arrived. Liam went to the billing counter to handle the copay, leaving me sitting on a bench in the waiting area. A nurse in standard pink scrubs walked over. Seeing my belly, she offered a warm smile. “Carrying high and pointy like that, I’d bet money it’s a boy.” Liam returned just in time to hear her and chimed in smoothly. “Boy or girl, I don’t care. If it’s a boy, we’ll protect his mom together. If it’s a girl, I’ll protect both my girls.” The nurse covered her mouth and giggled. “Oh my, your husband is so sweet.” I couldn’t bring myself to smile. I remembered this nurse. In my past life, she had said those exact same words: Carrying high and pointy, I’d bet money it’s a boy. But later, when I tore through the hospital looking for her, she had stared at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Ma’am, are you confused? You were here for a routine physical, not a prenatal exam.” This time, I had quietly opened the voice memo app on my phone and recorded her every word. The examination room was on the third floor. The OB-GYN doing my ultrasound was a middle-aged woman in her early forties with a gentle demeanor. Dr. Evans. In my past life, she was the one who examined me too. When the baby disappeared and I charged into her office demanding answers, she had looked completely bewildered. “Ma’am, I have never seen you before in my life. Are you sure you have the right doctor?” But my memory was crystal clear. It was her. I stared at her face. She was looking down, adjusting the monitor, completely oblivious to my intense glare. “Alright, go ahead and lay back. Lift your shirt for me.” I lay down. The cold gel hit my skin, and the probe slid across my stomach. The familiar, tiny silhouette appeared on the screen. “Developing beautifully,” Dr. Evans said. “The head circumference is slightly above average. Just keep an eye on your sugar intake so the baby doesn’t get too big for delivery.” I stared at the monitor, my eyes tearing up again. “Dr. Evans, could I take a quick picture with you?” She paused, surprised. I quickly added, “First-time mom. I just really want to document the journey.” She smiled warmly. “Of course. Go ahead.” I pulled out my phone, switched to the front camera, and leaned in close. Click. I looked down at the photo. Dr. Evans’s face, my face, and the ultrasound monitor clearly showing the baby in the background. It was all there. Crystal clear. Let’s see you try to deny this in this life, I thought fiercely. Walking out of the exam room, I purposely tracked down that nurse. “Nurse Rachel, could we grab a quick picture?” I held up my phone. “I’m making a pregnancy vlog for the baby.” Rachel was incredibly accommodating. “Where’s your husband? Let’s have him take a full-body shot of us.” Liam was pulled over, and he snapped several photos of Rachel and me. In every single photo, my massive baby bump was front and center. “Why are you so hyper today?” Liam asked with a chuckle. I put my phone in my purse. “First pregnancy, remember? I just want to make a lot of memories.” In reality, I wanted to make a lot of evidence. This time, I had photos, videos, audio recordings, and multiple witnesses. I refused to believe they could pull off whatever they did last time. Walking out of the hospital, Liam helped me into the passenger seat. “Tired? Take a quick nap. I’ll wake you when we get home.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to go home. I want to go to that famous brunch spot downtown.” He paused, then smiled. “Alright. Whatever the queen wants.” In my past life, I had fallen asleep in the car on the way home. When I woke up, my child was gone. This time, I absolutely refused to sleep. And I needed to be somewhere packed with people! The diner wasn’t far from the hospital. We got there in twenty minutes. But there was a massive crowd waiting outside. “Want to go somewhere else?” Liam asked. “No. I want this place.” I waddled over to the crowded waiting area and sat down. Liam offered a helpless smile and went to the host stand to put our name in. The waiting area was packed. A waitress carrying a tray walked over. “Ma’am, please have some crackers while you wait. We can’t have our expecting mothers going hungry.” She handed me a small bag of artisan crackers. I thanked her, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. With so many people watching, nothing could possibly happen to me here, right? I leaned back against the bench, watching the bustling crowd, but my eyelids started to feel incredibly heavy. I had barely slept the night before. Now, sitting in the warm, cozy waiting area, waves of unnatural exhaustion began crashing over me. I fought desperately to keep my eyes open, but my vision rapidly blurred into darkness. … “Harper?” Someone was shaking my shoulder. I jolted awake. My very first instinct was to grab my stomach. It was flat. I froze, and frantically felt it again. Flat. I violently yanked up my sweater. My stomach was completely smooth and flat. “What’s wrong?” Liam crouched in front of me, looking deeply confused. I opened my mouth, my voice trembling violently. “The baby is gone…” “What?” “The baby is gone!” I pointed at my stomach, screaming. “My seven-month-old baby is gone!” Liam froze for a second, then let out a soft chuckle. “Harper, are you still half-asleep? Since when were you ever pregnant?” I stared at him, my eyes wide with terror, and shrieked: “What do you mean?! We literally just left the prenatal clinic!” Liam frowned slightly, looking genuinely concerned. “Honey, we did go to the hospital today, but it wasn’t for a prenatal exam. You had a routine physical.” Those exact words again. My entire body began to shake. I stumbled out of my chair and lunged at the waitress who had given me the crackers, grabbing her arm. “Earlier! You said I was an expecting mother and gave me crackers so I wouldn’t go hungry! Do you remember?!” The waitress looked terrified. “Ma’am, what are you talking about? We don’t even serve crackers here.” I stood there, paralyzed. Then I frantically dug into my purse, pulled out my phone, and opened my photo gallery. The selfies with Dr. Evans and Nurse Rachel… they were all gone. Refusing to give up, I opened Facebook. Yesterday, after the maternity shoot, I had posted the behind-the-scenes videos. Dozens of friends and coworkers had liked and commented on it. But that post had vanished completely from my timeline. “Impossible…” My trembling fingers kept scrolling. Liam walked over and gently squeezed my shoulders. “Harper, you’ve been under so much stress trying to conceive. You’re having hallucinations.” I violently slapped his hands away and sprinted out of the diner. I had to go back to the hospital. I had to find that doctor, and that nurse. They had to remember me. When I burst through the clinic doors, Nurse Rachel was taking a pregnant woman’s blood pressure. I grabbed her arm. “Nurse Rachel! Do you remember me?!” Rachel jumped, looking at me in utter bewilderment. “Ma’am, do you have the wrong person?” “How could I have the wrong person?! You literally took photos with me this morning!” Rachel thought for a second, then shook her head, cutting me off. “I’ve been working the inpatient ward all morning. I wasn’t even in the outpatient clinic. Were you here for a prenatal exam?” I froze. “Then what about the female doctor who did my ultrasound?!” Rachel flipped through the clipboard on the desk. “All the attending ultrasound technicians on duty today are male. There are no female doctors on shift.” My brain exploded with a deafening ringing sound. A pregnant woman sitting nearby muttered to her husband, “Is she mentally ill?” “Probably drove herself crazy trying to get pregnant. My cousin did the same thing. Tried for three years, ended up having phantom pregnancies and hallucinating babies…” “Seriously, look at her stomach. It’s completely flat. Who is she trying to fool…” I ran into the hospital bathroom like a madwoman, lifted my shirt in front of the mirror, and stared at my stomach. Smooth. Flat. As if I had never been pregnant a day in my life. I slid down the wall of the bathroom stall, collapsing onto the tile floor. My mind was completely blank. No. This is wrong. I must have missed something. My phone rang. It was my mom. I scrambled to answer it. “Harper, did you get the lasagna I dropped off?” I opened my mouth, a desperate spark of hope igniting in my chest. “Mom… do you remember that I’m pregnant?” The line was silent for two seconds. Her voice came back laced with pure confusion. “Pregnant? Haven’t you and Liam been trying for over a year with no luck?” My hand gripping the phone began to shake violently. “Mom, I literally sent you my maternity photoshoot videos yesterday. Did you forget?!” My mom sounded even more confused. “No you didn’t, sweetie. You just called me saying you were craving lasagna. That’s all.” I opened my text messages. The videos in our chat history were gone. My mom’s voice filled with deep concern. “Harper, are you overworking yourself? Don’t put so much pressure on yourself, honey. A baby will come when the time is right…” Sitting on the cold bathroom floor, an icy chill seeped into my bones. Was I doomed to repeat this nightmare? Was I trapped in this impossible loop forever? No. I refuse to be a sitting duck! I splashed cold water on my face and marched out of the bathroom. I immediately heard a commotion down the hall. “That’s her. She’s the one harassing the staff…” “Call security. She’s clearly having a psychotic break…” I looked down the corridor. A crowd had formed outside the OB-GYN clinic. In the center, Liam was explaining something to a nurse. When he saw me, he rushed over. “Harper, where did you go? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” I stared at him. This man. We had been married for five years, and he had always been loving and perfect. Right now, his eyes were filled with nothing but profound worry and heartbreak. I stared dead into his pupils. “Liam, do you really not remember taking me for my prenatal checkup today?” Liam sighed heavily, reaching out to hold my hand. “Honey, let’s go home first. You need to rest, okay?” “Answer the question!” He paused, his eyes darting away for a fraction of a second. “Harper. You were never pregnant.” I closed my eyes. There it is. “Ma’am, please stop disrupting hospital operations.” Two security guards approached me. “We received a complaint that you are harassing medical staff. Please cooperate and leave the premises.” I took a step back. The hallway was full of people staring at me, whispering loudly. “What a shame. She’s so pretty, but completely out of her mind…” “I’ve seen cases like this. They all end up in a straightjacket…” “Her poor husband…” Liam stepped in front of me, speaking to the guards. “I am so sorry. My wife has been under extreme psychological stress lately. I’ll take her home right now.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the exit. I followed mechanically, my brain totally numb. But right at that moment, I caught a glimpse of the digital calendar hanging on the lobby wall. I stopped dead in my tracks, grabbed the arm of a passing nurse, and asked, my voice trembling violently: “Is… is the date on that clock correct?” The nurse was startled by my intensity but answered anyway. “Yeah, it’s correct. Why?” So that was it! I finally understood why my baby was gone, and why there was absolutely zero trace of my pregnancy!

