My hopeless romantic roommate had been chasing the campus golden boy for three years. Then, out of nowhere, she announced in our group chat: “I’ve decided I’m done chasing him! To celebrate, I’m treating the whole dorm to a private boudoir photoshoot this Friday. No one is allowed to skip!” The group chat instantly exploded. Everyone was cheering. I was the only one whose blood ran cold. When that golden boy texted her, “My phone broke,” she borrowed money just to send it to him, living off ramen noodles for months to pay it back. Now, someone like that is suddenly “over him” and willing to drop over a thousand bucks to buy us a private photoshoot? The more I thought about it, the more my stomach tied itself in knots. That very night, I went to my RA, faked a sick leave, and took the red-eye bus straight home. Saturday morning, I woke up and checked my phone. 63 missed calls. 99+ text messages. My roommate had sent me a sobbing voice memo: “Chloe! You are so lucky you didn’t show up! Do you have any idea what Mia did with our photos?!” I opened the dorm group chat and instantly understood everything. That photoshoot was never about getting over a boy. 1 It started when Mia suddenly announced: “Girls, I have huge news! I’m officially done chasing Liam!” The dorm went silent for a second. “To celebrate my rebirth, I’m paying for all of us to get a besties boudoir photoshoot this Friday!” “It’s a $150-a-head premium package! The photographer is a new friend of mine, and he’s booking out the entire studio just for us!” “Everyone show up bare-faced, and make sure you bring your driver’s license. The studio requires ID registration to enter.” A second later, the entire dorm erupted. “Are you serious?! $150 a head? That’s almost a thousand bucks for the six of us!” “Mia, you finally saw the light! Happy rebirth day!” My bottom-bunk roommate literally lunged across the room to hug her. “Wait, hold on,” our dorm president said, sitting up in bed. “Is it one of those really sexy boudoir shoots? Does it include hair and makeup?” “Yes! Full glam and wardrobe included!” Mia beamed proudly. “It’s my friend’s studio, they have top-of-the-line equipment.” “Oh my god, posing in front of a camera in lingerie… just thinking about it makes me blush.” “Wow! We’re actually going to look like models, this is so exciting!” Everyone was cheering. I was the only one whose blood was slowly turning to ice. Because my brain was flashing through everything Mia had done over the last three years. She had worshipped that golden boy for three solid years. When she got caught signing in for his attendance in lectures, she took the academic penalty for it. For his birthday, she Venmoed him $500 and lived off dining hall crackers for the rest of the month. Last year, when he texted her, “I dropped my phone,” she borrowed money from girls across our entire floor, scrounging up $1,200 to send him. She ate instant ramen for two months straight after that. For three years, every single cent she had went to that guy. And someone like that was suddenly just… done? And could magically pull a thousand dollars out of nowhere to treat the whole dorm to a photoshoot? Where did the money come from? And then there was that specific sentence: “Bring your driver’s license. The studio requires ID registration.” I’ve done photoshoots before. No legitimate photography studio requires clients to register with a government ID. I finally spoke up. “Mia, why does the studio need our IDs?” The dorm went quiet for half a beat. Mia blinked innocently. “For their records. All legitimate studios do it.” “I did a shoot last year. Nobody asked for my ID.” “Well, maybe that place wasn’t legit,” she waved her hand dismissively, smiling. “My friend’s studio is very professional. The photos might be used for their online portfolio, so they need to register our likeness.” “What online portfolio?” “Ugh, why are you asking so many questions?!” My bottom-bunk roommate snapped, clearly annoyed. “Chloe, she’s paying for you to go for free.” I looked at Mia. “This whole thing feels extremely sketchy.” The cheering died completely. Five pairs of eyes turned to stare at me. “Chloe, what is your problem?” “She finally gets over her toxic crush, and you just have to rain on her parade?” “Seriously, you try to find a conspiracy theory in everything.” The dorm president frowned. “If you really don’t want to go, just say so. Don’t be such a buzzkill.” Mia didn’t get mad. Instead, her smile grew even softer: “Chloe, I know you’re just trying to save me money. But I’ve lived the last three years feeling so miserable. I just want to treat my friends for once, okay?” As soon as she said that, everyone immediately felt sorry for her. I became the villain. I shut my mouth. There’s no point trying to reason with people when the dopamine has already taken over. Later that night, I pulled up a screenshot on my phone. Just one week ago, Mia had ordered delivery for that same golden boy, leaving the delivery note: “Remember to eat! <3" She was still worshipping him a week ago, and now she was suddenly reborn? The whole "moving on" narrative was an act. But who was she putting on the act for? The more I thought about it, the colder I felt. I immediately texted my RA, claiming I had severe food poisoning and needed to go home to see my family doctor. Then I booked a bus ticket for early the next morning. Right after I booked it, Mia sent me a DM. "Chloe, you absolutely have to come on Friday." I replied: "I'm sick. I'm going home tomorrow." She replied instantly. "What kind of sick? Can't you just go to the campus clinic?" "It's food poisoning. I need to go home." "Can't you just leave after the shoot on Friday? Just stay two more days." "No." She kept pushing. "Come on, the whole dorm needs to be there together." "The photographer really wants all of us to show up." I stared at the message. The photographer really wants all of us to show up. Why would a stranger care if everyone showed up? If one person didn't come, it would just be less work for him. Unless. He had an ulterior motive. 2 Early the next morning, just as I was leaving the dorm with my suitcase, Mia blocked the doorway. "Chloe, are you actually leaving?" "Yeah. Going home to see a doctor." She smiled, tugging at my sleeve. "Girl, it's just two days. Can't you just wait until after the shoot on Friday? It's my first time treating everyone, it'll suck if you aren't there." "I have food poisoning. I can barely stand up without throwing up." "Then I'll take you to the campus clinic! You can get some IV fluids, and you'll be fine by Friday." "IV fluids won't fix it. I need to go home for an endoscopy." Her smile faded slightly. "Can't you get an endoscopy at the local hospital?" "Mia," I looked right at her. "Why are you so desperate for me to stay?" She froze for a second, then pulled out her phone to show me a Venmo receipt. "Look, I already paid the deposit. It's for six people. If we're short one person, I lose the deposit." "However much it is, I'll Venmo you back." The moment I said that, the fake smile completely vanished from her face. "It's not about the money!" "Then what is it about?" She opened her mouth but couldn't come up with an answer. Then she physically stepped in front of my suitcase, blocking my path. She lowered her voice. "Chloe." "If you aren't there on Friday, it's going to be really hard for me to explain." Explain. I asked her flatly. "You're treating your own friends to a photoshoot," I enunciated every word. "Who exactly do you have to explain it to?" Her pupils dilated. For a fraction of a second, I saw sheer panic in her eyes. But a second later, she forced a smile back onto her face. "I mean, it'll be hard to explain to the photographer. He already set aside the time slot for us." "If there's one less person, he does less work." "Chloe, what is your problem?!" Her voice suddenly spiked in pitch. "I'm paying for you out of my own pocket, and you're interrogating me like I'm a criminal?!" A few girls down the hall poked their heads out to see what was happening. I didn't expose her lies. "Move. I have a bus to catch." She didn't budge. "Mia. Move." We stared each other down for a few agonizing seconds before she finally stepped aside. As I walked toward the stairs, I heard her mutter behind my back: "Chloe, you never trust me." I didn't look back. It's not that I don't trust you. It's that I don't trust the invisible person pulling your strings. While waiting for the bus, I did three things. First, I opened my iCloud shared albums and permanently deleted every single photo that Mia had access to. We had lived together for two years. There were hundreds of photos of me in those albums. Front profiles, side profiles, smiling, serious. All gone. Second, a memory suddenly flashed in my mind. Last semester, Mia had borrowed my face. She said she needed to register for some new app that required a "live facial verification," but the camera kept rejecting her face. She asked me to just "blink twice at the camera" for her to help her bypass it. I hadn't thought much of it at the time. Thinking back on it now, my scalp tingled with cold dread. I immediately went into my banking and payment apps, disabled all facial recognition login features, and changed every single password. Third, I texted my RA. "Hey, while I'm on medical leave, if anything happens with my dorm room, please contact me immediately." Just as I hit send, the bus engine rumbled to life. My phone buzzed. Mia had sent one final message. "You're going to regret missing this opportunity." I stared at the screen for a long time. Opportunity? Since when did a free photoshoot become an "opportunity"? And whose opportunity was it? I powered off my phone and made a hard rule for myself. I would not turn it back on until Saturday. No matter what happened. 3 When I got home, I faced a three-front interrogation. The first front was my mom. Anyone who claims they took a sick leave for severe food poisoning, walks through the door, drops their bags, and instantly scarfs down an entire plate of pasta is bound to look suspicious. "Food poisoning?" My mom stared at my empty plate. "You have severe food poisoning, but you can eat two bowls of pasta?" "I'm mostly better now." "Chloe." She put down her fork. "Why did you really come home?" "What are you running from?" "I'm not running from anything." "Not running from anything, but you booked a red-eye bus? Not running from anything, but your phone is turned off? I called you four times!" I opened my mouth to speak. How was I supposed to explain that I suspected my roommate was setting up the entire dorm? What proof did I have? That she offered to pay for a photoshoot? That she told us to bring our IDs? If I said it out loud, even my mom would think I was paranoid and crazy. "School was just stressing me out. I wanted to come home and rest for a couple of days." "Rest for a couple of days, so you lie about being sick? Chloe, you've never lied about being sick in your life." "Mom, please just drop it, okay?!" I raised my voice. My mom froze, staring at me for a long moment. "Fine." She stood up to clear the plates. "Whenever you want to talk about it, we'll talk." I sat in my room, feeling a suffocating tightness in my chest. I was just trying to protect myself, but I ended up looking like a liar, a buzzkill, and a completely irrational psycho. The second wave hit on Thursday afternoon. My parents' landline rang. My cell was turned off, so they had actually gone to the university directory to find my home number. As soon as I picked up, someone started screaming. "Chloe! What is wrong with you?!" It was my bottom-bunk roommate. "Mia is literally crying right now! She said you single-handedly ruined the entire photoshoot for all of us! Our deposit is going to be voided, do you understand that?!" The dorm president grabbed the phone, her voice equally hostile. "Chloe, if you don't show up on Friday, the six-person package deal gets canceled. It was $150 a person. Are you going to cover that?" "If it's canceled, it's canceled. I'll pay her back for the deposit." "You'll pay her back?! Can you pay her back for her effort?!" My roommate laughed bitterly. "Mia spent two weeks organizing this for us!" I took a deep breath. "Let me ask you guys a question." "Someone who has been obsessing over a guy for three years, lived off crackers for three years, and hasn't bought herself a new piece of clothing in three years." "Where did she suddenly get a thousand dollars to treat all of us?" The other end of the line went dead silent for a second. "Maybe she saved it up! Maybe her parents sent it to her!" "Her parents only send her a hundred bucks a month for groceries. You guys know that." "Then maybe it was a scholarship!" "She failed two classes last semester." Another long silence. Then, my roommate's voice grew even more aggressive. "Chloe, why are you so dark and paranoid?! She's trying to do something nice for us, and you're demanding to audit her bank account?!" "Yeah, I'm paranoid," I said calmly. "Then do me a favor and ask her why a legitimate photography studio needs our driver's licenses." "For their records! Mia already told us, they need to register our information!" "Register what? It's a photoshoot, not checking into a hotel." "You...!" She was fuming now. "You just can't stand seeing someone else do something nice for us! You're just jealous that Mia is finally getting her life together and moving on!" "If you want to be paranoid and miserable, fine, but don't drag the rest of us down into your toxic mindset!" Click. She hung up on me. I stood there, gripping the landline receiver for a long time. Was I hurt? Yes. But I didn't waver. There are some parties you can skip, and the only consequence is missing out on gossip. But there are other parties where, once you show up, you never get to leave. The third wave came late Thursday night. Around 11:30 PM, the landline rang again. My mom was already asleep, so I quietly tiptoed out to answer it. This time, it was Mia herself. Her voice was trembling. "Chloe." "I'm going to ask you one last time." "Are you coming tomorrow or not?" I gripped the receiver tightly. "Mia, I'm going to ask you one last time, too." "Who exactly are these photos being taken for?" On the other end of the line, her breathing faltered for a second. "They're for us, obviously." "Then tell me, why does it have to be me? Can't the five of you just go?" "Chloe, please just stop asking questions." Her voice suddenly cracked into a desperate sob. "What could possibly happen at a photoshoot? Just pretend it's the last time we'll ever take photos together." "Why is it the last time?" She didn't answer. "Mia, are you in trouble? If you're in trouble, tell me now. It's not too late." A long, agonizing silence. So long that I thought she had hung up. Then, she whispered softly: "I'm sorry." Beep. The call disconnected. All the hairs on my arms stood up. Sorry for what? Sorry to who? I immediately hit redial. No answer. I dialed again. The number you have dialed is powered off. I barely slept that night. I wanted to turn my cell phone on a hundred times, and a hundred times I forced myself to stop. I made a promise to myself. I wouldn't turn it on until Saturday morning. When Saturday morning finally came, sunlight was streaming through my window. I sat up and grabbed my phone. I held down the power button. The second the screen lit up, my phone began vibrating violently. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Nonstop. Missed calls: 63. Messages in the dorm group chat: 99+. My text inbox was a solid wall of red notification badges. At the very top were voice memos from my bottom-bunk roommate. Row after row of red dots. I didn't click the voice memos. My fingers shaking, I clicked directly into the dorm group chat. The moment I saw the pinned message at the top. Every ounce of blood in my body turned to ice. 4 The pinned message was the last thing Mia posted before leaving the group chat forever. "I'm sorry. I was forced to." "He told me if I didn't have enough girls, I had to find a way to make up the difference myself." Below that, were hundreds of frantic, panicked messages from the other girls. "Where is Mia?! Her entire bed is cleared out!" "My money! Why is there a $3,000 personal loan deposited into my bank account?!" "Who else got sent those pictures?! That's not me! I swear to God that's not me!" With trembling hands, I called my roommate via FaceTime. She answered instantly. "Chloe, you didn't come... you really dodged a bullet." Sobbing uncontrollably, she gave me fragmented pieces of what had happened Friday night. The studio was in a sketchy office building on the outskirts of town. The so-called "photographer" was actually two men. The very first thing they did when the girls walked in was collect their driver's licenses, claiming it was for "registration." During the shoot, the directions were bizarre. "Look up." "Face the camera directly." "Blink." "Open your mouth and read this string of numbers aloud." The studio lights were blinding. The five girls took turns, and each one had dozens of close-up, front-facing videos taken. At the time, they just thought it was weird, but didn't feel like they were in danger. Until that night. Someone used facial recognition software in another state to apply for a $3,000 predatory payday loan using the dorm president’s identity. At 3:00 AM, my bottom-bunk roommate received an anonymous DM. It was an image. Her face had been seamlessly deepfaked onto an incredibly graphic, explicit pornographic video. The deepfake was so realistic that she had to stare at it twice to confirm the body wasn't hers. The blackmailer demanded $800 as a "deletion fee." Overnight, the faces, identities, and finances of all five girls were completely hijacked by strangers. And Mia? Her side of the dorm was entirely cleared out in the middle of the night. She vanished into thin air. "Chloe, look at this." My roommate sent me a secretly taken photo. It was the "registration form" from the studio. The header read Vanguard Media Studios. One of the fields on the form explicitly stated: Facial Biometric Data Collection Authorization. At the very bottom, in tiny, microscopic print: "I hereby consent to this studio utilizing collected biometric assets for commercial synthesis and promotional distribution." There were five neat signatures at the bottom. I was the only one missing. But my eyes were glued to the "Notes" section of the form. There was a handwritten sentence. "Chloe [Last Name], absent. Supplemental assets to be provided." Supplemental assets to be provided. My stomach dropped violently. Mia had access to two years' worth of group photos featuring my face. And Mia had already used my face to "blink twice at the camera" for her. I hadn't escaped the trap. I was just marked as a "delayed target." "There's one more thing," my roommate whispered, her voice barely audible. "We searched the contact info the photographer gave us, and we found an alternate social media account linked to his number..." She sent me another screenshot. The profile picture on the account—I recognized it instantly. It was the golden boy Mia had been obsessed with for three years. I sat on the edge of my bed, completely paralyzed for several minutes. Then, I stood up, booked a bus ticket back to campus for that afternoon, and typed a message into the group chat. "Listen to me, everyone." "First: Do not delete a single chat log, Venmo receipt, or photo from that studio. Save everything." "Second: Nobody is allowed to send a single cent for a 'deletion fee'. If you pay them once, they will bleed you dry forever." "Third: Do not reply to any unknown DMs. Especially do not beg, and do not admit the photos are real." "Meet me at the campus police station tonight at 8:00 PM." After sending it, I started packing my bag. My mom stood in the doorway, watching me. "Leaving again already?" "Mom," I looked up. "I'm sorry, I lied to you earlier. Something happened at the dorm. Something really bad. I have to go back." She stared at me for a few seconds, then turned, grabbed a hundred-dollar bill from her purse, and shoved it into my hand. "Be careful on the road. Call the house if you need anything." Right before I walked out the door, my phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number. Just one sentence. "Heard you missed the photoshoot?" "That's okay. We already have your face."

