One minute I’m gone, the next I wake up, and somehow I’m Cinderella’s stepmother. And the moment I meet my deadbeat husband again, he literally drops dead from happiness! 01 Wait, didn’t I die? Since when was the afterlife this noisy? “Cinderella’s nothing but bad luck! If it weren’t for her, Mom wouldn’t have gotten hurt!” “Mom, Mom, wake up!” Someone was shaking me, making my head spin. Then, a flood of unfamiliar memories rushed in, mixing with the arguing voices around me. I realized… I was alive again. And somehow, I’d landed smack-dab in the middle of the Grimm fairy tale, Cinderella. The constant racket was coming from the story’s heroine and her two “wicked” stepsisters. And I, unfortunately, was the wicked stepmother. But according to my new memories, things were a little different from the story. “I” was actually Cinderella’s father’s first love. My family went bankrupt thanks to bad management, leaving me broke. As soon as the money was gone, Cinderella’s dad dumped me and our twin daughters flat, turning around to marry Cinderella’s mother. Even though I resented him like hell, “I” worked my fingers to the bone, raising two daughters alone. Then, wouldn’t you know it, Cinderella’s mom got sick and died, and her dad came sniffing around “me” again. At the time, “I” was working shifts at a bakery, barely scraping by, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of responsibility. I basically told him to get lost. But Robert – yeah, that was his name – was persistent. He brought flowers, gave me rides home, and doted on my daughters. “I” saw the longing for a father in my girls’ eyes, saw Robert acting all sincere, and my resolve crumbled. I agreed to give it another shot. We got married quickly, wanting to give the girls a proper family. But after the wedding, Robert changed completely. He became useless, doing nothing all day but drinking with his buddies or running off to the city to “network.” And he just dumped little Cinderella on “me.” So “I” was out working every day, my two daughters handled the house, and Cinderella was too young for chores. But did that stop her from “helping”? Nope. Whenever her sisters were working, she’d volunteer, only to make a bigger mess, ruining whatever they were trying to do. “I” was often so exhausted I could barely speak. My husband was useless, I had to earn the money, and manage three kids at home. And guess who always ended up cleaning up Cinderella’s messes? Me. Even a saint would lose patience. “I” yelled at everyone – my daughters, Cinderella, even their deadbeat, drunken dad. My own girls never complained, but Cinderella? She always acted like I was the cruelest person on earth, making the neighbors whisper that “I” was abusing my stepdaughter. Let them talk, “I” was too tired to care. But then they had to start sticking their noses where they didn’t belong… 2: Why Are You Crying? The memories settled. I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was a rickety wooden house, furniture tossed around, eggs splattered on the walls, and bits of rotting vegetable scraps stuck everywhere. Influenced by the memories, my first thought looking at the broken eggshells was, What a waste. Seriously, those were perfectly good eggs. Could’ve sold them for decent money. While I was spacing out, my older daughter, Tara, grabbed my arm, tears of joy streaming down her face. “Mom, oh thank goodness, you’re awake!” My younger daughter, Amber, was fussing over me too. Only Cinderella stood off to the side, sniffling and sobbing like her whole world had ended. I took a closer look at Cinderella’s ragged gray dress. It was old, sure, but warm enough and looked spotlessly clean. Then I noticed that while she was covering her face and crying, not a single tear actually fell. Crocodile tears. The whole scene almost made me laugh. I walked over, smoothed down Cinderella’s neat, soft hair, and asked, pretending to be gentle, “Kylie, why are you crying?” Cinderella’s real name was Kylie. But no matter how many new dresses I bought her, she always wore that drab gray thing. Eventually, everyone, including my own daughters, started calling her Cinderella. Hearing my question, Kylie flinched, choked back a sob, but didn’t answer. Tara, getting impatient, jumped in. “Mom, don’t you remember? A bunch of villagers came by, yelling that you hit Kylie all the time, starved her, didn’t give her clothes… They said you weren’t fit to be a mother! They stormed in and trashed the place.” “It’s all her fault!” Amber added, her anger rising. She started rolling up her sleeves like she was ready to smack Kylie. “If it wasn’t for her, those people wouldn’t have come here causing trouble and pushing you down, Mom! You got hurt because of her!” Kylie just kept crying. I noticed her subtly shifting towards the door, and saw a few slivers of fabric disappear behind the doorframe. Onlookers. It clicked. I stopped Amber, putting on my kindest voice. “Now, now, how can you blame Kylie? Mom has to work all day. The food I make, the clothes I buy – they’re the same for all of you. People just don’t realize Kylie prefers this gray dress. It’s just a misunderstanding.” “The people around here are good-hearted,” I continued smoothly. “Once Mom explains things clearly, it’ll all be fine.” I gently patted the almost dust-free gray skirt Kylie was wearing and gave her a warm smile. “Am I right, Kylie?” 3: Dealing with the Little Snake Kylie was clearly shocked by my sudden change in attitude. She stammered, “O-of course, Mom. You’re very good to me.” The second the words were out, she frowned, looking annoyed, like she’d said the wrong thing. I noticed the figures lurking outside our broken door quickly melt away. Then Kylie said, “Mom, if you’re okay, I’ll go fetch the water now.” I kept smiling, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “No need. You’ve had quite a fright today. Let Tara get the water. You go rest in your room.” Tara snorted but didn’t argue, heading out efficiently to get the water. Kylie glanced at me nervously several times before hesitantly walking away. Watching her timid little retreating back, I sneered inwardly. Ha! Did she really think a PhD in psychology like me couldn’t handle a little manipulator like her? The next couple of days were much calmer. People in the neighborhood were still gossiping, but they seemed warier, keeping their distance. Because that useless drunk husband of mine hadn’t been home in two days, we were completely out of meat. I had to take a day off work and head into town with Tara to buy groceries. Once we got to town, the marketplace was chaotic. People were rushing in one direction. Tara was curious, so I went with her to see what was up. Turns out, the royal family had posted a new announcement. In three days, there would be a grand ball at the palace. All eligible unmarried young women from every family were required to attend. The Prince himself would choose his future bride that very night. Seeing the notice, Tara went ballistic with excitement, shaking my arm. “Mom, I need a new dress! I want to go to the ball!” Honestly, I was even more excited than Tara. Because I instantly remembered the original ending for these two girls in the story. Tara cut off her big toe, Amber sliced off her heel, and both ended up crippled. After Cinderella married the Prince, the three of us – my daughters and I – were kicked out of the country to face a miserable end.

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My stepdaughter, usually so sweet and sensible, suddenly did a complete 180. Fighting, skipping class, drinking… At first, I just brushed it off as a delayed teenage rebellion. But then, one night, I came home late and opened the door to find: In the middle of the living room, my daughter, dressed provocatively, was fooling around with a couple of rough-looking guys! 1. “Mike, can you make that pot roast tonight? I’ve been craving it like crazy.” Abby, my stepdaughter, dropped her backpack by the door and immediately started buttering me up. I grinned and nodded right away. She was a senior in high school, neck-deep in college applications; anything she wanted, within reason, she got. Seven years ago, the first time I met Abby’s mom, Laura, I was hooked by her unique charm. I pursued her relentlessly, and eventually, we managed to build a new family together. Since I never had kids of my own, I poured all that pent-up “fatherly love” onto Abby. I treated her like she was my own flesh and blood. Abby was a great kid – really sweet, cute, and always listened. After all this time, she’d definitely accepted me as her stepdad. She just called me “Mike” instead of “Dad,” you know, to keep that line clear. Later that night, I brought Abby a glass of warm milk, told her to focus on her homework, and then beat a hasty retreat to find some “comfort” from my wife, Laura. “Honey, it’s been driving me crazy these past few days… Can we try tonight?” I murmured, burying my face in her neck. Ever since Abby hit senior year, Laura and I had both been wound tighter than drums. Our sex life had pretty much evaporated. “Ugh, I’m not in the mood. Abby’s still awake. How awkward would that be if she heard?” Laura pushed me away, annoyance written all over her face, then rolled over, turning her back to me. Her attitude killed the mood instantly. Whatever hopeful stirring I’d managed vanished completely. A strange frustration started bubbling up inside me. I turned my back to her too, my mind racing. Laura used to be so passionate, practically jumping me whenever she got the chance. Why the cold shoulder lately? Could she… could she be seeing someone else? No, impossible! I cut that thought off immediately. It had to be the stress, I told myself. Abby’s college stuff was intense. Things would get back to normal later. Finally, June arrived. The day Abby finished her last exam, you could feel the tension lift in the house. Laura was so relieved, so excited, that we went at it like rabbits – seven times in one night. Okay, maybe my earlier suspicion was just paranoia. I let it go. But then Abby started acting… weird. Her grades were top-notch; she could get into almost any good university. It should have been great news, but after a few days of excitement, her mood plummeted. She started locking herself in her room all day. At the dinner table, “Here, have a piece of chicken,” Laura said, trying to put some on Abby’s plate. Abby slammed her hand on the table, knocking her bowl aside. “Leave it! I can get it myself!” she yelled. I quickly tried to smooth things over with Laura, grabbing Abby a clean bowl and chopsticks, quietly urging her to calm down and eat. “Mike,” Abby suddenly asked, looking straight at me. “What is it you even see in my mom?” The question stunned me. Before I could even process it, Abby stormed off, slamming her bedroom door behind her. All that was left was the sound of Laura muttering curses under her breath. Laura claimed Abby was mad because she didn’t want her applying to out-of-state colleges. Ah, okay. That made sense. No wonder Abby had seemed so down lately. I figured I’d find a chance to talk to her about it soon. In the end, though, Abby chose a university right here in the city. On orientation day, Laura had a work thing she couldn’t get out of, so I was the one who drove Abby to campus. “Your mom’s busy, she said not to be mad at her. She promised she’d make you something special when you come home after orientation week.” “I don’t care!” Looks like she still hadn’t forgiven Laura. I just shook my head, figuring it would blow over eventually. But just as I turned to leave, Abby grabbed my arm. “Mike,” she said, her voice low. “Have you ever thought that maybe… maybe Mom isn’t worth you loving her so much?” Her words baffled me, but I just patted her head gently and gave her a small smile. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling… it was like Abby was trying to tell me something… 2 Back home, I headed straight for the fridge to grab a bottle of water. As I was drinking, I suddenly heard noises coming from the master bedroom. It sounded like… like a woman, maybe in pleasure… My brow furrowed. I tiptoed towards the door, trying to figure out what was going on. I was about to throw the door open, catch whatever was happening red-handed, but just as I reached for the knob, the door swung open from the inside. It was Laura. Her breathing was heavy, her hair was a mess, and her face was slightly flushed. “Thought you were busy at the office?” Seeing her like that, a knot of panic tightened in my gut. I pushed past her into the room, scanning for any sign of someone else. Nothing. Not a single clue. “Oh! I just dropped a file somewhere in here. I’ve been tearing the room apart looking for it. Totally exhausting,” she said, panting slightly. After a few hesitant seconds, the tightness in my chest finally eased. “Okay, okay, let me help you look. I’ll drive you back to the office afterward.” But as I walked past her, I noticed her let out a quiet sigh of relief. Half a month flew by, and it was the day Abby was supposed to come home from orientation. Laura was busy in the kitchen first thing in the morning, telling me to go pick Abby up from campus. I got to her dorm building and gave her a call. No answer. It went straight to voicemail. Suddenly, a girl with bright red hair and revealing clothes walked past. From the back, she looked a bit like Abby. She was with two or three rough-looking guys with bleached blonde hair, trying way too hard to look tough. I rushed over, got a closer look, and sure enough, it was Abby! “What are you doing dressed like this? Weren’t you supposed to be at orientation?” I tried to keep my anger in check, but I could feel my forehead creasing into a knot. “What’s it to you? Who do you think you are?” she snapped back, then muttered under her breath, “You’re not my real dad, anyway.” Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I was speechless, a lump forming in my throat. In all these years, she’d never spoken to me like that. Calling me out like this, in front of everyone, this middle-aged guy who was just her stepdad. “Let’s go. You’re coming home with me!” Without another word, I grabbed her arm, pulled her into the car, and drove off. On the way home, I clenched my jaw and didn’t say anything. I really thought I’d finally broken through her defenses, earned her trust. But what she said back there… it was clear she still saw me as some interfering outsider. My heart ached. “There’s a bar at the next corner. Just drop me off there,” she said, casually chewing gum, lounging in her seat. The exaggerated makeup, the heavy perfume, the lazy tone… she was obviously trying to play the “bad girl.” I just didn’t understand why. “What are you doing? I told you to let me out!” “Are you crazy? I don’t want to go home!” “Let me out! Now! I don’t need you telling me what to do!” The more hysterical she got, the calmer I forced myself to be. I ignored her screaming and crying, drove straight home, and practically dragged her upstairs. 3 The second the door closed behind us, I finally lost it. “Abby, I put up with your crap the entire ride home! What the hell is wrong with you?!” The force of my voice seemed to stun her. She stood there, silent for a long moment. Then her lip started to tremble, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Fine! You’ve had enough of me, haven’t you? You think I’m just baggage that came with Mom! All these years, you’ve probably been wishing I’d just disappear, so you two could have your perfect little life, maybe even have your own kid!” Before I could even begin to deny it, Laura burst into the room and slapped Abby hard across the face. “What is your problem now?” “You hit me? What right do you have to hit me?! Yeah, you’re my real mom, but honestly, he’s been more of a parent to me than you ever were! How much have you actually cared about me, growing up?!” Listening to the two of them tear into each other, endlessly, I just slumped onto the sofa, rubbing my forehead, exhausted. The fight ended with Abby storming out of the house. That evening, Laura and I sat in silence at the dinner table, a huge spread of food untouched between us. Laura looked terrible, her usual energy completely gone, replaced by a dull sadness. “Mike,” she said quietly. “Do you think… do you think Abby hates me?” I paused, thinking it over. When Laura divorced her ex-husband, she fought tooth and nail for custody of Abby. Abby once told me she hadn’t initially wanted to live with her mom, but she never explained why. Laura definitely had a short fuse. Her work and her own life always seemed to come before family. That’s why I’d been the one holding things together at home all these years, for her sake. Compared to me, Abby’s relationship with Laura was… functional, maybe? Certainly not close. But hate? I didn’t think it went that far. I put a piece of chicken in Laura’s bowl, trying my best to comfort her. “Come on, you’re her mother. How could she hate you? It’s probably just teenage rebellion kicking in. Remember how sweet Abby always was? Starting college, everything’s new and exciting. As long as she doesn’t get into any real trouble, we should cut her some slack, right?” My reassurances seemed to work. Laura started to relax a bit, deciding not to dwell on it. But later, after I got Laura settled into bed, I went out onto the balcony for a smoke. My phone buzzed. It was a message from a coworker, Dave. “Hey Mike, check this out. Isn’t this your daughter?” Attached was a short video clip. I opened it. Under the flashing lights of some club, there was Abby, drinking with a few guys – the same type of guys I’d seen her with earlier. One of them even had his hand on her, casually sliding it around her waist, his eyes glued to her chest.