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I found out Arthur Sterling was keeping another woman on the side. I was much calmer than I ever imagined I would be. After tracking down her address, I headed straight for her house, fully intending to lay all my cards on the table. But when I actually stood in her living room, I froze. “This condo cost $1.65 million. Arthur paid for it in full, in cash. The deed is in my name.” The woman’s expression was perfectly serene, as if she had been expecting me for a long time. She walked into her bedroom and brought out a marriage certificate, placing it right in front of me. “We got married last month.” “So,” the woman looked at me, her eyes brimming with sheer contempt, “legally speaking, you’re the dirty little mistress who can’t see the light of day.” The marriage certificate stung my eyes. It reminded me that Arthur and I had been together for fifteen years. Fifteen years. I never got a marriage certificate, but I did end up with a label: Mistress. … “Chloe Davis.” The woman tapped her manicured acrylic nail against the section of the certificate that bore Arthur’s name, her tone mocking. “You have no right to be here, and you certainly have no authority to strike a pose in front of me. Understood?” She held the marriage certificate like a hard-won trophy. She stood there, looking like a flawless, expensive porcelain doll. I recognized the diamond watch on her wrist. It was the exact one Arthur and I had won at a charity auction last month. It was the one Arthur had told me he was going to give to me as our fifteen-year anniversary gift. But the day before our anniversary… Arthur had come to me in a panic, telling me the watch had been stolen. His eyes were full of guilt—so much guilt that they were red-rimmed and teary as he spoke. “Honey, I promise I’ll give you something even better.” He gently rubbed the calluses on my palms, his tears falling out of sheer heartbreak. “I’ve made you suffer so much over the years building this life with me. Once the company’s IPO goes through, let’s get married, okay?” “Chloe,” Arthur had hugged me tightly. “I want to marry you. I want us to have a real family.” And I had actually believed him. I thought Arthur and I were finally reaching the finish line. I thought that after all the years of grinding from absolutely nothing to immense wealth, I had handed in a satisfactory answer sheet for my life, and we would just live peacefully from then on. But now. I stared at the crushed diamonds on her watch. They sparkled brilliantly, like tiny, invisible needles piercing straight into my heart. It hurt so much I could barely stand, yet I fought to maintain my dignity. “And so?” I snatched the marriage certificate from her hand. I looked at the bride’s name: Mia Harper. I met her perfectly flawless face and her visibly stunned expression, and I smiled. “Are you trying to tell me that after fifteen years with Arthur, it’s time for me to step down so you can enjoy the high life?” “Mia,” I rubbed my thumb over her photo on the document and smirked. “What makes you think I would just hand over the empire I bled to build?” I watched Mia panic. She lunged at me to snatch the certificate back, but I sidestepped her. Losing her balance, she crashed into a display cabinet and let out a sharp scream. “Chloe Davis!” “Are you insane?!” Mia finally ripped off her elegant mask and screamed at me. “Are you trying to ruin my relationship with Arthur?! Are you going to be a shameless homewrecker?!” “Chloe!” “Have you no shame?!” Before Mia could lunge at me for a physical fight… I calmly pulled out my phone, snapped a crystal-clear photo of the marriage certificate, and immediately texted it to Arthur. “Arthur.” “I heard you got married.” “Why wasn’t I invited to the reception?” “Chloe!” “Honey!” The call connected instantly. Arthur’s frantic voice echoed through the living room. “I can explain!” “It’s all a massive misunderstanding!” “Chloe!” I heard a commotion on Arthur’s end, followed by the sound of a car door slamming. “I’m coming over right now.” “Don’t do anything rash.” “Just wait until I get there, we’ll talk!” While Arthur was still rambling… Mia, consumed by rage, screamed into the phone like a lunatic. “Arthur Sterling! Whose husband are you?! Who the hell are you protecting?!” Mia’s hysterical screams bounced off the walls. I took another look around the condo. The decor was warm and luxurious—pale blue silk drapes, a cream-colored cloud sofa, an entire wall dedicated to designer blind-box figurines. There were even cute couple’s magnets on the smart fridge. The plush pink cartoon slippers by the shoe rack perfectly matched the blue ones on Mia’s feet. Even the pristine white walls were covered in framed photos of Mia, mixed with several shots of Arthur’s back. It was obvious. Whoever decorated this place poured their entire heart into it. A $1.65 million condo. Paid in cash. In Mia’s name. Mia’s watch. $3 million. That was supposed to be my anniversary gift. Plus the authentic silk pajama set she was wearing, the expensive custom manicure on her pristine hands, and the artisanal tea set resting on the coffee table, the premium tea leaves… not a single thing in this room was cheap. Every single item. Reeked of elite wealth. Every single item. I looked down at my own hands, staring at my palms, rough with calluses from years of hard labor. I looked at my outfit—my clothes and shoes combined cost less than a hundred dollars. Suddenly, I found it all incredibly hilarious. So hilarious that I actually laughed out loud. “Arthur.” I cut him off mid-sentence. “Since you’re already married,” I took one last glance at the certificate clutched in Mia’s hands: “Then we have absolutely nothing left to talk about.” I didn’t wait for Arthur. I didn’t need to hear his explanations. All I knew was that the fifteen years of blood, sweat, and tears I had given him were reduced to a monumental joke. And Arthur was the one who made me the biggest clown in it. I was sitting in my friend’s law firm, dropping the photo of the marriage certificate on his desk and relaying everything I had just witnessed. Then, I asked him one question. “In a situation like this.” “What are my odds?” My voice was terrifyingly calm, as if discussing the weather. “Arthur and I built the company from scratch. Our equity is split down the middle. All our assets are shared and transparent. But Mia is the wildcard.” I tapped my knuckles against the mahogany desk, thinking of the $3 million watch and the $1.65 million condo. “I refuse to let anyone off easy.” “Stepping on my flesh and blood to sit back and enjoy the spoils? There is no such thing as a free lunch in this world, and I refuse to accept that logic!” I looked my friend, Liam, dead in the eye. “I want them to pay.” “But,” Liam sighed, fighting his own anger to maintain his professional stance: “Your company is at a critical stage for the IPO. If a massive scandal breaks now—” “I don’t care.” “Then that’s all I need to hear!” Liam patted his chest confidently. “I will fight this for you until the bitter end.” Walking out of the bank, I sat in my car, staring at dozens of pages of bank statements. The amounts Arthur had transferred to Mia ranged from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands of dollars. Next to every single transaction was a memo: [Voluntary Gift]. It felt like my chest was caving in. A suffocating grip seized my throat, and my eyes burned with hot tears. I remembered a time when I had envied other women for dressing up. Wanting to feel like a normal girl, I had booked a salon appointment, gotten my hair done, and gone home, purposely strutting in front of Arthur, waiting for him to compliment my effort to look nice. Instead… Arthur had met my hopeful gaze with a chilling coldness. “Chloe.” “I know our lives are getting a little better now,” Arthur grabbed my hands, shaking his head in disapproval. “But the scariest thing a person can do is forget their roots.” “We can’t just start throwing money away just because we have a little extra, right?” “What if times get tough again? How will you cope?” “Honey,” Arthur had pulled me into his arms. “I prefer you when you’re simple and unadorned.” My heart full of hope shattered into bubbles. Arthur’s words were like a bucket of ice water over my head. I froze, forgetting to even react, as I watched him ruthlessly smash my only bottle of perfume against the floor. “Flashy, useless things. What’s the point?” Yeah. Flashy, useless things. What’s the point? Yet, Mia was draped in those flashy, useless things, dressed up like a perfect porcelain doll from an entirely different universe. The cruelest irony was that every single cent used to dress Mia up was paid for by the blood and sweat I had shed over the years. Why should she get it? The tears fell despite my best efforts. I wiped them away aggressively, staring at Arthur’s relentless incoming calls, and finally swiped to answer. “Chloe?!” “You finally picked up!” “Thank God!” Arthur’s frantic voice blasted through the speaker. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Where are you? Whatever it is, let’s talk face-to-face, okay?!” “Chloe, we’ve been together for fifteen years!” “Not fifteen days! You can’t just hide from me—” “Arthur.” I forced down the lump of acid in my throat, keeping my voice level. “Let’s meet.” I gave him the location. “At the old Northside apartment. We’ll meet there.” There was a clear pause on his end. Silence for a few seconds. “Okay.” “Honey, I’m heading there right now.” Arthur sounded relieved, almost thrilled. “I’ll stop by and grab those soup dumplings you love so much and bring them over!” Before I could decline. Arthur had hung up. I turned to meet Liam’s worried gaze. “I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “Don’t worry.” It had been almost five years since Arthur and I moved out of that old Northside apartment. Staring at the chipped, peeling paint on the front door, I remembered how we had poured our hearts into decorating this place after finally upgrading from a windowless basement. Arthur had said back then. “Honey, this is our very first real apartment. It means everything!” “When we get old, if you want, we can retire here!” “Let’s come back and stay here for a few days every year, okay?” Back then, my heart was so full of joy. I thought my life was perfectly complete. Now, only a few years later. Everything had changed. I pushed the door open. Arthur jumped up from the sofa. “Honey!” Looking like a child seeking praise, he held up the bag of hot soup dumplings and offered them to me. “They’re still warm.” In the past, I used to say how much I loved these dumplings, and how I loved that Arthur would wake up before dawn to wait in line for them. Later on, whenever I mentioned the dumplings… Arthur only had dismissive excuses. “Chloe.” “Time is money. Do you really think I have the luxury of standing in an hour-long line just to buy you breakfast?” Now, the dumplings were right in front of me again, but somehow, they completely lost their appeal. “Arthur.” I ignored his desperate fawning, walked past him, and sat on the old couch. The worn-out springs groaned under my weight—nothing compared to Mia’s cloud sofa. “Do you remember this couch?” I looked up at him. “You and I went to the flea market and hunted for two days to find it.” “Because we were too cheap to pay for delivery,” I recounted the memory like it was just a mundane Tuesday: “You borrowed a flatbed cart, and I held the armrest to keep it steady. In the middle of summer, in hundred-degree heat.” “We walked for two