When I went back to my parents’ house for Sunday dinner, my mom was bustling around in the kitchen. “Chloe, the iPad is acting up again. Can you take a look?” While I was fixing it, a group chat notification popped up on the screen. The group name was [Happy Family]. There were six people in the chat: my dad, my mom, my older brother Ethan, my husband Liam, and my son Noah. And Mia, the adoptive sister who found her biological parents and moved out five years ago. I was the only one not in the group. The notification was a photo my mom had just sent—a plate of Spicy Szechuan Chicken. “Mia’s favorite, hot out of the pan! When are you guys getting here? Chloe is sitting in the living room right now.” My brother Ethan replied: “Didn’t we agree not to invite her today?” Mia responded almost immediately: “Ethan, it’s just dinner. Let her eat and then she can leave.” My son, Noah, sent a pouting emoji. My mom wrote: “I’ll make sure she leaves early after dinner. We still need to finalize our plans for the ski trip tomorrow.” Liam, my husband, who had supposedly just run to the grocery store to buy cooking wine, chimed in: “Sounds good. I’ll have her office call her in for an ’emergency overtime’ shift tomorrow morning.” Ethan liked Liam’s message: “Good thinking, bro. You got her that job, and it’s been five years, she still hasn’t caught on.” Five years. I had been called in for “emergency overtime” over two hundred times. It wasn’t that my company couldn’t function without me. It was my family, coordinating to exclude me. I scrolled up through the chat history. The group was created five years ago. They shared daily updates, inside jokes, and organized family vacations. I scrolled back to the year my postpartum depression was at its absolute worst. Noah was barely a month old. I suffered from severe insomnia, sitting by the window all night holding my crying baby. Their most frequent topic of discussion during that time was: “Chloe is being so dramatic. Keep her away from the baby, she’s going to ruin his mood.” And every time Mia sent a message, someone would inevitably reply: “I wish Mia was still living at home with us.” “Did you read it all?” My mom walked out of the kitchen, her face freezing when she saw me holding the iPad. I locked the screen, looked up, and asked, “Mom, am I your biological daughter?” She frowned, setting the plate of chicken on the dining table. “Mia moved out five years ago. What’s the point of digging up ancient history now?” I smiled, shaking my head, forcing the tears back down. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter anymore.” …… I turned and walked toward the storage room. She called out behind me, “Dinner is almost ready! Where are you going?” I started packing the few belongings I kept at this house into a small carry-on suitcase. There wasn’t much. One suitcase, and it wasn’t even full. I had lived in this windowless storage room for half my life. When we were kids, Mia complained she was a light sleeper, so my mom moved my bed into the storage room that very same day. When Mia finally moved out, I thought I could move back into a real bedroom. My mom said: “Keep that room empty. Mia might want to stay over when she visits.” It had been five years. Mia visited twice a year, staying two nights at most. Yet, my mom dusted that south-facing bedroom, opened the windows for fresh air, and changed the sheets every single day. My storage room had no windows, no lock on the door, and the lightbulb had been burnt out for three months. No one ever remembered to change it. I lived in this house for over twenty years, yet my presence mattered less than someone who visited for two nights a year. My mom pursed her lips tightly. “It’s just a group chat. Do you really need to throw a tantrum over this?” I pulled up the handle of my suitcase. “You think this is just about a group chat?” “What else is it? Yes, Mia went back to her biological family, but she still grew up in this house. What’s the big deal if she’s in a family group chat?” As she spoke, she seemed to regain her self-righteousness. “Look at you, throwing a fit the second you walk through the door. How are we supposed to function as a family if you act like this?” A family. Her definition of “family” had never included me. When we were kids, if Mia wanted something of mine, she just took it. My mom would say: You’re the older sister, be the bigger person. When Mia said she was a light sleeper, I was banished to the storage room. When Mia got accepted into college, my mom threw a massive, catered party for three days straight. When I was hospitalized with a bleeding ulcer, my mom told me over the phone that she was “too busy at home” to visit. I had tried fighting it. I had tried arguing. But every single time I stood up for myself, I was met with cold shoulders and looks of sheer disgust from the entire family. Seeing my silence, my mom frowned deeply. “You are the older sister. Can you stop being so petty?” “You’re right, I’m petty.” I started rolling my suitcase toward the front door. “I’m not eating dinner here tonight.” My mom lunged forward and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. “The whole family is waiting for dinner, and you’re just going to leave?! How is Mia going to feel?! She specifically told me to make your favorite dishes today!” I stopped in my tracks and looked back at the dining table. The table was overflowing. Eight dishes. Seven of them were heavily spiced, deep-fried, or covered in chili oil. Mia loved spicy food, and my mom remembered perfectly. A month ago, I had undergone a partial gastrectomy. The doctor’s post-op instructions were printed in bold black and white: Strictly avoid spicy and greasy foods. She remembered that Mia loved spicy chicken. She remembered that Mia hated cilantro. She remembered exactly what time Mia liked to go to bed. But she completely forgot that her biological daughter had half her stomach surgically removed just four weeks ago. “Mom, look at that table. Is there a single thing there I can actually eat?” The muscles in my mom’s face stiffened. It seemed she finally remembered. She looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. But her hand was still gripping my suitcase handle. “Let go.” Her fingers slowly uncurled, one by one. I dragged my suitcase to the entryway, practically colliding with Liam as he walked through the front door, holding a bottle of cooking wine. He looked at me, then at my mom, and his brow furrowed in instant annoyance. “Are you picking a fight with Mom again? She’s your mother, can’t you just…” “Enough,” I cut him off, dragging my suitcase past him. Behind me, I heard his lowered voice, speaking to my mom: “Just ignore her. It’s her usual dramatic act. She’ll get over it in a couple of days.” Chapter 2 Liam probably didn’t think I would actually leave. He chased me downstairs and grabbed my suitcase. “How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum? It’s not even a big deal, are you seriously going to do this?” Not a big deal. A family group chat they hid from me for five years wasn’t a big deal. Over two hundred manipulated “overtime” shifts wasn’t a big deal. Them casually discussing who would replace me while I suffered from severe postpartum depression wasn’t a big deal. I looked up at his face, and suddenly realized I was looking at a complete stranger. For the past five years, every time I had a conflict with my family, he always took their side. He told me to be the bigger person, to be understanding, to let it go. I used to rationalize it. I told myself he loved me, and because he loved me, he wanted me to have a good relationship with my family. Today, I finally saw the truth. It wasn’t that. He was exactly like them. Deep down, he genuinely believed that I was always the one in the wrong. From beginning to end, I was the only outsider. I didn’t argue with him. I pulled out my phone, found the divorce agreement I had drafted months ago, and forwarded it to his email. “I sent it to your email. Sign it.” He froze. “What?” I didn’t say another word. I opened the door of a waiting Uber and went back to our apartment. An hour later, Liam walked through the door. He smelled faintly of expensive perfume. I was sitting at the dining table, the printed divorce agreement resting in front of me. “Sign it.” He glanced at it, his brow furrowing in deep irritation. “You skipped dinner and ran all the way home just because of a stupid group chat?” He loosened his tie in frustration. “Fine, we messed up with the group chat. We’ll delete it. Are you happy now?” I let out a short, hollow laugh. The front door clicked open. Mia walked in, holding Noah’s hand. When she saw me, her face visibly paled. “Oh… sorry, Chloe, I didn’t know you were home.” Noah pulled his hand free and ran past her. “Mommy, don’t be mad at Auntie Mia! She pretended to be my mom at the parent-teacher conference on Monday, so I invited her over for dinner tonight. My teacher says we have to show gratitude.” I frowned, my chest tightening. “Parent-teacher conference last Monday?” Noah puffed his chest out proudly. “Yeah! Weren’t you working overtime? Uncle Ethan and Grandma went, and thank god Auntie Mia was there too, otherwise the other kids would have made fun of me for not having a mom.” I looked down at my phone. There had been zero notifications in the school’s parent portal last Monday. But my company’s management chat had suddenly reassigned me to a remote site inspection out in the suburbs that very morning. That was the day the mudslides hit. My car was crushed between two massive boulders. With the last 2% of my phone battery, I called Liam. He declined the call. I called my brother. He said he was busy volunteering for disaster relief in the next county and told me to “stop being so selfish.” I called my mom. She told me to “just find a place to hide and wait for rescue.” But during that brief phone call, I had clearly heard Liam’s voice in the background. I thought I had hallucinated it from the pain and blood loss. Noah pulled Mia over to my usual seat at the dining table and urged me: “Hurry up and go make dinner!” Mia stood up smoothly. “I’ll do it. I lost the instruction manual for the new kitchen appliances I bought you guys. I doubt Chloe knows how to use them anyway.” She opened the kitchen cabinets with practiced familiarity. The doorbell rang. A delivery driver handed over a package. Mia signed for it. Inside was a stunning, ice-jade bangle that my mom had worn for thirty years. When I got married, I asked about the bracelet, and my mom told me she had lost it. Mia smiled at me apologetically. “Mom must have put the wrong address down for my birthday present… Oh, I’m so sorry, Chloe. I’m just so used to calling her Mom.” Noah held up a handmade card. “Happy Birthday! Daddy got you a present too!” He covered his mouth and giggled, while Mia blushed and said thank you. I stood there, my breathing growing shallow. “It’s Chloe’s birthday today, too,” Mia suddenly said, looking at me. Noah looked genuinely confused. “But Daddy said Mommy doesn’t celebrate birthdays.” Liam avoided my eyes. “You said you hated the hassle, so I didn’t get you anything.” I had said I hated the hassle, because every year on my birthday, I was reminded that it was the day I was stolen from my real family. But they took “hating the hassle” as a free pass to completely ignore me. The doorbell rang again. It was a small, branded box from my favorite jewelry designer. The sender was my brother, Ethan. I gripped the box tightly. In the next second, Liam’s phone rang, and Ethan’s voice blared through the speaker. “Did Mia get the gift? Make sure you hide it from Chloe, otherwise she’s going to throw another jealous fit.” Liam glanced at me. “She’s right here.” The line went dead silent for two seconds before Ethan hung up. Liam’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “If you want something, I can have my assistant go buy you a gift right now.” “There’s no need.” “You’re the one who said you didn’t want to celebrate your birthday. Everyone respected your wishes, and now you’re throwing a tantrum over it?” He was gearing up for another lecture, but his eyes darted toward Mia. Mia took the hint, grabbing Noah’s hand and leading him toward the door. “Let’s go buy some juice, buddy.” The moment the door clicked shut, Liam exploded. “If you wanted a gift, why didn’t you just open your damn mouth and ask?! Do you think it’s fun making the whole family constantly guess what mood you’re in?!” I looked at him with absolute, terrifying calm. “So, did Mia have to ‘open her damn mouth’ to ask for that twenty-thousand-dollar holiday bonus?” Chapter 3 Liam’s face instantly went rigid. “How do you know about that? Are you auditing me?” I laughed. “Auditing you? I haven’t even mentioned how you’ve been manipulating my work schedule behind my back. That parent-teacher conference was a lie too, wasn’t it?” His fingers gripped the armrest of the sofa so tightly his knuckles turned white. “You drained twenty thousand dollars from our joint family account. That money was specifically saved to take Noah to Disney World for his birthday.” I thought I couldn’t feel pain anymore, but saying Noah’s name still made my throat tighten. Liam let out a heavy sigh, his tone softening slightly into a patronizing cadence. “I’ll just pay for Noah’s Disney trip out of my personal account. It’s not like we’re broke. Mia is your sister, what’s the big deal with giving her some money for the holidays?” He glanced at the wall clock. “Noah and Mia can’t wait out in the hall forever. Let’s just drop this for today. Stop causing a scene, I have a massive board meeting tomorrow morning.” I chuckled softly, reaching into my purse. I pulled out a printed bank transfer statement and slapped it onto the table. “Exactly how much money have you and my mother secretly siphoned from me? Do you even know whose name is on the receiving account my mom uses?” Liam’s face turned completely black. “You actually dug into her financials?” “I didn’t ‘dig’. I just wanted to know who has been feeding off my blood, sweat, and tears all these years.” From the day I was brought back to my biological family, I had never stopped working. My mom’s birthday parties, her medical bills, the renovations on their house—I paid for every single cent of it. Over the last five years, every dollar I earned went straight into our joint marital account. And now, Liam was taking my money and handing it to Mia, and to Mia’s adoptive mother. The woman who used to lock me in a woodshed for three days straight without food. The woman who left a row of permanent, raised burn scars on my back from a hot iron poker. Liam took a deep, irritated breath. “Isn’t your money my money? If it wasn’t for me, do you honestly think you would have even gotten that job?” He had no idea. When I accepted that job, the only reason I took it was because the office was a ten-minute commute from our apartment. To take that job, I declined an offer from a top-tier tech firm in Silicon Valley, which offered a starting salary thirty times what I was making now. “If you’re going to be this stingy over twenty grand, I’ll just transfer it back to you. Don’t make this uglier than it needs to be.” “You used my money to fund my abuser, and you’re telling me I’m making things ugly?” I picked up my phone and dialed the bank’s fraud department right in front of him. I barely got out the words, “I need to reverse an unauthorized wire transfer,” before Liam lunged forward and aggressively snatched the phone out of my hand, terminating the call. “That transfer was documented as a voluntary gift! You have no legal right to reverse it!” He roared, his face red, before quickly attempting to de-escalate. “Noah knows about that money. You’ve already lost one child, do you really want to alienate Noah too?” I stood frozen, a bone-chilling cold radiating through my entire body. Our first child was murdered by Mia. When I was six months pregnant, Mia, blinded by jealousy, intentionally rammed her car directly into me in a parking lot. My entire family begged me not to press charges. When I refused to drop it, they offered a compromise: they would permanently kick Mia out of the family. They swore to me, tears in their eyes, that from that day forward, I would be their only daughter. In the end, I was weak. I caved. And on the very night they formally “kicked her out,” they created that secret group chat. Perhaps noticing how dangerously pale my face had become, Liam softened his voice. “I didn’t mean it like that. We’ll delete the group chat. We’ll all just take a step back, okay?” “That twenty thousand dollars doesn’t belong to ‘we’,” I stared at him. “It’s the money I earned myself. It’s the money I saved up after I was finally brought back to my real family.” “I said I’ll pay you back.” “When Mia killed our first baby, you said you’d ‘make it up to me.’ Is this how you make it up to me? By moving her into my house behind my back and letting her raise my son?” Liam’s expression turned as cold as ice. “Are you absolutely determined to scorch the earth today?” I looked at him. I didn’t say a word. He snatched the divorce agreement off the table, barely glancing at the terms. “If you really want to blow up our lives, I have no problem signing this right now.” Chapter 4 I looked at him with a faint, mocking smile. “Finally dropping the act?” Liam looked utterly exasperated. He slammed the divorce agreement back onto the table. “This is your absolute last warning.” My heart was terrifyingly calm. I knew it was truly over. I clicked the pen open and pushed it toward him. “Sign.” He didn’t take it. He let out a harsh scoff. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You’re only acting this arrogant because you think you have leverage over me with Noah.” I didn’t respond, and I didn’t look at him. Him and my son. I didn’t want either of them anymore. The next day, I went into the office to process my resignation. The hallway was a disaster zone. My notebooks, my favorite coffee mug, and the pothos plant I had kept alive for three years were scattered across the floor. My project binders had muddy footprints stamped over them. The receptionist shrank back into her corner, terrified to make eye contact with me. Behind the glass walls of the conference room, Mia was sitting comfortably at my desk. A group of coworkers surrounded her, laughing and kissing up. I clearly heard someone call her “Mrs. CEO.” She saw me, stood up, and strolled over. “Oh, hey Chloe. Liam said you didn’t want to work here anymore, so I’m taking over your position.” Just then, my mom and my brother walked out of the elevator, carrying stacked lunch containers. Mia practically skipped over to take them. “Home-cooked meals from family are the best! Takeout is basically poison.” I stood in the hallway, a memory from a few years ago flashing in my mind. On my third day back at work after my miscarriage, I had ordered a simple chicken soup delivery. It arrived heavily garnished with cilantro and green onions, which the doctor strictly forbade me from eating while on my medication. I managed two bites before throwing it away, and starved for the rest of the afternoon. That exact same day, my mom had asked the secret group chat what kind of soup Mia was craving, and personally delivered a slow-simmered herbal stew to her apartment. It was only then that my mom and brother noticed me standing there. Ethan’s face darkened immediately. “You ran off yesterday without a word, who exactly are you trying to punish?” My mom sighed and walked toward me. “Are you throwing a fit because we didn’t make your favorite food? Just text me a menu next time, and I’ll make it for you.” Mia looked down at the insulated lunch bag in her hands, then walked over and held it out to me. “Here, Chloe, you can have this. I’ll just order DoorDash.” Ethan frowned. “Mom made that specifically for you.” Mia insisted, trying to shove the bag into my hands. My fingers hadn’t even brushed the handles when she suddenly let go. The container popped open, and scalding hot soup splashed all over the front of her silk blouse. She let out a piercing shriek. Liam just happened to walk out of an office at that exact moment. Seeing the scene, he charged forward like a bull, violently shoving me aside to scoop Mia into his arms. The back of my head slammed brutally into the sharp corner of a desk. My vision went completely black for a second, and I felt something warm and wet sliding down my neck. Liam didn’t even glance back. He carried Mia in his arms and sprinted toward the elevators. Ethan chased after them, stopping just long enough to spit an insult at me. “What the hell is wrong with you?! What did she ever do to you?!” My mom didn’t even turn her head as she hurried toward the elevator. “If you have a problem with me, take it out on me! Why are you attacking her?!” I gripped the edge of the desk and forced myself to stand up. The back of my head was throbbing with a sharp, pulsing agony. I wiped my neck; my hand came away slick with dark red blood. The surrounding coworkers scattered, keeping their heads down. I heard someone click their tongue, and another mutter, “Serves her right.” I walked over to my computer, intending to transfer the master files for the core tech project I had been building for the last year and a half. The designated folders were entirely empty. Even the recycle bin had been permanently purged. Mia hadn’t logged out of her WhatsApp on her computer. A voice message notification popped up on the screen. My hand hovered over the mouse for a second, then I clicked play. Noah’s voice filled the air. “Mommy hurt Auntie Mia again today. I never want to call her Mommy ever again.” Followed immediately by Liam’s voice: “She was never your real mom anyway, buddy.” Then my brother’s voice chimed in: “After Chloe’s miscarriage, she couldn’t get pregnant again, so they did IVF. The donor egg was Mia’s.” My fingers began to tremble violently. I gripped the mouse so hard my knuckles turned bone white. No wonder Mia always crouched down to whisper secrets in Noah’s ear. No wonder Noah always said “Auntie Mia is so much nicer than my real mom.” No wonder Liam’s go-to excuse was always “You have to be more understanding for the kid’s sake.” So everyone was actively paving the way. Building Mia up as his biological, true mother, and reducing me to the temporary “fake” mom. I was nothing but a surrogate incubator. A young HR intern walked over holding a cardboard banker’s box, carefully placing it at my feet. “Chloe… HR said your exit paperwork has already been processed by Mr. Vance. You don’t need to sign anything.” I looked down at the box. My pothos plant was shoved inside, its broken vines drooping sadly over the cardboard edge. I bent down to adjust it. A heavy drop of blood fell from the back of my head onto the cardboard, blooming into a dark, rusty stain. I picked up the box and walked out. The midday sun was blinding, glaring harshly off the glass skyscrapers. I stood in the middle of that blinding white light, freezing cold to my core. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I had saved years ago. “I accept your offer. I’m moving overseas to join your team.”

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The power suddenly went out on our wedding night. My wife, claiming she was drunk and disoriented, accidentally wandered into my cousin’s bedroom. When we woke up the next morning, we heard a scream coming from his room. Still half-asleep, we rushed over. What we saw was my wife and my cousin, completely naked, hiding under his duvet. Everyone was shocked. It was painfully obvious what had happened between them. My mother, terrified of a public scandal, pulled me aside and begged me to swallow my pride and endure it. “Liam, since the damage is already done, the only thing you can do now is accept it and face reality.” I couldn’t forget it. I couldn’t accept it. I started avoiding both of them, hiding from the situation. Chloe tried everything she could to make it up to me, but I rejected her every time. It wasn’t until she got into a car accident that I finally panicked and rushed to the hospital. But as I stood outside her hospital room door, I heard voices. “Chloe, you’re a genius,” a female voice said. “You intentionally got Liam drunk that night, then flipped the breaker box so you’d have an excuse to play with David until sunrise.” “Even this car accident is completely fake.” “If I didn’t do this, Liam would never forgive me,” Chloe’s voice replied smoothly. “Besides, Liam’s mother was the one who actually flipped the breaker.” “She wanted to help her older brother’s bloodline continue, and I wanted a taste of David’s six-pack, so we came to a mutual agreement.” … “Holy shit! I almost feel bad for Liam.” “It’s bad enough that his best friend and his wife betrayed him, but his own mother was in on it?!” “But what I really want to know is… why?” Chloe’s friends looked at her, their eyes burning with morbid curiosity. Sitting in her hospital bed, Chloe’s cheeks were flushed, her skin glowing like a perfectly ripe rose. Was the guilt-ridden, anxious expression she constantly wore in front of me entirely an act? If she hadn’t been thoroughly ‘satisfied’ by another man, she wouldn’t be glowing like that right now. “Didn’t I already tell you guys?” Chloe laughed lightly. “David is the son of Liam’s mother’s oldest brother. Her brother passed away recently, and his dying wish was for David to carry on the family bloodline.” “Liam’s mother loves her brother more than anything, so she was more than happy to help David and me out.” “You guys know I used to have a massive crush on David. Even though things didn’t work out between us before, getting to experience his incredible body… I can die with zero regrets.” Standing outside the door, it felt like someone had violently hollowed out my soul. My mind went completely blank. So that night… she intentionally got me drunk. And because the power was out and I couldn’t see clearly, I had just safely passed out in our bed. I never imagined the entire thing was a meticulously choreographed setup. A sharp, stabbing pain ripped through my chest. Breathing became incredibly difficult. I reached out and grabbed the doorframe just to keep myself from collapsing. “Hearing you say all that… I honestly don’t even know what to say.” “This is insane. It’s like something out of a soap opera.” “Before we got here… did your precious David come for round two?” Chloe let out a coquettish giggle, choosing not to answer. Her silence was an admission. No wonder her face was glowing so beautifully. I felt like I had just been slapped across the face, yet I had no idea how to hit back. “Chloe!” One of her friends finally felt compelled to give her a reality check. “What?” “Your situation right now is a complete mess.” “You are Liam’s legal wife, but you’re doing this with his cousin. If this gets out…” “Do you care about your reputation at all?” “Furthermore, if you are actually pregnant with David’s child, there is no way Liam is going to accept that.” “So your best option right now is to divorce Liam, and go marry David so everything is legal and above board.” Her friend’s words made Chloe pause and think. Then, she looked up, her tone more resolute than I had ever heard it. “I am not giving up Liam. Because the only person who will ever love me that unconditionally is him.” “I can divorce him temporarily. And then, once I have the baby, I’ll just win him back and we can reconcile.” Chapter 2 “That’s impossible.” “There’s no way Liam is going to agree to that.” “He won’t agree to me, but he will absolutely agree to his mother.” Chloe said confidently. “Because blood is thicker than water. She’ll force him to bow his head.” “As for me, when the time comes to win him back, I’ll be so persistent he’ll be moved to tears and accept me again.” “Liam really is blinded by love. He deserves to wear the crown of the ultimate cuckold.” “Wrong.” Chloe corrected them. “He is only like that with me. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t tolerate it.” Chloe swore up and down, incredibly confident, having absolutely no idea that I had just heard every single filthy secret. I silently pulled my wedding ring off my finger. As I walked past a trash can in the hallway, I threw it directly inside. David was walking toward me carrying a mango cake. As we crossed paths, he abruptly stopped. “Liam, are you here to see Chloe?” Hearing that intimate nickname… if I hadn’t just uncovered their disgusting secret, it would have made my skin crawl even more. “Something came up at work. I can’t stay. Just tell her I stopped by.” “Does this mean you finally forgive us?!” David’s face lit up. “This is amazing. Chloe is going to be so happy when I tell her.” A cold, sarcastic smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. I didn’t stay a second longer. Once I stepped out of the hospital doors, I pulled out my phone and dialed my boss’s number. “Sarah? You mentioned the company had an overseas project opening up?” “I changed my mind. I want to take it.” “Are you sure?” “The contract requires you to be abroad for three years. Didn’t you specifically say you couldn’t take assignments that took you too far from home?” In the past, I really did think being too far from home was a bad idea. I was afraid there would be no one to take care of my mother, and I was terrified Chloe would be angry. But now, knowing that the two women I prioritized most had conspired to absolutely destroy me, my mind was fractured. I had to make a decision. From this moment on, my career was my only objective. Everything else was dead to me. “My home is suffocating me.” When I said that, my voice cracked, heavy with emotion. Sarah definitely heard it. She was a smart, empathetic woman. She knew exactly what to ask and what to leave alone. “Submit my name for the project. I absolutely have to go.” “Alright,” Sarah replied softly. “Take care of yourself, Liam.” After I hung up the phone, I finally noticed a string of transaction alerts lighting up my lock screen. My entire life savings totaled three hundred thousand dollars. In a single instant, two hundred and fifty thousand had been withdrawn. I immediately dialed my mother’s number. She was the only other person who had access to that card. “What exactly did you just buy to instantly wipe two hundred and fifty thousand dollars from my account?!” Knowing the truth about what she had done, my tone was completely devoid of respect. My mother definitely sensed my anger, but she clearly felt she had done absolutely nothing wrong. “I had my reasons for spending it.” “Do you really need to be this furious? When you were a little boy, you promised me.” “You promised you would make lots of money for me to spend.” “I only spent two hundred and fifty thousand, and you’re already throwing a fit?” Her tone was so incredibly casual. Only two hundred and fifty thousand? For normal, working-class people like us, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars is a lifetime of savings. “I used it to buy a condo. David said he wanted to buy a place to rent out for passive income.” “Isn’t that exactly what you want for him too?” “The condo was bought, but he still needed money for furniture, so I helped him pick some things out.” Before I could even respond, she angrily hung up the phone. I rushed to the nearest bank branch, formally reported the card as stolen to freeze the account, and then immediately withdrew the remaining fifty thousand dollars in cash, rendering the account permanently dead. I am a good son. But I am not an idiot. Why the hell should David use my debit card to buy a condo? My money didn’t fall from the sky. He stole Chloe from me, and now he wants my money too? Less than an hour later, my phone rang. It was my mother. “Liam, you really have some nerve.” “Why the hell did you freeze my card?! David and I just ate at a restaurant and now we have no money to pay the bill!” Chapter 3 “Hurry up and transfer the money to me.” “I am under absolutely zero obligation to transfer you another dime. You two ate the food, not me.” “Furthermore, isn’t David right there? He’s a thirty-year-old grown man. Surely he isn’t so pathetic that he can’t afford a single meal!” “You… you ungrateful little bastard…” There was absolutely no reason to continue this toxic, miserable conversation. I hung up the phone directly. A bitter ache bloomed in my chest. Despite my best efforts, my mood was heavily impacted. And the ugly, traumatic memories of the past flooded back into my mind. My mother, desperately trying to help her beloved older brother, had recklessly drained the savings my father had worked himself to the bone to accumulate. When they eventually had a massive fight about it, my mother ran away from home. Her family showed up at our house, cornering my father, screaming at him and accusing him of abuse, leaving him completely unable to defend himself. Later, my father, working ungodly amounts of overtime to recover the lost money, died of a sudden heart attack on his way home from work. I was still young then. I didn’t understand how a healthy man with no illnesses could just suddenly drop dead. It wasn’t until I became an adult that I finally understood. Years later, my uncle passed away, and my mother brought David to live with us. She forced me to constantly yield to David. During the holidays, David got brand-new clothes, while I was forced to wear faded, hand-me-down shirts. When it was time for college, she only paid for David’s tuition, forcing me to drop out and get a job. Fortunately, my grades were excellent, and I managed to secure enough scholarships and grants to finish my degree. Looking back on it now, I should have cut ties with my mother a very long time ago. When I got home, there were three people waiting for me in the living room. Not because they were worried about me, but because they were ready to interrogate me. My mother picked up a heavy ceramic teacup from the coffee table and hurled it directly at my head. “So you finally decided to come back?!” “Do you have any idea how completely humiliated I was today?!” “My friends from my book club were sitting at the very next table! You suddenly freezing my card and leaving me unable to pay the bill made me a laughingstock in front of all of them!” I was done playing the role of the patient, understanding son. I raised my hand and pointed directly at David. “Let me ask you something. Is he a legal adult?” David instantly jumped up from the sofa. “Liam, what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I turned and glared at him. “You are a fully grown adult man, and you sat there while an elderly woman paid for your meal? And you have the audacity to act like you’re the victim here?” “I don’t care to waste any more words on you people. I’m only going to say this one last time.” “From this moment forward, I will not give you another dime, and I will not lift a finger to help you.” I turned back to my mother, her face dark with fury. “If you have a problem with that, we can legally sever our relationship right now.” Chloe and David were stunned. They never imagined I would actually threaten something as severe as severing ties with my own mother. “Liam, it was just asking you to pay for a meal! Do you really need to threaten your own mother with cutting ties?” “Hurry up and apologize to her…” “Do you honestly think I’m this angry over the price of one meal?” It was the decades of blatant, suffocating favoritism. And the fact that she nearly maxed out my entire life savings today to buy David a condo. David quickly stepped between me and my mother, his face a mask of perfectly crafted guilt. “Auntie, Liam, please stop fighting.” “I think Liam is right. I’ll be more mindful in the future.” My mother looked at David with absolute admiration. It was always like this in the past. Whether he was right or wrong, as long as he lowered his head and offered a fake apology, my mother would praise him for being so mature and understanding. Meanwhile, my “maturity” was entirely predicated on how much money I provided. I finally understood. No matter how perfect I tried to be, it would never compare to a single, manipulative sentence from David. “Liam, because of David’s intercession today, I will forgive you this one time.” “Get the hell back to your room.” “I can go back to my room right now. But first, I want the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars you stole from me returned immediately.” “If you do not return the money, I will call the police.” After saying that, I didn’t speak another word. Holding the black duffel bag containing my remaining fifty thousand dollars, I walked silently back to my bedroom. Chapter 4 My mother completely exploded. She rushed to my bedroom door, kicking and screaming at the wood. “Liam, I am your biological mother!” “If you call the cops on me, you’re going to burn in hell!” I felt absolutely zero emotion. My only focus was taking the stacks of cash from my duffel bag and locking them securely inside my personal safe. Unexpectedly, Chloe suddenly pushed the door open and walked in. “Liam, what is going on with you today?” “You used to be so filial, and you always cared about me so much.” “Look at me. I was in a car accident and injured my leg, and you didn’t even come to the hospital to check on me.” Her tone was overflowing with manufactured grievance. “Were you actually injured in a car accident?” I stared at her with a freezing, dead smile. When she saw the absolute lack of emotion in my eyes, she visibly panicked. “Why… why are you asking me that? Of course I was genuinely injured.” “Chloe.” I raised my voice, shattering her composure. “I did go to the hospital to see you that day. But I never walked into the room. Do you want to know why?” She didn’t answer. She just started trembling slightly, realizing that my eyes had already seen straight through her lies. Seeing her silence, I spoke coldly. “Because I stood outside your hospital room door and heard your dirty little secret.” “On our wedding night, you intentionally got me drunk. My mother flipped the breaker box so you and David would have the perfect excuse to hook up.” “And I bet you’re already pregnant with his child.” “Am I right?” Chloe was instantly paralyzed with shock. My mother and David, who were standing in the hallway, also froze in absolute panic. Chloe’s eyes widened in horror, staring at me, completely unable to form a defense. David was the first to speak. “Liam, we… it’s not what you think…” But he couldn’t even figure out what kind of lie to spin to finish the sentence. My mother, on the other hand, suddenly went dead quiet and turned around to walk away. This triggered a deep, unsettling premonition in my gut. Chloe reached out to grab my arm, but I violently shoved her away. “Don’t touch me!” “Liam, please, just listen to me…” Just as I was about to speak, the sound of shattering glass echoed from the living room. “Auntie, don’t smash that! That’s Uncle’s memorial portrait… Oh my god, don’t burn it!” “David, get out of my way! That old bastard died the easy way, leaving me to raise this ungrateful little shit all by myself!” “And now he won’t even listen to me!” I sprinted out of the bedroom. When I saw my mother standing on the balcony, actively burning my father’s final belongings in a metal fire pit, pure panic finally hit me. “What the hell are you doing?!” “Stop right now!” She was holding my father’s only remaining photograph. If she opened her fingers even a fraction of an inch, the photo would drop straight into the flames. “Seeing you panic like this just proves that a dead man is always more useful than a living one.” My face flushed dark red with rage, but I couldn’t risk lunging forward to grab it, terrified the photo would fall into the fire in the struggle. “Tell me. Why are you burning my father’s things?” “Because you’re disobedient. Because you refuse to be a dutiful son to your mother.” What exactly did I have to do to be considered ‘obedient’ and ‘dutiful’? Did I have to become a soulless, emotionless robot, blindly following her every command? Suddenly, I remembered the conversation Chloe had in her hospital room. The look in my eyes instantly turned to ice. “Just say it. What do you want me to do?” “I want you to go to the courthouse with Chloe immediately and file for divorce. That way, the child in her stomach won’t be considered illegitimate.” “I don’t want people whispering behind my back.” She was using my father’s final, sacred belongings to blackmail me into this? I turned and looked at Chloe, who was standing in silence. “And you? Is this what you want too?” “Liam, if you just follow these arrangements for now, once I have the baby, we can…” “Save it.” “I accept your terms.”

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While I was trying on my wedding dress, Carter’s best friend suddenly tagged me in their private group chat. “Future Mrs. Sterling, the invitations are going out the day after tomorrow. Have you still not noticed that the bride’s name isn’t yours?” I stared at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, draped in pristine white lace, my mind going completely blank for a second. The next moment, an audio message from Carter’s childhood friend popped up in the chat: “I made a bet with Carter. I bet that you wouldn’t even notice he changed the bride’s name to Chloe until the invitation was physically in your hands.” “Come on, Nora, you’re way too laid back. Tell Carter to change it back right now, otherwise, is this wedding even happening?” I slowly unzipped the wedding dress and stepped out of it, a sudden, violent chill washing over me. Chloe Vance was Carter’s first love. She was the untouchable golden girl of their elite social circle. But marrying me was a promise Carter had made voluntarily, swearing an oath in front of both our families. Yet, during the entire wedding planning process, they had been using my bottom line as a casual betting chip. “Carter, that’s so messed up. I bet when she finds out, she’s gonna cry and beg you.” “I bet she won’t even dare to throw a tantrum. Whoever loses foots the bill for next month’s yacht party in Miami.” A notification from my ‘Favorites’ list popped up at the top of my screen. Chloe had just posted a carousel of photos wearing a limited-edition haute couture wedding gown. [Huge thanks to a certain someone for staying up three nights and pulling strings to borrow this Dream Dress for me. You made my ultimate dream come true! ~] In the comments, Carter had replied with a single red heart emoji. I calmly double-tapped to like her post. Then, I permanently deleted the wedding planning group chat and booked a one-way train ticket to the Rocky Mountains. The wedding was off. Going to the mountains to feel the freezing wind and clear my eyes sounded like a much better plan. …… The cold LED lights of the bridal boutique reflected off the mirrors as I carefully gathered the skirt of the dress and handed it back to the attendant. The attendant hurried after me with a measuring tape, smiling brightly. “Ms. Hayes, should we take the waist in another half-inch? Mr. Sterling said he wants the wedding to be absolutely perfect.” I looked at the white tulle in her hands, my tone flat: “No need to alter it. The wedding is canceled. Give this dress to your next client.” The attendant froze, clutching the contract as she chased me to the door. “Ms. Hayes, if you cancel now, the fitting fees and the deposit are non-refundable.” I pulled my credit card from my purse and pressed it against the receipt pad. “Deduct whatever penalty fees apply. Do not contact Carter Sterling again, and do not contact my parents.” As I walked out of the boutique, the midday sun was so bright it made my vision blur white. My phone was buzzing with texts from the wedding planner asking about the color palette for the floral wall. I leaned against the street barricade and systematically canceled the hotel, the makeup artist, the catering, and the luxury car convoy. Thirty thousand dollars in cancellation fees were instantly wiped from my account. The wedding planner sounded hesitant on the phone: “Ms. Hayes, does Mr. Sterling know about this? This morning he told us to change the bride’s name placards to Ms. Vance. He said it was just an inside joke.” I stared at the ‘Payment Successful’ notification on my screen and said softly, “He likes to play jokes. Let him host his own wedding.” A call from my mother forced its way through. I could hear the laughter of her friends in the background. She lowered her voice, but couldn’t hide her absolute elation: “Nora, honey, Carter just had his assistant deliver a massive gift basket with imported truffles and vintage wine. All the neighbors are so jealous of your luck.” “He promised to give you the grandest wedding in the city. Stop being so stubborn. Men in his position have to socialize, just endure it and it’ll pass.” I asked her: “Mom, what if the bride’s name on the invitation isn’t me?” My mother paused, her voice instantly dropping an octave. “Stop talking nonsense. A man of Carter’s stature being willing to marry you is a blessing. Don’t you dare make things ugly for both our families over some petty grievance.” I let out a short laugh. “Understood. Enjoy the wine.” After hanging up, I dialed Carter’s number. The second it connected, Chloe’s soft, breathy giggle drifted through the speaker. Someone in the background teased: “Ooh, Carter, the fiancée is checking in! Better coax her, or you might not have a wedding to go to.” Carter’s voice came through the receiver, lazy and dripping with impatience: “Nora, what is your problem now?” Chapter 2 I watched the traffic rushing past the intersection and asked him, “Is betting on the name printed on our wedding invitations fun?” The line went quiet for a split second, followed quickly by the clinking of cocktail glasses. Carter sounded like he was smiling. “They haven’t even been sent to the printers yet. We’ll just change it back tomorrow. Chloe just moved back to the States, everyone was just trying to cheer her up.” I said, “So my dignity is just a bargaining chip to make her smile?” Carter clicked his tongue in annoyance. “You’re about to be Mrs. Sterling. Can’t you be a little generous? Chloe has a chronic illness. She just wanted to experience wearing a wedding dress once to fulfill a lifelong dream.” Chloe’s voice chimed in softly near the receiver: “Carter, please don’t fight with Nora because of me. I’ll just take the dress off and give it back to her.” Carter’s tone immediately softened into velvet. “It has nothing to do with you. She’s just been throwing tantrums lately.” I looked down and saw that Chloe had updated her Instagram story again. It was a picture of two movie tickets, resting next to Carter’s hand casually draped over a steering wheel. On his wrist was the Cartier watch I had bought him. I had worked double shifts at the animal shelter and taken on random freelance gigs, staying up until dawn for six months to afford it. Her caption read: [For all the days to come, I’m so grateful to have you as my safety net.] When Carter spoke to me again, whatever patience he had was completely gone. “Nora, can you stop being such a buzzkill? Are you psycho?” The call disconnected. I stood at the corner of the busy street and hit ‘Select All’ on the shared cloud album we had built over the last three years, permanently deleting every single photo. My phone vibrated again. Carter had just sent me $5,200 via Venmo. The memo read: “Buy a purse. Stop making a scene.” I stood in front of the subway turnstiles, declined the transfer, and set Carter’s contact to ‘Do Not Disturb’. He immediately sent a follow-up text: “Nora, enough is enough. I’m giving you an out, take it. Don’t wait until I completely lose my patience.” I scoffed coldly and didn’t reply. That evening, I returned to our newly renovated penthouse to pack my things. As I was filling cardboard boxes in the corner of the living room, I pulled my animal shelter ID badge from my pocket and tossed it into the trash. Last week, Carter’s mother had sneered, “A Sterling daughter-in-law spending all day rolling around in the dirt with stray animals is far too low-class.” To appease her, I had submitted my resignation to the shelter director. Looking back now, it was utterly pathetic. As I bent down to find the packing tape, a FaceTime call from Carter popped up. I hit accept. The screen showed the warm, ambient lighting of a high-end, luxury pet boutique. Chloe was standing next to him, holding a purebred Ragdoll kitten. Carter was holding a bag of imported cat food, his brow furrowed deeply. “Why didn’t you accept the money?” I ripped a piece of packing tape. “Don’t need it.” Carter’s voice turned icy. “You don’t need it? Your pathetic shelter salary isn’t even enough to cover the wedding cancellation fees. Stop trying to spite me just to make yourself look miserable.” Chloe leaned closer to the camera, her eyes rimmed with red, executing the perfect victim act. “Nora, are you mad at Carter because I tried on your wedding dress yesterday?” I stared at the kitten in her arms and offered a quiet piece of advice. “There is dark discharge in that kitten’s ears. It looks like a severe ear mite infection. You shouldn’t just focus on taking cute pictures; take it to a vet immediately.” Chloe’s expression stiffened awkwardly. Carter immediately stepped in front of the camera, blocking her. “Can you stop talking to people using the same tone you use to train animals?” My hand, holding the tape dispenser, froze. He used to tell me that his absolute favorite thing in the world was watching me treat injured animals. He used to say that when I was focused on healing them, I practically glowed. Chloe bit her lip. “It’s all my fault. My health is so bad, and I just had this obsessive dream of wearing a wedding dress. I’ll delete the photos right now.” Carter wrapped an arm around her shoulder, his tone dropping to a gentle whisper. “Why would you delete them? You did nothing wrong.” When he turned his attention back to me, the ice returned. “Nora, look at how understanding Chloe is, and look at yourself. Being this petty and vindictive is just exhausting.” I folded the flaps of the cardboard box shut. “You two are perfect for each other.” Carter looked like he didn’t quite process the finality of my words. He stayed silent for two seconds before letting out a dry laugh. “Fine, keep playing the martyr. I’ll have my assistant reprint the invitations tomorrow.” I hung up the video call. Immediately, a new notification popped up from the Sterling family group chat. Chapter 3 Carter’s mother had posted a collage of nine photos. The caption read: “Finally got to meet the Ms. Vance that Carter is always talking about. So elegant and well-mannered. No wonder everyone adores her.” The photos were from an exclusive, private country club brunch. Chloe was sitting right next to Mrs. Sterling, and Carter was caught mid-frame, leaning over to serve Chloe a piece of shrimp dumpling. Mrs. Sterling quickly sent me a private message: “Nora, Ms. Vance traveled a long way to move back here, so we’re just showing her some hospitality. Don’t overthink it. A Sterling wife needs to be gracious and open-minded.” I replied: “Mrs. Sterling, Carter and I have broken up. The wedding is permanently canceled.” Mrs. Sterling called me immediately, her voice sharp and agitated. “What is wrong with you?! Carter was willing to settle down and marry you. That alone gave you more prestige than you could ever earn yourself.” I put the phone on the coffee table on speaker and continued sealing my moving boxes. She pressed on, suppressing her temper. “Chloe was Carter’s youthful regret. It’s completely normal for a successful man to have a little lingering nostalgia. If you hold on too tightly, you’ll only push him further away.” I said, “Then consider him pushed.” The other end of the line was quiet for a moment before Mrs. Sterling let out a cold, venomous laugh. “Don’t come crying to me when you regret this. Your family accepted a massive amount of gifts from us. If you actually try to blow this up, the Sterlings won’t be the ones looking desperate and poor.” I hung up. I gathered every single stuffed animal, matching couple’s mug, and photo album Carter had ever given me and shoved them into heavy-duty trash bags. At the very bottom of my closet lay a half-finished gray sweater. I had been knitting it for Carter. He had poor circulation and his hands were always freezing in the winter. I pulled the yarn, unraveling the stitches. The gray thread pooled in circles at my feet, much like the boundaries I had repeatedly surrendered over the last three years. The local junk removal service arrived twenty minutes later. The guy hoisted the heavy bags over his shoulder and asked, “Miss, you sure you want all this thrown out?” I nodded. “I don’t want any of it. Please make sure it’s disposed of.” The sprawling penthouse slowly emptied out, leaving only the set of spare keys hanging on the console by the front door. Suddenly, the electronic lock chimed twice. The heavy door was pushed open from the outside, and Carter stood in the entryway, rolling two matching pink designer suitcases. He swept his gaze over the barren living room and frowned at me. “Why does the place look so empty?” Chloe peeked out from behind him, still holding that Ragdoll cat. Her voice was timid. “Nora, is it inconvenient for me to be here?” Carter pushed the suitcases inside, speaking as if he owned the world. “The pipes burst in the apartment she was renting. It’s not safe for a single woman to stay in a hotel alone, so she’s going to crash here for a few days.” I asked, “Which room is she staying in?” Carter pushed the pink suitcases directly toward the master suite. “Chloe has trouble sleeping in new places. She’ll take the master bedroom. You can go clean up the guest room.” Chloe quickly grabbed his sleeve. “Carter, don’t do this. Nora will be upset. I can just sleep on the couch, really.” Carter looked down at her tenderly. “Your health is fragile. I’m not letting you suffer.” He looked back up at me, his eyes cold and detached. “You’re going to be the lady of this house eventually anyway. Can’t you just be generous for a few days?” “This isn’t my house.” Carter’s brow relaxed slightly. “Good, you remember. I paid for this penthouse. Just because you picked out a few pieces of furniture doesn’t mean you get to make the rules.” I reached out and took the spare keys off the console hook. The metal was freezing against my palm. Chloe whispered, “Nora, please don’t misunderstand. Carter is just worried something might happen to me. Deep down, you’re the one he values most.” I looked at her. “Those movie tickets you posted last night. Was the movie any good?” Chloe’s eyes darted away in panic. Carter stepped protectively in front of her. “Are you ever going to stop? What exactly does Chloe owe you?” I said, “She doesn’t owe me anything. You do.” Carter stared at me, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Here we go again. Nora, every time you’re slightly inconvenienced, you threaten to break up to scare me. Is it fun?” I pulled out the sleek black suitcase I had packed hours ago. The wheels rolled smoothly across the hardwood, making a quiet, final sound. The smirk on Carter’s face vanished. “Where are you going?” I changed my shoes at the entryway, my voice perfectly level. “You don’t need to bother cleaning the guest room. I’m leaving this house for you two to enjoy. Carter, we are officially done.” Chapter 4 Chloe’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “Nora, it’s all my fault. I’ll leave right now! Please don’t joke about canceling your wedding.” But Carter reached out and blocked her, his eyes turning glacial. “Let her go.” He leaned against the doorframe, visibly suppressing his fury. “If you walk out that door today, do not expect me to come running after you. If you come back within three days and apologize, I might pretend this never happened.” I pulled the door open. Carter added, “Nora, I am not going to cover for you with your parents this time. When they start asking questions, you explain it to them yourself.” My footsteps halted for half a second. For three years, my mother had bragged to anyone who would listen about how well I was marrying. My father would hand out the expensive cigars and imported liquor the Sterlings sent, his face flushed with pride around our relatives. Carter knew how terrified I was of disappointing them, so he always knew exactly where to press to make it hurt. Chloe delivered the final, soft blow: “Nora, your parents adore Carter. You’re being incredibly reckless and immature.” I looked back at Carter. “Changing the name on the wedding invitations, bringing her to meet your parents, and giving her our master bedroom… was that me being immature, too?” Carter was silent for a moment, his arrogance quickly returning. “We can discuss those things later. Stop standing in the doorway putting on a performance.” I placed the spare keys down on the shoe cabinet. Carter finally noticed, and his brow twitched imperceptibly. “You’re leaving those behind too?” I said, “You just reminded me that you paid for this penthouse. Since another woman is already sleeping in the master bed, it’s highly inappropriate for me to hold onto these keys.” His face darkened instantly. “Nora, do you really have to burn every bridge?” I didn’t answer. I pulled my suitcase out and walked into the elevator. Just before the doors closed, Carter’s voice echoed into the hall: “Nora! Once you walk out, don’t ever come begging me to let you back in!” As the elevator descended, I tossed my RFID building access card into the trash can. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Sarah, the director of the animal shelter. “Nora, a Nat Geo documentary crew is coming tomorrow to shoot some public service footage. Could you possibly help out for one last day before your resignation is finalized? They mentioned they’re looking for a wilderness medical consultant for a high-altitude expedition, and I think you’d be perfect for it.” I texted back: “I’ll be there.” The moment my screen went dark, Chloe’s Instagram refreshed. She was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of my master bedroom. The caption read: “After wandering for so long, I’m finally back in the place where I feel the most safe.” Early the next morning, I took my suitcase with me to the animal shelter. After changing into my scrubs, the familiar, sharp scent of veterinary disinfectant washed over me. I was adjusting the heat lamp for a stray dog recovering from surgery when a loud commotion erupted in the courtyard. Sarah walked into the treatment room, wiping her hands, her face tight. “Nora, the Nat Geo crew was supposed to be the only ones filming today, but Chloe Vance just showed up with her own PR team and hijacked the shoot.” My fingers paused. “Who authorized that?” Sarah lowered her voice. “Our corporate sponsors made a last-minute call. They said she needs to establish a ‘caring’ public persona, and Carter Sterling is with her. The Nat Geo director, Declan Pierce, is absolutely furious. He’s standing on the sidelines with his cameras, just glaring at them.” I walked out to the courtyard. Chloe was wearing a pristine white dress, standing in front of the kennels while her camera crew circled her. She leaned down, trying to pick up a small yellow lab mix that had just been neutered. I immediately stepped forward and held the cage door shut. “He’s less than twenty-four hours post-op. You cannot pick him up.” Chloe looked up at me, smiling innocently. “Nora, I just want everyone to see how cute he is! If people fall in love with him, they’ll donate more money to the shelter, right?” Carter, standing just out of frame, frowned. “Nora, don’t make this ugly in front of everyone.” I stared directly into his eyes. “His incision hasn’t healed. If his sutures tear, who is going to take responsibility?” Chloe lowered her eyes, looking hurt. “Carter, let’s just forget it. Nora is probably still mad at me.” The PR team members started whispering loudly enough to be heard. “That vet is such a bitch. No wonder people say the staff here are miserable.”

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1 Ethan told the teacher he wanted some peace and quiet, and asked to sit alone. “Mr. Davis, Ethan says he can’t survive without me, so we need to be desk partners.” Ethan told my mom he wanted his bedroom painted black, with smaller windows. “Mrs. Hayes, he said he wants floor-to-ceiling windows with pink curtains because he loves feeling the sunshine.” Ethan told me he hated me. I assumed he was just playing hard to get, shoved a piece of cake into his mouth, and told him I didn’t believe a word of it. “So, who do you like then? The new transfer student?” He shot me a look, violently shaking his head, and quickly signed to me: “Of course not. I don’t like her type.” I let out a massive sigh of relief and went right back to chasing after him. That was, until the day I was doing classroom cleanup duty and found a crumpled note on the floor addressed to the transfer student. It read: “I only said that because I was afraid she’d mistranslate my words and make things difficult. Please don’t be mad.” “You’re my favorite person. Let’s go to the same college, okay?” It was then I finally realized: walking away from a mute person is incredibly easy. All I had to do was close my eyes, or simply look away. The broom slipped from my hands. I instinctively picked up the crumpled note and smoothed it out. Ethan had spent years practicing calligraphy. His handwriting was unmistakable—elegant, sharp, and confident. An image instantly flashed into my mind: the soft, effortless smile that always played on his lips whenever he wrote something down. But the moment I remembered these words were written for Chloe, a profound, suffocating sense of displacement washed over me. After all, just an hour ago, I had asked him: “Why is the new girl always following you around? I think she likes you.” Ethan hadn’t said a word. He just pressed his lips into a tight line, his gaze shifting to something behind me. I followed his eyes and saw Chloe standing on her tiptoes, struggling to erase the top of the whiteboard. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ethan stood up, walked to the front of the room, rolled up his sleeves, wet a paper towel, and meticulously wiped down every spot she couldn’t reach. When he sat back down, I focused intently on changing the blade in my exacto knife, pretending I didn’t care as I asked: “Do you like her?” Ethan’s eyelashes were incredibly dark and thick—the kind of long, sweeping lashes that even girls envied. In his clear, bright eyes, I saw a flicker of profound exasperation. “I don’t like her. She is absolutely not my type,” he signed to me. I finally breathed a sigh of relief. My tense muscles relaxed, and without realizing it, my grip on the knife slipped. The blade sliced across my finger. I hissed in pain, watching beads of blood well up on my skin. The color instantly drained from Ethan’s face. Without a single wasted movement, his brow furrowed in distress as he gently, meticulously wiped the blood away. The familiar warmth of his touch and the scent of his laundry detergent instantly soothed my racing heart. I blinked, a quiet voice whispering inside my head: See? Ethan likes me. … But now, staring at the note in my hand, it read: “I was afraid she’d cause trouble and target you.” “Don’t listen to her. I only want to go to college with you.” 2 I gripped the crumpled note in my pocket, my fingertips digging into my palm. I had never been the type of girl to swallow my pride and suffer in silence. I immediately called Ethan over, demanding an explanation. A million questions bottlenecked in my throat. The words “What the hell does this note to Chloe mean?!” were literally on the tip of my tongue. But Ethan paused. His long, elegant fingers lifted slightly, signing a simple question. His eyes dropped to the Band-Aid on my finger, his gaze impossibly earnest and soft: “Does your hand still hurt?” I swatted his hand away. My tone was sharp, fueled by the bitter, stinging betrayal bubbling up in my chest: “If you think I’m annoying, you can just say it to my face.” “There’s no need to sneak around behind my back.” Ethan’s eyes shifted, landing on the crumpled piece of paper in my hand. There was no panic in his eyes. Instead, a wave of profound exhaustion washed over his face—the exact expression of a man who fully anticipated I would throw a tantrum over something “trivial.” “I didn’t mean it like that,” he signed. “But, Maya… don’t you think we’re a little too close?” Ethan hesitated, as if the next words were agonizingly difficult to force out, unsure if he should even say them. “Say it. If you don’t tell her, how is she supposed to fix her behavior? If she’s doing something wrong, she needs to change—” A bright, clear voice sliced into the conversation. I had no idea when Chloe had walked up, but she gently nudged Ethan’s shoulder, a gesture dripping with supportive encouragement. There it was again. That exact phrasing. Every instinct in my body screamed in discomfort. I had always been incredibly stubborn. Once I committed to something, I never backed down easily. Just like when I first met Ethan. An accident had stripped him of his voice, leaving him withdrawn, depressed, and completely isolated. When kids bullied him at school, he never fought back. I couldn’t stand it. Relying on the fact that I was a head taller than the other kids, I got into a brutal fistfight with a group of neighborhood boys, making them swear they would never lay a hand on Ethan again. Even after that, Ethan remained a passive, silent punching bag, letting people walk all over him. It drove me insane. So, when the teacher announced seating reassignments and asked for Ethan’s preference, he just sat there in silence, holding up a single finger. I instantly threw my hand in the air: “Mr. Davis! Ethan says he absolutely cannot endure being separated from me for even a second. We’re going to be desk partners for the rest of our lives.” During AP Calc, the department head wrote a brutally difficult equation on the board and asked if anyone could solve it. I looked down at Ethan’s scratch paper, completely filled with complex formulas. Confused as to why he always turned in blank tests, I happily raised my hand: “Mr. Davis! Ethan has three different ways to solve this!” … Eventually, Ethan wasn’t sitting next to the trash can in the back corner anymore. Between classes, people actually started walking up to his desk to ask him for help with homework. The department head recommended him for the National Math Olympiad. The day he was accepted into the elite magnet high school via their specialized STEM track, I was genuinely thrilled for him. But that day, with red-rimmed eyes, he held it in all day before quietly sliding a note onto my desk. “I’ll tutor you. Let’s get into the magnet school together, okay?” His face was flushed bright red, but he stared at me with stubborn, unwavering intensity. That was the first time my heart ever skipped a beat for him. I honestly believed our feelings were mutual. But that delusion only lasted until Chloe transferred to our school. One afternoon, I was nagging Ethan to come with me to see a movie screening downtown. He offered a helpless, apologetic smile and signed that he wanted to go to the library to organize his notes. I defaulted to my usual, playful whining: “Oh~ so you and I are on the exact same wavelength! You want to go see Interstellar too, right?!” This was our standard dynamic. It was completely normal to me; I never thought anything of it. But Chloe’s brow furrowed. Her gaze locked onto me, her tone laced with serious, genuine disapproval: “Can you please respect him a little bit? He clearly signed that he wanted to go to the library. Why do you constantly, intentionally ignore what he actually wants?” The air in the room went dead silent. I was completely bewildered. Me? Bullying Ethan? But the most devastating part was that Ethan seemed to be violently awakened by her words. He looked at Chloe, gave a firm nod, and signed “Thank you” to her. In that single instant, the unspoken understanding I thought we shared—the intimate, playful bond I thought we had built—was completely shattered. Suddenly, Chloe was the protagonist in a rescue fantasy. She was the one teaching Ethan how to establish boundaries, how to advocate for himself, how to say no. Just like right now. Under Chloe’s watchful, encouraging gaze, Ethan seemed to muster every ounce of courage he possessed to slowly, deliberately sign to me: “I think… I need some space.” 3 After that day. I spent hours agonizing over whether I was actually the villain in his story. Maybe Ethan really did like the color black. I was just the one who decided he needed to be in the sun, refusing to let him hide in his room all day. Maybe he actually preferred being entirely alone. I was just the one who arrogantly forced my way into his life, assuming he needed me when he really didn’t. No. Ethan was a genius. Even without me, he probably would have eventually become the brilliant, healthy, confident person he was today. Looking at it through that lens, I was nothing but a domineering, selfish, irrational nuisance who ruined his peace and quiet. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling until the sky grew dark, and a steady, freezing rain began to fall. The damp, misty wind blew through my open window, the icy droplets hitting my face and bringing me back to reality. It suddenly hit me—today was the day of Ethan’s monthly speech therapy appointment. Ethan’s inability to speak wasn’t permanent. The trauma of the accident had triggered a psychosomatic block. His parents had taken him to a dozen specialists. Finally, an older, distinguished neurologist just shook his head and said, “Psychological wounds are the hardest to heal.” He explained that Ethan’s vocal cords were perfectly healthy. The trauma simply made him refuse to speak. He recommended an elite speech therapy clinic downtown, suggesting monthly sessions to break the psychological barrier. At first, Ethan absolutely refused to go. He signed that he hated talking to strangers. I nagged him relentlessly, negotiating terms. “Just go! Please? I promise I’ll sit through every single one of your boring math lectures if you go.” “I really, really want to hear what your voice sounds like.” “You’re so good-looking, your voice is probably amazing. Please~” One time, I caught a terrible flu and passed out in a bed at the campus clinic. When I woke up, Ethan was sitting beside me. He was using his hands to warm the freezing IV tube, staring at me with a face full of absolute panic. I asked him why he wasn’t at his therapy appointment. He shook his head, and traced three letters onto the palm of my hand. I. M. Y. (I miss you.) His face flushed deep red as he signed to me: I am going to make absolutely sure you are the first person to ever hear my voice. Thinking about that, I couldn’t stay in bed another second. A mix of anxiety and a sweet, desperate hope flooded my chest: Ethan is definitely waiting for me. … The wet asphalt reflected the glaring streetlights. The damp air felt like breathing through a wet sponge. I stood under an umbrella outside his apartment building. The freezing rain slid down my collar, sending a violent shiver down my spine. The next second. I saw Chloe touching Ethan’s throat. 4 Ethan absolutely loathed physical contact. It wasn’t because he was a cute kid who was constantly hugged and pinched by all the neighborhood moms and older girls. Back then, I was a chubby kid. No one wanted to play with me. Ethan was the only one who, when we played pretend, let me be the Knight. “The Knight has to be strong, so she can protect the Princess,” he had told me. “So you’re the Princess? Only a princess is as pretty as you.” Ethan’s face turned bright red, and he lifted his chin with a touch of childish arrogance. “I guess that works… Fine, then you have to protect me.” We were inseparable. Our bond was so tight that his mom used to jokingly ask if I wanted to grow up and call her ‘Mom’ too. And then, the beautiful, bright Ethan suddenly vanished. The adults said he had been kidnapped. I was there the day the police finally brought him back. I saw Ethan covered in dirt and grime, only his face wiped clean, but his eyes were completely, terrifyingly hollow. At first, I was so happy I ran forward to grab his hand. The absolute second I touched him, Ethan used every ounce of strength in his body to violently shove me away, screaming hysterically. His mother’s fingernails dug deep into her own palms. Her face was stark white as she whispered a quiet “I’m sorry” to me. She said, “He scared you, didn’t he? He ran into some very bad people.” “He’s still trapped in a nightmare.” Shortly after that, Ethan’s family moved away. When I finally saw him again, he had completely lost his voice. When younger kids pushed him around in the hallways, he offered absolutely zero resistance. That was the first time I ever felt a physical ache in my chest. Maybe it was because the memory of the vibrant, radiant Ethan was so deeply burned into my childhood that seeing him broken and pathetic was something I simply couldn’t accept. I decided to put the “Knight” armor back on. Watching Ethan slowly heal, watching him become more and more dependent on me, gave me an intense, secret sense of pride. But I also had my own dark, selfish motives. I wanted Ethan to depend on me, and only me. … The moon broke through the heavy rain clouds, the sudden light momentarily blinding me. Chloe was tracing the line of Ethan’s throat. Her lips were moving. She was probably teaching him how to vocalize, how to feel the vibration of his vocal cords. I wiped away my tears, and in that exact moment, my eyes locked with Ethan’s. Our gazes collided. For the very first time, a flash of genuine panic and guilt flooded his eyes. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” I discreetly wiped the moisture from my cheeks, forcing a light, casual tone. I probably still had some pathetic shred of hope, because my voice still carried that familiar, intimate, whining edge. Ethan opened his mouth, preparing to sign a response. But Chloe let out a sudden, mocking scoff. She stepped aggressively in front of him, adopting a blatantly protective stance: “Why do you get so defensive the second anyone else gets close to Ethan?” “Honestly, you don’t even want him to have other friends, do you?” “Do you think you’re some kind of saint? If it wasn’t for you, Ethan could have had a totally normal social life.” She stared at me with the most innocent, wide-eyed expression while delivering the most venomous accusations: “The truth is, you just want to control him. You want him isolated so you’re his only friend, ensuring his entire universe revolves exclusively around you. Am I wrong?” The furious rebuttal was right on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t force my jaw to open. I stared dead at Ethan, my vision blurring with tears of absolute, suffocating betrayal. Just say something. Defend me. You know that’s not true. I desperately, agonizingly needed Ethan to step forward and tell Chloe that her toxic psychological analysis was complete bullshit. But Ethan didn’t move. His fingers moved in sharp, deliberate motions. Standing next to him, Chloe offered a smug, validating smile. He signed: “Maya, I want to try living… a life without you in it.” … I stared at the diagonal sheets of rain falling outside the awning. My feet felt like blocks of ice. I turned around and sprinted into the freezing downpour without looking back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ethan instinctively reach out, as if to stop me. But Chloe grabbed the hem of his jacket. And so, after a split-second of hesitation, he chose not to follow me. Again. In my mind, a single thought echoed. Fine. I’m done loving him. I didn’t go to school the next day. I spiked a massive fever. Fighting through a blinding headache, I dragged a massive cardboard box into the center of my bedroom. I threw every single photo of Ethan and me, and every single gift he had ever given me since we were kids, directly into the box. As I was double-checking to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, a text from Ethan popped up on my screen. “Did you catch a fever from being in the rain last night?” “We had AP Calc today. I wrote out a copy of the lecture notes for you.” I didn’t reply. I just slowly flipped through the pages of a vintage desk calendar sitting on my nightstand. Exactly four months from today was Ethan’s final scheduled appointment at the speech therapy clinic. It was also the day of our final exams.

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For my college graduation trip, my boyfriend, Ethan, my best friend, Maya, and I went to Lake Tahoe. While walking along the shore of Emerald Bay, an older tourist couple approached us with warm smiles, asking in broken English if we could help them take a picture. After taking theirs, the older woman offered to return the favor. She gently pulled Ethan and Maya toward the wooden railing, gesturing for them to lean their heads close together. Then, she waved at me, holding out her camera. “You take the picture for them! The lighting is absolutely perfect right now.” I stood there, holding my own phone up. Looking through the viewfinder at the two of them smiling, looking like the perfect couple, I tapped the shutter button. Ethan didn’t say a word. Maya took the phone from me, glanced at the screen, and smiled brightly. “Oh, this is a great shot! Let’s take one more.” Later, when we checked into the resort, the front desk clerk glanced at the reservation details and handed the keycards for the double-occupancy room directly to Ethan and Maya. Then, he slid the keycard for the single room across the counter to me. “And the room for this young lady is at the end of the hall on the third floor.” I said quietly, “I’m his girlfriend.” The clerk froze for two seconds, then quickly lowered his head to frantically double-check the booking registry. That night, back in my room, I soaked in the bathtub alone, listening to the muffled sounds of laughter drifting through the wall from the room next door. It had been a three-day trip. I had been mistaken for the third wheel seven times. I had been mistaken for their personal photographer eleven times. And I was mistaken for not being his girlfriend four times. How many times did Ethan correct them? Zero. I wrapped myself in a bathrobe, sat on the edge of the bed, opened my airline app, and changed my return flight to tomorrow. The graduation trip didn’t have to end at the summit. Chapter 1 “Chloe, can you take one of me and Ethan? That backlit angle you found earlier was amazing.” When Maya shoved her phone into my hands, her freshly done French tips caught the morning light. I took the phone. I didn’t say a word. This was the third time today. For the forty-minute drive from the resort to the state park, she and Ethan sat together in the back seat of the Uber. I sat alone in the front passenger seat. The driver asked me casually, “Your friends seem really close.” I just smiled and didn’t bother translating the awkward sentiment for them. “Move a little to the left… Yeah, perfect! Ethan, don’t move, the light hitting your face looks so good.” Maya rested her hand naturally on Ethan’s shoulder, tilting her head and smiling brightly at the camera. Ethan glanced at me. His lips parted slightly, but ultimately, he said nothing. I tapped the shutter. And handed the phone back. Maya swiped through the photos, suddenly frowning. “Chloe, you made my chin look round.” “Let’s do one more. This time, crouch down lower so my face looks slimmer.” I crouched down. My knee bumped against a jagged rock on the paved path. It stung a little. Through the viewfinder, Ethan finally spoke up. “Maya, I think that’s enough.” Maya playfully swatted his arm. “Oh, come on, just one last picture.” She turned back to me, her tone breezy and light. “Chloe, don’t mind me, okay? I’m just so used to having you take my pictures. You’re just so good at it.” I said, “It’s fine.” I had said those two words at least fifty times over the past three days. It’s fine, you guys go ahead, I’ll grab the bags. It’s fine, you guys pick the restaurant, I’m not picky. It’s fine, one room is enough, I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s fine. At noon, we ate at a busy diner. When the waitress brought the food, she naturally placed the massive “Lovers’ Shared Platter” right between Ethan and Maya. The single order of fries was pushed in front of me. Maya didn’t even notice. She leaned over to share a milkshake with Ethan, passing the glass back and forth. I picked up a fry and chewed it slowly. It tasted like nothing. In the afternoon, we went to a local arcade. When Maya won a jackpot on the claw machine, she jumped up and down excitedly, throwing her arms around Ethan’s arm. “Ethan, look! I won the grand prize! The tag says ‘True love is closer than you think!’” She read it out loud, then seemed to realize what she was doing. She let go of his arm, turned to me, and stuck her tongue out playfully. “Haha, don’t overthink it, Chloe. I was just super excited.” Ethan slowly reached over and pulled her hand off his arm. He didn’t move particularly fast. I looked down at the small keychain I had won. The tag on mine read: Sometimes holding on hurts more than letting go. I folded the tag and shoved it deep into my jacket pocket. On the walk back to the resort, Maya walked perfectly in the middle, her left arm hooked through Ethan’s, her right arm draped over my shoulder. As we passed a souvenir shop, she stopped and pointed at a pair of matching braided bracelets in the window. “Ethan, let’s get those! One for each of us, they’re so cute.” Ethan asked, “Buy them for who?” Maya said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “For you and me, duh. Chloe and I can buy a different pair for besties later.” I stared at the two bracelets. One red, one blue. Ethan paused, his gaze drifting slightly in my direction. I spoke up first. “You guys go ahead and buy them. I’m going to run to the convenience store next door to grab some water.” As I turned away, I heard Maya calling out cheerfully behind me, “Thanks, Chloe! You’re the best!” The AC in the convenience store was blasting. I stood in front of the beverage cooler, staring at my blurry reflection in the glass door. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ethan. “Are you okay?” Three words. This was the first time in three days he had sent a message directly to me. I stared at the blinking cursor on the screen for a long time. I typed a few letters, deleted them, and finally replied with the phrase he was most used to hearing. “I’m fine.” When I walked back with two bottles of water, Maya had already tied the blue bracelet onto the zipper of Ethan’s backpack. The red one hung from her own purse, dangling right next to her designer lip gloss, swaying back and forth. That night back at the resort, Maya said she wanted to go down to the hot tub. “Chloe, you wanna come?” “No thanks, I’m pretty tired.” “Okay, I’ll just go by myself then. Ethan, can you grab me a towel from downstairs?” Ethan muttered an agreement, grabbed a towel, and followed her down the long hallway. I stood in front of my door and swiped my keycard. Third floor, end of the hall, single room, window facing the parking lot. I sat on the edge of the bed and opened the photo gallery on my phone. I scrolled through every picture I had taken over the last three days. One hundred and twenty-seven photos. Photos of Ethan and Maya together: eighty-nine. Photos of me and Ethan together: zero. I closed the gallery and opened my airline app. A pop-up confirming my flight change appeared. I tapped “Confirm.” My phone buzzed again. It was Maya in the group chat. “We’re going hiking tomorrow! Chloe, will you take some trail pictures of us? The kind that look super aesthetic for Instagram!” I set my phone down and turned off the lamp. In the dark, I heard footsteps and hushed laughter coming down the hallway. They were back from the hot tub. The door to the room next door clicked open, then shut. Then, silence. A very, very long silence. Chapter 2 “Chloe, what do you think of this outfit for today?” Early the next morning, Maya pushed my door open, holding up two jackets. One was her own white windbreaker, the other was Ethan’s navy blue fleece jacket. “I feel like wearing Ethan’s jacket for the pictures gives off a better vibe. Like, a cute ‘boyfriend jacket’ aesthetic, you know?” She quickly added, “Oh, I mean, the colors just coordinate better.” I sat under the covers. My hair was still a mess. I glanced at her. “You look good in anything.” I genuinely meant that. Maya was 5’6″, had gorgeous long hair, perfect cheekbones, and dimples when she smiled. For the last four years of college, the guys chasing her could form a line around the library. Me? I was 5’3″, had a short bob, a round face, and features that people politely described as “approachable.” Which usually means no one notices you at first glance. “You’re always so sweet!” Maya sat on the edge of my bed and naturally picked up my hairbrush to start brushing. She was brushing her own hair. “Oh right, Chloe, make sure you bring your telephoto lens for the hike today, okay? I saw online that the shots of the mountain peaks from that trail are incredible.” I said, “That lens is really heavy.” “It’ll be fine! You’ve got great stamina.” She checked her reflection in the small mirror in my room, looking very satisfied as she slipped Ethan’s jacket on. The navy fleece hung loosely on her frame. The sleeves were too long, so she rolled them up, exposing her slender wrists. “I’m gonna head down for breakfast! Ethan’s probably already in the dining area.” The door closed. I slowly got dressed and shoved the heavy telephoto lens into my backpack. The straps dug painfully into my shoulders. When I got downstairs, I saw Ethan and Maya sitting across from each other by the window. Two coffees, two plates of eggs and bacon. I walked over and sat down. Ethan looked up. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I didn’t order for you.” Maya chimed in, “Chloe, your taste is so hard to guess. Every time we ask what you want, you just say ‘whatever’.” I said, “It’s fine, I’ll go grab something myself.” When I walked up to the breakfast buffet, the hot food was almost entirely gone. All that was left were a few slices of cold toast and some butter packets. I grabbed two slices of toast and walked back. Ethan looked at my plate and frowned slightly. “That’s all you’re eating?” “It’s enough.” Maya reached over with her fork and picked up a piece of bacon from her own plate. “Here, have a piece of mine.” She wasn’t putting it on my plate. She was reaching across the table to put it on Ethan’s plate. “Oh, oops, my bad! Ethan, pass that to Chloe.” Ethan paused for a second, then pushed the piece of bacon across the table toward me. I didn’t eat it. On the shuttle bus to the trailhead, I sat alone in a single seat near the back window. Two rows ahead of me, Maya and Ethan sat shoulder-to-shoulder, sharing a pair of AirPods. She laughed out loud occasionally, turning back to tell me, “Chloe, you have to listen to this song later, it’s so good.” But she never offered me an earbud. When we arrived at the scenic overlook, the wind was fierce. I walked behind them, carrying my heavy camera bag, watching the two of them stand side-by-side at the railing. Maya was wearing Ethan’s jacket. The wind whipped her hair across her face, and Ethan reached out to gently tuck a strand behind her ear. The movement was incredibly natural. Like he had done it a thousand times before. I pulled out my camera. No one had asked me to take a picture yet, but I knew that in a few seconds, Maya would turn around. Three, two, one. “Chloe! Quick, take a picture! The background is gorgeous!” The shutter clicked four times. As I lowered the camera, a guy wearing a heavy hiking pack walked up to me and asked in perfect English, “Excuse me, are you a professional photographer?” I froze for a second. He pointed at the heavy camera strapped around my neck and the massive backpack I was hauling. “You just look very official.” I offered a bitter smile. “No, I’m just their friend.” He smiled politely, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes, and walked away. Ethan heard the exchange. He glanced at me. His lips parted as if to speak. I waited for three seconds. He said nothing. Maya chimed in instead. “Haha, see Chloe? You look so professional even strangers think you’re a hired photographer.” “You should totally start a travel photography business. I’d be your first client!” The mountain wind scattered her words slightly, but I heard every single syllable perfectly clearly. I raised the camera again. Through the viewfinder, the snow-capped mountain peak looked brilliant. Blindingly white. But my fingers were so numb from the cold I could barely feel them anymore. Chapter 3 “Chloe, do you think Ethan has been acting weird around me lately?” That night, after we got back from the hike, Maya showed up at my door in her pajamas. She was holding two cups of hot cocoa from the vending machine downstairs, wearing an expression of perfectly calculated distress. I let her in. She sat cross-legged on my bed, took a sip of cocoa, and let out a dramatic sigh. “It’s just… he keeps looking at me, but then he won’t say anything. Sometimes I joke around with him, and he just smiles but doesn’t play along.” She looked up at me, her eyes slightly glassy. “Do you think he has feelings for me?” I took a sip of my hot cocoa. It burned my tongue. “He’s my boyfriend.” Maya blinked, acting as if she had suddenly been jolted awake, waving her hands frantically. “I know, I know! I didn’t mean it like that! I’m just… confused, you know?” “Do you think I should distance myself from him? But we’ve always acted like this since we were kids. If I suddenly change how I act, it’ll make things weird, right?” Since we were kids. Those words rolled off her tongue so easily, but they hit my ears like lead weights. Maya and Ethan grew up together. They lived in the same neighborhood, went to the same elementary, middle, and high school. They drifted apart during the first three years of college, only to reconnect right before graduation. Because of me. During our sophomore year, Maya transferred to my university and became my roommate. She was bubbly, gorgeous, and sweet to everyone. She was the one who told me that the guy from the neighboring dorm, Ethan, kept looking at me. She was the one who passed notes for us. She was the one who posted, “My roomie finally got a boyfriend!” on Instagram the day we made it official. And then she and Ethan were reunited. And everything just naturally fell into place. Dinner for three. Studying for three. Road trips for three. I never thought there was an issue. Until this trip. “Chloe, you’re not mad, are you?” Maya leaned closer, grabbing my hand. Her palm was clammy. Her tone was soft, laced with a careful, pleading sweetness. But when I looked into her eyes, I didn’t see anxiety. I saw validation. She was checking to make sure I wasn’t going to snap. Checking to make sure I was still the same reliable, passive Chloe who always said “It’s fine.” “No.” After I said that word, I suddenly remembered the stranger on the trail asking me that question earlier today. Are you their photographer? Yeah. What exactly was I? “Oh, good!” Maya exhaled deeply, flopping backward onto my blankets. “Oh right! Tomorrow is our last day, and I really want to go to that cute little artisan village downtown. Could you look up the bus routes for us?” I said sure. After she left, I didn’t look up any bus routes. I opened my airline app and stared at my modified flight itinerary for tomorrow. 2:15 PM departure. Out of state, heading straight back home. I wondered what time she and Ethan would finally notice I was gone. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ethan. “Are you asleep?” I stared at those words for a long time. What did he want to say? Yesterday he asked, “Are you okay?” Today he asks, “Are you asleep?” It had been four days, and the number of times he initiated a conversation with me could be counted on one hand. Meanwhile, I had personally witnessed him exchange at least fifty sentences with Maya just today. I didn’t reply. Three minutes later, another message came through. “We’re heading to the artisan village tomorrow. Do you want to come?” We. I didn’t know if that “we” included me. But I knew that tomorrow, at the artisan village, it would only be him and Maya. I typed out a reply: “I want to sleep in tomorrow. You guys go ahead without me.” Send. He replied almost instantly: “Okay, get some rest. Do you want me to bring you anything back?” My thumbs moved almost by pure muscle memory: “No thanks.” Then I added: “Have fun.” The chat went dead silent. I locked my screen, and the room was plunged into darkness. Outside my window, the faint, distant crackle of fireworks popped, briefly illuminating a small square on my ceiling. I remembered the beginning of our freshman year, right after Ethan and I started dating. He used to walk twenty minutes across campus just to save a seat for me in the library. When it poured rain, he would give me his only umbrella and walk back to his dorm completely soaked. On my birthday, he would call me at exactly midnight, and the very first thing he would say was always, “Chloe, happy birthday. You’re stuck with me for another year.” And then what happened? Then Maya showed up. His attention began to splinter. Like water hitting a rock in a stream, it naturally diverted and flowed around me. It wasn’t a sudden, violent shift. It was just a slow, gradual drift. Every single time, he drifted just a little bit further away. Just enough that I could almost convince myself it was perfectly normal. The affection he showed me dwindled, but it never completely vanished. He still held my hand occasionally. He still said goodnight. He still asked, “Are you okay?” So I kept lying to myself: He still loves me. They’re just old friends. It’s just a friendship. But friends don’t wear each other’s jackets. They don’t share a single pair of earbuds. They don’t tenderly tuck hair behind each other’s ears in the wind. They don’t stand by and let the entire world mistake the person they claim to love for a completely irrelevant third wheel, over and over again. My flight was tomorrow at 2:15 PM. I wasn’t going to say goodbye. Chapter 4 “Miss, would you like your breakfast brought up to the room?” When the resort staff knocked on my door, I had already finished packing my bags. It wasn’t much. One carry-on, one backpack. My camera and the heavy telephoto lens were buried at the bottom of my suitcase, pressed down beneath a pile of dresses I hadn’t worn once this trip. Maya had dragged me to the mall to buy that specific dress before we left. She had insisted, “Chloe, you have to dress up! These graduation trip photos are going to last a lifetime.” She ended up picking out a floral sundress for me. The price tag said $250. I paid for it without hesitating, just because she said I looked pretty in it. Four days had passed, and I never took it out of my suitcase. Because I wasn’t in any of the photos anyway. I ate a few bites of oatmeal and pushed the tray out into the hallway. I checked the time. 8:30 AM. Ethan and Maya had probably already checked out of their rooms and left for the day. Sure enough, the group chat had a string of messages from fifteen minutes ago. Maya: “Chloe~ We’re heading out! Enjoy sleeping in!” Maya: “We’ll bring you back a cute souvenir tonight!” Ethan hadn’t said anything in the group chat. But five minutes later, he sent me a private text: “I’ll come find you this afternoon.” I stared at that message for a long time. When you come looking for me this afternoon, this room will already be empty. I didn’t reply. I grabbed my suitcase and headed downstairs. The front desk clerk was the same guy who had handed me the wrong room key on the first day. Seeing me dragging my luggage alone, he asked politely, “Where are your friends? Do you need me to call a cab to the airport?” “Yes, please.” As I settled the bill, he asked if I needed him to leave a message for the other guests in my party. I said, “No need.” The Uber arrived quickly. As I climbed into the backseat, I took one last look at the entrance of the resort. A decorative wind chime hung by the door, swaying gently in the morning breeze. I had walked through those doors countless times over the last three days. Every single time, I was walking ten steps behind them. Goodbye. About ten minutes into the ride, my phone rang. It wasn’t Ethan. It wasn’t Maya. It was my mom. “Chloe, are you having fun on your trip?” I said, “Yeah, it’s been great.” “Send me some pictures! I want to see you and Ethan together.” I was silent for two seconds. “I’ll send you some next time we take them.” I hung up. Outside the window, the pine trees and luxury cabins blurred past, shrinking smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror until they disappeared completely. I arrived at the airport by noon. Security, waiting at the gate, boarding. Throughout the entire process, I didn’t receive a single text. Ethan and Maya were probably still wandering around the artisan village, taking hundreds of photos that didn’t require me to press the shutter button. I sank into my window seat in economy and buckled my seatbelt. Next to me sat an older couple. The husband was helping his wife adjust her seatbelt, and she patted his hand affectionately. I turned my face toward the window. The moment the plane lifted off the runway, the ground dropped away, turning the buildings and cars into tiny, insignificant toys. My phone was on airplane mode. The screen still displayed the very last message I had received. “I’ll come find you this afternoon.” The flight attendant’s voice echoed through the cabin, announcing our flight time. In four and a half hours, I would land in a completely different state. This trip was over. I closed my eyes as the plane pierced through the cloud cover.

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My parents, whose entire lives revolved around my older sister, had no idea that I had another family waiting for me inside my mirror. They went on a three-day family vacation, and only when they were driving back did they suddenly remember they had left me behind. But when Mom and Dad rushed into the house in a panic… They found me perfectly clean, well-fed, and happily playing in my room. The guilt and panic on Mom’s face instantly morphed into utter shock. “Have you been taking care of yourself this entire time?” I shook my head. “I’ve been living inside the mirror for the past few days. My mommy and daddy in there took really good care of me.” A flash of disbelief crossed their eyes. And then, an explosive, thunderous rage. “You know exactly why your sister Chloe developed severe autism! It was because of the trauma of having a second sibling! She hasn’t spoken a word to anyone except her dolls for years!” “And now you have the audacity to copy her? Making up some imaginary mirror world just to manipulate us and steal attention away from your sister?!” Years of accumulated exhaustion, stress, and repressed anger from raising a special-needs child were suddenly, violently unleashed onto me. I was locked inside my bedroom. Through the door, Mom issued a vicious warning. “Taking care of your sister has drained every ounce of energy we have! This family cannot afford to raise two autistic children!” “If you ever play dumb or act crazy again, you can pack your bags and get out of this house!” I curled into a tiny ball in the corner of my room, sobbing so hard I couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, a pale, withered hand reached out from the surface of the mirror, gently stroking the top of my head. “Three strikes, little one. If they abandon you one more time… Mommy will take you away with her.” … The exact second the doorknob turned, the mother in the mirror retreated backward, dissolving into the glass. My real mom stood coldly in the doorway, glaring down at me. “We have guests coming over soon. Get out here and help set up.” I followed her like a shadow, taking the stack of plastic plates she handed me. My eyes couldn’t help but drift toward the massive, heavily decorated cake sitting in the center of the dining table. “Don’t just stand there staring at it. Hurry up and help slice the cake.” Halfway through handing out the slices, it suddenly hit me—today was my birthday. So Mom and Dad actually remembered. My nose stung, and I quickly wiped the tears welling in my eyes. I suddenly remembered that before Chloe got sick, Mom and Dad used to be really good to me. Whenever they took Chloe to the mall, they would always bring back new dresses for me, too. They didn’t just force me to wear Chloe’s faded, ill-fitting hand-me-downs like they do now. If I leave with my mom and dad in the mirror… would they be sad? The next second, Mom clasped her hands together, her voice trembling with absolute, overwhelming joy, completely shattering my little fantasy. “Chloe can finally say ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ again! Today is a day for celebration!” “When the rest of the family gets here, maybe Chloe will even say hi to them!” I froze in place. The tiny, hopeful smile on my face slowly collapsed. The doorbell rang, and a flood of relatives poured into the house. Chloe was instantly surrounded, treated like an absolute superstar. “Chloe, sweetheart! I heard you’re finally talking! Come on, say hi to Uncle Dave!” “I’m your Aunt Susan! Say my name, and I’ll give you a massive birthday check!” Under the intense, suffocating gaze of the entire family, Chloe pressed her lips tightly together. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the fabric of her dress, absolutely refusing to make a sound. Seeing the relatives’ enthusiasm start to wane into awkwardness, Dad quickly shot me a sharp, commanding look. He was ordering me to rescue Chloe from the spotlight. I squeezed my way into the circle of adults, pasting on a sweet, bright smile, greeting every single one of them loudly. “Uncle Dave! Uncle Mark! Aunt Susan! Mia is going to hand out the cake now!” As the relatives ate, they smiled and showered me with praise: “Mia is such a little sweetheart. She knows exactly what to say!” “If I had a daughter as articulate and sharp as Mia, I’d wake up laughing every day.” Only Aunt Susan kept a sour, judgmental look on her face. She deliberately raised her voice: “What do you mean, ‘articulate’? It’s painfully obvious she’s just trying to steal the spotlight.” “She’s already six years old! When my son was her age, he could recite the entire periodic table from memory. Being able to say ‘hi’ to people isn’t exactly a groundbreaking achievement.” “She’s only showing off because she knows her sister is autistic.” The warm glow on Mom’s face instantly vanished. She glared at me, her voice sharp with reprimand: “Mia! Why are you always talking so much? Your sister finally managed to open her mouth, and you just had to swoop in and steal her thunder!” The proud smile on Dad’s face evaporated as well. He shot me a freezing, disappointed look. “Put your little manipulative tricks away. Stop using these cheap tactics to beg for attention.” Uncle Dave, seeing me drop my head in silence, asked with a mocking half-smile: “Mia, tell Uncle Dave… who taught you how to be so manipulative and attention-seeking at such a young age?” Chapter 2 My bottom lip trembled violently, my eyes instantly filling with hot tears. I instinctively looked toward Mom and Dad for help. They both flinched slightly, seemingly just remembering the impossible, suffocating standard they had forced upon me. Ever since Chloe’s autism diagnosis grew more severe, Mom and Dad forced me to talk constantly whenever I was around her. Countless times, I would talk until my throat was raw and bleeding, begging her to respond, while Chloe just stared blankly at the wall. Mom clutched her chest, her voice choking with a mix of grief for Chloe and pure, unfiltered resentment toward me. “Talk to your sister! Keep talking to her! Say something, right now!” “What is the point of having a mouth if you aren’t going to use it to help her?!” “You never, ever think about what’s best for your sister! All you do is exist to make her upset!” But Chloe’s version of being “upset” meant sneaking me handfuls of candy, fully knowing I wasn’t allowed to have any. When I was three years old, she fed me so much candy that my baby teeth completely rotted out. I cried in agonizing pain every single night, unable to sleep. In the end, I had to get all my baby teeth surgically extracted, and Mom and Dad beat me severely for being a “glutton.” Dad would frequently sit me down, his face a mask of absolute authority, lecturing me: “Mia, the child psychologist was very clear. We need someone in the house to constantly model verbal communication for Chloe, to provide her with continuous positive reinforcement.” “As her younger sister, it is your responsibility—your absolute duty—to help her. You have to be the perfect role model for her.” But I was trying! I was trying so hard to be the perfect role model, to get Chloe to talk. Why were Mom and Dad still never, ever satisfied with me? While I was standing there, completely overwhelmed by the adults’ interrogation, my hands gripping my dress, Dad suddenly shoved a bowl of strawberries toward me. “Go sit in the corner and eat your strawberries. Stop talking.” I took the bowl. But the second my fingers touched the rim, Chloe suddenly lunged forward. She violently ripped the bowl out of my hands and smashed it onto the hardwood floor, letting out a piercing, ear-shattering shriek. Mom and Dad’s faces instantly drained of color. Chloe was having an autistic meltdown. Mom’s eyes went red. She aggressively poked me hard in the forehead with her index finger, screaming: “Mia! Why are you so damn greedy?!” “Your sister hasn’t even eaten yet! Why did you try to eat first?!” “You know perfectly well that your sister lacks a sense of security! Everything in this house belongs to her first! She always gets priority!” Looking down at the crushed, ruined strawberries staining the floor, a bitter, suffocating lump rose in my throat. I dropped to my knees, picking up the smashed strawberries piece by piece, placing them back into the bowl. My lips trembled as I whispered: “I know I was wrong. I don’t want the strawberries anymore.” “I’ll give them all to Chloe.” Uncle Mark, seeing me acting so submissive, frowned. He asked curiously: “Why is Mia suddenly acting so well-behaved? I remember when she was three, she was incredibly territorial over her food. If she had something in her hands, no one could take it from her.” Hearing a rare word of actual concern from Uncle Mark, a tiny shred of warmth bloomed in my chest. Without thinking, my deepest secret simply slipped out of my mouth: “Because the mommy in the mirror already gave me a lot of strawberries to eat…” Meeting Mom and Dad’s absolutely freezing, horrified stares, I instantly realized I had messed up. I desperately clamped my small hands over my mouth, shaking my head violently to signal I hadn’t said anything at all. Aunt Susan wasn’t buying my “well-behaved” act for a second. A cruel, mocking smirk twisted her lips. “This little brat is an incredible actress!” “Playing the victim to farm sympathy, and now she’s lying about having a mother inside the mirror? Why don’t you just tell us you’re moving into the mirror to live with her?!” Hearing Aunt Susan’s words, I completely froze. How did Aunt Susan know that the mommy in the mirror was going to take me away? Mom noticed the sheer panic flashing in my eyes. She was shaking with rage. “Mia! Didn’t I teach you that good girls don’t lie?! Why are you spouting this psychotic nonsense in front of the entire family?!” “Tell everyone right now that you made up the ‘mommy in the mirror’! Tell them it’s a lie!” I instinctively glanced over at the large decorative mirror hanging in the hallway. The mommy in the mirror was leaning her head out of the glass, her hollow, dead eyes staring directly at me, a grotesque, unnatural smile stretching across her face. I looked back at my real mom, absolutely terrified, stuttering: “Mommy, I’m not lying, and I’m not making it up…” There really is another mommy in the mirror. But under the crushing, furious weight of my real mom’s glare, the second half of my sentence died in my throat. Uncle Mark, who had spent a few years studying at a Buddhist monastery, took my words incredibly seriously. He frowned and turned to Mom: “I don’t think Mia is lying. That mirror might actually be cursed or holding some bad energy. You want me to do a sweep of the house for you?” When Uncle Mark pulled a set of prayer beads and a protective talisman out of his bag, Mom’s face grew visibly tense. Uncle Mark was just about to ask me a few specific questions about the mirror, when he was abruptly cut off by Chloe’s screaming. Chapter 3 Chloe had picked up a jagged shard of porcelain from the smashed bowl and was aggressively slicing it across her own wrist. Mom instantly descended into absolute, hysterical panic. She threw herself onto Chloe, desperately restraining her arms to stop her from mutilating herself. Dad looked at me, his eyes filled with an agonizing, bone-chilling hatred. “Did you intentionally lie about seeing parents in the mirror just to trigger your sister’s guilt and make her cut her own wrists?!” “We love you so much! How can you be so vicious and evil?! Where do you come up with these twisted, psychotic ideas?!” I shook my head violently, tears completely blinding me. “Daddy, I’m not lying…” But Dad didn’t want to hear a single word of my explanation. He hastily excused himself to the relatives, scooped Chloe up, and drove her straight to the emergency room. After the relatives awkwardly shuffled out the door, I was left standing in the living room entirely alone. I had tried so hard to be perfect. Why did Mom and Dad still refuse to believe me? Because Chloe’s cuts weren’t deep, the hospital released her quickly. But Mom and Dad still took turns sitting by her bed, maintaining a 24/7 watch, terrified she might try to hurt herself again. The only time I ever saw them was when they came out to the kitchen to cook meals specifically for her. But the absolute second I tried to get close to them, they would instinctively physically push me away, recoiling from me as if I was diseased. “Mia, stay the hell away from me.” “You already pushed your sister to the point of slitting her wrists. Are you not going to be satisfied until you actually watch her die?!” I shook my head, my face crumpling in sheer misery. “Mommy, I don’t know why Chloe cut her wrists, but I swear I don’t want her to die.” Even when Chloe would have severe meltdowns—pouring boiling hot water on my arms, or taking scissors and hacking my hair to pieces—I never resented her. Because I knew Chloe was only sick because of me. If I hadn’t been born as the unwanted second child, Chloe would never have gotten sick. Mom and Dad wouldn’t have to live in a constant state of agonizing misery. But hearing Mom say those words… my heart still hurt so much it felt like it was bleeding. Two days later, Chloe finally came out of her room. She was significantly more active than before. Not only was she calling Mom and Dad by their names again, she was even stringing together simple sentences. According to Mom, it happened when Mom was sitting by her bed sobbing uncontrollably. Chloe felt so bad for her that she finally spoke up to comfort her. But I had spent years desperately trying to guide Chloe to speak, and she never reacted to me once. How did she miraculously start talking just because Mom cried? Clutching the ragdoll the mommy in the mirror had given me, I quietly pushed open the door to Chloe’s bedroom. I saw Mom and Dad sitting on the edge of Chloe’s bed, coaxing her with the gentlest, softest voices I had ever heard: “Chloe, sweetie, from now on you just focus on resting and getting better. I don’t care what your sister does to try and steal our attention, Mommy only loves you. You are my only priority.” “Daddy feels the exact same way. That’s why we’ve been completely ignoring your sister these past few days. We’re teaching her a lesson so she remembers her place.” Chloe’s eyes were slightly red. She spoke very slowly, dragging out her words: “Don’t… blame… Mia. She’s… little.” “If I wasn’t here… everything would be better…” Hearing Chloe say that, Mom and Dad were overwhelmed with a mix of fury toward me and absolute heartbreak for her. Dad wrapped his arms tightly around Chloe’s shoulders, making a soft, ironclad promise: “Don’t be silly, sweetheart. Don’t ever say that. You will always be Mommy and Daddy’s most precious treasure.” “Your sister’s mind is too dark and manipulative. We’ve decided to send her to live with your Aunt Susan for a while so she can be properly disciplined. Once you’re fully healed, we’ll think about bringing her back.” The ragdoll slipped from my trembling hands, hitting the hardwood floor with a soft thud. Chapter 4 Mom and Dad whipped their heads around, a flash of panicked guilt crossing their faces when they realized I had heard everything. Dad, seeing me standing there in complete, devastated silence, decided to just rip the band-aid off. “Well, since you heard us, your mother and I aren’t going to hide it from you anymore.” “Your Aunt Susan called us yesterday and offered to take you in for a while to straighten out your behavior.” My body felt like it had been injected with lead. Tears pooled hot in my eyes as I looked up at the two people who were supposed to protect me. “Mommy… Daddy… just because Chloe is sick, you have to pretend you don’t love me anymore? You’re just going to throw me away completely?” Dad looked away, unable to meet my eyes. Mom, however, let out a harsh, impatient scoff. “You’re the one who’s so absolutely convinced that the parents inside your mirror love you more than we do. Fine. Take your mirror and go live with Aunt Susan.” With that, Mom shoved me out of Chloe’s bedroom and violently slammed the door in my face. Listening to the warm, muffled laughter coming from inside the room, a dull, agonizing ache spread across my chest. Maybe they were the perfect, happy family of three. And I was just the unwanted, disposable outsider. I walked silently back to my own room. The mommy in the mirror had already prepared a massive, steaming plate of my favorite food, waiting for me. She unfolded her withered, skeletal frame, offering me a warm, loving smile. “Come here, sweetheart. Come eat. As soon as you’re done, you’re coming with Mommy. Your daddy is waiting for you inside.” I nodded, my eyes completely blank and dead. I obediently ate the food the mommy in the mirror had made for me. Halfway through the meal, the tears I had been fighting back finally broke, falling in massive, heavy drops onto my rice. I sobbed quietly, looking up at the mirror. “Before we leave… can I go say goodbye to Mommy and Daddy?” The mommy in the mirror offered a grotesque, stretching smile. “Make it quick. Mommy is taking you away very soon.” I wiped my tears, grabbed a pen and paper from my desk, and wrote a letter to Mom and Dad. I ran out to the living room and threw my arms around them. “Goodbye, Mommy! Goodbye, Daddy!” Mom looked at the letter in my hand and swatted it away like it was radioactive trash, letting it fall into the garbage can. Dad’s jaw was clenched tight. “Don’t think playing these pathetic little guilt-trip games is going to make us back down. We’re still sending you away.” “Your Aunt Susan will be here in five minutes. Go pack your bags and get out.” I nodded, my heart unbearably heavy. Even though I knew this was the end, the pain in my chest was still excruciating. I went back to my room, but I didn’t pack a single thing. I just sat on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the room where I had lived for the past six years. It suddenly felt completely alien to me. But it was okay. I had a mommy and daddy waiting in the mirror who actually loved me. And there was no sister in there who hated me. Living inside the mirror with them had to be better than this, right? The next second, Aunt Susan’s loud, shrill voice echoed from right outside my bedroom door. “The door won’t open! This little brat definitely locked it from the inside.” Mom and Dad began furiously pounding on my door, screaming at me. “Mia! You are seriously pushing it! How dare you lock the door on us!” “Your Aunt Susan is here to pick you up! Open this door right now!” “We are dragging you out of this house today even if we have to tie you up! We are curing you of this toxic attitude!” Realizing I wasn’t going to open the door no matter how much they screamed, Mom and Dad completely lost it. With a violent crash, Dad kicked the door entirely off its hinges. But I was just standing perfectly still in front of my mirror, offering them a quiet, final wave. Saying my last goodbye. Mom and Dad glared at me, their faces purple with rage, stepping forward to physically drag me out of the room. But in the exact next second, a pair of withered, skeletal hands erupted from the solid glass of the mirror behind me. All the blood instantly drained from Mom and Dad’s faces. In absolute, paralyzed terror, they screamed at the top of their lungs: “Mia! Get away from there!” I turned around, and without a single second of hesitation, threw myself completely into the embrace waiting for me inside the glass.

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When the third month rolled around and I handed the nanny her $800 allowance for groceries and supplies, she threw her apron on the counter and quit. As she stormed out, she muttered curses under her breath. “The richer they get, the cheaper they are. What the hell am I supposed to do with $800? If you don’t have money, don’t hire a nanny.” Holding my newborn baby, tears streamed silently down my face. When we first got married, Arthur couldn’t wait to give me a $10,000 monthly allowance, constantly complaining that I wasn’t spending enough. But ever since his newly hired executive assistant, Chloe, took over managing his personal finances, my monthly allowance was slashed to exactly $800. Forget paying a nanny’s salary—it wasn’t even enough to cover the baby’s formula. Arthur carelessly blew fifty thousand dollars buying Chloe a haute couture gown for an event. Meanwhile, I sat at home, exhausted and unkempt, holding our child, unable to even afford a decent meal for myself. Pushed to the absolute brink, I finally called Arthur’s best friend. “The baby is out of formula and won’t stop crying. I haven’t eaten all day…” Hearing my choked sobs, Noah didn’t ask questions. He immediately rushed over to help me with the baby. That same evening, Arthur happened to come home. He walked in, his face turning an ugly shade of iron-gray as he saw his best friend holding his baby and cooking dinner in his kitchen. “What the hell are you doing here?!” he demanded. Noah glared back at him, his voice like ice. “You neglect your own wife, and you have the audacity to interrogate me? Eight hundred dollars? Is that a joke to you?” “You probably spent more than that on a pair of socks for your little assistant!” Arthur froze. He turned to me, a look of profound disbelief on his face. “What $800 a month? I clearly told her to give you $8,000!” Everyone in the room stood frozen in shock. It was the third day since the nanny had walked out. I had just finished eating my very last packet of instant ramen. The baby’s formula tin was completely empty. I had managed to scrape together one final bottle, but it wasn’t enough. Still hungry, the baby wailed at the top of her lungs. Panic set in as I paced the living room, bouncing her gently for what felt like hours. “Shh, baby, don’t cry. Mommy hasn’t eaten all day either.” Desperate, I opened the fridge. Inside sat two cartons of expired milk and a plastic bag of wilted spinach. After three consecutive months of an $800 allowance, the apartment had been stripped bare of anything edible. I sighed, pulling out the spinach, hoping to boil it. But as I touched the leaves, I noticed a fine layer of white mold. They crumbled between my fingers. I carried my sobbing baby in circles around the living room. Her tiny face was turning a horrifying shade of purple from crying so hard. But there wasn’t a single drop of milk left in the bottle. I collapsed onto the floor in absolute despair, my tears falling in defeat. Last month, when I took her to the pediatric clinic for her vaccinations, the nurse mentioned her weight was tracking low and told me to feed her more frequently. I lied to the nurse, saying the baby just had a small appetite. It wasn’t a small appetite. There simply wasn’t any food. I couldn’t even feed myself. How was I supposed to feed her? Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I swallowed my pride and dialed Arthur’s number. It rang several times before Arthur finally picked up, his voice dripping with impatience. “Didn’t I tell you? You have to schedule a call with my assistant before you dial me directly.” “I am incredibly busy right now. Taking this call is costing me hundreds of thousands of dollars.” He had emphasized it repeatedly: his schedule was grueling. If I needed him, I had to book a time slot through his assistant first. But the baby wouldn’t stop screaming. I couldn’t care about his rules anymore. “Arthur, we’re out of formula. The baby is hungry, and I haven’t eaten anything all day…” Arthur’s tone shifted abruptly. “What’s going on?” “The money isn’t enough…” Before I could finish my sentence, Chloe’s sharp, breathy giggle echoed through the speaker. “Mr. Sterling, is your wife using the baby as an excuse to beg for more money again?” “See? I told you. Clara is just a gold digger. You give her an allowance, and she just gets greedier, using her own child to milk you for more cash.” Hearing that, Arthur’s voice instantly turned freezing cold. “Clara, I’ve told you before. Using the child to extort cash is unacceptable.” Chapter 2 “Your allowance for the month was transferred by Chloe weeks ago. The company is facing a cash flow bottleneck right now. Stop spending recklessly and learn to budget.” The call disconnected abruptly. The dial tone echoed in my ear, and my heart turned to absolute ice. Three months ago, Arthur casually informed me that his new executive assistant, Chloe, would be handling all of his personal household expenditures. When I called Chloe to request the monthly funds, she answered with a sugary sweet, condescending tone. “Clara, Mr. Sterling’s capital is tied up in a major acquisition right now. He’s had to compress the household budget. You’ll just have to make do.” When the $800 hit my account, I stared at the screen in disbelief. “Arthur is only giving me $800?” Chloe’s smile faded into a patronizing sigh over the line. “I’m just an assistant. I execute Mr. Sterling’s orders. Take it up with him.” But previously, my monthly allowance was $10,000, and Arthur constantly nagged me for being too frugal. “You’re my wife, Clara. Earning money is pointless if I can’t spoil you with it.” He always remembered how I had stuck by him when he was broke, sharing a cramped studio apartment, and he swore he would give me the absolute best life had to offer. But now? Eight hundred dollars to feed and care for myself and a newborn? In this city? It was mathematically impossible. I tried to tell Arthur the funds weren’t enough, but received a cold, formal text in response. “Chloe informed me you’ve been calling her three times a day. It is severely impacting my operational efficiency.” “From now on, if you need to speak with me, schedule an appointment with Chloe. If she approves the time, she will transfer the call.” “Also, Chloe mentioned you’ve been complaining about the budget. Grow up and act your age.” From that day forward, getting Arthur on the phone became virtually impossible. Every time I tried to “schedule an appointment,” Chloe would decline it, citing his “packed schedule.” When the first $800 hit my account, I went to a discount pharmacy to buy the cheapest formula available. One tin was $27. Two tins were $54. After paying the electric and water bills, the remaining $700 evaporated. The second month brought another $800. I bought diapers and two massive boxes of instant ramen. When the third month’s $800 arrived, we were down to our last three diapers, the formula tin was scraped clean, and the ramen was gone. It was a terrifying cycle of barely surviving. When the third $800 deposit cleared, the nanny happened to see the notification on my phone. She let out a scoff of pure disgust. “You people are pathetic. What is $800 going to cover? If you’re broke, don’t hire a nanny.” “And by the way, you haven’t paid my salary in three months. If I don’t see that money soon, I’m taking you to small claims court.” She ripped off her apron, threw it on the counter, and walked out. Thinking about all this, I took a deep breath of pure despair. I scrolled through my contacts until I found a familiar name, and hit the call button. “Are you busy right now? Could you please come help me watch the baby? She’s out of formula, and I haven’t eaten all day…” My voice broke into a choked sob as I spoke. “I’m so sorry. I know this is a huge imposition.” “But I am completely out of options. I don’t know anyone else in this city. Your number was the only one I had saved…” The line went quiet for two agonizing seconds. “Stay right there. I’m on my way.” Noah. Arthur’s college roommate, and his absolute best friend. He was the best man at our wedding. During his toast, he had laughed and promised, “If Arthur ever mistreats you, Clara, you call me. I’ll be the first one to kick his ass.” I never imagined that promise would be tested so soon. Less than forty minutes later, the doorbell rang. I opened the door. Noah stood there, sweating through his shirt, holding three massive grocery bags. When he saw the state I was in, he froze. “Clara, don’t cry.” “Let me take her.” He handed me a takeout bag from a nice deli. “Eat this while it’s hot. Soup and a sandwich.” Then he pulled two tins of premium organic formula from the bags and immediately went to the kitchen to sterilize a bottle. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the spoon. After two bites of soup, my shrunken stomach violently rejected the food. I gagged, fighting the urge to throw up. Chapter 3 Noah didn’t rush me. He just quietly tore the sandwich into smaller, manageable pieces and placed them on a napkin. “Where is Arthur? Does he know what’s happening here?” I shook my head. Noah went quiet, then asked, “How long has it been since he came home?” I let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. “Maybe a month?” “He’s been traveling constantly. He stopped by last month for ten minutes to grab some legal documents, and then he left again.” And he had his assistant, Chloe, trailing right behind him. Arthur had barely picked up our daughter before Chloe checked her designer watch and rudely interrupted him. “Mr. Sterling, you’ve been holding the baby for sixty seconds. In sixty seconds, you generate thousands of dollars. We cannot afford to delay your schedule any further.” Arthur’s face stiffened awkwardly. He reluctantly handed the baby back to me. “Clara, take good care of her. Once this merger is finalized, I’ll come home and spend some time with you.” But that “merger” had seemingly dragged on for nearly three months. I heard rumors through the grapevine that he had purchased a luxury penthouse in the city he was supposedly “traveling” to, just to be closer to his new project. Noah’s expression turned dangerously dark. He pulled his phone from his pocket, preparing to dial. I quickly reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t call him. He’s busy…” What I didn’t say was: If you call him without an appointment, he might get so angry he cuts off the pathetic $800 allowance next month. Noah scoffed coldly. “Busy? Busy buying gowns for Chloe?” “It’s all over our social circles. Everyone’s talking about it. He supposedly bought out the entire VIP floor of Cartier for his little assistant’s birthday.” “He dropped fifty grand on a custom haute couture gown for her, and didn’t even blink.” I lowered my head, my fingernails digging painfully into my palms. So everyone knew. Everyone knew, while I sat locked in this apartment like an absolute fool, stretching $800 to keep my baby alive. Seeing the color drain from my face, Noah realized he had overstepped. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I think Arthur is being a monumental piece of shit to you.” Noah looked around the barren, empty apartment and sighed heavily. He immediately opened his phone and placed a massive grocery delivery order—fresh vegetables, meats, and weeks worth of baby supplies. “Clara, you can’t be this passive. If Arthur keeps treating you like this, you need to divorce him.” Since I was his best friend’s wife, he had to tread carefully. He offered the advice, but couldn’t force me to take it. But we had a child together. And my body had been severely damaged during a traumatic delivery. If I divorced him, what would happen to my daughter? Despite everything, I was profoundly grateful Noah came. His groceries meant my baby and I wouldn’t starve for at least another two weeks. Two days later, my phone rang. It was my mother-in-law. “Clara, sweetheart! I’m planning to drive up and visit you and the baby later this week. Oh, by the way, did that $10,000 allowance I sent you last month clear your account?” I froze completely. “Ten thousand dollars? When did this happen?” Hearing my confusion, my mother-in-law’s tone immediately shifted to serious concern. “You didn’t get it?” “That idiot son of mine… I explicitly told him to transfer it to you. What the hell is he doing?!” “Mom…” My lips were trembling uncontrollably. “Arthur handed over all household finances to his assistant, Chloe. Everything goes through her now.” “Last time I asked, Chloe told me you were furious that I had a girl instead of a boy, so you refused to send me a single cent…” My mother-in-law inhaled sharply through her teeth, muttering a vicious curse under her breath. “That bastard!” “Clara, stay right there. I am driving over right now, and I am going to handle this!” Half an hour later, the doorbell rang aggressively. The moment my mother-in-law laid eyes on me, her face contorted in shock. “You…” Her eyes swept over my swollen, puffy face and exhausted, disheveled appearance. Profound heartbreak filled her eyes. “Oh, my poor girl… Has that animal been starving you?!” She rushed over and picked up the baby, her eyes blazing with absolute fury. Chapter 4 “She’s only a few months old, and she’s wearing a single, paper-thin onesie?!” “What kind of father is Arthur playing at?!” I looked down at the faded, cheap cotton onesie my daughter was wearing. It was a clearance rack item I had found at a discount store for $3. It was literally the cheapest piece of clothing I owned for her. I remembered the disgusted look the cashier had given me. “If you’re going to be this cheap with a baby, why even have one?” “Can’t afford it, shouldn’t breed.” The words had burned like acid in my chest. Who would believe that the woman buying a $3 clearance onesie was married to a multi-millionaire CEO? If I told anyone, they’d assume I was insane. “Where is the night nurse?” my mother-in-law demanded. “Chloe said… she said the night nurse was here for one day, and then she fired her.” My mother-in-law looked bewildered. “What right does she have to fire your staff?!” I whispered, “Chloe told me I needed to learn how to raise my own child. She said if millions of other women can do it without help, why shouldn’t I?” My mother-in-law slammed her hand down violently on the kitchen island. “Outrageous! Since when does a hired assistant dictate how the Sterling family operates?!” She dropped off the bags of high-end baby clothes and supplies she had bought, then immediately pulled out her phone and wired $10,000 directly into my personal account. Looking furious, she marched out the door, swearing she was going straight to the corporate office to tear Chloe apart. I genuinely believed the nightmare was over. But whatever Chloe said to her behind closed doors must have been incredibly persuasive. When my mother-in-law finally called me back hours later, her tone was entirely different. It was laced with awkward hesitation. “Clara, honey… I know the $800 a month was an awful misunderstanding, and you suffered immensely.” “But… Chloe explained things to me. She had her reasons for doing what she did.” “Just try to be a little more accommodating, okay?” I stared at the text message transcription of the voicemail for a very, very long time. I let out a desolate, hollow laugh. I didn’t know what “reasons” the little assistant could possibly have invented. I only knew that my mother-in-law, who had sworn to protect me hours ago, was now standing on the enemy’s side. A few weeks passed. Noah showed up at my apartment again, carrying several large shopping bags. He was practically a regular now. The moment he walked in, he started doing my laundry, cleaning the apartment, and prepping meals in the kitchen. Even my daughter would coo and smile at him. In those fleeting moments, it felt like a bizarre alternate reality where the three of us were a family. That evening, Arthur unexpectedly unlocked the front door. He walked in, took one look at his best friend holding his baby and cooking in his kitchen, and his face turned an ugly, livid purple. He marched over and grabbed Noah violently by the collar. “Noah, what the fuck are you doing in my house holding my kid?!” Noah glared back at him, his face like stone. “You neglect your own wife, and you have the balls to interrogate me? You’re a hotshot CEO, and you give your wife $800 a month to survive? Is that supposed to be a joke?” “You probably spent more than that on the socks you bought your little assistant!” Arthur completely froze. He whipped his head around, staring at me in utter disbelief. “What $800 a month?! I clearly authorized a transfer of $8,000 a month!” Noah was stunned. I was paralyzed. My face went deathly pale. A freezing chill crept up my spine. “Wh… what did you say?” “It was only $800. How could it be $8,000?” “Starting from your fifth month of pregnancy, I explicitly instructed Chloe to wire $8,000 a month from the corporate expense account directly to your debit card.” Arthur, desperate to prove he wasn’t lying, yanked his phone out and pulled up the corporate ledger. “Look at it yourself.” The ledger indeed showed a recurring monthly transfer of $8,000. But the receiving account ended in 5188. I stared at it in silence before finally speaking. “My debit card ends in 7312.” Arthur’s face drastically changed colors. “Chloe said you closed that account. She said you thought it was compromised, so you gave her your new routing numbers…” His voice trailed off, dropping lower and lower, a flicker of profound confusion flashing in his eyes. “Don’t tell me… you never closed your account? That routing number isn’t yours?” I shook my head slowly. “It’s not mine.” Arthur stood completely rigid, like he had turned to stone. “That’s impossible. Chloe would never lie to me.”

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The company had just landed a massive account, requiring the entire staff to work overtime for thirty days straight. To compensate my team, I allocated $300,000 as a project bonus—exactly $20,000 for each of my fifteen employees. But when I walked into the office the next morning, I was met with a wall of cold, hostile faces. I fought to suppress the rising anger in my chest. Over the past six months alone, I had paid out over $4,000 in extra bonuses per person, yet their attitude toward me was growing increasingly toxic. Just as I was about to call them into the conference room to clear the air, a series of strange, disembodied voices suddenly echoed in my ears. [What a cheap bitch. She promised us a massive bonus for landing this project, and she gives us twenty bucks?] [Is she trying to brush us off like beggars? Honestly, just looking at her makes me sick.] [All she does is make empty promises. How has this idiot not been hit by a bus yet?] I froze in my tracks, unable to believe my own ears. Twenty bucks? Then where the hell did my $300,000 go? 1 The moment I stepped into the bullpen, the usual morning chatter died instantly. Employees side-eyed me, their faces twisted with undisguised disgust. I was completely baffled. Most startups don’t pay out project bonuses until the client’s final invoice clears. But the moment this contract was signed, I immediately authorized a $20,000 bonus per person. Even if they didn’t want to say thank you, what was with the eye rolls? I pulled out my phone and texted my best friend, Chloe, who also served as the company’s Finance Director. She replied almost instantly: [The staff is complaining. They think the bonus is way too low.] [They did the math and know this contract brings in over $2 million. They’re saying you’re greedy for only giving up $300k. Lauren, maybe we should add a little more?] My temples throbbed violently. Last month, for the Fourth of July, I gave everyone a $5,000 holiday bonus. Chloe told me then that the staff thought it was cheap. Now, I give them $20,000, and it’s still not enough. My fingers hit the screen so hard I almost cracked the glass: [I am not adding a single cent. If they think it’s too low, they can quit. The job market is terrible right now—do they really think I can’t replace them?] Right after I hit send, a voice echoed in my ear again. [So fucking stingy. We land a multi-million dollar account and she gives us a twenty-dollar bill? Does she think we’re panhandlers?] I snapped my head up, looking through the glass walls of my office into the bullpen. No one was talking. And even if they were, there was no way I could hear them this clearly through soundproof glass. I rubbed my ears. Was I hallucinating? Another voice drifted in, sending a chill down my spine. [Always feeding us corporate bullshit, and she expects us to work a 30-day crunch for this? Screw her!] That was Brenda’s voice. But Brenda was sitting at her desk, typing furiously. Her mouth was completely shut. More voices began flooding in. Kevin, Josh, Lily… one insult after another echoed in my mind. It hit me like a freight train. I was hearing their inner thoughts. I shook my head hard, trying to organize the barrage of information. Every single one of them was complaining that I had only given them a twenty-dollar bonus. But I had explicitly authorized $300,000! Thinking back to the hostility when I walked in, I realized there had to be a massive misunderstanding. Chloe was the one who processed the payroll. Did she make a clerical error? Just as I was about to text Chloe for clarification, a few more thoughts drifted into my mind. [At least Chloe is generous. She paid us a thousand bucks out of her own pocket.] [If it wasn’t for Chloe holding this place together, I would’ve walked out weeks ago.] [Same with the Fourth of July. Lauren didn’t give us a dime, but Chloe gave everyone five hundred bucks.] [We have the worst, cheapest CEO on the planet.] My hands went completely numb. Chloe paid them out of her own pocket? But I had formally authorized and transferred funds for every single one of those bonuses! Where did my money go? A seed of horrifying suspicion sprouted in my chest. My hands began to shake. Chloe. My best friend of fifteen years. When my startup finally became profitable, the very first thing I did was rescue her from a miserable, dead-end $30,000-a-year administrative job. I paid for her accounting courses. I paid for her CPA exams. I made her my Finance Director with a base salary of $150,000. Everyone told me I was overpaying her. I didn’t care. She was my best friend. I wanted her to succeed. How could she possibly be setting me up? While my brain was spiraling into chaos, my phone buzzed with an urgent notification. 2 Mr. Sterling, our primary venture capital investor, sent me a link to a Reddit thread. His follow-up text was furious. “What the hell is this? Lauren, you better have an explanation!” “Because of your arrogance, the entire internet is dragging your company through the mud. Are you trying to bankrupt my investment?!” I quickly clicked the link. It was a viral post on a popular anti-work subreddit. [Arrogant Tech CEO: If my employees are unhappy, they can roll over and die. I can always hire more.] Attached to the post was a screenshot of my text conversation with Chloe. But all the context had been completely edited out. Only two messages remained: [The staff is complaining. They think the bonus is way too low.] [If they think it’s too low, they can quit. The job market is terrible right now—do they really think I can’t replace them?] The comment section was an absolute bloodbath. [What an arrogant sociopath. Everyone needs to boycott this agency. Let’s see if she can hire anyone when her reputation is in the gutter!] [A CEO this toxic doesn’t deserve clients either. Boycott their products immediately!] [Agreed. Anyone who does business with her is garbage.] I panicked and called Mr. Sterling immediately. “Mr. Sterling, there is a massive misunderstanding here…” “I just want to know one thing,” he interrupted, his voice deafening. “Did you type those words?” “I did, but the screenshot is heavily manipulated. I only said that because they were complaining that a twenty-thousand-dollar bonus was too low…” “I don’t care about the context!” Sterling roared. “I only care that your company is facing a catastrophic PR crisis!” “I injected three million dollars into this agency. If I lose that money because of your stupid ego, I will sue you into oblivion and take everything you own!” He slammed the phone down. I let out a bitter laugh. Take everything I own. Even if I liquidated my life, I couldn’t cover three million dollars. I stared at the doctored screenshot. Combined with the inner thoughts I had just heard, I was absolutely certain: Chloe was intentionally trying to destroy me. But why? Greed? If she just wanted the money, she could have quietly skimmed the bonuses. Why manufacture a viral PR crisis that threatened to sink the entire company? If my company went under, where else was she going to find a job paying $150,000 a year? I forced myself to breathe and organize my thoughts. Should I confront her? How? Right on cue, Chloe burst into my office, looking frantic and breathless. “Lauren! The Reddit post! Did you see the post?!” I looked up at her. The viral thread was glowing brightly on her phone screen. “I saw it.” “Chloe, why was our private conversation edited and leaked to the internet?” Chloe immediately put on a masterclass in guilt and panic. “I went to the restroom earlier and left my phone on my desk! Someone must have grabbed it and taken a screenshot…” “But they don’t know your passcode,” I said flatly. “I had to pee so badly I forgot to lock it! I swear!” I stared at her, my face completely devoid of emotion. “That is an incredible amount of coincidences.” “You just happened to leave your phone unlocked, someone just happened to sneak into your office, and they just happened to scroll directly to our conversation and take a perfectly cropped screenshot.” Chloe froze for a second, then her face morphed into defensive anger. “What are you implying, Lauren? Are you seriously accusing me?” “After everything I’ve done for you? I constantly cover for you when the staff is pissed off, I am your best friend, and you don’t even trust me?!” The employees’ inner thoughts drifted through the glass once again. [This Reddit post is a masterpiece. The investors are going to lose their minds.] [When the dust settles, we’ll all sign a petition demanding the board make Chloe the CEO.] [Chloe promised that if she takes over, our project bonuses will instantly be $10,000! Lauren needs to get the hell out!] So that was it. Chloe didn’t just want the stolen bonuses. She wanted to steal my entire company. I stared at her, my blood turning to ice. Chloe was still putting on her performance of righteous indignation and tearful victimhood. “You know what? Fine. I’ll take the fall. I’ll post an update saying I photoshopped the texts as a joke and let the internet tear me apart instead. Will that make you happy?” I nodded slowly. “Okay. Do it.” 3 If her ultimate goal was to manipulate the investors into making her CEO, there was absolutely no way she was going to publicly ruin her own reputation. I wanted to see how she would squirm her way out of this. Chloe stared at me in pure shock, the words dying in her throat. She clearly expected me to react the way I always did—protecting her, shielding her, and telling her I would take the blame. She shot me a venomous glare, turned on her heel, and stormed out of the office. Through the glass, I watched the employees swarm around her while she wiped away fake tears and whispered to them. An hour later, I knocked on her office door. “I thought you said you were going to post a confession to clear my name? Why haven’t you posted it yet?” My voice was loud enough for the entire bullpen to hear. Right on cue, the furious inner thoughts of the staff ignited. [Does she have no shame? Forcing Chloe to take the fall for her own toxic text messages?] [When is the investor going to reply to our petition? I don’t want to work under Lauren for another second.] [If Chloe hadn’t made us swear to secrecy, I would expose exactly how much of her own money she’s spent covering Lauren’s cheap ass. Let’s see how Lauren defends that.] [She wouldn’t care. She’s a shameless, greedy capitalist!] Chloe looked up at me with wide, pitiful eyes. “I wanted to post it, but Mr. Sterling wouldn’t let me.” I raised an eyebrow. “You contacted Sterling?” “I just wanted to consult him on the best PR strategy to handle the post…” My phone rang. Mr. Sterling’s name flashed on the screen. “Lauren, have you completely lost your mind?! Throwing your Finance Director under the bus right now? Do you think the internet is stupid?!” “I’ve been monitoring the chatter. Your entire staff is fiercely loyal to Chloe. They’ve explicitly asked for her to take over operations.” “This is the only way to save your company. If we swap the CEO and the employees publicly back the new leadership, the internet mob will back off.” My tone was completely clinical. “So, you’re telling me to step down from the company I built?” Sterling’s voice was absolute ice. “Exactly. As the primary investor, I have the leverage to force a leadership change.” “Per the buyout clause in our contract, you take a $300,000 severance and walk away. The company is no longer your concern.” “You can refuse, but ask yourself—how long can your agency survive this level of toxic PR?” “If you refuse and the company tanks, you don’t get the severance, and I will sue you for the full three million.” I looked at Chloe. Her face was arranged into an expression of deep concern and anxiety. But the corners of her mouth were violently twitching, desperately trying to suppress a triumphant smile. The two conflicting emotions warred on her face, making her look absolutely unhinged. She didn’t know whether to look devastated or thrilled. Her grotesque, twisted expression actually made me laugh. “Mr. Sterling, I will consider your offer.” I hung up the phone. Chloe stared at the smile on my face, her anxiety spiking. “What did Mr. Sterling say?!” I dropped the smile and spoke slowly, enunciating every word: “I’m stepping down. You’re the new CEO.” Chloe visibly exhaled a massive sigh of relief, though her mouth immediately began spewing fake humility. “I can’t do that! This is your life’s work! I don’t have what it takes to run this place…” I cut her off. “It’s what the employees want.” “Chloe, I heard you gave everyone a thousand-dollar bonus out of your own pocket?” 4 Chloe froze, her eyes darting nervously. “I did, but I only did it for your sake! They were furious about the low bonus you gave them, so I supplemented it to keep the peace.” “Twenty thousand wasn’t enough, but adding a thousand made it okay?” Chloe rolled her eyes dismissively. “You know how these entry-level workers are. They just wanted to complain and test your boundaries. Just ignore them.” She watched my face carefully, testing the waters. “Lauren, since the investors have already made the call, why don’t you just hand the reins over to me for now?” “Don’t misunderstand! I have zero interest in being the CEO. I just want to help you stabilize the investors.” “Once this whole PR nightmare blows over, I’ll give it right back to you.” The guilt and deceit in her voice were so thick you could cut them with a knife. I reached out, grabbed her hands, and smiled warmly. “Thank you so much, Chloe. What would I ever do without you?” Under Chloe’s ecstatic, expectant gaze, I called Mr. Sterling back. “Mr. Sterling. I’m stepping down. Chloe can have it.” Sterling’s voice was strictly business. “We sign the transfer paperwork at 2:00 PM today. I will be there in person.” The second I turned my back, Chloe’s suppressed smile finally erupted across her face in absolute, euphoric triumph. I clenched my fists. Laugh all you want. Let’s see if you’re still smiling in three hours. I picked up my phone and sent a mass email to several major tech and business journalists. At 2:00 PM, Mr. Sterling and his legal team walked into the office. In the main conference room, the lawyers spread the transfer and severance documents out in front of me. Behind them, the journalists I had invited were already setting up their cameras, eager for the scoop. Sterling frowned deeply. “Who called the press?” I looked at him with absolute sincerity. “I did.” “Since my actions brought negative PR to the company, I felt it was only appropriate to step down publicly.” “Furthermore, I want to issue a formal, public apology to my employees.” Chloe looked frantic, a deep layer of panic hiding just beneath her urgency. “Mr. Sterling, I really think we should just sign the papers and get this over with. We don’t need any more complications.” Sterling frowned, considering it. I didn’t say a word, but I knew the phrase “public apology” was exactly what he wanted to hear to appease the internet mob. A moment later, Sterling’s authoritative voice echoed through the room. “Bring the staff in.” The conference room quickly filled to capacity. Brenda rolled her eyes at me. Kevin let out a cold scoff, mouthing the words “Serves you right.” Almost every single face in the room radiated the sick thrill of watching my downfall. Meeting their hostile glares, I stood up and offered a deep bow. “Thank you all for your hard work alongside me these past few years.” “Before I sign these papers and leave, I have one final question. If I don’t get an answer to this, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep at night.” Chloe grabbed my arm, whispering frantically in my ear. “Why are you wasting time talking to these ungrateful vultures? Just sign the papers and go!” I intentionally raised my voice so the microphones would catch it. “Chloe, it seems like you really don’t want me to speak. What exactly are you afraid of?” Chloe immediately backed off, waving her hands. “I’m not afraid of anything! I’m just thinking about the company’s reputation…” Mr. Sterling’s brow furrowed. “Lauren, I thought you were here to apologize. What is this question you need to ask?” My tone was perfectly, chillingly calm. “I only have one question. If asking this question causes any financial damage to your investment, I will personally cover the losses.” Chloe panicked. “Mr. Sterling, they are live-streaming this! You can’t let her just say whatever she wants!” I smiled faintly. “I haven’t even asked the question yet. How do you know I’m going to say something inappropriate?” Sterling looked at Chloe, a flicker of suspicion finally entering his eyes. Chloe hesitated, then stiffened her neck, trying to play the victim. “I’m just trying to protect you! What if…” The journalists, smelling blood in the water, aggressively shoved their microphones past Chloe. “Lauren, what is your question?” “Do you still feel you did nothing wrong?” The employees sneered, crossing their arms, waiting to see what kind of pathetic excuse I was going to spin. I turned my back to the cameras and looked directly at my staff. My expression was dead serious, laced with genuine confusion. “I just want to ask you guys…” “I authorized a twenty-thousand-dollar bonus for every single one of you, and you called me cheap.” “Chloe gives you one thousand dollars, and you’re so thrilled you’re ready to stage a coup to make her CEO.” “Why? I’ve racked my brain, and I simply cannot understand the logic.” “Can someone please explain it to me?”

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In my past life, the underprivileged student my boyfriend sponsored offered to donate her bone marrow to me. Our match was a perfect ten-out-of-ten. My parents immediately treated her like their own daughter, even gifting her half the shares of our family’s company. But my boyfriend constantly claimed she was “feeling unwell,” delaying the surgery again and again. On the day of the seventh delay, I had already completed the myeloablative conditioning. I lay in the hospital, waiting to die. Right before I took my last breath, my boyfriend appeared before me, holding her hand. “Chloe, it’s Chloe’s kindness if she wants to donate, and her right if she doesn’t.” “You can’t be selfish and demand she sacrifice her body to save you just because you got dealt a bad hand in life.” “Don’t worry, after you’re gone, Chloe and I will get married and take care of your parents together.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Chloe first offered to donate her bone marrow. My boyfriend, Ethan, was holding her hand, beaming: “Nora, you’re saved! Chloe is willing to donate her bone marrow, and you’re a perfect match!” In the next second, I picked up my phone and dialed 911. “Hello, someone is attempting premeditated murder and fraud under the guise of a bone marrow donation.” …… Chloe and Ethan both froze. Ethan reacted first, snatching the phone from my hand. “Officer, I apologize. My girlfriend and I are having a disagreement, she’s just upset.” Chloe chimed in to smooth things over, her eyes turning red as her voice trembled. “Nora, why would you suddenly call the police…” “I just came here out of the goodness of my heart to help you. If you don’t want it, I’ll just leave.” My parents hurried in from the hallway. I didn’t want them to worry, so I played along and hung up the phone. “Nora, what happened? Why are the police involved?” My mom frowned, her gaze shifting between Ethan and Chloe. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, Ethan stepped in front of me, smiling gently: “It’s nothing, Mrs. Davis. Nora is just joking around. She’s been in a bad mood lately, she’s a bit temperamental.” Chloe chimed in, her voice soft and carrying a hint of grievance. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Davis, I’m Chloe.” “Ethan found out that my bone marrow is a perfect ten-point match for Nora!” “I thought I could save her, so I couldn’t wait and came right over.” “But Nora didn’t say a word and just called the police, saying we were trying to hurt her.” Her eyes reddened, and tears fell on cue: “I was only trying to help. Nora must have misunderstood me somehow.” My mom’s eyes lit up instantly. She grabbed Chloe’s hand. “Really? A perfect ten-point match?” My dad’s voice trembled with excitement: “This is an absolute miracle!” Ethan smiled and pulled me into his arms, ruffling my hair just like he used to do countless times before. “Don’t overthink it, Mrs. Davis. Nora is probably just a little jealous.” “Chloe is a scholarship student I sponsor. Today is the first time we’ve actually met.” “Nora, stop acting out.” He looked down at me, his voice dripping with tenderness, “It’s so hard to find such a perfect match. If we miss this, we might never find another one.” I leaned against his chest, smelling the familiar, clean scent of his cologne. For a moment, I almost believed that everything from my past life was just a nightmare. He and I were childhood sweethearts, the couple everyone envied. From high school prom to medical school white coats, he always held my hand, promising we’d get married as soon as I recovered. It sounded so perfect. But the next second, the bone-deep agony of the myeloablative conditioning surged through my memory. Seven times. Seven separate times, he built my hopes up, only to shatter them. Until I lay in that freezing hospital room waiting to die, and he was still telling me I needed to be more “understanding.” I wasn’t going to live in a fantasy anymore. My parents had already pulled Chloe over to the sofa, calling her “sweetheart” and “an angel.” I heard my mom say: “To find someone as kind as Chloe who is also a perfect match… it truly is a blessing.” “Our Nora is finally saved.” No one bothered to ask what I thought. All they saw was the fragile lifeline that could vanish at any moment. I gently slipped out of Ethan’s embrace without drawing attention and turned toward the restroom. The moment the door closed behind me, I leaned against it and let out a long breath. In this life, my parents wouldn’t believe me because they were too desperate for hope. Ethan wouldn’t believe me because his heart was never really mine to begin with. I couldn’t gamble my life on a ticking time bomb who could change her mind at any moment, nor could I trust a childhood sweetheart whose loyalty shifted like the wind. This time, my life was going to stay in my own hands. I dialed a number, my voice so calm it sounded foreign even to me. “I need a favor.” The next day, my conversation with Chloe was heavily edited, taken completely out of context, and posted online. She offered her bone marrow, and I called the cops on her. The comment section overwhelmingly praised her and attacked me. “She’s willing to donate bone marrow to a stranger? What kind of angel is she!” “She’s beautiful inside and out, and she gets bitten for it? I’m literally crying.” “A perfect ten-point match! She’s literally a gift from God sent to save her, and she calls the cops?!” “Does an ungrateful person like that even deserve to be saved? It’s a waste of medical resources!” “She’s probably just jealous that the girl is young and pretty. She’s scared her boyfriend will get stolen, so she’s throwing her life away over it!” “I hope the girl decides not to donate and lets this ungrateful brat fend for herself!” I stared at the screen, my stomach churning. In my past life, I listened to the comments and was overflowing with gratitude toward Chloe. And what did that get me? Nothing but endless “unwell” excuses and the despair of waiting for death. That afternoon, relatives from the Davis family and several senior shareholders of our company arrived. They crowded around my hospital bed, and not a single one asked how I was feeling. The first thing they said was: “Nora, you are being incredibly immature!” “Chloe is such a wonderful girl, why would you call the police on her? How are we supposed to explain this to the public?” “If this gets out, the Davis Group will be a laughingstock!” My parents sat off to the side, looking grim. After a while, my dad sighed: “Nora, we’d like to legally adopt Chloe to give her a proper status in the family.” “She doesn’t have any backing, and she’s willing to save you despite feeling wronged.” “The Davis family needs to give her a sense of security so she doesn’t feel unappreciated.” I flatly refused, which only earned me disappointed looks from my parents. “Nora, you’re an adult now, you shouldn’t treat your life like a game.” That night, the hospital room grew quiet. Ethan arrived. He tucked the blankets around me and gently stroked my cheek. “Nora, are you still mad?” “What am I going to do with you? I just want you to live.” My nose stung. For a split second, I almost wanted to ask him outright— Ethan, why did you do that to me in my past life? Why did you just stand there and watch me die? But before the words could leave my mouth, His next sentence plunged me straight back into the ice. “Tomorrow, issue a public statement and apologize to Chloe.” “Just say your illness was affecting your judgment and you acted impulsively.” He ruffled my hair, speaking as if he were placating a stubborn child. “Nora, trust me. I’ll make sure Chloe saves you.” “But she’s a wonderful girl, and she’s your savior. I have to look out for her too.” I stared at the ceiling, remaining silent. The man making sweet promises now was the same man who left me to die in my past life. The next day, I had someone look into the bone marrow registry. When the results came back, my blood ran cold. My parents had canceled the expedited search in the international registries. Their reasoning— “If Chloe found out, she might think we didn’t trust her. That would be so hurtful.” Ethan, using his connections, had also suppressed the backup matching protocols. He had personally told the doctors: “Nora has a perfect match. Everything else can be put on hold.” So, my life was now entirely dependent on Chloe alone. And right on cue, the surgery date was delayed for the first time. Clutching her chest, looking pale and teary-eyed, Chloe told my parents: “Mr. and Mrs. Davis, I’ve been feeling… a little anemic lately.” “I really want to save Nora, but the doctors said my body is too weak right now to handle the extraction.” “As soon as I recover, I will do it immediately…” My parents were incredibly anxious, but instead of blaming her, they threw an adoption banquet. At the banquet, Chloe became the adopted daughter of the Davis family and moved into our home. Wearing the designer gown my mother bought her, she clung to Ethan’s arm the entire evening. They looked like a happy couple at their own wedding. I curled up in my hospital bed watching the live stream. In my phone, messages from Ethan sat unread. “Nora, Chloe is just trying to be in the best possible shape so she can donate her marrow to you.” “She’s so kind-hearted, and now she’s your sister. You can’t bully her anymore!” “Does her ‘pure kindness’ require my family to pay a deposit upfront?” He sent several more messages later. “Nora, Chloe is your sister now. We’re a family, don’t say such ugly things.” “We’re doing all of this for your own good, why don’t you understand?” I didn’t reply to a single one. By evening, I started feeling unwell. Waves of nausea hit me, and my body felt like it was submerged in ice water. Just then, the door to the room was pushed open aggressively. My parents and Ethan walked in, followed by Chloe, whose eyes were swollen and red. Ethan shoved his phone into my face. On the screen was the exact message I had sent that morning. “Nora, what is the meaning of this?” My dad’s face was stern: “Do you know Chloe has been crying all afternoon?” “She’s pouring her heart out trying to save you, and you constantly attack her with these vicious comments!” I leaned against the headboard, my back drenched in a cold sweat. “She cried all afternoon.” I managed a weak smile. “And what about me? I’m lying here waiting to die, has anyone bothered to ask how I am?” My mom’s eyes reddened, but her words were like daggers: “Nora, when did you become so bitter?” “Chloe is saving your life! You’d be dead without her!” “Biting the hand that feeds you… you’re an embarrassment to the Davis family!” Chloe sobbed on cue, hiding behind Ethan, her voice barely a whisper: “Nora, I know you don’t like me… but I really just want to save you!” “If you don’t want to see me, I… I can just leave.” Don’t like her? I stared at her pitiful, innocent face, and suddenly I laughed. In my past life, I adored her. I even pushed Ethan to go take care of her. But the final delay of the procedure didn’t happen until after my myeloablative conditioning was complete. If it had happened before the conditioning, I still would have had a chance to find another match. But once the conditioning was done, I had at most seven days to live. The utter despair of lying in a hospital bed watching my life slip away washed over me again. I reached for the call button. But Ethan grabbed my hand before I could press it. “Starting today, we’re cutting off her painkillers.” He looked at me, his eyes devoid of any warmth. “You like calling the cops? You like causing trouble?” “We’ve spoiled you too much!” “The surgery is soon anyway. You can just deal with it for a few days.” “If we don’t let you suffer a bit so you learn your lesson, you’ll never appreciate how good Chloe is to you!” A sharp, piercing pain ripped through my chest. The immune system of a leukemia patient is already fragile. Removing pain management would cause the risk of infection to skyrocket. Before, if I even looked slightly uncomfortable, he would rush to get the doctor to ask if I needed painkillers. Now, when I was in so much pain I felt like I was drowning, he cut off my medication just for Chloe’s sake. I turned to look at my parents. They exchanged a glance, hesitating for a moment. Chloe covered her mouth and started crying again, tears streaming down her face. “It’s all my fault, I keep making Nora angry. I shouldn’t even be here.” “I’ll leave right now, so I don’t upset her anymore. Please don’t fight because of me.” My mom immediately relented, gritting her teeth. “Chloe, you did nothing wrong! Ethan is right! She needs to learn a lesson!” With that, they turned and left, taking Chloe with them without a backward glance. By evening, the attending physician had heard about the online drama. When he came in for rounds, he rolled his eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck. He took my temperature roughly and his words were harsh: “Some people are about to die, and they still want to stir up drama!” “I’d say she deserves this illness! She hasn’t suffered enough!” As he walked out the door, his conversation with the nurse drifted in: “That’s her! Someone volunteers to donate bone marrow, and she calls the cops claiming they’re trying to murder her for her money!” “Ugh, she must have a persecution complex. If you ask me, they shouldn’t even bother saving her!” I gripped the edge of my blanket tightly, my nails digging into my palms. Just then, the hospital notified me that I was cleared to begin the pre-transplant evaluation. A second later, Ethan walked in, his face dark. “No. Chloe suddenly spiked a fever. The extraction has to be delayed.” My blood ran cold. It was happening exactly the same way. In my past life, Ethan also said she had a “fever,” “anemia,” or “was in a bad mood.” Once, twice… seven delays. Until I died in that hospital bed. Ethan turned to me, his tone filled with intense irritation. “This is all because of your attitude today! Chloe is so upset she got sick!” “She’s such a kind soul, how is she supposed to handle your malicious accusations?” “You’re becoming increasingly unreasonable! It’s actually disgusting!” He pulled out a document and slammed it down in front of me. “Sign it. A Voluntary Deferment Agreement.” “When Chloe feels better, we’ll schedule the surgery.” “I won’t sign it.” He glared at me and tried to physically grab my medical chart and ID. I was thrown to the floor in the struggle. A flash of panic crossed his eyes. He quickly picked me up and put me back on the bed. “Nora, be good. Stop fighting it. Everyone is just trying to do what’s best for you.” His tone was as gentle as it used to be before Chloe showed up. But in my past life, he used this exact same tone to discuss my funeral arrangements. After he left, I locked the door and dialed that number. “I just finalized everything. We’ll arrange a transfer the day after tomorrow, and proceed directly to surgery.” “Okay.” After hanging up, my heart finally settled. But the next day, Chloe suddenly announced she was feeling better and ready to prepare for the surgery. The plan was to finish the pre-op evaluation today, and begin the myeloablative conditioning tomorrow. Once the conditioning started, my life would be on a countdown. Yet my parents and Ethan showed no concern, nor did they have any intention of discussing it with me. That afternoon, orderlies and nurses filed into the room, preparing to wheel my bed toward the transplant isolation unit. “I’m not going!” I grabbed the edge of the bed frame desperately. Ethan smiled warmly, but his grip on my arm didn’t loosen: “Nora, Chloe is already prepping for the extraction! Stop being a brat!” Chloe stood by the door, tears welling in her eyes. “Nora, I’ve already had the mobilization injections. If you back out now…” “I’m not doing it.” My dad’s face darkened, “This isn’t up to you!” Several orderlies stepped forward to restrain me. In the struggle, my IV pole crashed heavily onto the floor. Chloe quickly ducked behind Ethan, tears streaming down her face. “Nora, I’m sacrificing my body to save you. Why do you have to trample on my good intentions like this?” “Even if you hate me, you can’t just throw your life away!” My mom hugged her protectively, turning to shoot me a venomous glare. “Nora Davis, do you know how much Chloe has suffered for you?! When are you going to stop this nonsense?” “Don’t worry, Chloe,” my dad said, using a tone of parental warmth I had never heard directed at me. “You go focus on the surgery. I will transfer 50% of the company’s shares to your name.” “If you save Nora, you are the savior of the Davis family. The Davis family will never mistreat you.” Chloe’s eyes sparkled, though she feigned reluctance. “Mr. Davis, I couldn’t possibly… I want to save Nora, but not for the money.” My mom tearfully squeezed her hand. “Sweetheart, you deserve it. You are our family’s lucky charm.” Listening to them, my stomach churned violently. The orderlies pinned my arms and legs down. Ethan coldly dropped three words. “Strap her down.” The restraint straps tightened around my wrists and ankles, biting into my skin. My phone slipped from under the blankets. Amid the chaos, I managed to dial that number. A second later, Ethan snatched the phone away. “Nora, you’d rather trust an outsider than us?” He forcefully ended the call and threw the phone into the trash can. “What do you think he can possibly do today?” I stared at him, articulating every word clearly: “Once the conditioning starts, I have at most seven days to live!” “If she backs out, I will be lying there waiting to die!” “Have any of you even considered that?!”

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I had what the doctors loosely termed an allergy to happiness. Whenever genuine joy brushed against my life, my body turned on itself. In mild episodes, angry crimson hives erupted across my neck and forearms; in severe ones, my airway constricted, sending me into full-blown anaphylactic shock. My father told me I had cheap blood—that someone born into the gutter was never meant to taste the good life. My younger brother, Devon, scoffed and called me a drama queen, convinced I was manufacturing medical emergencies for attention. Even years later, after I had ground myself to bone to build a multimillion-dollar company from scratch, my status at home never changed. Every time I stepped through their front door, I was still expected to keep my head down and quietly stomach their lukewarm leftovers over the kitchen sink. Then Lauren came along. With Lauren, I had my first birthday cake in twenty-five years. She was the first person to remember my sensitive stomach, pressing thermoses of warm ginger tea into my hands before I even realized I was hurting. Yet the more tender she became, the more violent my reactions grew. Lying in the intensive care unit, oxygen hissing through a plastic mask, I gripped her wrist and whispered, “Please… stop being so good to me. It’s going to kill me.” Tears had welled in her hazel eyes as she wrapped her arms around my trembling frame. “Don’t you ever say that. If it takes a lifetime, I’ll desensitize you. I’ll teach your body how to be loved.” The reaction had flared like gasoline on an open flame. My lungs seized, starving for air. Yet looking into the fierce sincerity of her gaze, I had actually believed that suffocating in her arms was a mercy. Desperate to spare her the burden of watching me deteriorate, I quietly discharged myself early. But when I reached the house, the front door was cracked open. Inside, Devon was sobbing into our father’s chest. “Lauren’s given him everything! Why hasn’t he died yet…?” My father stroked Devon’s hair with tender, aching pity. A heartbeat later, Lauren’s voice drifted out from the kitchen, cool and measured. “The moment he clears out of the clinic, I’ll propose.” “I’m already the managing director,” she continued softly. “Once his heart finally gives out, the company—and I—belong to you.” A single, freezing tear tracked down my cheek. I pulled out my phone, dialed human resources, and quietly revoked Lauren’s executive clearance. If the love had been counterfeit all along, then this allergy had run its course. 1 I pushed the front door open. The metallic click of the latch froze the three of them mid-breath. Lauren reacted first. Smooth as silk, she stepped forward, relieving me of my duffel bag with practiced grace. “Ian? Honey, why didn’t you stay another couple of days? Look at how pale you are. Are you hungry? I’ll make you some soup.” As she slipped my coat off my shoulders, her eyes drifted to the exposed skin of my neck. It was smooth. Pale. Not a single trace of red, not the faintest hint of a rising welt. A flicker of genuine shock flashed across her face. The bitterness in my throat tasted like copper. “What’s the matter?” I asked quietly. “Disappointed my throat didn’t close up?” Lauren’s eyes shifted away. My father let out a dry, venomous scoff. “Drop the act, Ian. Lauren bends over backward to care for you, and you walk in here looking like you want to murder someone? Who do you think you are?” Devon wiped his cheeks, his chin quivering with righteous indignation. “Exactly! Hasn’t Lauren treated you well enough? You turn every act of kindness into a life-or-death spectacle. We are sick and tired of tiptoeing around your fragile little ego!” Lauren placed herself between us, her hands coming to rest gently against my waist. “All right, stop, both of you. He just left the hospital; don’t agitate him. Dad and Devon are just worried about you, Ian.” Once upon a time, that gentle tone would have disarmed me completely. Now, it made my skin crawl. Devon stared at Lauren’s hands on my waist, his expression curdling into sudden rage. He lunged and shoved me hard. I stumbled back, catching myself against the doorframe. Lauren only offered him an indulgent, fond smile. “Devon was just worried you’d get too close to me and trigger an episode. See how much your brother looks out for you? Don’t be mad at him.” I stared at her, hollowed out. I had listened to variations of that sentence for twenty-five years. In elementary school, when I brought home a report card with straight A’s, my father stood by and watched Devon tear the certificate to shreds. “We don’t want you getting overly excited,” Dad had said. “An ER visit costs money we don’t have.” In high school, when Lauren and I were both admitted to the advanced placement track, Devon had broken down in tears before her. “He’s so obsessed with you, Lauren! Being in the same classroom every day will kill him! I’ll trade him my spot in standard classes so he stays safe.” Lauren had actually gone to the administration, citing my medical liability, and had Devon transferred into the honors seat instead. In college, the first time Lauren whispered that she loved me, Devon had emptied a bucket of ice water over my head. “Ian, calm down! Your heart will stop!” Lauren had laughed softly, ruffling Devon’s hair, telling him what a blessing he was. Before the burn in my eyes could spill over, I spun around and walked out the door. I drove to the outpatient clinic to collect my full discharge paperwork. Crossing the bright linoleum of the lobby, a voice stopped me dead in my tracks. “Why did you come alone? Why didn’t you wait for me to take you?” It was Lauren. That same honeyed, protective cadence that had anchored me for years. My feet anchored to the floor. The skin along my collarbone betrayed me, prickling with a sudden, faint flush of phantom warmth. I balled my hands into fists in my pockets, swallowing down the tremor in my chest. “Whether I come alone or not has nothing to do with you anymore.” Silence hung in the air. I turned my head. Ten feet away, the door to the prenatal unit stood slightly ajar. Devon was standing there, holding an ultrasound printout, his eyes shining as he waved it in front of Lauren. “Because I wanted it to be a surprise!” Devon laughed. The words hadn’t been meant for me. The warmth on my collarbone evaporated in an instant, replaced by a wave of pure, icy clarity. A surge of blood roared in my ears. I took three furious strides toward the examination room. Before my fingers could touch the door handle, a hand grabbed a fistful of my hair from behind and jerked me backward with terrifying force. 2 My footing slipped, and the back of my skull cracked hard against the edge of the concrete steps. Through the ringing in my ears and the warm trickle of blood sliding into my hairline, I saw my father towering over me, his finger jabbing into my face. “Have you lost your mind?!” he hissed. “Lauren’s pregnant! It’s a miracle for this family, and you’re going to throw a tantrum in the middle of a hospital? Just because your body is defective doesn’t mean the rest of us have to live in your shadow!” Blood dripped down my forehead, blurring my vision in red. My mind drifted backward, disjointed and cold. In all the years we were together, Lauren had refused to be intimate with me. Whenever late-night desire flared between us, she would gently push my shoulders back, smiling that careful, soothing smile. “Don’t push it, Ian. You know excitement triggers your attacks. What if you collapse in bed? I have to look out for you. I’m not going anywhere. When your body is stable, I’m all yours.” And now, she was carrying a child. With my brother. The clinic door swung wide. Lauren hurried out, dropping to her knees beside me. “Ian! Oh my God, why are you bleeding like this?” Devon appeared behind her, his eyes welling with tears on cue. He subtly wedged himself between us. “Ian, please don’t be angry. I never wanted to hurt your relationship. I was just… I was terrified your condition would be genetic. I did it for the family…” Fighting through the dizzying nausea of blood loss, I shoved his reaching hands away. My father clamped down on my wrist like a vice. “I’m begging you, stop torturing your brother and Lauren! One broken child was enough curse for the Alden name! Lauren carrying Devon’s baby was done out of mercy for you! Or did you want to drag an innocent woman down and saddle us with another useless liability?” A passing nurse paused, casting a look of horrified pity in our direction. I looked up at Lauren. A foolish, dying part of me still waited for her to speak. For her to snap at my father. To tell them I wasn’t a liability, that I was the man she chose, the man she intended to spend her life beside. Instead, she offered me an exhausted, pained grimace. She let out a soft sigh, and then—barely perceptible—she nodded in agreement with my father. My chest went completely hollow. The quiet snap of something breaking inside me was deafening. I dragged myself up against the corridor wall, using the cold drywall for support, and walked out into the gray afternoon light. In the cab, I tapped out a message to the head of HR. “Has the paperwork been processed?” Her response was tentative, cautious. “Mr. Alden, are you entirely certain? You don’t want to give Ms. Dawson another chance to explain?” In the past, whenever we quarreled, I had threatened to remove her from the company, only to back down when her tears fell. The board had grown accustomed to viewing our corporate decisions as domestic drama. I let out a ragged, dry laugh and texted back: “This is permanent. Expedite the termination today. And while you’re at it, revoke my father and brother’s consulting stipends and company perks immediately.” I locked the screen. Seconds later, a call came through from the front desk of my residential building. “Hello, Mr. Alden? We have a courier service here with a flatbed truck loaded with white roses and lisianthus for an engagement installation. The billing was put under a Ms. Dawson for unit 102. We couldn’t reach her, and we need an authorized signature before they can bring them up.” White roses. Lisianthus. Flowers I had mentioned in passing three years ago, late one night while working on a pitch deck. A phantom tingle sparked beneath the collar of my shirt. But the memory of Lauren’s voice from that morning flooded back, sharp and freezing: “Once his heart finally gives out, the company—and I—belong to you.” The phantom itch withered away into absolute nothingness. “Send them back,” I told the concierge. “Turn every last petal away.” “Sir?” “And if Ms. Dawson asks,” I added, “tell her that whatever she was planning, she’s out of time.” 3 My phone buzzed thirty seconds later with an incoming call from Lauren. I didn’t answer; I simply blocked her number and took the elevator up to my penthouse. I pulled a suitcase from the top of the closet, but staring at my shelves, I realized there was almost nothing left that belonged entirely to me. Most of my tailored jackets and limited-edition sneakers had been claimed by Devon over the years. “You look too sharp in that,” he’d whine. “Looking good makes you proud, and pride makes you sick.” Even the framed childhood photographs on the console had been cropped with scissors, my smiling face snipped away until only the scenery remained. “You were smiling too wide,” my father had insisted. “Smiles invite tragedy.” In twenty-five years of existence, the only thing in this apartment I truly wanted to take with me was Peanut, my rescue terrier mix. The front door clicked open. Lauren walked in, freezing when she saw the open suitcase on the bed. “Ian, what happened at the clinic… you have to understand the reality of the situation,” she said, her voice dropping into that familiar, soothing register. “I know you wanted a family. But Devon’s baby can still call you Dad. If your attacks flare up while a baby is screaming, what happens to us? What happens to me?” She crossed the room, stepping into my personal space, and caught my bare forearm in both of her hands. “Look at this,” she urged, her voice breathless. “I’m holding you right now, and your skin is totally clear. Not a single bump. Don’t you see? What Devon and I did… the desensitization is actually working.” I looked down at her hands. Of course there were no hives. Hives required joy. Hives required hope. And I didn’t love her anymore. Without a word, I pulled my arm from her grip and continued folding a shirt. Lauren’s expression hardened, the warmth draining from her eyes. “You really think you can just discard me, Ian?” Her voice turned brittle. “Fine. Let’s see how that works out for you.” She pulled out her phone, opened the family group chat, and fired off two photos: her sonogram printout, and my half-packed luggage. “He refuses to understand,” she wrote. “He’s walking out on us, and I can’t stop him.” My father’s reply came within seconds. “Let the bastard rot! Nobody touch him!” The chat exploded instantly with messages from aunts and cousins. “I always knew he was ungrateful. Now his true colors show.” “Ian, be realistic. With your pathetic health, who else on earth would ever put up with you?” A cold numbness settled into my ribs. When my uncle was dying of liver failure, I had pulled every string in the medical industry to secure him a top surgeon. When my cousin couldn’t secure a mortgage, I handed her fifty thousand dollars without asking for a promissory note. I had thought that surely, somewhere beneath their greed, they held a shred of human decency. Not one person spoke in my defense. I typed a single sentence into the chat: “Since you are all so devoted to one another, I am revoking all family trust distributions and corporate shares in Alden Holdings.” I left the group. My phone lit up with my father’s name. I answered. “Ian, have you lost your goddamn mind?!” his voice barked through the speaker. “Lauren and Devon tore their lives apart trying to keep you breathing! You ungrateful piece of garbage—get the hell out of my family!” Desensitization. When I closed my very first venture round—after vomiting blood in an executive lounge from alcohol poisoning—I posted a photo of the signed term sheet to celebrate. My father and Devon dragged me into the concrete basement, locking the deadbolt from the outside and leaving me there in the dark for three days without food. “Getting cocky over a few dollars?” my father had yelled through the floorboards. “You want to die of excitement? We’re starving the arrogance out of you. It’s desensitization, you ungrateful wretch!” When my vision was fading from dehydration, it was Lauren who slipped the lock and held me, crying into my collar. “I’ll get you out of here,” she had wept. “Even if you stay sick forever, I’ll protect you.” Until Devon caught up to us, his eyes red and frantic. “Lauren, you’re going to kill him! The only way to cure a happiness allergy is total sensory deprivation! Desensitizing him is the only way he gets to stay alive with us!” From that day on, Lauren’s “protection” had transformed into a single mantra: “Just endure it a little longer, Ian. We’re doing this for you.” I gripped the phone tightly, my voice flat and dead. “The penthouse is under my name. The company belongs to me. If anyone is leaving, Dad, it’s you.” Lauren let out a sharp, amused laugh from across the room. “The company belongs to you?” She stepped forward, pulling a heavy blue folder from her briefcase. “While you were lying in that hospital bed, I systematically reassigned your core team.” She laid the documents on the dresser. “All that’s missing, Mr. Chairman, is your digital sign-off transferring executive oversight.” I went rigid. While I was gasping for air on a gurney—perhaps even from the very first moment she told me she loved me—the trap had already been set. The front door banged open. My father strode into the bedroom, holding Peanut suspended by the scruff of his neck. The little dog paddled his short legs frantically against the air, letting out high-pitched, terrified yelps. “Sign the transfer,” my father growled, his knuckles whitening around Peanut’s fur, “or I snap this little mutt’s spine right here.” 4 A violent tremor tore through my limbs. I lunged forward. “Put him down!” Lauren stepped smoothly into my path, catching my chest with an open palm. “Ian, just sign. Let’s not make this ugly.” I looked past her shoulder at Peanut’s wide, terrified dark eyes, his tiny body trembling in midair. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. “Fine. I’ll sign.” A sigh of deep, triumphant relief slipped past Lauren’s lips. She guided me toward the hallway, taking my arm with false affection. “Come on. We’ll finalize the authentication at headquarters.” Downstairs, I climbed into the passenger seat of her town car. Looking through the tinted glass, I watched my father carry Peanut down the steps, shrinking in the distance. The final trace of warmth in my life was slipping out of reach. When we stepped into the marble atrium of Alden Tower, the shift in the air was immediate. Whispers rustled among the receptionists and analysts like dry leaves. “Is that Mr. Alden? Did you see the news?” “Unbelievable. Running a publicly traded firm while having a severe psychiatric break… he’s going to tank the stock.” “Poor Ms. Dawson. She’s been covering for his abuse for years…” My fingers moved on autopilot, opening the news app. There it was, trending in the top three: my name, attached to a brutally edited montage. Footage of Lauren bringing me coffee, Lauren placing an umbrella over my head in a downpour, Lauren reaching to straighten my tie—immediately juxtaposed with clips of me flinching away, clutching my throat in agony, breaking out in violent hives. The headline flashed in bold, garish font: UNSTABLE LEADERSHIP: IS ALDEN HOLDINGS RUN BY A FRAGILE TYRANT? I stared at the screen, then looked up at Lauren. She immediately raised her hand, cupping my eyes from the glow of the phone in an exaggerated display of maternal tenderness. “Don’t look, Ian. Let me handle PR.” As if she hadn’t handed the video files to the press herself. I don’t remember walking into the boardroom. By the time my senses returned, the massive projection screen was already illuminated with my medical files. From my pediatric hospital visits to the cardiac arrest records from last month. Every psychiatric intake evaluation, every raw confession of worthlessness I had ever uttered, was displayed in crisp 4K resolution. My breath hitched. Last month, Lauren had told me she wanted us to live like normal people. She claimed she had retained an elite psychosomatic immunology specialist in Zurich who required my complete historical data. I had handed over my deepest vulnerabilities without a single hesitation. I had handed her the knife, and now she was twisting it in front of my board. A senior director cleared his throat from the end of the mahogany table. “Ian… no one is questioning your intellect. But given the public fallout, and frankly, your physical fragility… it’s simply untenable for you to retain executive authority.” Another board member chimed in quickly. “It’s for the firm’s survival, Ian. And honestly, for your own health. You need to step down.” Nods rippled down the table. Lauren’s lips curved into a subtle, victorious smile. She draped an arm around my shoulders, whispering against my temple. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll keep the company safe. Go home and rest. Once you’re healed, I’ll give it all back to you.” I wrenched myself out of her grasp. My phone buzzed against the table. A video message from my father. On the screen, Peanut was tied by a tight nylon cord to the leg of a dining chair, panting frantically, whining in pain. “Did you sign?” the accompanying text read. “The dog doesn’t look like he has much time.” My grip on the phone turned white. I had found Peanut shivering in an alley during my hardest year of bootstrapping the company. On nights when the stress was so suffocating I couldn’t breathe, Devon would break my headphones (“Listening to music makes you happy, Ian, you’ll trigger an attack”), and my father would confiscate my laptop (“Watching comedies will kill you; we’re saving your life”). Only Peanut would crawl into my lap, pressing his warm, scruffy muzzle against my cheek until the tears stopped falling. He was the only proof I had that the universe wasn’t entirely made of teeth. Tears pooled in my vision. Lauren hastily pulled a tissue from the console, dabbing at my eyes with delicate concern, before sliding the biometric terminal directly in front of me. “Be a good boy, Ian,” she cooed softly. “Place your thumb right here. It’ll all be over in a second.” I stared at the glowing blue scanner, slowly lowered my hand, and pressed my thumb flat against the glass. The main projector flickered. A stark, crimson dialogue box instantly replaced the medical files: [SYSTEM ERROR: AUTHORITY TRANSFER CANNOT PROCEED.] [REASON: DESIGNATED SUCCESSOR, LAUREN DAWSON, HAS BEEN PERMANENTLY TERMINATED FROM ALDEN HOLDINGS.]

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