My sister and I were adopted from the orphanage. My sister chose the Sterlings, a family with unmatched wealth and power. But the heir of the Sterling family had a twisted personality and tortured her every day. Meanwhile, I chose the ordinary Mercer family. Although their wealth couldn’t compare to the Sterlings, they treated me incredibly well. The young master of the Mercer family later became a business magnate and married me, giving me a life of absolute bliss. Driven mad by jealousy, my sister secretly strangled me to death. When I opened my eyes again, my sister didn’t hesitate to steal the life I had lived. She chose the Mercer family. “It’s your turn to be tortured this time, little sister.” I almost laughed out loud. Did she really think the young master of the Mercer family was a good person? 1. I was reborn, back to the day my sister Chloe and I were being adopted. “Sir, I’m obedient and I can do chores. Please adopt me.” Beside me, Chloe grabbed the hand of Vincent, the young master of the Mercer family. So, she had been reborn too. “Little girl, didn’t you just say you liked our family?” a wealthy woman spoke up. She was Mrs. Sterling, mother to Arthur Sterling, the heir to a New York real estate empire. Arthur himself wasn’t present. “I suddenly don’t like your family anymore. Is that a problem?” Chloe said, shrinking behind Vincent. Mrs. Sterling looked a bit annoyed. “Someone as fickle as you isn’t fit to enter the Sterling family anyway!” Then, she looked at me gently. “Sweetheart, come with me. We have a big brother at home for you, too.” I nodded and reached out my hand. Chloe’s eyes were full of triumph. She seemed very satisfied with my reaction. But what she didn’t know was that compared to the eccentric billionaire heir, I was far more terrified of the venomous snake that was Vincent Mercer. In my past life, I desperately tried to escape him. This time, she actually did me a huge favor. As I walked to the door with Mrs. Sterling, she went to pull the car around. Chloe suddenly walked up to me, her eyes brimming with contempt. “It’s your turn to be tortured this time, little sister.” I ignored her. Because to me, she was acting like an absolute clown right now! She thought this was a new beginning. But she had no idea she was jumping from one fire pit into an even deadlier inferno. 2. After being taken to the Sterling estate in the Hamptons, Mrs. Sterling gave me my own suite and hired private tutors for piano, dance, and etiquette. She told me, “Sweetheart, to be honest, I adopted a daughter because I wanted to raise the perfect daughter-in-law.” “You need to work hard now. Arthur is coming back from studying abroad in a month. As long as he takes a liking to you, your life will be perfect. After all, the entire Sterling empire will be his.” In our past life, Arthur didn’t like Chloe, which made her life miserable. I didn’t dare to hope that the aloof, aristocratic heir would fall for me. I had to rely on other methods to secure my future. A month later, the Sterlings hosted a grand banquet. It was to celebrate Arthur’s return to New York. Many elite families were invited, including the Mercers, who had business ties with the Sterlings. Chloe spotted me immediately and walked toward me in a white princess dress. “Little sister, today is going to be the most humiliating moment of your life.” In our past life, this banquet was where she first met Arthur. The moment Arthur saw her, he frowned. Then he told her to get lost in front of everyone. When she shamelessly clung to him, claiming to be his future wife, Arthur literally kicked her away. 3. Since I was also reborn, I already knew how this would play out and had prepared a backup plan. Chloe thought I would share her past-life fate. But I was about to disappoint her. Before Arthur could enter the banquet hall, I cornered him in a private lounge. It was our first time meeting. He was a full head taller than me, his handsome face utterly indifferent. Tsk, he really is unapproachable. I handed him a business proposal. “I know you have a new project and aren’t sure how to operate it. This is my plan. I guarantee it will turn a massive profit.” Growing up in the foster system, I only had a high school diploma, but I had a brilliant mind for business. In my past life, Vincent only became a business magnate because I was the mastermind behind his success. “How do you know about my new project?” Arthur took the folder, his long fingers flipping through a few pages. In my past life, this project belonged to Vincent. Back then, when I first moved into his house, he treated me well. So I used my own proposal to win this contract for him. But without me in this life, I discovered the project had landed in Arthur’s lap. “I did my research,” I smiled. “Mr. Sterling, I can draft project proposals for you from now on.” “But on one condition: we play nice in front of your family, but privately, we mind our own business.” Arthur was a businessman; he valued profit above all. If I could bring him value, he would surely be tempted. Just as I thought he would agree, he raised an eyebrow at me. “I get it. You want to trade your cooperation for a peaceful life here. Right?” “But didn’t my mother tell you she didn’t adopt a daughter, she adopted a bride?” “I know. So what’s your point?” I looked at him in confusion. He smirked and closed the folder. “Your proposal is excellent. But once you marry me, your proposals will belong to me anyway.” With that, he walked out. I stood there, still processing his words. What did he mean? Did he actually like me? No! He definitely just wanted to trap me into writing business plans for him forever. That had to be it. 4. When we entered the main hall, Mrs. Sterling pulled me along, introducing me to the elders. “This is my future daughter-in-law. She has a wonderful personality and is absolutely gorgeous.” Everyone showered me with praise. Nearby, Chloe stood next to Vincent, glaring at me with dark, brooding eyes. She walked over with a champagne glass and looked at Mrs. Sterling. “Mrs. Sterling, I heard Arthur just returned from abroad. Have he and my sister met yet?” “Does he actually approve of this ‘future wife’?” During the adoption, Chloe had already left a terrible impression on Mrs. Sterling. Hearing her speak now, Mrs. Sterling’s eyes flashed with displeasure. “Mind your own business!” “Our family matters are none of your concern. Who do you think you are?” Vincent’s face went pale. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Sterling. My sister doesn’t know her place.” As he said that, no one noticed the brief flash of malice in his eyes. But I had seen that look countless times in my past life. Every time, it signaled the start of a nightmare. Terrified, I took a step back and accidentally bumped into a warm chest. I turned around and saw Arthur. “Careful.” His eyes were filled with amusement, and his voice was as gentle as water. Chloe looked like she was about to explode. She was definitely wondering why Arthur was treating me so well. “Mr. Sterling, do you really like my sister?” “Do you know she’s an orphan? And that she was almost sexually assaulted?!” Chloe’s words plunged the entire hall into dead silence. Back at the foster home, an older man had snuck into my room and ripped my clothes. He tried to assault me, but I fought him off by smashing a vase over his head. Afterward, Chloe spread rumors that I had been violated. Later, she whispered to me, “Sister, guess who paid that man to do it?” That was when I realized she had set me up. Thinking of this, my fists clenched tightly. I was about to speak, but Arthur beat me to it. “Is that so?” He looked at Chloe. Chloe looked incredibly smug. “Yes! Lily was used by an old man—” Before she could finish, Arthur delivered a vicious kick, sending her flying backward. Instantly, all eyes in the room snapped toward them. Vincent looked humiliated. “Mr. Sterling, please calm down. It’s my fault for not disciplining my sister properly.” “If I ever hear her slandering my fiancée again, I’ll make sure she can’t survive in New York.” “Actually, no. Your entire Mercer family will be banished from this city.” “You really need to teach this sister of yours a lesson.” Arthur’s voice was frighteningly cold. Vincent quickly bowed. “You are absolutely right, Mr. Sterling. I’ll teach her a lesson right now.” Smack! Smack! Smack! Vincent marched over and slapped Chloe across the face, left and right. “Ah! Stop hitting me! It hurts…” Chloe’s screams echoed through the grand hall. Mrs. Sterling also spoke up. “I have officially acknowledged her as my daughter-in-law. From now on, remember her name is Lily Sterling. If I hear anyone bullying her, I will pay them back tenfold!” “Feel better?” Arthur whispered, pulling me close. “That was incredibly satisfying!” I felt like I could finally breathe freely. 5. Thanks to the scene Chloe caused, Arthur and I grew much closer. Plus, everyone now knew I was the future Mrs. Sterling and treated me with utmost respect. As for Chloe, she was dragged away by a furious Vincent. In our past life, Vincent hadn’t revealed his true nature this early. But because of today’s humiliation, his mask slipped prematurely. I knew Chloe’s nightmare was about to begin. I wondered if she could handle it. Over the following weeks, Chloe didn’t bother me once. I used the time to look for ways to make money, planning to eventually leave the city. Because having been reborn, I learned one crucial truth. Relying on yourself is the only way to survive! But while I was job hunting, Arthur reached out to me. He texted: Come work at my company. I’ll pay you $10,000 a month, plus a year-end bonus. This was perfect. I needed a high-paying job. I gladly accepted. However, on my way there, someone suddenly clamped a hand over my mouth. When I woke up, I was in a filthy public restroom. The floor was covered in slippery grime and reeked of sewage. Standing in front of me was the same man who had tried to assault me at the foster home. He bared his yellow teeth in a vulgar grin: “Once I’m done with you, you won’t be fit to be the Sterling family’s wife.” “Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you. I already notified the Sterlings to come here.” I smiled: “Looks like that vase to the head didn’t hurt enough last time.” “What do you mean?” I pushed myself off the floor and pulled a gleaming, razor-sharp knife from my pocket. “Did you really think I’d fall for the same trick twice?” With that, I ruthlessly slashed my own arm. Blood poured out instantly. I even smeared it all over my clothes and body. Just then, the door was pushed open. “Mr. Sterling, please don’t be mad at my sister. She was just lonely and looking for a man—” Chloe froze mid-sentence when she saw me covered in blood. 6. “Arthur, he stabbed me! Am I going to die…?” Tears instantly spilled from my eyes as I looked pitifully at Arthur. His face drastically changed. He rushed over and scooped me into his arms. Mrs. Sterling, standing nearby, burst into tears of panic. “Lily, don’t be scared! We’re taking you to the hospital!” Chloe stood frozen in place. As Arthur carried me past her, he delivered a lethal threat: “You arranged this, didn’t you? Just wait.” “No… Mr. Sterling, it wasn’t me.” Chloe instantly dropped to her knees, begging for mercy. But Arthur had already carried me away. After my wound was bandaged at the hospital, Arthur gripped my hand tightly. “Don’t ever take a risk like that again.” “Whatever revenge you want, I can do it for you.” My heart skipped a beat. He knew I did it on purpose. “How did you know?” “I know you too well.” “You clearly had the ability to fight back, but you didn’t. That means you injured yourself intentionally.” I had taken self-defense classes in my past life and had the ability to fight back. But we had only met a handful of times. How did he know me so well? “Don’t worry. No matter who hurt you, I’ll make them pay.” I nodded, staying silent. Last time, when Vincent dragged Chloe away, I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist seeking revenge. So, I had someone tail her. I discovered she was in contact with that man, plotting against me. So, I decided to beat her at her own game. The Sterlings were an elite family. They would never stand by and do nothing if their future daughter-in-law was harmed. That was why I injured myself. I wanted to use the Sterlings’ power to crush Chloe and the Mercers. After all, I clearly remembered every single thing they did to me in my past life. 7. Vincent brought Chloe to apologize to me. They carried stacks of expensive gifts and knelt at the entrance of the Sterling estate. Chloe wore a face mask, her eyes filled with defiance. Vincent slapped her hard across the face. “Stop glaring! All you do is glare. Believe me, I’ll gouge your eyes out!” “If I knew you were like this, my family would have never adopted you!” Chloe trembled in fear. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t glare anymore.” Watching this from the second-floor balcony, I burst out laughing. Chloe surely hadn’t expected that stealing my life would still result in her being tortured. Because she didn’t know that Vincent was a venomous snake. And the Mercer parents only adopted a daughter to give their twisted son a new toy to play with. I remembered it all too well. I remembered exactly how brutally I was tortured in my past life. Chloe was wearing long sleeves, pants, and a mask. She was definitely hiding bruises. I went downstairs and opened the door. “Sister, what brings you here?” “Lily, your sister and I came to apologize. Please be the bigger person and forgive him. Ask Mr. Sterling to continue his partnership with us. My family’s company is on the verge of bankruptcy.” Vincent looked at me with a pathetic expression. Seeing his face made me sick to my stomach! How could I ever accept their apology? “I don’t accept.” “Lily, don’t push your luck—” Chloe swallowed the rest of her words when she saw Arthur walk out. “Mr. Sterling, I really didn’t hire that man the other day.” “That man already confessed at the police station. Are you sure you want to keep lying?” Arthur raised an eyebrow at her. She hurriedly apologized: “I… I’m sorry, Mr. Sterling. I had a moment of foolishness.” Then she looked at me, crying: “Sister, we grew up together. Please, be the bigger person and let me go.” I reached out and ripped her mask off. Her face was covered in bruises and cuts. I smiled softly: “Sister, seeing you so miserable puts my mind at ease.” Hearing this, the fury in her eyes flared up instantly. But with Arthur standing right there, she didn’t dare lash out. I told her I wouldn’t be soft-hearted. She hurt me, and I couldn’t just let it go. 8. A week later, the Mercer family’s company declared bankruptcy. In my past life, their company flourished because of me. But in this life, Chloe’s “brilliant” moves drove them straight into the ground. I heard that Vincent had fully unleashed his true nature. He beat Chloe daily and locked her inside the house. Meanwhile, I worked peacefully every day, making a lot of money working for Arthur. I assumed Arthur treated me well simply because he appreciated my business talents. He couldn’t possibly have real feelings for me. So, my plan was still to save enough money and leave. But Arthur seemed to be completely serious about me. One day, while I was handing him some documents, he suddenly pulled me into his arms. “The wedding is set for next month. Do you want to go try on wedding dresses?” I was stunned. “You’re serious?” “Of course.” He took my hand, gently tracing my fingers. “I made up my mind the first time I saw you.” “Lily, I promise to treat you well.” Why was this Arthur so different from the one in my past life? Still, needing his protection to ensure my peaceful life at the Sterling estate, I agreed.