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “568432”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Chapter 1 I was in the middle of setting up the dehumidifiers for my new house when I got a call from the HOA manager of my old condo building. “Ms. Jenkins, your apartment leaked and ruined the downstairs neighbor’s collectible grand piano! They are demanding two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in damages!” I paused, confused. “Leaked to the downstairs neighbor?” Thinking I was trying to dodge responsibility, his tone turned hostile. “The downstairs resident made it clear: if you don’t pay up today, they’re calling the cops. They’re going to press charges for intentional destruction of private property and have you thrown in jail.” “You’re all neighbors. Please come deal with this immediately before it gets ugly.” I let out a cold laugh. “Sure. I’ll head over right now.” I really wanted to see how my ground-floor condo, which didn’t even have a basement underneath it, magically leaked onto a downstairs neighbor! … When I rushed back to the old, garden-style condo complex, the hallway was completely packed with onlookers. Chloe Miller stood at the front of the crowd, her eyes bloodshot from crying. Flanking her were a police officer and Mr. Henderson, the HOA manager. The moment she saw me, she lunged forward, her acrylic nails digging painfully into my arm. “Sarah! You finally showed your face!” “Your apartment leaked and completely destroyed my piano!” The glaring eyes of all the surrounding neighbors instantly pinned me down. I yanked my arm back and stared at her coldly. “Let’s get one thing straight. What do you mean, my apartment leaked?” As if triggered by my response, tears immediately spilled down Chloe’s face. Trembling, she opened a video on her phone and shoved the screen right into my face. “Look for yourself!” “There’s water entirely surrounding my piano! The legs are soaked, and the lid is literally dripping!” In the video, a black grand piano sat in the middle of a living room. The floor was covered in soggy towels, and water stains crept from the legs of the instrument all the way to the baseboards. Chloe pressed a hand to her chest, her voice shaking. “This isn’t just any piano. It’s an imported, custom-crafted collectible. It cost me two hundred and fifty thousand dollars!” “I have a major recital next month. Now it’s ruined, and I have absolutely no way to practice. What am I supposed to do?” “You didn’t just ruin my property, Sarah! You ruined my career! You ruined my life!” The neighbors immediately erupted into furious chatter. “A quarter-million-dollar piano! If it’s really ruined, this is a massive lawsuit.” “Ignoring a leak and acting like nothing happened? That is so messed up.” Mr. Henderson wiped the sweat from his forehead and advised me in a hushed tone. “Ms. Jenkins, you’re neighbors. Why don’t we sit down and negotiate a settlement before this escalates?” Watching Chloe look as if she were about to faint from distress, my heart turned to ice. “I didn’t cause any leak. Why the hell should I pay for it?” Chloe froze, biting her lip as if she couldn’t believe my audacity. “Sarah, don’t you dare play dumb!” She reached into her designer bag, pulled out a shipping manifest, and shoved it forward. “Officer, look at this! She’s been buying water pumps, hoses, and industrial dehumidifiers for days!” “If her apartment wasn’t flooding, why would she be buying drainage equipment?!” The onlookers immediately crowded in to look. “I work in construction. Those are definitely water extraction tools.” “No wonder she’s denying it so hard! She was probably just waiting for everyone to go to sleep tonight so she could secretly pump the water out and destroy the evidence!” The police officer’s expression darkened, and the way he looked at me grew far more suspicious. Chloe wiped her tears, her tone a mix of victimhood and aggression. “Sarah, I didn’t want to force your hand.” “But the evidence is right here. Just because you have enough money to buy a new house doesn’t mean you can bully a musician who relies on her piano to survive!” I stared at the shipping manifest for two seconds, and suddenly let out a laugh. “Do me a favor and read the fine print. The shipping address is for my new house, not this building.” “Those machines are for dehumidifying my newly renovated basement. It has absolutely nothing to do with your piano.” “My condo here has never leaked a single drop of water!” The color drained from Chloe’s face for a split second. Just as she was about to speak, the neighbor who lived next door to Unit 302 yelled out. “Bullshit!” “Your apartment leaked last month and flooded my bathroom ceiling! You think you can deny it now?!” Chapter 2 I was stunned. Before I could even react, he pulled out the HOA group chat logs. [To the lady in 302: Is your apartment leaking? The ceiling in my bathroom is covered in water stains.] [Owner of 302, please reply. Stop playing dead.] [If you don’t handle this, I’m calling the HOA!] That’s when it clicked. Half a month ago, someone in the chat did complain about a leak from Unit 302. But ever since my grandmother passed away three years ago, I had sold Unit 302 and permanently moved down to my ground-floor condo, Unit 102. When I saw the messages back then, I didn’t even associate them with myself. I had no idea they all still assumed I was the owner of 302. The angry neighbor glared at me and turned to the officer. “Officer, look at this. She gave us the silent treatment back then and forced us to eat the repair costs.” “I can’t believe she’s trying to deny it again today. Do not let her get away with this!” Listening to this, I found the situation hilariously absurd. “I haven’t owned Unit 302 for years. Why would I admit to a leak that isn’t mine?” Chloe was trembling with manufactured rage. She pointed at me furiously. “Sarah, the evidence has been slapped right across your face! How can you still lie?!” I ignored her and looked directly at the HOA manager. “Mr. Henderson, I’d like you to pull the resident registry right now. Show them exactly which unit I live in.” The officer nodded. “Agreed. This point needs to be clarified immediately.” Mr. Henderson’s eyes darted around nervously. He mumbled an excuse. “Well… the records for these older buildings are a bit messy. The old registry from a few years ago was lost during a system migration, and we haven’t finished compiling the new one yet.” Hearing this, a flash of smug triumph crossed Chloe’s eyes. She looked down, wiped her tears with the back of her hand, and spoke with pitiful grievance. “You hear that, Officer?” “She’s just taking advantage of the missing HOA records to lie through her teeth.” My brow furrowed, my tone turning deadly serious. “I am not lying. I do not live in 302, and my house did not cause this leak. This is defamation!” The moment those words left my mouth, Chloe’s eyes grew even redder. “Sarah, have you no conscience?!” “My home was destroyed by you! How can you stand there and accuse me of lying?!” With that, she violently twisted the knob and threw her front door open. The moment the door opened, the suffocating, musty stench of damp mold rolled out into the hallway. The edges of the living room ceiling were covered in massive yellow water stains, and droplets of water clung to the corners of the walls. The black grand piano was covered in water damage, and a dark, soaked ring stained the hardwood floor completely around it. She pointed a shaking finger at the dripping piano, her voice breaking dramatically. “I specially commissioned this master-crafted piano from Europe. The shipping alone cost me five thousand dollars.” “Now it’s soaked and warped. The keys won’t even play. The appraiser said it’s a total loss, completely beyond repair.” “Sarah, this piano is my entire life! Why on earth would I use my own life’s work just to frame you?!” Seeing the devastation inside the apartment, the neighbors completely turned against me. “Oh my god, look at that ceiling. It’s definitely coming from the unit above.” “The evidence is literally right in front of us. Why is she still pretending?” I stood in the doorway, staring at the water stains. My heart sank slightly. The water had definitely come from above. But “above” was not my house. I looked at Chloe. “I feel bad that your apartment flooded.” “But my sympathy doesn’t mean I’m going to pay for someone else’s mistake.” The frail, victimized look on Chloe’s face stiffened. She took a deep breath, abruptly wiped her tears away, and glared at me. “Fine. Since you’re still refusing to admit it, let’s open the door to the upstairs unit! Let the police and everyone here go inside and look!” “Let’s see if your apartment has any signs of a leak!” Chapter 3 The hallway fell dead silent. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on me. The officer nodded in agreement. “Ms. Jenkins, Ms. Miller makes a fair point. It would be best to open the door so we can inspect the premises.” “If there are no signs of a leak, it will clear your name.” But I shook my head. “I can’t open it.” The moment I said that, the neighbors swarmed closer. Someone tried to urge me: “Sarah, just open the door. It’s not hard.” “If it really wasn’t you, one look inside will prove it, right?” Others were openly antagonistic: “Hmph, she won’t open it because she’s guilty!” The officer’s face instantly darkened. “Ms. Jenkins, we are trying to help you clear your name. Please cooperate with the investigation!” Chloe looked up at me, her tone dripping with malice. “Sarah, is it that you can’t open the door, or that you’re too scared to open it?” “Are you afraid that the second the door opens and we see a flooded floor, your lie will be exposed?” Listening to her loaded questions, my heart sank further. I spoke coldly. “I can’t open the door to the upstairs unit because I sold it three years ago, right after my grandmother passed away.” “The sale contract is in my living room downstairs. Should I go get it for you right now?” Chloe’s expression faltered for a second, but then she smiled. “Sarah, to get out of paying your debts, are you really denying where you live?” “I literally saw the delivery driver leave your package at the door of 302 yesterday! And you’re still saying you don’t live there?” Watching her absolute certainty, I couldn’t help but laugh. Yesterday, I did go up to the third floor to grab a package. I had forgotten to update my default address on Amazon, and the driver accidentally left my delivery at the door of my old unit. I went up to look for it after getting the delivery notification. I never expected that she would use that as proof that I lived upstairs. I explained coldly. “The driver delivered it to the wrong floor. I simply went upstairs to retrieve my own property.” Chloe completely dismissed it. “What a convenient coincidence. The exact day your package was ‘delivered to the wrong floor’ just happens to be the day my apartment flooded?” The neighbors eagerly backed her up. “Yeah, that sounds like a massive excuse!” “Who accidentally goes to someone else’s door to get a package? She probably lives there full-time.” Listening to their accusations, my brow furrowed deeply. “I grabbed my package and left. I haven’t been to the third floor since.” Chloe’s eyes immediately went red again. “Ms. Jenkins, even now, you’re still denying it?” She bit her lip, putting on a flawless performance of a woman pushed to her absolute breaking point. “We’re neighbors. I wanted to leave you some dignity, but you’re forcing my hand.” With that, she pulled up a security video on her phone. “I just went to the HOA office and pulled the hallway security footage for the third floor. It clearly shows her entering Unit 302 this morning!” I was stunned. The next second, I looked at the footage. A woman wearing the exact same blouse and jeans I was currently wearing walked straight up to the door of 302. She seamlessly typed in the passcode, opened the door, and walked inside. Chloe handed the phone to the police officer. “Sarah, the security camera caught you entering 302. Are you still going to deny it?” Chapter 4 I stared at the footage, almost doubting my own eyes. A light-colored jacket, white sneakers, even her posture as she walked bore a striking resemblance to mine. But I knew the truth. At that exact time, I was across town at my new house. I looked up at the HOA manager, my voice dangerously tight. “That footage is tampered with.” Mr. Henderson immediately waved his hands defensively, a layer of sweat forming on his forehead. “Ms. Jenkins, you can’t just make wild accusations like that.” “The building’s security cameras are automatically backed up to the system. There are server logs. No one touched them.” “The clip on Ms. Miller’s phone was exported and sent directly by our office. I guarantee there was zero human manipulation.” The officer inspected the video on the phone and nodded. “The video shows no obvious signs of splicing or artificial editing.” That sentence dropped into the crowd like a bomb. The neighbors absolutely exploded. The older woman pointed a trembling finger at me, furious. “You’re literally on camera opening the door, and you still say it isn’t you?!” Someone else sneered. “People these days are terrifying. The evidence is shoved in her face and she still denies it.” I looked at their mocking, judgmental eyes, and my hands clenched into tight fists. Chloe dabbed at the corner of her eye. Her tone softened, but her face radiated pure, smug triumph. “Sarah, we’re neighbors. I really didn’t want to escalate things to this level.” “I know a quarter of a million dollars is a massive amount of money. How about this? I’ll take a step back.” “You can pay in installments. You pay fifty thousand upfront today, and I’ll give you two months to come up with the remaining two hundred thousand.” The crowd immediately began feeling sorry for her. “This poor girl is being so accommodating, and Sarah is still acting like this?” “Yeah, just pay the money and learn your lesson. You don’t want this going to court, it’ll ruin you.” Mr. Henderson wiped his sweat and chimed in. “Ms. Jenkins, the evidence is incredibly damning right now.” “If you’re willing to sign a settlement agreement, we can resolve this privately.” Chloe pulled a pre-drafted legal agreement from her purse and gently placed it in front of me. “I don’t want to destroy your reputation, and I don’t want you to go to jail.” “Sign this, and I won’t press charges for intentional destruction of property.” “Don’t you have a new house? If worse comes to worst, you can sell this old condo. That will easily cover the damages.” The moment she said that, the neighbors grew even more eager, pressuring me from all sides. “Exactly! Selling a house is better than sitting in a prison cell!” Someone even started doing the math for me. “Two properties? You’ve got plenty of equity. Just liquidate one.” I stared at the settlement agreement. The $250,000 figure in the damages column burned my eyes. That’s when I finally understood. She didn’t want justice. She had calculated this entire thing from the very beginning. She wanted to extort me for a massive payday using my property as collateral. Officer Davis looked at me, his tone growing stern. “Ms. Jenkins, if both parties cannot reach an amicable settlement, Ms. Miller is well within her rights to pursue legal action.” “At that point, you won’t just be paying damages. If the intent was malicious, you could be facing prison time.” “If you have any actual evidence to prove your innocence, I suggest you present it immediately.” Chloe aggressively shoved a pen into my hand, her voice brimming with absolute certainty. “Sarah, the evidence is ironclad. You can’t lie your way out of this one!” “Just sign the paper and stop embarrassing everyone.” I looked at the smug, triumphant expressions on their faces. I dropped the pen directly onto the floor. “Officer Davis, I do actually have one more piece of evidence I haven’t shown you.” Chloe’s smile froze. I reached into my bag, pulled out my property deed, and handed it directly to the officer. “This is the deed to my property. It states, in black and white, that my condo is located on the ground floor. Unit 102.” The blood slowly drained from Chloe’s face. I looked at her and smiled. “Please, explain it to the police.” “How does the plumbing from a ground-floor condo leak UP into a second-floor ceiling?” Chapter 5 The hallway went as silent as a graveyard. Chloe stared dead at my property deed, the tears still clinging to her eyelashes, but her lips had turned completely white. I smoothed the deed out in front of the police officer and spoke slowly, emphasizing every word. “Look closely. My condo is on the ground floor.” “For my apartment to flood Chloe’s ceiling, this entire building would have to be flipped upside down.” Someone in the crowd audibly gasped. The older woman who had been screaming at me the loudest looked uneasy, but she remained stubborn. “That still doesn’t prove the third-floor unit isn’t yours! Didn’t you say that condo belonged to your grandmother?!” As if suddenly grabbing a lifeline, Chloe snapped her head up. “Yes! Your grandmother passed away, so the property would naturally be inherited by you!” She looked at the police with red, tearful eyes, her voice choking with perfectly timed sobs. “Officer, she is such a manipulative liar.” “Showing you the deed for the first floor doesn’t mean Unit 302 has nothing to do with her.” “These old HOA records are a mess! Who knows if she’s just intentionally hiding the deed for the other unit?!” The neighbors were instantly swayed again. “That makes sense. It’s totally normal for a granddaughter to inherit a property.” “She admitted herself that the third-floor unit used to be her grandmother’s.” “No wonder she refused to open the door. She was definitely guilty!” I almost laughed out loud. The evidence was literally staring them in the face, but they were still desperately trying to force the blame onto my shoulders. I looked at Chloe and asked coldly: “Are you absolutely certain you want to keep insisting that I own 302?” Chloe bit her lip, a flash of vicious determination in her eyes. “Sarah, I’m not making things up. You’re the one who refuses to tell the truth.” “If you’re really innocent, then show us the proof that 302 doesn’t belong to you.” Mr. Henderson immediately chimed in. “Ms. Jenkins, since things have escalated to this point, it would be best if you clarified the ownership of the third-floor property.” I looked at the sweat gleaming on his forehead, a chilling realization settling in my chest. Since this entire ordeal started, he had been relentlessly pushing me to settle privately, constantly aiming the crosshairs at my back. I didn’t waste any more breath. I reached straight into my bag and pulled out another manila folder. “Fine. Let’s make things perfectly clear.” A flicker of panic crossed Chloe’s face, but she quickly masked it with a forced sneer. “Don’t try to fool us with forged documents.” I pulled out a contract and handed it to Officer Davis. “This is the official bill of sale and the title transfer documentation for Unit 302, executed after my grandmother’s death.” “The property was sold three years ago. Since that day, I have had absolutely zero connection to it.” Officer Davis took it and flipped to the first page. The onlookers craned their necks to see. Initially, I just wanted to shut them up. But the next second, my eyes landed on the buyer’s name, and my entire body froze. Written in black and white on the contract was a name. David Miller. The HOA manager checked his digital roster on his tablet and gasped. “This David Miller… he is Chloe Miller’s… husband.” The remaining color in Chloe’s face vanished instantly, leaving her looking like a ghost. I held the contract up right in front of her face and smiled. “Chloe. It turns out the unit upstairs… belongs to your family?” Chapter 6 Chloe’s pupils contracted violently. She instinctively took a half-step backward, her fingers gripping the strap of her purse so tightly her knuckles turned bone white. But she recovered incredibly fast. She immediately covered her mouth, and the tears started flowing on command. “I didn’t know! I swear I didn’t know!” She looked at the police, weeping, and then looked pleadingly at the neighbors. “David never discusses his real estate investments with me.” “I practice piano and rehearse for shows all day. How was I supposed to know he bought an investment property behind my back?!” She sounded so incredibly pitiful, her voice shaking violently. The neighbors, who had just been in shock, started hesitating again. “I guess spouses don’t always know everything about each other’s finances.” “A husband buying a property behind his wife’s back… it happens.” I let out a cold laugh. “You had absolutely no idea Unit 302 was bought by your husband, yet you were willing to swear on your life that it belonged to me?” Chloe choked on her words, then screamed in defensive desperation. “That’s because all the evidence pointed to you!” “You were on the security cameras, the package was delivered to you, you were the one who opened the door!” “My piano was destroyed! Shouldn’t I suspect the most suspicious person?!” With that sentence, she successfully repackaged herself as the ultimate victim once again. Officer Davis, however, didn’t follow her narrative. He looked at the contract and asked: “Ms. Miller, can we contact your husband right now?” Chloe’s eyes darted nervously. “He… he’s out of town on a business trip. It might not be a good time.” I immediately pulled out my phone. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a good time or not.” “This involves a quarter-million-dollar extortion claim, and severe water damage originating from a property registered in his name. As the legal owner, his presence is mandatory.” Officer Davis nodded and signaled for Chloe to make the call. Reluctantly, Chloe dialed the number, and under the officer’s instruction, put it on speakerphone. It rang for a long time before it finally connected. A man’s impatient voice blared through the speaker. “What now? Didn’t I tell you to hurry up and get her to sign the settlement agreement?!” Chloe’s face mutated in horror. She frantically lunged to turn off the speaker. Officer Davis physically blocked her hand. “Mr. Miller, this is the local police department.” “Regarding the severe water damage caused to the second-floor unit originating from Unit 302, which is registered under your name, we need you to cooperate with our investigation.” The line went dead silent. A few seconds later, David’s voice came back, layered in pure, unadulterated panic. “What do you mean, ‘my name’?! Don’t talk crazy!” Chloe shrieked desperately: “David, shut up!” But it was too late. Acting as if he hadn’t heard her warning, David blurted out the truth. “Didn’t you say Sarah would definitely sign the papers?! Why are the cops investigating ME?!” The moment that sentence dropped, the entire hallway felt like someone had hit the pause button on the universe. Every single neighbor froze in shock. The phone slipped from Chloe’s hand and crashed onto the floor. She was deathly pale, but she was still trying to maintain the lie. “No, no! It’s not what you think! He’s been drinking! He’s just talking nonsense!” I leaned down, picked up the phone, and handed it to Officer Davis. “He hasn’t even had a drink, but he’s already drunk?” Chloe whipped her head around and glared at me, her eyes filled with a hatred so venomous it looked like she wanted to tear my throat out. “Sarah, this is you! You colluded with him in advance, didn’t you?! You purposely set me up!” I looked at her, almost laughing from the sheer audacity. “Your own husband literally just admitted he was trying to force me to sign an extortion agreement, and somehow that’s my fault?” Chloe tried to lunge at me, but the police officers held her back. While everyone’s attention was fixed on her, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. The HOA manager, Mr. Henderson, was quietly shuffling toward the back of the crowd. His footsteps were light, but he was moving incredibly fast. My heart dropped. I stepped forward and physically blocked his path. “Mr. Henderson, the show isn’t over yet. Where are you rushing off to?”