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So, I rented a boyfriend online. Yeah, you heard me. Mostly to get my parents off my back. Then the “boyfriend” smiles, and bam—two gold teeth flash at me. Me: ??? He blurts out, “Aw, crap. Guess the whole dragon thing is out of the bag now.” 1. To dodge the endless parade of disastrous blind dates my parents kept setting up, I went online and posted an ad for a monthly rental boyfriend. Shockingly fast, someone actually responded to my slightly desperate “Seeking Fake Significant Other” post. “Hey girl, think I’d work?” The message popped up from a user named “SirNickTheDragonSlayer.” Attached was a photo. Okay, wow. The guy was seriously good-looking. Clean-cut features, eyes that kinda sparkled, messy blond hair, crisp white shirt. Total package. Except… the background was one of those cheesy, solid blue photographer’s backdrops. Dude sent me a yearbook photo. Seriously. A slow smirk spread across my face. I couldn’t believe it. A guy so genuinely un-slick he uses his official headshot to chat someone up online? This level of pure, unadulterated dorkiness? You’re hired, buddy. I shot back a “You’re in” and set up a coffee shop meeting to see if the IRL version matched the photo. Five minutes after I sat down, the coffee shop door swung open, and in walked this guy who had to be at least six-foot-three. His blond hair practically glowed in the sunlight. He slid into the chair opposite me, his voice a cool, magnetic drawl. “Hey there. Nick. Your boyfriend-for-hire reporting for duty.” Okay, cute guy, check. But why was he talking like some kind of frat bro? Whatever, not important right now. I took a slow sip of my latte, using the moment to give him a proper once-over. Honestly? Way better than the picture. He had this effortless cool vibe. Damn, I’m good at picking ‘em. Suppressing a smug little grin, I got down to business. “Okay, so, like I said online, the goal here is strictly fake romance. We pretend to be a couple, mostly for a video call with my parents, maybe one in-person meeting, tops.” He just nodded. “Sounds good.” “Great.” I grabbed his arm. “Okay, let’s take a quick selfie for the parental units right now.” “One, two, three, smile!” He wasn’t smiling. Like, at all. “C’mon, Nick, work with me here.” Finally, after some serious coaxing, he cracked a grin, showing off a full set of teeth. Hold up. Were those… gold teeth on either side? Nick Sterling winced. “Uh oh. Guess the dragon thing is out of the bag now.” Me: “Excuse me?” 2. So, according to Nick Sterling, he was, and I quote, “a dragon from, like, the old country.” Apparently, since hatching, he’d basically just chilled in a cave guarding the family hoard passed down through generations. Then he hit marrying age and realized, besides mountains of treasure, he had literally nothing else going for him. Major dragon-life crisis. “Nicky, my boy,” some older dragon relative who’d spent time among humans advised him, “just sitting on that gold pile won’t cut it anymore. This is the modern world! You gotta get out there, make your own fortune. That’s what impresses the lady dragons these days.” See, dragons apparently have this thing for treasure – gold, silver, jewels, you name it. Their whole existence revolves around hoarding shiny stuff and fighting for pretty mates. Nick took the advice to heart. He lamented that his devastatingly handsome dragon face apparently held zero sway in the dragon dating pool and decided he had to prove himself by making bank in the human world. Just as Nick was narrowing his golden eyes, ready to conquer the human job market, his relative burst his bubble. “You’re not some medieval knight, kid. Pick fights now, and you get arrested,” the elder said, clearly exasperated. “So what’s a dude supposed to do?” Nick had picked up a ton of internet slang since arriving. He was already peppering his sentences with “dude” and was dangerously close to swearing like a sailor. “Start at the bottom,” the elder advised. And so, Nick Sterling became a waiter, a street magician, and even a janitor. He tearfully rented a tiny studio apartment for about a grand a month and began his miserable life as a wage slave. Don’t ask why Sir Nicky, owner of literal tons of gold and gems, was ‘tearful’ about a thousand-dollar rent payment. Just know that for dragons, treasure is strictly a one-way street: In, never out. 3. Nicky (my nickname for Nicholas Sterling now) is seriously cheap. I can vouch for this. Ever since Nicky confessed his work history woes, I decided to offer him a bit more security. Consider it my contribution to interspecies diplomacy. Human-dragon relations and all that. After all, I am descended from pioneers. Or something. I handed him a debit card. “Here, this has… uh… two hundred million Zimbabwean dollars on it. For walking-around money. Also, ditch that shoebox apartment and move in here.” “Zimbabwean dollars?” Nicky took the card, looking confused. He clearly hadn’t encountered hyperinflation currency before. My place is huge, basically a mansion. Plenty of spare rooms. Plus, having him here would make impromptu parent check-ins less awkward. “You’re, like, really nice,” Nicky said, looking genuinely touched. Wow. I just got friend-zoned by a dragon. With a ‘nice person’ card. New low? Or high? Nicky moved in with way more stuff than seemed possible for one guy. Within minutes, the door to his assigned guest room wouldn’t close because gold coins were literally spilling out into the hallway. “Nicky, what the hell are you doing?” I pushed the door open further and was instantly blinded by the glare from piles of gemstones covering every surface. “Just unpacking my stuff,” he grunted, his back to me, wrestling with a gold brick the size of a cinder block. “My old place was way too small for all this,” he explained. “Had to leave most of it back in the cave.” Turns out, hearing I had a whole ‘mansion’ prompted him to make an overnight flight back to his lair to retrieve his entire hoard. Apparently, dragons prefer to sleep directly on their treasure. Obscenely wealthy. Just… obscenely. My eyes locked onto a pile of glittering blue, green, and pink gems. A greedy little light flickered on in my brain. “Nicky.” “Yeah?” He turned around, catching the distinctly drool-like trickle forming at the corner of my mouth. He quickly stood up and shut the bedroom door firmly in my face, blocking my view. “Hey! Let me see!” I protested, rattling the doorknob. “Dragon family rules,” came his muffled voice from inside. “The hoard is only for the future Mrs. Dragon.” 4. Nicky flat-out refused to let me tour his dragon den. To distract me, he actually offered to take me shopping. Using my card, of course. “See anything you like? Buy whatever,” Nicky announced grandly as he dragged me into a high-end jewelry store. His own eyes, however, were glued to a display case full of gold chains. I wasn’t worried. This was perfect. He was totally leaning into the ‘rich, doting boyfriend’ persona I needed him to play. He’d ace the family gathering. What I didn’t expect was my parents showing up early. Unannounced. I was still dead asleep in my ridiculously oversized king bed (in my ridiculously huge bedroom) when the doorbell started ringing insistently. “Ugh, kill me now,” I groaned, dragging myself out of bed and stumbling downstairs. I opened the door to see my mom and dad grinning at me, both sporting their signature flashy gold dental work. Seriously, who does that anymore? “Mom? Dad? What are you guys doing here?” Total ambush. I was completely unprepared. Mom beamed, her smile glinting. “Veronica, honey, can’t your mother come visit her own daughter?” Dad chuckled beside her. “Yeah, Ronnie.” (My nickname. Long story.) “We just wanted to pop in and see you,” Mom said, already stepping inside. Her eyes scanned the place like a high-tech security system, finally landing on the shoe rack by the door. “Whose men’s shoes are these?” she asked, like she’d just discovered Atlantis. “What?” Dad chimed in. Suddenly, two pairs of parental laser beams were fixed on me. Sweat started prickling my forehead. “Mom, Dad, listen, I can totally bribe— I mean, explain!” Crap. Freudian slip. “Oh, honey, you don’t need to say anything,” Mom interrupted, suddenly looking thrilled. “You actually have a boyfriend!” “About time,” Dad added helpfully. Well, the cat was out of the bag. Or rather, the dragon was about to be dragged out of his hoard. I hauled Nicky out of his room. He looked completely disoriented, hair sticking up in a blond disaster zone, clearly still half-asleep. “Nicky, these are my parents. Say hi.” Nicky shuffled forward, rubbing his eyes. “Uh, nice to meet you, sir. Ma’am.” “So, Nicky,” my dad started, settling onto the couch, “where are you from?” “The mountains,” Nicky mumbled. “The what?” Dad leaned forward, cupping his ear. Oh, this idiot dragon. Okay, damage control time. Operation Rescue Dragon is a go. “Dad,” I jumped in smoothly, “Nicky’s from out of state. He’s the CEO of… uh… Drake Industries.” (Sounded plausible, right?) Dad visibly relaxed, nodding approvingly. Crisis averted. For now.