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At my husband’s funeral, everyone tried to comfort me, telling me not to be sad. But I wasn’t sad. After the funeral, I worked five straight days of overtime. Reeking of the office, my mother-in-law forced me to go home and rest. She told me I had to look forward. Of course I had to look forward. I even had blind dates to go on. 1 It was my first time attending a funeral, and the main character was Liam Hayes. It felt incredibly weird. I chose the photo myself. A normally serious man, pushing his nose up to make a silly, ugly face. It was one of the very few photos where he was goofing off. I thought my mother-in-law would blame me, and that relatives and friends would say I was disrespecting the deceased, but no one seemed upset. They approached me carefully, their eyes darting away, afraid to make eye contact. So annoying. I turned my head, smiled at my husband lying in the casket, and said, “Hey, nobody told me funerals were like this?” So novel. “My condolences, Sarah,” my sister-in-law said, patting my shoulder. “My brother wouldn’t want you to be this heartbroken.” I found it funny. I earnestly searched my mind for any trace of emotion and shook my head. “I’m not heartbroken.” She sighed. “Don’t be like this. It… it makes me hurt for you.” My mother-in-law also pressed my shoulders, urging me to go rest on the side. “Mom, I’m not tired,” I said, spinning around in front of her. “Look, I’m full of energy. I could wrestle a bear.” I almost felt like this was just a normal banquet, it was just a pity I had to stand and couldn’t go down and eat. I saw the coral grouper earlier. That’s my favorite fish. I’ll definitely pack a few in plastic bags later. Oh, and the mixed salad. I heard the chef here is amazing at cold dishes, so I specifically ordered it. Grumble… My stomach growled. I rubbed my stomach and giggled foolishly. Under everyone’s sympathetic gaze, I stood for 28 hours straight, not feeling sleepy at all. Unfortunately, by the time dawn broke and the crematorium staff arrived, I still hadn’t had time to eat from that banquet table. No other reason than there were too many trivial things to deal with. I complained to the casket, “This is too much trouble. Good thing you’ll only bother me with this once. Hmph.” I chose the most expensive urn for Liam, and even put his favorite cologne inside. It was a custom-made cologne he bought casually on the street—a light, woody scent. Liam used it for many years. He said the scent was like him, gently seeping into the fabric. I didn’t understand what he meant. I just felt that even if he wore the most disgusting smell, I would still love it. What can I say? The filter of true love is strong; it even affects your sense of smell. The lid closed, and the fragrance faded. I calmly handled the final arrangements and hurried home to change clothes. I smelled terrible, so I took a long, hot bath. My boss called. “Sarah, your husband just passed. Don’t rush back to work. I’m giving you a few days off.” But corporate slaves don’t deserve rest. When I showed up at the office for overtime, my coworker, Linda, shivered. “Sarah, are you okay? Didn’t your husband…” I was very impatient. I’d been explaining to people non-stop these past few days that my husband died. How could this coworker forget again?! I stared intently at my computer, typing out a proposal. “Mr. Peterson is coming over in two days. If I don’t keep an eye on this, everyone’s year-end bonus is going to vanish.” She let out a weird yelp and ran out holding her coffee. My boss pressed down on my shoulder. “Don’t rush. The work is never-ending. You had a family tragedy; you need to take a couple of days off…” “Sigh, I’m fine. I’ve got plenty of energy.” I ran my fingers through my hair, continuously editing the proposal. He sighed, and the office returned to silence. 2 The office was dead silent. The sound of my typing grew louder and louder. It felt like there was a fire in my chest, and I didn’t know how to let it out. I wanted to slack off and look at my phone for a bit. I swiped to a funny video and wanted to share it, but suddenly remembered I had no one to share it with. I pondered for a moment, then took Liam’s phone out of my pocket and texted myself: “Wifey, wifey, why aren’t you home yet?” I replied: “Be good, the project bonus is twenty grand! Once I get the bonus, I’ll take you on a trip to Hawaii.” Much better. I put down the phone and kept typing. At 2:30 AM, I sent a text to Mr. Peterson. [Mr. Peterson, when are you available to come over and discuss the contract?] I waited ten minutes. The phone was as quiet as a mouse. I couldn’t help but call him. Mr. Peterson replied, his voice heavy with sleep, “I’ve had some family matters recently. Let’s talk in a couple of days, okay? It’s so late, Sarah, aren’t you tired?” Family matters? Could his family matters be bigger than Sarah’s family matters? I poked at my phone, furious. My husband died, and even I wasn’t as busy as him. But I couldn’t complain to a client. Since he didn’t have time, I continued to refine the proposal, typing out every minor detail I could think of, and even preparing five or six backup plans. I hadn’t slept for almost a week, but my energy was still high. The city night was silent. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window holding my coffee, looking down at the entire city. In the dark office, the faint glow from the computer screen illuminated my face. I looked at my reflection in the glass. I just passed my thirtieth birthday, and I didn’t look much older. After pulling so many all-nighters, my face hadn’t sagged, and my dark circles weren’t that bad. I marveled at myself—I truly had the innate physique of a corporate workhorse. My phone alarm went off, reminding me it was time to take my folic acid. Liam and I had been doing well in our careers recently, so we started preparing for pregnancy, getting everything ready to welcome a new life. Expressionless, I tossed the folic acid into the trash can. My chest twitched with pain, but I still wasn’t sad. Birth, aging, sickness, and death are just parts of the human experience. The office lights flicked on. My mother-in-law and my boss walked in from outside. “Sarah, I’ve asked your boss for a month of leave. You are going home to rest right now, and the company won’t let you back in.” My mother-in-law cracked her knuckles. “Don’t make me call some people to drag you back.” “Don’t worry, Sarah,” my boss assured me. “This project with Mr. Peterson is your hard work. When the contract is signed, the commission goes to you. The team has already reached a consensus.” I was too familiar with their expressions—pure sympathy. I wanted to explain that I really wasn’t sad, but after opening my mouth a few times, I finally nodded in agreement. I grabbed my car keys, ready to drive home, but my mother-in-law snatched them away. “How long has it been since you slept? Letting you drive—do you want to kill me?” My mother-in-law had kids early; she was only 55 now. Her hair wasn’t entirely white, and her well-maintained face had very few wrinkles. She was a doctor. Every day her hair was meticulously combed, and she rarely smiled. When I first met her, I was quite anxious. It was Liam who comforted me. “My mom is a great person, she just has a sharp tongue but a soft heart. Once you figure out her temper, you’ll be fine.” Then he immediately told his mom to be nicer to me, saying I wasn’t one of the interns in her department. She sat behind the steering wheel, her back straight, her glasses reflecting the streetlights. “Go home and get a good sleep. What needs to pass, will pass.” Her eyes were slightly red. The moment she looked down, she seemed utterly exhausted. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes had deepened at some point, revealing her age. “It’s all over. He passed without pain, that’s a good thing too.” I took a deep breath, staring at the safety charm hanging from the rearview mirror. 3 I slept for less than five hours. When I woke up, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by something heavy—sour, tight, and a little painful. It scared me enough to go to the hospital for a check-up. Sinus arrhythmia. Nothing major. The doctor told me to stop staying up late. I originally wanted to go to the company, but remembering I had a month-long vacation, I suddenly felt lost. For the past few years, Liam and I rarely rested. We often complained about not having enough alone time, our lives filled to the brim with work. The week before the accident, we worked like crazy to take our annual leave early and go somewhere for a couple of days. Liam still had a half-finished itinerary on his phone. Thinking of this, I pulled out my laptop and finished the itinerary. Even after finishing it, I still felt hyperactive. The events of the past few days looped in my mind like a carousel. I touched my chest, feeling like I must be sick. Otherwise, why didn’t I know how to be sad? I looked in the mirror, trying to squeeze out a tear, but only managed an ugly, forced smile. My mom called to comfort me, subtly hinting that I shouldn’t remain a widow forever. I laughed and retorted, “What era is this? Does a woman still have to stay chaste after her husband dies?” I tossed my instant noodles onto the coffee table, turned around, and bought a premium membership on a dating site. The steam from the beef noodle soup clouded my eyes. Suddenly, the usually mild noodles tasted incredibly spicy today. I chugged the noodle broth and coughed violently from the spice. 4 Liam and I fell in love naturally; I had never been on a blind date before. The first time felt quite novel. On TV, blind dates always happened in cafes, so I arranged to meet the guy at a cafe near my house. The man who showed up was middle-aged. Not bald, not ugly, and dressed appropriately. Compared to my pajamas and slippers, his suit and tie were excessively formal. I frowned, looking him up and down. He just rubbed me the wrong way. “My situation is all in the profile. I’m 35, divorced, no kids, an executive at a multinational company, making $300k a year…” So this is what a blind date is like. I rested my chin on my hand, looking amused. “Mr. Miller, you look decent enough. Are you interested in getting double eyelid surgery? I prefer men with monolids or hidden double eyelids. I don’t have many demands; once we’re together, just get the surgery done.” He froze. He looked me up and down. “Are you sick in the head?” I felt very offended. We just met, how could he just open his mouth and insult me? He also felt offended. He stood up and left without even paying for his coffee. Cheapskate. 5 Liam’s eyes were beautiful. When he looked down at people, it always gave the illusion of deep affection. I always thought he had monolids until we got together and I realized they were hidden double eyelids. When we were intimate, my favorite thing to do was touch his eyelids. I knew exactly where the scar on the corner of his eye was. This guy wasn’t cooperative; he wasn’t my type. Liam and I used to come to this cafe all the time. On our rare days off, we would sit at this window seat. He would look at his laptop, I would read a book. Occasionally, our eyes would meet, we’d share a knowing smile, and then go back to doing our own thing. This place was like our secret base, full of memories. “Hey, I brought a stranger here,” I muttered to myself, touching the glass. When paying, I complained to the barista, “The coffee today has no flavor. Make it stronger next time.” Lately, I couldn’t taste anything. This black coffee tasted just like water. If Liam were still here, he’d probably make a huge fuss and take me to the hospital, afraid I had caught some weird disease. I couldn’t help but smile. Once, I got a paper cut. He was so terrified he took me to the hospital to get it bandaged. The doctor complained, “There’s not even any blood. If you had waited a bit longer, it would have healed itself.” I teased him about it for days. He was still self-righteous about it: “What if you got tetanus? Wouldn’t that be worse?” Walking home, I went to the ground floor to buy cologne like usual, only to find the perfume shop had become a nail salon. The layout of the perfume shop was still there, and the air still carried a faint fragrance, but the owner was nowhere to be found. I asked the nail technicians for the previous owner’s contact info, but they didn’t know. The familiar scent was fading, and a sense of panic gripped my heart.

