The day I broke up with Vance Sterling. He accepted the fact of my departure very calmly. When people asked him if he would ever regret it, he scoffed lightly: “I never regret anything.” He truly didn’t regret it. He even wired me a massive, multi-million dollar breakup fee. I took it without hesitation. I thought our history was wiped clean. But later, when I was at the movies with my new boyfriend… A figure of pure, arrogant elegance sat down next to us. He was dressed in head-to-toe bespoke couture, looking completely out of place in a noisy, sticky-floored theater. It was Vance Sterling. 1 It had been six months. I never expected to see Vance again. Especially not in a crowded, noisy movie theater. The man in front of me wore a custom-tailored suit worth more than a luxury car. He sat bolt upright, as if he weren’t in a standard fifteen-dollar-a-ticket cinema, but in the spacious, sunlit boardroom of a Wall Street skyscraper. I blinked, thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me. But I looked closer. It was really him. Just as my mind was reeling, a crisp, clear voice came from beside me: “Maya, what are you looking at?” I snapped back to reality, withdrawing my shocked gaze, and looked at Liam beside me. Liam Hayes was three years younger than me. Young, energetic, and full of life. His dark eyes were remarkably bright, even in the pitch-black theater. I shook my head. “Nothing.” “Oh.” He was so sweet and trusting. Without a shred of suspicion, he went back to happily watching the screen. But right at that moment, the man who hadn’t turned his head this whole time suddenly looked over, catching my gaze. His eyes were endlessly deep. The light from the movie screen reflected in his pupils, casting shifting shadows over my reflection in them. A dark, dangerous undercurrent seemed to flow there. My gaze faltered, and I quickly looked away. 2 Back then, I was the one who chased Vance. There was no complex reason. He was just too handsome. Plus, when I was being mocked by the wealthy kids for applying for a financial aid grant, he stepped in and helped me. The boy in his sharp prep-school blazer snatched my application form back from the kids mocking me and placed that thin piece of paper gently into my palm. “There’s nothing shameful about this. Go turn it in.” His voice was flat, just stating a calm fact. But I froze. My fragile, sensitive heart felt like it had been plucked like a guitar string, blooming with an unexpected warmth. That was the first time my heart fluttered for him. From then on, I chased him like I was chasing the sun, even following him to the same Ivy League university. I chased him for four full years before I finally managed to pull this untouchable elite down from his pedestal. When I confessed to him, my face burning red, the violent pounding in my chest was something I can still feel to this day. But he didn’t actually like me. Being with me seemed to just be a matter of indifference to him—something he could take or leave. Still, I was secretly thrilled for a long time. I thought that someone as outstanding as him was finally mine. But for the three years we were together, he treated me with nothing but cold indifference. I still remember my birthday. One of his trust-fund frat brothers had his eye on me and smiled at him. “Vance, where’d you find this little girlfriend? She’s pretty gorgeous.” Saying that, he reached out to touch my face. I instinctively dodged. Vance frowned and stopped him. “Show some respect.” Seeing this, the guy backed off awkwardly, keeping his hands to himself. But before I could even breathe a sigh of relief, Vance’s phone rang. I didn’t know what was said on the other end, but he suddenly stood up. Confused, I tried to grab his sleeve. “Where are you going?” But I missed. The fabric slipped right through my fingertips. His tone took on a blaming edge. “There’s an emergency at the company. I have to go.” With that, he left without looking back. Leaving me completely alone in the VIP lounge. The guy who had bad intentions toward me let out a cold laugh. “You actually thought Vance cared about you? He’s just playing around. Otherwise, how could he leave you here so easily? Why don’t you ditch him and get with me?” I broke out in a cold sweat. My immediate instinct was to leave, but he grabbed my arm. Thankfully, there were a few rational people still in the room, and in the ensuing scuffle, I managed to flee the lounge as if running for my life. 3 That birthday was a complete disaster. But that guy’s words kept echoing in my head, like needles piercing me over and over again. At the same time, countless other memories flooded my mind. Like the time I was rear-ended, and the other driver, seeing I was just a young woman, twisted the truth and became incredibly aggressive. I called Vance in a panic, but he just told me to call the insurance company or the cops. He was in a meeting and couldn’t come. Afterwards, seeing I was upset, he bought me an entire set of the latest Tom Ford lipsticks. Or the time I blushed, put on sexy Victoria’s Secret lingerie, and tried to spice things up. Vance’s expression remained ice-cold. He just gripped my waist hard, his voice deep and detached: “I’ll buy you that Birkin bag you liked tomorrow.” I didn’t understand him back then. It wasn’t until much later that I finally woke up. Vance came from old money. From the very first moment we met, it was destined that we were not from the same world. …He had never truly respected me. In his eyes, my passionate, burning love was nothing more than a scheme to get his money. I realized it too late. Without any hesitation, I broke up with him. Vance’s expression was incredibly indifferent. He just said, “Okay.” He sat on the couch, quietly watching me pack my things and leave. He didn’t stop me. From the moment I started packing until I walked out the door, he didn’t say a single word. Later, I heard from mutual acquaintances that a friend asked him: After so many years together, just cutting ties like that, would he regret it? How did he answer? Maintaining that same aloof, aristocratic demeanor, he said: “I never regret anything.” My memories stopped there. Although I didn’t quite understand why Vance was here, I didn’t care to figure it out. Maybe he just had a sudden whim to see a movie. Who cares. Whatever the reason, it had nothing to do with me. But what I didn’t expect was that the hand I had resting on the armrest was suddenly covered by a large, warm hand. At first, I thought it was Liam, so I didn’t pull away. But I quickly realized something was wrong. The hand holding mine was coming from my right side! A jolt went through my body, and I snapped my head to the side. The man’s expression was as indifferent as ever. But tracing down from his sharp jawline and prominent Adam’s apple, my eyes landed on those long, elegant fingers. His hand was resting firmly on top of mine. What kind of psycho trip was he on? I tried to pull my hand back, but he exerted force, and for a moment, I actually couldn’t break free. I started to get angry. Was he doing this on purpose? And right at that exact moment, Liam turned his head toward me— 4 My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. Luckily, at the crucial moment, Vance let go of my hand. I wanted to snatch my hand back immediately, but I felt like a sudden, jerky movement would only draw Liam’s attention. So, I forced myself to stay still. Liam’s sweet voice sounded near my ear. “Maya, I’m going to run to the restroom real quick. Be right back.” “Okay.” The movie wasn’t over yet, and the theater was pitch black. As soon as Liam walked away… I stopped holding back. I ripped my hand away, instinctively stood up, and followed him out. —I absolutely did not want to sit next to Vance a second longer. But in my peripheral vision, I saw Vance stand up too. I walked faster and faster, but he still managed to grab my arm as I turned a corner in the hallway. “What are you doing?” I coldly shook off his hand. Caught off guard, he was easily shaken off. A flash of hurt crossed his deep eyes, but he quickly concealed it. His voice was still flat: “Is that your new boyfriend?” I gave a perfunctory nod, thinking to myself: What does it have to do with you? He was the one who said he’d never regret it. What was the point of harassing me now? I was just trying to get away, but he refused to step aside. “How did you meet?” I lost my patience. “None of your business.” Saying that, I turned to walk away. Right then, Liam walked out of the men’s room and spotted me immediately. He walked toward me happily, tossing his paper towel into the trash. He came over and grabbed my hand, his dark eyes sparkling. “Maya, did you come out just to wait for me?” Our fingers had just intertwined when his gaze fell on the man behind me. He let out a surprised gasp: “Vance?” Hearing this, I froze and asked him, “You know him?” Liam didn’t think much of it and nodded naturally. “Yeah, we grew up together. He’s a few years older than me, our families run in the same circles.” I went completely silent. In a flash of lightning, a thought crossed my mind. No wonder Vance suddenly asked how Liam and I met. Was he afraid I was trying to swindle another rich kid for his money? I found it laughable, but I didn’t show it on my face. Liam’s gaze shifted back and forth between us, and finally, he asked curiously: “Why are you two standing together…” It was just the two of us over here. It really was hard to explain. I wanted to say Vance was my ex-boyfriend, but the words got stuck in my throat. What were those three years, really? To me, it was a relationship. But to Vance, maybe it was just a transaction? A sugar baby arrangement? When I brought up the breakup, he didn’t say a word, but the moment I left, he wired me a massive “breakup fee”. Ha. Maybe it wasn’t a breakup fee at all. It was just a severance package to thoroughly end our three years together. My mood suddenly plummeted, and my attitude grew sour. “We went to high school together. Just bumped into each other.” “We’re very close.” The two voices dropped at almost the exact same time. Liam’s expression shifted slightly. 5 Wait, what? I furrowed my brows deeply, looking at the completely composed man across from me. I had no idea what kind of play he was putting on. Just as I was trying to figure out what to say, Liam suddenly leaned in and planted a kiss on my cheek. He said brightly, “So you’re just high school classmates! I knew it. You like younger guys; you definitely wouldn’t be into Vance’s type.” Saying that, he cast a sideways glance at Vance, whose expression had darkened considerably. As if completely oblivious to the older man’s icy glare, Liam offered enthusiastically, “Vance, we’re going to grab dinner after the movie. Want to tag along?” Then he turned to me with a beaming smile. “Maya, what are you craving? I’ll make the reservation.” “Whatever you want.” Liam was incredibly handsome and sweet. When his dark eyes locked onto you, he looked like an eager golden retriever wagging its tail. When he turned on the charm, it was impossible to say no. Being interrupted by him, the gloomy mood that had settled over me instantly cleared, and a smile broke across my face. Off to the side, Vance stared at us laughing happily. His eyes grew incredibly dark, and his tone was like cracked ice. “No. I have business at the firm. You two go.” Knowing him as well as I did, this attitude meant he was genuinely angry. When we were together, he rarely got angry. Most of the time, he was just apathetic. But back then, because I loved him so much, I would unconsciously monitor his every mood, tracking his joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness. But now? What did his emotions have to do with me? Since he said he was busy, Liam bought it completely. “Alright, we’re heading out then.” I let him lead me away by the hand. I didn’t even notice that the man behind us stood rooted to the spot, lingering for a very long time before finally leaving.

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My father crashed his sports car while street racing. As he lay dying, he tried to write a will leaving his entire fortune to his mistress and his unborn illegitimate child. My mother, who had served him like a slave her entire life without a single complaint, suddenly rushed forward. Weeping hysterically, she slapped the pen right out of his trembling hand. “Honey, I won’t let you write a will! You’re going to pull through this! You’re going to live!” I, the son he had ignored for over two decades, dropped to my knees, snatched the half-written document, and ripped it to shreds. “Dad! Don’t you worry! I’ll take over the company and run it perfectly!” My dad was so furious he couldn’t catch his breath. His eyes rolled back, efforts to resuscitate him failed, and he died right there on the spot. By the time his mistress rushed to the hospital, cradling her eight-month pregnant belly and screaming about how the new inheritance laws meant her bastard child was entitled to a cut, it was too late. My dad had already been pronounced dead, rushed through a direct cremation, and his estate was locked down. Fight for the fortune? I wasn’t leaving her a single cent! 1 My father, Richard Sterling, was a deadbeat playboy who sowed his wild oats wherever he went. When he was young, he used his movie-star looks to con my mother into marrying him without spending a dime on a ring or a wedding. According to my mom, he made all these grand promises. He swore he would work hard, build a life from the ground up, and take care of his little family. But three years into the marriage, he was either drinking, gambling, or sleeping around. He was never home. We practically never saw him. My mom tried to talk sense into him a few times. In response, fueled by cheap whiskey, he pinned her to the sofa and beat her. Blood stained the couch in our tiny rented apartment, and the landlord forced us to pay a $500 damage fee. That just threw our already poverty-stricken family deeper into the abyss. My mom cried every single day. Once, after a few drinks with a friend, my mom had a moment of pure clarity and decided to file for divorce. But right at that critical moment, she found out she was pregnant with me. She didn’t want her child to be born into a broken home. Plus, whenever my dad screwed up bad enough, he would drop to his knees and give a tearful, Oscar-worthy apology. Ultimately, for my sake, she decided to endure it. The fact that she married him for nothing, combined with her refusal to fight back, made my dad feel invincible. He truly believed she couldn’t live without him. And so… the domestic violence escalated. Not even her pregnancy or nursing phases were spared. The most ruthless incident was when my dad stepped on my mother’s head, looked down at her, and spat in her face. “I didn’t even pay a dime for a ring! You’re a worthless, cheap bitch!” “Even if I bring my women home and sleep with them in our bed, you’re going to watch, you’re going to listen, and you’re going to wash our laundry and cook us breakfast!” Then I was born. My mom shifted her entire focus onto me and stopped paying attention to him. As far as she was concerned, as long as I knew I had a father and didn’t feel inferior to other kids, that was enough. She expected nothing else from him, and relied on him for nothing. And he lived up to that. From the moment I formed memories, my dad never once held me. Forget teaching me how to ride a bike or buying me toys. My mom and I were outsiders in his life. We were the closest people in the world to each other, surviving against the odds. My dad was just a background character. If we saw him today, we probably wouldn’t see him again for a week or two. As for child support or living expenses? My mom never saw a single penny. Mrs. Higgins, the old lady in the apartment upstairs, was a saint. She knew our situation and knew my dad was a piece of trash. Taking pity on me, she would give me her grandson’s old hand-me-down toys. She also hired my mom to clean her apartment and cook her meals, paying her under the table. Because of Mrs. Higgins, my mom and I didn’t starve. But the good days didn’t last. My dad found out. He interrogated my mom, demanding to know how much cash she was making. When she refused to speak, he beat her black and blue. If I tried to shield my mom, he’d beat me too. With one arm, he could effortlessly throw a five-year-old me across the room. Eventually, my mom compromised. She agreed to give him a $1,000 cut of her earnings every month. I remember Mrs. Higgins asking my mom why she didn’t just call the cops. She told her domestic abuse was a felony. My mom’s response is burned into my memory to this day. With tears in her eyes, she whispered: “If I divorce him, he’ll kill me and my son. He’s crazy enough to do it.” Later, a massive tragedy struck our family. My maternal grandparents were killed in a horrific crash. An 18-wheeler ran a red light—total liability on the trucking company. Because my mom was an only child, she received a $1 million wrongful death settlement. That period was the most terrifying, despair-filled time of our lives. Not only were we grieving, but we had to guard ourselves against my dad. He threatened us. He said if we didn’t hand over the settlement money, he would murder us. That was the moment my mom finally called the police. But it’s hard to gather evidence behind closed doors, and since my dad hadn’t physically acted on the death threats yet, the cops just mediated the dispute and gave him a stern warning. For over a month, my mom and I lived in a cheap motel, terrified. Then, one night, my dad kicked the motel door in. We screamed, but he just calmly sat down on the armchair, staring at us with dead eyes, and delivered an ultimatum. “Give me the money. I’m starting a business. I am going to change my destiny. If I don’t get it, my life is meaningless anyway. I’ll just kill myself and take the two of you down to hell with me.” Then he left. He didn’t hit us. He didn’t yell. It was the first time I had ever seen him so cold and calculated. My mom told me that in that state of mind, he really would pull the trigger. She stroked my hair, crying, apologizing to me. She promised that once I graduated high school, she would file for divorce. “With that money, your father probably won’t hurt us anymore,” she reasoned. And just like that, through extortion and death threats, he took the million-dollar settlement. He got incredibly lucky. He rode the wave of a booming real estate and logistics market, and his very first startup became a massive success. The first thing he did after becoming a multi-millionaire? He asked my mom for a divorce. But this time, she refused. As she put it: she had suffered through decades of a miserable life, swallowing her pride, taking beatings, and living in squalor. Now that he was rich, why should he get to cast her aside? My dad felt his authority was being challenged. Money had inflated his ego, making him even more arrogant and ruthless. He grabbed my mom by the hair, preparing to beat her into submission. But I was older now. I rushed him, punching him as hard as I could, screaming that I was going to call the cops, call the press, and send him to a federal penitentiary. For the first time in his life, my dad backed down. He was no longer fearless. He had a weakness now. His precious corporate empire. As a newly minted “successful entrepreneur,” a massive domestic violence and extortion scandal would utterly destroy his public image and his business. He tucked his tail between his legs and ran. That was the day my mom realized we finally had a shield. That million-dollar settlement wasn’t a total waste after all. From then on, we demanded an exorbitant allowance. If he refused, we cried, screamed, and threatened to hold protest banners outside his corporate headquarters. To save face, he paid up. It was more than enough for us to live comfortably. He never brought up divorce again, but he also never came home. He spent his days at galas and his nights in luxury penthouses. He spent his time sleeping with his secretaries and female executives. Living the high life. When he was feeling particularly smug, he’d even bring his mistresses back to our house to hook up. Whenever those disgusting noises echoed from the master bedroom, my mom would cover my ears. But it had been a very long time since she shed a single tear over him. As I grew older and understood how the world worked, I finally asked her the question that had been burning inside me. “Why keep this charade going? A father’s love like this… what’s the point of maintaining this legal marriage?” The seeds of hatred and pain had been planted in me since childhood. As for fatherly love? I didn’t possess a single ounce of it. My mom teared up, looking at me with deep guilt. But her answer is something I have engraved in my mind to this very day. “I used to be stupid. I thought keeping the family whole mattered. But you’re right, a father like him is worse than no father at all.” “But now, I have to think about your future.” I pondered that sentence for nearly a decade. Until I was twenty-two. My mom and I were making dinner when the hospital called. My dad had been in a horrible accident. In a flash of lightning, I finally understood what my mom had meant all those years ago! We dropped everything and rushed to the hospital. On the way, we exchanged dozens of glances. There was no grief. No pain. Just intense anticipation and wild speculation. When we arrived, our deepest hopes were confirmed! The doctor said my dad had been street racing and crashed. His condition was critical, and they needed us to sign the surgical consent forms immediately. We were escorted to the ICU. Seeing my dad covered in blood and hooked up to a dozen tubes, I didn’t feel a shred of sadness. Instead, I noticed he was struggling desperately to write something on a clipboard. My mom’s reflexes were faster than mine. She lunged forward, slapping his hand hard, sending the pen clattering to the floor. She wailed with theatrical devastation: “Honey! I won’t let you write a will! You’re going to pull through! You have to live!” I peeked at the clipboard. The bastard was trying to leave his entire corporate empire to his mistress and her unborn child. His handwriting was a jagged, illegible mess. It had taken all his remaining strength just to scribble a few lines. Without missing a beat, I dropped to my knees, snatched the paper, and tore it into confetti. “Dad! Don’t worry! You still have me! I’ll step up and run the company! I won’t let your life’s work go to waste!” Outside the glass doors, the nurses and doctors were wiping away tears, whispering about how lucky my dad was to have such a devoted wife and son. My dad’s face turned purple with absolute rage. He choked around the intubation tube, unable to speak, making furious, muffled groans. He tried to blindly reach for another pen. I casually kicked the clipboard into the biohazard bin, completely severing his hopes. Finally, the sheer rage and spike in blood pressure caused him to pass out. The doctors rushed in with a defibrillator. I held up a hand, stopping them. I let out a heavy sigh, my eyes shimmering with fake tears. “My father just signaled to me… he doesn’t want to live without dignity. Please, pull the plug. Let him go in peace.” Perhaps my dad could hear me in his comatose state, because the heart monitor spiked violently before flatlining into a solid, continuous beep. The doctor checked his vitals, looked at us with a heavy expression, and pronounced him dead. I nodded, vigorously rubbing my eyes as if wiping away tears, while internally, I was doing backflips. We didn’t even bother with the morgue. The moment we got the death certificate, my mom and I hired a transport service, took him straight to the crematorium, and had him burned to ash. Before the ashes had even cooled down, I scattered them in a drainage ditch. Armed with the death certificate, I hired a high-powered proxy lawyer. By throwing an obscene amount of money at the problem, I had the inheritance paperwork expedited and finalized within hours. In a single day, I transformed into a multi-millionaire CEO. 2 We went back to the hospital to finalize some billing paperwork and were just about to happily head home. Suddenly, a woman caked in heavy makeup, clutching a massive pregnant belly, stormed into the main lobby. “Where is Richard Sterling?! Where is he?!” “The CEO of Sterling Enterprises! I’m asking you, where is Richard?! What room is he in?!” I knew this woman. She was the Chief Financial Officer at my dad’s company. Her name was Serena Vance. My dad had brought her to our house multiple times while flaunting his affairs. She knew exactly what the dynamic was in our family, so she treated my mom like absolute garbage. The first time she came over, she was somewhat restrained. By the second time, she was barking orders, treating my mom like the hired help. My mom got angry and told her to check her attitude. In response, emboldened by my dad standing right next to her, Serena slapped my mom across the face, leaving five red fingernail scratches. “Don’t you raise your voice at me, you washed-up hag. Don’t you know your place?” Seeing my mom get hit, I charged forward, aiming a kick straight at Serena’s ribs. But my deadbeat father intervened, kicking me squarely in the chest and knocking me to the ground. He’d rather assault his own flesh and blood than let his precious mistress get a scratch. Seeing her again today, waddling around the hospital lobby, gave me a profound sense of karmic justice. Tsk, tsk. Looking at that belly, she had to be at least eight months along. Ready to pop any day now. What a shame. The kid is going to be born without a father. Oh, wait, not just fatherless—an unrecognized, illegitimate bastard with absolutely no legal standing. My mom and I exchanged a wry look. We were just about to slip away when Serena spotted us. Like a madwoman, she screamed and charged at us. “Stop right there! Both of you, stop!” She jogged over and grabbed my mom’s jacket. I stepped in, forcefully shoving her hand away. “Lady, running around like a maniac at eight months pregnant? Aren’t you afraid of having a miscarriage?” “Where is Richard?! Where is he!” My mom looked at her coldly. “Don’t you have your own man? Why are you looking for my husband?” As soon as she said that, the nurses, patients, and visitors in the lobby all turned to stare. Serena must have sensed something was terribly wrong. Throwing all care for her reputation out the window, she shrieked: “I am carrying Richard Sterling’s child! Why don’t I have the right to know where he is?! Tell me where he is right now!” “My husband died in a car crash. He’s currently burning in hell.” “And why would you be carrying his child? Is this some kind of sick joke?” Serena only heard the first sentence. The rest of the words flew right past her. She looked like she had been hit by a truck, stumbling backward a few steps. Then, snapping out of it, she lunged forward again. “I’m carrying his flesh and blood! I want his assets! I want half of everything he owned!” “Heh…” I let out a cold laugh. “Lady, my father was incredibly devoted to his family. He would never do anything to betray my mother. Stop joking around.” “If you keep slandering my late father’s good name, I won’t be so polite.” 3 Serena looked incredibly confused, staring at us as if she had never met us before. “What act are you two putting on?! I’ve been to your house multiple times! You know exactly who I am and what my relationship with Richard is!” “The baby in my belly is his! Now that he’s dead, I want my share! I demand my child’s inheritance!” Wanted a cut of the fortune? She wasn’t getting a single dime. Why did my mom and I rush to have him cremated and his ashes scattered in a ditch? Exactly to prevent mistress number three, four, five, and six from showing up and demanding DNA tests! As for his reputation? Dad, to secure the bag, I’m defending your honor! You were a paragon of marital fidelity! Because of Serena’s screaming, a massive crowd had gathered. They were pointing fingers and whispering about this shameless woman. But Serena didn’t care. Her brain was completely consumed by dollar signs. “Don’t think you can screw me out of this! Richard and I have been together for over two years! I’m eight months pregnant; the baby is coming in a month. If you don’t give me my cut, I’ll take you for everything you have!” “Since when do mistresses have the guts to show up and demand an inheritance?” a bystander muttered. “Don’t you know? Under state law, an illegitimate child has inheritance rights if paternity is proven!” “Tsk, tsk. She looks like a professional, but she willingly became a homewrecker.” “Sterling Enterprises is worth hundreds of millions! A baby could secure a massive bag. If it’s his biological kid, why shouldn’t she take the money?” “What is wrong with your morals? You think destroying someone’s family is justified?” “What’s wrong with my morals? The man is the one who stepped out! She went for the money, it was consensual, who did it hurt? People live and die for money, what’s the big deal?” “I spit on that! So the legal wife just deserves to get screwed over?” The crowd started arguing amongst themselves. Serena took advantage of the chaos to raise her voice. “I didn’t do it for the money at first! I didn’t even know he was married until after I got pregnant! But what was I supposed to do? Get an abortion? The baby is innocent!” “Now that he’s dead, I can’t just walk away with nothing! I’m just fighting for what rightfully belongs to my child! Is that a crime?!” Serena completely flipped the script, painting herself as the tragic victim. A good chunk of the crowd began to murmur in agreement, seemingly swaying to her side and whispering insults about my dad. Right then, I put on a pained expression and decided to reveal the “truth.” “After my dad and mom had me, my dad was in a horrific accident. He lost his fertility.” “Lady, whose bastard child are you really carrying?” 4 Since the dawn of time, spreading rumors regarding a woman’s chastity is a despicable way to ruin her. But using it on this vile mistress? I felt absolutely zero guilt. When my dad was younger, he did slip and fall while blackout drunk, requiring a hospital visit. There were medical records of the ER trip. As for losing his fertility? Completely made up. But it didn’t matter. It completely shifted the crowd’s perception of Serena. Their eyes practically screamed: Are you trying to pin another man’s bastard on a dead billionaire just to steal his money? Serena trembled with fury. In her panic, she ripped her phone out of her Prada bag. She pulled up dozens of intimate photos of her and my dad, threatening to read their explicit text messages out loud. “Look at this! We were deeply in love! Here are photos of us living together in his penthouse!” “He wasn’t devoted to anyone! He was a serial cheater who slept with half his office!” “Oh…” “Miss, didn’t you just say you didn’t know he had a wife?” I didn’t even need to speak. A sharp-eared bystander immediately called out her lie. “I meant I found out after I got pregnant! Are you all deaf?! And what does that have to do with any of you anyway?!” Serena completely lost her mind, screaming profanities at the crowd. The crowd, obviously not taking kindly to being cursed at, fired back with every insult in the book. My mom and I exchanged a look. The scene was getting way too chaotic. Time to bounce. We grabbed our paperwork and casually strolled out of the hospital.

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A breaking news alert popped up on my phone: [State University freshman lured overseas to work in an international cyber scam ring.] I was having lunch with my best friend, Chloe Davis. She glanced sideways at my screen. Immediately, her face broke into a massive, condescending grin. “Oh my god, that’s not your son, is it? I mean, your family is so broke, he’d definitely be the easiest target to brainwash.” “But seriously, do not even think about asking me for ransom money. My husband needs our cash for his stock investments.” Fuming, I locked my screen. Two minutes later, my son called me. [Mom, it’s bad. Aunt Chloe’s son got lured overseas by a scam syndicate. I heard they’re asking for a $300,000 ransom.] Right then, a text from my husband popped up. [Honey, brace yourself and get ready to console Chloe. Richard gambled away every last dime they had. They’re completely bankrupt.] I slowly put my phone down and turned to look at Chloe. She was laughing even harder now. “Oh my god, look at your face! Did the kidnappers just call you for the ransom?” I gave her a cold, slow shake of my head. The kidnappers definitely won’t be calling me. You just sit tight and wait for your phone to ring. “No… it wasn’t the kidnappers…” My mind was racing, trying to figure out how to break the news to her gently. But Chloe was laughing so hard she was clutching her stomach, wiping away tears while continuing to mock me. “Don’t give me that! Look at how pale you are. Your cheap drugstore foundation is literally cracking.” She found her own joke so hilarious she practically rolled out of her booth. The restaurant chair squeaked loudly under her shifting weight. “I’m telling you right now, Sarah, my family absolutely does not have money to lend you. And even if we did, it would take you a whole lifetime to pay us back.” My head was spinning with rage, but she just kept blabbering. “You and your husband Tom are just two corporate slaves. You make pennies every month. Of course your kid would run off the second someone flashed a dollar sign in his face!” “If I were your son, I would’ve run away ages ago. Look at my Tyler. Why didn’t he run off?” “Because my Richard is a powerhouse! My husband makes more in a month than you two make in a year. Tsk, tsk.” “But nobody’s money grows on trees. Even best friends need to keep their finances separate. I’m putting my foot down right now: I am not lending you a dime.” My grip on my phone tightened. A thin layer of sweat had coated the back of my phone. It felt damp, sticky, and incredibly uncomfortable. I took a few deep breaths and set the phone down. I pulled out a napkin and wiped my palms. “Chloe, hypothetically… if something catastrophic happened to your family, would you swear to never ask me for a loan?” She let out an ear-piercing shriek of laughter. “Ahahahaha! What did you just say? Me? Ask you for money? Keep dreaming, Sarah. Are you really that desperate to see me beneath you?” I shook my head, exhausted. Chloe reached over and grabbed my hand. “Sarah, honestly, I advise you to just let him work over there.” “With your family’s pathetic bank account, your kid isn’t going to find a good job after graduation anyway.” “Do you really want him working like a dog for pennies, just like you?” “Who knows! Maybe he’ll actually make some real money doing scams!” I violently snatched my hand back and yelled at her, “Are you out of your mind?! Do you have any idea how much they torture and beat those kids who get lured over there? Do you not watch the news?!” She shrugged, completely unfazed. “Well, poor kids need to be taught a lesson anyway. So what if he gets beaten? That’s what he gets for having useless, broke parents.” Okay. Fine. Since you want to be this vicious, I have absolutely no reason to show you any mercy. You can just wait for someone else to deliver the devastating truth. I called the waiter over for the check, ready to part ways. She pulled out her phone, smirking. “Like I said, financial boundaries. Don’t think just because your family is in crisis I’m going to treat you to lunch. We’re splitting the check.” I gave a tight smile. “Of course we’re splitting it. I’m not the type to take advantage of people. I hope you aren’t either.” She raised an eyebrow. “God wouldn’t even give me the opportunity to take advantage of you, don’t you think?” She bobbed her head, deliberately trying to piss me off. Right at that moment, a notification popped up in the university parents’ group chat. Chloe’s son and mine were in the same program, so she received it too. [URGENT: A major incident has occurred. Several male students from our university have been lured overseas to international scam compounds under the false promise of high-paying jobs. The school will hold an emergency safety presentation this afternoon in the main auditorium. We strongly urge all local parents to attend.] Chloe immediately sat up straight, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Oh my god, some real drama?! I am absolutely going to watch this.” I had originally planned to work overtime this afternoon, and since I knew my son was safe, I didn’t want to wade into this mess. But Chloe grabbed my wrist tightly. “Let’s go, let’s go! Your son got kidnapped, you need to meet the other parents! You can all trauma-bond together.” Fine, let’s go, I thought. I can’t wait to see your face when you realize it’s your son who’s gone. We walked out to the restaurant’s parking garage. “I’m not riding in your car,” Chloe announced. “I’ll drive mine. Riding in cheap cars makes me motion sick.” I tilted my head but didn’t respond. I got into my Honda, and as I drove past her, I saw her staring blankly at an empty parking spot. “Huh? Where’s my car?” She looked back at me. “Maybe my car was just too luxurious, and one of Richard’s friends borrowed it. I’ll call him right now and tell him to bring it back.” She dialed her husband’s number. It rang and rang. No one answered. I slammed on the gas and sped off. Goodbye, my dearest best friend. You aren’t getting that car back. Your beloved husband already gave it to his creditors to pay off his gambling debts. And don’t you dare ride in my car. Cheap cars make you nauseous, remember? I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw Chloe, teetering in her three-inch designer heels, sprinting frantically after my car. She was waving her arms, screaming at the top of her lungs, “Sarah! Stop! Stop the car! Take me with you! Take me!” I pretended I didn’t hear a thing and sped out of the parking lot. Chloe arrived at the university auditorium ten minutes after I did. Her hair was a windblown mess, and she stood at the entrance panting heavily, scanning the room. The second she saw me, she aggressively stomped over. I smiled at her. “Oh hey, did your husband bring your car back? That was pretty fast!” “Screw you! You did that on purpose! You heard me screaming for you, and you purposely didn’t stop!” She collapsed into the seat next to me, ripped a water bottle out of her designer purse, and chugged it aggressively. I suppressed a laugh. “What? You were screaming for me? But you said you couldn’t ride in my cheap car. Why were you calling me?” She waved me off irritably. “Enough, just drop it.” I tugged her sleeve. “How did you get here?” Her chest heaved with fury. “Don’t even get me started! My husband is being so weird. He suddenly froze my credit cards, and I couldn’t even link a rideshare app.” “Your family is so wealthy and you only rely on credit cards? You don’t have any cash on you at all?” She rolled her eyes disdainfully. “What do you know? We rich people have credit limits you can’t even imagine. Plus, our cash flow is always tied up in investments making more money. I wouldn’t expect a poor person like you to understand. Just shut up and let’s listen to what the administrators have to say.” Did she literally run all the way here? The more I thought about it, the funnier it got. I zipped my lips and looked straight ahead. On the stage, the university representative gave a broad overview of scam awareness and explained the current crisis. A photo was projected onto the massive screen behind them. “As you can see, parents, this photo was secretly taken by a bystander near the border crossing. We can’t clearly make out how many students are in the group. We ask that all parents try to contact their children right now so we can begin the process of elimination.” Chloe stretched her neck out like a giraffe and practically yelled, “Look at the one in the blue hoodie! Sarah, that is one hundred percent your son.” “What did I tell you? Your family is broke, so your kid was easy prey.” “Hahaha, it’s definitely him! Big head, thick neck, that’s your boy! I have 20/20 vision, I’d never mistake that.” I let out a heavy sigh. She really had the ultimate mother’s blind spot. Her son had completely let himself go after starting college. He had gained forty pounds and looked incredibly sloppy, but she was completely oblivious to it. I nudged her arm. “Do you want to try calling your son?” She squinted at me mockingly. “What, do you honestly think my son would go commit fraud for a few extra pennies?” “Fine, fine, I’ll call him just to prove it to you!” She pulled out her phone and dialed Tyler’s number. It rang for a long time. No one picked up. She laughed awkwardly. “I bet his dad picked him up. Those two are practically joined at the hip. They go fishing together all the time. It’s so boring, I never go with them.” My heart hammered in my chest. Are they really out fishing? I quickly texted my husband: [Did you know Richard takes his son out fishing all the time?] My husband replied instantly: [Fishing? Yeah right. That’s just the excuse they give Chloe. Those two go to sketchy underground strip clubs and brothels together.] I bit my lower lip hard, glancing over at Chloe, who had just pulled out her compact mirror to fix her makeup. How could she possibly care about her makeup at a time like this? Tom sent another text: [Do not tell Chloe this, but Richard is completely bankrupt. He owes millions to loan sharks. I bet Tyler knows too. The whole family has been keeping Chloe in the dark.] A cold sweat broke out on my back. I couldn’t even fathom how Chloe was going to react when she found out the truth. But honestly, I was a little eager to see it. The administrator on stage raised the microphone again. “If any parents have been unable to reach their children, please come to the front desk after the presentation to register. Um, would any parents like to say a few words? If not, we will conclude—” Before the administrator could finish, Chloe shot up from her seat, waving her hand wildly. “I have something to say! Me, me, me!” The administrator leaned back, clearly startled, but maintained a polite smile. “Alright, let’s welcome this mother to the stage to share her thoughts.” Chloe practically skipped up the stage in her heels, her face glowing with pride. She snatched the microphone right out of the administrator’s hand. A sharp burst of feedback blasted through the speakers. Everyone in the auditorium covered their ears. “Ow! Watch it!” “Who is this woman? She has no manners.” “Seriously, she’s acting like this is her personal stand-up special.” “Let’s see what kind of garbage comes out of her mouth.” Chloe cleared her throat and began a speech that completely shattered everyone’s perception of human decency. “Hello, teachers and parents. I am Tyler Davis’s mother. My name is Chloe. Chloe, as in flawless luxury. I’m sure you’ve all heard of us, considering our family is incredibly wealthy. Tyler has the highest monthly allowance of any student in his class. I’m sure your children are deeply envious of Tyler and have probably mentioned our family to you at home. As a successful and capable parent, I’m here to share my personal perspective. I believe that if your child was lured away to work in a scam ring, the primary responsibility lies entirely with you, the parents! If you weren’t so useless and actually provided your kids with enough money, would they have been tricked? At the end of the day, you people never deserved to have kids in the first place. Useless people breed useless children. Even if they hadn’t been kidnapped, they’d be completely worthless after graduation anyway. Honestly, they might as well go run scams. Who knows, they might actually make some real money for once.” By this point, the crowd was in an uproar. Some parents were shouting curses at her, while others muttered furiously. “Who the hell do you think you are?! How dare you judge us?!” “Trash! Who knows what kind of dirty money your family makes. You need to be investigated!” “You’re just a housewife spending your husband’s money! What are you acting so high and mighty for?!” “Get off the stage!” The entire auditorium erupted into a furious chant. “Get off the stage!” “Get out of here!” But Chloe just tilted her chin up, flashing a sickeningly arrogant smile. “See? This is exactly how poor people act. You deserve to be suppressed! You deserve to be mistreated! And look what happened. Your kids got trafficked. They’re probably getting beaten half to death by cartels right now. They are suffering for your sins! I advise you all not to even bother trying to raise ransom money. Hundreds of thousands of dollars? You couldn’t scrape that together if you sold your own blood. For the sake of the living, I highly suggest you just cut your losses and abandon your kidnapped children. If your bodies are still capable, just make a new kid. If not, just accept your miserable lives. It’s called cutting your losses!” “Screw your losses!” a father roared. “You don’t get to talk about our children like that!” “Yeah! Who do you think you are?!” “Watch it be her own son who got kidnapped. I’d love to see her brag then!” “Honestly, the kid in the photo looks exactly like her son Tyler. Same thick neck and chubby face!” Chloe suddenly raised the microphone, and another piercing shriek of feedback echoed through the hall. Over the noise, she screamed, “Impossible! My family is rich! My son would never be desperate for money! The blurry boy in that photo is Sarah Miller’s son! His name is Jake!” But right at that exact moment, the administrator turned and stared at the auditorium doors. Through her lapel mic, her voice carried clearly across the sudden silence. “Jake Miller? Do you need something?” Chloe’s face twisted into an expression uglier than if she had just swallowed dirt. She whipped her head around toward the entrance. There, my son Jake strode confidently into the auditorium. “Excuse me, I’m looking for my mom. I heard the presentation was over. I didn’t realize it was still going on, I’m so sorry.” The administrator gave him a warm smile. “It’s alright, come on in.” My son stood tall, his posture straight, looking a bit leaner than usual. He had probably been training hard for his sports team recently. The administrator smiled at him. “Are you here to ask your mom for your allowance? You need to be a bit more frugal, you know.” Jake nodded politely. “Yes, I know. But actually, I’m here to take my mom shopping. I recently picked up a part-time job tutoring, and I saved up some money. I wanted to buy my mom a beautiful new outfit.” The expressions of all the parents in the room instantly melted into pure warmth. “What an incredible kid.” “He’s the absolute perfect son.” “I really need to get my boy to be friends with him.” But Chloe’s mouth fell open, stretching wider and wider in sheer disbelief, before her eyes filled with toxic venom. Someone in the audience yelled out, “Hey, Tyler’s mom! Weren’t you absolutely certain that Jake was the one who got trafficked? He’s standing right here! So who do you think that boy in the photo is?!”

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I’ve been married to Carter Hayes for ten years. I’ve met every single girlfriend he’s had since our wedding day. Whenever he gets bored and wants to move on to someone new, I become his go-to excuse for the breakup: “If you marry me, you’ll end up exactly like her. Eventually, we’ll just be too familiar with each other—so familiar that there’s not a single spark of excitement left.” On our tenth wedding anniversary, I was wiping the tears of the college girl he had just dumped, while he was out taking his brand-new girlfriend to the movies. After using up an entire pack of tissues on her, I felt like I was looking at a ghost of my past self. So, I finally asked Carter for a divorce. He looked unusually confused. “Can’t you wait a little longer? Maybe I’m just about to turn over a new leaf.” I smiled faintly and didn’t answer. Instead, I booked a flight across the ocean. I’m not waiting for you to turn around. I’m moving on first. Chapter 1 Marrying a playboy requires the patience of a saint. Watching the pack of tissues in my hand dwindle to nothing, that thought randomly popped into my head. The girl sitting across from me was Riley, a college senior. She had been sobbing for two hours straight since she walked through the door of the cafe. Her honeymoon phase with Carter had lasted barely a month. There was really no need to cry so hard her mascara ran down her cheeks. I opened my mouth to comfort her, but she suddenly glared at me with bloodshot eyes. “He told me I look a little bit like you. Looking at you now, I guess I do.” I paused. None of Carter’s previous exes had ever said that to me. Riley sniffled and wiped the corners of her eyes. Done with my tissues, she turned to mockery. “I don’t need your comfort. You’re way more pathetic than I am.” Wasn’t that the truth? Everyone in New York’s high society knew Carter Hayes had married the perfect, understanding wife. So understanding that she allowed herself to be cheated on time and time again, and even helped him soothe his discarded lovers. Every girl he dated after our wedding, I politely referred to as his “exes.” I had completely thrown away the dignity of a legal wife. My phone buzzed on the table. It was a text from Carter. [Carter: Are you done yet? The movie is about to start.] I placed the phone face down and met Riley’s increasingly red eyes. “Whatever financial compensation you want, just say the word. I’ll fight for it on your behalf.” I had said these exact words countless times. I was as practiced as an HR rep handing out severance packages. She scoffed and stood up abruptly. “I don’t want anything.” I sighed. “You really should ask for something.” Money, a car, a condo—something solid she could actually hold onto. Her gaze grew even colder. She raised her iced latte and slowly, deliberately, poured it right over my head. “I’m pregnant.” “And I’m keeping the baby.” I stared at her, speechless, forgetting to offer any more advice. I forced a bitter smile, hiding it as best I could. Carter, you promised me one thing, and you couldn’t even keep that promise. Chapter 2 I sat in the passenger seat, dripping wet and shivering. Carter was on the phone. He made no effort to hide it. I could easily tell he had a new girl by his side. My hand unconsciously gripped the seatbelt, my fingertips turning white from the pressure. I didn’t know what the person on the other end said, but his eyes crinkled with a genuine, affectionate smile. “Alright, alright, I’ll come keep you company tonight.” He hung up, started the car, and tilted his head slightly toward me. His hands suddenly tightened on the steering wheel, and his face darkened into a scowl. “Did she throw that on you?” I had already pulled out some napkins from the glovebox and was methodically dabbing at my wet hair. Maybe because I didn’t answer, he leaned over and snatched the napkins from my hand. “Don’t move.” I instinctively shrank back toward the passenger door, but he yanked me into his arms with a cold glare. He wiped my hair somewhat carefully, though his brows were deeply furrowed and he looked furious. “You just sat there and let her pour it on you?” “Eleanor, what happened to that fiery spirit you used to use on me?” Used to… The hollow, sinking feeling that had taken root in my chest since seeing Riley began to spread, inch by inch. I pulled myself out of his embrace with a cold expression and said flatly, “I can hardly lose my temper at a pregnant woman, can I? What do you think?” He looked sheepish for a moment, but his jaw remained tight as he stubbornly continued to wipe my hair. We didn’t speak for the rest of the drive. He drove, and I stared out the window. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him shooting me probing glances. The ripples of disappointment in my heart spread outward. Disappointment had long ago crossed the mountains of despair and settled into pure numbness. I watched the movie absentmindedly, while Carter spent almost the entire time looking down at his glowing screen, replying to texts. The so-called “ritual” of our anniversary had crumbled into ruins long before the credits rolled. The funny part was, after the movie ended, I still had to sit beside him and watch him perform. It was a lavish anniversary dinner with close friends and family. The Hayes family had sent out the invitations to New York’s elite half a month in advance. Amidst the clinking of champagne glasses and networking, Carter peeled shrimp for me with his own hands while chatting with the guests. A small mountain of peeled shrimp piled up on my plate, but I just stared blankly at his exposed wrist where his sleeve was rolled up. Whose hair tie was he wearing? The nausea churning in my stomach had already killed my appetite. A man who peels shrimp for you doesn’t necessarily love you. A man who remembers your anniversary after ten years of marriage doesn’t necessarily love you. A man who never takes off his wedding ring, even in the shower, doesn’t necessarily love you. I should thank Carter. He was the one who taught me all of this. Chapter 3 Childhood sweethearts, perfect matches, meant to be. But those words were meant for Carter and my older sister, Evelyn. Even when I barely understood what love was, I knew the Davis and Hayes families were planning a marriage alliance. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen my sister’s blushing cheeks when she went on dates with him. Or how the notoriously arrogant and wild Carter Hayes would become perfectly calm and quiet only in front of her. Otherwise, why would my young, naive self have quietly hidden away the vintage vinyl records I had spent months hunting down for him? In our trio, I was always just my sister’s shadow. When their love was shining as bright as the midday sun, where was there any room for me? The tragedy struck when Evelyn was twenty. My always elegant and poised sister ran away the night before her engagement party, only to die in a commercial plane crash. When her diary was uncovered, the ugly truth came out. The impending bankruptcy and internal crises facing the Davis family were stripped of their glamorous disguise. It turned out her shyness was faked. My sister had been forced to act as a bargaining chip for our parents. Behind the arranged marriage wasn’t a perfect romance, but my parents’ desperate greed. The one time she chose herself, it cost her her life. Carrying the last hopes of the Davis family, I was rushed into an engagement and marriage. To save the Hayes family’s face, and to save the Davis family from financial ruin. Throughout the entire process, I didn’t even have time to figure out if I was feeling more grief for my sister or joy for myself. Even as a replacement, I still ended up marrying the boy I had secretly loved since I was a teenager. But when we exchanged rings, I was the only one whose heart was racing. During the “you may kiss the bride” moment, Carter’s lips barely grazed mine, leaving behind a whisper that would haunt us both for years. “If you didn’t want to do this, why force yourself?” At the time, we agreed it was a transaction—we both got what we needed. But over ten years of marriage, I was the one who overstepped. He did everything for me flawlessly as a husband, yet he still didn’t love me. Chapter 4 The dinner party ended past midnight. I couldn’t tell if it was the wine going to my head or just a simple, pounding headache. I got into the car and fell into a deep, groggy sleep. Faintly, I could hear Carter on speakerphone, flirting with his new girl. Those sweet nothings, twisting and turning with affection. He never got tired of saying them, but I was sick of hearing them. During a pause in the conversation, he seemed to reach over and touch my forehead. Suddenly, the car slammed on the brakes, and he let out a harsh curse. “Fuck. Why didn’t you say you had a fever?” He hung up his call abruptly and clumsily draped his suit jacket over me. I thought I heard him call me by my childhood nickname, Ellie. I must have been delirious from the fever. I managed a bitter smile. He always called me by my full name, Eleanor, terrified that if he used a pet name, I might delude myself into thinking I was the Davis daughter he actually wanted to marry. People are probably more fragile—and more clear-headed—when they’re sick. A deep exhaustion washed over me. Exhaustion toward him, and toward this unrequited love. The car started moving again, the speed making it hard to tell how fast we were going. He seemed to be constantly answering his phone. “Almost there,” “Get a doctor ready,” “It’s going to be okay.” Or maybe it was just a hallucination. Until the car stopped again. I struggled to lift my heavy head and watched him unbuckle his seatbelt and jump out of the car. He sprinted toward a frail silhouette standing near the ER entrance. Riley was tightly engulfed in his arms. Those fragmented phrases I had heard earlier finally pieced together into a complete picture. “Wait for me,” “Don’t do anything rash,” “I’m almost there,” “Be good,” “It’s going to be okay.” Every single word had been for her. From a short distance away, I could hear her pathetic sobbing. And I could hear him gently coaxing her. “How could I let you do something that hurts your body?” “Alright, alright, we won’t break up. We’ll figure out the baby situation together.” The thoughts swirling in my head dragged up a deeply buried, painful memory. Six months into our marriage, I had actually been pregnant. Chapter 5 Back then, I was walking on eggshells in the Hayes household while constantly running around putting out financial fires for my parents. Before I even realized I was pregnant, the baby’s heartbeat had already stopped. I would never forget Carter’s freezing voice outside my hospital room. “It’s for the best. It shouldn’t have existed in the first place.” After that day, we seemed to reach an unspoken understanding. He went back to being a playboy. As long as the Davis family was kept afloat. He could date whoever he wanted, as long as he didn’t marry them, and as long as… no one got pregnant. Now, he was the one who broke the promise first. The Davis family had become an empty shell following the passing of my parents a few years ago. And as for him, I didn’t want to force it anymore. I leaned against the car window, every breath I exhaled burning hot. I watched him calm Riley down before he finally came back to me. He opened the car door, draped my arm over his neck, and carried me all the way into the ER. Looking over his shoulder, I saw Riley sniffle and shoot me a look of pure contempt. As he walked past her, she unwillingly tried to grab his shirt. But she missed. He walked with long, purposeful strides, his handsome face set in a grim expression. He always managed to give me these illusions; no matter how long he wandered, he would always turn back to me. But this time, I shook my head. I was the first to wake up. “Carter, let’s get a divorce.” His footsteps faltered, but his eyes didn’t meet mine. “Hmm?” “A divorce. Okay?” The expression on his face was complicated—shifting from dark to confused, before finally settling into a soft chuckle. “Why not wait a little longer? Maybe in a few years…” He glanced at me, his smile full of mockery. “I’ll actually settle down.” I smiled too, my eyes burning. The fever was probably spiking again. “What do we do, then? There’s no spark left. We might as well just be bros.” In an instant, Carter’s face froze. His jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his cheek bulged. “Still not enough spark for you?” My vision was already blurring with tears, but I forced myself to keep smiling. “We never should have gotten married. It should have been exactly like you said back then.” “‘Eleanor Davis? I’d rather be blood brothers with her!’” Chapter 6 Carter obviously didn’t need to be “bros” with me anymore. The Davis family had thoroughly drained the Hayes family’s resources over the last ten years. We had become nothing but a burden. So when news of our impending divorce leaked, everyone in the Hayes family seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. I pushed through my raging fever, forced myself to sign the divorce papers, and then fell into a coma-like sleep for two days. When I woke up, the papers on my nightstand already had Carter’s signature at the bottom. I stared at it for a few seconds. Beneath the numbness, I felt a twinge of guilt. The agreement wasn’t exactly noble, let alone generous on my part. Over the years, every time I helped him deal with one of his “exes,” he would wire me a lump sum. I saved every single penny, yet here I was in the property division, ruthlessly paving my own financial way out. As shrewd as he was, he definitely saw through my “insatiable greed.” But he signed it without a moment of hesitation anyway. It left me feeling hollow for a long time. Maybe he had been waiting for me to say the word “divorce” all along. Even if it meant paying me off, it was better than being shackled to me in a miserable marriage for another ten years. My temperature was finally back to normal. I dragged my aching body up to pack my bags. Ten long years of my life, packed away into barely two suitcases. I dragged them downstairs. The maids and the driver watched me awkwardly. “Mrs… Ms. Davis, should we notify Mr. Hayes that you’re leaving?” I shook my head. “No need.” And so, no one said goodbye, and no one stepped forward to help. They froze for a couple of seconds before returning to their chores. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. Even they knew I was nothing more than a passing guest in this house. When the towncar I called pulled out of the Hayes estate, I didn’t look back. The memories that had started in my childhood had finally come to an end. In the heavy silence of the car, the driver asked, “Do you need a tissue, miss?” Only then did I realize my face was wet with tears. I was supposed to feel liberated. But a bird locked in a cage for too long will always feel terrified when the door suddenly swings open. From the estate to JFK airport, I printed my boarding pass and threw away my SIM card. The moment I sat in my seat on the plane, I fell into a deep sleep. These past few days, I felt like I had an endless supply of exhaustion. I had lost my center of gravity. I just wanted to retreat into my dreams and silently lick my wounds. Twelve hours later, I touched down in London. Chapter 7 At that moment, I had no idea that Carter was tearing New York apart trying to find me. London was where Evelyn had always wanted to go. She never made it, but I did. Wandering the gloomy, fog-covered streets, I often caught myself hallucinating that I was Evelyn. No one knew that my grueling dedication to painting didn’t come from a genuine passion. It was just because painting made me more like her. By some twist of fate, Evelyn eventually gave up and never picked up a brush again. Instead, I was the one put on a pedestal, hailed as a genius whose canvas could speak. My ten years of marriage to Carter were also the peak of my artistic career. Now, dozens of those pieces were on display in London’s largest modern art museum. I spent half a month in a complete daze before finally stepping into the gallery on the very last day of the exhibition. As expected, the crowd was sparse. Bundled in my trench coat, I took my time, lingering freely in front of each piece. I passed Combustion and Caged Bird, finally stopping in front of Bloom. Someone stopped beside me. Like me, his gaze fell on the withered girl’s face on the canvas. “‘Bloom.’ Using life itself as fuel, only to be a moth drawn to a futile flame.” He chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. When he turned to look at me, it felt like he was looking through me at someone else. The look filled me with disgust. For the past ten years, Carter had given me that exact same feeling. I stepped away, but he followed me at a leisurely pace. “You two look very much alike.” My footsteps faltered, my fingers involuntarily curling inward. His eerie voice drifted over. “Evelyn always said you had more natural talent for painting than she did.” “She also said you were more suited to marry into the Hayes family. She said you were born with wings and could never be trapped.” My palms were beginning to sweat. His tone shifted, his smile now dripping with mockery. “But she never imagined you’d be stupid enough to break your own wings and willingly play the puppet.” A sharp pain pierced my chest. Unable to tolerate it any longer, I turned and glared at him. “Ethan Brooks, isn’t it enough that you got her killed…” Before I could finish my sentence, I stared in shock at a furious Carter Hayes standing just a few feet away. He stalked toward us, his entire body radiating a freezing, murderous aura. Without a word, he grabbed my arm and physically ripped me away from Ethan. The fury boiling in his eyes was tinged with bitter sarcasm. “Looking for a spark? It seems the Davis sisters have the exact same terrible taste in men.” With his free hand, he lunged forward, grabbing Ethan by the throat and slamming him violently against the gallery wall. With a deafening crash, Carter ground out every word through his teeth. “Didn’t I tell you I never wanted to see your face again?” Chapter 8 Ethan just leaned casually against the wall, making no effort to break free. “Mr. Hayes, if you had just approved that investment funding you promised, why would I have needed to come find her?” He glanced sideways at me, his eyes full of contempt. “Your family owes me Evelyn’s life. No amount of money will ever be enough.” I listened in a daze as Carter’s grip tightened. Ethan’s face started turning a dark, mottled red. “Wait…” I had seen Ethan before. When the airline confirmed Evelyn’s plane had crashed with no survivors, he showed up at the Davis estate. It was the first time I had ever seen a walking corpse. It looked as if all the life in him had died alongside my sister. He knelt on the floor, slamming his forehead against the marble tiles until blood streamed down his face. “I just want to take some of Evelyn’s things. Her clothes, anything… please.” But my parents, blindingly furious, just beat him mercilessly before having the guards drag him out and throw him onto the street. Carter finally snapped out of his rage and abruptly released his grip. He waved his hand impatiently. “Get out. Go see my assistant for your money.” The bodyguards who had followed Carter into the gallery moved to grab Ethan and drag him away. I rushed forward two steps. “Wait, what did you mean by what you just said…” Carter blocked my path, his hands clamping down on my shoulders like iron vises. “It’s nothing. Come back with me.” I violently wrestled myself out of his grip, lunging forward to grab Ethan’s collar. “You just want money, right? I’ll pay you! Explain exactly what you just meant!” My heart was hammering in my chest. A wave of unprecedented panic made my breathing ragged. Ethan brushed the guards off and casually looked past me at Carter. “Last month, while I was waiting for that investment check of yours to clear, I had an epiphany.” “Ten years is more than enough time to prove that I’m just not cut out to be a businessman. No matter what industry I try, the money just burns.” “So when I heard the news that you two were getting a divorce, I finally let it all go.” “There’s one more free person in this world now. The only tragedy is that it isn’t my Evelyn.” He looked down at me, his eyes burning with intensity. “The night before her engagement, Carter knew exactly what Evelyn was planning.” “The people who helped her sneak out of the Davis estate were hired by Carter. Even the plane ticket…” “Carter bought it for her.” An echo swirled in my ears, dragging me back ten years to a specific memory. Through a cracked door, I had overheard my parents pleading pathetically with Carter. “Should we just move the wedding up? The announcement only said a union between the Hayes and Davis families, it didn’t specify which daughter…” After a few seconds of dead silence, Carter’s voice responded, completely devoid of emotion. “The sooner the better. I refuse to let the Hayes family’s reputation sink to the same pathetic level as yours.” Chapter 9 Ethan laughed recklessly. “You did everything in your power to marry her, and for what? You spent ten years turning her into the biggest joke in New York.” Having my pathetic reality laid bare like that made me want to disappear into the floorboards. But I still couldn’t understand. Why did Carter help my sister run away? “Why? Why did you let her go, only to turn around and torture my family?” Carter pressed his thin lips tightly together, his hands clenching into fists. After a long time, he let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Because she wasn’t the one I loved.” “Your parents completely misunderstood my intentions. They tried to use Evelyn as a bargaining chip.” “I went to your house constantly. Whenever Evelyn and I went anywhere, I made sure you came with us. But you never even looked me in the eye.” I thought my ears were ringing. Was that an undercurrent of resentment in his voice? His clenched fists slowly relaxed, and he stared at me, looking utterly lost. “I gave Evelyn her freedom, and I got to marry you, just like I wanted.” “But I knew from the very beginning that you were forced into it. Evelyn’s death, your family’s endless scheming… all of it stood like a wall between us.” I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. Was that really the only thing standing between us? Ethan walked over, pulled a yellowed envelope from his coat pocket, and handed it to me. “Evelyn left this for you. Ten years ago, if she had landed safely, this letter would have reached you back then.” The envelope was scorched at the edges. Inside were two expired exhibition tickets. Attached was a small note in Evelyn’s elegant handwriting. [Ellie, be brave. Only by doing what I did will you find true happiness.] Carter’s eyes darkened instantly, and he snatched the note from my hand. He stared at me in total, absolute disbelief. The familiar sense of emotional distance washed over me again. I looked up at him slowly. “Evelyn actually knew everything.” “She knew how much I loved you back then.” “Do you remember my very first solo exhibition? The one that got cancelled? The entire gallery was filled with portraits of you.” A bitter smile floated to my lips. “I was afraid it would break my sister’s heart if she saw it, so I painted a few portraits of her and scattered them around as a cover.” “I told her it was a gift for your one-year anniversary.” I had spent three grueling months preparing for it, and anxiously slipped the tickets into my sister’s desk drawer. But when I walked downstairs, the joyous, celebratory atmosphere hit me like a physical blow. The next day was their engagement party. Chapter 10 The language of a paintbrush never lies. Evelyn must have peeked under the white sheet covering my easel countless times. She saw all the hidden, unspoken longing in my strokes as I sketched Carter’s face. Now that everything was out in the open, I could finally look back at the past through a different lens. The time we went on the Ferris wheel… she claimed she was afraid of heights and pushed me into the cabin alone with Carter. When we got off, she smiled brightly and stared at us. “You know, looking at you two side-by-side, you actually look pretty good together.” My face had burned bright red. I was terrified she had seen right through my secret crush. But Carter just looked away. “Eleanor? I’d rather be blood brothers with her.” His tone was teasing. “She’s such a quiet little introvert. Come on, call me ‘Big Bro,’ and I’ll protect you from now on.” I ran away from them with a burning red face, the sound of my racing heart drowning in a surge of deep sorrow. After that day, I always used painting as an excuse to hide in the studio. I avoided all their invitations. I couldn’t lock my heart away when I was young, but thankfully, Carter spent the next ten years cementing it shut for me. Meeting his gaze now, there was no flutter in my chest. The sudden flash of ecstatic realization in his eyes vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced entirely by confusion and panic. “You mean… back then, you…” It didn’t matter anymore. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and walked toward the exit. Carter chased after me frantically. Outside the museum, he grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to face him. “Why didn’t you tell me?! We had so many years, why didn’t you say anything?!” “Did you really have to wait until…” I finished his sentence for him, my voice perfectly calm. “Until everything was damaged beyond repair, and all the love was completely burned out? Yes.” He was struck speechless for a moment, then slowly exhaled, a long-lost look of relief washing over his face. “It doesn’t have to be like this. We’re still legally married. We can tear up the divorce papers right now.” I gently pushed his hands away and took a step back, creating distance between us. “But my desire to leave you hasn’t changed.” He stared at me, aghast. “Even after finding out the truth? Nothing changed?” “Nothing.” His face instantly darkened like a thundercloud. I spoke slowly. “I always regretted that you never got to see that exhibition where I planned to confess to you.” “I booked this exhibition all the way out here because I assumed you wouldn’t be interested in coming.” “But since you’re here, take a look. Every single painting on these walls is my final goodbye.”

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In my past life, I shamelessly threw myself at the school’s golden boy. The day I died from incurable cancer was the very day he threw the “wedding of the century” for his childhood sweetheart. Reborn, I found myself back on the exact day I had originally confessed my love to him. With everyone watching, I marched straight past him and slammed my love letter onto the desk of the school’s notorious bad boy. The silver-haired delinquent opened his eyes from his nap, staring blankly at the envelope covered in hand-drawn hearts: “?” Me: “Here. Scrap paper.” 1 The classroom fell dead silent. The silver-haired guy slowly lifted his head, revealing a strikingly aggressive, predatory face. Sharp brows, a high-bridged nose. He even had a silver stud in his right earlobe. Dangerously attractive. I heard a few sharp intakes of breath around me. I couldn’t tell if it was from awe or sheer terror. I remembered him. Carter Sterling. Rumor had it that if you picked any three buildings on campus, his family had donated at least one of them. Because of this, he wasn’t just respected as “Carter.” He had another nickname: “The Landlord.” A guy next to him joked, “Damn, Carter, you’re a magnet! Got girls bringing the romance right to your desk?” Carter let out a low chuckle and told him to screw off. His tone was lazy, almost affectionate. After swearing at his buddy, he turned back to me. “What do you want?” I answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I want to sit next to you. Is that a problem?” Another round of gasps echoed through the room. This time, I knew for sure: it was pure shock. Carter propped his head on his hand, flashing a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I never let anyone sit next to me. What makes you think you’re special?” We locked eyes. Neither of us backed down. I gritted my teeth. No. I don’t have a choice. There were only two empty seats left in the AP Honors class. If I didn’t sit next to him, I’d be stuck sitting next to Ethan Vance. And that was basically a death sentence. So, I just dropped my backpack and unceremoniously sat down, deciding to play dirty. Seeing this, Carter frowned in deep annoyance, looking like he was half a second away from tossing me out the window. “I just told you…” Before he could finish, I reached under the desk and grabbed his leg, pressing down hard. Carter’s expression instantly froze. I leaned in, dropping my voice so only he could hear. “Please. Just let me sit here. If I don’t, I have to sit next to Ethan Vance. You don’t know this, but he’s a total creep. When the classroom is empty, he crawls around on the floor like a gremlin. He steals girls’ skirts and wears them! I’ve had so many stolen that I had no choice but to…” It didn’t matter if Ethan couldn’t hear me. Honestly, it didn’t matter if he did. He deserved every bit of it. 2 The more I talked, the more animated I got. With every word, my grip tightened. And with every squeeze, Carter’s face grew darker. That lazy smirk from earlier completely vanished. By the end of my rant, his expression was practically thunderous. He squeezed out a single word through gritted teeth: “Fine.” I felt a twinge of confusion. Wasn’t he just acting all arrogant a second ago? Why did he cave so easily? And why did he look like a defeated king forced to surrender his throne under extreme duress? Wait… wasn’t his thigh a little… skinny? And… squishy? “Are you gonna keep fucking squeezing?!” Carter finally snapped, his patience snapping. I yanked my hand back like I’d been burned. Ahhhhhhh! That wasn’t his thigh! Ahhhhhh! I literally just “grabbed the king by his scepter” to force a surrender! Ahhhhh! 3 After the seating arrangements were finalized, Ethan Vance cornered me in the stairwell. “What is going on between you and Carter Sterling?” I had zero desire to entangle myself with him, so I shot back, “None of your damn business.” Ethan clearly didn’t expect me to snap at him. His brows knitted together. He threw his arm out, blocking my path. “Blair Kensington, Carter Sterling isn’t someone you can mess around with. Why did you give him a love letter?” Hearing this, combined with the agonizing memories of my past life, my temper instantly flared. “Who I mess around with is my business. What does it have to do with you?” I snarled. “And even if he’s terrible, he’s a hell of a lot better than someone who strings people along, never accepting them but never letting them go either!” It was the truth. If Ethan hadn’t constantly fed me breadcrumbs of hope every time I was about to give up in my past life—making me foolishly believe that if I just tried a little harder, I’d win him over—I never would have wasted years of my life loving him. Ethan’s face turned incredibly ugly. “Blair, what is that supposed to mean?” I crossed my arms and sneered. “It means I’m insulting you. Are you too stupid to realize that?” His expression darkened further. He was about to retort, but I was done wasting my breath on him. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Carter lounging down the hall. I frantically waved my arm and yelled, “Carter!” With everyone watching, Ethan had no choice but to drop his arm and let me pass. Before I walked away, he leaned in and hissed, “Blair, I’m incredibly disappointed in you.” I smiled sweetly, waving at Carter, and offered Ethan one simple word: “Choke.” 4 When I jogged up to Carter, I caught a faint whiff of tobacco. “Were you just smoking?” Carter gave a dismissive “Yeah,” then slapped his palm against my forehead, shoving me a good distance away. His voice was rough and raspy. “Secondhand smoke is bad for you. Stop sniffing.” I remembered that in my past life, he only stayed at our high school for three months. The rumor was that he transferred because of serious health issues. Almost as if possessed, I blurted out, “Firsthand smoke is bad for you too. Can you stop smoking?” I stared at him with wide, pleading eyes. His buddy, Leo, who was standing behind him, couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Damn, she hasn’t even locked you down yet and she’s already acting like a strict wife?” Hearing Leo say that, I realized how massively over the line my request was. Carter had no idea about our past life. To him, I was just some random girl he met less than 24 hours ago, demanding he quit smoking. It was insanely weird! — “I mean, you could just smoke less…” I started to backtrack. — “Yeah.” We spoke at the exact same time. I blinked. “Huh?” Carter brought his right fist to his mouth and let out a low cough. “I’ll quit.” Now I was the one standing there looking stupid. The legendary, terrifying school bad boy… was this obedient? 5 Ethan’s childhood sweetheart was Chloe Jenkins. In my past life, she transferred into the AP Honors class with me. I didn’t know Ethan was secretly in love with her, so I happily took the seat next to him. I had no idea he had specifically saved that seat for Chloe. No wonder Ethan hated me so much later on. No wonder he took my confession letter with such cruel malice and sneered, “Oh, scrap paper.” Back then, Chloe was too intimidated to sit next to Carter, so she volunteered to sit right by the teacher’s podium. That meant the two star-crossed lovers were separated by half the classroom. Looking back at Ethan’s psychological torment of me in my past life, he probably blamed me entirely for keeping him and Chloe apart. The funny thing was, in this life, Chloe got the seat right next to Ethan, just like she wanted. But now, he didn’t seem to care about her at all. Instead, he was stalking me every single day. Is this that “absence makes the heart grow fonder” bullshit? To avoid Ethan, I had to stick to Carter like glue. I practically followed him into the men’s restroom. Actually, I basically did. Every time Carter stood up, I’d immediately ask, “Going to the bathroom? I’ll come with you!” It got to the point where the second I appeared outside the men’s room, his crew would start catcalling. “Oh look, the boss’s wife is here to escort him to the urinal again!” “Can’t bear to be apart for a single second, huh~” “With a woman like this, what more could a man… Ouch!” Carter walked out, smacking Leo on the back of the head. A lollipop stick jutted out from the corner of his mouth. He narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about? Did you fail English lit or something?” Ever since he promised me he’d quit smoking, he hadn’t touched a single cigarette. He just bought out the school store’s entire stock of lollipops. Whenever the nicotine craving hit, he’d shove one in his mouth. I’d accidentally caught a glimpse of his stash. They were 100% strawberry flavored. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked up to me. “Let’s go, little shadow.” My face flushed. “What kind of nickname is that? Stop calling me that!” Carter leaned down, a wicked grin on his face. “Do you even know what the rest of the school is calling us? They say you’re my arranged child-bride, which is why you follow me around all day.” What the hell! I was literally just using him as a human shield against Ethan! While I was silently defending my honor in my head, Carter magically pulled a lollipop from his pocket, unwrapped it, and mouthed, “Say ah.” “Ah—” I looked at him suspiciously, but I still opened my mouth. A sweet, sugary taste instantly exploded across my tongue. Strawberry. “Why are you suddenly…” feeding me candy? Before I could finish the question, Carter had already turned around, strolling lazily back toward the classroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Ethan’s shadow darting past. I immediately scrambled after Carter. “Hey! Wait for me!” 6 A few days later, Ethan cornered me in the stairwell again. I pretended he was invisible and tried to sidestep him to go up the stairs. Ethan blocked my path with a thick stack of notebooks. “Move,” I snapped impatiently. Ethan frowned, his voice condescendingly soft. “These are my highlighted study notes. Midterms are in a few days. You won’t survive without these.” I didn’t reach for them. I just looked up, my eyes filled with pure mockery. Every time the school reorganized the classes, they held a placement midterm. It was designed to see if the new transfers could handle the AP workload, and to ruthlessly weed out anyone who just got lucky on the entrance exam. In my past life, I begged Ethan on my hands and knees to help me highlight the key concepts. He refused. He told me, “You only got into the AP class by sheer luck. You’re going to be kicked back down to standard eventually. Why drag it out?” He genuinely believed I was just a fluke. He refused to believe that back then, I loved him so much I was literally studying myself into an early grave just to stay near him. Eventually, I managed to secure the fifth-to-last spot, narrowly surviving the purge and staying in the AP class. Everyone was shocked. They all assumed Ethan had secretly tutored me. He never once bothered to correct them. And now? I was avoiding him like the plague, and he was willingly organizing his notes and serving them to me on a silver platter. I crossed my arms and laughed. “Whether I survive or not isn’t up to you. You act like you’re doing me a favor, but every word out of your mouth is an insult. