I’d been away on a business trip for half a month. The second my plane touched down, I rushed straight home. On the way, I tried calling my fiancé, Brandon , a bunch of times, but he didn’t pick up. I figured I’d stop trying and just surprise him when I got home. But when I used my key to open the door, for a second, I thought I’d walked into the wrong apartment. Why was there a woman inside? And a baby? 1. I stood there in the doorway, luggage handle still in my grip, completely stunned. “Hey, Lynn, you’re back?” Brandon greeted me like nothing was weird. “Pam Tong had a fight with her husband, and she just had the baby, so she’s crashing here for a few days.” He looked totally casual. “Actually, since you haven’t even taken your shoes off yet, could you run out and grab some stuff? The baby still needs a lot.” I couldn’t catch my breath and snapped at him. “What do you mean? Did you even talk to me about this?” “Look, we can talk after you get back with the stuff,” Brandon said, trying to nudge me out the door. Just then, the baby started wailing. It looked so tiny, like it was just born. I bit back my anger. Fine. I’d go get the stuff first, then deal with this. He handed me a long list – formula, diapers, changing pads, everything. There’s a baby supply store just down the block from our building. Walking there, I got angrier and angrier. Pam Tong was Brandon’s childhood friend, the one he grew up with. When we first started dating, we fought about her constantly. She always seemed to tag along on our dates. Brandon bought her gifts for holidays, same as me. Whenever we hung out with his friends, they’d always tease Brandon and Pam about being a couple. The worst time was during a game of Truth or Dare. Pam was dared to kiss a guy in the room, and she went straight for Brandon. Right after, she turned to me and said, “Lynn, sorry, couldn’t help it, Bran and I are just that close, you know? You’re not mad, right?” Whenever I brought her up during arguments, Brandon would brush it off. “If we were going to get together, we would have ages ago. We’re just buddies. You’re being way too sensitive.” Luckily, she got a boyfriend not long after and moved out of state with him. Things quieted down for a while after that. So why was she back now?! And staying at my place postpartum?! When I got back with the bags, I swallowed my rage and planned to go see her. But Brandon stopped me. “Don’t go in there yet. You just came in from outside, you’ll bring a chill in. She’s still recovering, you know.” That was it. I yanked my arm away. “Are you insane? How could you let her stay here to recover?” “Come on, she’s a friend, just helping her out, what’s the big deal? She fought with her husband, had nowhere else to go.” Brandon looked completely unbothered. “We’ll sleep in the spare room. Let her have the master bedroom. She’ll leave after she’s recovered.” “And now that you’re back,” he continued, “she just gave birth, dealing with all that postpartum stuff… messy. And I’m clumsy with babies, not like you women. You can help take care of her and the kid.” I was so furious I actually calmed down. “You want me, an unmarried woman with no kids, to take care of someone I barely know, who just had a baby? Are you out of your mind?” I grabbed my suitcase handle again. “Good thing I haven’t unpacked. I’m staying somewhere else tonight. Tomorrow, I don’t want to see her in this apartment.” With that, I slammed the door behind me. 2 I was exhausted from the flight anyway. So, I checked into a hotel nearby. I’d stay the night, get some rest, and figure out my next move tomorrow with a clear head. I scrolled through Pam’s social media. Turns out, she’d been here for ten days. “Feeling safe enough to rest before the baby comes, surrounded by the people I trust most.” The picture? Brandon carrying her suitcase, his arm around her. Five days ago, when the baby was born, she posted a photo of Brandon holding the newborn. “Bran is always my rock.” There were other baby pics too, the background clearly my bedroom, the baby nestled in the expensive bedding I picked out. Seeing those posts made my blood boil. I texted my best friend, Maya. “Guess who just won the lottery for ‘most likely to get cheated on’? Me. Lynn Han.” Maya called me immediately. I spilled everything. She was furious, telling me she’d bring over two guys from her boxing gym tomorrow to help me kick those two weirdos out. Venting helped. A lot. Knowing I had a battle ahead tomorrow, I went to bed early. First thing in the morning, Maya showed up with the two guys. And wow, they were handsome. Built like refrigerators, faces like models, and super polite. “Hi, Lynn! You’re really pretty. That guy’s blind.” “Totally. Don’t worry, Lynn, we’ll definitely help you get them out.” Their compliments actually made me feel a bit better, lifting my mood. Back at my apartment, I found that neither Brandon nor Pam had made any move to pack. Pam was still camped out in my bedroom like she owned the place. Before I could even say anything, Pam walked over to me. “Lynn, my husband… he hit me.” Tears started rolling down her face immediately. “He’d actually lay hands on me, right after I gave birth. I just couldn’t stay there. I had nowhere else to go. Bran felt sorry for me, that’s the only reason he let me stay.” “I have no one else,” she sobbed. “Please, just help me out.” All these years, I had to admit, her ability to cry on command was impressive. “You can’t go home? What about your parents?” Maya couldn’t stand it and cut right in. “My parents are old. I don’t want to burden them,” Pam wept, hugging the now-crying baby tighter. “You don’t want to burden them, but you have no problem burdening me? You seriously think I, a single woman who’s never had kids, am equipped to take care of you postpartum?” I was speechless. What kind of logic was that? “Lynn Han, is now really the time to be angry? Don’t you know she just had a baby?” Brandon yelled at me, furious. Then he turned to Pam, his voice suddenly gentle. “Don’t cry. It’s bad for your eyes when you’re recovering. Go back inside.” He put a hand on her shoulder and gently guided her back towards the bedroom. A woman recovering from childbirth, crying like that… I didn’t even know what to say. But then, just before she went into the room, Pam looked back over Brandon’s shoulder and shot me a triumphant smirk. She was doing it on purpose! That flipped a switch. Before Brandon could even turn back around, I laid down the law. “I’m giving you one more day. If you’re not gone with her by tomorrow, I’m throwing all your stuff out!” 3 We left, defeated. A woman recovering from childbirth, a baby just days old… the guys Maya brought couldn’t really do or say much. Still, I was grateful. I took Maya and the guys out for lunch. “What do you even see in him? I told you from the start, anyone who hangs around that Pam character is bad news,” Maya said, looking at me like I was hopeless. “She hadn’t caused trouble in years! I thought she was gone for good,” I mumbled, feeling miserable. “And we’ve been together five years, met each other’s parents, we were about to get married. When Pam wasn’t around, he was actually pretty good to me.” “So when Pam shows up, you just step aside? You’re okay with that?” “Have you ever thought,” Maya pressed, “why he was so nice to you when Pam wasn’t around? Maybe it was because you’re good-looking, you’re local, you own property, you make good money?” I couldn’t argue. I’d never really considered it from that angle. Guess it’s true what they say: you can’t see the forest for the trees. Just then, my mom called. “Hi, Mom?” Her voice was serious. “Lynn, is something wrong? Tell Mom.” “No, Mom, everything’s fine. Why?” “Then why are Brandon and some woman with a baby staying at your place? Where are you?” I shot up from my seat. “Mom, you came over? I’ll come get you!” After picking up my mom, I found out the whole story. Those two lowlifes heard my mom knocking but pretended not to be home. They didn’t even open the door. They just left my mother standing outside. My mom got suspicious, waited a bit, and heard unfamiliar voices from inside. Now I was truly furious. It was one thing for them to disrespect me, but leaving my mom locked out? They seemed to forget whose name was on the deed to this place – bought and paid for by my family! But I held it together in front of my mom. I didn’t want her to worry. I told her it was just a friend who’d fought with her family and needed a place to crash for a few days, that she’d be gone soon. Maybe they were busy with the baby and didn’t hear the door. My mom looked skeptical but went home.

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My father disappeared. The day after I reported him missing, I received his severed hand. Soon after, his body was found. My father’s mistress and my boyfriend were listed as suspects. Betrayed by those closest to me, I cried uncontrollably in public, but deep down, I was secretly smiling. They didn’t know yet—I was the one who killed him! … My father’s secretary called to tell me he was missing. I was out of town, but I rushed back that night to my father’s house. I pushed the door open. The whole house was dark and silent. A gust of wind whistled past my ear with a low moan, making my heart pound. I quickly fumbled for the light switch in the entryway. The light flooded a scene of chaos. Ceramic shards littered the floor, along with scattered fruit and splatters of blood. My legs gave out, and I collapsed, hands trembling as I pulled out my phone to call 911. Twenty minutes later, the police arrived. They put up yellow tape, then, fully geared up, entered the living room to process the scene. “Detective Evans,” I asked, my voice shaking, “my dad… he’s going to be okay, right?” “Ms. Miller,” Detective Evans said, “we can’t be sure yet. But rest assured, we’ll do everything we can to find your father. Once we’re done here, please check if anything valuable is missing.” After the police finished their initial sweep, I put on shoe covers and gloves and started checking for missing items. “Are you sure nothing’s gone?” Detective Evans asked later. I shook my head. “Besides what’s broken on the floor… there’s a safe missing. Nothing else seems to be gone.” “Alright. Please come with us to the station to give a formal statement.” 2 At the police station, I took a sip of water, trying to calm myself. “Okay, I’m ready.” Detective Evans started. “Your name, please?” “Sarah Miller.” “Who is the missing person? And what is your relationship to him?” “The missing person is Steven Miller. He’s my father.” “When did he go missing?” “I don’t know exactly. When I got back from my business trip, the house was like this. I called his secretary, who said Dad hadn’t shown up for work since April 21st.” “You didn’t contact him while you were away?” “My dad’s usually very busy, and I was busy with the trip too, so we didn’t talk much.” Later, the police asked for my father’s personal information and details about his social circle. I answered everything. Finally, I asked anxiously, “My father was always kind to people. How could he just disappear?” Tears started streaming down my face as I spoke. Detective Evans told me to try and stay calm, then continued, “When was the last time you saw your father?” “The last time was two days before I left for my trip. That was April 15th.” Detective Evans looked up at me. “You remember the date clearly, Ms. Miller.” I gave a bitter smile. “That day was the anniversary of my mother’s death. I went to ask Dad to visit her grave with me, but he said he didn’t have time.” Recalling that day, something clicked. “Oh, Detective Evans, on the anniversary, Dad said he was busy because he thought there were problems with the company finances. He was looking into it. Isn’t it strange that he disappeared right after saying he was auditing the books?” Finally, Detective Evans asked for a detailed account of my activities from the day of my mother’s anniversary until I called the police, and exactly what I saw when I returned home… When I finished my statement and left the interrogation room, my boyfriend, Jake, was standing outside. Seeing him, my nose stung, and tears welled up again. Jake immediately pulled me into a hug, his face full of concern. “Sarah, don’t be scared. I’m here. I’ll be with you through this. Your dad will come back safe.” I couldn’t speak, just sobbed into his chest. After a moment, I pulled away, wiped my nose and eyes, and said, “You should go in now.” Both my boyfriend, Jake, and the company’s finance manager, Linda, had been asked to come to the station for questioning. Linda arrived while I was waiting for Jake on a bench in the station lobby. Seeing me, she spoke with undisguised sarcasm, “Still here, Assistant Manager Miller? You should be getting some rest, planning for the future, you know.” “The future? What are you talking about?” Her snide tone made my anger flare up. “Oh, nothing. Just concerned about you, that’s all.” I was about to retort when the interrogation room door opened. Jake walked out, looking dejected. As soon as he saw me, he rushed over. “Sarah, you have to believe me! I was home the entire time you were gone. I didn’t go anywhere.” It sounded like he didn’t have an alibi and was worried. I tried to soothe him. “Can anyone verify that? Or is there security footage showing you didn’t leave the house?” Jake sighed heavily. He said he was alone at home, and the security cameras outside his apartment building had been broken those few days. He gripped my hand. “I was really at home, Sarah. I was just playing video games the whole time. I didn’t go anywhere.” My voice turned cold. “Playing video games?” Jake’s eyes darted away. His lips turned pale, and he stammered, unable to say anything more. I looked at him, utterly disappointed. Before my trip, he told me he’d found a job. While I was away, he kept texting me about how he was adjusting to the new work. Turns out… he was lying to me the whole time. “Jake, you really disappoint me!” Linda watched the drama between us like a spectator at a play, let out a small, mocking laugh, and then sashayed into the interrogation room. I didn’t want to see Jake anymore either. I went back to the apartment I owned downtown. 3 Once home, I called Mr. Davis, my lawyer, asking him to follow up on the case at the police station. After hanging up, I collapsed onto the sofa, not wanting to move an inch. So much had happened in the last two days; I was completely exhausted. Just as I was drifting off, the sound of the keypad lock jolted me awake. My dad had just disappeared, and I was living alone now. Panic started to set in. My eyes were glued to the door, fear tightening around my neck like invisible hands. Click. The door opened. My heart felt like it was about to leap out of my chest. A familiar figure appeared outside—I instantly relaxed. It was Jake. Jake looked at me, concerned. “Sarah, are you okay? You look really pale.” I was still angry with him. “What’s it to you?!” “Sarah, you need to take care of yourself, otherwise…” He trailed off. “If you have something to say, say it. If not, get out!” Jake seemed to make up his mind. He was about to speak: “Sarah…” Buzz, buzz… My phone vibrated. It was Mr. Davis. Ignoring Jake, I answered. “Mr. Davis?” I listened quietly to his update, then just said, “Okay,” and hung up. Seeing me hang up, Jake immediately asked, “What did Mr. Davis say?” “That has nothing to do with you. What did you want to say?” For the first time since he walked in, Jake looked me straight in the eye, his expression earnest. “I wanted to tell you, when I first got close to you, it was because…” Ding-dong! The doorbell rang again, cutting Jake off mid-sentence.