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Arthur Sterling wanted to divorce me for his delicate, white-lotus first love. Even our child had taken a special liking to her. When I heard him carefully call that woman “Mom,” my heart went completely cold, and I signed the divorce papers. Years later, I returned to the country for a gathering. A strange young boy timidly called me “Mom.” My daughter asked curiously, “Is he Evelyn’s big brother?” I shook my head. “Mom only has one child in this life, and that’s Evelyn.” 1 Everyone was thrilled to see the little blonde girl by my side. Madison nudged me with her elbow. “Where’d you kidnap her from? She’s so cute.” Someone chimed in, “Yeah, seriously. Chloe, I didn’t expect you to become a human trafficker after a few years abroad.” I unceremoniously flicked them both on the forehead. “What kind of nonsense is that? This is my daughter.” I squatted down. “Don’t we look alike?” Evelyn played along, obediently pressing her little cheek against mine. The private room instantly went dead silent. I knew this news was a bit too shocking for them. My marriage to Arthur had only ended a few years ago. And my intense, high-profile pursuit of him back in the day was something everyone here had witnessed; many had even helped me strategize. I had kept my life abroad very private, so they all assumed I was still single. Or at least, not married with a kid. Madison looked like she wanted to swear, but seeing Evelyn, she swallowed the words. She turned around and made a phone call. “Yeah, tell the guys they don’t need to come over. Tonight’s not the right vibe.” I held back a laugh, looking at my old friends. “What? Are married women not welcome here?” My friends recovered from their shock and bombarded me with questions: “Who’d you marry? Is he handsome?” “Chloe, how could you snag a hot foreign guy and not tell us?!” “What’s your name, little one? Want Auntie to play with you?” “Hannah, stop talking in that gross baby voice.” “Screw off, leave me alone.” … I rubbed my temples helplessly. A decade later, and they were still just as noisy. Thankfully, Evelyn wasn’t shy. She happily played with my old friends. Madison pulled me aside for a drink. “Are you really over Arthur?” I smiled, showing her the ring on my finger. “What do you think?” She smacked her forehead. “Right, stupid question.” “Arthur was so dead-set on marrying that fragile little flower back then. Now he’s regretting it.” I raised an eyebrow. “He regrets it?” I hadn’t kept tabs on them since I went abroad, but Arthur regretting it was genuinely surprising. He loved Lily Evans to death back then. He was willing to fight the whole world to marry her. Madison nodded. “The white lotus is pretty, sure, but being Mrs. Sterling is too much for her to handle.” The title of ‘Mrs. Sterling’ didn’t just mean being Arthur’s wife; it carried significant responsibilities. “The Sterling family has a massive empire. It’s not easy to manage,” I said. “You have no idea. When the white lotus first married Arthur, she couldn’t do anything right. She messed everything up. Arthur was patient at first, but patience doesn’t equal time. Eventually, he just got sick of it. Men, right? Typical.” Madison’s tone dripped with sarcasm. She never liked Arthur to begin with. Ever since she took over her family’s business, she had cut off many of their partnerships with the Sterlings. In her eyes, a man who couldn’t keep his personal life straight couldn’t possibly run a corporation well. Madison waved her hand. “Whatever, let’s not talk about that dog.” Just as she finished speaking, the door to the private room suddenly opened. A strange boy, looking to be around ten or eleven, walked in. Madison looked toward the door impatiently. “Who’s that?” “Whose kid is lost?” The boy scanned the crowd frantically before his eyes locked onto me. Those beautiful eyes gave me a strange sense of familiarity. Someone in the crowd murmured, “Isn’t that Arthur’s oldest son?” Madison reacted faster than I did. “Oh, it’s Chloe’s kid! Arthur… Arthur what again?” A friend reminded her, “Arthur James Sterling.” Evelyn, who was playing happily, seemed to sense something. She looked left and right, her big eyes darting around. The boy walked toward me and called out timidly, “Mom.” 2 That single word, “Mom,” pulled me back several years. When Arthur brought up divorce, he didn’t give a reason. Madison did some digging for me and uncovered his first love, Lily Evans. I took the evidence and confronted Arthur. During the argument, a truth accidentally slipped out of him: “Yes, I love Lily! Even if I have a child with you, that child must carry the mark of her existence!” Only then did it all make sense. No wonder when we were naming our son, Arthur insisted on changing “Julian” to “James.” He said he hoped our son would be “Just,” noble, and righteous. But it wasn’t about justice. It was an anagram. “James” was for J-A-M-E-S. Just Always Miss Evans Secretly. Unlike what Madison and the others thought, from that day forward, my feelings for Arthur died completely. I loved Arthur, yes, but not enough to lose myself. I loved him, but I loved my dignity more. However, our marriage involved too many people. Just separating the assets took a massive amount of time. Arthur cheated first; I had to make sure I got the larger share. Back then, my biggest concern was my son, James. But from the very beginning, he didn’t want to leave with me. Maybe it was pity from above that made me suddenly stubborn, wanting to persuade James, wanting to fight for full custody. If it hadn’t been for that stubbornness, I never would have discovered that my dear son had already accepted Lily as his mother. If I hadn’t discovered that, I wouldn’t have left so cleanly, and I wouldn’t have started my new life so easily. After I confronted Arthur, he immediately moved Lily into our house under the guise of being James’s private tutor. Surprisingly, James adored ‘Ms. Lily’ and defended her at every turn. I heard him praise Ms. Lily more than once, saying she was gentle and pretty, understanding, considerate, and kind. But James was just a little kid back then. I thought Arthur had hidden the affair well, so I didn’t overthink it. Until I heard it with my own ears. He carefully asked Lily, “Ms. Lily, can I call you Mom?” After getting a yes, he happily called her “Mom” several times. He added, “Ms. Lily needs to become my new mom quickly. I hate my mom right now. I hope she and Dad get divorced soon.” Lily asked him why. “Because Mom won’t let me eat candy.” Lily sounded surprised. “Just because of that?” “Yes.” James’s decisive answer completely shattered me. I thought about a lot of things. I thought about my parenting style. I thought about my past. In the end, I signed the divorce papers without any lingering attachments and left the country. 3 Seeing that I wasn’t responding, James called out again, “Mom.” His eyes were red, and he looked incredibly pitiful. Evelyn suddenly threw herself into my arms. She stared at him with wide, curious eyes and asked, “Is he Evelyn’s big brother?” James froze, then quickly shifted his gaze back to me, his face filled with unconcealed hope. I smiled gently at Evelyn and shook my head. “Mom only has one child in this life, and that’s Evelyn.” “This brother is… the son of a friend of Mom’s. But of course, you can call him ‘brother’.” Half-understanding, Evelyn reached out a hand to James. “Hi brother, I’m Evelyn.” But James just stood there, frozen, ignoring her. Evelyn awkwardly pulled her hand back and rubbed her little nose. “Mom, why does he look like he just got struck by lightning?” I chuckled and rubbed her head. “Go play with your aunts and uncles.” “Okay!” The little girl ran off, cheering happily. James looked at me pitifully. “Mom, do you not want James anymore?” His tone was exactly the same as when he was a toddler, seemingly trying to awaken my maternal instincts. I smiled faintly. “You have your own mom.” James grew a bit agitated. “She’s not my mom.” “Why not?” He looked down and didn’t answer. I didn’t bother pressing him. My tone was gentle but distant: “James, you were the one who didn’t want me first.” James looked up, his eyes incredibly complex. It was the first time I had ever seen that look in his eyes. It wasn’t a look a boy his age should have. James lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry, Mom.” He found a corner to sit in by himself and didn’t bother me again. Madison sneered. “And here I thought the kid loved his fragile little stepmom.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “When the white lotus first got married, a lot of people looked down on her. Your son defended her everywhere, treating her like royalty. Didn’t you always say he was a good kid? So good he actually got into fights defending the white lotus.” “Raising a son is worse than raising a dog.” I smiled and took a sip of my drink. Madison didn’t say anything else, just drank with me. After so many years, seeing the son I barely recognized, it would be a lie to say I felt absolutely nothing. But our mother-son bond was thin, and this was James’s own choice. Besides, too many years had passed. The emotion faded as quickly as it came. When the party ended, James was still sitting there, refusing to leave. I tried to call his dad, but realized I had deleted the number. I tried to call his mom, but realized I never had her number to begin with. Madison boldly patted her chest. “Let me handle it.” She picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts for a long time. “…He blocked me.” Evelyn was getting sleepy. She yawned. “Mom, let’s just leave him here, he won’t die. I want to go home and sleep.” Madison laughed. “Your kid is fierce.” I picked Evelyn up. “Takes after her dad.” Thankfully, a friend who had forgotten something came back and made the call for us. “James is currently at…” “No time? What should we do?” “Okay, I’ll have Chloe call him a cab.” “Yeah, she flew back today.” “Oh? Suddenly you have time?” 4 By the time Arthur arrived, Evelyn had fallen fast asleep. She was nestled in my arms, her little cheeks flushed. “Chloe. It’s been a long time.” Arthur didn’t look much different from before. He was always handsome, and even time seemed to have treated him kindly. His dark eyes were deep, unreadable. I replied softly, “Long time no see.” Madison gestured toward James with her chin. “Mr. Sterling, hurry up and take your son home. He’s been refusing to leave.” James sat in silence, making no move to get up. I don’t know if I imagined it, but he seemed to exchange a look with Arthur. I turned to Madison. “Let’s go. It won’t be good if Evelyn wakes up.” Just as I stood up to leave, Arthur suddenly called out, “Chloe, have you been well lately?” I frowned. “Keep your voice down.” Evelyn stirred in my arms, a bit restless. Arthur lowered his voice, making forced conversation. “Whose child is this? She’s beautiful.” His words praised Evelyn, but his eyes were fixed on me. “Mine.” I had only been holding her for a little while, but my arms were already getting sore. Kids really do grow fast. Arthur’s smile froze. “What?” He stared blankly at Evelyn for a long time, then smiled again. “She’s adopted, right?” I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Biological.” Evelyn looked so much like me, a perfect copy of my excellent genes. She obviously looked like my biological daughter. Adopted? You’re the one who’s adopted! Madison sensed my annoyance. She stepped between Arthur and me, separating us. “It’s late. Mr. Sterling should take his kid home to sleep.” With that, we left. Madison looked back. “That old dog Arthur is still staring at you.” “Yeah. I’m staying at your place tonight.” “Stay as long as you want. What’s mine is yours.” “I want the master bedroom.” “? Don’t push your luck!” “The master bedroom is bigger. I have a kid to raise. Do you have a kid to raise?” “Hmph. You win.”

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I Couldn’t Move On After My Mother Passed. Then I Found Her Diary: “Let Mom Help You One Last Time.” After Mom passed away. I was lost in a dark place for a long time. More than once, I wanted to jump off that bridge. But Mom was the wind blowing across the water. Time and time again, pushing me back to safety. …… It was 1 AM when I finally got home. When I opened the door, Dad was exactly as he always was. His thumb and index finger weakly pinching a glass of whiskey, pouring it down his throat. I couldn’t help but think that after Mom passed. I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t move on. Dad was trapped, too. But neither of us knew how to hide our emotions. Just like right now, he wanted to present the image of a cheerful dad welcoming his daughter home for the holidays. But all I saw was. A miserable man with tear stains all over his face, forcing a smile. He pulled the corners of his mouth up toward his ears. Looking at me helplessly, waiting for a hug. I mirrored his expression, forcing a smile of my own. Then I put my backpack down, stepped forward, and hugged him tightly. He said, “Chloe, have you eaten?” “Let me make you some mac and cheese.” Saying that, he let go of me and went into the kitchen. He reached up and pulled open the top cabinet. I watched from afar. Inside was an entire row of instant mac and cheese cups. Next to the microwave, there were several empty wrappers and cheese powder stains. I figured this was how he had been getting by all these days alone. This was our first Christmas after Mom left. It was too lonely, too bleak. Without her, we just couldn’t manage our lives. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. My tears dripped onto the floor like a leaky faucet. Dad seemed a little drunk. Not only did he fail to notice my breakdown. But he also accidentally knocked a stack of bowls and plates onto the floor. The sound of shattering porcelain instantly scared my tears back. I ran over to him. The back of his hand was cut. The blood dripped… It dripped right onto a notebook. I froze for a moment. A diary? 2 My mom’s name was Mary. She only had a middle school education. She knew how to read, but not perfectly. She still made spelling mistakes. The names saved in her phone contacts. Many of them were spelled phonetically or as jokes. For example, Mrs. Sullivan from the farmer’s market. She saved her as: Sue Livin, “Her vegetables are a rip-off.” Mrs. Baker from the grocery store. She saved her as: Bakes Bad, “Was mean to Chloe, never buying her stuff again.” And her best friend, Aunt Brenda. She saved her as: Brenda Bestie, “Chloe loves her, so I love her too.” Every time I saw her contact list, I wanted to laugh. But every time I saw what she named me, I wanted to cry. She wrote: Chloe Miller, “Mary’s sweet girl,” “My absolute favorite.” With three little heart emojis at the end. And now, I was holding a diary in my hands. Filled entirely with her own handwriting. There was a message on the cover. “For Chloe.” “My dearest daughter.” “If you don’t know how to live your life anymore.” “Then let Mom help you one last time.” The diary was thick. I flipped through it quickly. Every page was completely filled. And the handwriting was incredibly neat. There were no spelling mistakes, no scribbled-out words. She probably guessed it—I always hated it when my school notebooks looked messy. Naturally, I’d want a diary to be clean and tidy, too. So she must have secretly practiced for a long time. In an instant, my eyes burned. To control my emotions, I put the diary away. Then I helped my dad into the living room. And bandaged his wound. 3 2 AM. Dad had fallen asleep on the couch. I lay in my bedroom. Too afraid to open the diary. Eventually, I couldn’t take the silence. So I imitated how Mom used to be. I put on yellow rubber gloves and tied an apron around my waist. I deep-cleaned the entire house from top to bottom. Just to distract myself. I remembered, she used to do this every year a few days before Christmas. The sofa—she insisted on pulling it out to sweep up the dust bunnies underneath. The pots and pans—everything had to be scrubbed spotless. The bedsheets—we had to put on fresh, newly bought ones. She said the holidays meant a fresh start, everything had to begin anew. Whether it was something terrible or something wonderful. It was all left in the past year. A new year meant embracing new changes. She also said. Whether it’s heartbreaking or painful. Whether it’s joyful or lucky. We have to accept it all calmly. Everything must look forward. Right. I had to accept the fact that she was gone. By the time I finished cleaning the house. It was already morning. Dad still hadn’t woken up. And I had already put on a thick winter coat and headed to the store. In past years, Mom and I always went to pick out a Christmas wreath together. She would always be so picky, saying one didn’t look full enough. Or another didn’t have the right holiday spirit. It would take her half the day just to choose one. But now, standing in front of the old man selling wreaths in the parking lot. I didn’t know what to pick. They all looked exactly the same to me. A piercing, bright green and red. Especially the wooden sign that read “Home for the Holidays.” It stung my eyes. In the end, just like rushing through a homework assignment. I picked one at random. After buying it, I couldn’t help but think of her again. But this time, there was a bit of resentment. I couldn’t help but complain in my heart. Look, Mom. I haven’t grown up yet. I don’t even know how to pick out a simple wreath. It’s all your fault, leaving too early. You didn’t even have time to teach me. Later, after I walked around the market, I realized. Mom didn’t just fail to teach me how to pick out a wreath. How to buy the sweetest apples in winter. How to pick the freshest vegetables. How to haggle with the vendors. She never taught me any of it. Even the fastest route back home. She had never mentioned it. Otherwise. Why was it that the further I walked, the blurrier the road ahead became? 4 When I got home, Dad was still nursing a hangover. He saw me holding bags of groceries. And sobered up instantly. Without even putting his slippers on properly, he took the bags from my hands. After putting them down, he came back and gently rubbed my freezing, red hands. He said, “It’s all my fault, I drank too much again.” “Are you tired? Are you hungry? Should Dad make you some mac and cheese?” After he spoke, a flash of guilt crossed his eyes. I saw his mouth twitch. Then he explained. “I’m sorry, mac and cheese is the only thing Dad knows how to make.” I nodded. It was true. Dad only knew how to make mac and cheese and how to make money. Mom took care of us too well. So, after she left. Our world. Just collapsed. I shook my head and told Dad I’d already eaten a breakfast sandwich at the market. Then I went into the kitchen. Just like in the early hours of the morning. I picked up the apron. Imagining Mom’s posture. Making the dough. Slicing the apples. Baking an apple pie. I tried to keep myself as busy as possible. To make myself forget about the diary Mom left behind. It was the only piece of her I had left. I wanted to wait for a solemn, perfect moment to open it. Because it said. “For Chloe.” “My dearest daughter.” “If you don’t know how to live your life anymore.” “Then let Mom help you one last time.” I thought, I couldn’t let Mom down. I couldn’t let her know that my life was falling apart. 2 (Author’s Chapter Numbering) But, I was pathetic. That solemn, perfect moment. Just arrived without any warning. After failing to make the pie crust for the umpteenth time. I suddenly missed her like crazy. Why could she blend the flour and butter so perfectly? Yet every time I tried, it turned into a sticky, ruined mess. Why could she do everything so flawlessly. And I couldn’t even make a simple dough. Did I even deserve to be her daughter? Should I have been the one to get cancer? Should I have been the one writing a final diary? The more I thought about it, the more twisted my mind became. Until my eyes landed on the kitchen knife on the counter. My bloodshot eyes widened. I guess it was because I had been quiet for too long. Dad rushed in. He arrived just in time. I hadn’t lost too much blood yet. My consciousness was still clear. I could hear him screaming my name. I could hear the ambulance sirens. And. In a daze. I thought I heard Mom say. “Silly girl.” “How can you be so clumsy? You can’t even make a simple dough?” “Be good, Mom will teach you.” 3 That’s right. Mom. I’m too clumsy. Come back and teach me. 4 The doctor pulled my dad out into the hallway. He said I had severe depression and suicidal tendencies. Then the doctor shot me a cautious look. And pulled Dad into another room entirely. They were discussing my condition. I wondered if my dad was going to break down. His wife died of cancer. And now his daughter was severely depressed. Would it push him over the edge? I imagined him crying and venting to the doctor. But suddenly, I couldn’t feel empathy anymore. I just thought the birds outside the window looked so free. I felt a bit happy, and I smiled. At dusk. I finally couldn’t bear the weight of missing her. I opened the first page of the diary. I was afraid that if I didn’t open it now. I might never get the chance to. 5 The first page of the diary. Was Mom’s secret whisper to me. She wrote: “Chloe.” “When you heard Mom decided to stop treatment, were you really angry?” “Don’t be mad, sweetie.” “Just think of it as doing Mom a favor.” “Mom is in so much pain.” “Please don’t ignore Mom in these final days.” “Mom wants to talk to you a lot.” “Otherwise, I just can’t be at peace.” …… “Chloe.” “After you left the hospital room, Mom thought for a long time.” “It’s all my fault for spoiling you so much.” “I turned you into a little princess who doesn’t know how to do anything.” “If Mom could stay by your side forever, I wouldn’t worry at all.” “But Mom has to leave soon.” “There are things I have to teach you before I can rest.” “But I thought about it… Mom isn’t highly educated.” “The only thing I can teach you is common sense.” “Then I thought about it some more.” “Mom’s wish isn’t a big one.” “I just want you to live a good life.” “So, this diary.” “Besides expressing how much Mom loves you.” “Is also here so that, after Mom is gone.” “You can learn how to live well.” 6 Mom was right. I didn’t know how to do anything. When I was little, learning to ride a bike, other kids got it in a few days. But I was terrified the bike was too tall, and absolutely refused to get on. Mom never forced me. She said: “If you’re scared, then we won’t learn. From now on, Mom is your bicycle.” “Mom will carry you anywhere you want to go.” Later in elementary school, the neighbor’s daughter was learning ballet. When she danced, she looked like a little fairy. Mom’s eyes were full of admiration. She looked at me and asked. “Chloe, do you want to turn into a fairy too?” I cluelessly shook my head and told her I didn’t want to learn, I just wanted to play in the mud. She still didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. She just squatted down and helped me build a mud castle. She told me: “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter if Chloe can’t dance. Mom just wants Chloe to be happy in her own little world.” In middle school, my homeroom teacher called Mom in. I hid behind Mom while they discussed whether I might have autism. The teacher said: “Mrs. Miller, you should take Chloe to see a doctor. She doesn’t say a single word in class all day, it makes it very hard for us to teach her.” Mom rubbed my head, her eyes full of pride. “She doesn’t speak because she doesn’t want to speak.” “When she wants to talk, she’ll talk.” Later, throughout all of high school. I rarely ever spoke up in class. But I never felt like I was any different from anyone else. Just like Mom said. I didn’t speak because I didn’t want to. Everyone thought I was arrogant, stubborn, aloof, and completely full of myself. Doing whatever I wanted just because I had good grades. I didn’t deny it; I was definitely cocky. Because I knew, no matter what I did. She would always have my back. I always believed. That under her wings, I would go far. Fly higher. But. Suddenly, one day. God took her wings away. I lost my protection. I fell into complete panic. I felt that a life without Mom. Was just that. Not worth living. So, I started trying to find her, over and over again. I once stood on her tiptoes on a thirty-story rooftop. But a gust of wind blew me back. I also plunged into the ocean, breathlessly asking if she could take me with her. And again, a wave crashed and pushed me back onto the shore. Later, the edge of the cliff I went to, the tip of the knife I picked up. There was always a breeze beside me. Stopping me from staring into the eyes of death. I had my answer. That wind was her. And this diary she left behind. Was her broken wings. 7 For some reason, I felt it was a bit absurd. Even a little ridiculous. How should a daughter live after losing the mother she loved most? She was actually trying to teach me with a diary. Didn’t she know? I didn’t want to live at all. I just wanted to see her right now. To be held tightly in her arms.

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My mother always said, “Life is a wilderness, and the brave enjoy the world first.” True to her word, she dumped me with a nanny when I was one, spent my elementary school years chasing pop stars across the country, and traveled the globe during my high school years. She said she was herself first, and a mother second. But twenty years later, she was tired. Exhausted from a life on the road, she wanted to settle down and enjoy a peaceful retirement. She demanded I quit my high-paying job far from home and return to serve her as a dutiful daughter. I laughed and told her, “The brave enjoy the world first. I am myself first, and your daughter second.” 1 I don’t think my mother loved me. For as long as I can remember, she and my father were rarely home. I lived in a huge house with only our nanny, Mrs. Garcia. Mrs. Garcia would tell me that my parents missed me very much, but they were just too busy to keep me company. Half-understanding, I would suck my thumb and ask, “What are they busy with?” Mrs. Garcia could never really answer. She just repeated the same lines I’d heard countless times. When Mom comes back, she’ll buy you beautiful clothes. When Mom comes back, she’ll take you to eat all sorts of yummy food. When Mom comes back, you can go to the amusement park as many times as you want. When Mom comes back, she’ll hug you, kiss you, and lift you high in the air. My family wasn’t poor. In fact, in our small town, we were considered wealthy. It wasn’t until I grew up that I realized they weren’t busy making a living like most parents. They were busy chasing celebrities, traveling, seeing the world, and making charitable donations to “realize their life’s value.” Their lives were full and busy; they just didn’t have time to care for me. But as a little girl, I didn’t know any of that. I counted my birthdays, passing them one by one. When I turned eight, Mrs. Garcia had a grandson and had to return to her hometown. My mother came home. That day, I put on my favorite dress, dug out my prettiest pink hair clip, and waited, filled with a mix of excitement and anxiety. But when she saw me, my mother just frowned and snatched the clip out of my hair. “My favorite idol’s official fandom color is blue! You are not allowed to wear pink anymore!” I stared at her blankly. I didn’t know what a fandom color was. I just looked helplessly at my broken hair clip on the floor. Hidden behind my back, my small hand gripped a little pink flower I had picked for her, but I never brought it out. 2 It was the first time I had seen my mother in five years, but she was nothing like the mother I had imagined. She didn’t cook me delicious meals like the moms on TV, nor did she miss her child desperately. She didn’t cook for me. She didn’t buy me new clothes. A new McDonald’s had opened on the corner; all the other kids had been, but I still hadn’t. From start to finish, she didn’t even pat my head. She spent exactly one day making a decision: she was sending me to a boarding school. The day she left, Mrs. Garcia had picked me up from school one last time. My mother’s return had been hasty, and her departure was just as swift. She carried only a small backpack. I dropped to my knees, tears streaming down my face. “Mom, please don’t go. I’ll miss you…” I didn’t want her to leave, even though she hadn’t hugged me, hadn’t taken me to the amusement park, and hadn’t bought me ice cream. My desk mate, Chloe, had told me: “If you don’t want your mom to leave, just beg her! Moms are very soft-hearted. My mom says they can never bear to leave their babies.” Chloe said that’s how it always worked on TV. If a child knelt and cried, the mother would stay. That year, at eight years old, I learned a harsh truth: TV lies. I knelt. I cried. I clung to the hem of her skirt, my nose running, but she left anyway. She pushed me away and quickly got into the car, terrified I would hold her back. Then she rolled down the window halfway and said: “Life is a wilderness, and the brave enjoy the world first. I am myself first, and your mother second.” I was too short to even see her face. All I saw was the black exhaust and the dust kicked up by the car tires. My father, sitting in the passenger seat, didn’t leave a single word for me. Chloe’s mom was a liar too. My mom wasn’t soft-hearted, and she didn’t care about leaving her baby! 3 I became the youngest boarder at my school, and eventually, the one who had been there the longest. Soon, I entered middle school. My parents occasionally came home for a brief visit and occasionally left me some money. In our town’s middle school, many students were “left-behind children” whose parents worked in the cities. The teachers often told us that we had to study hard to make our parents’ hard work worthwhile. I acted like I didn’t care, but secretly, I sat up straighter and studied like my life depended on it. During my early teens, right in the middle of a growth spurt, I quickly developed severe hypoglycemia from chronic malnutrition. The day I fainted in class, the school administrators frantically called my mother. When she answered, her screaming could be heard throughout the entire office. It took her five days to finally show up. She found me at school and slapped me right in front of everyone: “Don’t think I don’t know you’re just doing this for attention! Hypoglycemia? Why don’t I know you have hypoglycemia?!” I lowered my head and begged, “Mom, can you please put some money on my meal card? I really don’t have any money for food. I’m so hungry…” Before I could finish, seeing parents, students, and teachers staring at us, she flew into a humiliated rage. She slapped me across the face again, her shrill voice ringing out: “When have I ever shorted your allowance?! I put two thousand dollars on your card last time! You obviously blew it all!” “Why does a girl need to eat so much anyway? Do you think looking like a fat pig is pretty?” “All you think about is eating, eating, eating! You’re clearly not focusing on your studies!” I opened my mouth, but a sob escaped first. But Mom, the last time you put money on my card was a year ago. And I’m already so skinny, my ribs are showing. I really didn’t waste a cent. I wished I could spend every penny on the biggest portions of food just to fill my stomach. To feel full, I chugged cold tap water because I didn’t even have the courage to spend a few cents to fill my thermos with hot water… 4 It was only later I found out that the day I fainted, the school’s phone call had distracted her, causing her to miss out on buying concert tickets for her favorite idol. She stormed back not out of concern for my health, but to vent her frustration. Regardless, she ended up leaving me five thousand dollars. Holding the money, I felt absolutely no joy. My mother spent tens of thousands chasing celebrities, taking photos, and dining with her idols. Meanwhile, I shivered in thin clothes at school, clutching a meal card with less than three dollars on it, not knowing where my next meal was coming from. Five thousand dollars wasn’t enough for one of my mother’s concert trips, but one dollar was enough for me to buy hot drinking water for ten days. Three dollars bought six steamed buns, enough to keep me from starving for a day. Ten dollars meant I could buy a clean, new notebook instead of erasing pencil marks until the paper tore. Thirty dollars could buy a study guide that everyone else in class already had. Fifty dollars could buy me a school uniform so I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb anymore. Money was amazing. It gave my mother wings to fly carelessly across whatever wilderness she desired. Simultaneously, it stripped away my basic needs, my dignity, and my pride. All I wanted was to live without constant anxiety. I stretched that money through my second year of middle school. By my third year, Chloe also started boarding and became my roommate. Her mother often came to school to bring her food and would tell me with a warm smile: “Oh my, I bought this shirt too small for Chloe, but it’s perfect for a skinny thing like you, Maya!” “Chloe is such a picky eater, she refuses to eat these ribs. If you don’t mind, Maya, why don’t you try my cooking?” Chloe’s mom also frequently used the excuse of having me tutor Chloe to invite me over for dinner, then slipped me “tutoring fees.” Chloe’s grades weren’t bad; in fact, we frequently fought for the number one spot in class. I obviously knew it was just an excuse. But I didn’t want to go back to that massive, empty house. It was freezing and entirely devoid of warmth. So, I shamelessly accepted the excuse and went home with Chloe. Her mom was wonderful. Plump, with a kind, genial smile and a gentle voice, very much like Mrs. Garcia. Chloe shared half her small bed with me. At night, she hugged her stuffed sheep, and I hugged her arm. The small lamp on her nightstand cast a warm, yellow glow. It felt incredibly safe and comforting. Her dad was great too. One day, I overheard Chloe’s parents talking. While cooking, her mom said, “She’s so young, right in the middle of growing, and so well-behaved. How can her mother be so cruel…” “For a little girl, she sure can eat a lot in one sitting…” My heart leaped into my throat. I knew I ate large portions, and I always tried to control myself. But I was so terrified of being hungry that whenever I saw that much food, I just couldn’t stop. Then her dad continued: “If she’s eating that much in one sitting, she’s definitely been starving for a long time. Make sure you steam the rice a bit softer and cook some richer, meatier dishes to help her build her strength back up.” I let out a massive breath I didn’t know I was holding, tears instantly springing to my eyes. How I wished this was my home. How I wished these were my parents. No one had ever taught me what love was, but I figured having a full stomach and warm clothes was probably it. I finally believed Chloe’s mom wasn’t a liar. Moms were soft-hearted. It was just my mom who was different. 5 During the summer before high school, my mother gave birth to a little boy. They named him Leo. The moment my brother was born, my mother took him to see the sunrise in Paris and the sunset in London. Every time they reached a new destination, my mother would post on social media. In the photos, my brother laughed joyfully as my parents kissed his chubby cheeks. It was sweet and heartwarming. They lit up every corner of the globe for my brother, declaring him their one and only treasure. And me? The meticulous care, the soft whispers, the attention my mother showered on my brother—I had never received any of it. I pretended not to care as I navigated through the crowds of supportive parents to enter the high school placement exam center. But the traditional longevity lock they bought for him didn’t work. My brother died later that year from a severe, sudden fever. I didn’t know the details; I only knew that my mother went quiet for a while and stopped traveling. But my life didn’t change much. I was still as poor and isolated as ever. After surviving for two months, when I was completely out of money again, I finally worked up the courage to dial her number. My mother shrieked into the phone: “Money, money, money! Is that all you know how to ask for?! Why don’t you just go die?! Why was it your brother who died and not you?!” Beep. She hung up. I held the phone to my ear for a long time. Even though I knew she might not give me anything, the venom in her words still pierced me. What kind of mother uses the most vicious curses on her own child? What kind of mother wishes her own child were dead? Mine did. Yet, despite the fact that I only ever called to ask for money, not a single cent was ever added to my meal card. High school was different from middle school; the expenses were much higher. Fortunately, back then, the application process for financial aid wasn’t as strict. The teachers, aware of my situation, secured a spot for me. Relying on that stipend, I scraped by through my freshman year.

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The year I turned thirty, I decided to resign. This secret, one-sided love affair of mine had finally reached its end. I had spent five years climbing the ranks from a lowly assistant to Alexander Sterling’s executive secretary, and another three years making myself utterly indispensable to him. In the end, it took me exactly five minutes to write my resignation letter, and one second to hit send. 1 When I handed in the hard copy of my resignation, Alexander’s brows furrowed slightly. He looked up, his gaze settling on me in a quiet, deliberate stare. “Give me a reason.” I lowered my head, avoiding his eyes, and forced the most genuine smile I could muster. “Mr. Sterling, I’m thirty this year. It’s time for me to settle down.” I paused for a moment, then added, “My boyfriend recently proposed.” To ensure a smooth exit, I told a harmless lie. Alexander’s index finger began tapping rhythmically against his mahogany desk—a telltale sign that he was extremely irritated. Perhaps I should consider myself lucky. At least he wasn’t completely indifferent to my departure. After a long silence, Alexander slid the resignation letter back across the desk to me. “I can approve an extended PTO for your wedding, but I expect you to seriously reconsider resigning.” For a split second, I wavered. A seductive voice whispered incessantly in the back of my mind: Agree to it. Just say yes. At least you’ll still get to see him every day. But another voice sternly warned me: Emma, he’s getting engaged. Harboring a crush on a soon-to-be married man is crossing a line. My hand hovered in the air for a long time, but ultimately, I didn’t take the paper back. “This job is too demanding. After I get married, I want to focus more on my family.” “I will ensure all my current projects are fully transitioned before I go. I’m sorry, Mr. Sterling.” Having pushed the conversation this far, Alexander stopped arguing. He replied coldly, “Understood. Happy wedding.” Before I even left his office, he had already buried his head back in his paperwork. After all, to him, I was just a subordinate. The most useful one, perhaps, but just an employee nonetheless. 2 Later that day, I sat at my desk, staring blankly at the potted succulent next to my monitor. It was rare for me to zone out like this. My daily routine was usually a whirlwind, juggling the coordination of corporate affairs while simultaneously acting as Alexander’s personal assistant. My phone was on twenty-four-seven. Whenever Alexander needed me, I had to be there instantly. I did the work of three people combined. Of course, Alexander paid me a highly lucrative salary. Over the years, I had achieved complete financial freedom. “Emma? Emma!” Chloe, the junior assistant, called my name a few times before I finally snapped back to reality. “Mr. Sterling said to remind you to head over to the venue early tonight to make sure everything is set up for the welcome party.” Tonight’s gathering was to welcome Carter Brooks, who had just returned from studying abroad in Europe. The guest list consisted exclusively of Alexander’s inner circle. They were the young heirs of the city’s most elite old-money families. Filthy rich, deeply privileged, and with standards higher than the sky. Logically, an outsider like me shouldn’t have been welcome in their circle. But there was no helping it—I was simply too useful. People who can cater to everyone’s specific moods and preferences, orchestrating a flawless party without a single hiccup, are incredibly rare. As soon as I arrived at the venue, I hit the ground running. From the catering to the cocktails to the appetizers, I double-checked every young heir’s dietary restrictions and preferences. “Remove all the lilies from the centerpieces. Harrison is allergic.” “Keep the ambient lighting dim. Leo just had laser eye surgery.” “Make sure the bartender has that specific Kentucky bourbon Carter loves.” As the sun fully set and the sky darkened, the guests began to trickle in. Tristan Vance was the first to arrive. Seeing me, he gave a casual wave. “When is Alex getting here?” I checked my watch and gave a precise answer: “He had a late conference call. Give him about an hour.” Tristan collapsed onto the velvet sofa, looking lethargic, with dark circles under his eyes from sheer exhaustion. I signaled the staff to lower the music slightly and grabbed a throw blanket, handing it to him. “The autumn air is getting crisp, don’t catch a cold. You have some time before the others arrive, get some rest.” He chuckled, taking the blanket, and teased, “Honestly, Emma, you really should consider dumping Alex and coming to work for me. I’ll double whatever he’s paying you.” For men like them, there were always countless people trying to kiss their boots. That made my demeanor stand out. Because I wanted nothing from them, I interacted with them naturally and openly. Ironically, that earned their respect. Playing along, I smiled and replied, “I’ll keep that in mind. If I’m ever out of a job, I’ll be counting on you to take me in, Tristan.” 3 As the night deepened and the streetlights flickered on, the rest of the group finally arrived. Alexander walked in wearing a tailored black trench coat, bringing a wisp of the chilling autumn air with him. I took his coat, thinking to myself that this might be the very last time I’d do this. When the drinks were flowing and everyone was in high spirits, I found the right moment to announce my resignation. I had received a lot of grace from these men over the years. I stood up and raised my glass. “I’m officially stepping down from my position. When I first started, I was clueless and made plenty of mistakes. Thank you all for your patience over the years!” “It’s a big world out there, but I hope our paths cross again someday.” Perhaps it was the melancholy of the autumn season, but a sudden heaviness settled over the dining table. It was Tristan who finally raised his glass toward me from across the table, breaking the awkward silence. “You know, in the beginning, I always thought you had some hidden agenda regarding Alex. It’s only right now that I actually believe you didn’t.” Everyone at the table silently understood what Tristan meant. After all, Alexander’s previous secretaries had all been fired for confessing their feelings to him. Later, Alexander started exclusively hiring male secretaries, only to get confessed to by them as well. Since then, he had earned a reputation as an untouchable heartthrob. Someone clapped Alexander on the shoulder and joked, “Didn’t expect that, did you? Someone is actually immune to your charm.” Alexander casually lit a cigar, laughing as he shot back, “Shut up.” After dinner, a few of them set up a poker table to kill time. Halfway through the game, Tristan casually asked, “Alex, your grandmother arranged that marriage with the Kensington girl for you, right? Have you even met her yet?” My heart skipped a beat. The hand I was using to pour water froze in mid-air. After a moment, Alexander replied indifferently, “No. As long as the old lady is happy. Marrying one woman is the same as marrying another.” For people in their echelon, marriage was always a transaction mixed with corporate interests and endless calculations. In a way, they enjoyed wealth and resources normal people couldn’t even fathom; paying a price for it seemed fair. It seemed Alexander had already accepted the rules of the game. I had met Olivia Kensington once. A true Southern belle, gentle and sweet. She was a good girl. If possible, I truly wanted Alexander to have a happy ending, different from the cold marriages of his peers. 4 The gathering lasted late into the night. Chauffeurs had been waiting outside, and as the party broke up, the heirs were quickly whisked away. Only Alexander’s driver had run into a minor fender-bender on the way, making him late. This led to the exact scenario I dreaded the most: being completely alone with him. We stood side-by-side under a streetlight, our shadows stretching long across the pavement. Whenever this happened, all my buried resentment and dark, selfish thoughts would threaten to bubble to the surface. But Alexander knew nothing. He just stood there quietly, the alcohol making him seem slightly less sharp and intimidating than usual. Soon, his driver finally pulled up. Alexander turned to look at me, asking with gentlemanly courtesy, “Need a ride?” I shook my head, flashing a grateful but adequately distanced smile. “Thank you, Mr. Sterling. But my fiancé is already on his way.” Alexander didn’t press the issue. He gave a slight nod and slid into the backseat of the luxury sedan. The world was finally empty, leaving just me. The heavy, suffocating mask I wore all day could finally be ripped off. I kicked off my stilettos without a care and slumped onto the edge of a concrete planter, feeling a rare wave of absolute lostness. For a moment, I honestly didn’t know where I was supposed to go. Soon after, a light drizzle began to fall. The first autumn rain cut right to the bone, cold and damp. I walked barefoot along the sidewalk. This was a gated, ultra-rich neighborhood, so I had to walk a long way before I could finally find a spot to hail a cab. … The main road Alexander usually took was under construction tonight. The driver didn’t know, so they had to detour back out. Alexander didn’t expect to see Emma again, standing by the road in the freezing rain, a pair of heels dangling casually from one hand. He was mildly surprised. He never imagined that his usually stoic, flawless executive secretary had such an… unkempt side. Every time he saw her at the office, she was always in a crisp, tailored suit, buttoned all the way to the top. He had seen plenty of women strategically unbutton their blouses and ‘accidentally’ lean over his desk. Emma was the exception. That was why he promoted her—first, for her sheer competence, and second, because she knew her boundaries. As they were about to drive past her, his driver asked from the front seat, “Sir, should we offer Ms. Hayes a ride?” Alexander’s eyes remained entirely unreadable. He answered simply, “No.” He had already formed a very poor opinion of her so-called fiancé. Emma was a brilliant woman, but apparently, she had terrible taste in men. Still, matters of the heart were personal. It wasn’t his place to interfere. 5 I wasn’t sure if I saw Alexander’s car pass by. It was just a blur in the rain, maybe my mind was playing tricks on me. Taxis rarely frequented this upscale neighborhood, so my driver had to come from far away. I stood there until my legs were entirely numb before my ride finally showed up. By the time I got home, it was two or three in the morning. The entire house was dead silent. To the outside world, I projected the image of a woman with a happy family, a loving fiancé, and a vibrant social life. People would often look at me with envy and say: You have the perfect life. But the truth was, I had nothing. No family, no lover, no friends. When I was in middle school, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Stage three. She had a mastectomy, but less than six months later, it came back. One completely ordinary morning, my dad walked out the door for work and never came back. He emptied our bank accounts, leaving behind my dying mother and his underage daughter. Upon hearing the news, my mom was unusually calm. She quietly went through chemotherapy, stayed in the hospital, and on her good days, she would cook for me. One evening, I came home from school to find a table full of food. She sat across from me, smiling brightly. For some reason, a wave of sheer terror washed over me. When I leaned in, the food had a strange, bitter chemical smell. I suddenly remembered the brand-new bottle of rat poison she had bought for the bathroom. That was the first time I realized how terrifyingly strong my mother’s grip was. No matter how hard I thrashed, I couldn’t break free. A desperate will to live gave me the adrenaline to wrench myself from her grasp. I ran blindly, somehow ending up on the roof of our apartment building. My mother followed, crying, her arms wide open, babbling incoherently. “Emma, this world is too cruel. Mommy can’t bear to leave you here all alone.” “Come with me. We can be mother and daughter again in the next life.” I cried too. I was so exhausted, and I missed the comforting smell of laundry detergent in my mom’s hugs. Maybe this is it, I thought. Living isn’t that great anyway. The wind on the roof was howling that night, but my mother’s embrace was so warm. She held my hand, leading us step by step toward the ledge. Just as we were about to fall, a pair of thin, strong hands grabbed me. He pulled me back with everything he had, refusing to let go no matter how much I struggled. Swirling in the wind, all I could clearly see was a pair of strikingly bright eyes. I survived. My mother did not. That boy was Alexander Sterling. He not only saved my life, but he gave me a reason to keep living— To repay my debt to him. I felt like I had betrayed my mother. Back then, I was like a drowning person, desperate to grab onto any piece of driftwood. Alexander was that driftwood. When the fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances arrived, amidst the chaotic crowd, I grabbed his hand and looked up at him. “How can I repay you?” I still remember how the sixteen-year-old Alexander looked down at me and said with absolute sincerity: “Just remember to come find me.” My life had been trapped on the night my mother died. Alexander was the only thing I had to look forward to.