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When the affair of the right-hand man and the mistress came to light, My father, the feared patriarch of the Sterling family, summoned all thirteen of his wives and all of us children into the grand hall of the estate. He cracked his heavy leather belt against the marble floor: “Speak! Which one of you put these horns on my head?!” Chloe Sterling, my half-sister, spoke up, her tone perfectly mild: “Well, in this whole house, only Harper doesn’t look much like you, Dad…” “And it seems like her family birthmark isn’t very visible, either.” The ninth wife, Chloe’s mother, never missed a chance to fan the flames. “Number Eight’s hair is already turning gray, but she still acts like a harlot every day.” “Who’s to say if her daughter actually has Sterling blood?” In my past life, my mother and I couldn’t defend ourselves. Even when I bared my back to show the ancestral birthmark, my paranoid father still whipped us both out of the house. Later, my mother froze to death in an alleyway, and I was sold to a nightclub, dying a miserable death under the neon lights. Now, surrounded by the glaring eyes of the entire family, I suddenly remembered something. The birthmark on Chloe’s collarbone… Whenever she sweated, it always faded, looking more like a layer of smeared makeup. So, I discreetly ordered a maid to fetch me a rough exfoliating towel… 1 Chloe gently supported the ninth wife, speaking softly: “Dad, please don’t get so angry, it’s bad for your health.” “Harper has always been so quiet, unlike the rest of us. We all inherited at least a little bit of your fiery temper.” She paused, acting as if she had just realized she said too much, and quickly lowered her head. My father raised his dark, stormy eyes. “Chloe, explain exactly what you mean by that.” Chloe’s shoulders trembled delicately. “Dad, I’m not saying anything bad about Harper.” “It’s just… I’ve just always felt that Harper never really looked like you, even when we were kids.” “And the birthmark on her back… I think I saw it once when we were little, but I haven’t seen it since.” “But I’m sure she’s a true Sterling. The eighth wife would never do anything to betray you.” Every child born into the Sterling family possessed a distinct, reddish-brown birthmark, though the location varied. Chloe’s was right above her collarbone, easily visible in a low-cut dress. Mine was on my spine, usually hidden beneath my clothes. Because of this, in my past life, those few sentences from Chloe were enough to push my mother and me onto the executioner’s block. My mother, Eleanor, went deathly pale and scrambled forward to her knees. “Arthur, I swear I didn’t.” “I barely even leave my own wing of the house…” My father cracked his belt against the floor tiles again, making my mother flinch in terror. He turned his cold gaze to me. “Harper Sterling.” “What do you have to say for yourself?” I spoke softly: “Dad, if you’re investigating an affair, you can’t just base your judgment on whoever cries the hardest.” The ninth wife, Vivian, changed color. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you accusing Chloe of setting you up?!” I looked right at her. “Why are you so anxious, Vivian? I didn’t mention your name.” The fake smile on Vivian’s face froze. “These earrings? All thirteen wives have a pair.” “The embroidered handkerchief only has the letter ‘E’ on it. My mother’s name is Eleanor, yes. But the third wife’s name is Evelyn, and there’s even a maid in your wing named Eliza.” “To accuse my mother based solely on these generic items is a bit too convenient.” Chloe spoke up, her voice gentle and soothing. “Harper, don’t be angry.” “Everyone just wants to get to the truth.” “But Mr. Davies has been running over to the eighth wife’s wing quite frequently lately. I’m not the only one who noticed.” My mother’s eyes grew red with panic. “Every time he came, the maids were present! I have never been alone with him!” Vivian scoffed. “Whether you were alone or not, who really knows?” “The staff in your wing are obviously going to lie for you.” My eyes turned to ice, and I grabbed Vivian’s wrist in a vice grip. Gasps echoed throughout the grand hall. My father stared at me, as if he were looking at a complete stranger. Chloe rushed forward to support Vivian. “Harper! How could you assault my mother? She’s just anxious for the truth!” I shoved Vivian’s arm away. “Is she anxious, or is she feeling guilty?” Vivian’s face went stark white, but she quickly recovered, shrieking: “Arthur, listen to her! She’s a junior, yet she dares to disrespect me like this! Who knows what kind of manners the eighth wife has been teaching her!” The fury in my father’s eyes boiled over. “Enough.” He stood up abruptly. “Bring Mr. Henderson out here.” 2 Mr. Henderson, the head butler, quickly entered the hall. “Sir, over the past two weeks, Mr. Davies has indeed visited the eighth wife’s residence, the West Wing, multiple times.” “A few of those visits were late at night.” The hall instantly erupted in whispers. Vivian immediately started fake-crying. “Arthur, did you hear that?! Late at night!” “What possible reason could your right-hand man have for visiting a wife’s quarters late at night?!” My mother swayed, almost collapsing. “No, he came at night because you ordered him to deliver my medicine! My chronic cough flared up those few days…” Mr. Henderson’s voice remained steady and unhurried. “The medicinal herbs were indeed delivered.” “But why would a simple delivery require Mr. Davies to stay for over an hour?” My mother froze. “There was a discrepancy in the household ledger that day. I asked my maid, Clara, to find the record book, and he waited on the porch.” Vivian laughed mockingly. “The ledger? He delivers medicine and ends up helping you audit the books?” “Eleanor, if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable.” Tears welled up in Chloe’s eyes, and she let out a soft, tragic sigh. “Harper, if the eighth wife really was lonely, we could all beg Dad for leniency together.” “Stop trying to defend the indefensible.” I turned to my father. “Dad, Mr. Henderson claims Mr. Davies visited the West Wing multiple times. Who actually saw this with their own eyes?” My father didn’t answer; he just looked at Mr. Henderson. Mr. Henderson replied, “The night patrol guards, Gary and Luke, both saw him.” “Bring them in.” Vivian immediately interjected: “Arthur, isn’t the testimony of two staff members enough? Do we really need to parade this scandal in front of the entire estate?” My father raised his hand to silence her. Shortly after, the two guards were brought in. I walked up to Luke. “You claim you saw Mr. Davies going to the West Wing at night?” Luke nodded. “Yes, miss.” “Which days?” “The 6th, the 9th, and the 12th.” “What time?” “Around 10:00 PM.” I asked another question: “Which path did he take?” “The back corridor.” “And what does the back corridor pass by?” Luke hesitated for a second. “It passes by… it passes by the ninth wife’s residence, the East Wing. And further north is the eighth wife’s West Wing.” Vivian’s face instantly lost all color. “You’re lying!” I turned to my father. “If you don’t believe me, Dad, you can send someone to check right now.” “Right outside the back window of the East Wing, there’s a large crabapple tree. The branches reach right up to the window ledge. It’s the perfect spot to secretly hand things off.” Chloe interjected, her voice dripping with sweet concern: “Harper, how do you know the layout of my mother’s wing so well?” “Were you planning on framing someone else all along just to save your own mother?” What a brilliant attempt to flip the script. I stared at her and spoke slowly: “Because I live in the West Wing. We see each other every single day. It would be impossible not to know.” My father glared at me. “You’ve said a lot, but where is the proof?” I walked over to the coffee table and picked up the bottle of perfume. “This specific brand of perfume… Vivian is the only one in the entire estate who uses it.” Vivian immediately fired back: “So what if I use it? Anyone with money can buy it!” I nodded. “True.” “But the bottom of this specific bottle has the letter ‘V’ custom-engraved into the glass.” My father’s eyes turned terrifyingly cold. Vivian dropped to her knees. “Arthur! Someone stole my perfume to frame me!” Chloe quickly knelt beside her. “Dad, the maids are always in and out of the rooms. A bottle of perfume doesn’t prove anything.” “Besides… no one has even verified if Harper actually has the family birthmark yet.” 3 Chloe kept her eyes cast downward. She knew perfectly well I had the birthmark on my back. But she also knew that in a grand hall like this, forcing an unmarried young woman to expose her bare back in front of everyone was tantamount to destroying her reputation entirely. I laughed coldly in my head. “If Dad wants to see it, I will gladly show him.” As soon as the words left my mouth, all the women in the hall froze in shock. My mother grabbed my sleeve, tears instantly spilling over. “Harper, no. You can’t.” I squeezed her freezing hand. “Mom, reputation is only useful if you’re alive.” A flicker of panic flashed through Chloe’s eyes, but she quickly suppressed it. “Harper, don’t be rash.” “We all know you feel wronged, but if you strip in front of everyone, how will you ever find a respectable husband?” Vivian immediately chimed in: “Exactly! The eldest daughter shouldn’t abandon all her modesty just to avoid punishment.” “If all these men see a young lady’s bare skin, her purity is ruined!” I looked up at her. “When you were accusing my mother of sleeping around, you didn’t seem to care much about purity.” My father frowned impatiently. “If you’re going to show it, show it. Stop wasting time.” I didn’t reach for my buttons. Instead, I looked at the male staff standing behind my father. “Dad, I won’t stop you from verifying the Sterling bloodline.” “But this hall is full of men. If I take off my top today, can you control what their eyes see, and what rumors their mouths spread tomorrow?” My father’s face darkened. I continued: “If I’m not a Sterling, then naturally, you don’t need to care if I live or die.” “But what if I am?” “If you force your own biological daughter to be publicly humiliated, whose reputation is truly being dragged through the mud when the word gets out?” Those words struck his absolute deepest nerve. Arthur Sterling valued his pride and public image above all else. More than he cared about his daughters, he terrified of the Sterling family becoming the laughingstock of the city’s high society, or worse, someone recording it on their phone and posting it online. He gripped his belt tightly and ordered coldly: “All men, get out.” The security guards and male staff immediately retreated out the doors. My brothers looked displeased, but none dared defy him. The heavy oak doors were pulled shut. Chloe walked up to me, her voice soft: “Harper, do you really have to do this?” I suddenly reached out and brushed my fingers against the reddish-brown birthmark above her collarbone. She recoiled violently, as if she had been burned. “Harper!” Vivian instantly rushed over to block her. “Why are you touching Chloe?!” I replied flatly: “I just suddenly noticed something strange.” “The Sterling family birthmarks are naturally stable in color.” “But how come Chloe’s birthmark seems to be dark sometimes, and faded other times?” Vivian’s voice spiked in pitch: “You’re talking absolute nonsense!” “Chloe’s birthmark has been right there since the day she was born! The midwives all saw it!” My father stared at Chloe’s collarbone, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “Chloe, come here.” Chloe bit her lip and walked over to my father looking incredibly wronged, pulling her collar down slightly. The birthmark looked perfectly real. My father inspected it for a few seconds, then looked back at me. “Harper Sterling, who else are you going to try and frame?” I looked at my personal maid, Clara, standing behind me. She discreetly slipped a soaking wet, rough exfoliating towel into my palm. I gripped the towel tightly. “Since Dad is so suspicious of my birthmark, why don’t we take a closer look at yours first?” Vivian lunged forward to stop me. “Don’t you dare!” I backhanded her out of the way. Chloe started screaming. “Dad! Harper has lost her mind!” My father didn’t immediately intervene. I didn’t let her finish her sentence. I pressed the soaking wet, rough towel hard against her collarbone. 4 Chloe trembled in pain as I scrubbed the delicate skin of her collarbone raw, leaving bright red streaks. But a second later, my hand froze. The reddish-brown mark remained stubbornly embedded in her skin. The tiny sliver of doubt that had just sparked in my father’s eyes instantly morphed into explosive, volcanic rage. “Harper Sterling!” My mother threw herself over me, shielding me. “Arthur! Harper didn’t mean it!” “She’s just terrified! She doesn’t have any malicious intent!” Vivian scrambled up from the floor, throwing her arms around a sobbing Chloe. “Did you see that, Arthur?!” “This mother and daughter are pure evil!” “Their affair gets exposed, so they try to destroy my daughter’s birthmark!” “If you weren’t here to witness it, Chloe’s life would have been ruined by her!” Chloe leaned into Vivian’s embrace. With the skin around her collarbone scrubbed raw and bleeding slightly, the birthmark looked even more stark, making her appear tragically victimized. My mother’s eyes were bloodshot. Her frail body stood firmly between me and my father. “I can endure being humiliated, but no one is allowed to call my daughter a bastard.” “When she was born, you saw the birthmark on her back with your own eyes!” My father said coldly: “I have too many children. Do you really expect me to perfectly remember something from twenty years ago?” The last trace of color vanished from my mother’s face. I took a deep breath. “Since Dad doesn’t remember, I will let you see it again today.” I reached up and began unfastening the buttons of my blouse. I stopped looking at her, turning instead to address the women in the hall. “Ladies, didn’t you all want a show?” “Then look closely.” “Look closely and see if Harper Sterling carries the Sterling bloodline.” I turned my back and unfastened the top buttons. Even though outside these walls there were skyscrapers and electric cars navigating the modern city, inside the Sterling estate, archaic rules still reigned supreme. A young woman’s bare shoulders and back were never meant to be casually exposed. A few of my younger half-sisters gasped and covered their mouths. The third wife whispered, “This poor girl, she’s really been pushed to the edge.” The seventh wife fanned herself gently, a trace of pity in her eyes. “Eleanor, stop trying to stop her.” “In this world, if a woman isn’t ruthless enough to protect herself, she’ll just be torn to pieces by others.” My mother’s grip slowly loosened. She wept silently. I slipped off my blouse, leaving only a thin camisole, and pulled the fabric down, exposing my shoulder blades. The cold AC air hit my bare back. I heard a collective gasp ripple through the hall. “It’s there!” “There really is a birthmark!” “Right under her left shoulder blade.” I straightened my spine. That reddish-brown mark had been on my back since the day I took my first breath. My father narrowed his eyes and slowly walked closer. He pressed his thumb against my back. His skin was rough and freezing cold. I swallowed my disgust and didn’t pull away. He examined it for a long time, his rigid expression finally seeming to crack. Vivian’s face looked sickly. Suddenly, Chloe spoke up softly: “Dad.” “Doesn’t the color of Harper’s birthmark look a little too… fresh?” My spine instantly went rigid. Wiping her tears, Chloe’s voice was cautious and fragile. “I’m not doubting Harper.” “It’s just… a few weeks ago, Harper left the estate for the day. When she came back, she claimed she was sick and locked herself in her room, refusing to see anyone for days.” “Nowadays, there are all these new cosmetic tattoo parlors in the city. They can inject pigment straight into the skin, and it won’t fade for years.”

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The trash I asked Ethan to take out three days ago is still sitting in the kitchen. It smells like rotting death, and fruit flies are swarming it. That’s when I knew—it was time for a divorce. That night, I slid the drafted divorce papers across the table to him. He looked up from his laptop, staring at me with a gaze that thought it could see right through me. “The day before yesterday, I was helping Chloe fix her data analysis. Her coding is weak, and I’m the only one she can ask.” “Yesterday, she got followed walking home alone, and she was crying, begging me to just drop her off once.” “Today, she had a massive error in her report, and the deadline was in three hours. She’s on my team. I couldn’t just leave her hanging.” “I know you’ve always had a problem with her. I can show you my phone, or even pull the office security footage to prove nothing happened.” “As for the trash, I honestly just forgot. Look, I’ve explained everything. If you still want to get a divorce, I’ll sign.” I looked at him calmly. Over these three days, he had done a lot for Chloe. A man who was usually militant about his sleep schedule had stayed up late for three days straight just for her. Yet he forgot three times to take the trash out on his way to work. I nodded. “Let’s just get the divorce.” Chapter 1 I waited at the county courthouse until the clerk’s office closed. Ethan never showed up. He didn’t get home until 11:00 PM. Seeing me sitting on the couch, he didn’t say a word and walked straight to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. “I called you thirteen times,” I said. “You didn’t answer.” He paused mid-sip, pulled out his phone, and looked at it with a blank expression. “My phone died during meetings today. I never turned it back on. What’s up?” His tone was incredibly flat, like he was commenting on the weather. I knew it. He had forgotten our appointment again. He was always so forgetful. Over our seven years of marriage, this had happened countless times. Small things, like asking him to bring in the patio cushions before it rained, or tossing the trash on his way down. Big things, like when I was three months pregnant. The ultrasound was bad. The doctor said the baby wasn’t viable. We agreed on a time to go to the hospital for the D&C procedure. The surgery finished. I woke up. He still wasn’t there. I only found out later. That day was Chloe’s first time leading a major project pitch, and she was nervous. He promised her he would be in the room to back her up. That was the very first time I realized how little weight I carried in Ethan’s heart. The realization was like a plastic toy knife dragging hard across my chest—it stung, but it didn’t hit bone. I pulled myself out of my memories and kindly explained. “We were supposed to go to the courthouse today to file the papers.” “Tomorrow is the weekend, so I made a new appointment for Monday morning.” Ethan kept his eyes glued to his lit-up phone screen. He didn’t look at me. “Fine. See you at the courthouse on Monday.” I nodded. Monday. Ethan and I signed the divorce papers. After the mandatory 30-day waiting period, we would just need to make one more trip to finalize the decree. After signing his name, Ethan kept his head down, his fingers flying across his phone keyboard, replying to someone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. A contact with a pink anime avatar had sent him a string of crying emojis. We walked out of the courthouse doors. “I have things to do at the office,” Ethan said. “I’m not going to drop you…” I nodded and pointed at the Uber pulling up. “My ride is here. You go do your thing.” The Uber parked right next to his car. I opened the door and got in. I didn’t look back at Ethan standing outside. Chapter 2 I told my best friend, Lily, about the divorce. I asked her to keep an eye out for any decent apartments. My hometown was in the Midwest, over a thousand miles away from Seattle. I had sold my old house back there years ago to pay for my dad’s medical bills. The house Ethan and I lived in was bought by him, and the deed was entirely in his name. Since we were getting divorced, I had to move out. I had nowhere to go. Lily quickly found three solid apartment options for me. Just as we were about to jump on a FaceTime call to do a virtual tour, I got a text from Ethan. [Thai basil chicken and coconut soup.] [Come over early. I have a meeting at 1:30 PM.] I stared at the two messages, then calmly swiped to delete them. Ethan worked in a high-stress corporate environment. He never ate on time, and his diet was garbage. After he collapsed and was hospitalized for severe stomach ulcers, I started obsessively researching stomach-friendly recipes online. From that day on, I cooked and delivered lunch to his office every single day. Whatever I made, he ate. He almost never complained. I kept this up for three years, and his stomach issues never flared up again. But six months ago, he suddenly started requesting specific dishes. I thought he was just getting bored of the bland, stomach-soothing meals, so I started putting extra effort into tweaking the recipes. Until that one time. I saw the texts between him and Chloe on his phone. [Chloe: Hey, what’s Mia making for lunch today?] [Chloe: Ugh, steamed veggies again? I hate steamed food.] [Chloe: Tell Mia to stop making steamed stuff next time. I want something pan-fried.] [Chloe: Mia is such a good house-wife. I can’t cook to save my life. You’re so lucky to have her.] Ethan replied: [You’re different from her. Don’t sell yourself short.] [One is a shark in the corporate world, the other is a stay-at-home wife. There’s no comparison.] [A person can’t be completely useless. Staying at home, this is all she’s good for.] Seeing those messages broke my heart. So I asked Ethan about it directly. He was surprised I looked at his messages, but he wasn’t mad. He just answered me calmly and casually. “Oh. Chloe has a sensitive stomach, so she can’t eat takeout all the time. The food you make is perfect for her, and it’s healthy. It’s a win-win.” His flippant tone felt like a sledgehammer smashing my warm, beating heart to pieces. I was sweating in the kitchen, constantly studying recipes in my free time. My carefully prepared meals, all my hard work and devotion… It all just became a joke to comfort another woman’s ego. And it wasn’t like I didn’t have a job. I was a freelance translator. The foreign language dictionaries I used every day were sitting right there on the bookshelf. He just never cared enough to notice. After finalizing an apartment I liked, I felt a massive weight lift off my shoulders. Lily told me that when I moved back, she was going to make me buy her an expensive dinner. I happily agreed. When Ethan called, I was dozing off on the couch. “Mia, did you not see my texts?