and a half hours to drag it home.” “Back then, you said even if we became billionaires, we would never replace this couch.” “Because it was the ultimate proof of our love.” Arthur’s eyes darted around, unable to meet my gaze. I casually picked up the TV remote from the coffee table. It was wrapped in a layer of duct tape. Arthur had drunkenly dropped it once and shattered the back; I couldn’t bear to spend money on a new one, so I taped it together. I rubbed my thumb over the duct tape. “But the truth is, people change, and everything fades, doesn’t it?” “No!” Arthur rushed forward, dropping to his knees. “That’s not how it is!” His eyes turned red. Just like always, whenever he was desperate, he would cry. “Mia was just an accident!” “I don’t love her!” “I swear to God!” Arthur knelt before me, reaching out to grab my hands, but I shifted sideways to dodge him. I watched the flash of hurt in his eyes as he continued. “There was a business dinner, I drank too much, and I have no idea how Mia ended up in my hotel room.” “When I woke up, I was terrified! I’m not lying to you!” Arthur’s tears spilled over. “I was so scared you’d find out, that you’d break up with me, that you’d hate me! I didn’t know how to face you!” “So I—” “How long?” “What?” “How long,” my voice remained chillingly flat, “have you been with Mia?” Arthur suddenly fell dead silent. He stared into my eyes for a long time before choking out the words. “Three and a half years.” I remembered Arthur promising we would come back and stay here for a few days every year. But as time went on, Arthur was always “too busy.” Turns out, he wasn’t too busy. He was just spending all his free time on someone else. A sharp, stabbing pain twisted in my chest. Then, Arthur offered his ultimate defense. “I wanted to break up with her! But she clung to me.” “She cried about how poor her family was, how her parents favored her sister… I just felt sorry for her…” Arthur’s voice trailed off. He lacked the courage to say the final sentence out loud. “And.” “She’s pregnant.” It felt like a bomb detonated right next to my ear. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. Even though I had already deduced the truth before I got here, hearing it from his mouth still sent ice-cold chills down my spine. While I was eagerly waiting for our wedding… Arthur had already given someone else his name, turning me into the outsider. And now, I had to listen to Arthur say: “I thought… since you’re getting older, IVF would take a toll on your body…” Getting older. Take a toll on my body. What an absolute joke. “So,” Arthur looked up at me, “I figured letting someone else have the baby was actually for your own good.” For my own good. My nails pierced my skin, but I couldn’t feel the pain. “As long as you forgive me! I’ll agree to anything you want!” “Really?” I forced down the volcanic rage boiling in my chest and locked eyes with him. “Really!” I suddenly smiled. I stood up from the creaky couch, walked over to the front door, and pulled it wide open. I stared at the person standing outside, my smile growing even wider. “So, did you catch all that?” “Who’s the mistress now?” I looked at Mia’s horrified face, then pulled out my phone, which was on an active video call with Liam. “Don’t bother editing this video. Send it directly to the media, word for word!” “I don’t care how much money you have to burn, I want this to be the biggest scandal of the year!” Before I could finish. Someone grabbed my wrist and yanked me backward. I met Arthur’s furious, panic-stricken eyes and laughed. “Arthur.” “You made your bed.” “Did you really think you could walk away clean?” “How do you like these consequences?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “399962”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Everyone assumed I secured my position as the wife of Manhattan’s most elusive tech billionaire purely through my face and a perfectly timed, “amnesia-inducing” car crash. Until one day, my genius ex-boyfriend showed up at a high-society gala with his newly invented time machine, publicly provoking my husband: “Mr. Pierce, wouldn’t you like to see what your pure, innocent, obedient little wife was actually like when she was eighteen?” A cold sweat broke out across my back. I was just about to laugh it off and change the subject. But my usually composed, aloof husband crushed his cigar in the ashtray, stared at my deathly pale face, and unprecedentedly nodded. “Sure. Let’s take a look.” The moment Declan agreed, a collective gasp echoed through the ballroom. My brain buzzed with pure panic. I forced a stiff smile. “This kind of experimental tech… it’s got to be dangerous, right? Why don’t we shelf this for a few years until the technology is more mature…” Before my words even hit the floor, the scientific prodigy coldly cut me off. “Mrs. Pierce, are you questioning my professional expertise?” Ethan Vance. MIT’s once-in-a-century scientific marvel. At a young age, he had won countless international awards and published in every top-tier journal. This time machine was his magnum opus, something he had nearly killed himself to build. It had already passed countless safety tests before he dared to reveal it to the public. I took a deep breath and maintained my plastic smile. “Of course not.” “I just think it’s unnecessary.” I turned to Declan, softening my voice to a sweet, pleading pitch: “Honey, you know my parents died when I was young. I barely survived those miserable days, and I finally have a good life. Who would want to go back and relive that trauma? Besides, you’ve already helped me make so many new memories to replace the ones I lost.” Declan was usually a very gentle, somewhat laid-back man. He was five years older than me and never interfered with my freedom. But today, he was acting completely out of character. Instead of indulging me, he stared deeply into my eyes, as if searching for something. “I’ve actually never seen what you looked like at eighteen.” My breath hitched. A chaotic mess of fragmented memories instantly flashed through my mind. The squeaking, rusty ceiling fans of a remedial classroom. The calculus problems I could never solve. The disgusting, leering jokes from the boys on the bleachers. The massive eye-rolls from my teachers, and the crushing betrayal of my cheating ex. But the most terrifying memory of all was my cousin, Serena Brooks, and her beautiful, venomous face. The person Declan wanted to see wasn’t me. It was the vibrant, radiant heiress he remembered as his childhood fiancée. The spoiled, delicate princess who sometimes played cruel pranks, but was always forgiven by the world the moment she batted her eyelashes. When I was ten, she cornered me in the bathroom and poured a freshly brewed, scalding cup of hot chocolate directly over my head. Not a single drop was spared. She smiled at me like an absolute angel: “Didn’t you go crying to my parents, saying you wanted to taste chocolate? This stuff is imported and expensive. You better lick it clean.” Her little minions held my head down against the cold tiles. That was the first time in my life I ever tasted chocolate. Scalding hot and sticky. It was so sweet it tasted bitter, clogging my throat until I couldn’t even scream. All I could do was let my tears fall, drop by drop, onto the floor. When I looked up, all I saw were the freezing porcelain tiles and her incredibly, brilliantly radiant smile. My eyes were practically identical to hers. Even the tiny teardrop mole under our right eyes looked like a copy-and-paste job. It was precisely because of this that I was later able to successfully steal her identity and live a life of absolute luxury. When we were intimate, Declan loved kissing the flushed skin around the corner of my eye. He would always whisper in my ear, telling me that even though I had forgotten everything about my past, my eyes were just as captivating as he remembered. For five entire years of marriage, I played the role of the sweet, fragile, amnesiac wife perfectly. I never let a single flaw slip. I swallowed the rising panic in my chest and let out a long breath. “What’s so special about being eighteen? We have old photo albums at home. I’ll dig them out and show you tonight.” “But I want to see it with my own eyes right now.” Declan stared at the sleek, compact device on the table, his brow twitching slightly, looking genuinely intrigued. “I’ve always heard you were a perfectly obedient, straight-A student. I think it would be fascinating to see.” Obedient. Perfect. Straight-A student. I kept the smile glued to my face. I waited until Declan’s flashy Rolls-Royce completely disappeared down the driveway before my expression instantly shattered. Did any of those words have a single thing to do with me? The second I turned around, I bumped right into the MIT prodigy. He was taller than before. His messy bangs fell just over his brow bone. That freezing, unapproachable aura that kept everyone thousands of miles away hadn’t changed one bit. This machine today was brought out specifically to target me. I followed him into a secluded corner of the venue. Without a word, the man’s towering frame pressed forward, trapping me aggressively against the wall. “What the hell do you want?” I pushed him desperately, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he grabbed my wrists and pinned them against the wall. Ethan’s gaze slowly swept over my features, a dark, incomprehensible current churning in his eyes. After holding his breath for a long moment, he coldly spat out two words: “Get back.” My brain short-circuited. I thought I had heard him wrong. He mercifully repeated himself, his voice completely devoid of warmth: “I mean, you divorce him, and we get back together.” “I don’t mind letting you return to my side.” I found it absolutely, hilariously absurd. “Ethan, did you forget to take your meds this morning?” “I am perfectly lucid,” he stared at me, his tone frighteningly flat. “Hazel, I am the only person in this world who knows your real past. As long as you leave him, I swear on my life, the time machine will never reveal a single syllable of your secret.” The corner was so quiet I could only hear our breathing. I violently surged forward, shoving him away with all my strength. “Ethan, what do you think I am? A stray dog you can whistle for and kick away whenever you feel like it?!” I glared at him, trembling with every breath, dragging up our ugly history word by word. “Weren’t you the one who coldly threw me away like garbage?” He pressed his lips tightly together, not making a sound. There wasn’t a single shred of guilt in those pitch-black eyes. That cold-blooded, heartless reaction. It was exactly the same as seven years ago. Back then, my cousin and I both competed in the State Debate Championship, and our scores tied. As the President of the Student Council and head of the scholarship committee, he waved his hand and awarded the massive $50,000 grant directly to my cousin. The reason he gave back then was incredibly noble: Serena had just become an orphan. Her family was broke. She desperately needed that money to pay for her Ivy League tuition. As for me? My grades were an absolute disaster. I was destined to end up at a community college, so I was completely unworthy of him. “Hazel, you need to face reality. Neither I nor anyone else has an obligation to pay for your hopeless, dead-end life.” “When the SAT scores come out, if you can’t get into my university, then we’re done for the rest of our lives.” Back then, I truly hated Ethan. I hated him so much that whenever I thought of him, I wanted