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Seven years ago, Carter and I broke up because we were from two completely different worlds. Seven years later, I’m a corporate executive pulling in a million dollars a year. And Carter? After a devastating bankruptcy, he’s reduced to delivering takeout. Looking at the incredibly handsome man standing in front of me, I casually slid a bank card across the table. “Ten thousand a month. I’m keeping you.” Looking thoroughly humiliated, Carter pocketed the card. The day after he moved into my penthouse, I accidentally overheard him on the phone: “I’m too busy. Don’t bother me with a tiny fifty-million-dollar project.” 1 I never expected my reunion with Carter Hayes to be this dramatic. “Your delivery, ma’am.” Carter was holding the paper bag with one hand, the impatient look on his face slowly fading. He narrowed his eyes, looking me up and down a few times before asking in disbelief, “Chloe?” I stared up at him, completely stunned. Seven years later, and he was still drop-dead gorgeous. Somehow, he made that bright neon delivery jacket look like a piece of high-end runway couture on his broad shoulders and long legs. Earlier this year, I heard some college alumni gossiping that Carter’s family had gone bankrupt. I hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time. A starving camel is still bigger than a horse, as they say. No matter how bad things got for the Hayes family, they’d still be miles ahead of normal people like us. It wasn’t my place to pity him. But I never imagined he’d be reduced to delivering food. He graduated from an Ivy League school. He had the face of a supermodel. He could get any job in the world—so why this? Carter, how have you been all these years? Are you married? Do you have kids? A thousand questions swirled in my head, but what actually came out of my mouth was: “You’re late.” Carter froze, then let out a soft laugh, his eyes curving into familiar crescents. “Chloe Adams. It’s been years, and you’re still as ruthless as ever.” I just looked at him in silence. I got it. I understood completely. The golden boy had fallen from grace, only to be caught at his absolute lowest by his ex-girlfriend. Aside from using humor to deflect the crushing awkwardness, what else could he do? 2 “You have an order running late. Please deliver immediately.” The automated voice from the phone clipped to his chest shattered my thoughts. Frowning, he pulled out his phone and ruthlessly powered it off. I was shocked by his reckless indifference. “I heard you get penalized for late deliveries. You’re going to lose a lot of money doing that. How are you going to feed your wife and kids?” Carter casually shoved the phone into his pocket. “I only have to feed myself. Nobody else is starving.” Oh. So he was still single. My eyes slowly drifted down from his face, eventually landing on his stomach. After all these years, were those abs still as perfectly sculpted as before? Last month, I went to a holistic wellness clinic because my hormones were a wreck. The doctor told me I needed a boyfriend. He said my stress levels were through the roof from being single too long. He told me that if I couldn’t find a man, I should at least spend time looking at handsome guys to boost my serotonin. Well, look what the universe dragged in. “Chloe, you’re drooling.” I panicked and scrubbed at the corner of my mouth with my sleeve, only to realize he was messing with me. Watching my flustered, embarrassed reaction, his chest rumbled with laughter until tears literally formed in his eyes. “Chloe, you’re adorable.” Adorable? Adorable my foot! Humiliation flared into anger, and suddenly, all the bitter memories of our toxic breakup came rushing back. 3 Carter and I were college sweethearts. He kept a low profile on campus. He never flashed his wealth. It wasn’t until right before graduation that I realized his family was astronomically rich. He had invited me to his family’s estate for dinner. I had spent months of my internship salary to buy what I thought were thoughtful, premium gifts. His mother took one look, tossed them to the housekeeper, and sneered that not even their staff would eat such low-grade trash. She told the maid to donate it to some poor relatives in the country. Then, Carter’s sister pulled out a photograph and informed me that their family was arranging a marriage for him. In two months, the gorgeous heiress in the photo would be his fiancée. “Don’t worry, my brother is very generous,” his sister had smirked. “He’ll give you a nice little severance package before he dumps you.” I was young back then. I had nothing to my name except my fragile pride and self-esteem. By the time Carter chased me out the door, I was already gone. I blocked his number and deleted him from my life. After the breakup, I went through the darkest period of my life. My best friend couldn’t stand seeing me cry every day, so she went to confront Carter. But he was ice-cold. He told her he had misjudged me. That killed whatever hope I had left. I poured every ounce of my soul into my career. Men will betray you, but work won’t. The time and energy you put into your career always pays off. Case in point: my life right now. Remembering how his family humiliated me made my blood boil. Anger fueled my audacity. I turned around, marched into my apartment, and grabbed a pristine black card from my designer bag. I held it out to him, my chin raised in absolute arrogance. “Carter, running deliveries all day probably barely pays the rent, right?” “Why don’t you work for me? I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars a month. What do you say?” 4 Carter didn’t say a word. He just stared at my manicured fingers holding the card. Just as my arm was starting to ache, he lowered his head and gave a response so soft I almost missed it. “Okay.” Seeing him look so defeated, so fragile—like a broken piece of glass—made my own heart crack a little. Ten thousand! That was ten thousand dollars a month! I only wanted to insult him! Why did he agree?! Wasn’t he supposed to slap the card away, quote some alpha-male movie line about earning his way back to the top, and storm off?! God knows what I sacrificed to hit a million-dollar salary. And that was before taxes. After the IRS, 401k, and insurance took their cut, I was taking home maybe fifty thousand a month. Giving him ten grand was a massive hit! My fingers were trembling slightly. Carter tried to slide the card from my grip, failing three times because I was holding on so tight. “Chloe, do you actually not have the money?” He looked amused, the corners of his perfectly sculpted lips curling into a mocking smirk. I really wanted to admit I was just trying to flex. But my ego absolutely refused. I let go of the card and tossed my hair over my shoulder. “Do a good job. If you serve me well, I’ll double your salary.” Carter walked away with my card, wearing the most complicated expression I had ever seen. He didn’t just take my card. He took my peace of mind. I made a vow. No matter how well he performed, I was going to find a flaw. In exactly one month, I would fire him for “poor service.” That way, I only lose ten grand. Yeah, that’s manageable. Not too bad. 5 “Where is he?!” “Where are you hiding him?!” My best friend, Zoe, burst into my apartment wearing fuzzy pajama pants, her hair a bird’s nest, and a sheet mask still plastered to her face. I put my phone down and rolled my eyes. “You got here fast.” I had literally texted her about Carter five minutes ago. She lived across town. It was a twenty-minute drive with zero traffic. “Stop stalling, where’s the eye candy?!” “He left. He’s moving in tomorrow night.” Zoe hopped over to me like an overcaffeinated bunny and wiggled her eyebrows. “So, how are you going to humiliate him? Handcuffs? Whips? Blindfolds?” “Maybe a French maid outfit for men?” A male maid outfit? What did that even look like? Just a tiny apron over an eight-pack of abs? Picturing Carter’s normally cold, untouchable face while wearing nothing but a frilly apron made my entire body flush. A sudden, familiar cramp hit my lower stomach. I shoved Zoe’s masked face away and sprinted for the bathroom. A long moment later, I groaned from behind the door. “Zoe… I got my period.” “I don’t think I have any tampons left, can you run to the drugstore?” Zoe poked her head into the doorway, her eyes wide with awe. “Oh my god.” “If I recall correctly, your stress was so bad you haven’t had a period in two months, right?” “The doctors couldn’t fix your hormones, but one look at Carter Hayes and the dam breaks?! Wild!” I grabbed a roll of toilet paper and lobbed it at her head. “Get out!” 6 The doorbell woke me up at the crack of dawn. I stood at the door in my oversized t-shirt, staring dumbfounded at a row of massive luxury suitcases. Carter raised an eyebrow and flashed me a dazzling smile. “Good morning, sugar mama.” I grabbed his wrist, staring in horror at the incredibly expensive Patek Philippe on his arm. “It’s six in the morning, dude!” “This watch is a fake, a really good replica—” We spoke at the exact same time. Carter pulled his wrist back, smoothly took off the watch, and stuffed it into his pocket. “Didn’t you say my salary would double if I performed well? I’m just showing initiative.” Despicable! Using my own words against me! Carter pushed his luggage inside and casually strolled straight into my master bedroom. When I realized he was about to start hanging his clothes in my closet, I lunged forward. “What do you think you’re doing?” He blinked at me, the picture of innocence. “Didn’t you say I was supposed to serve you?” “If we don’t sleep in the same bed, how am I supposed to serve you?” He leaned down and whispered those last few words right in my ear, his voice dropping an octave into a gravelly purr. “Y-You—” My face burned. I couldn’t believe how low he had sunk. To make a quick buck, he was actually trying to seduce me! Life must have been incredibly hard on him these past few years. The untouchable prince finally learned the value of a dollar. “Your room is down the hall. I prefer sleeping alone.” Carter grabbed his suitcases and walked away, his broad back looking distinctly disappointed. Disappointed? I’m definitely overthinking this. 7 Carter was very self-aware. He unpacked his things and immediately went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Leaning against the doorframe, watching his broad shoulders move around the kitchen, four words popped into my head: Peace and quiet. For years, I had been married to my job, working insane overtime hours. Whenever I came home, the apartment always felt cold and sterile. Sometimes, when I was dead on my feet, I’d fantasize about coming home to someone having a hot meal waiting for me. I didn’t expect to achieve that dream so quickly. Even if the price tag was a bit steep. Thinking about that $10,000 monthly retainer made my heart bleed. I made up my mind: No matter how good the food was, I was going to tell him it tasted like garbage! “Stop staring at me and go wash your face.” Carter stepped out of the kitchen and nudged me toward the bathroom. “Wait, I think I smell something burning.” He grabbed my chin, gently turning my head forward, his expression deadpan. “That’s just your imagination.” It was definitely my imagination. When I came out dressed for work, I stared in shock at the absolute feast spread across my dining table. Perfectly poached eggs benedict, thick-cut bacon, fluffy buttermilk pancakes, avocado toast with microgreens, fresh fruit parfaits, and steaming artisan coffee. A five-star hotel buffet couldn’t compete with this. “Y-You made all this?” He nodded, pulling out a chair for me like a gentleman. “Taste it.” I took a bite of the eggs benedict. The hollandaise was incredibly rich, the egg yolk perfectly runny, and the English muffin toasted to a crisp perfection. One word: Divine! “It’s alright. A bit basic, but it’s edible.” 8 The light in Carter’s eyes died. He lowered his gaze, looking genuinely hurt, his voice soft. “Really? I guess I need to work harder.” I aggressively shoved a pancake into my mouth so I wouldn’t accidentally blurt out a compliment to comfort him. Ten thousand dollars! Hold the line, Chloe! Usually, my appetite was nonexistent during this time of the month. But the food was so good I ate until I was stuffed, patting my stomach happily as I grabbed my purse for work. Before I left, I made sure to order him to deep-clean the apartment. This is what happens when you grow up poor. You starve yourself before a buffet to get your money’s worth. If I was paying for a kept man, he was going to be my chef, maid, driver, bodyguard, and eye candy combined. Every penny had to be maximized! Carter nodded obediently, walking me to the door like he didn’t want me to leave. “Come home early, Chloe. I’ll be waiting for you.” He sounded like a devoted 1950s housewife. I practically skipped to the elevator, feeling energized for the workday. Just as the doors opened, I patted my pocket and realized I left my phone on the counter. I hurried back, pushed the front door open, and heard Carter on a phone call. “I’m too busy. Don’t bother me with a tiny fifty-million-dollar project.” He opened the door wider as he spoke, catching me mid-snoop, my ear practically pressed against the air. We locked eyes. The silence was deafening. To break the awkwardness, I decided to go on the offensive. “Ooooh, a tiny fifty-million-dollar project! Big shot!” Carter slowly lowered his phone, looking at me with an expression that screamed ‘I don’t even know where to begin.’ I snatched my phone off the entryway table and waved at him. “Off to work! Bye, Mr. Fifty Million!” I guess when rich people go broke, they cope by playing pretend. Zoe and I used to play the same game when we were broke college kids. Thinking about Carter’s flustered face put me in an amazing mood.

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My novel about a secret high school crush went totally viral, and the film rights were snapped up almost immediately. Then, Cole Sterling—an Oscar-winning actor who had stepped away from Hollywood for years—suddenly dropped a bombshell on Twitter, announcing he was taking the male lead. The internet exploded. Netizens quickly dug up the fact that Cole had a “one that got away” back in high school. And the rising “It girl” cast as the female lead? She just so happened to graduate from Westbridge High, too. Overnight, the shippers lost their minds. The whole internet was waiting for this “second-chance romance” novel to bleed into reality. At the press conference, a reporter deliberately asked: “Mr. Sterling, if you had to choose a word to describe our leading lady, what would it be? An angel? A muse?” Cole suddenly raised his eyes, looked directly at me standing in the wings, and said coldly: “A liar.” “Excuse me?” The reporter froze. Cole calmly looked away. “I said, she’s a liar.” 1 The table read. “In the original book, the two leads clearly love each other. Why did they have a tragic ending?” someone whispered at the table. Cole’s fingertips traced heavily over the script page. He spoke coldly. “I’m quite curious about that myself.” I looked up in shock, then quickly lowered my head. Cole didn’t push the question. His gaze returned to the script. I shifted further into the corner, clutching my phone, trying to make myself invisible. Twitter was melting down. Under the trending hashtags #ColeSterlingReturns and #SecondChanceCast, a blurry high school yearbook photo was being reposted thousands of times. In the photo, a seventeen-year-old Cole was ignoring the camera, his intense gaze fixed on a specific spot off-screen. And in that blurry, out-of-focus corner of the frame was the slender back of a teenage girl. “This is definitely not a coincidence! Cole and Sierra Fontaine both went to Westbridge High!” “I remember Sierra had short hair in high school! That girl has to be her.” “Fiction becoming reality! I’m screaming, I ship them so hard.” The assistant director sitting next to me nudged my elbow, winking like a gossip. “Are you shipping them too?” “No, I just happened to see it on my timeline…” “Wait, I just remembered you went to Westbridge High too! Tell me, did the A-lister really have a crush on a girl back then?” I quietly locked my phone screen and looked up. “Cole and I… we weren’t close.” Right at that moment, the director called cut. Cole lifted his heavy eyelids. Across the crowded room, his eyes locked onto mine. The director hesitated. “Cole, your energy is a bit off here. This is their big reunion scene. The way you look at the female lead should be a mix of love and burning resentment… Harper, wouldn’t you agree?” I hurriedly looked away and cleared my throat. “Yes.” “Harper, as the screenwriter, I feel the emotional beat here is wrong,” Cole smirked, but his eyes were pure ice. “Why don’t you teach me?” Everyone’s eyes slammed into me. The director chimed in: “Sierra’s flight was delayed, she’s not here yet. Harper, why don’t you stand in and run the lines with him?” “I don’t think that’s appropriate. I don’t know how to act.” I waved my hands, forcing an awkward smile. Cole spoke flatly, “I have an interview tonight. I’m on a tight schedule.” Eager to please him, the director shoved my shoulder, urging me up with his eyes. I was forced to stand. Cole instantly closed the distance between us. The script clearly said the male lead grabs the female lead’s wrist. Instead, his hand clamped around the back of my neck. He pulled me in, whispering harshly against my ear: “When you dumped me, you didn’t have this pathetic look on your face, did you?” “If I recall correctly, you were smiling.” My breath hitched. The script slipped from my hands, hitting the floor with a smack. Maybe the AC was turned too low, but I felt my entire body trembling. “Why did you leave back then?” He pulled back slightly, his dialogue completely deviating from the script. “Answer me!” Cole pinned me against the wall, his hands slamming on either side of my head. His knuckles were white from the force. His chest was heaving as if a fire was burning through his ribs. My heart stuttered. My eyelashes fluttered wildly. “I’m sorry…” Cole’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He forcibly swallowed the emotions that were threatening to tear his chest apart. “I’m only going to ask you one thing.” “Did you ever actually love me?” he gritted out, his eyes rimmed red. The room held its breath. The director yelled from the monitors: “Yes! That’s the energy! Hold onto that, Cole!” I opened my mouth, my throat bone-dry. “I…” The red light on the camera suddenly flipped on. The heavy doors swung open, and Sierra Fontaine walked in with her entourage. The courage I had just mustered to speak was instantly shattered. “I am so sorry I’m late!” Sierra chimed. “I bought artisanal lattes for everyone to make up for it!” The director pulled off his headphones. “Alright, we’ll stop there for now. That take was absolutely perfect!” The crew cheered and swarmed the new arrivals. I was still frozen against the wall, my chest hollow. Cole suddenly chuckled. His thumb casually brushed against the small red birthmark on the side of my neck. Back in high school, he always joked that even in our next life, he would be able to find me by this exact mark. Now, his warm breath fanned across that very spot. “Screenwriter Harper.” “Acting like that feels much more real, doesn’t it?” I snapped back to reality and sluggishly took a half-step back. “You? You look so familiar.” Sierra’s gaze stopped the moment it swept over me. “Have we met before?” I stared back at her. “A long time ago. Yes.” “Oh, I’m so sorry, I must have forgotten.” Sierra shrugged, not caring in the slightest. “Want a latte? It’s hot.” She casually grabbed a cup and handed it to me. I instinctively flinched, pulling my neck back. My face went chalk-white. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked. “I’m fine. Just been standing too long.” “Make sure you get some rest! If you need any meds, just ask my assistant. My trailer is fully stocked.” She turned her back to me, pulled a separate insulated bag from her assistant, and walked toward Cole with a bright smile. “Your coffee. The usual. Cold brew, no ice.” Just a few words, but it practically screamed intimacy. “Thanks.” As Cole stepped back to take it, I caught sight of the diamond ring on Sierra’s ring finger. It was the exact same design as the one the paparazzi had caught Cole buying at a luxury jeweler just days ago. The assistant director leaned over to me, letting out a suppressed squeal and shaking my shoulders. “That coffee shop is all the way downtown! The line takes two hours minimum. O-M-G. Her flight was delayed and she still went out of her way to get him his specific drink!” “Harper! I knew my ship was real.” “Tell me the truth, are they the inspiration for your novel? At the press con, he already admitted he’s the male lead. Stop keeping us in suspense!” I lowered my eyes and said softly, “If I told you the female lead was actually based on me, would you believe it?” The AD let out a loud “Ha!” “Harper, I didn’t know you were one of his delusional fangirls!” “No wonder you don’t ship them.” I watched their matching silhouettes under the studio spotlights, suddenly grateful I hadn’t blurted out the truth in the heat of the moment. The gap between us was too vast. Even the truth sounded like a pathetic joke. “Well, at least you got to meet your crush. Oh, right, what did Cole mean at the press conference when he called you a liar? Was that just a PR stunt to build hype?” I took a deep breath, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. “He… wasn’t lying.” Ten years ago, I really was the one who lied to him first. 2 Sierra had to reshoot a drowning scene. “A stunt double?” The director frowned. “This is the climax where the female lead gets bullied. We need your face…” Sierra’s manager immediately changed her tune. “Director, Sierra is getting her period soon. Putting her in freezing water for the next two days will be agonizing for her.” “But we didn’t prep a water stunt double. Finding one now will put us behind schedule.” Sierra tugged on her assistant’s hand and turned to the director. “Director, my manager is just worried about me, please forgive her tone.” “How about this? I’ll suck it up and do the close-ups in the water.” Sierra looked me up and down. “For the wide shots of the actual drowning, let the screenwriter stand in for me. She’s the only one here with a similar build.” Her manager chimed in coldly. “Director, Cole only signed onto this project for Sierra. If she gets sick, can you take responsibility?” Classic good cop, bad cop. The director looked torn. “I still need to ask Harper if she’s comfortable with it.” Sierra smiled sweetly at me. “Please, Harper? Pretty please?” “I heard you helped run lines with Cole the other day. Why won’t you help me? Aww, are you trying to isolate me?” “I’m sorry, I’m not a trained professional. Going on camera isn’t appropriate.” “It’s fine, it’s just a wide shot. I’ll teach you!” Sierra stood up from her director’s chair. She approached me with a beaming smile—and suddenly shoved me hard in the chest. Caught completely off guard, I lost my balance and plunged backward into the pool. The deep autumn water felt like a million icy needles. The moment I went under, the memory overlapped with that day I was seventeen, being violently shoved into the deep end of the high school pool. Blind panic swallowed me whole. I thrashed wildly, but my limbs felt bound by invisible ropes, heavy and useless. Water rushed in from everywhere, filling my nose, ears, and throat. Sierra’s delighted laughter grew muffled and distorted. The director realized something was wrong and signaled the lifeguard, but Sierra stopped him. “Wow, she’s such a good actress!” “It looks so real!” The world blurred. The light cutting through the surface of the water shattered like broken glass across my vision. Right as I was on the brink of suffocating… Sierra grabbed a fistful of my hair and hauled my head above the surface. She leaned in close to my ear and smiled. “Don’t think I don’t know what you cheap sluts are plotting.” “Stay away from Cole.” “Or next time, I’ll actually kill you.” My lungs burned like they were on fire. I coughed violently, unable to string a single word together. “Harper, are you okay?” Sierra shoved my head back under the water, giggling. “Director, don’t yell cut! You’ll ruin her performance. Let’s get one more take for safety!” I sucked in a desperate breath, grabbed her wrists with both hands, and yanked her down into the pool with me. “Help—” Sierra tried to scream, but only spat out a string of bubbles. “Quick, the life preserver!” “Sierra can’t swim!” “Somebody help! Sierra’s drowning!” The crew on the deck erupted into chaos. I locked my arms around Sierra and refused to let go. Over the frantic footsteps, I heard a crew member’s shocked voice: “Why is Mr. Sterling back from his press tour early?” “Wait, Cole, you can’t jump in!” Sierra kicked me hard. “Cole, I’m over here—!” The heel of her designer boot dug into my stomach. A piercing pain shot through me. I sank deeper, my consciousness slipping away into the dark. 3 The sharp smell of antiseptic invaded my nose. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the champagne-gold curtains of Cole’s private trailer. “You’re awake?” He immediately reached out to check my forehead. “Your fever hasn’t broken. I’ll have the set medic come back.” “Don’t bother.” I tried to sit up, only to realize his other hand was pinning down my right wrist—the one with the IV drip. Right over the faded, circular burn scar left by Sierra putting out a cigarette on my skin years ago. “The doctor said you have old injuries all over your body. Not just this one.” He suddenly spoke. “What exactly happened back then?” My breathing stopped. My memory rewound to that suffocating, humid afternoon. Curled up inside a metal locker in the girls’ changing room, counting the slivers of light coming through the vents, listening to Sierra and her squad discuss how they were going to “teach me a lesson” in the deep end of the pool. Cole’s crucial Juilliard audition was in two days. Because of that, I chose to hide my soaked, ruined uniform at the very bottom of my backpack and say nothing. “You’re overthinking it.” I heard my own voice trembling. The air in the trailer instantly froze. Cole aggressively grabbed my chin, his grip so tight it felt like he might shatter the bone. A dark storm raged in his eyes. The calm, refined facade he wore for the public completely shattered. “Harper Ellis, what the hell do you take me for?” I looked at the shiny new ring impression on his ring finger and suddenly let out a laugh. I laughed so hard the salty taste of tears slid into the corner of my mouth. “In what capacity are you interrogating me right now, Mr. Sterling? My ex-boyfriend? Someone else’s fiancé? Or an A-list actor handing out charity?” His pupils contracted sharply. “What the hell are you talking about?” The moment he let go of my chin, the trailer door burst open. “Cole!” Sierra rushed in, wrapped in a plush blanket, pathetic, beautiful tears hanging from her lashes. “I thought I was never going to see you again…” The diamond ring on her finger caught the light, stinging my retinas. “Why did the screenwriter drag me into the water?” She exposed the purpling bruises on her pale arms. “Did I do something wrong? Did I make her mad?” “Security footage,” I interrupted her sobbing. “The set has 24-hour surveillance.” Sierra’s crying abruptly stopped. She stared at me for a few seconds, then grabbed a fruit knife from the counter, held it to her wrist, and looked at Cole with tear-soaked eyes. “The camera in that area has been broken for days. Harper knew that, which is why she dared to attack me.” “Cole, if you’re going to believe her lies, I’ll kill myself right now to prove my innocence!” “Enough.” Cole snatched the knife from her, his voice low and dangerous. He turned his back to her and looked at me. “Starting tomorrow, you’re off the crew.” A ringing sound exploded in my ears. I gripped the bedsheets, my nails digging into my palms. “On what grounds?” “This is my project.” “On the grounds that I am the lead investor.” He turned his back to me, his voice freezing cold. “Your full compensation will be wired to your account. Not a penny less.” Sierra raised an eyebrow at me and mouthed silently: You lose. My heart seized. I stumbled out of the bed. The medical ID bracelet on my wrist caught the edge of a photo frame on the nightstand, sending it crashing to the floor. Amidst the sound of shattering glass, I saw the 17-year-old Cole in the yearbook photo, staring at a specific spot. And the blurry girl in the corner wasn’t Sierra at all. It was me. My back, intentionally cropped out of the frame. He really did hate me. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have purposely signed onto my project just to kick me off and humiliate me. I rubbed my eyes and said softly, “I understand.” “Wait.” Sierra suddenly blocked my path. She leaned in close, her breath carrying a sickly, serpentine sweetness. “Harper.” “I remember now. You’re that pathetic little loser who used to hide and cry in the locker rooms.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. After all this time, I was still terrified of her proximity. The sick joke was that she had just remembered. The depth of memory is always inversely proportional. The abuser brushes it off like dust, while the victim has it carved into their bones. She stroked her diamond ring like a trophy. “The way you’re getting kicked off this set right now looks exactly like how you used to run away clutching your backpack.” She smiled radiantly. “Only this time, you can’t just transfer schools.” “Sierra.” I heard my own voice, completely numb. “Do you know how long it takes for a person to bleed out from a severed carotid artery?” She froze. “Three minutes.” I picked up a large, jagged shard of glass from the broken frame on the floor. “Want to find out?” Sierra stumbled backward in terror. Cole stared at me intensely. “Harper, calm down.” The glass dug into my palm. The sharp pain kept me lucid. Warm blood slid down my wrist, dripping onto the floor. I took a half-step back, letting the blood fall. “Don’t panic.” I looked up at Cole, forcing a twisted smile. I had already made up my mind to accept reality, so why did my heart still hurt so damn much? “I’m just scaring her.” I stepped around them and walked toward the door. At the threshold, I turned back to look at Sierra. “But next time, who knows.” 4 As I walked down the stairwell, I heard muffled, suppressed sobbing. I hesitated for a moment, then walked over. A small, petite girl was crying while applying ointment to dark bruises on her arms. Her eyes and nose were completely red. I recognized her. It was Mia, Sierra’s young assistant. My eyelashes fluttered. I softened my voice. “Do you need help?” She jumped, instinctively hiding her arms behind her back. I sighed and held my hand out to her. “Rubbing it like that will just make it hurt more.” “Let me.” She hesitated for a long time before speaking timidly. “Thank you, Ms. Ellis.” I took the cotton swab. “I used a really good scar-removal cream a while ago. I’ll text you the link later.” “Um…” she stammered. “Did you… accidentally hurt yourself before too?” “Are you sure you did this to yourself by accident?” I asked. “Yes, I was just clumsy.” I smiled and didn’t call her out on the lie. “Well, I wasn’t clumsy. I was bullied.” “What?” She looked shocked, her eyes filling with empathy. “Do you know the fastest way to heal?” I asked. I tilted my head, gently took her hand, and softly blew cool air over her bruised skin. The tips of her ears turned pink. “What is it?” I winked at her. “Hit them back.” Her tightly knit brows relaxed, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Thank you, Harper.” I patted the top of her head. “By the way, my writing studio is currently short-staffed.” “I remember you graduated with a degree in literature, right? Do you want to come work for me starting tomorrow?” “But Ms. Fontaine…” “I can have a word with the director.” Her eyes instantly lit up. “I’d love to!” “See you tomorrow, then.” “See you tomorrow, Harper.”

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When I was seventeen, I had a secret crush. My family was dirt poor. To buy him a birthday present, I saved up for an entire year. On the day my mom had her medical emergency, I left school early. That was when I overheard him laughing with his friends. “This piece of junk? You get better prizes in a cereal box.” His friend laughed loudly. “If you don’t want it, Cole, toss it to me. I could pawn it for a few bucks to pay for my gaming subscriptions.” “If you want it, take it.” Cole tossed it to him in disgust, and right then, his eyes met mine. Years later, at our high school reunion, I heard that Cole Davis had been looking for me for eight years. 1 When my eyes met Cole’s, his expression froze. The guy holding the watch scratched his head awkwardly. “Uh… do you want this back?” I looked at the watch in his hand. It was battered and scuffed, clearly tossed around without a second thought. It wasn’t a luxury watch. It cost almost two hundred dollars, but it took me nearly a year to save up for it. I saved it dollar by dollar, skipping my school lunches. My gaze dropped to Cole’s wrist. He was wearing a watch today. I didn’t recognize the brand, but I could tell it was worth infinitely more than the one I had given him. I silently took the watch from his friend’s hand, looked at Cole, and said slowly, “I’m sorry. I’ll take care of it myself.” Cole lowered his eyes. His lips pressed into a tight line, but he didn’t say a word. I rubbed the watch in my hands, feeling utterly humiliated, and turned to walk away. When I passed the first trash can outside the venue, I hardened my heart and threw the watch straight into the garbage. I turned my head and gave him one last look. He had lazily lifted his eyelids. A smirk played on his lips, and his eyes were full of mockery. I froze, then lowered my gaze. It was so humiliating. My secret crush. I didn’t know it then, but that single look from Cole would become my nightmare for years. 2 When I got home, my dad was sitting on the porch, a cheap cigarette hanging from his lips, his face etched with sorrow. My mom wasn’t there. He handed me a medical report. It said my mom had breast cancer. My dad took a deep drag of his cigarette. “The treatments will cost over a hundred thousand dollars. Your mom and I talked it over… we’re not going to do it.” “Your mom said she wanted some of my homemade barbecue ribs. Go to the store and buy some. I’m going to pick her up from the clinic.” I didn’t believe it. I flipped the report back and forth, my voice trembling. “Is it an official diagnosis? They make mistakes all the time! I’ll take her to a better hospital tomorrow. It has to be a misdiagnosis…” I stared at my dad stubbornly. My dad’s eyes were bloodshot. He just looked at me, silent. In that instant, my tears fell. I couldn’t stop them. Finally, I cried, “I’ll drop out of school. Let’s use my college fund for her treatment.” My dad kept his head down. I knew his heartbreak was no less than mine. My dad had a disabled right leg. Back in the day, my mom was the only one willing to be with him. She never looked down on him; she always encouraged him. Even though we were poor, my parents were deeply in love. In middle school, all my classmates started talking about their role models and beliefs. I asked my dad, “Dad, what do you believe in?” My dad didn’t really get the concept, so I tried to explain it to him. He scratched his head sheepishly and said, “I just believe in your mom.” Later on… I found my own belief, too. I wanted to grow up, make money, and take my parents to see the world. But now, my dad’s belief was collapsing. And so was mine. I grabbed my dad’s hand and rambled, “I’m not going back to school. I’ll work full-time. We’ll go to Boston to get Mom the best doctors.” My dad kept smoking. He didn’t say a word. But my mind was made up. I told my dad to go bring my mom home. Then I would pack our bags for Boston. I turned around and headed back toward the school. 3 Halfway there, it started to pour. Pedestrians rushed by, hurrying to escape the storm. Only then did I dare to cry. The rain and my tears mixed together. By the time I reached the school, the grounds were deserted. I reached my hands into the filthy trash can. The pungent, rotting smell kept hitting my nose. I dug through it over and over, but the watch I had thrown away wasn’t there. I bit my lip, wanting to slap myself for throwing it away in the first place. I could have pawned it for at least fifty bucks! I searched for hours. I dug through every single piece of trash in that bin, but the watch was gone. I walked home, completely empty inside. The streets were entirely abandoned by now. The rain was so heavy it physically hurt as it lashed against my skin. When I got back to our small house, my dad still wasn’t back. The home that used to be so warm now only felt freezing cold. I waited and waited… Finally, a neighbor rushed in, breathless and panicking. “Lily! Your mom and dad… they jumped off the bridge!” That year, I was a high school senior. I lost both my parents and became an orphan. 4 Eight years have passed, but I still can’t forget what happened that day. I sat up in bed and checked my phone. It was only 4:00 AM. I looked into the empty room and whispered, “Dad… Mom…” Just like always, there was no response. I lowered my head. For eight years… They haven’t visited me in my dreams once. In my dreams, there is only Cole Davis. With that smirk on his lips and mockery in his eyes, laughing and asking: “Have you no shame, Lily?” Every time I shouted back that I did, I would wake up. I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I just got up and started packing. After numbly arranging my parents’ funeral back then, I left that town. I moved to a new city, working part-time jobs while taking night classes. Juggling work and school was incredibly bitter. But I didn’t dare stop. The moment I stopped moving, I would start crying. I went to a doctor. They diagnosed me with clinical depression. They said I needed someone to pull me out of the shadows of that day. But there was no one like that in my life… After being away for eight years, I recently started feeling a strong urge to go back. I wanted to see the river my parents jumped into. I wanted to jump in myself, just to ask them why they were so cruel to leave me behind. I was so tired… Since I was going back anyway, I figured I shouldn’t avoid my old classmates anymore. So, when Liam, our old class president, asked in the group chat who was going to the reunion, I was the first to say yes. I hadn’t sent a single message in that group for eight years. I had deleted all their contacts, too. Including Cole’s. 5 I bought a ticket for the earliest Amtrak train. I felt incredibly relaxed. For the first time in eight years, I felt light. I watched the beautiful scenery outside the window and smiled as I chatted with the young couple sitting across the aisle. The girl said, “You have no idea how hard it was to get him to date me! All the girls liked him, but I held on for two years. Now I’m finally taking him to meet my parents!” “You look so happy, are you heading home too? I swear, the air just smells sweeter when you’re on your way to see your family.” I fell silent for a moment, then forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m going home, too.” “Going home… to see my parents.” I muttered the last part so softly that only I could hear it. But the thought brought me comfort. Soon… I would see them again. I hummed a song for the rest of the ride. When I got off the train, I headed straight to the restaurant Liam had booked. 6 Most people had already arrived by the time I walked in. The moment I stepped through the door, the room fell dead silent. I walked over and took the seat closest to the exit. I dropped the smile from my face. Liam pushed his glasses up his nose, breaking the silence. “Lily? You actually made it.” I nodded. Chloe Taylor, a girl who always hated my guts, let out a sarcastic click of her tongue. “Well, if it isn’t our elusive little Valedictorian. Seeing your face just makes me lose my appetite. Somebody ought to text Cole and tell him to skip tonight…” No one knew the real reason I dropped out of school back then. But everyone knew I had a crush on Cole, and they all knew about the gift I gave him. The girl sitting next to Chloe tugged her sleeve, trying to quiet her. Liam frowned. “Just drop it, Chloe. Cole has been looking for Lily for eight years. If we tell him she’s here, he’ll be thrilled.” Chloe snorted a laugh. “Cole is just a nice guy. Since when is it a crime to not like someone back?” “He’s probably been looking for her for eight years just to apologize.” “Is it a crime to reject someone? Everyone knows Lily transferred because she embarrassed herself over him. You’re making it sound like Cole was in love with her.” “Doesn’t Cole already have a girl anyway? I heard she’s a gorgeous heiress. Aside from a pretty face, what did Lily ever have to offer? A crippled dad? A house made of rotting wood?” “Give me a break…” As Chloe’s words grew more vicious, the rest of the table frowned in discomfort. I stood up. My expression was perfectly calm. “I’m not eating. You don’t have to worry about losing your appetite. I just came to see everyone’s faces one last time. Now that I have, I’ll be going.” With that, I pulled the door open and walked out. Liam chased after me. He grabbed my wrist, looking deadly serious. “Lily, Cole really has been looking for you for eight years. Won’t you wait for him?” Cole’s face flashed in my mind. He was so handsome. His eyes were stunning. But when he looked at me, those eyes held absolutely no affection. Only a mocking smirk. I shook my head and smiled. “I’m on a tight schedule. If you see him, tell him I’m sorry. Tell him… I’m really sorry.” Liam froze in his tracks.

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After I became paralyzed from the waist down, I thought about ending it all. Many times. Until my friends showed up. “Harper, come out and shoot some hoops.” I stared at them blankly, looking down at my wheelchair. I pointed out that playing basketball was going to be a bit difficult for me right now. They had a stroke of genius: “Then you can fetch the ball for us.” When we went shopping, they bought new clothes and boba tea. Whenever their hands got full, they just dumped everything onto my lap. I rolled behind them, my numb legs buried under a mountain of girls’ accessories and shopping bags. Every now and then, they would turn around and spoon-feed me a bite of ice cream. They would run laps around my wheelchair, laughing and shoving each other. In that moment. I found a reason to stay alive. 1 The summer I turned sixteen. I became paralyzed. But, they would say: “Harper, you’ve got this.” “Harper, let’s go out.” “Harper, you’d look so good in a dress. Hold on, we’re putting one on you.” “Harper, let me sit in your wheelchair for a sec, my feet are killing me.” “Harper, want to run a marathon with us? We’ll give you a three-minute head start.” “Harper, we’re best friends for life.” …… Early morning. I had been sitting out on the balcony all night again. My mom pushed the door open. First, she sighed. Then she started making my bed. As she straightened the sheets, she couldn’t help but sob softly. Irritated, I snapped at her: “If you’re going to cry, go cry outside.” The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. But before I could apologize, a half-eaten apple was thrown into the living room from the hallway. Followed by a furious roar. “That is your mother.” “Watch how you speak to her!” “We didn’t cause your condition, so what gives you the right to take it out on us?” As my dad’s words echoed, the apple rolled across the floor and hit my foot. I couldn’t bend down to pick it up. I just watched it roll underneath my wheelchair. A million thoughts raced through my head. I hated myself for not even being able to do something so simple. My mom looked at me with wet eyes, then walked over. She practiced the motion: squatting, then dropping to her knees. She reached her arm under my wheelchair, feeling around blindly. Her face flushed red from the exertion. Finally, she retrieved the apple. She looked up at me with a goofy, exhausting smile. Her thin lips were pale and chapped. She looked unkempt. “Harper, Mom made some chicken noodle soup. Do you want to try a little?” I stayed stubbornly silent, looking away in disgust at her messy appearance. Before I got sick, she never looked like this. She used to wear beautiful dresses and pearl jewelry. She dressed more stylishly than I did; people used to mistake us for sisters. How did my illness end up ruining her life, too? I thought about the bony spine protruding from her back when she bent over to grab the apple. Her little tummy and double chin were completely gone. In just two years, she had withered into an emaciated, unkempt woman with half a head of gray hair. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t want to be the villain of this family. But I had no choice. I was the villain. Because of my recklessness, this family had been reduced to this. And yet, I refused to act my age. I always used violent, icy emotions to mask my deep-seated shame. I threw tantrums, blaming my mom, blaming my dad, blaming the car crash. But deep down, the person I hated most was myself. Perhaps sensing my quiet despair, my mom gently patted my head. I just kept my head down, and in a very, very small voice. I said, “I’m sorry.” 2 During dinner, the house phone suddenly rang. My mom put down her fork and ran to answer it. “Hello? Hi!” “You’re looking for Harper? Sure.” “Harper is home, come on over.” She walked back to the table, chewing on a piece of leftover toast from yesterday. “Harper, that was Chloe and Zoe. They said they’re downstairs and they want to take you out shopping.” My mom’s tone was incredibly cautious, as if terrified I would throw another tantrum. And of course, I did. I screamed at her: “Shopping? You want me, a paraplegic, to go shopping with them?” “You want me to sit there and watch them walk around in their pretty dresses with their perfectly working legs?” “Did you even consider how I would feel?” “Are you even my mother?” My mom’s face went sheet white. She looked at me in a panic and quickly crouched down to soothe me. “No, sweetheart, Mom didn’t mean it like that.” “They were your best friends. I just thought you’d want to see them.” “It’s okay, if you don’t want to see them, you don’t have to. Mom will go call them and tell them to go home.” I turned my face away, ignoring her. Suddenly, a heavy fist slammed onto the dining table. “Harper Davis!” “Are you ever going to stop?” “This entire family has quit jobs and fallen ill just to take care of you.” “We haven’t had a single good day.” “What? Are you the only person in the whole world who doesn’t have legs?” “Why is it that everyone else can find a way to move on, but you insist on wallowing in misery?” “It’s been two years. How long are you going to keep doing this?” “If you act like this, how can your mother ever rest easy… how can she…” He seemed to realize something, cutting his sentence short and falling silent. I continued to pretend I couldn’t hear him, biting down hard on the tip of my tongue to swallow the surge of anger. My mom was terrified. She rushed over and pried my jaw open with her bare hands. “Okay, okay, we won’t force you anymore.” “Be a good girl, Harper. If you don’t want to go out, we won’t go out.” “Whenever you feel ready, then we’ll take you…” Before she could finish, there was a knock on our front door. Followed by a chorus of long-lost, giggling voices. “Harper! Open the door, I really have to pee!” “Harper, we heard you were depressed, so the girls are here to cheer you up.” “Harper, we brought your favorite boba, but there’s only half left because haha, I drank the other half.” Hearing their voices, a completely indescribable feeling washed over me. It was complicated. But there was also a strange, undeniable spark of joy. 3 Chloe and Zoe were my absolute best friends from elementary through middle school. But after my parents and I moved out of state, we lost touch. They didn’t even know about the accident during my sophomore year of high school. According to my mom, they both ended up going to college in this city. They ran into my mom by chance and finally learned what had happened to me. So they immediately came to see me. I figured, let them look. This is what I am now anyway. This is what the rest of my life is going to be. I took a deep breath and spun my chair around. I braced myself for their pitiful, sympathetic, teary-eyed gazes. But surprisingly, none of that happened. Chloe said: “Harper, how is your skin so clear? You’re so pale.” Zoe said: “Oh my god, you’re so skinny! You’d look amazing in a dress.” I froze for a second. I looked at them. And then, for some inexplicable reason, I smiled. And I mocked myself. “Lock yourself in a house for two years and you’ll get pale and skinny, too.” But I felt a little happy. I don’t know why. They didn’t seem to look at me like a disabled person. It was just like the old days. They still wanted to compare everything with me. Comparing whose nose looked better. Comparing whose butt was perkier. Comparing who could catch the attention of the senior boys. At least they weren’t here to pity me. And I didn’t have to pretend everything was fine. I didn’t have to put on a brave face just to comfort them. 4 After eating, driven by pure curiosity. They fought over who got to push me downstairs. To the point where they almost flipped me out of the wheelchair. It wasn’t until I literally crashed into the elevator doors and got my head trapped between them. That they finally panicked. They hurriedly wrestled me back into the seat. They weren’t very strong, so they ended up grabbing my arms, chasing the rolling wheelchair all the way down the hallway. After a few minutes of chaos. The three of us just burst out laughing for no reason. It was, admittedly, a ridiculous scene. Once they safely secured me in the wheelchair, they stopped fighting over who got to push. Instead, they stood on either side of me, pulled out their compact mirrors, and seriously started fixing their hair and makeup. They didn’t forget to roll my pant legs back down for me, either. I was just about to ask what the occasion was. When I looked up and saw the older boy from next door. He walked toward us with a big smile, deep dimples on his cheeks. He was over six feet tall, spinning a basketball on his finger. He asked politely. “Harper, are you girls heading out?” I nodded. He smiled politely again. “I’m heading to the courts to shoot some hoops. If you guys are bored, you can come watch.” “We’re going shopping, maybe another time…” But before I could finish, I was aggressively interrupted. “No another time! Today is perfect!” “Which court are you playing at? We’ll bring you water!” …… And just like that. My lap was piled high with Gatorade. They pushed me along, treating me like a glorified grocery cart. Handing out water to everyone, flipping their hair, striking poses. Whenever they spotted a cute guy, they decided I was in the way. And shoved me to the sidelines. Telling me to go chill in the shade. When it was all over. I accidentally saw the keychains dangling from their backpacks. “Harper is my best friend.” 5 I am their best friend. My only friends are Chloe and Zoe. I don’t want to be friends with anyone else. 6 That night, they brought me home. They each demolished two massive slices of pizza and collapsed onto the sofa. “Harper, what’s your Wi-Fi password?” “Harper, get down, let me sit in your wheelchair for a bit.” “Harper, grab me an apple. Oh, and some chips, too.” “Harper, you’re blocking the TV. Move over.” …… I randomly grabbed an apple and threw it at them. Pretending to be annoyed, I said: “I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted.” As soon as I said that, my mom suddenly froze. A thick mist gathered in her eyes. She said. “Harper wants to go to sleep? Mom will carry you to bed.” Then, she emotionally pushed me toward my bedroom. I knew exactly why she was reacting this way. After all, before Chloe and Zoe showed up. It had been a very long time since I naturally wanted to go to sleep. I survived solely on sleeping pills. I nodded, letting her drag my senseless body. She wasn’t a strong woman, but she was always able to lift me up all by herself. I only found out later that my mom had secretly spent months practicing lifting heavy sandbags just to be able to carry me. But today was a little strange. She seemed to be struggling to lift me. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, and her breathing was heavier than usual. I asked: “Mom, what’s wrong?” She shook her head and said: “Nothing, Mom’s hands just slipped.” “Don’t worry, Harper, Mom can definitely pick you up.” Eventually, she managed to carry me to bed. But I also saw the profound heartbreak in the eyes of the man standing behind her. Honestly, a lot of times. I couldn’t tell if my dad loved me or not. But I knew he deeply loved my mom. Isn’t it natural for a husband to love his wife? If he loved me a little less. That was fine. I didn’t need that much love.

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