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I pulled out all the stops to get Ethan Miller. I knew he carried a torch for someone else, his old flame, but I figured if I just tried hard enough, I could eventually take her place. Turns out, that was just wishful thinking. I never stood a chance against her memory. So, I decided to give up. But the day I broke up with him… I died. 1 “You’ve been sitting here for over an hour. Is that boyfriend of yours actually coming or not?” Mom knew Ethan was supposed to come meet her. She’d ordered a mountain of food at the restaurant, and it had been sitting on the table getting cold for ages. Still no sign of him. Truth is, Mom and I aren’t exactly close. She and Dad divorced when I was little. Mom didn’t want custody, Dad remarried, and I ended up with my grandma. Grandma passed away while I was in college. Dad had his new family, and me, the “outsider,” didn’t really fit in. Dad told me to go find Mom. Mom didn’t want me either and got into a huge fight with Dad about it. In the end, Mom reluctantly “took me in.” She travels constantly for work, so she couldn’t really take care of me. She just sends money regularly. Like more money makes up for anything. She never once acted like a real mother. Today was her birthday. I wanted Ethan to meet her, hoping maybe, just maybe, I could get her approval for once. I’d specifically told Ethan two days ago. “My mom’s birthday is the day after tomorrow. Think you could take the day off, come meet her?” Ethan had said, “Work’s crazy right now, big project. Not sure if I can get away.” “Okay, well, if you really can’t make it, just let me know.” The morning of her birthday, I texted him, Can you make it today? He replied, Yeah, I can. That’s why I told Mom he was coming. Half an hour ago, I texted him again, Where are you? When will you be here? No reply. “Mom, maybe something came up last minute at work? He might just be late. Let’s wait a little longer?” “Wait for what? It’s my birthday, and I’m supposed to wait around for some kid?” Mom was furious. She didn’t even touch her food, just paid the bill and stormed out, leaving me alone in the private dining room. I stared at my phone screen. Still no reply from him. Then I saw a notification dot on my social media feed. I clicked on it. It was a post from Sophia Wallace. She was a senior when I was a freshman. Ethan’s unforgettable ex-girlfriend. The caption read: Long time no see! So good to catch up. Underneath was a picture. And in that picture was a figure I knew instantly, painfully well. My boyfriend, Ethan, the one who wasn’t answering my texts. Back in college, everyone called Sophia and Ethan the golden couple. They looked perfect together. Everyone assumed they’d get married right after graduation. But then, Sophia moved abroad, and they broke up. I’d had a crush on him from the first time I saw him, but they were still together then, so I kept it to myself. After I heard they broke up, I pursued Ethan relentlessly. It took a long time, but I finally got him. Now Sophia was back, and he couldn’t wait to run off and see her. Suddenly, I didn’t seem very important anymore. So, it really was true. When the ex comes back, the current girlfriend always loses. All the hurt and frustration I’d been bottling up just burst out. After a good, long cry in the empty dining room, I started to calm down. I was done. I couldn’t keep chasing after Ethan anymore. I was just too tired. It was time to say goodbye to this dead-end relationship. I walked out of the restaurant and sent him a text. We’re done. 2 Leaving the restaurant, I just wandered down the street aimlessly, breathing in the feeling of being single again. God, I hadn’t felt this light and free in ages. Without really thinking, I ended up at the entrance to the amusement park. The amusement park. I’d always wanted to come here. When I was a kid, nobody ever took me. After I started dating Ethan, we came once. But he got called away for work almost as soon as we got inside. He left, and playing alone was zero fun, so I just went home. I bought a ticket and went inside. I went on a bunch of the craziest rides – roller coasters, anything that dropped you from a height. Looking for the next thrill, I saw the Ferris wheel. There’s that old legend about Ferris wheels: if you make a sincere wish when your car reaches the very top, your wish will come true. I bought a ticket and got into a car by myself. Staring out at the view as it climbed higher, a wave of emotions washed over me. I found myself wondering if things would have turned out better for me and Ethan if we’d actually ridden the Ferris wheel together that first time and made a wish. I caught myself thinking that and let out a bitter little laugh. Like a wish would have magically fixed everything. Our problems were way more complicated than that. The sadness came quickly, but it faded just as fast. By the time the car reached the highest point, I felt strangely calm. I closed my eyes and made a wish. “I wish I could let go of the past and start completely fresh.” Suddenly, there was a horrible grinding noise. The Ferris wheel lurched. Some of the cars actually flipped upside down. The sudden jolt sent us passengers hanging upside down, suspended high above the ground. I grabbed onto the safety bar for dear life. I glanced down. My stomach plummeted. It was so terrifyingly high. Did I have some kind of curse on me? How could I be this unlucky? And seriously? Right after I made my wish? I prayed the rescue crews would get here fast. Just as I was clinging on, waiting, the bar I was holding ripped loose from its fixture. In that instant, I knew. This was it. I wasn’t going to be saved. I just broke up with Ethan. I hadn’t even started my new life yet. How could I be dying now? As I fell, my last thought was: If I could do it all over again… Mom, Ethan… I wouldn’t want anything to do with either of them. I just want my own life. 3 “Hannah? Hannah, honey, wake up.” A worried voice pulled me out of the darkness. The voice sounded so familiar. I groggily opened my eyes. My vision was blurry, but everything around me felt strangely familiar. As my sight cleared, I saw my grandma leaning over me, her face tight with worry. Was I in heaven? How could I be seeing Grandma? I reached out and touched her cheek. It felt so real. “Grandma? Are you here to get me?” “Silly girl, what are you talking about? Take your medicine first, then you can sleep.” “Medicine? What medicine?” “For your fever, of course. Did the fever fry your brain, child?” “But… I died, didn’t I? Why do I need medicine?” “Don’t say such things! What’s all this talk about dying?” Grandma gave my shoulder a sharp pinch. “Ow! That hurts!” “See? You can still feel pain. Now stop talking nonsense.” It finally hit me. This wasn’t a dream. I was back. Back in the past. I tried to wrap my head around it. I couldn’t believe it. I was… reborn? I really thought that was the end. It seemed my wish actually came true. Still, I never thought something so cliché, so… out of a movie, would happen to me. It was almost funny enough to make me laugh, even in my confusion. And I did let out a small laugh. My reaction seemed to scare Grandma. “Hannah, what’s wrong? Don’t scare Grandma like this!” That familiar concern, something I hadn’t felt in so long… Tears started streaming down my face. I threw my arms around her and held on tight. “Grandma, I missed you so much.” Grandma, though confused about what was happening, hugged me back just as tightly. “I missed you too, sweetie.” She gently rubbed my back. “My goodness,” she sighed fondly, “such a big girl now, but still so clingy when you have a fever.” “Am not,” I mumbled into her shoulder. Looking at her now – her hair was mostly silver, but her face looked healthy, well-cared for. I remembered… before, there was a time when Grandma kept saying she didn’t feel well. I urged her to go to the doctor, get checked out. She always brushed it off. “Just old age, honey. Nothing to worry about.” She just didn’t want me to worry. Later, she died suddenly from a massive stroke. But now… I was back. I wouldn’t let that happen this time. “Grandma, let’s go get you a check-up soon, okay?” “Why? I feel fine. No need for doctors.” “Please, Grandma? Just for my peace of mind. If anything happened to you… what would I do? You’re all I have.” “Alright, alright, fine. I’ll go, happy now?” I knew she couldn’t resist when I laid it on thick. At the hospital, after Grandma went through a bunch of tests, the doctor said she was generally healthy, just needed to watch her diet and get more exercise. No major red flags. Back home, I wrote down all the doctor’s advice for her. Grandma was getting older and could be forgetful, so I stuck notes up in obvious places around the house. Back in my old room, I looked through my things. My mind drifted back. This must be when I was a freshman in college. I’d caught a nasty fever after stupidly taking a cold shower and had to come home from the dorm for a few days. And at this point… I hadn’t even met Ethan yet. I met him sophomore year. After Grandma died in the original timeline, I was a complete wreck for a long time. I had no energy. Besides dragging myself to class, I just stayed in my dorm room alone. I never told my roommates what happened back home; they probably just thought I was moody. Eventually, they got tired of seeing me waste away and literally dragged me to the dining hall after class one day. On the way there, one of my roommates mentioned the dining hall had supposedly hired a new cook, and the food was actually pretty good now. When I took a bite… I just broke down crying. The food… it tasted almost exactly like Grandma’s cooking. “Hannah! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” “Nothing,” I choked out, “It’s just… this food is surprisingly good.” “Phew, you scared me! I thought something awful happened. Well, if it’s good, eat up!” They all started piling food from their plates onto mine. I was so stuffed after that meal. Leaving the dining hall, I didn’t go back to the dorm with them. I made up some excuse and went to wander around the campus quad by myself. I found a quiet, deserted corner and just sat down, hugged my knees, and sobbed my heart out. I don’t know how long I cried. Eventually, the tears just stopped. “Need a tissue?” That voice. It was Ethan. That’s when he handed me the tissue. And that’s when I fell for him. Instantly. That moment led to everything else. But now… Hannah Davis is back. And that means everything can start over. 4 Before, I turned down a chance to study abroad because of him. This time, I wasn’t giving up something I really wanted for Ethan Miller. Grandma seemed stable for now, so I could focus on my own stuff without constant worry. As for Mom… as long as Grandma was okay, she probably wouldn’t contact me anyway. After all this time, stepping back onto that familiar campus felt strange and wonderful. Everything looked the same. It felt so good to be back. Returning to the dorm, seeing my friends again… I just grabbed each of them in a huge, long-overdue hug. After college graduation, we all scattered. We kept in touch frequently at first, but then… life happened, and the calls and texts dwindled. It always made me sad how close friends could just slowly become strangers. But now it was different. I had a second chance. “Guys! It feels like forever! I missed you all so much!” Chloe tilted her head. “Hannah, are you sure you’re over that fever? We literally saw you two days ago.” “Absence makes the heart grow fonder!” I grinned. “Ew, Hannah, since when are you so cheesy?” I just laughed. Maybe facing death makes you appreciate everything a little more. “Okay, lunchtime? I’m starving.” “What do you want? I can order us something,” Maya offered. “No delivery! Let’s go to the dining hall.” “The dining hall? We haven’t eaten there in ages. Why the sudden urge?” “Exactly! Since it’s been so long, let’s check it out. What if it actually got better?” Honestly, I was just craving that specific food again. It took promising to clean the entire dorm room for a week to get them to agree to go with me. And wouldn’t you know it, right at the entrance to the dining hall, I ran into the last person I wanted to see. Ethan Miller. I remembered… after that first tissue incident in the original timeline, I didn’t really see him around much. I wanted to find out who he was, but I didn’t even know his name. So, I started wandering campus more, hoping to bump into him again. And strangely enough, I did start seeing him everywhere. Back then, I thought it was fate. Destiny! Why else would I keep running into him? Except for the period when I knew he was dating Sophia – then I pretty much hid in my room unless I had class. All those later encounters… I orchestrated them. I deliberately put myself in his path, trying to get noticed, trying to win him over. So why now? When I actively didn’t want to see him, was he suddenly right here? I looked at him, and somehow, my eyes met his. Right now, in this timeline, this should be the first time he’s ever really seen me. He shouldn’t know who I am. So why did his eyes hold such a complicated expression? I quickly looked away, trying my best to ignore him, laughing and talking with my roommates. As we walked past him, I couldn’t resist glancing back over my shoulder. “Hannah, what are you looking at?” Chloe asked, following my gaze. “Oh, uh, nothing.” I snapped my head back around. Chloe gasped dramatically. “Whoa! Campus royalty in the same frame! Ethan Miller and Sophia Wallace! God, they look good together.” I turned again, watching Ethan standing there with Sophia beside him. Ethan wasn’t just smart; he was seriously good-looking. The kind of guy everyone crushes on. And his romance with the most popular girl on campus was legendary. To everyone else, them standing together was a picture-perfect moment. To me, it felt like acid in my eyes. “Come on, stop staring. Let’s eat,” Chloe nudged me. She sighed dramatically, “Okay, fine.” While we were eating, I couldn’t help but ask. “You guys know all about… them, right?” “Who, Hannah?” Maya asked around a bite of food. “You know… the king and queen of campus.” “You don’t know?” Chloe looked surprised. Back then, I honestly didn’t. I was so focused on my studies. I only found out about their history when I started trying to get Ethan’s attention. “Not really the details.” “Seriously? Everyone knows Ethan – Mr. Cool and Aloof – was actually the one who chased her. When they were freshmen, people saw him waiting for her after class all the time, bringing her coffee, the whole deal.” Even though I knew their story, hearing it again still twisted something painful inside me. When Ethan and I were together, I was always the one making the effort. I was never his first choice. If Sophia hadn’t come back, I might have gone on thinking his work was the only thing competing for his attention. But that was all in the past. I wouldn’t let it bother me anymore. My brow furrowed. Wait a second. It had only been a week since I got back to campus. How was I running into Ethan Miller all the time? At least three times a day. This was getting ridiculous. A few days later, I got a text from my cousin, Alex. Hannah! Been a while. Grab some food soon? Sure! I texted back. Cool. Usual spot? Our “usual spot” was a popular diner just off campus. During the meal, Alex was acting super weird, all fidgety and hesitant. Not his usual loud, straightforward self at all. “Alex, spit it out. What’s wrong? You can tell me anything, you know that.” “Uh, is it that obvious?” “Dude, seriously?” He finally confessed he had a huge crush on my roommate, Chloe, and wanted me to help him out, maybe put in a good word. “When did you develop a crush on Chloe?” “Remember last month when you brought your roommates to eat with me? It was love at first sight.” “Then why didn’t you say anything back then?” “I was too chicken.” “So what makes you brave enough now?” “Because if I don’t make a move soon, someone else is gonna snatch her up!” I blinked, confused. “Snatch her up? What are you talking about? Chloe doesn’t have a boyfriend.” “Are you sure? I swear I’ve seen this guy hanging around her the past couple of days. They look pretty close.” “Oh, that guy? That’s her younger brother.” “Her brother? Really? I totally thought he was trying to ask her out!” I laughed. “So, according to you, any guy near a girl is her boyfriend, and any girl near a guy is his girlfriend?” Alex didn’t say anything, which was basically a yes. “Look, maybe just… ask her? Before you jump to conclusions.” “Yeah, yeah, I know. So, Hannah… are you gonna help me or not?” “Of course, I’ll help! This is my cousin’s future happiness we’re talking about!” He blushed a little at my teasing. It wasn’t just because he was my cousin; I actually knew Chloe kinda liked him too. “Okay, okay, thanks, Hannah! If this works out with Chloe, I owe you big time. Fancy dinner, anywhere you want.” “You bet! I’m picking the most expensive place.” “Deal.” Alex slung an arm around my shoulder, leaning in to ask me about Chloe’s favorite things, what she liked, what she didn’t. I answered all his questions. Suddenly, I felt a prickling sensation on the back of my neck. Like someone was staring holes into me.

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I was barely on the Hollywood radar, what you might call a Z-list actress. Just trying to make ends meet. Then one night, everything went sideways. Someone drugged me, forced me into… well, let’s just call it a highly compromising situation that was filmed. A nightmare performance I never agreed to. At first, I figured it was some sleazy industry bottom-feeder, maybe someone from a casting couch scenario gone horribly wrong. I never, ever suspected the person responsible was sleeping right next to me. 1. These last few days have been a blur. A thick fog of shame and fear. I can’t bring myself to turn on the TV, terrified of what I might see. My phone? It stays off. Buried in a drawer. Because I’m being absolutely dragged online. Torn apart. Why? That video. The one from that night. Someone leaked it, and now it’s everywhere. The comments… God, the comments are brutal. Non-stop hate. “Look at her, practically naked. Zero self-respect.” “Bet she’s even dirtier behind closed doors.” “Someone this shameless should just disappear.” … Reading that stuff makes my head spin. It’s like a swarm of angry bees in my skull. Truth is, I was nobody famous. No real credits, no following. Just another struggling actress in LA. Honestly? I was already thinking about quitting the whole damn scene. Throwing in the towel. But who prepares for something like this? Getting drugged, violated… That night, I had a networking thing for work. An industry mixer. Got home late. The second I opened my apartment door, I felt someone behind me. Before I could even turn, a thick arm clamped around my neck. Then a cloth over my mouth and nose – smelled chemical, sharp. Darkness. When I came to, I was… somewhere else. On some kind of stage, bright lights blinding me. I tried to move, but my body felt like lead. Stiff, unresponsive. Next thing I know, some strange guy walks up. Doesn’t say a word. Just rips my clothes off. Shoves me into this incredibly revealing outfit. Trashy, humiliating. My mouth opened, I tried to scream, to fight back, anything. But nothing came out. Not a whisper. My limbs wouldn’t obey. I had zero strength. All I could do was lie there while he… adjusted me. Posed me. Like a doll. Panic and shame washed over me in waves. My stomach churned. A high-pitched ringing started in my ears, getting louder and louder. Then I heard clapping, cheering… like an audience. The sound was deafening, a tidal wave of noise. And then, mercifully, I passed out again. 2 The sick irony? I was completely out of it for the entire “performance.” No awareness, no control. Just a puppet. When I finally regained some semblance of consciousness, I found myself wrapped in the arms of my husband, Ryan. My clothes were disheveled, torn. From where I lay, I could see the veins pulsing in his temple. His lips were pale, trembling. He looked down at me, eyes bloodshot, his voice hoarse. “Chloe? Oh my god, Chloe, are you okay? What happened? I’m so sorry… I should have been there. I should have protected you.” At that moment, his words barely registered. My mind was a blank slate of shock and trauma. All I could do was grip his arm, tight. Like a lifeline. Over and over, I just kept repeating, “Home. Take me home. Now.” The second we got back to our apartment, I made him drive me straight to the ER. For the next week, I was practically living at clinics. Got every test imaginable. Again and again. Like a crazy person. Blood work, scans, exams… everything. Finally, the doctor gave me the all-clear. Physically, aside from the drugs in my system initially, I was okay. No lasting injuries. A tiny sliver of relief cut through the fog. But just as I started to breathe again, thinking maybe, just maybe, I could put this behind me… it happened. Someone uploaded the video. Splashed it all over social media. TikTok, Instagram, gossip sites… everywhere. The internet exploded. “SHOCK VIDEO: Missing Actress Chloe Surfaces in Explicit Underground Performance!” “OMG GUYS, Hollywood Actress Caught in Scandalous Vid!” “Disgusting. Cancel her. She should be ashamed.” Suddenly, I was trending. Hashtags with my name, endless commentary videos, think pieces. It was a digital firestorm. People were even doing livestreams demanding investigations, calling me a “disgrace,” telling me to get out of the industry. Looking at the flood of hate, the judgment… it felt so damn unfair. I’d spent years trying to build a career, carefully, ethically. Playing by the rules. And overnight, I went from being invisible to being infamous. A pariah. My reputation, shredded. 3 At first, when the comments got really vicious, I tried to fight back. Tried to explain. I wanted to scream, “I WAS DRUGGED! IT WASN’T MY CHOICE!” But I quickly realized it was useless. Arguing with online trolls, with people just jumping on the hate train for clicks? Pointless. Like shouting into a hurricane. The only way to shut them up, to clear my name, was to find the person who drugged me. The real culprit. If I could expose them, prove what happened, maybe the online mob would back off. It sounded like a solid plan. Reality? Not so much. Ryan spent a whole week supposedly “investigating.” Checking security footage, talking to people… Or so he said. Then he came back with nothing. Zero leads. Said the attacker vanished without a trace. Like a ghost. Meanwhile, the online abuse just got worse. Louder. More intense. In just one week, my name hit the trending topics list over twenty times across different platforms. Things started to feel genuinely unsafe. One time, a particularly nasty troll actually followed me home. Found my apartment building. After that? I was terrified to even go out for groceries alone. Another week of living like that – scared, paranoid, barely sleeping – and I felt like I was losing my mind. My mental state was fraying. I couldn’t just sit around anymore. I told Ryan, “I have to do something myself. I need to find who did this to me. Make them pay.” But Ryan… he just tried to calm me down. In a way that felt… off. “Chloe, maybe just… lay low for a bit longer? It’s not safe for you out there right now. And finding this person… it takes time. It’s not gonna happen overnight.” His words hit me like a slap in the face. “Lay low? Just – endure it? Easy for you to say, you’re not the one getting death threats every five minutes! Are you even trying to find them? Or do you just… not want to?” He stammered, caught off guard. Took him a second to respond. “Of course, I want to find them! Don’t be ridiculous. Just… trust me. Leave it to me, okay? I’ll handle it.” I mumbled a “yeah, okay,” trying to keep my face neutral. But inside? Alarm bells were ringing. Loudly. His reaction… it didn’t feel like someone genuinely trying to help. It felt like deflection. I was suddenly sure. He was hiding something. 4 Once that seed of doubt was planted, it grew fast. I started watching Ryan. Closely. Acting like everything was normal on the surface, but secretly observing his every move. It took about four days, but then I started noticing things. Real things. First, he was coming home later and later. Every night, he’d stumble in looking utterly exhausted. Wouldn’t even shower – just collapse onto the bed, fully clothed, and pass out. This was weird. Ryan always showered before bed, no matter how tired he was. It was practically a ritual. I tried asking him, casually, “Hey, what have you been up to? You seem wiped out.” He just gave me this annoyed look. “You keep pushing me to find this guy, right? Well, tracking leads takes time. It’s exhausting work.” Then he grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom, leaving me standing there feeling… wrong-footed. Find the attacker? Right. If this were a week ago, maybe I’d believe him. But after his weirdness? His story felt paper-thin. The second anomaly: his phone. He was glued to it whenever he was home. Just staring at the screen, fingers flying across the keyboard. And sometimes… sometimes I’d catch this little smirk playing on his lips. A strange, almost smug look. Once, I pretended to need something near him and casually glanced towards his screen. He flinched like he’d been shocked, snapping the phone shut instantly. I kept my voice light. “Whatcha lookin’ at?” He turned, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, uh, nothing. Just got a message from that informant I told you about. Says he might have a lead on the guy. We’re meeting up tomorrow.” I nodded, playing along, even managing a supportive tone. “Wow, that’s great news! Thanks for working so hard on this, honey. You’re the best.” He gave another awkward laugh. “Hey, anything for you, right? That’s what marriage is about.” After that? My suspicion shifted into high gear. It felt less like suspicion, more like dread. Then came the clincher. One morning, as he rushed out the door, he left something on the dining table. A beautifully wrapped, small, square box. At first, I was just curious. Maybe a late birthday gift from a friend? Or maybe… maybe he actually was planning an early anniversary surprise? Carefully, I unwrapped it. Inside was a Rolex. A brand new, blindingly expensive Rolex watch. My jaw dropped. I just stared at it, a loud buzzing filling my ears. 5 Look, Ryan and I weren’t broke, but we were definitely not “casually drop thousands on a Rolex” wealthy. We had decent savings, mid-level income, but nothing extravagant. And I knew Ryan. We’d been married for years. The man was… frugal. Okay, he was cheap. Borderline pathologically cheap. When we got engaged, he’d hemmed and hawed over a modest diamond ring, finally saying, “Chloe, honey, maybe this style isn’t us. It’s just a ring, right? Let’s get something simple for now, and I promise, when we have more money, I’ll upgrade you.” My family and friends teased me about that “starter ring” for months. After we got married? He tightened the purse strings even more. Designer clothes? Forget it. Fancy watches? Never. He even convinced me to stop going out for birthday and anniversary dinners, insisting home-cooked meals were “more meaningful” (and cheaper). Plus, my acting work had dried up significantly over the last couple of years. Our household income had basically been cut in half. So, where the hell did he get the money for a Rolex? And why would he, of all people, suddenly splurge like this? Unless… the money wasn’t exactly his to begin with. I fought the urge to call him right then and there. Demanding answers. Instead, I waited. All day. Until he came home that evening. I slipped the Rolex onto my own wrist. It felt heavy, alien. During dinner, when I got up to ladle soup into his bowl, I “accidentally” let my sleeve ride up, making sure the watch was clearly visible. Glinting under the dining room light. I watched his face. His eyes flickered down to my wrist. He froze for a split second. I saw a tiny muscle twitch near his mouth. I placed the bowl of soup in front of him, then deliberately held up my wrist, admiring the watch. I looked at him, my expression radiating mock adoration. “Ryan, thank you so much! This is… wow. It’s beautiful. So expensive! You know,” I added, my voice dripping with false sweetness, “I think this is the nicest gift you’ve ever bought me in all our years together.” He seemed to miss the sarcasm. Or pretended to. He forced a laugh, playing along. “Well, you know… our anniversary is coming up soon! Just wanted to get you something special. Glad you like it!” My insides curdled. Anniversary? Our anniversary was still over two months away! He really thought I was that stupid? That oblivious? But I just smiled. Watched him squirm internally. Without solid proof, calling him out directly felt pointless. His lies were just… pathetic. Later that night, after dinner, I was lying in bed, scrolling through my phone. It was late, almost midnight. Suddenly, a sharp, agonizing pain shot through my stomach. It doubled me over. I instinctively called out his name, “Ryan!” Then I remembered. He wasn’t home. Like most nights recently, he was “out following leads.” I glanced in the mirror on the closet door. My face was pale, lips white with pain. A wave of loneliness and despair washed over me, sharp and bitter. But the physical pain quickly drowned it out. Shaking, I fumbled in the nightstand drawer for some painkillers. Dragged myself to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and choked them down. But instead of helping, the pills seemed to make it worse. The pain intensified, twisting my insides. My whole body started trembling uncontrollably. My vision blurred, darkened at the edges. Then, everything went black.

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Right before I died, my adopted daughter finally showed her true colors. She wasn’t an orphan. She was the biological daughter of my housekeeper and my driver. She pinched my oxygen tube shut, staring down at me with pure disgust. “What’s a lonely old woman like you, with no kids, need all this money for?” “Just hurry up and die already! The money comes to us, and we can finally live the good life!” With all those memories intact, I was reborn. This time, you can tear each other apart. 1. In the private hospital room, my adopted daughter, Ava, glared impatiently at me before complaining to my housekeeper. “Mom, didn’t you tell Dad to arrange for that truck driver to hit her? How is she still alive?” Brenda, my housekeeper, didn’t look too pleased either as she peeled an apple for Ava. “Who knows how she’s so damn tough? Yesterday the doctor said her chances were slim.” “Your Dad’s asking the doctor now what we need to watch out for. Then we just do the opposite.” As they were talking, a man pushed the door open – it was Mike, my driver. Seeing Mike walk in, Ava and Brenda both stood up. One called him “Dad,” the other “Honey.” Lying in the hospital bed, tubes sticking out of me everywhere, I struggled to open my eyes, staring in disbelief at the scene unfolding. What… what was happening? That car crash… wasn’t an accident? And… why was the orphan girl I adopted calling my driver and housekeeper Mom and Dad? Why were my driver and housekeeper, who always claimed to be single, actually married? My sluggish brain couldn’t process it all before Mike walked over to my bedside, looking at the monitors. “Doctor says she’s stable for now, but still critical. We gotta be careful.” “When watching her, pay close attention to keeping her calm, breathing steady, heart rate normal.” He’d barely finished speaking when Ava stepped closer, grabbing my oxygen tube and glaring at me. “Old woman, I was never grateful to you. Taking me in, spending money on me – you owed me that!” Brenda sidled up next to her, putting an arm around Ava intimately, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Oh, kids say the darnedest things, don’t mind her. But really, the three of us, we all have you to thank.” “If it wasn’t for you, our own flesh and blood wouldn’t have grown up so pretty and classy.” The three of us, our own flesh and blood… So, everything they were saying now was true. This was all their plan? All this time I thought Ava was an orphan, adopting her… I was just raising their kid for them! But… even if they were a family, why did they want me dead? “Why… why… why hurt me?” Fighting against the searing pain ripping through my body from the crash, I croaked out the words, my voice hoarse. Hearing me, Ava looked at me with utter disgust. “What’s a lonely old woman like you, with no kids, need all this money for?” “Just hurry up and die already! The money comes to us, and we can finally live the good life!” They’d leeched off me after I took her in, and it still wasn’t enough! What they wanted was to kill me, to grab my entire fortune! Ungrateful snakes! Backstabbers! My heart hammered against my ribs like it wanted to break free, fury boiling up inside me. Ignoring the pain wracking my body, I tried to fight back, to scream for help. But Ava saw what I was trying to do. Before I could make a sound, she squeezed harder. The oxygen tube was completely blocked. A crushing feeling of suffocation washed over me. I struggled, trying to rip the mask off, but Brenda pinned my arms down. “What are you fighting for? You’ve had your fancy life for decades. It’s our family’s turn now.” “You’ve got no one, nothing to tie you down. Just die already, stop struggling!” My arms were held fast. The struggling tore at my wounds. The air in my lungs thinned, disappearing bit by bit. Endless pain and despair enveloped me. My vision started to blacken around the edges. I knew I was dying, but I forced my eyes open as wide as I could. I had to memorize these three faces. Even as a ghost, I wouldn’t let them get away with this! 2 My consciousness sank into endless darkness. I don’t know how long passed before, suddenly, everything jolted. A man’s loud, angry voice filled my ears. “Whose kid is this? Squatting in the middle of the road like that? I almost hit her!” Opening my eyes, I found myself sitting in the back seat of the car. Mike was in the driver’s seat. He had his head stuck out the window, yelling at a young-looking girl in front of the car. This scene… it felt so familiar… I’d lived through this before! The first time I met Ava, she was pretending to have a stomach ache, crouched right in the middle of the street. Mike had been driving me home from work. If he hadn’t slammed on the brakes, he would have hit her. Now, it was happening again! Looking at my own younger face reflected in the car window, feeling the realness of my hands and feet, a jolt went through me. I really was reborn. And I’d come back to the exact moment right before I was supposed to adopt Ava! Snapping back to reality, Mike had already gotten out of the car. He was pulling a timid-looking Ava over to the side of the car. “Boss, this kid just popped up out of nowhere, lying in the road.” “Looks like she might not be feeling well. What should we do?” I stared with disgust at the father and daughter in front of me, feeling sick to my stomach. “Is this your first day driving for me? You don’t know what to do?” My sudden sharp tone made both of them flinch, too scared to look me in the eye. Mike looked down at Ava, his hand awkwardly hovering, not sure whether to let go or hold on. I turned my head away, trying to control my rapid breathing, the images from my deathbed flashing before my eyes. I’m back! I have a chance! I can get revenge! I’m going to destroy them! But… how could I make them suffer enough to satisfy this burning hatred? As I thought, the flashing images stopped, freezing on one specific scene: the three of them standing together by my hospital bed, looking like a happy, harmonious family. An idea sparked, and I grabbed onto it. Turning back, I looked at the two outside the car. “Just a young girl, it’s not safe for her to be out here alone at night. Bring her back with us for now.” Mike, who had been looking down, glanced up at me, a flicker of joy crossing his face before disappearing. I saw it all. Joy? I’ll wipe that smile right off your face. 3 At the dinner table, Ava recited the exact same lines as she had in my past life while eating. She was fourteen, an orphan, ran away from the orphanage because she was bullied. My eyes swept over Mike, the driver, and Brenda, the housekeeper, who were lingering, clearly not wanting to leave. I spoke slowly. “How pitiful. Losing your parents so young, left all alone in the world.” As soon as I said it, Ava stopped eating, looking lost. She instinctively turned to look at Mike and Brenda. But their sharp glances stopped her, and she forced herself to turn back around. Pretending not to notice, I continued. “Losing your parents and becoming an orphan is sad, sure. But it’s even worse if they’re alive and just didn’t want you. Now that’s messed up!” “Some parents have no heart. If they don’t like girls, they just dump them. Absolutely shameless!” I paused, a slight smile on my lips, and pressed Ava. “Think hard now. Which kind of orphan are you?” Having been stopped once, Ava didn’t dare turn her head again. Pressured by my question and not knowing how to answer, she lowered her head, avoiding my gaze. Beside her, Brenda tried to step in and help Ava out. “Ma’am, she’s just a kid. Asking her these things… it’s not right!” I let out a short, sharp laugh, then slammed my hand on the table and stood up. “I’m talking to her. When did a housekeeper get the right to interrupt me? Get out!” Brenda’s face instantly turned pale. She quickly lowered her head, mumbled an apology, and backed out of the room. Without even glancing at Brenda, my eyes landed back on Ava. “You’re an orphan, and I don’t have any children of my own. Would you like to stay and be my daughter?” This was exactly what her family wanted. With me offering it outright, of course Ava wouldn’t refuse. Ava nodded eagerly. Nearby, Mike gave Ava a thumbs-up in approval. A smirk played on my lips as I dredged up the twisted ideas I needed to plant in Ava’s head. “Alright, since you’re going to be my daughter, the first lesson I’ll teach you is about knowing your place! There’s a hierarchy.” “We have a housekeeper, a driver, a gardener in this house. You remember this: your status is always above theirs!” This old-fashioned, almost feudal idea was a bit much for Ava to grasp immediately. She looked at me, confused. “When we were talking, that housekeeper interrupted, cut me off. That was wrong. She deserved to be scolded!” “Our position, our status, is higher than the help. They can never interrupt or cut in. Got it?” Although still bewildered, under the force of my presence, Ava finally nodded.

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She was always so sweet. But only when Dad was around. The second he left for work, she’d make me get on my knees and bark like a dog. I wouldn’t get to eat until she decided I’d done it well enough, and even then, it was just their leftovers. Her slimeball son, Kevin, would just stand there, clapping and yelling, “Yeah! Go, doggy, go!” like it was the funniest show on earth. But Dad never believed she was anything but kind. She was so ‘petite and pitiful’ in his eyes. And this ‘petite and pitiful’ woman actually wanted to be my mom. My name is Sarah Miller, I’m 16, and I just started high school. I used to dream about high school, imagining all the fun and freedom. But so far, it hasn’t brought me any joy. I’ve felt lonely for a long time, especially after Mom passed away. Dad travels a lot for work, so he’s barely home. “Sarah, aren’t you leaving yet? You’re going to be late!” Linda hurried me along. She’s the housekeeper Dad hired to look after me. “I know,” I mumbled, dragging myself out the door. She only ever spoke to me that nicely when Dad was actually home to hear it. Walking into school felt like stepping onto an alien planet. Strange faces everywhere. I felt like a total outsider, watching everyone else laugh and joke around, feeling completely invisible. “Hey, I’m Kevin. You’re the new girl, right? Heard your family’s loaded,” a boy said, popping my lonely bubble. He was Linda’s son. “Hi, I’m Sarah,” I managed a small smile. “So, Sarah, heard you guys are rich?” Kevin’s friendly tone vanished instantly, replaced by a nasty, jealous edge. “Does that matter?” I asked, confused. “Nah, just figured rich kids are different,” he sneered. Later, during passing period, I overheard a girl whispering to her friend, “Did you hear about Sarah Miller? Kevin said she acts all high and mighty, thinks she’s better than everyone ’cause her dad has money or something.” “Really? I thought she seemed okay,” the other girl replied. Comments like that just made me feel even more out of place in this new school. And things were only going to get worse… 2 When I got home that day, the air felt different, heavy with something unfamiliar. “Sarah, I want you to properly meet Kevin, Linda’s son,” Dad said, giving me an awkward smile. Linda stood beside him, beaming. “Hey, Sarah. Guess we’re family now,” Kevin chuckled, looking way too pleased with himself. Family? What was he talking about? “Maybe you should start calling Linda ‘Mom’,” Dad suggested suddenly. “Why? I already have a mom,” I blurted out, reeling from the shock. What was Dad thinking? Mom hasn’t even been gone that long. That night, as soon as Dad left for a work dinner, I heard my bedroom door creak open. It was Linda. “Why is your room such a pigsty? Didn’t your mother teach you how to clean up after yourself before she died?” Her face twisted into a snarl, like a hyena defending its food. “Who said you could come in here? My room isn’t messy! And don’t you dare talk about my mom!” I shot up from my chair, yelling. Hearing me shout, Linda stalked towards me, her expression getting uglier by the second. Slap! Her hand cracked across my face, hard. Pain exploded on my cheek. Shock and fear washed over me, and I choked back tears, clutching my face. “Remember this,” she hissed, leaning in close. “From now on, I’m the one in charge of this house!” I couldn’t hold back anymore. Sobs ripped through me. Slap! Slap! Two more times, just as hard as the first. “You be a good little girl and listen,” she spat, “or I’ll skin you alive, you worthless brat!” She threw the words at me like stones, then stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The next day, I noticed some of my personal things were missing from my room – some jewelry Mom gave me, a picture frame. Panic tightened my chest. I suspected Kevin took them. When I saw him later, I tried to ask, “Did you see the stuff on my desk?” The memory of last night made my voice shrink. “Some things are gone.” “Why would I want your junk, ‘sis’?” He looked me up and down, a nasty grin spreading across his face. That evening, I was on the phone with a friend. “…if she hears me, she’ll kill me… I’m so scared…” “Sarah, calm down,” my friend whispered back. “Just be careful when your dad’s not there. Maybe just try to stay out of her way? Look, my mom’s calling me, gotta go.” She hung up. Suddenly, I felt a chill. I turned around slowly. Linda was standing in my doorway, her face dark and furious. “What were you just saying?” she asked, her voice dangerously low, a terrifying smile plastered on her face. “I… I wasn’t saying anything,” I stammered, trying to look calm, but my hands were shaking uncontrollably. “You watch yourself, you motherless little thing.” Linda shot me one last venomous glare and turned away. The sharp click-clack of her heels echoed down the hall, sounding like a countdown, urging me to just disappear from my own home. 3 Lying in bed that night, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hear Mom’s voice in my head: “Sarah, no matter what happens, always try to be a good person.” But reality was making it harder and harder to hold onto that. At school, kids avoided me like I had the plague. Whispers followed me everywhere: “Didn’t you hear? Kevin said Sarah Miller’s mom died and nobody taught her basic hygiene. She stinks, like she never showers or changes her socks.” Just then, Kevin walked over, a smug look on his face. “Hey, Sarah. How’s life treating you lately?” “Why are you doing this?” I trembled, fear and anger warring inside me. “What? I’m your big brother now, Sarah-bear. Just looking out for my little sister, anything wrong with that?” he replied, practically strutting. After school, I walked home with a heavy heart. As soon as I opened the door, I heard Linda’s voice, dripping with false concern, talking to Dad. “… she’s been bullying poor Kevin! Honestly, that child is so ungrateful.” “Why don’t you ask your precious son what he’s been doing? Let’s hear his side and see who’s telling the truth!” I finally exploded, emboldened by Dad’s presence. “Sarah, what is wrong with you?” Dad interrupted, his voice sharp with anger. “Linda has been nothing but good to you, practically like a mother! How can you speak to her like that? Didn’t we raise you to have manners?” Behind Dad’s back, Linda turned her head slightly and gave me a sickeningly sweet, triumphant smile. In that moment, I felt completely alone. Utterly hopeless. Later that night, hiding by my window trying to wipe away tears without making a sound, I saw Linda downstairs in the yard. She was talking quietly with some man I didn’t recognize, their heads close together. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but something felt wrong. A tiny spark ignited inside me. Maybe… maybe the time to fight back was coming. The whole world felt like it was laughing at me, mocking me. But Mom’s words echoed again: Be strong. Keep going. I was starting to understand, though. When the world turns its back on you, sometimes fighting seems pointless. One person can’t take on everyone. People are complicated, dark, full of secrets. Linda was the perfect doting girlfriend and stepmom-to-be in front of Dad, but I knew the monster hiding underneath.

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I host a relationship advice stream. That night, I connected with a female caller. She said she’d fallen for someone, but he was married. It wasn’t until I clicked on her profile page, checking out her videos, that I realized the guy she was talking about looked disturbingly familiar. Wasn’t this mystery man my own picture-perfect, couldn’t-do-enough-for-me husband? 1 I’m a relationship advice streamer. Every night, I slap on a silly face filter and use a voice modulator to chat live with followers, helping them figure out their problems. Tonight’s caller was a regular, one of my long-time fans. But what she said blew up the chat and knocked me completely off balance. “I don’t believe in limiting myself. If I like someone, that’s all that matters.” “So, okay, I’m not technically the other woman yet, but I might be soon, and honestly? I don’t care. As long as I’m happy.” The chat immediately filled with question marks. People were seriously questioning her sanity. I couldn’t help but push back a little, pointing out that knowingly becoming the other woman hurts people. But instead of reflecting, she doubled down. “You can’t force feelings. It’s not like I’m demanding he marry me. Is it wrong to chase your own happiness?” What kind of twisted logic was this? “So, what if another woman came along and stole your husband? You’d be okay with that?” She paused for maybe two seconds before firing back, all self-righteous, “Yeah, as long as we split the assets fairly.” Of course. So, it really was about the guy’s money. Trying to sound romantic while being completely mercenary. She kept spewing her justifications in the stream, and meanwhile, the viewer count was skyrocketing. I quickly grabbed my phone and used my burner account to check out her profile. I had to see who this woman was. How could anyone be so shameless? Her profile pics showed her smiling sweetly, looking blissfully happy. The man next to her always had his back to the camera, never showing his face. The only identifying feature visible was on the back of his neck – four moles, forming a perfect little square. That pattern sparked a flicker of recognition, making my heart pound erratically. I scrolled through more of her posts. Always selfies of her, followed by shots of a man’s arm, his leg, other body parts. Never his face. Coincidentally, her IP address showed she was in the same city as me. After quickly hitting ‘follow’ from my burner account, I forced myself back to the stream, trying to pull myself together. The chat was a waterfall of comments. The woman was still talking nonstop, clearly pleased with herself, thinking she’d won me over with her “logic.” I looked at her profile picture and let out a cold, genuine laugh. “You know people are going to drag you for this. You know your morals are messed up. You’re blowing up a family and calling it love? Knowingly being the other woman? What kind of person are you?” Even then, she argued back, accusing me of using my platform to cyberbully her. I wasn’t having it. I laid into her with righteous anger, then decisively cut her connection. Virtual gifts flooded the screen. The chat was full of applause. I’ve been streaming for three or four years, and this was the first time I’d encountered someone so brazen about being the third party. After she was gone, I took a few more calls, but my heart wasn’t in it. All evening, I kept seeing flashes of them together, kept picturing those four damn moles. As soon as I could reasonably end the stream, I logged into my burner account and messaged her. I pretended to be a fellow mistress, complaining about how nobody understood our situation, telling her I felt a connection, like we were kindred spirits. It only took a couple of hours for her to start trusting me. She even started spilling details about the guy’s family situation, his age, his job. Married three years, no kids, a dynamic where the wife was the main breadwinner… Every little clue seemed to point in one direction. The man she was talking about was my own doting, perfect husband. Mark. 2: The Confirmation After chatting for a bit, I told her I needed to sign off and get some rest. Not long after, Mark came home. He immediately started giving me a shoulder rub, sweet as ever, even running water for me to soak my feet. He always said I worked too hard, that this helped me relax. Honestly, the idea of him cheating seemed impossible. Two years ago, when my grandpa was hospitalized, Mark was a rockstar. He was there constantly, helping out so much that even the doctors commented on what a devoted grandson-in-law he was. Every holiday, every birthday, he’d be at my parents’ place days early, planning meals, bringing thoughtful gifts for them. We never even fought. How could he be cheating? I stared at him, lost in thought. Mark seemed to notice my gaze and offered a small smile. His hand, still damp, lightly tapped my nose. “Looks like my wife is exhausted. You’re totally zoned out.” He sat beside me, pulling me into a hug. He reminded me our anniversary was the day after tomorrow, whispering he had a surprise planned. The next day, he took me to a high-end jewelry store bright and early. A salesperson approached us eagerly, a dazzling smile on her face. That face… It was the woman from my stream last night! Jessica! Her eyes flickered past me, landing on Mark beside me. I caught it out of the corner of my eye. Mark’s expression didn’t change, but the tiny muscle twitching under his eye gave him away. So, they definitely knew each other. Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I followed her into the main showroom. I kept my head down, pretending to browse the display cases, but I was watching them both like a hawk. They were chatting and laughing easily, completely ignoring me. I looked up. “Your name’s Jessica, right? You’ve been really helpful. Can I get your contact info? I’ll definitely come back to you next time I’m looking for jewelry.” She hesitated for a split second, then agreed. Later, I casually scrolled through her professional Instagram – clearly a work account. The latest post: Pushing for my sales target! Free stainless steel tumbler with purchase! Plus, you get me as your bonus. Attached was a cute, flirty selfie. So, Mark’s idea of an anniversary gift was actually just helping Jessica hit her sales quota! Fury turned into retail therapy. I pointed at several expensive pieces, racking up a hefty bill. Right there, in front of both of us, Mark had to play the big shot, emptying out his personal savings account to cover it. 3: The Alliance That night, I hopped back onto my burner account and messaged Jessica. She was practically gloating, bragging about how clueless his wife (me!) was, totally oblivious that she’d just helped Jessica hit her sales target. Called me an idiot. Playing the part of the envious fellow mistress, I asked what her next move was. Surely, she didn’t want to stay hidden forever? I fanned the flames: “I’m so jealous you actually get to see his wife! I keep pushing my guy to divorce her, but he just avoids the topic. I don’t even know if I should keep waiting.” Sure enough, less than two minutes later, Jessica sent a barrage of voice messages. She urged me to fight for “true love,” not to be scared off by society’s judgment. Back and forth we went, becoming “besties” who shared everything. Our little “True Love Alliance.” And Jessica got bolder. She started posting pictures of herself with Mark on her work Instagram more often. Still careful never to show his face, though. I silently ‘liked’ every single one. 4: The Confrontation Today was our wedding anniversary. Mark had ordered a cake first thing in the morning, promising to cook me a special dinner when he got home from work. But by evening, he still wasn’t back. Then came the phone call. A sudden work emergency, he claimed. He had to work late, couldn’t make it home. He promised to make it up to me another day. I asked calmly, “Mark, are you absolutely sure you’re not coming home tonight?” I could hear frantic typing on his end. He was too “busy” to even really answer, just mumbled a few excuses and hung up quickly. My phone pinged with a notification. It was Jessica, messaging my burner account. Bragging. Saying her boyfriend ditched his boring wife to be with her, how incredibly romantic and sweet it all was. I knew how vile she was, but I played along, praising her boldness. Ever since that jewelry store incident, it was like Mark had gotten a taste of freedom and couldn’t get enough. He was becoming reckless. He came home less and less. Our arguments became more frequent. Jessica grew even more daring, sneakily snapping pictures of his back, posting them to her stories, then deleting them five minutes later. Completely disregarding me. Fine. If that’s how they wanted to play it, I’d just add fuel to the fire. I kept up the charade with Jessica on my burner account, feeding her fake updates about my own “affair.” I told her I’d confronted the wife, caused a huge scene, and that they were definitely getting divorced now. I filled my messages with fake joy about finally “making it official.” Predictably, Jessica couldn’t stand it. The next day, I was in the kitchen making lunch when I heard a sharp knock at the door. There she stood, flawlessly made-up, poured into a tight, dark gray dress that showed off every curve. Before I could react, she swept past me like she owned the place, plopped down on my sofa in her high heels. One shoe dangled precariously off her toes. “Hi. I’m Jessica. Mark’s partner. I believe we’ve met.” Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, a sneer playing on her lips. “Honestly, I don’t see what he ever saw in you. You’re nothing special.” “He doesn’t love you anymore. There’s no point in dragging this out. Just be smart, sign the divorce papers, and let yourselves move on with some dignity.” Seeing my silence, she grew bolder, launching into a speech about her deep, unbreakable bond with Mark. Anyone listening would think I was the homewrecker. “You’re just a housewife. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll hurry up and—” SMACK! I didn’t let her finish. I swung my hand with everything I had. My palm stung. A bright red handprint blossomed on her right cheek. Damn, that felt good. “You hit me!” Her eyes widened in fury, and she lunged at me, teeth bared. I’m taller, and her heels made her clumsy. I easily shoved her back onto the sofa and started letting her have it. Jessica shrieked that she was calling the cops. I stayed calm. “Go ahead. Call them. Let’s see who they arrest – me, or the woman breaking into someone’s home to harass them.” “If he really loved you, would he let you be the dirty little secret? You think you found true love, but you’re just a fling to him.” “A plaything. Something to use and throw away when he’s bored.” That hit a nerve. Jessica completely lost it. She swiped everything off the coffee table – ceramic vases shattered on the floor. I quickly pulled out my phone, recorded her meltdown, sent the video to our family group chat, and specifically tagged Mark. Less than twenty minutes later, he burst through the door, looking frantic. Jessica saw him like a lifeline, sobbing and throwing herself into his arms. I leaned against the wall, watching the drama unfold with a strange sense of detachment. Two whole years. Now, the mask was finally slipping. I was almost excited to see how he’d try to spin this. Mark shoved Jessica away. Sweat beaded on his forehead, darkening his shirt, even though the room wasn’t particularly warm. He scrambled over to me, hands raised in surrender, begging me to listen. “Chloe, it’s all a misunderstanding! There’s nothing going on between us, I swear!” Jessica screeched, “Didn’t you tell me you two had no feelings left?! That she’s just some online personality with a bit of money?! Look at her! How can she possibly compare to me?” “Jessica, shut up!” Mark yelled back. I stared at them, a dawning realization hitting me. So, in Mark’s world, our love had died long ago. It was true, my online career had taken off in the last couple of years. I’d even bought myself a new car. If Jessica hadn’t blurted it out today, I might never have known he was resentful, that he was after my money. Suddenly, the disgust washed over me. These two were repulsive. I started pushing them both towards the door. Suddenly, Jessica clutched her stomach, her eyes wide with alarm as she looked at me. The words she spoke next hit me like a physical blow. “Don’t touch me! I’m pregnant!”

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I’m a murderer. The kind the cops will never find. Because I can jump between places. Spaces. Create the perfect alibi, every single time. I killed one person after another. Right up until I killed the person I loved most. 1. I figured out I could do this back in middle school. It was a bright, sunny morning. I remember it clearly because I’d pulled an all-nighter doing homework the day before. I was totally groggy. Same routine as always. Ate breakfast, said bye to Mom, started walking to school. The little trees lining the street had new buds on their branches. I’d just reached the intersection when this huge semi-truck came barreling towards me, horn blasting. I just froze, completely stunned, only had time to throw my hands up in front of my face. There was this moment of silence, except it wasn’t that long, just filled with the screech of brakes. But the pain I was braced for never came. I slowly cracked my eyes open… and I was standing on the other side of the street. I looked back. There was a woman lying in the middle of the road. Looked like she’d just come from the farmer’s market, groceries scattered everywhere. She was… flattened. Brains splattered on the pavement. The truck driver scrambled out of his cab, saw the mess, and just bolted. Ran off like his life depended on it. A crowd started gathering, people shouting, a mess of noise. But nobody questioned how I got across the street. For a second, I thought maybe my memory was screwed up. Still reeling from the shock, all I could think was, Man, I wish I was home right now. Just thought it. And boom, the scene shifted. I was back in my house. I just stood there, stunned. But I knew, instantly. I tested it. Pictured the school cafeteria. Five seconds later, I opened my eyes, and I was standing right there. 2 After figuring out I could teleport, I didn’t tell a soul. I had no idea how people would react. Would they think I was awesome? Or crazy? Or maybe something to be dissected in a lab? Telling anyone felt way too risky. A risk I couldn’t afford to take. At first, the power was just convenient. Meant I could sleep in and never be late for school. Simple stuff. But that all changed when Madison showed up. Her arrival completely derailed my life. Madison was in my grade when I started high school. Her family had serious money. When we first met, she wasn’t exactly nice to me, but she wasn’t outright horrible either. Tolerable, I guess. Maybe it’s some twisted rich-kid thing, I don’t know, but she loved picking on this one girl in our class, Hannah. Hannah came from a poor family, always carried this faded, washed-out backpack. She was quiet, kind of withdrawn, didn’t really have any friends. Every time Madison passed Hannah’s desk, she’d say something nasty, like, “Ugh, what’s that smell?” Just humiliating stuff like that. At first, it was just words. But I guess that got boring for Madison, because it escalated. Turned into physical torment. Madison started spreading slut-shaming rumors about Hannah, started hitting her, kicking her. Hannah constantly had bruises and cuts, all over her face, her arms. Scumbags from outside school would corner her, leer at her with these disgusting looks, asking how much for a night. Her textbooks would vanish from her desk. Then she’d find dead mice in there, or just trash. Someone would scrawl “SLUT” on her desk. People treated her like a garbage can, tossing their trash at her. She’d come in with clean hair, and someone would stick gum in it. They’d say her face was dirty and shove her head in the toilet bowl “to wash it.” Telling a teacher was useless. Madison’s family was too influential. The teachers couldn’t afford to piss them off, so they just looked the other way. How do I know all this so clearly? Because later, I went through the exact same thing. It happened because Hannah killed herself. It was sophomore year, during evening English study hall. I was bored out of my mind, just spinning a black pen in my hand, half-asleep listening to the teacher drone on. Suddenly, I heard a desk scraping loud in the back of the room. Before I could even process what was happening, someone yelled— “Hannah killed herself! She jumped!” Yeah, her name was Hannah. A name full of hope for a peaceful, healthy life. Everything erupted into chaos. I looked back, stunned. Hannah’s seat was empty. The English teacher was yelling for everyone to be quiet, call 911. But I couldn’t hear anything clearly. Just one phrase cut through the noise, straight into my brain. “So much blood.” 3 Hannah didn’t make it. For her, I guess it was a release. Living was worse, right? Because of all the cuts and bruises on her body, marks that hadn’t healed, the police suspected she’d been abused before she died. A bunch of cops descended on our school to investigate. Everyone in our class was pulled into small rooms, one by one, for questioning. I thought Madison would be scared. But that morning, she actually showed me a video of Hannah being sexually assaulted, like she was bragging. Smiled while she told me, “I just wanted to film her, you know? Who knew she was so fragile she’d actually kill herself over it? Shame, really. Guess this is her final portrait now.” I knew Madison was cruel, but I hadn’t grasped the depths of it. Or how utterly brazen she was. She was like a demon crawled straight out of hell, filled with unspeakable evil. When they took me into the little room, the cop across from me flipped through his notes. “No need to be nervous,” he said. “Just tell us what you know. We’re just investigating the circumstances of Hannah’s death.” In that instant, for some reason, I thought of Hannah’s faded white backpack. I swear, I’ve regretted it countless times since. Why did I have to think of that backpack? Why did it stir that tiny flicker of pity in me? Why was I trying to be good in that moment? It was the stupidest I’ve ever been. Because I told them everything Madison had done. I thought I wouldn’t see Madison at school again. I thought the cops would take her in, especially with the video on her phone as solid proof. But I underestimated the power of money. The next morning, I’d just put my backpack down and sat in my chair when Madison appeared beside me. She leaned in close, whispering right in my ear, “You really disappointed me.” Yeah. You never know how much it hurts until the knife cuts you. It was like Madison couldn’t function without tormenting someone. Her target shifted from Hannah to me. My books started disappearing. Friends I thought were close suddenly kept their distance. Bugs started showing up in my lunch. Madison and her little clique cornered me in the girls’ bathroom. While they were ripping at my clothes, Madison pressed the lit end of a cigarette—one she’d smoked halfway down—onto my arm. Again and again. “You like playing hero, right?” she hissed, grinding it in. “Go on! Stand up and be the hero now!” I glared at her, pure hatred boiling inside me. And a terrifying thought surfaced. I actually can play the hero. I knew Madison’s crew liked to hang out at this specific bar on Saturday nights. I’d even been there once. It was shady, lots of illegal stuff going down, so a lot of the security cameras didn’t work or were conveniently “broken.” That Saturday, I asked my teacher if I could stay late at school to study. Maybe because she felt bad about what I’d been going through, she sighed and said yes. I sat in the empty classroom, my pen moving over math problems, but my mind was racing, plotting how to kill Madison without leaving a trace. I stayed there, staring blankly, until ten PM. Then I walked out of the classroom and went to the bathroom – the one spot on campus with no cameras. I put on a mask, gloves, plastic shoe covers. Over my clothes, I pulled on a disposable raincoat. I pictured Madison’s location, the bar bathroom. In an instant, I was there. Pure luck. Madison was inside, humming to herself while washing her hands at the sink. I appeared silently behind her. Grabbed her, clamped one hand tight over her mouth, muffling her scream. With the other hand, I pulled out the knife I’d prepared – one I’d stolen from her main lackey earlier – and plunged it into her chest. Again. And again. A part of me felt it wasn’t fair. I should have tortured her, made her beg for death. But I didn’t have much time. I just needed to make sure she was dead. Completely dead. I let go. Watched her crumple to the floor, her eyes wide, staring right at me. “Madison,” I whispered, “you were always too arrogant. Turns out, I can deliver justice.” Then I vanished. Left nothing behind but the knife clattering on the tile. The knife belonging to her follower. I didn’t go back to school immediately. I teleported north, to a deserted landfill on the edge of the city. I threw the raincoat, gloves, shoe covers, and mask into a pile of trash. Then I set it all on fire. Watched my past burn away with it.

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The elevator was over capacity, but the number of people just didn’t add up. And I kept catching this faint, metallic whiff… like blood. Unless… unless there was someone else in here. Someone I couldn’t see. 01 My name is Alex. I pulled a late one at work today, didn’t head home until 8:30 PM. Normally, the elevators are pretty dead around this time. But tonight, it was packed. The doors hadn’t even closed yet when the ding-ding-ding started up from the ceiling panel. I knew that sound – the overweight alarm. Instantly, we all just kind of looked at each other. Nobody wanted to be the one to step off. I glanced around at the other eight people. Everyone looked average size. Except for this one young woman clutching a leash, tucked in the corner, practically hugging her big dog close to her side. If I remembered right, she was the last one on. Ding-ding-ding— The noise wouldn’t stop. The vibe in the elevator got tense. Nobody actually said anything, but all eyes drifted towards the woman with the dog. I was just about to squeeze past the older guy in front of me to get off when I saw her step out, pulling her dog with her. Her hair was super dark and long, almost like it was dyed black. When she looked down, it hid most of her face. The second she was off, the dinging stopped. The elevator started going up again. It reached my floor pretty quick, and I hurried out. Fumbling for my keys, ready to unlock my door. Suddenly, something hit me. That elevator’s weight limit is for 11 people. Back then, counting me, there were only nine of us. Even throwing in the large dog, we should have been well under the limit. Unless… unless there was another “passenger” we couldn’t see. Couldn’t see… who would that be? The hairs on my neck stood up. I whipped my head around, glancing back towards the elevator lobby. It was quiet. Too quiet. Two thoughts started battling it out in my head. Go back or don’t go back? The hand holding my keys was trembling slightly. I thought about it. Might as well. Better safe than sorry, right? Maybe it was like in the movies. Maybe there was someone invisible in there. Or maybe… a body. I walked back to the elevators and waited for one to come down. A few minutes later, the doors slid open slowly. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I swear I smelled that weird, coppery scent again. Blood. Seriously? Could there actually be a body in here?! I stepped inside, looking all around. It looked totally normal. The only place someone could hide… would be on top of the elevator car itself. But how would anyone even get up there? That bloody smell seemed to come from everywhere at once. I couldn’t pinpoint where a body might be hidden. I thought about calling the cops, but then figured, why borrow trouble? Best not to get involved. I quickly stepped out of the elevator and headed home. Weirdly, I thought I heard a faint whisper behind me. Sounded like a woman’s voice. Couldn’t make out the words, but a chill ran straight down my spine. After that night, every time I got in an elevator, I couldn’t help but scan the whole thing. But the next day, the bloody smell in that specific elevator was gone. So, to this day, I don’t know if it was all in my head, or if the body had been moved. Until a week later, when two cops knocked on my door. My stomach clenched. I opened the door and asked what was up. One of them asked, “October 27th, between 5:00 PM and 8:30 PM, were you home?” I thought back. That was the day I’d called in sick and slept literally all day. The next day was when I worked late and had that weird elevator thing happen. The memory of that night in the elevator flashed back. I couldn’t help asking, “Did… did someone die?” The two cops exchanged a look, their faces getting even more serious. 02 I told the police everything that happened that night, exactly as I remembered it, and took them to the elevator in question. It looked the same as it always did. I hadn’t smelled that weird bloody scent again since that one time. The officers checked the elevator thoroughly. I wanted to help look around, maybe find some clue. But one of the cops shot me a look. “Mr. Evans, could you step out here with me for a moment, please?” I followed him out. He started jotting things down in a small notebook while asking, “You said you were working late at the office. Can anyone verify that?” “Yeah, definitely,” I said. “The security guard downstairs, old Mr. Henderson, he always leaves last. I said goodnight to him when I left.” Besides, even if he wasn’t there, there are security cameras by my workstation. The cop seemed suspicious of me. That made me even more curious because, judging by their reactions, it seemed like they had no idea there might have been a body in the elevator. And when I asked if someone died, they just gave me that look – they didn’t deny it. So, who died? And why were the police talking to me? I rent this place. Theoretically, nobody in this whole building, maybe even the whole complex, should know me. I keep to myself, don’t really hang out with anyone here. Were the cops really just doing routine questioning? “Okay, Mr. Evans. We’ll verify what you’ve told us. And we’ll look into the information you provided today as soon as possible. Have a good day.” I nodded, watching the elevator doors slide shut. A few hours after the police left, I found out why they’d come. Someone really had died. And technically speaking, the victim was connected to me, sort of. His name was Mark Zhou. He worked at the same company, but in a different department, so we rarely saw each other. But that night, the night of the elevator incident, Mark had disappeared. His phone’s last signal pinged at the company building. At that time, my apartment was the closest known location tied to anyone from the company, which is why the police suspected me. I had absolutely no idea Mark lived in the same apartment complex as me, with his parents. Just hours after the cops talked to me, Mark’s parents were downstairs asking around for Alex Evans. I happened to be taking out the trash. When they asked me, I forced myself to stay calm and said I didn’t know who that was. Because I saw Mark’s dad was holding a kitchen knife, his eyes bloodshot red. I was terrified if I admitted who I was, he’d come at me right then and there. After dumping the trash, I stayed outside the complex for a long time before coming back. By then, the police had arrived and were taking Mark’s parents away. Mark’s dad was really losing it, just like I thought. It took several cops to wrestle the knife away from him. I stood watching from a distance with other residents. That’s when I overheard some people whispering. “Can’t blame ’em. If my son died like that, so brutally, I’d hunt down the killer myself, consequences be damned.” “Tell me about it. Killing him and then leaving him in a place like that… how’d they even manage it?” I sidled closer and asked quietly, “How do you guys know all this?” The person who spoke looked surprised, maybe pleased to have drawn attention. The guy next to him chimed in, “Hey, you don’t live in Building 2? You didn’t see all the cops earlier?” I live in Building 2. I patted my chest, trying to act casual. “Oh, yeah, no, I was out when they showed up. Just got back.” As soon as those people left, my phone rang. It was one of the cops who’d been to my apartment earlier. The number looked familiar – I’d just called it back not long ago for something work-related, ironically. The officer on the line asked me to come down to the station. I knew this was coming. Because when the police questioned me earlier, I hadn’t told them the whole truth. I didn’t just know Mark Zhou. We used to be pretty good friends. Not long ago, I’d borrowed a large sum of money from him. And after he disappeared, I was the first one to really notice something was wrong. That’s why I’d been so paranoid lately. Because I suspected he hadn’t just disappeared. I suspected he’d been murdered. And his body was hidden somewhere in this building. I’d seen it all in my dreams. 03 When a colleague you were once close to suddenly vanishes, normally, you’d be worried, right? But the moment I heard Mark was missing, I felt this huge weight lift off my shoulders. Mark Zhou was gone. Which meant that huge chunk of money… I didn’t have to pay it back. Obviously, that was something to be happy about. But the relief didn’t last long. That thing happened. Not the elevator thing. The night before that. I had a dream. In the dream, I saw Mark, covered in blood, running towards me like a madman. He kept screaming for me to save him, but I was terrified. I turned and ran, scared he’d catch me. When I finally looked back, Mark was gone. A thick fog rolled in, swallowing everything. I got lost in it. But the dream wasn’t over. In the fog, I heard Mark screaming in pain. Over and over, I saw him burst out of the mist. But every single time, he never truly escaped. Because right behind him, always, there was a dark shadow. From far away, the shadow looked like a woman with long hair, dressed all in black. The dream ended with a terrifying series of dog barks, and then I jolted awake. Snapping back to the present, I repeated, “Yeah. In my dream, I saw the entire process of Mark being murdered.” Could something like that actually happen? At first, I didn’t believe it. But ever since that dream, weird things started happening around me constantly. Like the elevator incident. And like that woman with the long black hair, walking her dog. It felt like everything was trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t figure out what. The two officers sitting across from me exchanged glances. They clearly didn’t buy my story. They got up and left, leaving me alone in the small, dimly lit room. A few minutes later, Mark’s parents burst in. Before I could even register what was happening, a fist slammed into my face, knocking me to the floor. A dull ache exploded in my nose, and something warm and wet started pouring out. I clapped a hand to my face, looked down, and saw it was covered in blood. Then the cops rushed back in, pulling Mark’s furious father off me and helping me up. Mark’s dad screamed at me, “You heartless piece of trash! You’ll get what’s coming to you!” Before he could finish, the cops dragged him out the door. Maybe it was the sight of my own blood, but something snapped. I actually chased after them, yelling at Mark’s dad through the doorway: “Are you crazy?! What does your son’s death have to do with me?! Why are you doing this to me?!” Yes! I borrowed a lot of money I couldn’t pay back, but I would never kill someone over it! Never! “You!” Mark’s dad seemed choked with rage at my defiance. He paused, then roared, “Are you telling me you didn’t see him that day?!” That day? Which day? One of the officers clarified, “The day before Mark Zhou disappeared.” Ah, right. The day I had the dream. I shook my head. “No, I didn’t see him.” The officer continued, “We’ve already been to your company. You called in sick that day, but you didn’t go home. You were seen near the entrance to Shadow Creek Mountain wearing hiking gear.” “Around the same time, Mark Zhou received a call from an unknown number, then quickly requested leave and left the office.” “During that time, his father called him. Mark said he had urgent business. We tracked his phone until he entered the same surveillance blind spot near the base of Shadow Creek Mountain.” What the cop was saying felt… familiar. No, more than familiar. It felt like I’d lived it. Like I really had gone up the mountain, called Mark from a burner phone, lured him there. And then killed him. Cut him up. Carried the pieces away, and finally, dumped them on top of the elevator in my building. Just like the dream felt. Real. The officer’s voice pulled me back sharply. “He went there to meet you, didn’t he?” His voice was quiet, but I heard every word. “Because you were his only friend.”

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It wasn’t until after we got married that I found out my husband couldn’t have kids. And then he had the nerve to suggest I sleep with his dad to carry on the family line! It was so messed up, I cut him off completely and demanded a divorce. But that creep wouldn’t give up. He even started trashing me online, trying to bully me into giving in. I just scoffed. Fine, if that’s how you want to play it, let the internet judge your messed-up family drama! 1 I was at my desk, trying to catch up on work, when I realized I was being cyberbullied. I’d taken time off for the wedding and honeymoon, and now I was drowning in deadlines. “Hey, uh, Ashley? I think your husband posted something about you online.” I looked up. My coworker, Sarah, looked hesitant. She sent me a link. I clicked it, and there it was – a selectively edited audio clip. Just a few lines, but totally explosive. “Ashley, didn’t we talk about this before the wedding? We agreed we’d start trying for a baby right away. You were okay with it then, why change your mind now?” That was supposed to be him, sounding confused and innocent. Then me: “Are you kidding me, Mark? If you want a baby so bad, why don’t you make one? … Yeah, I changed my mind, so what? … Do you even deserve one?” My voice sounded harsh, dismissive. Mark, my husband, had cleverly edited it to make him look like the victim and me like the cold-hearted bitch. To top it off, he’d added a video. I pressed play. It showed our bedroom – his family’s house bedroom, technically. Mark looked awful – unshaven, teary-eyed. “Ashley, I’m so sorry. If you don’t want kids, we don’t have to have them, okay? Just come back. I’ll do anything. Even if I never have kids, it doesn’t matter. I can’t live without you. Please forgive me, I’ll never bring up kids again…” This curated audio, plus his Oscar-worthy performance, totally fooled anyone who didn’t know the real story. The comment section was blowing up. Thousands of replies already. “Wow, what is this woman’s problem?” “They agreed beforehand! Changing her mind now is basically saying she wants his family line to end. So selfish.” “Poor guy. She treats him like dirt, and he’s still head over heels. Guess I’m not cut out for that kind of ‘love’.” It was going exactly as Mark planned. The edited clip and video swayed everyone. The comments were almost entirely against me, attacking me. Some trolls even started insulting my parents, getting really personal. I read the comments, my blood running cold. See? They didn’t care about the truth. They just wanted to vent. The few comments defending me or suggesting there might be more to the story were quickly buried. Anyone who spoke up for me became a target too. “What’s there to question? Easy for you to judge when it’s not your family dying out. If you think something’s fishy, fine, hope you never have kids either, lol.” “She treats her new husband like crap? Probably slept around before. Can’t believe anyone’s defending her. Seriously messed up values. Blocked.” Things spiraled fast. My phone started exploding with calls from unknown numbers. Texts filled with disgusting insults flooded my inbox. Mark had posted my contact info in the comments. “I’m too scared to contact my wife anymore. Please, internet, help me talk some sense into her. Here’s her number. If she comes back, you’ll all be my saviors.” It went viral so quickly. Within an hour, it was the top story on the local news feed. Family and friends started messaging me, asking what was going on. Even though most of them didn’t believe I was that kind of person and figured there was something I wasn’t saying, the audio and video were right there, making them doubt. Sarah must have seen how upset I was. She pulled me into a hug. “Ashley, I know there’s more to it,” she whispered. “Whatever it is, if you need to talk, I’m here. We’ll figure it out together.” Seeing her genuine concern, all the stress and hurt I’d bottled up for a week just poured out. I hugged her back tightly. “Thanks, Sarah,” I mumbled through tears. The online attacks hadn’t made me cry, but my friend’s kindness broke the dam. 2 Sarah patiently helped me calm down, and I managed to give her a vague outline of what happened. Mark and I met in college. We got married right after graduation. He was Student Government President back in sophomore year when he supposedly fell for me “at first sight” and started pursuing me relentlessly. Flowers, dinners, constant attention – he was everywhere. Being this popular guy on campus, yeah, I fell for it. We started dating. But the thing that really convinced me he was “the one” was how respectful he seemed. In this age of hookup culture, Mark was always proper, never pushed things physically. Even when we traveled and stayed in the same hotel room, I saw him struggling, saw the desire in his eyes. But he always stopped before things went too far, even when I hinted it was okay. “Ashley’s my treasure,” he’d say. “I have to respect her. I can only truly have all of her on our wedding day…” I felt his urgent kisses, the sweat from his excitement, but even then, he wouldn’t cross that line. At that moment, I thought, this is the guy. He’s the one. Who could have guessed the real reason he didn’t go further was because he couldn’t? He was impotent and infertile. I still remember how excited and nervous I was on our wedding night. The dream was coming true; I could finally be with the man I loved. But when I walked into the bedroom – the one we’d decorated together – I found his paralyzed father lying on our marriage bed! Mark was just sitting casually beside the bed. When he saw me, his face lit up. “Ashley! I’m so happy! We finally made it to today! Quick, get in bed with Dad! After tonight, we can have our baby!” His words hit me like a bucket of ice water, freezing me on the spot. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I stared at him, my chest tight, gasping for air, unable to speak. “Ugh—” I bent over slightly, gagging. Pulling myself together, wiping away tears, my voice trembling, I asked, “What… what do you mean? Your dad is in our bed? You mean… you want me to have a baby with your dad?” Mark acted like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah, isn’t it obvious? Why are you getting so worked up? What’s the difference between having my baby and having my dad’s baby? As long as the kid has our family blood, that’s all that matters, right?” Mark was a late-in-life child. His mom died young, and his dad raised him alone through hard times. His dad was seventy now, paralyzed from an accident years ago, and had dementia. He couldn’t even move. I’d promised myself I’d treat his dad like my own father after we got married. But now, there he was, lying on the bed, drooling with a vacant smile, seemingly unaware of what was supposed to happen. Mark’s words made me gasp. I was shaking with rage. Pointing at his father on the bed, I yelled, “Even if your dad is paralyzed, it doesn’t matter?! Mark, what the hell were you thinking? Was everything between us, all the sweetness, was it all fake???” Seeing me lose it, Mark looked guilty for a split second, but it was quickly replaced by irritation and defensiveness. “What’s the big deal? My dad’s paralyzed. He can’t tell anyone.” Maybe realizing how awful that sounded, his tone suddenly softened. He looked at me deeply. “Ashley, you’re always so understanding, right? You love me so much, just do this one thing for me, okay? Our family needs an heir!” “I’m hurting too, you know? Do you have any idea what it feels like to push the person you love onto someone else? Especially when it’s my own father? But I don’t have a choice! If I could, I’d want to be with you myself! But God gave me this broken body, I don’t even feel like a real man…” He broke down, sobbing, kneeling on the floor. He crawled towards me, his eyes red, pleading. “Ashley… later, after the baby’s born, we can have a good life, okay? If… if you really don’t want to… we could just be like… sisters…” 3 After that, I completely lost it. We had a massive fight. I can barely remember exactly what was said, only the overwhelming anger and absurdity of it all. Ignoring Mark’s attempts to stop me, I ran out of the house in a daze. Only one thought echoed in my mind: Get away from Mark. Get a divorce. Before the wedding, I’d truly believed Mark was the one I could spend my life with. I never imagined all his patience and tenderness were just an act, a carefully planned conspiracy. Blinded by love, I’d transferred the ownership of two properties my parents gave me as wedding gifts, plus all my dowry assets, into both our names. If we divorced now, there was a good chance all our assets would be split equally. I couldn’t let that happen. I wanted to ruin his reputation, leave him with nothing, make him pay for what he did. But before I could even figure out a plan, Mark struck first. He tried to use public pressure to force me back. He knew I cared about my reputation and didn’t want to worry my parents. He figured I’d cave under the pressure. After all, I’d always been gentle, understanding, and agreeable around him. Even when we argued, I was usually the first to back down. He assumed I wouldn’t have the guts to fight back. I let out a cold laugh. Since Mark was so eager for me to come back and be his family’s broodmare, fine. I’d go back. I took leave from work as quickly as I could, ignoring the weird looks from my colleagues, and headed straight to Mark’s house. That day, getting into his house was suspiciously easy. The front door, usually locked tight, was wide open. I took a deep breath and pushed it open, only to find— In the small living room, Mark was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone with a smug look. The sunlight glinting off his glasses made him look particularly sinister. And his father… was lying next to him on the sofa, completely naked, except for some carefully wrapped ribbons tied around his body, accentuating the folds of loose skin. Like a “present” waiting to be unwrapped. Hearing me enter, Mark glanced up. Seeing it was me, his eyes lit up. He jumped up, grabbed my sleeve, and pulled me inside. “Ashley, come here! I knew you couldn’t stay away from me! I knew you’d come around!” 4 The moment Mark came towards me, a wave of nausea washed over me. I bit down hard on my lip to stop myself from wanting to literally kill him. But outwardly, I let him pull me forward, looking dazed. I didn’t struggle, didn’t speak. I just kept my eyes lowered meekly, looking like I’d resigned myself to my fate, all my previous defiance gone. Mark chattered non-stop beside me, reminiscing about our “good times,” painting rosy pictures of our future. But everything he said revolved around one thing – a baby. “Don’t worry, Ashley. Dad’s in his seventies now, basically got one foot in the grave. After you have the baby, I’ll definitely put him in a nursing home so he won’t be in your way. Then it’ll just be the three of us…” “I know you’ve sacrificed so much for me. Just this once! This one last time. After this, I promise I’ll treat you and the baby right for the rest of our lives. You know me, I love you so much…” He kept sneaking glances at me, cautiously testing my limits. I listened quietly. After a moment, I interrupted him. “So, Mark… after the baby’s born, will it call you Daddy, or… big brother?” Mark froze. His face twisted for a moment, his eyes flashing with sudden cruelty. My question hit a raw nerve, making it impossible for him to keep up the act. Just before he exploded, I suddenly burst into tears, slapping myself frantically. “I love you so much! How could I bear to see your family line end? How could I refuse anything you ask? We’ve been together for years, Mark, don’t you know me by now? How could I ever want to make you sad?” “What hurt me was that you never told me about this! What hurt was the pain of knowing the man I love is pushing me towards someone else! I just couldn’t accept it right away, so I said some harsh things. Couldn’t you give me even a little time to process?” Hearing this, Mark’s anger instantly vanished. His eyes lit up with ecstatic relief. “Ashley, Ashley, you mean…” I clutched my head, mumbling, “I was so desperate back then… because I love you. I love you enough to die for you. I don’t want anyone else! But if you need this… I’ll do whatever you ask.” “These past few days, I’ve been trying to mentally prepare myself. But Mark… I can’t believe you didn’t trust me at all. I can’t believe you resorted to cyberbullying me just to force me back. Now everyone is…” By the end, I was sobbing hysterically, fighting back disgust as I leaned on Mark’s shoulder, pouring out my supposed grievances. All the while, I subtly made it clear I’d agreed to his plan, that I would have the baby for his family, I just needed a little time. To gain his trust and sympathy, I played the part of a slightly unhinged, devoted lover, saying ridiculous things I didn’t mean. All to placate him, buy time, and gather evidence for the final blow. Thankfully, my act worked. Mark believed me. He was moved to tears by my performance. He held me tight, comforting me gently. “Ashley, I’m sorry. I misunderstood you. I thought you were still angry with me, so I just… I panicked…” Feeling guilty, he quickly pulled out his phone to appease me. Right in front of me, he deleted his previous post and edited it. “To all the concerned netizens, thank you for your support. My wife and I have worked things out. She’s a wonderful person, and I misunderstood her. We’re going to build a happy life together and have a beautiful baby soon. We’ll send out baby shower invites to everyone then!” After posting, he ignored the online storm brewing and looked at me eagerly, trying to be nice but still with an undercurrent of demand. “Ashley, I’ll give you time, but please don’t make me wait too long, okay?” I lowered my head to hide the sneer in my eyes, watching his pathetic display without a flicker of emotion. When I looked up again, my face was a mask of tearful gratitude. My voice choked, “Mark, don’t worry. I’ll start researching everything about getting pregnant right away. I’ll do my best to give the Johnson family a healthy baby boy…”

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