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to wake up. “I saw them. What’s wrong?” The man on the other end suddenly went silent. A moment later, I heard him say, “I haven’t eaten lunch yet.” “You can order DoorDash.” “Didn’t you always hate it when I ate takeout?” His tone sounded genuinely confused. I sighed, feeling a wave of exhaustion. “Cooking for you wasn’t a legal obligation. I did it because I cared about your health. It was voluntary.” “But Ethan… we signed divorce papers a week ago.” Chapter 3 After Ethan hung up, I went back to my room and slept until it was dark. The moment I walked out of my bedroom, I saw Chloe supporting Ethan as they walked through the front door. His pant leg was torn. He must have fallen. Chloe followed right behind him, her eyes red, urgently nagging him. “Ethan, slow down! Your leg is still hurt!” The second she saw me, Chloe puffed out her cheeks and immediately started whining. “Mia, you need to talk some sense into Ethan! We had a client dinner today, and the client wanted me to take a shot with him, but Ethan absolutely refused to let me drink. When we were leaving, the client bumped into him on purpose and he fell down the stairs and scraped his leg!” “It’s just one shot, it’s not like I can’t handle my liquor! Why did he have to play the hero?” Chloe told me to “talk some sense” into him, but the smirk on her face was glaringly obvious. Her fake outrage was painfully theatrical. So I didn’t say a single word. I just nodded and turned back to my room. Having lived in this house for five years, there was a lot I needed to pack. From the living room, Chloe’s laughter echoed intermittently. A while later, someone knocked on the door. I got up and opened it. Ethan was leaning heavily against the doorframe. “Where’s the first aid kit?” He pulled up his pant leg, revealing a bloody scrape. I glanced at it, then looked back up, genuinely confused. “The first aid kit? Didn’t you give it to Chloe?” Three months ago, Chloe bought an e-bike, claiming it would make commuting easier. She crashed it on her very first day. Ethan got the call and immediately abandoned my birthday dinner to go find her. Later that week, I burned my hand while cooking. I couldn’t find the first aid kit, so I called Ethan. Chloe answered his phone. “The first aid kit?” “Hey Mia! Yeah, I crashed my bike, so Ethan brought the first aid kit to my place. Can you just tough it out for a bit? I’ll have him bring it back to you tonight.” Ethan’s usually stoic face finally showed a crack of emotion. He clearly remembered now. “I forgot.” I smiled and nodded in agreement. “You really do have a terrible memory.” The day Chloe answered that phone call, I was furious. When Ethan got home, I confronted him. I asked him why he was giving our household items to other people. He didn’t even look me in the eye. His gaze remained locked on his laptop screen as he typed. “It’s just a first aid kit.” “It sits in the house all year and no one ever touches it. I gave it to her, so what?” But that first aid kit… I checked the expiration dates on the medicines every single month and restocked them. Every single item inside was carefully curated by me. It was a symbol of my dedication to protecting this household. And he gave it away like it was nothing. Just like every meal I poured my heart into making—with a wave of his hand, it became someone else’s lunch. “You can order bandages on UberEats,” I reminded him. “If there’s nothing else, I have to get back to packing.” With that, I closed the door, completely ignoring the people outside. Ethan stared blankly at the tightly shut door. For some reason, his chest suddenly felt a little hollow. Chapter 4 The days passed one by one. I shipped the things I had packed back to my hometown, box by box. This house, where I had lived for five years, slowly began to empty out. It felt like peeling away the physical vessel of all my memories, piece by piece. I thought the remaining days would pass by quietly. But suddenly, Ethan changed. He started acting like a devoted partner. Someone who used to be obsessed with working overtime was suddenly clocking out precisely at 5:00 PM every day. A person who never cared about my needs started buying me breakfast and bringing home late-night snacks. Confused, I asked him what he was trying to do. Ethan, rarely ever caught off guard, hesitated for a long time before answering. “My mom called. She wants us to come over for a family dinner.” I hesitated for a moment, but eventually agreed. My parents passed away when I was young. After marrying Ethan, it was the first time I felt what it was like to be loved by parental figures. Since we were getting divorced, it was only right to see them one last time. It was raining heavily on the day we went to the restaurant. His parents had already ordered the food. More than half the dishes on the table were my favorites. Ethan’s mom used the serving tongs to place a piece of roast duck onto my plate. Smiling brightly, she chatted about how the neighbor’s daughter-in-law just had her second baby. Then, the conversation abruptly pivoted to me. “When are you two going to think about having a baby?” “You should do it while we still have the energy to help you babysit!” In the past, I probably would have smiled warmly and said we weren’t in a rush. But this time, I didn’t say anything. I just kept my head down and ate the duck. The table went dead silent for ten agonizing seconds. His parents exchanged confused looks. Ethan grabbed my left hand, which was resting on the table, his tone absolute. “Soon.” His parents immediately beamed. I pulled my hand out of his. Ethan was too focused on his phone to notice. After dinner, Ethan’s mom pulled me aside to chat. Ethan’s phone rang several times, but he didn’t answer. His mom finally nudged him. “It’s so loud! Can’t you see I’m talking to Mia?” Ethan glanced at me. “It’s work. I need to take this.” By the time the table was cleared, Ethan still hadn’t returned. I called him. He didn’t answer. His parents called him. Still no answer. Staring out at the torrential downpour, my mind drifted back to a day exactly like this. I was walking past Ethan’s office building when a massive thunderstorm broke out. I couldn’t get an Uber to accept my ride. I waited until Ethan got off work and called him. The moment the call connected. I saw his familiar car parked just down the street. I saw Ethan in the driver’s seat, and Chloe in the passenger seat. Ethan asked me what was up. I told him it was pouring rain and asked if he could swing by and pick me up since I was close by. He replied: “Just keep trying to get an Uber. I have to work late tonight.” Right as he said that, the girl next to him reached out, offering him a potato chip. Covering the phone’s mouthpiece, he turned his head to decline, but eventually gave in and ate it. He lied so flawlessly, so naturally, that I honestly thought I was looking at the wrong car. I spent dozens of sleepless nights replaying that moment in my head. Later, I finally understood. He didn’t love me, so he didn’t care. Just like how he didn’t like potato chips, but he wouldn’t reject one when she held it to his lips. Just like how he didn’t like potato chips, but if the pasta I cooked for him got cold and soggy, he wouldn’t even take a single bite. The rain finally stopped. I hailed a cab and dropped his parents off at their house. In the middle of the night, I heard the front door open. Ethan was back. He was on the phone, his voice carrying through the apartment. Through the wall, I heard him let out an exasperated sigh and say the name: Chloe. When I woke up. I had over a dozen missed calls from Chloe. There were also unread text messages from her. [Mia, Ethan and I have strictly professional boundaries! Please tell him not to transfer me to another department!] [He said you misunderstood and want a divorce. I swear I didn’t do anything on purpose! I’ll keep my distance from now on, just please don’t let him fire me!] I stared at the messages, completely baffled. I didn’t reply and placed my phone face-down on the nightstand. I was packing the last few items of clothing left in the guest room. Ethan pushed the door open, sounding frantic. “Mia, what did you say to Chloe?!” “She said she was going to explain everything to you, and now she’s gone! I can’t reach her at all!” “What exactly did you say to her?!” His chest heaved violently. He stared at me, unblinking. Ethan was always so reserved and composed. He rarely ever showed extreme emotion. Yet all his outward panic was for another woman. I opened my text thread with Chloe and shoved the screen in his face. “I don’t know what happened between you two last night, or why I’m being dragged into it.” “When she sent these texts, I was asleep. And frankly, I don’t feel obligated to reply to her.” Ethan opened his mouth to speak, but his phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, he instantly answered. The panic on his face turned to joy, then back to panic. “Come back first! We’ll talk about the rest later!” “Are the guys your parents trying to set you up with actually good guys? Come back!” “Then just come stay here!” “It’s a two-bedroom apartment. It’s just me and my wife.” As he said that, he glanced at me and turned on the speakerphone, holding it out to me. Chloe’s sobbing voice echoed loudly in the room. “Mia… I’m so sorry, I’m going to have to intrude…” “I canceled my lease because I was going to move back to my hometown. But Ethan wants me to stay, and I can’t find an apartment on such short notice. Can I stay with you guys for a little while?” “I swear I’ll move out the second I find a place. Please.” Meeting Ethan’s heavily suggestive gaze, my fingertips felt a little cold, but I also had the urge to laugh. “It’s fine. You’re welcome to stay.” On the other end of the line, Chloe cheered in excitement. Ethan gave Chloe some careful instructions. “Wait for me at the airport. I’m heading there now.” He hung up the phone and looked at me. “I’m going to pick Chloe up. Tidy up the guest bedroom for her while I’m gone.” I reminded him. “Can Chloe take an Uber? There’s somewhere we need to go together today.” Ethan frowned. “I already promised her. I can’t just go back on my word.” “It’s only a three-hour round trip. Whatever you need to do, it can wait until I get back.” “Okay.” “I’m leaving.” He rushed out the door. He completely failed to notice the small duffel bag sitting next to me. I waited for Ethan for three hours. He didn’t come back. I checked my phone and saw a post Chloe made on Instagram ten minutes ago. [I was so sad today, but Ethan is taking me to the amusement park!! What girl can say no to a theme park? I definitely can’t! ~] I liked the post. I stood up. Grabbed the duffel bag holding my last set of clothes. And walked out of the house I had lived in for five years. After walking out of the courthouse, I texted Ethan a photo of the final divorce decree and headed straight to the airport. Seven hours later, I landed in my hometown. I climbed into my friend’s car, who had been waiting for me. As I listened to her ramble on about how much the city architecture had changed, I turned on my phone. Notifications flooded my screen like a tsunami.

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The first time I felt the baby kick, I was so overwhelmed with joy that I recorded a five-second video and sent it to my husband, Carter Vance. But his childhood best friend, Hailey, who suffered from severe tokophobia (the fear of pregnancy), accidentally saw it. That night, driven by extreme panic, she attempted suicide by slitting her wrists. Furious, Carter walked into my mother’s hospital room and pulled her oxygen mask off for five seconds. “I warned you! Why did you send me a video like that?!” “You like recording fetal movements, do you?” “I’ll give you something to record!” For five seconds, my mother’s face turned ashen, the EKG monitor nearly flatlining. Tears streaming down my face, I dropped to my knees, begging and promising over and over that I would never send another video. Carter coldly rejected my pleas. He forced me to wear a 24-hour fetal movement monitor. “From now on, for every second your baby moves, I will have someone pull your mother’s oxygen mask for the exact same amount of time.” “Until Hailey wakes up from her coma!” For an entire month, I walked on eggshells, desperately trying to keep my baby still. But you can’t stop a baby from moving. After watching my mother’s oxygen mask ripped off for the sixth time, my tears ran completely dry. I didn’t try to stop Carter anymore. I just pulled out my phone and booked an abortion. If he wanted the fetal movements to stop completely, terminating the pregnancy was the only way, wasn’t it? Beep… Beep-beep-beep…! In the hospital room, my mother’s oxygen mask was removed for the sixth time. This time, for exactly seventeen seconds. Watching the heartbeat monitor slowly flatline, my mind went completely blank with terror. “Enough!” “Carter, time is up!” “The baby only moved for seventeen seconds last night!” Sobbing uncontrollably, I scrambled forward to put my mother’s mask back on. But Carter’s eyes were like ice. “It was twenty-five seconds.” “Chloe, you secretly took the monitor off for eight seconds last night.” Delivering the words with chilling indifference, Carter tapped his index finger against his Rolex. Tap. Tap. Until an agonizing eight seconds had passed. He finally signaled his men to let me go. “Chloe, I do not want to see you sneaking that monitor off again.” “This is your final warning.” My ears were ringing. With trembling fingers, I strapped the oxygen mask back over my mother’s face. My eyes were glued to the EKG monitor. One second… Five seconds… The heartbeat rhythm slowly normalized. My legs gave out, and I slumped against the wall to keep from collapsing. Over the last month, I had tried countless ways to stop the baby from kicking. But it still happened six times. And my mother’s oxygen mask had been removed exactly six times. Every time I put it back on her, I was terrified I had lost her forever. My heart had been shredded and stitched back together over and over again. I was physically and mentally shattered. This time it was twenty-five seconds. What about next time? My head buzzing, I opened my phone and looked at a forum post I had made days ago. [How can I stop my baby from moving in the womb?] A random user had left a mocking reply. [You want to be pregnant but you don’t want the baby to kick?] [Then why are you even having a baby?] [Just abort it. Then it’ll never move again!] They were right. If I just aborted the baby, the kicking would stop forever. Resting my hand gently on my swollen belly, in a daze, I saw the Carter from the day we found out I was pregnant. He had held my stomach, his eyes shining like stars, asking me over and over again to confirm it. “Chloe, am I really going to be a dad?” “I’m actually going to be a dad?!” That day, he bought dozens of parenting books and followed countless maternal health accounts online. He even created a group chat called [Chloe’s Pregnancy Journey]. He pinned that group chat to the very top of his phone, above all his crucial corporate threads. Every time I sent an update about the baby, he replied instantly. Chapter 2 Time and time again, I slowly let go of my anxieties about being pregnant. Until his childhood best friend, Hailey, returned from abroad. When she saw my slightly swollen belly, she started trembling violently, collapsing into a panic attack. Without a word, Carter ripped his jacket off and threw it directly over my stomach. “Cover it up!” That “cover-up” lasted for three months. Whenever Hailey was around, I was forced to hide in corners where she couldn’t see me. I confronted him. I screamed at him. The response I got was always the same. “She has severe tokophobia. Why are you picking fights with her?” “Her condition is a lifelong illness. Your pregnancy is only a few months. Just deal with it.” The words died in my throat. The pain and grievance spun around me like a spiderweb, suffocating me tighter every day. “Chloe. Did you hear what I said?” Carter’s freezing voice snapped me back to reality. I pulled out my phone and finalized the appointment for the abortion. “Carter. The baby won’t move anymore.” “What did you say?” He frowned, looking down at me as I lowered my phone. “If you’re done throwing your fit, go home.” “I need to assist the doctor with Hailey’s therapy.” Without another word, Carter turned on his heel and strode away. I dragged my feet, walking alone to the obstetrics department for the surgery. Two hours later, the procedure was over. I have a natural resistance to anesthesia. The nurse escorted me to the recovery room, still wincing. “Ms. Vance, if the pain becomes unbearable, please take the painkillers immediately.” “Otherwise, you risk going into pain-induced shock.” The nurse handed me a cup of warm water and left. Fighting through the agonizing cramps, I managed to force the pills down. Before the pain even began to subside, my phone suddenly buzzed. [Hey Chloe, wanna see how Carter is ‘treating’ Hailey?] It was an anonymous text. I frowned and was about to lock my screen. Suddenly, one of Carter’s frat brothers flooded my phone with dozens of photos and videos. Blindingly explicit, intimate photos filled my screen. My entire body went rigid. [Chloe, Carter’s ‘therapy’ is basically just one step away from them sleeping together!] [The doctor said this is the fastest way to wake Hailey from her coma.] [Don’t blame Carter. You brought this on yourself!] My mind went completely blank. It felt like a jagged saw was violently ripping through my abdomen. My fingers trembled, my eyes burning as I scrolled through the endless stream of media. Carter was helping the doctor with Hailey’s “therapy.” I always knew he was. But I never imagined it would be this utterly sickening. My finger paused on one specific photo. Carter was leaning down, tenderly kissing Hailey’s neck. My vision went black. When it finally cleared, three words popped into my head. [Chloe’s Pregnancy Journey] That group chat had been pinned to the top of my messages for months. But Carter had unpinned his a long time ago. The chat he had created with such excitement was now buried under a mountain of corporate threads. His new pinned chat was [Hailey’s Therapy Updates]. I pulled out my phone, snapped a picture of my abortion discharge papers, and sent it directly into the pregnancy group chat. As expected, dead silence. I unpinned the chat, stood up, and walked out of the recovery room. When I got home, Carter wasn’t there. I lay in our bed and slept the deepest, most peaceful sleep I’d had in months. I didn’t have to worry about the baby kicking anymore. I didn’t have to worry about accidentally triggering the monitor. The next day, Carter returned with his bodyguards. His expression was as cold as ever. “Chloe, it’s time to review yesterday’s fetal movement logs.” He didn’t waste a single word. He simply gestured for the doctor to step forward. Chapter 3 The fetal movement monitor was removed from my chest, and the doctor began downloading the data. I looked at Carter’s icy face and finally spoke. “Carter, what exactly does this ‘therapy’ you’re doing for Hailey entail?” “What kind of treatment absolutely requires you, a married man, to perform it on her alone?” My throat was raw and dry. I waited quietly for his answer. Carter frowned, opening his mouth to speak. Suddenly, the doctor gasped in shock. “Mr. Sterling! Your wife’s baby moved nine times yesterday?!” Nine times? I froze. I had the abortion first thing yesterday morning. How could there be fetal movement? “The data has to be wrong…” I started to say anxiously. Before I could finish, Carter’s brow furrowed tightly. “Chloe, you broke the rules, and now you have to accept the punishment!” “We agreed. For every second the baby moves, your mother’s oxygen gets pulled for a second.” “Nine times. Totaling two minutes and twenty-three seconds.” “Do you want it pulled all at once, or in intervals?” He was as cold and unfeeling as a block of ice. I stared at him in utter disbelief. His phone suddenly rang. “Carter! Hailey’s condition just tanked! You need to get to the hospital right now!” The moment the voice on the other end spoke, Carter’s expression darkened, his voice laced with fury. “Make sure my wife completes her punishment. Record it and send me the video!” With that, he turned and marched toward the door. The shock hadn’t even faded from my eyes. I panicked, grabbing his arm to explain. “Carter, our baby is already ab—” “Chloe, stop making excuses!” “The way you’re acting right now genuinely disgusts me!” The words died in my throat, cut off by the intense revulsion and disappointment burning in his eyes. My brain buzzed with static for several seconds. My fingers twitched uncontrollably. It felt like I was drowning in the deep ocean, water flooding my nose and mouth. I couldn’t breathe. Outside the mansion, the roar of his sports car speeding away echoed. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. “Ma’am, it’s time to go to the hospital!” The bodyguard’s emotionless voice sounded. They practically dragged me to the hospital. Standing in the hospital room once again, my eyes were numb with despair. The person lying in that bed should have been me. When the car crash happened, in that split second, my mother used every ounce of her strength to shield me. Covered in blood, her final words before she lost consciousness were: “Thank God my Chloe is safe…” Carter used to hold me, swearing over and over again that he would spare no expense to save her. And now, it had only been a year… Tears spilled onto the floor. With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and texted Carter. [I am begging you, please don’t pull my mom’s oxygen mask again.] [Carter, it’s all my fault. I never should have sent you that video.] [You can punish me however you want…] [I’m begging you. She’s all I have left…] I sent dozens of texts. Every single one sank like a stone in the ocean. I stared at the screen, refreshing it over and over. Carter never replied. “Ma’am, we’re starting.” The bodyguard held up his phone to record, while his other hand reached to pull off my mother’s oxygen mask. I lunged forward to stop him. But I was brutally pinned to the ground by the other guards. Once. Twice. … Seven times. My mother’s oxygen mask was removed a total of seven times. Each interval was longer than the last. My tears ran dry. My throat was bleeding from screaming so hard. Two minutes and twenty-three seconds. It was finally over. The guards let me go. I scrambled forward in a panic and strapped the oxygen mask back onto my mother’s face. My eyes were locked onto the EKG monitor. One second. Three seconds. Ten seconds. The EKG line remained perfectly, terrifyingly flat. Chapter 4 “Doctor!” “Save my mom!” “Please, I’m begging you, save my mom…” The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I clung to the doctor’s arm in sheer terror, begging. They shocked my mother with the defibrillator again and again. The EKG line remained completely flat. “Ma’am, we did everything we could…” “I’m so sorry for your loss.” The doctor’s words buzzed in my ears like a swarm of hornets. I stared blankly at my mother’s face, completely paralyzed. Suddenly, vibrant fireworks exploded in the sky outside the window. BANG! POP-POP-POP! The fireworks lit up the night sky in quick succession. I looked up and saw massive, glowing letters spelling out a message. [CELEBRATING HAILEY’S AWAKENING!] Hailey was awake? My frozen thoughts slowly began to turn. I pulled out my phone. Five minutes ago, Hailey had posted a new update on her Instagram. [A month in a coma, but so incredibly grateful someone never left my side!] The attached photo showed Carter on one knee, gently putting a pair of socks on her feet. The tender, loving look in his eyes was so foreign it made me dizzy. So, his gentleness hadn’t disappeared. He just gave it all to Hailey. So, Hailey had already woken up. He just deliberately ignored my texts begging for my mother’s life. The last remaining string in my mind completely snapped. I put my phone away and walked, step by slow step, to Hailey’s hospital room. “Carter, thank you so much for everything this month.” “I heard that to help me wake up, you even did that ‘special therapy’…” Hailey’s shy, coquettish voice drifted through the door. My hand froze on the doorknob. “Don’t worry, I’m not bringing it up to force you to take responsibility for me.” “I’m just afraid that my being here will cause misunderstandings with Chloe.” “Now that I’m awake, I’m planning to move back to the States…” Just as Hailey’s tearful, disappointed act finished, Carter suddenly interrupted her. “Why do you have to leave?” “Chloe’s baby is due in five months.” “As soon as this baby is born, I’m getting a vasectomy.” Through the crack in the door, I heard Carter making a solemn, deliberate promise. This was the man who once swore he wanted to have two kids with me, a boy and a girl. And now, for Hailey’s sake, he was going to sterilize himself. A twisted, ugly smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. I shoved the door wide open. “Carter, you don’t need a vasectomy.” “Because our baby is already abor—” Before I could finish the sentence, Carter shot up from his chair. He grabbed his dirty jacket off the table and violently threw it directly at my stomach. “Chloe!” “Are you trying to give Hailey another panic attack by flaunting your pregnant belly?!” “Cover it up right now!” My body went completely rigid. I stopped walking for a few seconds. Then, stepping right over the jacket on the floor, I walked closer. “Chloe!” “I said cover your stomach right now!” “This is your final warning!” Standing protectively in front of Hailey, Carter’s eyes were terrifyingly cold. Seeing that I didn’t stop, his brow furrowed in deep annoyance. His eyes were filled with exhaustion and profound disappointment. “Chloe, please stop being so utterly irrational.” “Hailey and I are completely platonic.” “Our bond isn’t the filthy, romantic garbage you have in your head!” Delivering his icy verdict, Carter pulled out his phone, ready to call his security guards. I spoke, my voice shredded and raw. “Carter. I want a divorce.” “A divorce?!” “Chloe, say that again!” His jaw locked tight, and Carter froze in absolute shock. “You are the one who fucked up, and you have the audacity to ask ME for a divorce?!” He practically roared the words. His emotions spiraling out of control, Carter took large, aggressive strides until he was standing right in front of me.

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Chapter 1 Once I hooked up with one of the most powerful billionaires in New York, I played the “perfect, devoted girlfriend” role to the absolute limit. When Ethan Sterling was messing around with Instagram models, I was the one who personally drove them to the clinic for STI testing. When Ethan was cornered by paparazzi outside a luxury hotel, I was the one working the phones, paying off media outlets to bury the story. Even when his new flavor of the month showed up at my front door to provoke me. I could smile and politely brief her on his daily habits and dietary preferences. Everyone in our elite circle said I loved Ethan so much I had completely lost my self-respect. They said I would do absolutely anything just to stay by his side. But what they didn’t know was that I was the one who intentionally hired Chloe Thorne to catch his eye. And they definitely didn’t know just how generous Ethan was whenever he felt guilty about cheating. A medical bill? Fifty thousand. A PR crisis? Two million. And the endless stream of jewelry and designer bags he showered me with as “compensation” was incalculable. Over the years, not only had I amassed a nine-figure bank account. I also owned multiple high-end properties around the world. After ten years of playing the ultimate sugar baby, I could finally officially retire! When Ethan proposed to Chloe, I was curled up on the sofa in my Bel Air mansion, binge-watching Netflix. Ethan had transferred the deed of this mansion to me not too long ago. It was my compensation for the time Chloe pushed me down a flight of stairs, causing me to miscarry his child. I tore open a bag of Doritos. My phone screen lit up constantly as notifications from our mutual friend group chat flooded in. “Ethan is really going all out for Chloe.” “The wedding of the century. Even Mia didn’t get this kind of treatment back in the day.” “Looks like Ethan finally found his true love.” “Chloe bullied Mia so relentlessly, and Ethan didn’t even say a single harsh word to her.” “Do you think Mia is going to get thrown out on the street? She loves Ethan so much, if he dumps her, she’ll probably just jump off a building.” The potato chip crunched loudly in my mouth. Savoring the absolute satisfaction of high-calorie junk food, I couldn’t help but smile. I was about to keep reading the gossip when the front door suddenly swung open. Ethan walked in. He glanced at the bag of chips in my hand, his brow furrowing deeply. “Mia, you know I hate the smell of junk food.” As a top-tier sugar baby, providing emotional support and maintaining a flawless figure were basic job requirements. I instantly slipped into my ‘understanding girlfriend’ persona, answering with sweet obedience. “I know.” “I just didn’t think you were coming back tonight…” Ethan’s footsteps halted. His expression softened significantly. “I just came back to grab the keys to the old estate.” “Your body hasn’t fully recovered yet. Stop eating that garbage.” “Chloe needs Maria to take care of her full-time now. I’ll transfer some money so you can hire a new housekeeper.” After sending the money, he walked over to the wall safe and punched in the code. Besides the keys, he also pulled out the Sterling family’s heirloom diamond necklace. Before his mother passed away, her dying wish was that the necklace be given to the true matriarch of the Sterling family. It seemed Ethan had finally made his choice. I felt a twinge of regret over losing the diamonds, but I still forced a perfectly understanding smile. “There’s no need for more money, Ethan.” “You’ve given me more than enough over the years.” Ethan froze for a second. “What did you just call me?” I lowered my eyes, refusing to say another word. He sighed, walking over and gently stroking my cheek. “Mia, don’t overthink things.” “You’ve been with me for so long. I would never mistreat you.” His touch was gentle. But the moment his thumb brushed against the faint, almost invisible crow’s feet forming at the corner of my eye… He quietly pulled his hand back. “I’m taking Chloe to stay at the old estate for a few days, so I won’t be coming around for a while.” “Take care of yourself.” The old estate? I raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. I knew Ethan was infatuated with Chloe. But I had no idea their relationship had reached that level. Chapter 2 After all, the old estate was the one place Ethan absolutely refused to touch. It was his ultimate psychological taboo. The women in our social circle always mocked me, saying I couldn’t survive without Ethan. Honestly, they were absolutely right. They were trust-fund babies born with silver spoons in their mouths. Even if they got dumped, they had massive family conglomerates backing them up. But I had nothing. I was just an impoverished student whose tuition was paid for by the Sterling Family Charity Foundation. When I was eighteen, I got accepted into an Ivy League university with top honors, and was invited to the Sterling estate for a celebratory dinner. That was the exact same day Ethan’s mother—the most envied society wife in New York—threw herself off the roof of the mansion, unable to endure the relentless humiliation from her husband’s mistresses. A human body plummeting from that height. Ethan and I were completely covered in her blood. Because of that day, Ethan developed severe, crippling PTSD. He was terrified of the color red, and the sound of heavy objects hitting the ground would send him into violent panic attacks. Every single night, the moment he closed his eyes, he dreamed of his mother lying in a pool of blood right in front of him. He smashed every mirror in his bedroom, and he absolutely refused to ever set foot in the old estate again. Ethan’s grandfather hired the best psychiatrists in the world, but nothing worked. Finally, he came to me, begging. “Mia, you’re the only person who can calm him down when you’re by his side.” “I’m asking you to stay. Please, keep him company.” Perhaps it was because we shared the exact same, horrific nightmare. Ethan trusted me implicitly. He silently allowed me to stay by his side. My heart ached for this pale, shattered, fragile boy. And I was deeply grateful for everything the Sterling family had done for my education. I wanted to do whatever I could to help him. When Ethan couldn’t sleep, I sat on the edge of his bed, staying awake with him all night. When Ethan couldn’t eat, I studied recipes and cooked every single meal for him. When he woke up screaming in the middle of the night, I held his hand and sat with him until the sun came up. In those early years, there was no Chloe. There were no corporate power plays, no financial calculations. There was only him and me. Like two wounded animals trapped in the dark. Holding onto each other, surviving together. I knew my background meant I would never be accepted as his legal wife. But. When Ethan’s fingers brushed through my hair… When our lips met, and he whispered that he loved me… When he spent millions of dollars to fill an entire city block with my favorite flowers… I couldn’t stop a tiny, foolish spark of hope from blooming in my heart. That hope lasted exactly until my 25th birthday. We were laying in bed after making love. Ethan reached out and casually pinched the tiny bit of soft flesh on my waist. Leaning against the headboard, he let out a quiet, mocking laugh. “Mia, you’ve gained weight.” “If you don’t start managing your figure better, you might not get your allowance next month.” My brain exploded with a deafening buzz. In a single second, I plummeted from heaven straight into hell. It was in that exact moment I violently woke up to the truth. No matter how well Ethan treated me. No matter how deeply I loved him. In his eyes, I was nothing but a commodity. An unpresentable, high-priced escort. He was never going to fall in love with someone like me. And he was never going to truly commit to me. But I also knew Ethan would never just let me go. He was born arrogant and possessive. Even if he didn’t want a toy anymore, he would never allow anyone else to play with it. I refused to drown in a toxic relationship with no future. I needed to secure an exit strategy before he got completely sick of me and threw me out with nothing. That was exactly when Chloe Thorne caught my eye. She was bright, lively, and instantly captivated Ethan’s attention. I intentionally leaked information to her, helping her mold herself into the exact type of woman Ethan was obsessed with. Chapter 3 And just like that, the two of them slowly drifted together. But Chloe wasn’t satisfied just being the side piece. She wanted to destroy me, take my place, and become the undisputed Mrs. Sterling. So, she went out of her way to torment me. And the more she bullied me, the guiltier Ethan felt. The guiltier Ethan felt, the more money he threw at me as compensation. He threw so much money at me that I could permanently retire from the sugar baby industry long before my looks faded. My phone screen lit up. Another massive compensation wire transfer had just cleared. I stared at that long string of zeros. Any lingering bitterness or jealousy in my chest was instantly wiped clean. This arrangement was perfect. She got the love. I got the money. Everyone got exactly what they wanted. Win-win. After Ethan left, I started auditing my global assets. Thirty million dollars in liquid cash. More than enough to live in absolute luxury for the rest of my life. Once everything was verified, I booked a one-way first-class ticket to Switzerland. The flight was scheduled for exactly three days from now. All I had to do was tie up a few loose ends, and I would finally be free. Just as I finalized my itinerary, Ethan called. I panicked for a second, terrified he had found out about my escape plan. Instead, his voice came through the speaker, issuing a non-negotiable command. “Come to the old estate.” “Chloe hasn’t had much of an appetite lately, and she’s craving that fish stew you make.” I let out a massive sigh of relief. Without a word of complaint, I changed my clothes and drove straight to the estate. The Sterling estate hadn’t been this lively in years. The massive driveway was packed with luxury cars. Ethan’s grandfather’s booming laughter echoed through the halls, impossible to hide. “Wonderful, wonderful! The Sterling family finally has an heir!” “You’ve been a playboy your whole life, Ethan, but it looks like you’re finally settling down.” Chloe sat in the center of the crowd, one hand resting delicately on her flat stomach. Ethan sat right beside her, smiling as he peeled an orange for her. They were surrounded by fawning, wealthy guests. I was long accustomed to being ignored and left in the shadows. But hearing Ethan and his friends excitedly discussing baby names for Chloe’s child… I involuntarily looked down at my own flat stomach. There was a baby there once, too. My child. Ethan’s child. On the day Chloe pushed me down the stairs, I was over three months pregnant. When the blood started pooling between my legs, I was paralyzed by absolute terror. Panicking and helpless, I frantically called Ethan’s phone over and over again. I called over a dozen times. The only answer I eventually got was the muffled sound of Chloe moaning in ecstasy in the background. It wasn’t until late the next afternoon that Ethan finally found out about the miscarriage from his executive assistant. He didn’t offer any elaborate explanations. He only said two sentences to me. “It’s better this way. Saves us a lot of trouble.” “Make sure you take your birth control on time from now on.” After saying that, he transferred the deed to the Bel Air mansion into my name. Back then, I forced a smile and consoled myself. Trading an unborn mistake for a twenty-million-dollar mansion. It was a good deal. But now, looking at the overflowing tenderness in Ethan’s eyes, seeing how incredibly excited he looked… A bizarre, unprecedented wave of agonizing sorrow suddenly surged in my chest. “Why are you so late?” Ethan’s voice violently snapped me out of my memories. His cold gaze swept over my pale face, finally landing in the direction of the kitchen. “The fish is already prepped. Chloe is extremely sensitive to the smell of seafood right now, so be careful when you’re cooking it.” I smiled. A sugar baby. A mistress. I didn’t have the right to feel sad or throw a tantrum. I nodded and obediently walked into the kitchen. Behind me, loud, undisguised mocking laughter erupted from the living room. “Oh my god, look at the ‘little Mrs. Sterling’ playing the perfect housewife.” Chapter 4 “Her man is marrying another woman and having a baby, and instead of causing a scene, she actually comes over to cook for them!” “What husband? Ethan never married her. She’s nothing but a high-priced escort he keeps on the side.” “Now that Ethan has a real fiancée, she’s gonna get tossed out on the street any day now!” I had heard these exact insults a million times before. I washed my hands and dropped the sliced ginger into the simmering pot. In my head, I silently counted down the days until my flight. I was so lost in thought that I jumped when someone suddenly tapped my shoulder. It was Ethan’s executive assistant. He grabbed my hands and shoved them into a bucket of industrial sanitizer sitting on the counter. Then, he handed me a black surgical mask, explaining in a deadpan voice. “Ms. Thorne said she is a severe germaphobe. She says women like you are ‘unclean,’ and from now on, you must undergo full-body sanitization before entering the Sterling estate.” “Ms. Thorne also said that looking at your face makes her so nauseous she can’t eat. She demands you wear this mask whenever you are in her presence.” “Also, once you’re done with the soup, you can leave.” “Today is a private Sterling family dinner. You don’t have the right to sit at the table.” More childish, pathetic power plays. I was completely immune to these tactics by now. Not too long ago, Chloe had actually demanded I get on my knees and wash her feet. Wearing a mask was nothing. As long as the money cleared, I didn’t care. I nodded obediently. I put on the mask and continued watching over the simmering fish stew. Chloe was incredibly picky. One minute she complained it was too hot, the next she complained it was too fishy. I had to remake the entire pot of soup four separate times. My hands were covered in painful, red burn blisters from the boiling water and hot pots. Only then was she finally satisfied and allowed me to leave. The old estate was secluded. By the time I finally drove back to the Bel Air mansion, it was close to midnight. My body still hadn’t fully recovered from the miscarriage. I laid in bed, in agonizing pain for hours, before finally slipping into a feverish, exhausted sleep. I had barely fallen asleep when a sharp, brutal pain clamped down on my wrist. Ethan was standing by the bed, his face terrifyingly dark. He violently yanked me up by my arm. “What the hell did you put in that soup?!” “Chloe drank it and her stomach hasn’t stopped cramping!” I was completely disoriented, mumbling groggily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Ethan glared at me, a vicious sneer twisting his face. “Stop playing dumb. Don’t think I don’t know exactly what kind of trash you are.” “You’re exactly like the cheap whores who drove my mother to suicide! Desperate for money, desperate for status, willing to do absolutely anything to secure the bag!” “You tried to trap me with a baby and failed, so now you’re trying to murder the baby in Chloe’s stomach?!” My wrist felt like it was going to snap. My poorly-healed abdomen cramped with a sharp, agonizing pain. Operating on pure instinct, I shoved Ethan away and yelled. “Ethan, are you out of your fucking mind?! Chloe’s stomach hurting has absolutely nothing to do with me!” “She’s the one who murdered my child first! If something actually happens to her, it’s called karma!” The moment the words left my mouth, a brutal, ringing slap crashed against my face. Ethan grabbed me by the throat, his eyes blazing with murderous rage. “Mia, who the hell gave you the right to disrespect Chloe?!” “Do you honestly think you’re even worthy of breathing the same air as her?” “Chloe comes from a prestigious family. She is pure. She is innocent.” “And you? You’re nothing but a dog I pay to feed. A cheap whore who opens her legs for anyone with a checkbook.” “If I’m in a good mood, I’ll throw you a bone. If you piss me off, I can destroy your entire life in a heartbeat!” Ethan was practically roaring. He violently ripped my silk nightgown open. He was about to do worse when his phone suddenly rang. Whatever was said on the other end of the line made his face drop. His rage instantly mutated into pure, unfiltered panic. He turned and sprinted toward the door. Right before he crossed the threshold, he stopped and looked back at me.

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I was hospitalized with severe gastroenteritis for five days, and Shannon didn’t come to visit me once. That’s when I knew: it was time for us to get a divorce. That evening, I slid the drafted divorce agreement across the desk to her. She looked up from her computer, her gaze steady, as if she could see right through me. “The day before yesterday, I missed our dinner because I had to help Daniel fix his data analysis. You know he’s a new hire, he’s inexperienced, and he’s an alumni from my college. I’m the only one he can turn to for help.” “Yesterday, he left his tie in my car. I drove back to return it to him, and that’s why I missed our anniversary.” “Today, his presentation had a massive error, and he only had three hours before the deadline. He’s on my team; I couldn’t just leave him hanging.” “I know you’ve always been bothered by his presence. I can show you my phone and the office security footage to prove there’s nothing going on between us.” “As for you being hospitalized with gastroenteritis, I saw your text. But the company group chats were blowing up, and I just forgot to reply in the moment. That’s everything. I’ve explained it all clearly. If you still want a divorce after this, then I will cooperate.” I looked at her calmly. Over the past few days, she had done so much for Daniel. She, who always kept a strict sleep schedule, had stayed up late three nights in a row for him. Yet, she forgot to stop by the hospital even once to check on me, her husband, lying in a hospital bed. I nodded. “Let’s just get the divorce.” Chapter 1 I waited at the county clerk’s office until the staff went home for the day. Shannon never showed up. When she finally got home, it was already 11:00 PM. Seeing me on the couch, she didn’t say a word and walked straight to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. I spoke up. “I called you thirteen times. You didn’t answer.” She paused mid-sip, pulled out her phone to check, and showed absolutely no emotion. “I turned my phone off for a meeting today and forgot to turn it back on. What’s up?” Her tone was so incredibly flat, like she was casually remarking on the weather. I knew it. She had forgotten our appointment. Again. She always had a terrible memory when it came to me. In our seven years of marriage, this kind of thing had happened countless times. From the little things, like asking her to turn off the AC before leaving, or asking her to pick up takeout on her way home. To the massive things, like when my dad was terminally ill. His final wish was to see his family one last time. I asked her to take just one day off work. Just one day to fly back to my hometown with me. She agreed. But my dad passed away, and she still hadn’t arrived. I only found out later. That day was Daniel’s first time taking the lead on a project, and he was nervous. She had promised him she would be there in person to support him and have his back. That was the very first time I truly realized that I carried absolutely zero weight in Shannon’s heart. The realization felt like a dull plastic knife being dragged forcefully across my chest—it hurt, but it wasn’t enough to kill me. I pulled myself out of my thoughts and kindly explained to her: “We had an appointment to file the divorce papers today.” “Tomorrow is Saturday, and they’re fully booked. I rescheduled us for Monday morning.” Shannon kept her eyes glued to her lit phone screen, never once looking at me. “Fine. See you at the clerk’s office on Monday.” I nodded. Monday came. Shannon and I signed the divorce papers. After the mandatory 30-day waiting period, we would finalize the dissolution of marriage. After signing, Shannon kept her head down, her thumbs flying across her phone screen, replying to someone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. On her screen, a contact with a generic grey avatar had just sent her a string of crying emojis. We walked out the doors of the courthouse. Shannon said to me, “I have an emergency at the office. I can’t give you a ride—” I nodded and pointed to the Uber that had already pulled up to the curb. “My ride is here. Go ahead and get back to work.” The Uber was parked right next to her car. I opened the door and got in. I didn’t look back at Shannon standing outside the car. Chapter 2 I texted my buddy, Mark, to let him know I was divorcing Shannon, and asked him to keep an eye out for a decent apartment for me. My hometown was in the Midwest, over a thousand miles away from Seattle. I had sold my house back home years ago to help pay for my dad’s medical bills. The condo I was living in now was mostly paid for by Shannon, and the deed was in her name. After the divorce, I had to move out. I was basically homeless. Mark quickly sent me three listings for suitable apartments. Just as I was about to hop on a FaceTime call with a leasing agent, a text from Shannon popped up. [Thai Basil Chicken and Mango Sticky Rice.] [Get here early, I have a meeting at 1:30 PM.] I stared at the two messages, and calmly swiped to delete them. Shannon worked insane hours, and she rarely ate on time or ate well. After she collapsed from severe stomach ulcers and was hospitalized a few years ago, I started researching recipes online. From that day on, I cooked and delivered a hot, stomach-friendly meal to her office every single day. She ate whatever I made, rarely complaining. I kept this up for three years, and Shannon’s stomach ulcers never flared up again. Six months ago, she suddenly started requesting specific dishes. I thought she was just getting bored of the usual bland, stomach-soothing meals, so I started putting extra effort into modifying the recipes. Until that one day. I saw the text messages between her and Daniel on her phone. Daniel: [Hey Shannon, what delicious food did Nathan make today?] Daniel: [Ugh, steamed veggies again? I hate steamed food.] Daniel: [Can you tell Nathan to stop making steamed stuff next time? I want stir-fry.] Daniel: [Nathan is such a good homemaker. I literally can’t cook to save my life. You’re so lucky, Shannon.] Shannon had replied: Shannon: [You are completely different from him. Don’t put yourself down like that.] Shannon: [One person is crushing it in the corporate world, the other is a stay-at-home husband. There is zero comparison.] Shannon: [A person can’t be completely useless. Staying at home, cooking is the only thing he can actually do.] Seeing those words at the time, I was devastated. So, I confronted Shannon and asked her directly. She was surprised I had read her messages, but she wasn’t angry. She just answered me calmly and casually. “Oh, Daniel has a bad stomach and can’t eat takeout all the time. The food you make happens to be perfect for him, and it’s super nutritious. Why not kill two birds with one stone?” Her light, dismissive tone felt like a sledgehammer, violently shattering my warm, devoted heart into a million pieces. I had sweated in the kitchen for hours, constantly studying recipe books in my free time. My meticulously prepared meals, my unwavering devotion. It all just became a casual joke for her to comfort another man. The truth was, I wasn’t unemployed. I worked as a freelance technical translator in my spare time. The massive stacks of foreign language dictionaries I used for work were sitting right there on the bookshelf. It’s just that she never cared enough to notice. After finalizing a lease on a new apartment, I felt a massive weight lift off my shoulders. Mark said since I was back on the market, he was going to take me out and make me pay for a massive steak dinner. I happily agreed. When Shannon finally called me, I was dozing off on my new couch. “Nathan, didn’t you see my texts?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to wake up. “I saw them. What’s up?” The woman on the other end of the line suddenly fell silent. A moment later, I heard her say: “I haven’t eaten lunch yet.” “You can order UberEats.” “Didn’t you always hate it when I ate takeout?” Her tone was so incredibly confused. I felt a wave of exhaustion, and spoke to her with genuine sincerity. “Cooking for you wasn’t a legal obligation. I did it voluntarily because it broke my heart to see you in pain from your ulcers.” “But Shannon, we signed the divorce papers a week ago.” Chapter 3 After Shannon hung up the phone, I went back to my bedroom and slept until it was pitch black outside. When I walked out of my room, I saw Daniel supporting Shannon as they pushed the front door open. The leg of her slacks was torn; she had clearly taken a bad fall. Daniel followed closely behind her, his eyes red, urgently nagging her. “Shannon, slow down! Your leg is still bleeding!” Seeing me, Daniel immediately started complaining to me. “Nathan, you have to talk some sense into Shannon! We went to a client dinner today, and the client wanted me to take a shot of whiskey. Shannon absolutely refused to let me drink it. When we were leaving, the client ‘accidentally’ bumped into her, and she fell down a flight of stairs and scraped her leg.” “Taking one shot wouldn’t have killed me, I can handle my liquor. Why did she have to play the hero?” Daniel said he wanted me to “talk some sense into her,” but the smug, upward tilt of his lips was painfully obvious, and his act of being angry was terribly unconvincing. So I didn’t say a single word. I just nodded and turned back toward my room. I had lived in this condo for five years; I had a lot of things to pack up and organize. From the living room, I could periodically hear Daniel’s laughter. A little while later, there was a knock on my door. I got up and opened it. Shannon was leaning against the doorframe for support, asking me: “Where is the first-aid kit?” She pulled up her pant leg, showing me the bloody scrape on her shin. I glanced at it, then looked away, my tone laced with genuine confusion. “The first-aid kit? Didn’t you take it to Daniel’s apartment?” Three months ago, Daniel bought an electric scooter to commute to work. On his very first day riding it, he crashed and scraped himself up. The moment Shannon got the phone call, she abandoned me on my birthday and rushed out to find him. Later that same week, I accidentally burned my hand while cooking. I couldn’t find the first-aid kit, so I called Shannon. Daniel answered her phone. “The first-aid kit?” “Hey Nathan, I crashed my scooter, so Shannon brought the first-aid kit over to my place. Can you just tough it out for a bit? I’ll have Shannon bring it back to you tonight.” Shannon’s usually stoic face finally showed a flicker of emotion. She had clearly just remembered. “I forgot.” I smiled, nodding in total agreement. “You do have a terrible memory.” On the day Daniel answered that phone call… I was so furious that when Shannon got home, I confronted her. I asked her why she gave our household necessities to another man. She wouldn’t even look me in the eye. Her gaze remained fixed on her laptop screen, typing away as she spoke. “It’s just a first-aid kit.” “It sits in the house all year and nobody uses it. I gave it to him, so what?” But that first-aid kit… every single month, I meticulously checked the expiration dates on all the medications and restocked it with new supplies. Every single item inside was carefully curated by me, representing my desire to protect this household. And she casually handed it over to another man. Just like every meal I poured my heart into making… with a casual wave of her hand, it became someone else’s dinner. I reminded her: “You can order medical supplies on DoorDash now. If there’s nothing else, I have to get back to packing.” With that, I shut the door, completely ignoring the two people standing outside. Shannon stared blankly at the tightly closed door. Her heart suddenly felt a little empty. Chapter 4 The days passed one by one. I slowly shipped the boxes I packed back to my hometown. The condo I had lived in for five years was gradually becoming empty. It was like the vessel that held all my memories was being slowly drained dry. I thought the last few days of the waiting period would pass by quietly. But Shannon suddenly changed. She became oddly domesticated. The woman who used to be obsessed with working late suddenly started coming home exactly at 5:00 PM. The person who never cared about my needs started buying me breakfast and bringing home late-night snacks. I couldn’t figure out what her angle was, so I finally asked her what she was doing. Shannon was rarely caught off guard, but she hesitated for a long time before answering. “My mom called and said she wanted to have a family dinner. She wants us to come over.” I hesitated for a moment, but eventually agreed. I had always gotten along great with Shannon’s parents, and they treated me like their own son. Since we were getting divorced, it was only right to see them one last time to say goodbye. It was drizzling on the day we went to the restaurant. Her parents had already ordered, and the table was covered with mostly my favorite dishes. Shannon’s mom used the serving spoons to place a generous piece of braised pork into my bowl. She smiled and started chatting about how the neighbor’s daughter-in-law just had her second baby. Then, she seamlessly pivoted the conversation to me and Shannon. “When are you two going to start thinking about having a kid?” “While your dad and I still have the energy to help you babysit.” In the past, I probably would have smiled and openly said we weren’t in a rush. But this time, I didn’t say anything. I kept my head down and quietly ate the piece of pork sitting on top of my rice. The table went completely silent for a good ten seconds. Her parents exchanged confused looks. Shannon reached under the table and grabbed my hand, her tone firm: “Very soon.” Her parents’ faces lit up with smiles. I gently pulled my hand out of her grip. Shannon was focused on checking an email on her phone and didn’t seem to notice. After dinner, Shannon’s mom pulled me aside to chat. Shannon’s phone rang several times, but she ignored it. Her mom nudged her arm. “It’s so loud. I’m trying to talk to Nathan.” Shannon glanced at me. “Work emergency. I need to take this.” By the time the table was cleared, Shannon still hadn’t returned. I tried calling her, but she didn’t answer. Her parents tried calling her, and still, no response. Staring out at the pouring rain, my mind suddenly flashed back to a specific day. I was walking past Shannon’s office building when a massive torrential downpour started. There were no Ubers available on the app. I waited until exactly 5:00 PM, when Shannon got off work, and called her. The moment the call connected. I saw a familiar car parked just down the street. I saw Shannon in the driver’s seat, and Daniel sitting in the passenger seat. Shannon asked me what was wrong. I told her it was pouring rain, and asked if she could come pick me up since I wasn’t far away. She replied: “Just wait for an Uber. I’m stuck at the office working overtime.” Right after she said that, the boy next to her reached over and offered her a potato chip. She covered the phone, turned her head slightly as if to decline, but eventually gave in and ate it. She lied so smoothly, so naturally, that for a second I actually thought I had identified the wrong car. I spent dozens of sleepless nights overthinking that day. Eventually, I figured it out. She didn’t love me, so she didn’t care. Just like how she didn’t like potato chips, but she wouldn’t refuse when Daniel brought one to her lips. Just like how she didn’t like eating leftovers, and wouldn’t touch a single bite of the noodles I made for her if they got cold. The rain finally stopped. I called an Uber and took her parents home. In the middle of the night. I heard the sound of Shannon coming home. She was talking loudly on the phone. Through the thin drywall, I clearly heard her let out an exasperated sigh and say, “Daniel.” When I woke up the next morning. My phone had over a dozen missed calls from Daniel. There were also unread text messages from him. Daniel: [Nathan, Shannon and I haven’t crossed any lines! Please tell her not to transfer me to another department!] Daniel: [She said you misunderstood and want to divorce her. I swear I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I’ll keep my distance from now on, just please don’t let her fire me!] I stared blankly at those two messages. I didn’t reply, just placed my phone face down on the desk. I started packing the last few pieces of clothing I had left in the guest room. Shannon pushed the door open, her tone frantic and urgent. “Nathan, what exactly did you say to Daniel?” “He said he was going to explain everything to you, but now he’s disappeared! I can’t reach him anywhere!” “What did you say to him?!” Her chest was heaving heavily, and she glared at me unblinkingly. She was usually so reserved and collected; she rarely had such intense emotional outbursts. And yet, she was losing her mind over another man. I pulled up the chat with Daniel and held the phone up to her face. “I have no idea what happened between you two last night to drag me into this.” “When he sent these messages, I was asleep. And frankly, I don’t feel any obligation to reply to him.” Shannon opened her mouth to speak, but her phone started ringing. Seeing the caller ID, her frantic expression instantly morphed into relief, and then back to worry. “Come back first. We can talk about everything else later.” “Do you really want your parents to keep leeching off you?! Come back!” “Then come stay at my place!” “It’s a three-bedroom apartment. It’s just me and Nathan here.” As she said that, she shot a look at me and put the phone on speaker, holding it out to me. Daniel’s tearful, choked-up voice blared loudly through the speaker. “Nathan, I’m so sorry, I know this is a huge inconvenience.” “I ended my lease because I was planning to move back to my hometown, but Shannon insisted I come back. I can’t find an apartment on such short notice. Can I please crash with you guys for a little bit?” “I swear, the second I find a place, I’ll move out. Please.” Meeting Shannon’s heavily suggestive gaze, I felt my fingertips go cold, and then I just wanted to laugh. “Sure. Welcome to our home.” On the other end of the line, Daniel cheered with joy. Shannon meticulously gave him instructions. “Wait for me at the airport. I’m on my way.” She hung up the phone and turned to me. “I’m going to pick Daniel up and come right back. Could you set up the guest room for him?” I reminded her: “Can’t Daniel just take an Uber? There’s an appointment we need to go to together.” Shannon frowned deeply. “I already promised him. I can’t just go back on my word.” “It’s only a three-hour round trip. Whatever it is, it can wait until I get back.” “Right.” “I’m leaving then.” She hurried out the door. She didn’t even notice the small duffel bag sitting right next to me. I waited for Shannon for three hours. She never came back. I scrolled through my phone and saw an Instagram post Daniel had made ten minutes ago. [I was so depressed today, but Shannon insisted on taking me to the auto show! What guy can say no to an auto show? I know I can’t! ~] I ‘liked’ his post. I stood up. I grabbed the duffel bag containing the last set of clothes I owned. And I walked out of the condo I had lived in for five years. After leaving the county clerk’s office, I sent a photo of the finalized divorce decree to Shannon, and headed straight to the airport. Seven hours later, my flight landed in my hometown. I got into my buddy Mark’s car, who had been waiting for me at the arrivals curb. While listening to him ramble on about all the new developments in our hometown, I turned on my phone. Messages flooded my screen like an avalanche.

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At my 25th birthday party, five months pregnant, my husband’s “tomboy” best friend lost a drinking game. She glanced at me, a smirk playing on her lips, and proudly announced to the room: “Let me tell you a secret, guys. Ethan’s stamina is absolutely insane…” “This son of a bitch kept me up so late last night, my legs were numb. My back is still killing me today!” It felt like I had been struck by lightning. Seeing the color completely drain from my face, she finally realized she had crossed a line. She giggled and immediately tried to play it off. “Oh my god, relax, Mia! Don’t misunderstand, Ethan and I are just bros. Purely physical. You’re pregnant and out of commission right now, so as his best bro, I was just helping him blow off some steam.” “Don’t worry, we used protection. Total safe play.” As if remembering something, she leaned into my ear and whispered loudly, “But seriously, the guy has moves. You’re a lucky woman, Mia!” My blood boiled. I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face. “You stand in front of me and brag about sleeping with my husband? Do you have no shame?!” Before Chloe could even react, Ethan exploded. He berated me for being petty, pointed at the front door, and told me to get the hell out. The moment I stepped out of the apartment, the deafening slam of the door was followed closely by Chloe’s mocking laughter. “Damn, bro, for that slap alone, I’m making you call me ‘Daddy’ next time!” His frat-boy friends were probably taking bets inside, guessing how long it would take for me to crawl back, covered in mud, begging Ethan for forgiveness. But they didn’t know. I didn’t want this rotting, putrid marriage anymore. … Standing in the hallway, I could still hear the noisy chatter from inside the apartment. “Why is Mia always so dramatic? Guys have physical needs, it’s totally normal. Pulling a stunt like that… she completely killed the vibe!” “If that was my wife, I would’ve smacked her back and made her apologize to the whole room!” Ethan didn’t say anything, but suddenly, the door ripped open. He looked down at me with pure disdain, and abruptly shoved a piece of my birthday cake directly into my face. “Are you happy now that you’ve embarrassed me in front of everyone?!” “I told you it was just a physical hookup. Do you not understand English?” “You think just because you’re pregnant, you’re the queen of the world? You either apologize to Chloe right now, or you get out! I’m going to cure you of this princess syndrome today if it kills me!” He turned his head. Catching Chloe’s amused, gloating gaze, his expression instantly softened into a tender smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle her for you. Nobody gets to bully you while I’m around!” Seeing that I had no intention of apologizing, he suddenly snatched my phone from my hand. He opened my banking app and transferred every single dollar from our joint account into his personal one. The moment I received the text alert that my balance was zero, the door slammed shut in my face again. Inside, someone chuckled. “Ethan, it’s literally snowing outside. Kicking her out with zero money… isn’t that a bit harsh? Aren’t you worried she’ll actually divorce you?” “Divorce me? I don’t mean to be mean, but have you seen her lately? She’s pushing 160 pounds. What’s the difference between her and a pregnant cow?” “Who the hell else would want her? The only reason I agreed to actually have a wedding after the baby is born is because I’m basically running a charity.” “And she still has the nerve to throw a tantrum? She doesn’t appreciate how good she has it!” “I have to teach her a lesson!” Chloe laughed hysterically. “You idiot, I actually feel bad for you now.” Freezing tears streamed down my jaw. I couldn’t bear to listen to another word. I turned and ran toward the stairs. But my foot slipped on a puddle of melted snow. With a sickening thud, I crashed hard onto the landing. Agonizing, bone-deep pain exploded through my limbs. I desperately clutched my stomach. The apartment went completely silent for a second. Someone pointed out that I was, after all, five months pregnant, and suggested they should probably check on me. Ethan scoffed. “With her weight? She probably bounced right back up. She won’t die… Come on boys, let’s drink! I’m drinking you all under the table tonight!” Chloe wrapped her arm around his shoulder, holding a beer. “Ooh, trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me? Just tell me you want me, baby…” Laughter erupted from the apartment once again. Chapter 2 I lay on the cold hallway floor for a long time, waiting for the blinding pain to subside. I used the last $20 in my Venmo balance to call an Uber to the ER. I didn’t have enough money for a full diagnostic ultrasound, so I just booked an appointment for an induction abortion the very next day. The pity in the triage nurse’s eyes felt like a knife twisting in my open wounds. She handed me a few tissues. “Here. Wipe your face, sweetie.” I wiped the smeared frosting off my cheek and out of my hair, accidentally getting a tiny bit of cream on my lip. I tasted it. It was sweet. I never imagined my 25th birthday would end in such an absolute nightmare. Just like I never imagined the day would come when Ethan would turn into this monster. He used to protect me fiercely, no matter what. But ever since Chloe came into the picture, it was like he became a completely different person. After leaving the hospital, I shivered violently, walking endlessly under the flickering streetlights. At 1:00 AM, the snow started falling heavier. Ethan texted me: [Send me your location. I’ll come get you.] I wanted to be strong and ignore him. But I was completely penniless, I had nowhere to go, and when he kicked me out, I was only wearing a thin cardigan. Two agonizing hours after sending my location, curled into a miserable, shivering ball at a bus stop, I finally saw Ethan’s car pull up. On the dashboard of the passenger side, there was a new custom sticker. It was a cartoon drawing of Chloe’s face. Next to it, a bold caption read: [Chloe’s Exclusive Seat. Don’t even think about it. OK?] “Chloe got totally wasted and wouldn’t stop acting crazy. I had to drop her off first, that’s why I took so long.” Ethan offered a casual, dismissive excuse, acting as if absolutely nothing was wrong. When he noticed I was silent, he followed my gaze to the sticker and chuckled. “She threw a massive fit tonight because we didn’t give her a dedicated ‘best bro’ room in our new house. Said I wasn’t a loyal friend. She was giving me a headache, so I just let her put the sticker there.” “Just pretend you didn’t see it. It doesn’t stop you from sitting in the car.” I didn’t say a word. I just stared silently out the window. The air pressure in the car slowly began to drop. Waiting at a red light, Ethan slammed his foot on the brake and violently punched the steering wheel. “Chloe and I had a little too much to drink and things got physical! I already told you it was just a biological urge! You threw your little fit, you made your scene. Are you done pouting yet?!” I said softly, “You’re overthinking it. I don’t care anymore.” Ethan sneered. “You don’t care? Then why are you acting like a pathetic victim? Mia, my patience has a limit. I’m warning you, don’t push your luck.” Before I could answer, Ethan’s phone rang. It was Chloe. “Hey idiot! I left my keys in your bedroom. I’m freezing to death out here. Come get me right now! If you’re not here in fifteen minutes, I’m going to kick your ass!” His attitude did an instant 180. He laughed, teasing her flirtatiously, “Wash up and wait for me. Daddy’s on his way.” He hung up, immediately unlocked the car doors, and dismissed me without a second thought. “We’re close to the apartment anyway. You can walk the rest of the way. I have to go check on this idiot.” Watching his taillights disappear down the street, I didn’t even have the energy to feel disappointed anymore. It was a two-mile walk. By the time I reached our apartment, my feet were covered in blisters. The living room was completely trashed. Empty beer bottles and liquor bottles were scattered everywhere. I walked into our bedroom. The normally perfectly made bed was a crumpled, messy wreck. On my nightstand sat a set of strange keys. Chloe’s keys. Thinking about exactly what they had done on my bed, a wave of intense, sickening nausea surged up my throat. Just as I was dry heaving into the trash can, Ethan walked through the front door, laughing and joking with Chloe. His eyes swept over the messy bed, then landed on me vomiting. A flash of deep annoyance crossed his face. “She got drunk and laid down on the bed for a bit. Mia, why is your mind always in the gutter? I am so incredibly sick of this.” In that moment, I literally didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. Yesterday, Ethan had told me he was planning a massive birthday surprise for me, and that he would be out late preparing it. I stayed awake the entire night, brimming with excitement. The next day, all I got was a pair of earrings. Chapter 3 But I don’t even have my ears pierced. While I spent the entire night awake, anxiously waiting for him, he was awake too. The difference was, I was full of anticipation, and he was tangled in the sheets, sweating over another woman. And now, he had the audacity to say my mind was in the gutter. Chloe let out a dramatic sigh. “Pregnant women are so high maintenance. I’m exhausted. I’m just going to crash here tonight. Hey idiot, go make the bed for me.” Ethan followed her out of the room, throwing an order over his shoulder without looking back. “Clean up the living room. I’m going to make the bed for her highness.” In the past, he wouldn’t even have had to ask. I would have already been cleaning like a devoted maid. But today, I stood exactly where I was and called his name. “Ethan. Let’s get a divorce.” Hearing those words, he stopped in his tracks. “What?” He suppressed his temper, told Chloe to go wash up first, and then slammed our bedroom door shut. “Are you having a psychotic break? We got our marriage license three months ago, and you’re bringing up divorce?!” I nodded. “Yeah. I think Chloe is a much better fit for you.” Ethan let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Just because I slept with her last night? I literally told you it only happened because we were wasted. Do you not understand English?” “And even if we did sleep together, we’re still just bros! She doesn’t have all these manipulative, petty, jealous thoughts like you do. She doesn’t even care about this kind of stuff…” I cut him off, unable to hide the dripping sarcasm in my voice. “Right. A ‘bro’ you can fuck. A ‘bro’ you can have sex with until two in the morning. Such a strong bond.” Until two in the morning. I always thought Ethan just wasn’t that interested in sex. Whenever we were intimate, it was always rushed and over quickly, like he was just fulfilling a biological chore. Turns out, he wasn’t uninterested in sex. He was just uninterested in me. The moment those words left my mouth, Ethan was furious. He shoved me hard against the door, pinning me so I couldn’t move. “You’re just jealous! Stop acting like such a fucking victim!” “Here, take your clothes off! I’ll satisfy you right now!” He leaned in and tried to crush his lips against mine. Thinking of his naked, sweaty body tangled with Chloe’s just hours ago, I shoved him away as hard as I could, but he was too strong. I endured his assault with absolute numbness. The next second, Chloe’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Hey idiot! Come here quick, I have an emergency!” Ethan stopped instantly. He didn’t even look back at me as he strode out of the room. As I slumped against the door, clutching my cramping stomach, my phone buzzed with a text from Chloe. [Mia, are you guys seriously talking about divorce? Please don’t be mad. Ethan and I just had a moment of purely physical passion last night. We really are just pure bros.] [Look, if we weren’t, who would ever agree to do something like this? Wouldn’t he be completely disgusted?] To prove her innocence, she sent a video. In the video, Ethan was holding Chloe’s bloody tampon. Under her teasing commands, he actually brought it close to his nose and sniffed it. “Fuck, Chloe, are you a monster?! You’re bleeding so much, this is fucking disgusting!” “If you hadn’t gone so hard last night, would I be bleeding this much?! You still have the nerve to complain? I’ll kill you!” The man’s face was full of exaggerated disgust, but he continued holding the bloody tampon in his hand. The moment the video ended, an explosive, deafening roar went off in my brain. Every single frame of that video stabbed into my heart like a serrated knife. It hurt so much my internal organs felt like they were churning. I rushed into the master bathroom and violently dry heaved over the toilet. From what I knew, Ethan was an absolute germaphobe when it came to that kind of thing. He always thought periods were dirty and gross, and he couldn’t even stand to look at my feminine products. Once, I accidentally leaked a tiny drop of blood onto the bedsheets in the middle of the night. He immediately grabbed his pillow and slept in the guest room. The next day, he literally threw the entire mattress in the dumpster. Tears blurred my vision. I didn’t sleep a single second that night. When the sun came up, Ethan woke up early and, in an unprecedented move, actually cooked breakfast. When I walked out of the bedroom, I overheard Chloe asking him a question. Chapter 4 “Did you manage to calm her down? If you guys actually get a divorce, I’m going to look like the bad guy.” “Calm who down? She was just horny and throwing a tantrum. I could beg her to divorce me and she wouldn’t have the guts to do it.” “Tsk, then why didn’t you just throw the covers over her and fuck her to shut her up? Isn’t that your specialty?” Ethan shoved a peeled hard-boiled egg into her mouth. “Not interested. Have you seen her body lately? Looking at her for too long takes years off my life. Just eat your food and stop worrying about it.” Chloe burst into roaring laughter. My breathing hitched. Sharp, stabbing pains radiated through my abdomen. So this was the man I was willing to cut ties with my own parents to marry. I turned around and walked back into the bedroom, completely devoid of any remaining hesitation. I packed a small bag and was getting ready to leave for the hospital when Ethan called out to me. “Babe, I made breakfast specifically for you. Come eat.” The breakfast he “specifically made for me” was a steaming bowl of shrimp congee sitting on the table. He had completely forgotten that I was deadly allergic to shrimp. “I’m not eating.” Seeing that I looked terrible, he grabbed his jacket and walked over. “It’s freezing outside, why aren’t you wearing a heavier coat? Where are you going? I’ll drive you.” Chloe sat at the table behind him, her legs crossed, watching the drama unfold with amusement. It was like she was mocking Ethan for acting tough but still desperately trying to play the good husband. Ethan glanced back at her, lifting his chin with a smug “watch this” expression. Watching their little performance, I felt nothing but a hollow bitterness. “The hospital.” Hearing the word “hospital,” Ethan’s expression finally grew serious. “Why are you going to the hospital? Is the baby giving you trouble…?” Before he could finish, Chloe yelled from the kitchen table. “Hey idiot, I need to go home! Drive me!” “I’m not your chauffeur! I’m busy! Can’t you see my wife isn’t feeling well and I need to take her to the hospital?!” He said that, but as I was about to get in the car, he yelled back to Chloe, “Get in, I’ll drop you off on the way.” Her apartment was in the exact opposite direction of the hospital, but he still called it “on the way.” Chloe laughed, cursed at him playfully, and walked over to the passenger side door. She glanced pointedly at her custom sticker on the dashboard, the meaning in her eyes painfully obvious. She wanted me to get out of the front seat. I had absolutely reached my limit. “Chloe, I haven’t finalized the divorce yet. This car does not belong to you.” “But Ethan promised me this was my exclusive seat! Ugh, this is so annoying… Hey, you decide. Who gets the passenger seat?” She spoke with absolute entitlement, crossing her arms and making a threatening gesture at Ethan’s eyes. “If you choose her over your best bro, I will lose all respect for you.” Ethan laughed. “Am I that kind of guy?” He turned to me. “Babe, just sit in the back. It’s just a seat. Think of it as apologizing to her for that slap you gave her yesterday.” It felt like someone was stomping on my heart with spiked cleats. It hurt so much I couldn’t stand up straight. I didn’t want to miss my scheduled abortion appointment. Swallowing the bitter bile in my throat, I climbed into the backseat. Chloe happily hopped into the passenger seat. The two of them bickered and flirted the entire drive. When we arrived at her building, she complained that her shower was broken and demanded Ethan come up and fix it. Ethan hesitated for a second, then turned to me. “Babe, you head to the hospital first. I’ll be right there.” “Don’t worry, I’ve never missed a single one of your prenatal appointments. You and the baby are the most important things in the world to me.” He quickly Zelle’d me $2,000, then walked into her apartment building with Chloe without looking back. He never showed up. Not even as they wheeled me into the operating room. The anesthesia hit my veins. I don’t know how much time passed, but through the fog of unconsciousness, I heard the doctor’s frantic voice. “Where is the husband?! The patient is hemorrhaging, we might need to perform an emergency hysterectomy! We need him to sign the consent forms right now!” “Where is the emergency contact?! This is critical!”

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Among the eight daughters-in-law of the Crawford family, I was considered the most useless, the one who would never amount to anything. While my sisters-in-law were dominating the Forbes lists, I was maxing out credit cards on Rodeo Drive. While they discussed mergers, acquisitions, and corporate restructuring, I only cared about my VIP quotas for exotic Hermès Birkins. In their eyes, I was just the brainless gold digger that Arthur, the youngest Crawford son, was blind enough to marry. I didn’t care. As long as I could swipe my husband’s black Amex without a limit, my only job was to look drop-dead gorgeous. That was, until the Crawford Empire was cornered by a cartel of international corporate raiders and faced absolute annihilation. The opponent came in hot, using three massive overseas gold mines as collateral to completely drain Crawford Enterprises of its last drops of cash flow. The entire family was in a state of panic. My father-in-law’s hair turned snow-white overnight. The elite sisters-in-law exhausted every connection they had on Wall Street, but they couldn’t dig up a single piece of background info on the rival. The enemy sat arrogantly in the master armchair of our living room, forcing my father-in-law to hand over the Chairman’s voting seal. Holding a cup of hand-poured artisan coffee, I walked down the grand staircase and frowned. “Where did this cheap wannabe come from? He’s dirtying my sofa.” Victoria, the eldest sister-in-law, yanked me behind her and snapped: “Get back to your room right now!” My husband instinctively covered my eyes, trying to drag me backward to safety. In the moment of ultimate crisis, the entire family subconsciously moved to protect me. I reluctantly turned around, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the Patek Philippe on the rival’s wrist. No way. The big boss who supposedly owns three global gold mines… is wearing a Patek Philippe with crooked hour markers? …… “The cash flow is completely severed. New York just pulled all our lines of credit.” Victoria slammed the encrypted satellite phone down. It hit the antique Persian rug with a heavy, muffled thud. The entire living room fell into a deathly silence. The Crawfords were one of the oldest, most formidable old-money dynasties on the East Coast. A family of absolute elites. The eldest sister-in-law, Victoria, was a ruthless M&A shark on Wall Street. The second sister-in-law, Eleanor, was a legendary queen in Silicon Valley venture capital. My father-in-law, William Crawford, had steered the Crawford corporate empire for forty years. And then there was me. Serena Sinclair. The wife Arthur Crawford brought home. In their eyes, the most pathetic, irredeemable gold digger to ever grace their halls. I was currently leaning back into my custom, Hermès-orange leather sofa. My head was down as I swiped through my iPad. On the screen was the exclusive exotic leather inventory list sent over by the boutique manager in Beverly Hills. Three Himalayan crocodile skin Birkins. Two diamond-encrusted Kellys. My fingertip hovered over the screen, hesitating. “Eleanor, did the European funds reply?” Victoria asked, rubbing her temples. Her voice was terribly hoarse. Eleanor shut her MacBook. She shook her head exhaustedly. “All rejected.” “The enemy came prepared. They’ve drained our last liquid reserves.” “They used three overseas gold mines as collateral to completely cut off all our escape routes.” William Crawford sat in his vintage mahogany armchair. He looked as though he had aged ten years overnight. His gray hair was disheveled. His usually straight spine was hunched. Arthur walked over carrying a plate of freshly peeled Cotton Candy grapes. He sat down next to me. He pierced a grape with a toothpick and held it up to my lips. “Open.” His tone was incredibly gentle. As if the fact that his family was facing bankruptcy didn’t even exist. I bit the grape off the toothpick. It was very sweet. Victoria looked up at us, her eyes full of complex emotions. “Arthur.” She spoke sharply. “Look at the situation we are in. How do you still have the mood to feed her grapes?” Arthur grabbed a silk napkin and gently wiped the corner of my mouth. His movements were light. “Victoria, you guys are handling the company.” “Serena scares easily. Don’t frighten her.” Victoria looked like she was going to have an aneurysm. She turned her head away, refusing to look at us anymore. In her eyes, I was just a brainless vase who only knew how to spend money. I couldn’t be bothered to explain. I tapped on the image of the Himalayan crocodile Birkin and sent a voice memo to my private sales associate. “I’ll take this one.” I said it casually. Hearing my voice, Eleanor frowned deeply. “Serena, the family’s accounts are about to be frozen.” “Could you maybe hold off on buying two bags for right now?” Her tone was laced with suppressed anger. But she didn’t scream at me. That was the Crawford family for you. No matter how much they looked down on me, in a crisis, they still maintained a sliver of aristocratic grace toward me. “Let her buy it.” William suddenly spoke up. His voice was weak. “Arthur, use your personal offshore account to pay for it.” “The Crawfords haven’t fallen so low that we can’t afford a handbag for our daughter-in-law.” The hand holding my iPad paused. I looked up. I stared at this patriarch whose hair had turned white overnight. “Thank you, Dad,” I said softly. Victoria let out a heavy sigh. “Dad, Vincent Sterling will be here any minute.” She glanced up at the Patek Philippe wall clock. “If he forces you to hand over the Chairman’s seal… what are we going to do?” William closed his eyes. His fingers trembled slightly. The roar of powerful engines echoed from outside the estate. Carson, the estate manager, rushed into the room, his forehead slick with cold sweat. “Sir, Mr. Sterling is here.” Arthur stood up immediately. He positioned himself directly in front of me, shielding me. “Go upstairs,” he ordered in a low, serious voice that left no room for argument. “No matter what you hear, do not come out.” I looked at Arthur’s tense jawline. I didn’t move. “I haven’t finished shopping yet.” I waved the iPad in my hand. Victoria took a deep breath, suppressing her explosive temper. “Serena.” She marched over and stood towering over me. “Now is not the time for you to act like a spoiled brat.” “Vincent Sterling is a psychotic shark who eats people alive and doesn’t even spit out the bones.” “Staying down here will only make you a target.” She reached out and snatched the iPad right out of my hands, tossing it onto the sofa. “Carson, escort Mrs. Arthur back to her room.” Carson walked over and bowed deeply. “Madam, if you please.” I looked at Victoria’s fierce, strict face and actually found it hilarious. Even when she was furious, she was still trying to protect me. She was terrified that a pretty, useless vase like me would catch the eye of a ruthless corporate raider. I stood up, casually smoothing out the hem of my silk robe. “Sure,” I replied breezily. I turned and walked toward the grand spiral staircase. My heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor with a crisp, rhythmic tap-tap-tap. When I reached the second-floor landing, I stopped. I looked down through the wrought-iron railing. The heavy mahogany front doors were pushed open. “Mr. Crawford. I trust you’ve been well?” Chapter 2 “Quite an entrance, Mr. Sterling.” Victoria glared coldly at the man walking through the doors. Vincent Sterling wore a bespoke silver-gray suit. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. A polite, cultured smile played at the corners of his mouth. He looked like the absolute textbook definition of corporate scum. He held a thick manila envelope in his hand. Behind him stood four massive, heavily armed private security contractors, completely blocking the entrance to the Crawford estate. The air in the room instantly grew thin. Vincent ignored Victoria’s icy sarcasm. He walked straight to the center of the living room. His gaze swept over the antique Persian rugs and the priceless museum-grade paintings on the walls, finally landing on William. “Mr. Crawford, you’re looking a bit under the weather.” His voice was soft, almost gentle, like a man showing concern for an old friend. “At your age, you really should take better care of your health.” William gripped the armrests of his chair. His knuckles turned white from the force. “Vincent. Spare me the pleasantries.” William’s voice was gravelly. “Why are you here?” Vincent smiled. He sat down on the master sofa—the seat normally reserved for William. He crossed his legs. His posture was lazy, yet overwhelmingly arrogant. He placed the manila envelope gently on the coffee table. Very slowly, he slid it toward William. “Mr. Crawford, Crawford Enterprises’ cash flow has completely dried up.” Vincent adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. “Your three major M&A projects in the European markets have entirely stalled.” “The daily breach-of-contract penalties you’re incurring are an astronomical figure.” Victoria stepped forward, planting herself between Vincent and William. “Those are internal Crawford matters. It is none of your concern.” Vincent tilted his head up slightly, looking at Victoria with a gaze that held a trace of mocking pity. “Victoria. Your reputation as the Queen of Wall Street M&A is indeed formidable.” He clapped his hands together lightly in slow, sarcastic applause. “It’s just a shame that in the face of absolute capital, personal talent means nothing.” He tapped the manila envelope with a long, slender finger. “I have an agreement right here.” “As long as Mr. Crawford signs it and hands over the Chairman’s voting seal…” “I will immediately inject thirty billion dollars to bail Crawford Enterprises out of this crisis.” Hearing this, Eleanor let out a cold laugh. “Thirty billion to swallow the entire Crawford Empire?” “Vincent, your appetite is dangerously large.” Vincent wasn’t angry. He maintained that chillingly gentle smile. “You misunderstand, Eleanor.” “The market capitalization of Crawford Enterprises is evaporating by the hour.” “In three days, it will be nothing but a pile of worthless scrap metal.” He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto William. “Mr. Crawford, I am not negotiating with you.” “I am informing you.” Arthur took a step forward, blocking Vincent’s line of sight. “Even if the Crawfords go bankrupt, we will never hand our legacy over to a parasite.” Vincent looked at Arthur and suddenly laughed out loud. “The youngest Crawford son is as stubborn as ever.” “I just wonder if that stubbornness is going to put food on the table.” He leaned back into the sofa and unbuttoned his suit jacket. “I forgot to mention…” “The three overseas gold mines I used as collateral to secure the debt from your creditors? Their market value has doubled.” “Right now, every single one of your creditors is standing behind me.” He looked at William’s ashen, lifeless face, his tone growing even softer. “Sign it, Mr. Crawford.” “Save your entire family from living on the streets.” I stood on the second-floor landing, watching this masterful theatrical performance. Vincent Sterling was incredibly thorough. He used the softest voice to deliver the most lethal stab to the gut. Suddenly, William erupted into a violent, chest-tearing coughing fit. Arthur rushed forward to rub his back. Eleanor quickly poured a glass of warm water and handed it to him. “Dad, please don’t get worked up.” Victoria spun around, her eyes red, glaring at Vincent. “Who the hell are you?!” “We searched the databases of every global mining conglomerate on the planet. Your name does not exist anywhere.” Vincent stood up and casually adjusted his cuffs. “Who I am isn’t important.” “What’s important is that right now, the life or death of the Crawford family is resting entirely in my hands.” He checked the watch on his wrist. “I’ll give you exactly one hour to consider.” “In one hour, if I don’t have the Chairman’s seal, the bankruptcy liquidation process for Crawford Enterprises will officially begin.” He turned his head and looked up toward the second floor. His gaze landed with laser precision on the exact spot where I was standing. “I’ve heard the youngest Mrs. Crawford is a breathtaking beauty,” Vincent said, a sleazy, playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I wonder… once Crawford Enterprises goes bankrupt, will she still be able to afford her Hermès bags?” Chapter 3 “Keep your eyes off her.” Arthur whipped his head around, his voice colder than absolute zero. He stepped into Vincent’s line of sight, completely blocking me from view, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. Vincent pulled his gaze back, casually brushing invisible dust off his immaculate suit. “Why so tense, Arthur?” His tone was breezy. “I was merely asking a question out of curiosity.” “After all, a canary accustomed to a gilded cage won’t survive long once she’s thrown out into the wild.” Victoria walked over to Arthur and gripped his shoulder tightly. “Don’t lose your temper,” she warned in a low whisper. She turned back to Vincent. “Mr. Sterling, one hour is impossible.” “We require time to verify the source of your funds and the authenticity of your mining credentials.” Vincent laughed. He sat back down on the sofa, his posture even more arrogant than before. “Verify?” “Victoria, are you still in denial about reality?” He pointed at the manila envelope on the coffee table. “The credentials are all in there.” “Reports issued by the most prestigious, top-tier valuation firms on the planet.” “Go ahead. Verify them all you want.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “But I must remind you…” “For every minute you waste, Crawford stock drops another percentage point.” William finally stopped coughing. He pushed Arthur’s hand away and shakily sat up straight. “Bring the files to me.” The patriarch’s voice was old, brittle, and exhausted. Eleanor walked over, carefully unwinding the string closure of the manila envelope. She pulled out a thick stack of documents and began flipping through them rapidly. As she read, her face grew paler and paler. “Dad…” Eleanor’s voice trembled. “The documents are real.” “The reserve assessments for all three gold mines, the extraction permits, the collateral agreements… they are all legally airtight and authenticated.” Victoria snatched the documents from her, scanning the pages with lightning speed. Her legendary, highly-touted Wall Street investment banking experience was rendered utterly useless in this moment. These documents were flawless. Absolutely impeccable. They formed a perfectly woven web of death, trapping the Crawford family entirely. “Impossible.” Victoria muttered to herself. “A transfer of gold mines on this massive of a scale… Wall Street would have definitely caught wind of it.” Vincent picked up an antique Ming dynasty teacup from the table, gave it a look of mild disgust, and set it back down. “Victoria, the world is a very big place.” “Not everything operates under the surveillance of your precious Wall Street.” He looked at the despairing faces of the Crawford family, a glimmer of triumphant malice flashing in his eyes. William closed his eyes. Two trails of murky tears slid down his deeply wrinkled face. “So, the Crawford legacy finally ends in my hands.” “Dad.” Arthur dropped to his knees in front of William, gripping his cold hands. “It’s not over yet. We can still find a way.” William slowly shook his head. “It’s no use.” He opened his eyes and looked at Carson, who was standing quietly to the side. “Go to my study. Bring down the Chairman’s seal from the safe.” “Dad!” Victoria and Eleanor yelled simultaneously. “You can’t give it to him!” Victoria bit her lip so hard it almost bled. “If you give him the seal, Crawford Enterprises officially belongs to him!” William let out a heavy sigh. “If I don’t give it to him, tomorrow the creditors will force every single member of this family onto the streets.” “I am an old man. I don’t care if I die.” He looked at Arthur, his eyes filled with profound guilt. “But you are all still young.” “Especially Serena.” Hearing my name, I paused on the staircase. “She hasn’t suffered a day in her life. She married into this family, and I will not let her suffer because of our failure.” William turned to look at Victoria. “Victoria. Go bring Serena down here.” “Have her sign the divorce papers.” “Arthur has an irrevocable trust fund set up in his name that is separate from the Crawford corporate asset package.” “Let Serena take that money and leave.” Victoria’s eyes instantly welled with tears. She looked at her father-in-law, finally unable to hold them back. “Dad… Serena might not know anything about business, but she is still a Crawford.” William waved his hand dismissively, cutting her off. “Go get her.” His tone was absolute and final. Vincent sat on the side, coldly watching this tragic family farewell. He even casually crossed his legs. “Mr. Crawford, what a touching display of loyalty and honor.” He clapped his hands in mock applause. “It’s just a pity that when disaster strikes, everyone scrambles to save themselves.” “That delicate little trophy wife of yours has probably already packed her bags and is dying to run out the door.” “Shut your damn mouth.” Chapter 4 Arthur shot up from his knees, his eyes burning with red-hot fury as he glared at Vincent. If Victoria hadn’t been gripping his arm with all her strength, his fist would have already connected with Vincent’s hypocritical, smirking face. “Go get her.” William repeated, his voice carrying the heavy, chilling weight of absolute finality. Carson wiped his tears and began walking toward the stairs. Watching this scene unfold, an indescribable, complex emotion spread through my chest. For the past three years, almost everyone in this house had looked down on me. They resented me for embarrassing the elite, highly-accomplished Crawford family name. Yet, facing total annihilation, their very first instinct was to use their final trump card to eject me from the game and guarantee my safety. I took a deep breath. I turned around and walked back to my bedroom. I walked over to the massive marble wet bar and turned on the custom Italian espresso machine. The sound of the coffee grinder was a bit jarring in the quiet room. I meticulously crafted a cup of pour-over coffee. The rich, dark aroma filled the air. Picking up the fine bone china cup, I clicked my stilettos against the floor, walking down the grand staircase step by deliberate step. Carson had only made it halfway up to the second floor when he saw me coming down. He froze. “Madam…” I walked right past him, heading straight into the main living room. Every single pair of eyes locked onto me. I was wearing my seven-figure silk robe, my long hair casually pinned up at the back of my neck. I held a steaming cup of coffee in my hand, looking entirely out of place amidst the oppressive, despairing atmosphere of the room. When Vincent saw me, his eyes lit up, his gaze sweeping over my body with blatant, disrespectful hunger. “The rumors about the youngest Mrs. Crawford certainly didn’t do her justice.” He stood up, giving a slight, mocking bow, putting on the airs of a polished gentleman. “Still in the mood for coffee at a time like this?” “I must admit, your composure is far superior to these so-called ‘iron women’ of business.” I ignored him completely. I walked over to the master sofa, looking down at the spot where he had just been sitting. I furrowed my brow in absolute disgust. “Where did this cheap wannabe come from? He’s dirtying my sofa.” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the dead silence of the living room, it echoed clearly into everyone’s ears. The smug smile on Vincent’s face shattered instantly. A flash of venomous malice crossed his eyes, but it was quickly masked by his cultured facade. “The Mrs. Crawford has quite a sense of humor.” Victoria’s face drained of color. She grabbed my arm and yanked me forcefully behind her. “Get back to your room right now!” she hissed, her palms slick with cold sweat. “You have no right to speak here!” Arthur finally snapped out of his shock. He stepped in front of me, instinctively covering my eyes and trying to pull me backward. “Serena, be a good girl, listen to me,” his voice was tight with panic. “Do what Victoria says and go upstairs.” In the moment of extreme danger, the entire family moved in perfect unison to shield me. They were terrified I would enrage the psychopath holding the power of life and death over the Crawford empire. “Mr. Crawford.” Vincent’s voice dropped to a freezing temperature, dropping the gentleman act entirely. “It seems the Crawford family truly won’t shed a tear until they see the coffin.” “Since this little trophy wife has so much backbone, we can skip signing the divorce papers.” “You can all go to hell together.” He pulled his phone from his suit pocket, preparing to issue the final liquidation order. William squeezed his eyes shut in agony. Eleanor collapsed onto the floor in total despair. Reluctantly, I pulled away from Arthur’s protective grip and turned around. And in that exact moment, I caught a glimpse of Vincent’s raised wrist. As the sleeve of his silver-gray suit slid back, a watch gleaming with a metallic luster was revealed. A Patek Philippe. Grand Complications Celestial. The hand holding my coffee cup paused mid-air. My eyes locked onto the watch. No way? A billionaire boss… wearing a fake watch? I couldn’t help but laugh coldly to myself. “Trying to play the international corporate raider?” My crisp, clear voice cut through the tension in the room, interrupting Vincent just as his finger hovered over the dial pad. I pointed directly at his wrist. “The hour markers on that Patek Philippe are crooked.” “And those mining credentials you brought? I’m guessing you whipped those up using Photoshop, too?”

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Right before our Thanksgiving family dinner, my sister suddenly offered to braid my hair. I had barely sat down when I heard a sharp snip right behind my ears. Seven years of waist-length hair, chopped off right at the nape of my neck. My sister, Chloe, paused for two seconds before collapsing onto the sofa in a fit of hysterical laughter. “Oops, I accidentally cut too much! Oh my god, Maya, you look like Lord Farquaad!” My mom looked at the piles of hair scattered across the hardwood floor and started laughing too. “Well, it’s an improvement, honestly. You always walk around with your hair in your face like the girl from The Ring. At least this saves us a trip to the salon.” I clenched my fists, my throat painfully dry. My dad impatiently waved us toward the dining room. “Hair grows back. Why do you think Chloe only pranks you and not anyone else? It’s because she loves you and wants to get a rise out of you. Sit down and eat.” My eyes instantly burned with tears. I turned to look at my boyfriend. He was looking down at his phone, transferring money to my sister. “Twenty bucks. A bet is a bet.” Feeling my gaze on him, he casually waved his phone at me. “Chloe bet you’d start crying in one minute. I bet you’d last three. You really let me down, babe.” The entire room erupted into laughter again. I stood completely frozen in place. When I was sixteen, Chloe wrote “LOSER” in permanent marker on the back of my favorite hoodie, making me the laughingstock of the school for an entire semester. When I was twenty-one, she hid my prescription glasses, making me completely bomb my senior thesis presentation. Every single time I got angry, they would just laugh and ask: “Why can’t you take a joke?” This time, a wave of profound, bone-deep exhaustion washed over me. All these years, I was never a daughter, a sister, or a partner. I was just a prop they used to keep Chloe entertained. But this time, I didn’t want to play their game anymore. 1 Chloe finally stopped laughing, picked up a chopped lock of my hair from the floor, and held it under her chin like a beard. “Mom, look! Do I look like a caveman?” My mom laughed so hard she nearly spilled the gravy. “Throw that away, it’s dirty.” Chloe pulled out her phone and started snapping photos of me, the camera shutter clicking rapidly. I raised my hand to block my face. “Stop.” “I already got them.” She snickered, already swiping through filters on her screen. “Thanksgiving exclusive. I already have the caption: From Princess to Lord Farquaad in one snip.” I lunged forward to grab her phone. My boyfriend, Ethan, smoothly stepped in and pulled her behind him protectively. “Come on, relax. It’s not like she’s posting an ugly picture of you.” The next second, my phone buzzed. Chloe had dropped a photo of me—eyes red, hair jagged and completely uneven—into the extended family group chat. A wall of “LMAO” and laughing emojis instantly flooded the screen. My aunt sent a sticker of a cartoon character pointing and laughing. My cousin asked if it was a new avant-garde trend. My mom actually typed out a reply: “Chloe’s hand slipped. Gave her sister a bald spot.” Followed by three crying-laughing emojis. I stared at the messages, my hands growing ice cold. “Delete it.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “It’s just the family group chat. I didn’t post it on Instagram.” My dad slammed his fork against his plate. “Are we eating or what? We’ve been waiting on you. Are you seriously going to ruin Thanksgiving and turn this family into enemies over some hair?” I was the one who had my hair hacked off. Yet somehow, I was the one ruining the holiday. I didn’t say another word. After I sat down, my mom placed a piece of turkey on my plate. Acting as if absolutely nothing had happened. “Your grandmother wants to FaceTime tomorrow, so don’t give me that attitude. She’s old, if she sees you sulking she’ll think we’re abusing you.” Chloe immediately chimed in. “You should probably wear a beanie, Maya. If Grandma sees that haircut her blood pressure is going to spike.” The table erupted into laughter again. Ethan even reached over and patted the top of my ruined hair. “It is a little prickly.” I flinched violently, dodging his hand. His hand hovered in mid-air, his smile fading. “Is that really necessary? I didn’t even say it looked bad.” I looked up at him. He had already turned away to pass the mashed potatoes to Chloe. “Chloe, tone it down. If you make your sister cry again, I’m the one who has to spend all night coaxing her.” Chloe stuck her tongue out at him. “Isn’t that the perfect opportunity for you to play the good boyfriend?” They tapped their glasses together in perfect synchronization. As if they were the ones who had been dating for seven years. Halfway through dinner, I got a text from the Regional Director at my firm. There was an opening for a transfer to the New York office. They had been holding the position for me for a month. Double the salary, three-year contract. I had previously turned it down twice. The first time, because my mom said New York was too far from home. The second time, because Ethan said we were getting engaged by the end of the year, so there was no point in relocating. The Director sent one final message: “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want it? You have until midnight to change your mind.” I stared at the screen for a long time. In the living room, Chloe was giving a dramatic reenactment of the exact facial expression I made when the scissors cut my hair. My mom said my eyes bugged out like a cartoon character. My dad chuckled, saying I was much more fun to prank when I was a teenager because I used to cry immediately. Ethan smiled and added, “She’s exactly the same now. Zero character development.” I lowered my head and typed back two words. “I’ll take it.” 2 The next morning, I went to the salon down the street. The stylist held up the jagged, uneven remnants of my hair and sighed. “I can’t even blend this into a bob. Whoever did this went way too deep on one side. I have to give you a pixie cut to even it out.” I nodded. “Just cut it.” The scissors snipped methodically. In the mirror, I watched the long hair I had painstakingly maintained for seven years fall to the floor. It wasn’t that I never wanted to cut my hair. But seven years ago, when I first started working, I was broke and commuting two hours a day on the subway. The hardest nights were when Ethan and I sat on the steps of our cramped apartment eating cheap instant ramen. He would always twirl the ends of my hair around his fingers. “Don’t ever cut it,” he’d say. “Long hair looks so beautiful on you. I want you to look exactly like this on our wedding day.” I listened to him. And I kept it for seven years. As the stylist brushed the stray hairs off my neck, she offered a sympathetic smile. “The short hair actually looks really sharp on you.” I gave a faint smile back. “Yeah.” Suddenly, it didn’t feel like such a tragedy to lose it anymore. When I got back to the house, there were four pairs of shoes in the entryway. But the living room was empty. I was about to call my mom when my Instagram feed refreshed. Chloe had posted a carousel of photos from the downtown Holiday Light Show. My mom and dad were holding hot cocoas. Chloe was in the middle, and Ethan was standing right next to my dad. The final photo was a selfie of the four of them smiling brightly at the camera. The caption was just two words: “Whole squad.” I stared at the photos for a long time. My mom had explicitly told me that we would all go together once I got back from the salon. They probably just got tired of waiting. Or maybe, they never intended to wait at all. Half an hour later, the front door unlocked. Chloe walked in carrying shopping bags. When she saw me, she let out a loud whistle. “Whoa, you actually went full G.I. Jane.” My mom followed her inside. “You cut it that short?” She frowned, circling me to inspect the cut. “That stylist is terrible. You look like a teenage boy.” I looked at her. “You guys went to the light show?” My mom paused. “It was a last-minute decision. Chloe said it would be too crowded later, so we just went for a quick walk. You were getting your hair cut anyway, we’ll all go together next time.” My dad swapped his shoes for slippers and added dismissively: “It’s just a light show. It’s not like they’re never doing it again.” Chloe had already skipped back to her bedroom. When she came back out, she was wearing a delicate pearl hair clip. I froze. It was mine. Ethan had given it to me for my birthday last year. I walked over to her. “That belongs to me.” Chloe touched the pearls. “I know.” “You can’t even use it with your hair like that anyway, so I’m just borrowing it.” I held out my hand. “Give it back.” Her face instantly scowled. My mom quickly stepped between us. “What are you doing? Chloe is just trying it on. Your hair is gone, if you leave it in your drawer it’s just going to collect dust.” My dad groaned in annoyance. “Are you two seriously fighting over a cheap piece of plastic?” I looked at Ethan. He stared at the clip for a few seconds. “What clip?” My chest suddenly felt completely hollow. “The one you bought me for my birthday last year.” He let out an “Oh.” As if he had finally remembered. Then he smiled. “Just let Chloe wear it. It perfectly matches the dress she has on today.” Chloe immediately shook her head triumphantly. “See? Ethan said it’s fine.” I didn’t ask for it again. That night, corporate emailed me my official transfer documents. I had to report to the New York office in three days. After signing the digital forms, I pulled out my suitcase. When my mom walked into my room and saw the open suitcase on the floor, she paused. “Why are you packing so early?” I stopped folding my shirts. She answered her own question. “Oh, because you guys are getting formally engaged by the end of the year? Makes sense. It’s a good idea to start moving your stuff over to Ethan’s place slowly.” As she spoke, she casually pulled a brand-new, tags-still-attached beige trench coat out of my closet. “Have you worn this yet? If you aren’t going to wear it, let me give it to Chloe. She’s been looking for a coat exactly this color.” I looked at her. And I suddenly smiled. “Give it to her.” My mom smiled back brightly. “See, that’s more like it. Sisters shouldn’t hold grudges over silly little things.” She walked out of the room hugging my coat. She didn’t even bother to ask why my suitcase was entirely filled with my birth certificate, my social security card, and my heavy winter clothes. 3 The next morning, Ethan came over carrying coffee and bagels. I was taking down the framed photos from my bedroom wall. He leaned against the doorframe, watching me for a minute. “Are you still mad?” “Come on, drop it. Chloe told me she was so scared last night she barely slept.” I paused. “Why was she scared?” “Because she thought you were actually going to cut her off,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s just a little brat, she isn’t malicious. You’re the older sister, you can’t hold a grudge against her forever.” I placed the final photo into my suitcase. It was a picture of Ethan and me from our first year dating. He suddenly noticed my hair. “You went that short?” I gave a noncommittal “Yeah.” He stared at me for two seconds. Then he actually smiled. “It actually looks good.” “My mom always said your hair was way too long. She said it looked unkempt.” I looked up. “Your mom?” “Yeah.” Ethan poked a straw into an iced coffee and handed it to me. “She actually told me a while ago that she wanted you to cut it short before the wedding. I just didn’t know how to bring it up. Chloe doing it was kind of a happy accident.” I didn’t take the coffee. “So you knew she was going to cut my hair?” His expression faltered for a second before he laughed it off. “I had a feeling.” “She texted me a few days ago asking what kind of prank would get the biggest reaction out of you.” My fingers slowly curled into tight fists. Ethan didn’t notice. “I just casually mentioned your hair. I didn’t think she’d actually take a pair of scissors to it.” I stared at him. “You knew I spent seven years growing it out.” “Of course I knew.” He looked at me like I was being unreasonable. “That’s why it’s funny. If she messed with something you didn’t care about, what would be the point of the prank?” The room went dead silent. Ethan chuckled at his own logic. “Don’t give me that look. I love it when you get riled up. You keep everything bottled up all the time. Chloe is the only one who can push your buttons enough to make you seem like a real, living person.” Like a real, living person. So when I was crying in frustration, shaking with anxiety, and being mocked by a room full of people… To him, that meant I was “living.” Chloe walked in from the hallway just in time to hear his last sentence. She instantly pounced, laughing. “See! I told you! Ethan knows exactly where all your trigger buttons are!” She started counting on her fingers, bragging to me. “Remember that white dress you wore to meet his parents last year? The lipstick prank? Ethan was the one who gave me the idea for that.” My lungs stopped taking in air. Ethan’s face finally changed. “Why would you bring that up?” Chloe was clueless. “Didn’t you explicitly tell me that dress was her most prized possession, so I should target that instead of her shoes? And the year before that…” “Enough.” Ethan snapped, cutting her off violently. The room fell completely silent. I looked at him. Last year, the first time I was invited to meet Ethan’s parents, Chloe intentionally smeared bright red lipstick all over the back of my skirt. For the entire dinner, Ethan’s mother kept giving me bizarre, judgmental looks. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized someone had drawn a massive, sloppy red heart right on my backside. I cried the entire night. Ethan held me and comforted me for hours. He told me: “Chloe is just so immature. I’ll rip into her for you tomorrow.” It turns out the person who handed her the knife… was him. Ethan clearly remembered that night too. He looked incredibly guilty, which only made his tone more defensive. “That was forever ago. Are you seriously going to dig up ancient history just to pick a fight?” Chloe stood behind him, muttering quietly. “Yeah, Maya, you hold onto grudges way too long.” I suddenly let out a laugh. Both of them froze. I nodded. “You’re right. I’m done digging.” Ethan audibly sighed in relief. He reached out to hug me. “That’s my girl. Once you’ve cooled off in a few days, we’ll go reshoot those engagement photos.” I didn’t pull away. I just stared at the massive, empty white square on the wall where our photos used to hang. “Okay.” That afternoon, I called the wedding planner. I canceled the engagement banquet scheduled for next month. I had paid the deposit. After deducting the cancellation fees, they wired the remaining balance back to my account. Then, I gathered Ethan’s spare apartment keys, the credit card he gave me, and the diamond engagement ring. I dropped them all into a small paper bag. Chloe poked her head into my room. “Maya, we’re having fondue tonight. Mom bought the ingredients for your favorite crab dip.” I zipped my suitcase shut. “Sounds good.” She didn’t notice that my closet was completely empty. 4 The morning of my departure, the house was even more chaotic than usual. Chloe was in the living room, meticulously setting up a ring light and tripod. When I walked past, she immediately threw a blanket over her phone. “No peeking! We’re doing a Thanksgiving sequel tonight.” My mom walked out of the kitchen carrying a plate of fruit. “You better dial it back. You really pushed your sister to the edge yesterday.” She said it as a warning, but she was smiling. Chloe looked incredibly smug. “Don’t worry! Maya stays mad for exactly two days, max.” My dad sat on the recliner, flipping through the newspaper. “She’s been like that since she was a kid. She used to pack a bag and ‘run away from home,’ only to walk to the end of the block, get hungry, and come right back.” Ethan was leaning against the dining table, sipping his coffee. Hearing that, he let out a soft laugh. “She’s exactly the same now. Where is she going to go?” None of them bothered to lower their voices. Because none of them believed for a single second that I was actually leaving. When my mom saw the suitcase in the entryway, she asked, “Are you moving your stuff to Ethan’s place today?” Chloe let out an exaggerated “Ooooh. Maya, you’re so eager!” Ethan looked surprised, but a smug smile quickly spread across his face. “You should have told me. I thought you were actually going to give me the silent treatment for a few days.” He walked over to grab the handle of my suitcase. I sidestepped him. “I’ve got it.” Ethan clicked his tongue. “Still mad. Fine, Princess, carry it yourself.” My mom tried to smooth things over. “Girls always get a little moody right before they get engaged. Just let her be.” In all these years, it was the first time she had ever told someone to “let me be.” Unfortunately, it was way too late. Before walking out the door, I went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Stuck to the fridge was a crayon drawing of our family Chloe made when she was little. Dad, Mom, and Chloe. In the bottom corner was a tiny, poorly drawn stick figure. I had drawn that myself the year I was five, right after my parents finally brought me back from my grandparents’ house in the country. My mom had laughed at it. “Why did Maya draw herself so tiny?” I didn’t know the answer back then. But maybe, even at five years old, I realized that there wasn’t much room left for me on that piece of paper. I finished the water and walked toward the front door. Chloe chased me to the entryway, yelling, “Maya, you have to be back by 6:00 PM! I prepared something massive for tonight!” My dad chimed in. “Take it easy on her, don’t make her cry again.” “Making her cry is the fun part!” As the door clicked shut, I heard Ethan say with a laugh, “Don’t worry. She couldn’t bear to miss it.” Standing in the hallway, I suddenly smiled. He was right. I used to not be able to bear it. I couldn’t bear to leave my parents. I couldn’t bear to leave my sister. And I definitely couldn’t bear to leave the man who had been by my side for seven years. So every time they stuck a knife in me, I made excuses for them. Mom was just playing favorites, Dad was just emotionally stunted, Chloe was just being playful. Ethan was just trying to bond with my family. I justified the actions of every single person in that house. The only person whose pain I never justified was my own. The Uber was waiting downstairs. The driver loaded my suitcase into the trunk. “Airport?” he asked. The team in New York had already texted me, letting me know my desk was set up and asking if I wanted to grab late-night tacos when I landed. On the way to the airport, my mom sent me a voice memo. “Pick up two boxes of pecan pie on your way back. Your dad loves the ones from the bakery downtown.” Two minutes later, Chloe texted me. “Maya, get five boxes! Ethan wants some too.” Followed by a begging dog emoji. I didn’t reply. As I was pulling up to the terminal, Ethan finally called. “Where did you run off to?” The background was loud. Chloe was asking him where she should hide a GoPro. I stared out the window at the passing cars. “I have errands to run.” Ethan let out an exasperated sigh. “Are we still playing this game? Alright, sweetie, you made your point. Come home early tonight, Chloe spent all afternoon setting up. If you ruin the prank, she’s going to be so disappointed.” Until the very last second. His biggest concern was that Chloe would be disappointed. I sat in silence for a few seconds. “Ethan.” “Yeah?” “It’s nothing.” I hung up the phone. And then I blocked his number. When my flight took off, the sky was just beginning to turn dark. A massive, brilliant moon slowly rose above the New York skyline as we descended. The family group chat was still popping off. Mom asked who was going to pick up the pies. Dad complained he was hungry. Chloe started a poll in the chat: “What time is Maya going to surrender and come home?” Ethan voted for 7:00 PM. Dad voted for 7:30 PM. Mom was the most conservative, voting for 8:00 PM. I stared at the poll for a minute. Then, I left the group chat. And powered off my phone.

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