to march up and scream in his face. If you were so desperate to date an academic equal, why the hell did you mess with a delinquent student like me in the first place?! Hearing me dig up these ancient grievances, the Ethan standing in front of me only blinked slightly. His voice was as steady as ever: “I simply chose the most logical solution at the time. Even if I had given that money to you, it would have only been a drop in the bucket for your mother’s endless medical bills. What difference would it have made?” He was still so rational. So rational it was terrifying. He delivered those devastating, cruel reasons with total self-righteousness, as if he had calculated that I would never hold it against him. “As long as you get back together with me, everything I own is yours. Hazel, I’ve figured it out. I have everything I could ever want now. I don’t need a partner to fight alongside me in the trenches anymore. I just want you by my side.” His eyes were burning and obsessive. Hearing this, I only found it hilarious. I laughed so hard that the old, agonizing heartache completely vanished. I violently ripped my hand out of his grasp, fighting back the tears in my eyes, and gritted my teeth. “Then you calculated wrong, Ethan.” “I have never forgotten about that scholarship. I will never swallow that insult for the rest of my life.” I shoved him aside and turned to leave. As I walked away, the man stared at my back and suddenly threw out a chilling sentence: “What if I have a way to return the justice you were denied back then, exactly as it should have been?” Human nature is a funny thing. People always think the path they didn’t choose was the best one. Ethan genuinely believed his decision back then was flawless. But since I was so hung up on it… He didn’t mind turning back time, replaying the entire event, and showing me what true, unbiased “fairness” actually looked like. When I got back to the massive estate, Maria, our housekeeper, had already drawn a hot bath for me. When Declan pushed the bathroom door open, I had submerged my entire head into the cooling water. The man’s large, distinct fingers clamped onto the back of my neck, lifting me out of the water like a soaking wet kitten. His narrow, sharp eyes danced with amusement. “What’s this? Tired of living and trying to drown yourself?” I didn’t say a word. He leaned in closer. “Still sulking about what happened today?” I uncomfortably turned my face away. “I don’t have the time for that.” “Then why were you so resistant? Honestly, aren’t you curious to know what kind of temper you had before you lost your memory?” Seeing me act like a sealed vault, refusing to speak, he good-naturedly ruffled my soaking wet hair. His voice carried a lazy drawl. “To tell you the truth, when I first met you at nineteen, you were exactly like this. Constantly sulking, a temper the size of Texas. You screamed and cried, demanding I honor the trust fund marriage our grandfathers arranged, insisting on following me abroad to study. If it weren’t for what happened later…” He suddenly stopped talking. If it weren’t for the fact that my cousin accidentally fell into the ocean on the day of their engagement party, missing and presumed dead for three whole years… The two of them probably would have been married by now. Until a few years later, when he was vacationing on a remote island and accidentally stumbled upon me—a girl pretending to be his amnesiac fiancée. Steam swirled in the bathroom. The man’s warm palm gently cradled the back of my head, abruptly closing the distance between us. He lowered his voice. “Do you know, Serena? Sometimes I find it incredibly hard to reconcile the person you are now with the person you used to be.” “I constantly wonder… just how much suffering did you endure to turn into this timid, cautious version of yourself? You never cry out loud, you never laugh without restraint, you don’t even throw tantrums at me anymore.” He gently nuzzled his nose against my forehead, speaking as if murmuring to himself: “Do I need to dig up your entire past to figure out which one is the real you? The feral, defensive girl from before, or the sweet, understanding girl standing in front of me now? Which one actually cares about me more?” In the palm of his hand, the micro time machine was blinking with a rhythmic red light. My pupils violently shrank. I didn’t even have time to reach for it. “Keep your heart in your chest. No one will see. This trip through time is just for the two of us.” As soon as the words left his mouth, his long finger pressed down. Click. We were both instantly sucked into a temporal vortex, hurtling ten years into the past. To this day, I still haven’t figured out what wire crossed in Ethan’s brain to make him hand his time machine over to Declan. I stared blankly at my youthful, edgy reflection in the high school bathroom mirror, closing my eyes in utter despair. When I walked out, I saw a group of boys and girls in their blue-and-white uniforms laughing and shoving each other in the hallway. I bit my lip hard, keeping my head down as I pushed through them, predictably drawing a chorus of sleazy catcalls. “Hazel! The bell already rang! Why are you dawdling?!” The class president was screaming at me from the door of the remedial classroom. — Hazel. My brain short-circuited for a second. When my mom had me, it was a season of heavy nostalgia for her. She gave me the name Hazel because she wanted me to grow up strong and resilient like a hazel tree, deeply rooted in reality. If I really calculated it, how long had it been since someone called me that? Probably since the day I made the decision to steal Serena’s identity and marry into the Pierce family. Honestly, living with Declan these past few years hadn’t been that suffocating. At his corporation, he was known as the absolute Grim Reaper—ruthless and dictatorial. But at home, he was completely declawed, like a lazy Persian cat. On lazy Sunday afternoons, his favorite thing to do was squeeze onto the sofa with me to watch old movies, mess with the plants on the balcony, or just use my lap as a pillow and sleep for hours. Sometimes, if I casually mentioned a dish I was craving, he’d patiently pull up a YouTube tutorial and learn to cook it step-by-step. If I really had to pick out his flaws, I couldn’t find any major ones. The only fatal flaw was that the woman he held in his heart… wasn’t me. The sun outside was blindingly bright. I squinted and stepped into the classroom. This rundown, cramped room smelled of teenage sweat from the boys who just finished playing basketball. Even the endless buzzing of the cicadas outside the window felt maddening. This was the absolute last era of my life I ever wanted to revisit. It was an English class. I had zero interest in paying attention. I propped my cheek on my hand, my brain turning to mush, trying to figure out how to avoid bumping into Declan in this timeline. A group of girls in the back row were huddled together, whispering excitedly. They were gossiping about the billionaire sponsor of the upcoming State Debate Championship—a young, incredibly wealthy tycoon who had just returned from studying abroad. Apparently, he had specifically come to our school this morning for an inspection. “I sneaked a peek when I walked past the bathroom earlier. He definitely looks like old money. That face, those long legs… absolutely unreal. The principal wanted to assign him a student guide for the campus history museum. The guy just glanced at the roster and specifically asked for Serena.” “Why didn’t he ask for Hazel? Didn’t she tie for first place with Serena in the regionals?” Someone nearby scoffed coldly, full of disdain. “Serena isn’t just beautiful, she’s the valedictorian. The billionaire picking her just proves he has good taste. Now look at the girl in our class. All she does is dress like a punk and flirt with boys. She has zero actual brains and acts so arrogant. Just because a blind squirrel found a dead mouse and she lucked into a high score, she actually thinks she’s on the same level as the valedictorian?” I slowly blinked twice, finally realizing exactly what year, month, and day it was. This was the critical juncture where Serena and I had tied for first place in the State Championship, and the school administration was holding a meeting to decide who would get the massive scholarship grant. But in my original timeline… There was absolutely no billionaire sponsor who had studied abroad. In the school’s VIP reception room. The principal was bowing and scraping, pouring tea for the aristocratic billionaire sitting across from him, apologizing profusely with a sycophantic smile: “Mr. Pierce, if you had only told us you were gracing us with your presence, we would have prepared a proper welcome! Look at this place, we have nothing ready. We’ve truly slighted you.” The man’s long fingers casually spun a delicate porcelain teacup. He replied lazily, “It’s fine. I was just passing through today. I wanted to see a familiar face.” A few moments later, the class president sprinted back in to report that Serena Brooks was having terrible period cramps. She was lying in bed in her dorm room in agonizing pain, and she probably wouldn’t be able to give the museum tour today. The principal looked incredibly awkward, asking if he should quickly find a sharper student to take her place. Declan stared at the two identical perfect-score exam papers laid out on the desk. He flipped to the one underneath, saw the aggressively messy signature at the top, raised an eyebrow, and asked, “Hazel?” “Yes, yes, Hazel,” the principal quickly supplied, plastering on a fake smile. “Even though the girl is in the remedial class, her English scores are genuinely top-tier. She actually tied for first place with Serena in the state competition.” “And according to the other students, this girl has been working like a maniac these past few months. She’s up at 5:30 AM every day pacing the hallways memorizing vocabulary! She’s a hardworking kid. Having her give you the tour won’t be a mistake.” The man fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment. “If they tied for first place, why is there only one name—Serena’s—on the scholarship recommendation list?” “Well… about that… to tell you the truth, the school administration is actually about to hold a meeting to discuss that very issue.” Seeing the principal stammering, unable to squeeze out a coherent excuse, Declan couldn’t be bothered to interrogate him further. He was never the type to meddle in other people’s business anyway. Besides, his time in this era was limited. He had a maximum of three days. Declan glanced at his luxury watch and suddenly turned his head to ask his assistant, “What’s the date today?” “August 1st, Mr. Pierce. Do you need something?” Early August. That date didn’t align with his wife’s menstrual cycle. But then he thought about it—she had fallen into the ocean, suffered massive trauma, and lost her memory. It was completely normal for her cycle to be thrown off. Declan dismissed the tiny inconsistency from his mind. The man pondered for a moment before instructing his assistant, “Go to the pharmacy nearby. Buy some brown sugar ginger tea and some heating pads.” “Mr. Pierce, are you intending to…?” the principal asked cautiously, thoroughly confused. The man stood up, smoothed out his immaculate suit, and gave the principal a polite nod. “I’ll skip the history museum. You don’t need to waste your time entertaining me here.” “Since you have a meeting to attend to, I’ll go see Serena Brooks myself. Once I see her, I’ll leave.” When the bell rang, I was staring blankly at my desk. The class president suddenly tapped my shoulder, telling me to get to the faculty office immediately. The moment I pushed the door open, oh boy. It was packed to the brim. The principal, my homeroom teacher, the proctor from the competition, the dean of students, and the kids who sat around me during the exam—they were all standing there. The only person missing was Serena. Ethan was wearing his crisp, tailored Student Council uniform. He still had that arrogant, aloof demeanor, acting like he was above the mortal realm and everyone else was beneath his notice. He shot me a sidelong glance, then pulled up the security footage from the day of the exam on his laptop. He turned the screen so everyone in the room could see it clearly. “Since Serena and Hazel scored the exact same points in the competition, I believe that if we don’t provide irrefutable evidence to settle this, rumors will spread that our school is unjust.” As Ethan spoke, he lifted his eyelids. His gaze hit my face like a blazing spotlight. In my original timeline, ten years ago, I never experienced this kind of brutal, public interrogation. Because by the time I found out the results, the scholarship money had already been wired into Serena’s bank account. I had lost my mind with anger. I ran through a torrential downpour to find Ethan, screaming myself hoarse, demanding to know why he did it. Why did he treat me like that? Was it because we were dating, and he wanted to “avoid a conflict of interest” by sacrificing me? Or was it because my handwriting wasn’t as neat as Serena’s? Or was it because he despised my reputation as a remedial student and was afraid giving me the spot would embarrass the school? Back then, the arrogant, untouchable boy just listened to my hysterical screaming and frowned in annoyance. “Regardless of everything else, she is your cousin. Your aunt and uncle raised you and your mom for years. Now her parents are dead. Can’t you be the bigger person and think about her for once?” “But that’s completely unfair!” That was the first time he ever looked at me with pure, unadulterated disgust. “Then teach me what fairness is! Does the earth revolve around you? Do people have to step aside for you just because you grew up poor?” The justice I had screamed my lungs out for and never received back then… today, he had used a time machine to travel back and graciously bestow it upon me. In the office, the boy’s voice wasn’t loud, but it cut like an ice pick. He stared me down, articulating every word with lethal precision: “The moment the audio portion of the exam ended, the proctor announced that all pencils must be put down. Hazel, why were you still holding your pencil?” My breath hitched. My entire body stiffened as if I had been paralyzed. Under the suffocating stares of a dozen pairs of eyes, my fingers slowly curled inward, my nails digging painfully into my palms. I forced out a dry, cracked sentence: “I was just checking to make sure I didn’t bubble the wrong row on the scantron.” “Even if you realized you bubbled it wrong, what were you planning to do?” Ethan’s tone was flat, but his words were a brutal interrogation. “Were you planning to defy the rules and secretly change your answers?” “I wasn’t,” I said, grinding my teeth. The moment those words left my mouth, Ethan slammed my scantron down onto the desk with a sharp smack. His finger tapped heavily on a poorly erased pencil mark, his tone aggressive and unyielding: “On the final, hardest question of the audio section, you clearly bubbled ‘A’. But in the final few seconds before the proctor collected the tests, you suspiciously glanced to your front-left, and guiltily changed your answer to ‘B’—the exact same answer as Serena.” “Hazel, do you admit to this, or not?” The dark, desperate little thoughts I had harbored in the shadows were suddenly ripped out and exposed to the blinding sunlight. I stood there like a mute, refusing to say a word. Ethan delivered his final ultimatum, his eyes looking like they wanted to carve me open. “Is it true, or is it not?” In this spacious office, so quiet you could hear a pin drop, my eyes were glued to the floorboards. My throat was impossibly dry. It took an eternity to force out one word: “No.” In the face of ironclad evidence like security footage, all my denials felt pathetic and weak. But I remained incredibly stubborn, squeezing the words through my teeth: “I absolutely did not look at Serena’s test.” “I was just looking at the clock on the wall, trying to see if I had enough time to correct my answer.” “Looking at the clock? Hazel, do you honestly think any of the teachers or administrators here believe a ridiculous lie like that?” Ethan pressed his attack, looking as though he wouldn’t rest until the label of ‘cheater’ was permanently branded onto my forehead. I suddenly felt like the man standing in front of me was a complete stranger. “Didn’t you tell me this yourself? Ethan.” “The broken clock on our school wall is exactly thirty seconds faster than standard time.” My eyes turned red. My palms were slick with cold sweat. I stared him down, demanding an answer from his own mouth. —This was exactly what Ethan had told me after a monthly exam, pointing at his expensive mechanical watch. He had even joked that one day, he could use that thirty-second discrepancy to blindly guess one more multiple-choice question. A deathly silence spread across the office. The arrogant boy’s breathing suddenly hitched. Slowly, he pressed his lips into a tight, thin line. This time, for the first time ever, he didn’t instantly jump to contradict me. Just as the suffocating stalemate reached its breaking point. A student suddenly burst through the door from outside, completely out of breath. “Principal! The billionaire sponsor, Mr. Pierce, just came back from Serena’s dorm room! He says he wants to see you one more time before he leaves!”

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I’ve been at this company for three years, and I’ve never worked a single minute of overtime. The first time I stayed late, old man Miller in the cubicle next to me died of a massive heart attack. The second time I worked overtime, Sarah, the senior associate who trained me, “accidentally” fell down the emergency stairwell. The third time, Maria, our sweet cleaning lady, was electrocuted in the breakroom. After that, the whole office knew the unwritten rule: whenever I worked overtime, someone died. No one dared to work on my floor. Management moved my desk into a private, isolated glass office. During a company-wide meeting, the higher-ups explicitly announced: “Under no circumstances is anyone to disturb Chloe during her working hours. When she leaves at 5 PM, she leaves.” And just like that, I coasted through three years of stress-free employment, collecting my paycheck while doing the bare minimum. Until the new corporate VP was parachuted in. “Chloe Vance!” When he barked my name, the entire conference room went dead silent. “Stand up!” I stood up. He picked up the top sheet of paper from his folder and snapped it loudly. “Employed for three years. Overtime hours logged: Zero.” He waved the paper for everyone to see. “Three years. Over a thousand working days! Zero overtime! Can anyone in this room tell me why?!” No one breathed. He stepped down from the podium, marched over to me, and stared me down. “Why is it that out of over a hundred employees in this branch, you are the only one who doesn’t have to put in extra hours? Do you have an extra pair of hands? Or are you just doing half the work of everyone else?” “Mr. Sterling,” I said calmly. “It’s company policy. I am exempt from overtime.” “Policy?” He let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Let me make something crystal clear. As of right now, there is only one policy in this branch: What I say, goes.” He raised his hand, pointing a finger an inch from my nose. “You are working overtime tonight. If you don’t, don’t bother coming in tomorrow.” “Mr. Sterling,” I replied softly. “If I work overtime, someone is going to die.” The conference room froze for a full second. Then, he burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he actually bent over. When he finally straightened up, he pointed at me, looking at the rest of the staff. “Did you all hear that? She says someone is going to die! Chloe, who hasn’t worked late in three years, claims that if she stays past 5 PM, the Grim Reaper shows up.” He turned back to me, leaning in close. “Chloe, let me tell you something. I’ve been climbing the corporate ladder for twenty years. I’ve seen every scam, every lazy excuse, and every ghost story employees invent to get out of doing their jobs. You can preach doom and gloom until your face turns blue, but you are working overtime tonight!” He took a step back and raised his voice. “And you’re not doing it alone!” He pointed to the Head of Security, who was shrinking into a corner. “You. You’re staying with her tonight. If anything happens, it’s on your head!” The Security Chief’s face instantly drained of all color. “Mr. Sterling,” I said. “Don’t make him stay. I don’t want to be responsible for getting him hurt.” He paused for a second, then his laughter grew even louder and crueler. “Hurt? Chloe, who the hell do you think you are? The Angel of Death?” He grabbed the Security Chief by the arm and dragged him forward. “You two, tonight. Together. I want to see just how cursed you really are. If someone actually drops dead, I’ll take full responsibility.” The conference room was as silent as a tomb. He clapped his hands sharply. “Meeting adjourned. Tonight, 7:00 PM. Chloe, Security Chief. Be at your desks. Anyone who doesn’t show, you’re fired.” He was absolutely certain I wouldn’t quit. He knew I needed this job to survive. As the crowd filed out, Linda from Accounting brushed past me and discreetly grabbed my hand. Her fingers were freezing. “Chloe, please be careful.” I gave her a small nod. At 6:50 PM, I swiped my badge at the front desk. The Security Chief, Dave, was already sitting there. He was in his late forties, huddled in his chair. When he saw me walk in, he practically jumped out of his skin. “C-Chloe…” his voice trembled. “Um… is something really going to happen tonight?” “It’s fine,” I said. “Just stay in your seat. No matter what you see or hear, do not move.” At 7:00 PM on the dot, the elevator pinged. Tristan Sterling stepped out. When he saw me, a smug smile spread across his face. “Well, well. You actually showed up. I figured you’d call in sick with some mysterious illness.” I didn’t respond. He walked up to me, looking me up and down. “I looked into your file, Chloe. Three years ago, right after you were hired, someone died on your floor. Since then, there have been two more ‘accidents.’ And every single time, you were the only one working late.” He took a sip from his iced coffee. “Do you honestly expect me to buy that? That because you stay late, someone else magically drops dead? You Gen-Z kids trying to ‘disrupt workplace culture’ with ghost stories are pathetic.” “Mr. Sterling,” I said evenly. “Whether you believe it or not doesn’t matter.” “Oh? Then what does matter?” “What matters,” I said, locking eyes with him, “is that you are also here tonight.” He froze for a second, then scoffed. “Fine. I’ll be right here watching. Let’s see what kind of cheap parlor tricks you try to pull.” He turned and walked toward the executive offices, but paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Chloe, you sit at your desk and revise that Q3 marketing proposal. I’m leaving my office door open. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” I sat down and logged into my computer. Dave, the Security Chief, remained glued to his chair at the reception desk, stiff as a board. The minutes ticked by. At 7:30 PM, the overhead lights flickered. Dave looked up at the ceiling, swallowing hard. At 8:00 PM, the entire floor went pitch black. In the darkness, I heard Tristan curse loudly from his office. Five seconds later, the emergency backup lights kicked on. Tristan was standing in his doorway, looking irritated. “Faulty wiring,” he announced to the empty floor. “Building maintenance says they’re looking into it.” I didn’t say a word. At 8:30 PM, the elevator chimed. The doors slid open. It was completely empty. Tristan marched over, stuck his head inside, and then walked back. “Someone probably pressed the wrong button,” he muttered, but his voice lacked its previous arrogant edge. At 10:00 PM, I finished the proposal. I packed up my bag, ready to leave. Just as I reached the main glass doors of our suite, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the office. It came from Tristan’s office. I sprinted back. Tristan was slumped in his executive chair, his face as white as a sheet. His eyes were bulging in terror, and his shaking finger was pointing at the floor-to-ceiling window behind his desk. “The window… outside the window…” Dave was standing in the doorway, his knees visibly shaking. I walked over and looked at the window. It was the 12th floor. There was absolutely nothing outside but the dark city skyline. I turned to look at him. He was convulsing, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, unable to form a single word. “Mr. Sterling, what did you see?” I asked. He stared at me, his eyes widening further in sheer horror. “Someone…” his voice sounded like it was being choked out of his throat. “Someone was looking at me…” “Who?” Tristan didn’t answer. Even as the paramedics loaded him onto the stretcher, he was still blindly repeating: “The window… someone was outside the window…” Dave stood nearby, his legs trembling so violently he had to lean against the wall to keep from collapsing. I stood by the office entrance, watching the ambulance speed away into the night. As I turned to leave, I cast one final glance at Tristan’s window. Pressed against the glass, faintly illuminated by the city lights, were three distinct, foggy handprints. I stared at them for three seconds. Then, I turned and walked away. The next morning, the moment I walked into the office breakroom, it was absolute chaos. Linda from Accounting rushed over, grabbing my hand. Her palms were slick with sweat. “Chloe! I heard something happened last night! Mr. Sterling was taken away in an ambulance?!” “Yeah.” “Did… did someone die again?” “No one died. He was just taken to the ER.” She let out a massive sigh of relief, but immediately dropped her voice to a frantic whisper. “I knew it! I told everyone, whenever you work overtime, the Reaper comes knocking! It’s been exactly the same since three years ago!” Mary, our HR manager, leaned in, her eyes wide. “Do you guys think… do you think they came back?” The breakroom instantly fell dead silent. Every single pair of eyes locked onto me. I didn’t say a word. I just took a slow sip of my coffee. Jake, a developer from IT, pushed his way into the circle. “I don’t think it’s anything supernatural. There has to be a logical pattern. Like… maybe Chloe has some weird electromagnetic field around her? Like she attracts bad energy when she’s stressed from overtime?” Linda’s eyes lit up. “Yes! My grandmother used to say some people have ‘heavy souls’—they clash with the spirits around them and cause…” “No,” Mary shook her head. “I was working late the night old man Miller died. Why didn’t anything happen to me?” Jake chimed in again. “Maybe it’s the floor? The 12th floor has always felt off.” “Sarah fell down the stairs from the 13th floor,” someone else pointed out. The breakroom devolved into a frenzy of overlapping voices and wild theories. Some said I had a dark aura that attracted malicious entities. Others claimed my desk was situated on some cursed architectural lay line. One guy suggested the building was constructed over a mob graveyard. Someone even pulled me aside and whispered, “Chloe… can you… see dead people?” I looked at him and said nothing. The theories were getting increasingly ridiculous, but none of them could explain why the victims were always different people, dying at different times, in different places. Except for the one unifying factor. Every time I worked overtime, someone died. They debated it all morning, coming to zero conclusions. The next day, Tristan was discharged from the hospital. The very first thing he did upon entering the office was storm into the security control room. “Pull up the surveillance footage from that night! All of it!” Dave, still looking pale, sat with him as they reviewed the footage, frame by frame. The elevator doors opening. Empty. Me sitting at my desk, drinking coffee, typing on my keyboard. Nothing out of the ordinary. Tristan rewatched that specific timeframe dozens of times. “Is this it?” he demanded. “That’s everything,” Dave confirmed. Tristan sat in silence for a long time. Then he stood up and marched out of the security room. From my desk, I watched him approach. “Chloe. My office. Now.” I stood up and followed him in. He slammed the door shut and locked it. Then he spun around, glaring at me with predatory intensity. “Who the hell are you really?” I met his gaze calmly. “I’m just Chloe, Mr. Sterling.” “Bullshit!” He took a step toward me. “You know something. That night… I know what I saw that night!” “And what did you see?” He opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat. I let out a small, quiet laugh. “What did you see, Mr. Sterling?” He still couldn’t say it. I smiled, turned around, and walked toward the door. “Chloe, stop right there!” his voice barked behind me. I didn’t stop. Immediately after, he called an impromptu all-hands meeting. He stood at the front of the room. “Listen up. I know there are some ridiculous rumors circulating the office these past few days,” he said, scanning the crowd. “Regarding my brief hospital visit, it was a simple medical anomaly. I was overworked, severely dehydrated, and experienced a minor panic attack resulting in hallucinations. I psyched myself out.” A few people muttered skeptically, but he pretended not to hear. “The office is returning to normal operations. Mandatory overtime is reinstated for all active projects.” He locked eyes with me. “Chloe, you’re working overtime again tonight.” I stood up. “Mr. Sterling, I refuse.” The conference room went dead silent. He smirked. “Refuse? What gives you the right to refuse a direct managerial order?” “Mr. Sterling,” I said, enunciating every syllable. “I do not want anyone else to get hurt. Or die.” “Hurt?” He laughed loudly. “Did anyone die during our last overtime session? I had a mild panic attack, nothing more. Your little ‘overtime curse’ myth is officially busted.” I stared at him, saying nothing. Whispers broke out across the room. “He’s right, nobody actually died this time…” “Mr. Sterling is fine, Dave is fine…” “Maybe the curse really is just a coincidence?” Right at that moment, a blood-curdling shriek pierced the air. It was Mary from HR. She was standing near the back of the room, her face drained of all blood, pointing a shaking finger toward the dark, cluttered corner near the breakroom entrance. “T-There…” Every head in the room whipped around to follow her trembling finger. The corner was stacked with old cardboard boxes and a broken water cooler. Poking out from behind the bottom box was a hand. A pale, lifeless, grayish-blue hand. The conference room erupted into sheer chaos. People were screaming, scrambling toward the exit, tripping over chairs. A few people’s legs completely gave out, leaving them sobbing on the carpet. Tristan’s face turned the color of ash, but he forced himself to take a step forward. “Don’t panic! Nobody panic! Call 911! Get the police here!” The police arrived within minutes. The area was cordoned off with yellow tape, and the entire floor was evacuated to the lobby downstairs. I stood in the crowd, watching the red and blue police lights flash against the glass facade of the building. Two hours later, the news broke. The victim was a senior developer from the IT department. His last name was Wang. He was a quiet, unassuming guy who mostly kept to himself. The medical examiner’s preliminary ruling was sudden cardiac arrest, pending a full autopsy. But the time of death had already been established. It was the exact night of my overtime shift. The lobby exploded with terrified murmurs. “He died yesterday?! But… that was the night Chloe stayed late!” “Oh my god, he was still in the building that night!” “That corner is a blind spot, no one ever goes back there…” I stood perfectly still in the center of the chaotic lobby. The crowd instinctively backed away from me, leaving me standing alone in an empty circle. I heard someone whisper, “Chloe’s overtime… it really is a death sentence…” “And this time, it was someone from her own department…” I lifted my head and looked for Tristan. He was standing near the revolving doors. I walked straight through the parted crowd until I stood directly in front of him. Everyone was watching me. I stopped, looking dead into his eyes. “Mr. Sterling.” He instinctively took a step backward. “Do you still want me to work overtime?” He didn’t say a single word. I looked at him, waited for three agonizingly long seconds. Then I turned and walked out the door. A suffocating silence trailed behind me. But I knew this wasn’t over. Sure enough, three days later, Tristan called another meeting. He stood at the podium, his face looking haggard and gray. “Everyone,” he began, his voice gravelly. “I am aware of the rumors surrounding the recent tragedy. I have personally reviewed the police reports.” He paused, swallowing hard. “It was a tragic medical anomaly. An accident.” The conference room was silent. No one believed him, but no one had the courage to say it. He looked directly at me. “Chloe. You are working overtime again tonight.” I stood up slowly. “Mr. Sterling, did you completely ignore what I said last time?” He offered a tight, forced smile. It looked more like a grimace. “I heard you. But the company has urgent deadlines, and we need you to deliver.” Hearing that, I couldn’t help but laugh. “The company needs me to die? Or do you just need more collateral damage?” Several people in the room audibly gasped. He took a step toward me, his voice hardening. “Chloe, you haven’t worked a single hour of overtime in three years, yet you’ve collected your full salary every month. This company has accommodated you long enough. Now, when we need you to put in some extra hours, you drag your feet and hide behind ghost stories. Do you really think this ‘curse’ is real?” “Mr. Sterling,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous calm. “My overtime kills people. Did you already forget about Wang?” A muscle in his jaw twitched violently. “That was a medical tragedy. The coroner confirmed it was a fatal heart defect. It had absolutely nothing to do with you. Stop inflating your own ego.” “Is that so?” I stared at him. He stared back. “Tonight. 8:00 PM,” he ordered. “You are working overtime. I will be the only other person on the floor. If anything happens, it’s on me.” “You’ll take responsibility?” “I’ll take full responsibility.” I smiled. “Fine.”

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The night before my wedding, I was scrolling through a local Reddit forum and stumbled upon a trending post. [Tomorrow is my wedding day. I secretly swapped my fiancé’s daily vitamins with heavy sleeping pills so my adopted brother can take his place at the altar. How do I stop feeling guilty?] The comments section was an absolute bloodbath of people cursing out the original poster (OP), but she remained arrogantly unapologetic. [I’ve always loved my adopted brother anyway. If it wasn’t for the fact that my fiancé is the true heir, and marrying him is the only way I can secure the corporate funding I need, who would actually want to marry that naive idiot?] [He loves me to death anyway. Once the deed is done and the marriage is consummated, I’ll just sweet-talk him a little, and he’ll gladly hand over his entire family fortune to me.] Someone in the comments asked what she would do if her fiancé refused to let it go. The OP replied casually: [Then I’ll just let Liam suffer a little bit and take the idiot into my home as a second husband. Once I rebuild my empire, I’ll orchestrate a trap to bankrupt his family, then throw the idiot onto the streets to beg for scraps as an apology to Liam.] The internet was outraged, furiously condemning the OP for being a treacherous, ungrateful snake. Suddenly, I noticed a very familiar profile picture “like” the OP’s comment. [He stole everything that rightfully belonged to me anyway. Once I successfully take his place at the wedding, not only will his bride be mine, but his billion-dollar dowry will be mine too!] His profile picture was a matching set with the OP’s. It was a photo of the custom plush dolls sitting on the nightstand of the “fake heir” who lived in my house. I picked up the bottle of vitamins on my nightstand and swallowed a pill without a second of hesitation. What they didn’t know was… their grand master plan was celebrating a little too early. The next day, I slept until the sun was high in the sky before finally rubbing my temples and walking out of my bedroom. I ran right into my mother in the hallway. Tears were still glistening in the corners of her eyes. When she saw me, she froze for two full seconds before gasping aloud, “Arthur?! What are you doing here?!” My dad heard the commotion and hurried over. He looked at me, then looked out the window at the wedding motorcade that was already driving away in the distance. He looked thoroughly confused. “If you’re here, then who just got into the Sterling family’s wedding car?” I put on a flawless mask of utter confusion. “What do you mean? What happened?” “Yesterday, my brother gave me a new bottle of vitamins. After I took them, I felt incredibly dizzy and just slept until now.” Instantly, the festive, joyous atmosphere in the mansion evaporated. The servants and family members exchanged bewildered glances. My mom was the first to react. Her face turned to pure ice. She reached out and violently grabbed the arm of Maria, our head housekeeper, who was discreetly trying to back away. “I was wondering why a mere housekeeper was crying harder than the groom’s actual mother when the wedding car left! It turns out the person you just sent off to get married was your own fake son!” Maria instinctively recoiled, her eyes darting nervously around the room as she stammered. “M-Madam, whatever do you mean?” “The Young Master overslept on his own! How can you blame that on me?” My dad stood to the side, barking a furious order to the security detail. “What are you standing around for?! Go catch that ungrateful bastard Liam and drag him back here right now!” Just as the words left his mouth, our estate manager came rushing up the stairs, panting heavily. “S-Sir… The Sterling family… the wedding ceremony has already concluded.” My mom let out a cold, furious scoff. “So what if the ceremony is over?! Do you think a sparrow can magically turn into a phoenix just because it wears a suit?! A fake is a fake!” With that, she ordered the security team to follow her and marched straight toward the Sterling family’s wedding venue. I lowered my eyes and obediently followed behind my parents. But in my heart, I was laughing coldly. I knew it wasn’t just a simple matter of the ceremony being over. When our two families were planning the wedding, Victoria Sterling had fiercely insisted on a highly traditional, old-fashioned ceremony. She claimed that the Sterlings were a family with centuries of history, and it was a strict ancestral rule. Looking back on it now, she had premeditated this entire thing. In those traditional ceremonies, the groom’s face is heavily veiled throughout the procession, making it incredibly easy for Liam to pull a bait-and-switch. Calculating the time, by now, the deed was definitely done, and the marriage had been consummated. Standing nearby, Maria could barely suppress the triumphant, victorious smirk playing on her lips. Seeing that, I was absolutely certain. The trap had been sprung. When I was just a baby in the hospital nursery, Maria had intentionally swapped me with her own son, Liam. It wasn’t until we were ten years old that Liam suffered a severe fall. A routine blood test at the hospital revealed the horrifying truth: he was a fake. My parents spent an astronomical amount of money and resources to finally track me down and bring me home. But because they had raised Liam for a decade, my parents were kind-hearted. They allowed the fake son and his biological mother to remain living on the estate. They never imagined they were harboring a viper in their own home. Liam had always believed that because of me, he lost his title and glory as the eldest son of a billionaire dynasty. That twisted resentment was what drove him to concoct this disgusting, underhanded scheme. Even if I caught them in the act, my family was one of the most powerful, elite dynasties in Manhattan. They calculated that to protect my family’s reputation and avoid a massive public scandal, I would be forced to swallow this humiliating insult and stay quiet. While I was lost in thought, our group arrived at the doors of the lavish bridal suite that Victoria had supposedly prepared exclusively for me. The wedding guests, sensing the drama, had followed us upstairs and were crowding around the hallway to watch the show. The heavy oak doors were violently kicked open. Inside the room, a disheveled Victoria panicked, frantically grabbing a discarded tuxedo jacket to cover the naked man beneath her. Her face turned as black as storm clouds as she screamed at us, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Invading our privacy on our wedding night?! Have you lost your minds?!” My mom let out a sharp sneer. She took quick, purposeful strides forward and violently ripped away the tuxedo jacket that was covering half of Liam’s face. “Your wedding night? Open your damn eyes and look closely! Who exactly is the groom?!” My mom pointed a trembling finger at me, putting on an Oscar-worthy performance of absolute shock. “Liam?! Why are you in that bed?!” The moment the crowd saw Liam’s face, the hallway erupted into utter chaos. “Wait, isn’t the guy in the bed the fake son who got exposed years ago? Why is he in the Sterling heiress’s bed?!” My dad let out a cold, booming laugh. “I apologize for making you all witness this circus. The man in that bed is the son of our housekeeper. We raised him out of the goodness of our hearts for over two decades. And now, blinded by vanity and greed, he stole his brother’s wedding and is disgracing himself right here in front of everyone.” Victoria frantically pulled the duvet up, trying to cover Liam’s pale, naked body. Her brows knitted together in intense annoyance. “Arthur Sterling! When are you going to stop throwing this tantrum?!” “You overslept and missed the ceremony! Liam only took your place at the altar to protect your family’s reputation!” “I had too much to drink earlier, so I didn’t recognize him in the dark. But now that we’ve slept together, I have to take responsibility for Liam.” “Anyway, you’re both sons of your family. It doesn’t matter which one of you I marry; it won’t affect the corporate merger between our families.” “I know you’re desperately in love with me, and you brought all these people here to cause a scene because you want to switch back.” “Don’t worry. Even if I stay married to Liam, I can guarantee that the position of the Sterling family’s primary heir will forever belong to the child you and I have together.” “There. Are you satisfied now?” My dad was grinding his teeth so hard they looked ready to shatter. “Arthur is the sole, legitimate heir to my family! You were caught sleeping with another man on your wedding day, and now you have the audacity to humiliate him like this?!” I forced my eyes to turn red, letting a pool of unshed tears gather in my lower lashes. My mom pulled me into her arms, looking heartbroken, while my dad stood protectively in front of us. He turned to me and said, “Arthur, don’t worry. Dad will get justice for you!” The guests were whispering furiously, casting looks of absolute disgust at the people in the bed. “Did I hear that right? His family is one of the most respected, powerful dynasties in New York, and the Sterling heiress wants the legitimate heir to act as her secret sidepiece?” “The real heir is over six feet tall and built like an athlete. The fake son is short and scrawny. How drunk would the Sterling heiress have to be to mistake the two of them in bed?” Hearing the crowd’s mockery, Victoria frowned deeply in displeasure. She looked at me as if I were an irrational, hysterical child throwing a baseless tantrum. “Arthur, it’s just a minor hiccup. I already promised you that your child will be my primary heir. If you want to move into the Sterling mansion later, I won’t stop you.” “Why are you being so relentless? Dragging all these people here to make us a laughingstock… you are being completely unreasonable!” Looking at her arrogant, self-righteous face, I was so angry I actually laughed! She wanted to use my family’s wealth to throw a century-defining wedding for her and the fake son, and then expected me to willingly play the “other man,” ensuring my future child would be born as a dirty, illegitimate secret. What massive, delusional audacity! The Sterling family’s ancestors had been brilliant, but by her generation, the dynasty was nothing but a rotting, hollow shell hiding behind a gilded exterior. If it weren’t for the arranged marriage pact made by our grandfathers, and the massive financial backing my family provided, her name would have been wiped from the Manhattan elite registry a long time ago. And Victoria actually thought she could have her cake and eat it too, enjoying a harem of men. She was absolutely dreaming! My dad was so furious he started laughing. “The Sterling family has barely enjoyed a few days of luxury, and you’ve already forgotten how you used my family’s money to claw your way out of bankruptcy?” Victoria’s grandmother, the matriarch of the Sterling family, hurriedly pushed her way through the crowd to run damage control. “Now, now, what kind of talk is that?” “Planning a wedding is exhausting. Victoria has been working herself to the bone for a month. It’s totally understandable that she had a momentary lapse in judgment today.” “It’s just a simple misunderstanding. Once we talk it out, everything will be fine.” My family had always been cautious. A month before the wedding, my parents had hired a private investigator to look into Victoria. The night before the wedding, the PI handed me a thick stack of explicit photos of Victoria and Liam hooking up. I was shocked, furious, but mostly, in disbelief. Until I stumbled upon that viral Reddit post. I abruptly woke up to reality. Victoria wasn’t just cheating; she was plotting to use my family’s immense wealth as a stepping stone to rebuild her empire. And once my family outlived our usefulness, she was going to orchestrate our bankruptcy and destroy us. I was absolutely not going to let her vicious scheme succeed. Hearing the grandmother’s excuses, my mom let out a cold scoff. “Mrs. Sterling, do you think everyone in my family is a complete idiot?” “Arthur was brought back to our estate when he was ten. He and your granddaughter grew up in the same social circles. No matter how ‘exhausted’ she was, how could she possibly mistake the man she’s known for over a decade in her own bed?” Hearing this, Liam hurriedly threw on a silk bathrobe, dropped to his knees with a loud thud in front of the crowd, and began crying beautifully, like a tragic victim in a movie. “Mom, it’s all my fault! My brother overslept! I was so terrified our family would be humiliated, so I took it upon myself to put on the tuxedo!” He turned his head to look at me, tears streaming down his face, his voice breaking. “Brother, it’s all my fault! But no matter what happened, Victoria and I are already legally married! If you keep causing a scene like this, you’re the one throwing away our family’s reputation! Even if you don’t care about me, don’t you care about the family that gave you life?!” His eyes were bloodshot. He looked so pitiful and wronged, as if he were the victim of a massive injustice, completely erasing the fact that he was the one who conspired to sleep with the bride. Instead, I was the villain who was embarrassing the family by demanding justice. Right at that moment, the private investigator I had contacted earlier arrived, handing a thick envelope to my dad. “Sir, I’m afraid this situation is far darker than it seems.” My dad ripped the envelope open. Inside were the explicit photos I had obtained earlier. In photo after photo, Victoria and Liam were engaged in degrading, humiliating sexual acts, completely disregarding any basic sense of human decency or morality. My dad’s face turned beet red with rage. He violently hurled the stack of photos onto the bed. “What else does the Sterling family have to say for themselves?!” “Mrs. Sterling! If your granddaughter was in love with our housekeeper’s son, she could have just said so! There was absolutely no need to orchestrate this disgusting circus on her wedding day to humiliate my son!” “The corporate merger is terminated immediately! My family is pulling all our funding from the Sterling Corporation!” The moment my dad’s words hit the air, the Sterling matriarch’s face went ghastly white. Without my family’s massive capital injections, the Sterling Corporation’s supply chain would instantly collapse, leaving them drowning in astronomical debt. The matriarch swung her hand and delivered a brutal, resounding slap directly across Victoria’s face. “Look at what you’ve done! Look at the disaster you’ve caused!” With that, she pointed a trembling finger at Liam. “Guards! Grab this filthy stray dog and throw him out into the street!” Victoria covered her stinging cheek, shooting me a glare so venomous and hateful it felt like she wanted to skin me alive. In her twisted mind, I—the victim—had become the villain who ruined her wedding and destroyed her relationship with her grandmother. She shielded Liam behind her, stubbornly locking eyes with the matriarch. “Grandma! Liam and I grew up together. We’re truly in love! If Arthur hadn’t shamelessly begged and forced me to marry him, Liam and I would have been together years ago!” She shot me a look of absolute, unadulterated contempt. “Arthur is arrogant, spoiled, and completely unworthy of being the husband of the Sterling CEO. I already promised him that his child would inherit everything! What right does he have to drag all these people here to throw a tantrum, humiliating both our families?!” Looking at her shameless, delusional face, my stomach churned with disgust and profound regret. How could I have ever been blindly devoted to someone this vile? I stared coldly at the adulterous couple, mercilessly ripping away their last shred of dignity. “So what you’re saying is… you two conspired to swap my daily vitamins with heavy sedatives, causing me to oversleep and miss the ceremony, and you genuinely believe you did both our families a massive favor?” “I simply accompanied my parents here to cancel this pathetic circus, and suddenly I’m the criminal ruining both families’ reputations?” I leaned forward, locking eyes with both of them, and spoke in a voice loud enough for every single person in the room to hear clearly: “If you two were so madly in love, why didn’t you just announce it from the beginning?” “Was it because you specifically wanted to trample my family’s dignity into the dirt? Or was it because you didn’t just want a wedding… you wanted to steal every single penny of my family’s entire fortune?!” The faces of the two people in front of me instantly drained of all color, turning as white as paper. Victoria’s eyes darted around nervously as she stammered, “What… what nonsense are you talking about?!” Tears streamed down Liam’s face as his voice trembled. “Brother, just because you couldn’t win the heart of the woman you love, why must you falsely accuse me out of jealousy? I genuinely love Victoria!” I tapped my phone screen once. Instantly, the link to the viral Reddit post from last night was Airdropped and texted to every single person in the room. The guests clicked the link. The entire horrific plot was laid bare for everyone to see. “What a disgusting pair of sociopaths! Using such filthy, underhanded methods to climb the social ladder, and then plotting to destroy their benefactors! Absolute scum!” “Doing something this vile and then bragging about it on the internet? If that was my kid, I’d strangle him myself to save the family from ruin!” Some people directed their crosshairs entirely at Victoria. “The Sterling heiress really has absolutely zero shame. If she wanted the housekeeper’s son, she should have just married him.” “Orchestrating this entire trap… it was obviously for the dowry, right? Plotting to steal their family fortune, while simultaneously forcing the legitimate heir to act as her secret sidepiece… Does she think our elite social circles are entirely populated by idiots?!” The Sterling matriarch trembled with apocalyptic rage. She swung her hand and delivered another brutal slap to Victoria’s face. Victoria’s head snapped to the side, but she still instinctively wrapped her arms around Liam to protect him. Seeing this, the matriarch was consumed by fury and despair, clutching her chest. “You ungrateful, rebellious child! When are you going to wake up?! You still refuse to repent?!” “Crawl over to your father-in-law and mother-in-law right now! Beg for their forgiveness! Throw that filthy stray out of this room immediately, and finish the wedding ceremony with Arthur properly!” With that, she turned to me, her face plastered with a desperate, fawning smile, and reached out to grab my hand. I didn’t change my expression. I simply took a half-step backward, smoothly dodging her grasp. The matriarch’s smile froze for a second before she doubled down on her groveling. “Arthur, my dear boy, this is entirely our fault. I failed to discipline my granddaughter properly.” “As her grandmother, I am personally apologizing to you. Whatever you want, the Sterling family will give it to you.” “I promise you, nothing like this will ever, ever happen again.” At that exact moment, Victoria straightened her back, her face a mask of absolute, stubborn defiance. “Grandma! The man I love is Liam! In this lifetime, the only man who will ever sit in the seat of the CEO’s husband is him!” “We aren’t even married yet, and Arthur is already acting this arrogant and disrespectful! He has zero respect for our family!” “If you force me to marry a man like him, it will literally kill me!” “If it weren’t for the sake of our family’s alliance, even touching that naive idiot would make me sick! Me being willing to give him a child was already an act of supreme charity!” “If he doesn’t know what’s good for him, then he can enjoy being the laughingstock of all of Manhattan! A man whose engagement was canceled in public… he’s lower than a pool boy! Who would ever dare to marry him now?!” I looked coldly at the woman I had deemed the love of my life since I was ten years old. Fourteen years of history. I had given her almost everything a person could possibly give. Two years ago, when the old Mr. Sterling passed away, the stunningly mediocre Victoria took over as CEO of the Sterling Corporation. Within three short months, she managed to offend more than half of their primary investors. Not only did she completely botch the corporation’s flagship project, but despite the fierce opposition of her entire board of directors, she aggressively poured money into over a dozen ventures that were guaranteed to fail. In just six months, the Sterling dynasty—which had taken a century to build—had its supply chains completely ruptured and was drowning in billions of dollars of debt. The Sterling family liquidated their assets, but they still couldn’t cover the deficit. Seeing a century-old legacy about to burn to the ground, I begged my father to step in and save the Sterling Corporation from declaring bankruptcy. At the time, Victoria had knelt in front of my father, weeping hysterically, swearing that she would never betray me in this lifetime. She swore that between us, there would only ever be death, never separation. Relying entirely on my family’s immense resources and connections across multiple industries, Victoria was able to bring the Sterling family back from the brink of death in just two years. Now, before the Sterling family had even stabilized their footing in the elite circles of Manhattan, she was already impatient to force me into being her illegitimate sidepiece. The guests in the room looked at her like she was completely clinically insane. Everyone in the room knew that while the corporation technically bore the name “Sterling,” aside from Victoria holding the empty title of CEO, the company essentially belonged entirely to my family. A woman who relied completely on her fiancé’s money to maintain her billionaire lifestyle… where did she find the audacity to provoke her literal financial lifeline like this? But Victoria was completely oblivious. She genuinely believed that I was still desperately, unconditionally obsessed with her, just like before. Seeing my silence, she tightened her grip around Liam’s waist. “Arthur, if you get down on your knees and bash your head against the floor three times right now, I might be generous enough to forgive your childish tantrum.” “Otherwise, you will never even get the chance to give me a child, let alone move into the Sterling estate!” Looking at her arrogant, delusional, nauseating face, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. An idiot like this… whoever wants her can have her. A man destined for greatness doesn’t walk into a cursed house. My dad let out a freezing, booming scoff. “The absolute treasure of our family… do you really think you are worthy of even speaking his name?” “This wedding is canceled.” “In the future, if Arthur ever wants a wife, there are countless brilliant, elite women in New York who would line up around the block for him. If he never wants to marry, I will gladly support him for the rest of his life.” With that, he clapped his hands three times. His voice dropped to a dark, commanding baritone as he ordered his security detail: “Men! Pack up every single piece of my son’s dowry and load it back into the trucks!” “The two hundred briefcases of cash, the equity shares in twenty different tech firms, the ten custom Rolls-Royces, the thirty luxury properties across eight different countries… and the three billion dollars in liquid cash wired into the Sterling corporate accounts. Claw every single penny of it back! Do not leave a single cent behind!” The sheer, astronomical magnitude of my dowry made the entire room gasp in collective shock. “The Sterling family is completely finished. Without his family’s money, the Sterlings aren’t even a hollow shell!” “Throwing away a billion-dollar empire for the son of a housekeeper… she is literally as stupid as a pig!” Liam screamed in pure, unadulterated panic. “No! That dowry belongs to me!” My mom stepped forward and delivered a brutal, resounding slap directly across his face. “Our family only has one legitimate son! You think you are worthy of dreaming about that dowry?! If you want a dowry, go ask your housekeeper mother for it!” My family’s private security team flooded into the room, preparing to confiscate the assets. “Hold it right there!” Victoria stood up, using her body to block the security team. “Father-in-law, have you conveniently forgotten the prenuptial agreement our families signed during the engagement?” “Only if I betray a son of your family do you have the right to withdraw your funding. Otherwise, not only does this entire dowry belong to the Sterling family, but your family is also legally obligated to surrender all your corporate equity to us!” “Liam’s name is legally registered under your family’s household. At the end of the day, he is technically a son of your family. Everyone in this room is a witness! The Sterling family kept our promise! It is your family that is breaching the contract!” Legally, her words were flawless. My dad was so furious the blood rushed to his head; he clutched his chest, gasping heavily for air. My mom’s eyes were blood-red. She wanted to fight for justice, but Victoria’s airtight legal defense left her completely speechless. Liam twisted his waist, leaning seductively against Victoria’s chest, smiling with absolute, victorious arrogance. “Brother, it doesn’t matter if Mom and Dad refuse to acknowledge me. What matters is that I am now the legally recognized husband of the Sterling CEO.” “If you’re willing to drop to your knees right now, bark like a dog, crawl through my legs, and entertain me… for the sake of the family that raised me, I might be generous enough to get Dad a job as a security guard.” “Consider your dowry a tribute to me, the legitimate husband. It will all be transferred directly into my personal accounts.” The Sterling family’s private security violently shoved me aside. It looked as though my entire dowry was about to be swallowed whole by the Sterling family. My mom, enraged, tried to physically block them, but the Sterling guards, emboldened by their sudden power, shoved her hard, sending her crashing to the floor.

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