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Getting close to the wrong man brings nothing but misery. My darling daughter had fallen for some deadbeat. A broke loser, no less. Not only did this kid have zero class, but he actually had the gall to think he could waltz in and eventually take over my company. But Chloe was head over heels for him. So much so, she was willing to cut ties with me, her own mother, just to marry this bum. I laughed. “Fine. Get out of my sight, the both of you. Stay as far away from me as possible.” But later, much later, she was kneeling at my feet, sobbing, begging me to take her away. 1. My birthday gala was winding down when Chloe finally rushed in. She was wearing the designer dress I’d picked out for her, but her hair was a mess, her face flushed. “Mom, I’m so, so sorry. Something came up last minute at the hospital.” Standing beside her, the man practically shoved a small, slightly worn box from a generic mall jeweler into my hands. He had a loud voice. “Mrs. Vance, good evening. I only found out it was your birthday on the way over with Chloe. Didn’t have time to get anything fancy, hope you don’t mind.” The entire ballroom went silent. Everyone turned to stare, their faces a mixture of curiosity and judgment. Chloe. He called her Chloe? That familiar? I gave him a slow once-over. Buzz cut, shifty eyes, not particularly tall. He was wearing a suit that looked like it had been pulled crumpled from the back of a closet somewhere—definitely borrowed or rented, and badly. Everyone else here tonight was either old money, new money, or a titan of industry. He stuck out like a sore thumb. The way he held that cheap gift box, looking down his nose at me, it almost felt like he thought he was doing me a favor. I ignored him completely and turned to Chloe, forcing a smile. “Honey, and this is…?” Before the guy could open his mouth, Chloe jumped in, “This is my boyfriend, Derek Stone…” Her voice trailed off, getting quieter, and she dropped her gaze, unable to meet my eyes. My smile vanished. My face hardened. The murmurs started immediately among the guests. “What’s going on? Wasn’t Chloe engaged to Ethan Hayes? Since when is there a boyfriend?” “Is Chloe blind? Trading Ethan Hayes for… that piece of work?” “Poor Eleanor. What a way to ruin her birthday.” “Ethan is such a catch, any girl would kill to be with him. What is she thinking?” Derek, seeing I wasn’t acknowledging him, let his forced smile fade. He shifted his weight, rubbing his arm like holding the cheap box was tiring him out. I heard him mutter under his breath, “Seriously? What’s with the stuck-up rich bitch act?” He said it low, but I heard it clear as day. Chloe panicked instantly, tugging lightly at his sleeve, silently pleading with him to shut up. Just then, Ethan Hayes stepped onto the small stage, smoothly taking the microphone to rescue the situation. “Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate Eleanor’s birthday! That concludes our festivities for the evening!” He gave me a subtle nod from across the room, a silent message not to worry. Then he started directing the staff to clear the area. Relief washed over me. I turned on my heel and walked towards the exit, snapping coldly over my shoulder at Chloe and Derek, “Follow me.” 2 Back home, in the first-floor living room, Mrs. Davis had already prepared tea for us. I sank onto the sofa, composing myself, and looked expectantly at Chloe. “Alright. Talk. When did this start?” She exchanged a nervous glance with Derek. “Mom,” she began tentatively, “please don’t be angry when I tell you.” I just raised an eyebrow. That was enough. She confessed immediately: “High school.” High school? My Chloe had always been such a good girl, always did what she was told. In high school, she was completely focused on her studies. She wouldn’t have gotten involved in something like dating early unless someone else pushed her into it. Thinking about this, my anger started to simmer again, burning hotter. Derek wasn’t the type to read a room. He actually leaned forward, trying to get closer. “Mrs. Vance, I came here tonight because I wanted to be upfront with you. Chloe and I are in love, and we really hope you’ll give us your blessing.” His eyes darted around the room, taking everything in. Calculation was written all over his face. I took a deep breath. “Marriage? Well, isn’t that lovely. It’s rare for my Chloe to find someone she likes so much. I guess I need to vet him properly.” I turned my full attention to Derek. “Mr. Stone, where did you graduate from college? Where are you currently employed? What’s your salary? Do you own a car? A house? What are your savings? And what, exactly, are your plans for the future?” “And if you intend to marry my Chloe,” I added, my voice dripping ice, “what kind of financial commitment are you prepared to make? Let’s say, as a show of good faith. How about five million dollars?” Chloe froze, stunned by my barrage of questions. She just sat there, speechless. Derek looked even more uncomfortable. He wrung his hands in his lap, his ears turning bright red. He stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. I saw right through him. “Oh, dear,” I said with mock sympathy. “Don’t tell me you have… nothing?” Chloe immediately jumped to his defense. “Mom, it’s not like that! Derek started his own company, poured a lot of his own money into it! It hit a rough patch, but things are starting to turn around now. He has potential, Mom! He’s going to make it big, I know it!” Mentioning the company seemed to puff Derek up again. He lifted his chin, nodding arrogantly. “Yeah, I’m good at business. Never met a deal I couldn’t close. Once Chloe and I are married, I’ll work even harder, for our family’s company…” I gasped, covering my mouth in mock surprise. “What do you mean, our company? Mr. Stone, surely you aren’t planning on taking over the Vance enterprises?” He realized his slip-up, his face clouding with frustration. He clamped his mouth shut, refusing to say another word. I took a slow sip of my tea, then sighed lightly. “My Chloe is such an exceptional young woman. So many suitable men would love to marry her. If you really want to marry her… well, maybe I can make an exception, cut you a deal.” Hearing this, Derek perked up considerably. “Tell me, Mrs. Vance. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.” I nodded. “The requirements aren’t that high. Just show me you can provide that five million dollar commitment I mentioned. Then, I’ll agree to the marriage.” His face twisted instantly, ugly. He practically spat the words out between clenched teeth: “Five. Million. Dollars?” He turned on Chloe then. “Chloe, I’m so disappointed. Your mother is unbelievably materialistic!” With that, he stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Chloe was left standing there, stamping her foot in frustration. She looked at me reproachfully. “Mom! Why did you have to say that? You can’t put a price tag on love!” She turned to chase after him, but I stopped her sharply. “A man who isn’t willing to show any kind of financial commitment, not even for your future? And you still want to be with him? Starting today, you are staying home. You are not going anywhere. Your relationship with him is over. Understand?” Chloe flared up. “That kind of money? How is he supposed to come up with that right now? Rob a bank?” “Is five million really that much, Chloe?” I looked at her coldly. “For you, that amount used to be pocket change. When did your standards get so low?” She couldn’t argue with me. Defeated, she sulked back to her room. I paused for a moment, then pulled out my phone and sent a text to my private investigator. ‘Run a background check on a Derek Stone. I want everything you can find.’ 3 Derek Stone’s family background was, to put it mildly, a disaster. His father was a gambling addict. After one particularly bad loss, he flew into a rage and killed the person he owed money to. A convicted murderer, serving life. His mother remarried and cut off all contact with Derek completely. He was in the same grade as Chloe in high school. Before senior year even ended, he was expelled for bullying another student. He’d been drifting through low-end jobs ever since. He’d been in plenty of trouble. Just like his father: prone to anger, volatile. The PI told me the company Derek started was in game development. But he lacked the skills and, more importantly, the funding. He couldn’t attract real talent. The company was floundering, basically dead in the water with no future prospects. This was the man I was supposed to let Chloe be with? Absolutely not. I closed the file folder. “Mrs. Davis,” I called out, my voice firm. “Inform Miss Chloe that the wedding to Ethan Hayes will proceed as scheduled. Next week. Tell her to prepare herself.” The wedding was set. Before Mrs. Davis could even respond, we heard pounding footsteps on the stairs. Chloe rushed down, clutching the fabric of her dress. “Mom! I won’t marry Ethan! I don’t love him! The person I love is Derek!” I’d had counselors talking to her for days, trying to make her see reason. Clearly, it hadn’t worked. If anything, it seemed to have made her even more defiant. My face hardened instantly. “Ethan Hayes is respectful, intelligent, and capable. He has a brilliant future ahead of him. How can Derek even compare?” Ethan was the perfect match I had carefully chosen for her. The sole heir to the Hayes fortune. Marrying him meant Chloe would never have to worry about money. She could focus entirely on her own career in medicine. “You grew up with Ethan, Chloe. You know him better than anyone. There’s simply no comparison between him and Derek!” I tried reasoning with her, my voice softening slightly. “Honey, you need to marry someone who is already established, someone good. He won’t let you suffer. Derek is only with you because you’re Chloe Vance. He wants your money, your connections, your status to build himself up. Take away the Vance name, and there’s nothing left for your relationship.” Chloe shook her head vehemently, tears starting to well up. “No, that’s not it! All my life, I’ve felt like a puppet! No thoughts of my own, no freedom! Just following the path you laid out for me, step by step!” “Derek brought color into my life! When I’m with him, I can laugh out loud, I can be myself, completely unrestrained! Only then do I feel like a real person, alive, with feelings!” She looked straight at me, big tears rolling down her cheeks. “Mom, do you know how lonely it is? Living alone in that huge, empty condo you bought me? It’s so cold. Derek came over one night… he cooked dinner for me. For the first time, I felt like I had a real home, something warm.” I was stunned. “A home-cooked meal?” My voice was incredulous. “One meal made you feel warmth? Then what about everything I’ve done for you, all these years? What does that count for?” Chloe wasn’t my biological daughter. I adopted her from the foster care system when she was young. I’ve never been good at intimacy, at expressing affection. The only way I knew how was to provide, to give her everything I thought was best for her. She didn’t do great on her SATs, so I sent her to a top-tier university overseas. She walked straight into a prestigious residency program after graduation. I worried about her commute to the hospital, so I bought her a condo nearby and a car. I even pulled strings behind the scenes to smooth things over with her colleagues and superiors. My daughter had the best of everything growing up – clothes, education, friends from influential families. And now, she was throwing it all away for a single home-cooked meal from a loser? I was shaking with anger. “So, you feel like I’ve somehow failed you?” Chloe bit her lip, her voice suddenly soft again. “Mom, that’s not what I meant, please let me explain…” I cut her off with a bitter laugh. “No need to explain. If you insist on being with Derek Stone, then fine. I will freeze all your assets. And effective immediately, you no longer work at that hospital.” Chloe paled, then flushed with anger. “Mom! I earned that position on my own merit! You can’t do this!” I gave her a cold, dismissive glance. “Your merit?” “The only reason that top-ranked medical team even looked at you was because your last name is Vance.” “The reason you can walk into work and not worry about office politics, do whatever you please, is because you are my daughter. Everything you have, Chloe, comes from this family. It’s not something you could have ever achieved through hard work alone.” She crumpled, sinking onto the floor as if her legs couldn’t hold her anymore. She had no reply.

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It was day 99 after my divorce from Ethan Cole when he shamelessly begged to see me. I was home, just finishing dinner, when an unknown number called. “Hey, Ava? It’s Mike… Ethan’s friend? Listen, Ethan’s really drunk down here at The Riverfront Grill. He’s making a scene out front, refusing to leave. He keeps saying he needs to see you.” I hung up without a second thought. Less than three seconds later, he called back. “Look,” I said flatly, “Ethan and I are divorced. If he’s causing trouble, you should call the police.” “Ava, please, I’m begging you. Just come see him. Just for a second. Even if you just come yell at him… I’ve never seen him like this. And it’s freezing out here, man, he’s gonna get sick or worse. He was coughing like crazy earlier when we were inside…” I’ve always been a sucker for a sob story. Hearing Mike plead like that, something deep inside me twinged. “Ava, please? Can you just come take a look? We’re right by the entrance to The Riverfront.” I knew I shouldn’t, but I heard myself reply clearly, “I’ll be there in an hour.” After hanging up, my hand trembled uncontrollably. Ethan… we promised we’d never see each other again. Why are you crashing back into my world? When I got there, I spotted him immediately. He was definitely wasted, head down, slumped on the edge of a concrete planter box near the entrance. He looked nothing like the polished CEO I knew. As soon as Mike saw me, he ran over like I was the cavalry. “Ava, thank God you’re here! Ethan’s just sitting there, I can’t get him to budge.” He basically pushed me towards Ethan. Ethan slowly looked up, and then suddenly threw his arms around my waist, burying his face in my stomach. “Baby… baby, you came… I missed you so much…” It was peak dinner time. People were constantly coming and going, throwing curious glances our way. I struggled frantically, trying to push him off. He might not care about making a scene, but I certainly did. “Who’s your baby? You’ve got the wrong person.” But his grip was as strong as ever, locking onto my waist, refusing to let go, all while rambling like a lunatic. “Baby, don’t leave me… how can I live without you… baby…” I couldn’t break free. I looked around for Mike, desperate for help, but he’d vanished. Typical. Just then, I heard gasps from nearby. “Holy crap… isn’t that Ethan Cole? From Cole Enterprises?” “Yeah, it is! What’s he doing? Drunk and clinging to some woman? Is he married? Since when?” Hearing that, I immediately pulled my coat collar up over my face and hissed down at him, “If you don’t want to end up dead in a ditch, get in the car. Now.” Ethan looked up at me, his eyes wide and watery. “Will you leave me again?” He’d never looked at me like this before. I forced myself to stay calm. “No.” “Okay then.” He let me help him up, leaning heavily on me. But after two steps, he stopped, squinting with a sloppy grin. Shamelessly, he slurred, “I can’t walk.” I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to deck him right there on the sidewalk. “Then what do you want?” I asked through gritted teeth. “Need my baby close to walk.” I swear, I almost choked. God knows what he’d been drinking, but it clearly wasn’t just alcohol to make him act like this – a sight pathetic enough to make a dog shake its head. Seeing I wasn’t complying, Ethan started to yell again, “Ba— Mmph!” I quickly clamped my hand over his mouth, half-coaxing, half-dragging him into my car. “I must owe you big time from a past life,” I muttered, slamming his door shut. “Where do you live now?” The man in the back seat suddenly went quiet. “I don’t have a home.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Yeah, well,” I scoffed, layering on as much scorn as I could muster, “serves you right, doesn’t it?” He didn’t answer. We sat in silence for a moment. I watched the colorful city lights blur past the window, and a small part of me felt maybe I’d been too harsh. I glanced in the rearview mirror. Ethan was already asleep. This damn man! After a moment, I sighed. Might as well take him to the place we used to share. Assuming he hadn’t sold it yet. 2 I drove steadily down into the underground parking garage of our old building. Turning off the ignition, I turned around and gently shook Ethan’s shoulder. “Wake up! We’re here.” No response. Annoyed, I leaned closer, intending to tap his face, but seeing his peaceful expression… I hesitated. This face. I’d touched it thousands of times. Seeing it so close now just felt… wrong. Complicated. While I was lost in thought, Ethan suddenly pulled me into his arms. His breath was hot against my hair as he murmured huskily, “Ava…” For a split second, I was transported back, back to the days when things were good between us, his warm hand sliding onto my waist like a spark on dry tinder. But reality snapped back instantly. I shoved him away with all my strength, glaring. “I knew you weren’t that drunk! Stop pretending! Get up!” He started whining again, a smirk playing on his lips, refusing to get out of the seat like dead weight. Furious, I got out, opened the back door, and tried to physically drag him out. He grabbed my arm, pouting like a child. “Baby, let’s go home together.” I nodded curtly. “Fine. Just get out first.” He obeyed, getting out of the car but keeping a death grip on my hand, giving me no chance to escape. We stumbled towards the elevator, basically attached at the hip. Inside, besides us, were an elderly man and a young woman. They both eyed Ethan clinging to me – the old man shaking his head slightly, the girl stifling a giggle. A mischievous thought popped into my head. I sighed dramatically. “Honestly, honey, you know you have… issues. Why do you drink so much?” I lowered my voice conspiratorially. “Yes, I know you’re hurting, but the doctors said, people with your condition really shouldn’t drink. Look at you, clinging to anyone and calling them ‘baby’. Tsk, tsk. So embarrassing. Looks like I’m stuck with you for life, huh?” Hearing my tall tale, the other two passengers shot me sympathetic looks. As the old man got off on his floor, he patted my shoulder. “You hang in there, dearie. Make sure he gets the help he needs. Don’t give up!” …Guess there are still good people in the world. I felt a little sheepish, but hey, I never claimed to be one of them. Once the elevator reached our old floor, I pushed Ethan towards the apartment door. While he fumbled for his keys – assuming he still had them – I quickly wrenched my hand free and bolted for the stairwell. I ran down two flights, paused to listen – no footsteps pursuing me – then ducked back into the stairwell and took the elevator down to the parking garage. Me? Go back inside that apartment? I just couldn’t find the courage… 3 Ethan and I were married for three years. He was the CEO of Cole Enterprises, a global top 50 company. I was a director at a relatively well-known firm. From the moment we started dating, problems swirled around us – his parents’ disapproval, my friends’ warnings. We weathered it all, or rather, I weathered it all. Somehow, we still got married. No big wedding, no crowds of family and friends. Just the two of us, holding hands on a beach, looking at the blue sky and white clouds. No vows, no tears. It was exactly the kind of wedding I loved. Afterward, Ethan was good to me. For the “coziness” I craved, he bought a separate house, just for us. He called it “home.” Our home. If only time could have stopped there. But feelings, like food, have expiration dates. People talk about the seven-year itch, but sometimes three years is enough to show the cracks. He started getting annoyed when I had late meetings. He hated when I went out for drinks or dinners for networking. He even got jealous if he saw me talking business with a male client outside the office. At first, I found his possessiveness almost… quaint. But over time, it grated on me, becoming suffocating. He tried to use his status to pressure me. He even pulled strings to get my company to fire me. The day it happened, I came home to find the entire living room filled with roses. He’d prepared an elaborate dinner and presented me with a necklace worth a fortune. “Ava,” he’d said, smiling, “welcome home. From now on, I’ll take care of you.” That was the moment my heart turned to ice. He wanted me to be a stay-at-home wife. To give up everything and just be… his. A docile little kitten he could control. He believed he had the power to orchestrate everything – and honestly, he did. But I wasn’t a kitten. If I lost my job, I lost the last shred of standing I had beside him. I couldn’t build my future on love alone, especially not this kind of love. That night, I smashed a wine glass. I started packing a bag, ready to walk out, but Ethan stopped me. And that’s when his true nature, the one lurking beneath the surface, fully emerged. He snatched the suitcase from my hand, threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, carried me into the bedroom, and tossed me onto the bed. Then he ripped off his tie and used it to bind my hands securely. “You’re not leaving this house,” he said, his voice cold. I started shaking uncontrollably. He’d never, ever been rough with me like that before. I cried for a long time that night. After that, the smiles disappeared from my life. I screamed, I raged, I threw tantrums day and night, trying desperately to wear down his patience, to make him let me go. He was unbelievably stubborn. Most of the time, he just endured my outbursts in silence. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he’d kiss me forcefully, silencing me, reminding me who was in control. Eventually, the tears dried up. All I wanted was escape. When he was out, I secretly hid a small paring knife from the kitchen. The next time he came home, I held it to my own wrist. “If you don’t want to see me bleed,” I said, my voice trembling but steady, “let me go.” For the first time, I saw real pain in his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t expected me to go that far. Or maybe, just maybe, he was tired of the fighting too. After a long, heavy silence, his eyes red, he finally choked out, “Fine.” And just like that, we got divorced. The day we got the papers finalized, I told him, “Ethan, let’s never see each other again.” He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, watching me. I walked away, and he remained standing in the same spot. He hadn’t forgotten. Neither had I. Seeing him tonight brought it all flooding back, drowning us both. But the chasm between us was too deep now. No way forward, no turning back.

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It was our three-year anniversary, and I accidentally found out my boyfriend was confessing his feelings to another girl. When I confronted him, he shielded her behind him. “Chloe, we’re just not right for each other. I can’t lie to myself anymore.” 1 Three-year anniversary. I had the gift I’d picked out so carefully tucked in my bag, wondering what kind of surprise Kevin had planned for me. I’d called him three times, no answer. Thinking about how secretive he’d been lately, I figured he must be busy setting something up for our anniversary. I was buzzing with excitement, even mentally preparing myself not to look too overwhelmed when I saw whatever surprise he had planned. Until a splash of cold water hit my face. I froze, confused. “Chloe Miller, I thought you were a decent girl. Couldn’t you pick anything better than being a homewrecker?” The water blurred my vision, but I was pretty sure I didn’t know these girls, and I had no clue what they were talking about. “You… you guys…” Damn it, I always stumble over my words when I get nervous. Before I could even ask what was going on, they cut me off. “Kevin’s been chasing Jessica for two months now. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from him.” I just stood there, stunned. Kevin and I had been together for three years, and this was the first I’d ever heard his name linked with anyone else’s. Just yesterday, Kevin was talking about our future together. I couldn’t believe it. “Shameless homewrecker!” They sneered, not giving me a chance to speak. A crowd started to gather, drawn by the commotion. Most of them were pointing fingers at me. My face burned with anger and embarrassment, but my tongue felt tied. “I… I’m not!” My words were drowned out by their insults and the crowd’s murmurs. Nobody listened. They started using even nastier words. I was desperate. Wiping the dirty water from my face, I looked up and saw a familiar figure. Forgetting my humiliation for a second, I rushed forward, seeking the comfort of a hug I thought would be warm and safe. “Kevin, help me…” Two seconds later, before I even finished my sentence, I froze again. My fingers instinctively squeezed the waist of the guy I was hugging. Surprisingly, there wasn’t the soft layer Kevin had been complaining about gaining lately. Instead, it was solid muscle. My eyes traveled upwards, and then I really felt like an idiot. I wasn’t hugging Kevin. It was some other guy wearing similar clothes. And the worst part? This guy was the last person you wanted to mess with. Asher. He was the notorious tough guy on campus, the one everyone steered clear of. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for whatever he was going to do. “A whole group of you ganging up on one girl?” His voice was cool, almost cold, and the faces of the girls instantly paled. I thought he’d push me away, but he was talking to them. “Aren’t you gonna scram?” He didn’t waste words. Just like that, the girls backed off. Seeing me apparently under his protection, they gritted their teeth. “Chloe Miller, you better hope we don’t catch you alone!” A shiver went down my spine. Before I could even see their expressions clearly, a tall figure blocked my view. Asher just glanced up, barely a flicker in his eyes, and within seconds, the onlookers scattered. I stood there, soaked and freezing, afraid to even look at Asher. Even though he’d just saved me, I was still terrified of him. “Chloe Miller, how could you stoop to this?” Asher’s voice was chilling, laced with an accusatory tone. I was too stunned to process it. One thing was certain: I didn’t really know him, and I had no idea what he meant by “stooping to this.” I didn’t know how to answer. Right now, all I wanted was to find Kevin. The thought barely formed in my head before I bolted, running away under Asher’s intense stare. My earlier excitement was completely gone. My hands trembled as I pulled out my phone. Finding a quiet corner, it took me a few tries to dial Kevin’s number. Still no answer. That was it. I couldn’t hold it together anymore. Tears welled up, and I bit my lip hard to keep from crying out loud. I felt pathetic enough already; I didn’t need to make it worse. But fate seemed determined to mess with me. I didn’t get a call back from Kevin, but I did see him… 2: How Dare You Show Your Face? Kevin stood in the middle of a crowd, a sweet-looking girl beside him. And the girls who had just harassed me were clustered around them. “Jessica, say yes!” “Say yes!” “You guys are so perfect!” From my corner spot, I watched the guy I’d loved for three years holding a bouquet of flowers, but the girl he was facing wasn’t me. Even from a distance, I could hear Kevin’s deliberate words as he confessed his feelings. The irony was sickening – they were the exact same words he’d used on me three years ago. Dazed, I found myself drifting closer without realizing it. Someone else spoke before I could. “How dare you show your face?” “Chloe, don’t you dare try to ruin this.” I didn’t fight back, didn’t say anything to their taunts. My eyes were fixed on the ring box in Kevin’s hand. I’d seen it a month ago. I’d even daydreamed about how it would look on my finger. Now, the thought was just laughable. “Kevin, do you remember what today is?” My voice was suddenly calm. Seeing the panic flash across Kevin’s face, I almost wanted to laugh. But his first instinct wasn’t to explain. It was to pull the other girl protectively behind him. “Chloe, we’re just not right for each other.” Just yesterday, he’d whispered sweet nothings to me, and now we weren’t right for each other. “I’ve found someone who’s right for me now, so I can’t lie to myself anymore.” Listening to Kevin’s words, I actually laughed out loud, but tears started streaming down my face anyway. “Did you hear that? Get lost!” “Chloe, aren’t you embarrassed?” Seeing Kevin reject me, the girls gloated, pushing Kevin and Jessica closer together. The sight was like a punch to the gut. I wanted to leave, but my feet felt glued to the ground. Watching them look so happy, I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Suddenly, my view was blocked. Someone stepped in front of me. “This is the guy you picked?” A vaguely familiar voice made me stiffen. “Chloe, your taste really sucks.” Asher’s voice was cool, but surprisingly, it didn’t sound mocking. “Three years together, and you still can’t tell a decent guy from a total loser?” Kevin’s face fell instantly. The crowd around him quieted down. But nobody dared argue, because the person talking was Asher. Seeing me fighting back tears, Asher deliberately spoke up, “Looks like your taste in men needs rescuing. Maybe I should help with that.” It sounded like a joke, but he said it with dead seriousness. I pulled his arm down from blocking my eyes. I don’t know where I found the courage, but seeing Kevin busy trying to explain things to Jessica—even though my heart felt like it was shattering—I bit my lip hard. “Kevin, we dated for three years. You know damn well who the ‘other woman’ is here.” I gripped Asher’s arm, my voice steady now. “Since you think we’re not right for each other, fine, we’re breaking up. But remember this: I’m the one dumping you today.” With that, I turned and walked away, refusing to look back at Kevin. I walked away looking strong, but inside I was crying my heart out. Over a thousand days. I’d poured everything into that relationship. Only when I was sure they couldn’t see me anymore did I collapse onto the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. The anniversary I’d dreamed about countless times had turned into this nightmare. I clutched at my clothes, tears blurring everything. I thought no one would care, but just as I was crying too hard to stop, a handkerchief appeared in front of me. 3: Is This Guy Even Worth Crying Over? “Is this guy even worth crying over?” The tall guy was crouching beside me now. “Running into a jerk isn’t your fault.” His movements seemed a bit stiff, but Asher patiently dabbed at my tears. Faced with his question, I didn’t know what to say. Even I couldn’t tell if my tears were for Kevin or for the three years of my life I’d wasted. I cried until I felt completely broken. People walking by stared, but Asher didn’t seem to care. He just kept persistently wiping away my tears until I forgot to keep crying. The face-to-face gesture felt a little awkward. I quickly stood up. As I moved, I caught a glimpse of something on his handkerchief, maybe some letters? But I was too busy trying to put some distance between us to see clearly. “Do I know you?” So much had happened today, I couldn’t recall any specific interaction I’d ever had with Asher. Seeing that I’d stopped crying, he stood up quickly too, a mysterious smile playing on his lips. “Want to find out? Meet me here tomorrow, six p.m.” He left a small piece of paper with an address and walked away coolly. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. The next day, I sat in the library with puffy, red eyes, clutching the note Asher had given me. Lookout Point, edge of town. The wind up there was fierce, strong enough to make your eyes water. Sitting in the swaying cable car on the way up, my legs felt like jelly. When I finally reached the top, I felt like a complete idiot. The scenic overlook was deserted. Not a soul in sight. Asher definitely had something up his sleeve. Just because he showed a moment of unexpected kindness, I’d forgotten his reputation as a troublemaker. Standing on the high peak, the pain from yesterday and the frustration of today washed over me, leaving me feeling empty. All Kevin’s sweet talk seemed ridiculous now. The necklace he gave me, which I’d been clutching tightly, I ripped off and threw onto the ground, grinding it into the dirt with my heel. “Chloe Miller, you didn’t disappoint me after all.” A cool voice cut through the wind, startling me. Asher had appeared behind me somehow, standing against the wind, effectively blocking the gusts that had been hitting me. His tall frame created an unexpected illusion of being a shield, something solid to lean on. Surprise made me forget my tears. “Who are you?” He’d already seen me at my worst, so I didn’t care how pathetic I looked right now. He didn’t answer my question. He just waved for me to follow him and turned away. As if he knew I’d follow. “Since you came all this way, might as well make it count.” And yeah, I was weak. I didn’t want the trip to be for nothing, especially since I still didn’t know who he really was. Standing at the edge of the bungee jumping platform, my legs turned to rubber. I absolutely refused to take another step forward. I couldn’t believe Asher would pull something like this. “Dude, what did I ever do to you?” Tears welled up in my eyes, purely from terror this time. All my sadness vanished, replaced by the overwhelming urge to run, fueled by my fear of heights. But Asher wasn’t about to let me off the hook. He hooked two fingers into the collar of my shirt. Giving me zero chance to escape. “Still got some fight in you. Good, you know how to resist.” Asher smirked, and damn it, good-looking guys really know how to mess with your head. I clung to his shirt for dear life, my mind blank with fear. But he wouldn’t let up. “Look over there. See that?” I knew he was probably tricking me, but Asher’s low voice held a strange kind of pull. When I finally looked up, I just stared, dumbfounded… 4: That Two-Timing Bastard! Before I could even register the view, I felt that stomach-dropping lurch of falling. We were off the platform. But I wasn’t alone. Asher’s arms were wrapped around me. Even in that terrifying freefall, he was somehow smiling. Instantly, all my fear and sadness evaporated. Back on solid ground, I collapsed, too shaken to stand. I refused to let him near me. Maybe it was the shock, maybe something else, but tears streamed down my face again. All the emotions I’d bottled up finally burst out. It wasn’t really about missing Kevin; it was the pain of realizing I’d trusted the wrong person. Only I knew how much I’d put into getting us to this point. Before I could even glimpse the future I’d imagined, reality had dealt me a devastating blow. The wind felt cold, and that sense of helplessness made me cry until my limbs felt numb. Asher stood nearby the whole time, not moving, not offering platitudes. I could just feel his gaze fixed on me, never leaving. Only when I’d cried myself dry did I hear him softly say my name. Turning around, the harsh afternoon sun was gone. Only a final sliver of light pierced the growing dusk. Even though it was just a tiny gap, the sunset hadn’t given up. I stared at it, and Asher’s voice, sounding almost gentle, reached my ears, “See? The world keeps turning. It’s not the end of everything.” I don’t remember much after that, just that he somehow produced drinks. Asher wasn’t a big talker, but him silently sharing a drink with me, just being there, actually did feel comforting. But I was so focused on drowning my sorrows that I completely forgot to ask him again who he really was. The third time I mentally kicked myself for my bad memory, a bubble tea appeared on my library table. “Chloe…” I looked up. Kevin stood there, looking guilty. “It was my fault. I got… confused. I didn’t really mean to break up with you…” He launched into a rambling explanation without even pausing. Completely forgetting that I hate tea, even bubble tea. But the earnest look on his face made my tightly clenched fists relax just a little. Seeing my expression soften, he slid a stack of papers across the table towards me. I stared for a second, then couldn’t help but laugh. “Kevin, have you no shame?” I almost forgot. He’d used ‘looking for a job’ as an excuse to get me to basically do his entire senior thesis project for him. With graduation approaching, that was probably why he’d kept stringing me along instead of breaking up sooner. Watching him carefully put on his ‘devoted’ act, I found it utterly ridiculous. I leaned back, pulling away from him, the way I looked at him totally different now. “Jessica’s family is loaded and well-connected, right? Can’t they even handle your thesis?” I might be a top student, but I couldn’t compete with Jessica’s family’s influence. Have to admit, Kevin picked a good ladder to climb. Hearing me lay it out so bluntly, his face turned white with anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He dropped the act, getting furious, showing no consideration for me. Seeing how unreasonable he was being, I didn’t want to argue anymore. “We broke up. Stay away from me from now on.” Our quiet argument in the library quickly started attracting attention. Wanting to avoid a scene, I decided to leave. As I walked away, I noticed people weren’t pointing at me, but at Kevin. “Isn’t that the guy?” “Yeah, the two-timing bastard!” Someone held up a phone, showing the picture from the day of his public confession – the three of us in that confrontation. “Seriously shameless, still harassing his ex-girlfriend.” The murmurs grew louder. Kevin noticed something was wrong, pulled out his phone, and less than a minute later, he exploded. “Chloe Miller, did you do this?” Too bad for him, the library was full of people. He couldn’t do anything to me. I felt a surge of satisfaction, but also like it wasn’t quite enough. “So what if I did? Kevin, if you don’t want people to know, don’t do it in the first place.” The second the words left my mouth, Kevin lunged towards me. But someone secretly tripped him, sending him sprawling face-first onto the floor. Combined with the stares and whispers from everyone around, he couldn’t take it. He scrambled up and ran off. I felt vindicated. I glanced at the student who had just sneakily intervened. “Thanks.” The guy grinned innocently, then said something that completely stunned me, “No problem, Sis!”

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My mom passed away from a sudden cancer diagnosis in the spring semester of my senior year. Before I could even really process how I was going to manage on my own, Mom told me something shocking on her deathbed: I had a father, and he was supposedly one of the richest men in the country. Following the scraps of information Mom gave me, I tracked him down. Turns out, I didn’t just have a billionaire dad; I had an A-list pop star older brother, a genius scientist second brother, the most popular guy in school for a third brother, and the resident tough guy as my fourth… 01 “After I’m gone, honey, you need to go find your father.” Mom’s last words echoed in my head as I nervously gripped the handle of my worn suitcase, taking in the overwhelming sights and sounds of the unfamiliar city. My mom died three days ago from cancer. She’d brought me to this city all by herself years ago, and now, with her gone, I had no other family here. My only option was to find the father and brothers I’d never met. Problem was, Mom hadn’t left me any contact info for my brothers! Desperate, I looked up the company associated with my oldest brother, the famous one, online. The second I dragged my luggage through the sleek glass doors of the entertainment company building, heads turned. All eyes were on me, dripping with curiosity or suspicion. The receptionist gave me a kind, pitying smile. “Are you lost, sweetie?” Swallowing hard, I mumbled, “No, I’m in the right place… Can you give me his contact information?” I pointed at a massive, impossibly cool poster of my brother plastered on the wall. The look the receptionist gave me screamed, “Are you serious?” “Please…” I started to plead again, bracing myself for rejection, when a sharp, condescending voice cut through the lobby from behind me. “Who does this little nobody think she is, asking for Alex Vance’s contact info right off the bat?” I turned around to face a woman dripping in flashy clothes, staring daggers at me with pure disdain. I glanced her over, thinking, Who crawled out from under a rock to butt in? “Please, I really need to talk to him. It’s urgent…” The woman actually shoved me. “Didn’t you hear me, you little hick? Get out of our company building, now!” The push ignited a spark of anger. Why was she resorting to insults? “Are you crazy?” She scoffed, flicking her overly styled hair. “I happen to play a fan-favorite character in that hit streaming show. Calling you a hick is probably a compliment.” Her words clicked. That show? Wasn’t her “fan-favorite” character like, the sixth female lead in some low-budget web series? My face must have shown my disdain. Her expression turned instantly vicious. “I suggest you know your place, or I’ll have security drag you out of here!” If I hadn’t already confirmed online that my pop star brother was a major shareholder in this company, her ‘queen of the castle’ act might have actually intimidated me. I decided to ignore this Z-list wannabe and tried talking to the receptionist again. The woman practically exploded. “What kind of attitude is that? Do you even know who my father is?” I rolled my eyes. “Why the hell should I care who your dad is? I’m not your mom.” She looked ready to spontaneously combust. She whipped out her phone and furiously dialed someone. The receptionist still wouldn’t give me the info, so I just stood there, trying to figure out my next move. It didn’t take long for the woman’s backup to arrive. I looked up to see a tall, unfamiliar man approaching. The woman instantly latched onto his arm like a snake. “Rick, darling! This girl was being so rude to me!” “I’ll take care of her right now,” Rick said, patting her hand soothingly. She shot me a triumphant smirk. But then, Rick got a clear look at my face. His eyes widened, and he rushed over, grabbing my arm gently. “Miss Harrison! What are you doing here?” 02 The lobby fell silent. I asked, confused, “Do I know you?” The flashy woman sounded like she was in a daze. “Rick… you know this… this hick?” Rick looked practically giddy. “Oh, you probably don’t recognize me! Let me introduce myself – I’m Rick Johnson, Alex Vance’s manager. You must be here to see your brother, right?” His manager? The woman shrieked like her tail had been stepped on. “Rick, what are you saying? Alex Vance is this little country bumpkin’s brother?” Rick finally turned his attention back to her, his expression suddenly icy. “Watch your mouth. Who are you calling a country bumpkin?” Her face flushed bright red, and she clammed up. Rick delivered the final blow. “You don’t need to stick around me anymore. Pack your things, go to HR, and collect your final paycheck. This company has no place for someone who insults the boss’s sister.” Rick drove me to a stunning, sprawling mansion. These mansions in the city definitely dwarfed the houses back in my small town. A housekeeper led me inside. As soon as I stepped into the grand foyer, a ridiculously good-looking guy jumped up from the couch. He rushed over, his eyes bright. “Are you Hannah?” Hannah Harrison. That’s my name. I nodded, and he pulled me into a hug. “Hannah, I’m so sorry. Dad and I… we couldn’t find you and Mom all these years. We’re so sorry.” Thinking about Mom’s passing brought tears to my eyes again. He noticed my red eyes and gently wiped a tear from my cheek, his voice soft. “Don’t cry. Your big brother’s here now. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” He comforted me for a little longer, then led me upstairs to show me my bedroom. It was like something out of a fairy tale – a lavish princess suite, even more beautiful than the ones you see in movies about rich heiresses. Alex explained, “Dad’s still away on a business trip. And I haven’t told your other brothers—Ethan, Mason, and Noah—yet. Didn’t want to overwhelm you. You’ll meet them all in a few days.” 03 Alex handled my school transfer, enrolling me in a prestigious private high school nearby. Climbing out of the Rolls-Royce felt surreal. Alex tried to reassure me, “I heard you always had the top grades back home. That’s my sister! I bet you’ll ace it here too, even in a new environment.” Honestly, I wasn’t too nervous. Academics were the one thing I’d never felt insecure about. I waved goodbye to Alex and headed into the school. The campus was impressive, all manicured lawns and stately brick buildings. It took me a while to find my homeroom. Just as I was about to walk in, a sharp, familiar voice sneered, “Hannah Harrison? What are you doing here?” I turned, frowning as I recognized the speaker. It was Leo Maxwell, a guy who used to relentlessly hit on me back home. After I turned him down flat, he turned nasty, spreading rumors and making my life miserable. Eventually, he couldn’t stand failing to get under my skin and transferred schools. I never imagined he’d end up here. He looked me up and down, his expression dripping with superiority. “Last I checked, your family was broke. How did you manage to sneak into an elite school like this?” Suddenly, a basketball whizzed past his ear, slamming against the wall behind him. Leo jumped back, startled. I looked over my shoulder and saw a guy leaning against the doorframe. He wore his uniform with a rebellious slouch, but even that couldn’t hide how strikingly handsome he was. The newcomer fixed Leo with a cold stare. “If you don’t need your mouth, maybe donate it.” Leo puffed up his chest. “Noah Harrison! This is none of your business!” Noah Harrison? My brain stuttered. Wasn’t that the name of my fourth brother, the one I hadn’t met yet? “From now on, anything involving her is my business!” Noah pushed off the wall and stepped right up to Leo. “What, you wanna argue the point with my fist?” Fear flickered across Leo’s face. He shot me one last hateful glare and scrambled away. I tentatively called out, “Noah… Fourth brother?” His tough expression instantly melted into a huge grin, bright as a sunflower. “Yeah! Alex just called me,” he said, ruffling my hair. “Turns out we’re in the same homeroom. C’mon, I’ll take you in.” Judging by Leo’s terrified reaction, my guess that Noah was the school’s resident tough guy was spot on. Walking into the classroom confirmed it. “There’s only one guy in this whole school who might be able to take me in a fight,” Noah bragged, flexing playfully. “So don’t you worry about causing trouble. Your big bro’s got your back.” Curiosity piqued, I asked, “Who’s the one guy?” Noah’s expression turned slightly disgruntled. “Your third brother, Mason. He’s in a different class.” Having brothers seemed pretty great! I just hadn’t anticipated that my newly found tough-guy brother would bring his own brand of trouble my way. 04 After school, I got cornered by a group of girls outside the restroom. Thinking about Noah’s ridiculously good looks, I sighed. Handsome guys really are trouble. The girls glared at me. “Hey. We hear you’re Noah Harrison’s new deskmate?” It was forced on me. The moment I walked into class, Noah grabbed an empty desk, plunked it down next to his, and told me to sit there. He’d always refused to have a deskmate before, so him insisting I sit next to him basically put a giant spotlight on me. Keeping a low profile was officially impossible. Great, just what I needed, I thought, asking aloud, “Yeah? So what?” “So Leo was right. You do have that look about you,” one of the girls sneered. The word she was probably thinking, but didn’t say, hung in the air. Leo? That jerk. He was already stirring up trouble for me again. Before I could mentally curse Leo out, the girls started closing in. “Who do you think you are, some nobody from the sticks, trying to latch onto Noah Harrison?” My first thought was, Seriously? I get called a hick again? Then I asked, “What do you want?” The lead girl smirked. “Nothing much. Just gonna teach you a lesson. Help you remember not to touch things that aren’t yours.” Just as they looked ready to jump me, a cold male voice cut through the air. “Stop it!” I turned. It was Noah… but different. His uniform was perfectly neat, none of the usual rebellious slouch. I realized – this must be the “model student” twin, my third brother, Mason Harrison. As the thought hit me, the girls around me gasped nervously. “Mason! What are you doing here?” Yep, definitely my third brother. Alex had mentioned Mason and Noah were twins. Mason’s expression was ice cold. “If I weren’t here, how would I see you bullying someone?” The girls visibly flinched, but the leader stubbornly glared at me. “We’re not bullying her! We’re just teaching this little gold-digger a lesson!” The next second, Mason kicked a nearby trash can. It slammed against the wall next to the girls with a deafening clang, making them all jump and turn pale. Mason stalked towards the leader. “I don’t hit girls… but if you say one more disrespectful word about her, don’t blame me for making an exception.” They immediately backed down. Total cowards. “Now. Apologize to her. Right now.” Under Mason’s intense stare, the girls mumbled apologies and then practically tripped over themselves running away. I glanced at the dented trash can on the floor. Noah wasn’t kidding about Mason. Once the girls were gone, Mason’s icy demeanor vanished. He came over, grinning, and gently pinched my cheek. “You okay? Scared?” “No, no,” I quickly reassured him, playing it sweet. “How could I be scared of my own brother?” Mason clearly liked that answer. “See? That idiot Noah is useless. Tells you he’ll walk you home, and you still end up in trouble.” Noah had offered to walk me home, but I told him I needed to use the restroom first. Didn’t expect an ambush. “Don’t worry,” Mason said, his smile turning a little predatory. “As Student Body President, I have ways of dealing with things. Let’s just say if those girls manage to keep a clean disciplinary record for the next three months, it’ll be because I wasn’t doing my job.”

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Kids going missing all over the city had me spooked. So, I put up a post on my socials – big bucks for a bodyguard. Didn’t expect my ex to answer the call. Just as I was about to slam the door in his face, a bunch of figures in hazmat suits surrounded us. “Close contacts. Take ’em both.” The guy talking? My forensic pathologist husband, Cole, who was supposed to be out of town on a work trip. 1 Married to Cole for half a month, and I’d seen him exactly twice. Once at the wedding, once last week when he came back to grab stuff for that “work trip.” Honestly, the main perk of having this husband was the massive allowance he gave me. I wasn’t complaining about the freedom. But lately, these missing kid cases were piling up, and I had tickets to see Shawn’s gallery opening tomorrow. My bestie, Quinn, “helpfully” suggested, “Hey, I know a bunch of hot guys from my gym. Want me to set you up with one?” “Uh, I don’t know, Quinn,” I mumbled. “Feels kinda wrong. I mean, technically, I’m a married woman.” If Cole found out and cut off my allowance, how would I ever afford that Tiffany diamond I’ve been eyeing? “It’s just hanging out, Maya,” Quinn scoffed. “Nobody’s asking you to cheat. Get your mind out of the gutter, girl.” Still, the thought of a ripped bodyguard… my weak-willed self couldn’t resist. I gave Quinn the green light to post it. 【Hot bodyguard needed ASAP. $10k/day, plus expenses (travel, food). Must be discreet. DM for details.】 Not even five minutes later, Quinn called back, practically buzzing. “Done! Sent him your address. He said he’s on his way. Get acquainted!” The doorbell rang the second I hung up. Damn, I thought, that’s some serious speed. Must be ripped AND fast. But when I opened the door and saw Jayden standing there, all dressed in black, I nearly hurled. My freaking train-wreck of an ex? “A ‘personal’ bodyguard?” he sneered, looking me up and down. “Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing.” “Ten grand a day? Seriously? You couldn’t even spot me for a bag of chips back when we were together.” I swear, if Quinn was here right now, I’d knock her teeth out. “What’s it to you, you scrawny jerk!” I snapped, trying to shut the door. Jayden’s face darkened instantly. He wedged his foot in the doorway. “Who are you calling scrawny?” He yanked off his jacket, revealing a tight black tank top underneath. His arms were seriously jacked, easily twice the size of mine. Okay, so maybe two years had turned him into a beefcake. So what? Still didn’t change the fact that he was a cheating scumbag. I raised an eyebrow, letting my gaze drift pointedly downwards. “Where exactly are you not scrawny? Don’t you know?” Let him chew on that one. Jayden just smirked. He pushed the door open wider, stepping inside. His hands went to his belt buckle. “Seeing is believing, right? How can you judge what you haven’t seen… recently?” My eyes widened. Before I could scream at him, the hallway filled with people in full white hazmat suits. “Potential exposure! Quarantine required!” one announced. I kicked Jayden hard in the shin. “You idiot! You’re flagged and you came here?” Then, the hazmat guy next to me handed me a suit. “Secondary contact. You’re coming too.” My brain short-circuited. No! My Shawn gallery opening was tomorrow! “No, wait, officer… uh, sir,” I stammered. “I’ve been home isolating! I literally just saw this guy, like, two seconds ago! I don’t need full quarantine, right?” The figure in front of me paused. He tilted his head, looking straight at me through the face shield. “What did you call me?” 2 That deep voice, the slight upward lilt, those narrow, dark eyes peering through the plastic shield, glinting with… amusement? I swallowed hard. The word “Honey” or “Babe” felt lodged in my throat. Someone please explain when forensic pathologists started moonlighting in pandemic control? I froze, trying to formulate an excuse. But Jayden, not even bothering with his hazmat suit yet, slung an arm over my shoulder. “Yeah, officer, she totally needs to be quarantined,” he chimed in, grinning like an idiot. “Major rule-breaker, this one. Inviting me over from way across town during a health crisis for a little… gathering.” Gathering my foot! I swung another kick, but he dodged, pulling a face. “Missed me!” “Alright, alright, break up the lovebirds,” another hazmat suit sighed, coming down the hallway. “Get dressed, both of you. Let’s go.” “Who’s lovebirds?!” I yelped, feeling a scorching gaze lock onto me. I instantly regretted shouting. Even buried under layers of protective gear, I could feel the icy waves rolling off Cole. Help! What happens when your forensic pathologist husband gets mad? Does he dissect you in your sleep and flush the pieces? My imagination was running wild. “Maya,” Cole’s voice was dangerously calm. “Sounds like you’ve been having quite the time while I was away.” Jayden, standing between us, looked back and forth. “Wait, you two know each other?” “H-husband,” I mumbled, wishing the floor would swallow me whole. Silence. Then Jayden practically jumped. “Maya, you’re MARRIED?!” His shouting gave me a headache. Right now, these two guys felt like the grim reapers fighting over who got to drag me to hell first. According to protocol, Jayden’s recent movements had to be logged. He pointed straight at me. “Well, shouldn’t you track her movements too? She’s a close contact! Maybe she’s the primary source!” I shot up from my seat. “No! Don’t check!” Cole, sitting across from us now at some processing center, looked up, his eyes dark pools. He uttered one, chilling word: “Check.” It felt like a death sentence. I wanted to bang my head against the wall. Soon, the system spat out our recent digital footprints. The intake worker stared. “Okay… one of you pinged at every single bar between downtown and the west side, and the other… daily visits to late-night spas and massage parlors? What kind of ‘gathering’ were you two planning?” His look was pure judgment. I couldn’t even lift my head. Mentally, I cursed Quinn a thousand times. If I’d known it would come to this, I never would have let her drag me to those sketchy 24-hour “wellness centers.” I slumped forward, resting my forehead on the table, already mourning my allowance. Someone tapped the table twice. I looked up. The room was empty except for Cole and me. He’d taken off the head covering of the suit. “Spending my money,” he began, his voice low, “to hire another man… while you’re out getting foot rubs every night? Are your feet made of gold?” I cleared my throat. “It was Quinn! She dragged me there! Besides,” I tried weakly, “think of the small businesses! They’re struggling with the pandemic and everything. I was just… supporting the local economy…” Cole picked up his phone and made a call. “Yeah, the one frequenting the spas? There’s an accomplice. Alert the local health department, check if she needs quarantine too.” I… “Accomplice? That sounds so criminal!” Before I could argue further, Cole leaned in close. He still had his mask on, but his eyes, intense and deep, were inches from mine. My breath hitched. I just stared. “Miss Miller,” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower, “have you forgotten exactly who your man is?” My face flushed crimson. I… I… my man is Cole!

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My name is Sarah Davis, and I grew up in Columbus, Ohio. If my dad hadn’t collapsed unexpectedly right around my twenty-eighth birthday, I probably would’ve stuck to the life plan he’d always envisioned for me: get married, have kids. But things didn’t turn out that way. Dad had liver cancer. The doctor hit me with the worst news possible – it was advanced, and the chemo costs alone would completely drain our comfortable, middle-class savings. Not to mention the suffering Dad would go through. The best shot was a liver transplant. I’m an only child. The second I heard “transplant,” I stepped up without a second thought. I’d give part of my liver to save my dad, the man who’d loved and spoiled me for over twenty years. Hell, I’d trade my life for his if it came down to it. But fate had a twisted sense of humor. My blood type is O. Dad’s is AB. They didn’t match. Which meant… I wasn’t his biological daughter. I couldn’t donate my liver to save him even if I wanted to. That news hit me like a ton of bricks. I just stood there, numb. The despair was so thick I felt like I was suffocating. I couldn’t save my dad. I couldn’t even try. I shoved down the wave of grief threatening to drown me, wiped the tears that sprang up automatically, and hardened my resolve: I had to save my dad. I absolutely had to. I stayed by his bedside, waiting for him to wake up. I remember that wait feeling like an eternity. Sitting there, watching him, my heart hammered against my ribs. I was terrified. Terrified he might never open his eyes again. He did wake up. And when he saw me, the familiar smile touched his eyes as he rasped, “Sarah-bear.” It felt impossible. How could this man, who looked at me with so much love, not be my real father? He’d always been so good to me! But I knew this wasn’t the time for my own breakdown. I had to hold it together. Before I could figure out what to say, he spoke first: “Sarah-bear, Dad knows what’s wrong with me. Let’s just go home.” I stared at him, shocked. “You knew? You knew what was wrong and you didn’t tell me? Why would you hide it? If you hadn’t hidden it, maybe we could have caught it earlier, treated it!” “Now… now I want to save you, and I can’t! I don’t even have the right to save you!” Liver cancer. Transplant needed. If I were his biological daughter, I could have done it. “Sarah Davis, what on earth are you talking about? Your father is sick like this, and you’re saying things to upset him?” My mom must have heard my raised voice from the hallway. She burst into the room. She thought I was fighting with Dad. She pointed a finger right at my face, ready to scold me. My mom was always good to me, too. I knew she just misunderstood. “No, Mom, I wasn’t…” I tried to deny it, but my eyes were already swimming with tears. How could I tell them? The truth about not being theirs? Countless times, they’d reminisced about how cute I was as a baby, how nervous and excited they were. My mind raced. Where did it all go wrong? But looking at my dad, so weak and frail, I couldn’t keep lying to him, not when he was so sick. Steeling myself, I choked out the truth. My words landed like a bomb. Mom couldn’t handle it; she just collapsed, fainting right into my arms. Dad, though, his face was a storm of complex emotions. My own heart felt like it was being shredded. I couldn’t stop myself. “Dad… you knew? You knew I wasn’t your biological daughter?” He hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded slowly. I saw the raw pain, the sorrow, the intense struggle in his dark eyes. “Dad, what happened? How?” I desperately needed the truth. I knew my unconscious mother would need it too when she woke up. In that instant, I truly understood those clichés in movies and books about someone aging ten years in a moment. That was my dad right then. The exhaustion on his face was profound. He let out a long, heavy sigh and, to my shock, tears welled up in his eyes. “Your mom… the delivery had complications. The baby didn’t get enough oxygen… it was stillborn. And Mom… she hemorrhaged badly during the delivery. Afterward, the doctors said… she couldn’t have any more children.” “I was terrified,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “Terrified of how she’d take the news when she woke up. I was trying to figure out how to tell her when… when I found you.” Dad told me about that day in the hospital, twenty-eight years ago. After learning about the stillbirth and Mom’s condition, he’d been devastated, pacing the hospital hallway, chain-smoking recklessly. I could picture it. He was always such a good man, a good father. He said my biological parents were having a massive fight down the hall. The bio-father had apparently cheated, and his mistress had just given birth in the same hospital. He was trying to see which woman would give him a son. My biological mother was enraged. She found out he’d cheated, and now she had a daughter he clearly didn’t want. According to Dad, she was a strong-willed woman. If this jerk didn’t want the baby and had betrayed her, why should she raise his child? She was apparently threatening to just abandon me, maybe worse – Dad said something about her screaming about throwing me out a sixth-floor window – when he stepped in. “If neither of you wants this child, give her to me,” he’d told them frantically. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her. I’ll raise her like she’s my own flesh and blood!” Dad admitted he was shocked by their willingness to give me up, but their desperation sparked a desperate hope in him. They didn’t want a baby. He desperately needed one – to shield Mom from the devastating truth. He took me, presented me to Mom when she woke up, and begged the doctors and nurses to keep the secret. If he hadn’t gotten sick, I never would have known. He would have carried that secret forever. I finally understood why Mom fainted. She couldn’t process it – the daughter she’d poured her heart into for twenty-eight years wasn’t hers. But mostly, my heart ached for her. What would happen when she woke up and learned the full truth – that her own baby had died at birth? How crushing would that be? And me? How could I even worry about anyone else? My whole life felt like a cruel joke. The parents who adored me weren’t my real parents. My biological father only wanted a boy. My biological mother didn’t want me either. I was just… extra. Unwanted from the start. 2 In that moment, I felt completely adrift, like a piece of debris floating on an endless ocean with nowhere to belong. “Sarah-bear,” Dad choked out, his voice cracking, “even though you’re not… biologically mine… all these years, I’ve always loved you like you were…” I knew he meant it. I wasn’t heartless or blind. I saw how they treated me my whole life, the sacrifices they made, the love they showered on me. But knowing that made the pain sharper. They didn’t adopt me in the usual sense. They transferred the love meant for their lost child onto me. Everything I had, even my name, Sarah Davis, felt like it belonged to someone else. I needed to breathe. I needed to think. I arranged for Mom to have the room next to Dad’s. But just as I gently helped lay her on the bed, her eyes fluttered open. The moment she remembered, her gaze changed. She looked at me like I was a complete stranger. With a sudden shove, she pushed me away and scrambled out of the room. Caught off guard, I stumbled backward and landed hard on the floor. I’ve fallen before, but this time, the pain felt deep, bone-jarring. Worry surged through me – Mom was distraught. Ignoring the throbbing pain, I scrambled up and chased after her. She’d gone straight to Dad’s room. She stood before him, shaking him by the shoulders, her voice raw and hysterical. “You were right outside the delivery room! Michael Davis, were you dead?! Where did my baby go? Tell me! Where is my baby?!” She kept shaking him, demanding answers. Dad didn’t respond, which only fueled her frenzy. She grabbed the water glass from the bedside table and raised it, about to smash it over his head. Without thinking, I lunged forward, positioning myself between them. The glass hit my head with a dull thud. My scalp tingled numbly, and spots danced before my eyes. “Linda!” Dad yelled, his voice sharp with anger and worry for me. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, but calm down! How could you do that to Sarah?” I could feel something warm trickling down my forehead. My vision swam with red. But Mom was beyond reason. She glared at Dad like he was the enemy. “So-called truth? What is it, Michael? Spit it out! You knew, didn’t you? You knew everything! Why? Why did I raise a child for twenty-eight years who has no blood connection to me? WHERE IS MY CHILD?” As a mother who carried a child for nine months, who felt that connection, I understood her agony. And I knew, firsthand, the effort and love she’d poured into raising me all these years. But now, finding out I wasn’t hers… the shock, the betrayal… of course, she couldn’t accept it. Hell, I could barely accept it. “The baby…” Dad finally whispered, his lips tight, the words coming out painfully slow. “…died.” Mom completely lost it. She slapped Dad hard across the face, twice. “What lies are you telling me, Michael Davis?! How could my baby be dead? Explain yourself, or I swear I won’t let this go!” Dad, his voice trembling, recounted the entire story again, every painful detail of that day twenty-eight years ago. I stood there, feeling completely invisible. When he finished, Mom just dissolved into heartbroken sobs. I instinctively reached out to comfort her, but the second my hand brushed her arm, she flinched away violently. Whether it was intentional or just raw grief, the rejection stabbed me right through the heart. I couldn’t blame her for crying, for grieving. But we’d lived together for twenty-eight years. Even without blood ties, wasn’t there some bond between us? Some affection built over decades of shared life? How could she treat me like this? It hurt, but I couldn’t hold it against them. I sank to my knees in front of them. “Mom, Dad,” I choked out, tears streaming down my face, “please, listen. From the moment I came into your lives, from my very first memories, you have been my real parents. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for me.” This was my promise. Even if my liver wasn’t a match, I would find a donor. I would search high and low. I’d give everything I had, even my own life, if necessary. Mom was devastated, but slowly, agonizingly, she began to accept the reality. I practically lived at the hospital, juggling caring for Dad, managing his chemo treatments, and desperately searching for a compatible liver donor. The chemo was burning through money like wildfire. Our savings, my savings – all gone. We borrowed from every friend, every relative we could think of. Still, no suitable donor surfaced. Dad started talking about stopping treatment. Even Mom pulled me aside, her eyes filled with exhaustion. “We’ve been looking for so long, Sarah. We can’t find anyone. Your dad and I… we’re ready to let go.” Her voice broke. “Thank you, Sarah, for these twenty-eight years. You should go find your biological parents. You shouldn’t be saddled with all this debt.” Cancer treatment was a bottomless pit. Her words felt like tiny, sharp needles piercing my heart. “Mom, no!” I cried, grabbing her hands. “I want to do this! Forget the debt, I’d die for you guys! I can’t just stand by and watch Dad die! I can’t!” “But honey,” she said gently, “we’ve borrowed from everyone. Who else is left? Selling the house won’t even cover it all. Your dad and I have accepted it. Why are you still fighting so hard?” No. I couldn’t give up. That much I knew for sure. We couldn’t sell the house; it was the only home they had. We could mortgage it, take out loans, but not sell it. Where would Mom and Dad live? I looked into getting a loan from the bank, but without a steady job right now, the best I could get against the house was maybe a $30,000 line of credit. For Dad’s medical bills, that was barely a drop in the bucket. It wasn’t nearly enough. Just as they were about to give up completely, an idea sparked in my mind. If my biological parents abandoned me, then legally, they owed me. I could find them. I could sue them for child support for all these years. Twenty-eight years. Even just counting eighteen years of support, based on what Dad said about them, I might get a significant amount. If I found them, their abandonment was undeniable. My resolve hardened. I would sue them. I had to save Dad. I stopped my parents as they started gathering their things to leave the hospital. They looked weary. “We told you, Sarah, we’re not your real parents. You don’t have to keep doing this for us.” “You don’t get it!” I insisted, my voice fierce. “You are my parents! I can’t be a heartless person! I have to save Dad! I have to!” It was about principle. It was about conscience. They looked at me, helpless. So I played my last card. I threatened them with my own life. If they insisted on leaving the hospital, I’d jump from the fourth-floor window right then and there. They stared at me, stunned. I wasn’t bluffing. As the words left my mouth, I scrambled towards the window, swinging one leg over the sill. “Sarah! Get down from there! Now!” Mom and Dad yelled almost in unison. Twenty-eight years of love and shared life… you can’t just turn that off. They weren’t cruel people. My desperate gamble worked. Shocked and scared, they agreed to stay.

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My grandma was dead set on having a grandson, so she started forcing Momma to eat this special stew. Said it was some old mountain recipe guaranteed to work. But right around then, little boys started disappearing from the next county over. Finally, Momma got pregnant, but then… then she died out in the pigsty. I thought that was the end of it. But one morning, clear as day, there she was again, standing right in front of me like nothing ever happened. 01 After I was born, Momma never could seem to get pregnant again. Grandma Hazel never gave her a moment’s peace. If she wasn’t muttering under her breath for Momma to just drop dead, she was beating her so bad Momma couldn’t get out of bed for days. “Other folks’ wives pop out babies one after another,” Grandma’d spit, her voice like gravel. “But you? Nothing stirring’ in that belly. A hen that won’t lay ain’t worth its feed. Might as well be dead.” Momma would just keep stirring the pot on the stove, her face blank. She’d heard it all too many times over the years. I’d be tending the fire, trying to make myself small say a word. ‘Cause I was a girl. A “mouth to feed with no return,” Grandma always said. My being born was the reason Momma couldn’t hold her head up in this house. A few days later, Grandma came back acting all pleased with herself, carrying a big pot of steaming stew. Said it was a special recipe from Miss Ida, the old woman down the hollow who knew things. Said this stew would guarantee a boy, and Momma had to eat every last drop. Right then and there. Momma never had much of an appetite, skinny as a rail she was. Just looking at that brimming pot made her face go pale. It was thick and dark, with bits floating in it I couldn’t quite make out. Didn’t look good at all. “Don’t you be difficult now,” Grandma Hazel snapped. “Cost me a pretty penny, this brew from Miss Ida. You will eat it all! Not one bite left!” Grandma grabbed a big ladleful and shoved it towards Momma’s mouth. I looked at the stew again. It had a strange, greasy sheen to it, and a smell I didn’t like. Kind of coppery. It made my stomach churn just looking at it. Momma tried, she really did, but she couldn’t keep it down. She started gagging, then throwing up. Grandma saw it and went red in the face. She grabbed Momma by the hair, forcing her head down. “You pick that up and eat it! Ungrateful!” Momma refused, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. That just earned her a thrashing from Grandma right there on the kitchen floor. In the end, Momma ate the whole pot, choking it down between sobs. And that’s how it went. Every day, Momma had to eat a whole pot of that awful stew. For a while, things seemed calmer in the house, at least. But then word got around about those missing boys from over in Miller’s Creek. When Grandma Hazel heard, her eyes just flickered for a second. “Gone is gone,” she muttered. “Folks can always make another one, can’t they?” 2 Two months later, Momma missed her period. Then she started throwing up in the mornings. Grandma Hazel was beside herself with joy. She doubled the stew – two pots a day now. Momma’s belly swelled up fast. By six months, she was so big and weak she couldn’t even get out of bed. Grandma was so sure it was finally a boy, she paid Miss Ida to come up to the house and check. But Miss Ida took one look, maybe felt Momma’s belly, and shook her head. Said it was another girl. Grandma Hazel’s face turned thunderous. She grabbed the old broom from the corner and started whaling on Momma right there in the bed. Momma couldn’t even move, just curled up, trying to protect her stomach, taking the blows. I saw blood starting to seep through the back of her thin nightgown. I couldn’t stand it. I burst out crying and ran, throwing myself over Momma. “Grandma, stop! Please! You’ll hurt Momma and the baby!” “You worthless thing!” Grandma shrieked, turning on me. “Protecting her? I’ll beat you both!” “Feedin’ you good food every day, treatin’ you like gold, and this is what I get? Another useless girl! You little tramp! Who knows if that brat is even Frank’s!” She kept yelling, swinging the broom wildly. I tried to shield Momma, feeling the sharp thwacks land on my own back and arms. My dad, Frank, had just been standing there watching, like usual when Grandma went off. But when she yelled that maybe the baby wasn’t his, his face changed. It went hard and ugly. He grabbed Miss Ida’s arm. “Miss Ida,” he pleaded, his voice low and urgent. “You gotta… you gotta get rid of it. For us.” “That’s right!” Grandma chimed in, eyes gleaming. “Get that girl outta there! Make room for my grandson!” Hearing that, Momma suddenly went wild. She started screaming, trying to scramble out of bed, clawing towards the door. But Miss Ida was quick. She barked orders at Dad and Grandma, and between the three of them, they overpowered Momma, tying her wrists and ankles to the bedposts with old rope. They haggled over the price for getting rid of the baby right there in the room. Miss Ida leaned in and whispered something in Grandma’s ear, making Grandma nod eagerly. Dad kicked me out of the room, slamming the door shut. I could hear Momma’s terrible, desperate screams from inside. I pounded on the door, begging them to stop, to let her go. Grandma’s voice came through the wood, sharp and cruel. “Hush up out there, girl! Ain’t your place to talk! After we deal with this… problem… inside your momma, I’m sellin’ you off to old man Hemlock down the hollow! Get you off my hands, stop you eatin’ our food and sidin’ with that tramp!” I just sank to my knees on the rough wooden porch, staring at the closed door, at the angry shadow of my father moving inside. I couldn’t make a sound. Then, suddenly, Momma’s screaming stopped. 3 By some miracle, Momma didn’t die. But she wasn’t right. She just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open but seeing nothing. I’d call her name, touch her hand, but she wouldn’t react. After they… got rid of the baby… strange sounds started coming from the room at night. Soft whimpering, sometimes choked little cries. The neighbors knew what was going on. They whispered amongst themselves how the Millers were too hard on Emily, how treating a woman like that wouldn’t bring a boy, might even curse the family. When Grandma Hazel heard the gossip, she stormed over to the neighbor’s house and beat the woman who’d been talking. Came back muttering how her grandson was coming soon, just wait and see. Then one day, just like that, Momma seemed… better. She started eating again, sleeping through the night. She even looked healthier, put on a little weight. But her mind was gone. She’d gone crazy. She started carrying around this old, worn-out baby doll, cradling it to her belly, saying it was her baby boy. She’d tape pictures of smiling babies torn from magazines onto her stomach and wander around the property, sometimes drifting down the road. If she saw someone, she’d lift her shirt right up, eager to show them her “son.” Folks in the area knew she wasn’t right in the head. Some felt sorry for her, but mostly they just thought it was funny, something to gossip about. They’d tease her sometimes when they saw her. That would scare Momma bad. She’d clutch the doll tighter and run away, like she was afraid they’d frighten her baby. But Grandma Hazel and Dad couldn’t stand being laughed at. They locked Momma in the house. She could move around inside, but they wouldn’t let her out the door. A crazy woman could still work, after all. Still slop the hogs, scrub the floors. Momma didn’t get any better, though. Seemed to get worse, actually. She’d spend longer and longer just staring into space. When she wasn’t zoned out, she’d follow Dad around, holding up the doll, wanting him to admire “their son.” Finally, Dad got fed up. He dragged her out back and shoved her into the empty pigsty next to the one with the hogs. Told her she could sleep there with the dirt. Said if she was so sure she had a baby, maybe they should just cut her open and take a look. 4 That night, I was half-asleep when I heard noises from the kitchen. Sounded like Momma moving around. I didn’t think much of it. Figured she was hungry, looking for something to eat. I just rolled over and went back to sleep. Next morning, I got up early, like always, to fix breakfast and feed the hogs. I mixed up the slop bucket and carried it out towards the sties. When I got close, I saw her. Momma. Lying on the muddy ground in the empty sty. Her stomach was cut wide open. Her insides… they were spilled out all over the dirt. Blood was everywhere. In one hand, she still clutched that dirty kitchen knife. In the other, the raggedy baby doll. Just lying there, staring up at the gray sky. I dropped the slop bucket. I ran towards her, screaming for Grandma, for Dad, screaming for them to wake up. I pushed away one of the hogs from the next pen that was snuffling at… at Momma’s insides through the fence. I knelt beside her in the mud. I didn’t know what to do. My hands hovered over her. I wanted to push everything back inside, cover the awful gash, pull her out of the filth, but I was too scared to touch her. I was terrified. I just broke down, sobbing, crying out, “Somebody help Momma! Please, somebody help!” “What’s all the racket out here? It’s barely daylight! Breakfast ready yet?” Grandma Hazel came shuffling out, pulling her robe around her shoulders, heading towards the pigsties. When she saw the scene, she stopped dead. Then she turned right around and ran out the front gate, fast as her old legs could carry her. A little while later, she came back, dragging Miss Ida behind her. I was still sitting there next to Momma, all cried out, just numb. Grandma didn’t even look at me as she came through the gate, already muttering curses. “Good riddance,” she spat. “Couldn’t even die somewhere else. Had to do it right here in the pigsty, where we keep our money-makers. Bad luck, that’s what it is. Just plain bad luck.” Miss Ida didn’t say anything. She just walked up to the edge of the sty, peered in for a second, then turned and headed towards the house, into the living room. I was scared they were plotting something else horrible, so I scrambled up and followed them. “She’s dead,” Miss Ida said flatly. “Killed herself. Gotta get her buried. Quick.” “So where d’you reckon is best, Miss Ida?” Grandma asked, suddenly all sweet and polite, pushing the jar of Momma’s wildflower honey into Miss Ida’s hands. Our only jar. I stared at that honey. Momma had gone up the mountain herself to gather the nectar for it, just for me. I was the least favorite in the house, always eating leftovers after they were done. Momma worried I’d waste away, so she got me that honey. It was the only thing she’d ever really been able to give me. I wanted to snatch it back. I started to move, but Grandma shoved me hard. I fell onto the floorboards. “Get away, you little brat,” she hissed, glaring down at me. “You think you deserve something nice? Get outta here.” I just sat there, hurting, staring up at them with pure hate, but I couldn’t do anything. “Tonight,” Miss Ida said, tucking the honey into her bag. “You and your son take the body up the back hill. Bury her there. Good spot, that land. Your boy marries again, he’ll get a son first try, guaranteed.” Miss Ida turned to leave. As she passed me, she paused, looking me up and down. “My, my,” she said, a strange look in her eyes. “This little granddaughter of yours… she’s turnin’ into quite a pretty little thing.” 5 Grandma Hazel and Dad were too busy figuring out how to bury Momma secretly to bother with me. I found an old bedsheet and gently covered Momma up. I picked up the baby doll from her cold hand, tears streaming down my face again. I had to get help. I remembered hearing folks talk about a Sheriff’s office in the next town over. I had to tell someone. I waited for a chance, then I bolted out the door and ran as fast as I could down the dirt road towards the edge of town. But I didn’t even make it to the main road before Mr. Henderson, the man who ran things around here, caught up to me in his pickup truck. He just smiled, asked where I was off to in such a hurry, and drove me right back home. Dad was waiting on the porch. He grabbed me by the hair, dragged me inside, and threw me into my little room, locking the door from the outside. “Damn girl!” he roared through the door. “Feed you, raise you, and you try to run off! Just goes to show – can’t trust a kid from a woman we brought here! Ungrateful!” Brought here? Yes, Momma hadn’t always lived here. They’d brought her here. Like most of the women in our neck of the woods, truth be told. I’d overheard whispers. Momma used to be in college somewhere, far away. Smart, pretty. And now… that smart, pretty woman was dead. Murdered by inches, forced into madness, and left to die in a filthy pigsty. Just before dark, Miss Ida came back. She supervised as Dad and Grandma shoved Momma’s body into a burlap sack. Then the three of them headed out towards the back hill. I wanted to follow, just to see where they put her, so I could maybe leave flowers someday, or just… know. But Grandma caught me trying to sneak out. She beat me again, hard, warning me not to cause any more trouble. I waited up, huddled in my dark room, until they came back, way late into the night. I heard them whispering in the living room. “You remember what Miss Ida said?” Grandma hissed. “Don’t you ever go up there. Don’t even think about her. Like she never existed.” “Yeah, yeah, Ma, I heard ya,” Dad grumbled, sounding tired. “Said it fifty times on the way back.” “You sure… you sure you didn’t feel like someone was watchin’ us back there? On the hill?” Grandma sounded spooked. “Nah, Ma. Just the wind. You’re gettin’ jumpy. Go on to bed now.” Dad’s footsteps headed towards his room. Sleep wouldn’t come for me. All I could think about was Momma. Working herself to the bone for this family, forced to eat that vile stew, and now… now they wanted to pretend she never even existed. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. I wouldn’t run again. Not yet. I had to do something. For Momma. I had to make them pay. The next morning, I got up at dawn, same as always, to feed the hogs. As I got closer to the sties, my heart pounding with grief and anger, I saw something that made me stop in my tracks. There was someone standing in the empty pigsty. Where Momma had been. When I saw the face, my legs went weak, and I sank right down onto the muddy ground. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. I just stared, frozen, at the woman who looked exactly, exactly like my momma, watching her slowly turn and walk towards me…

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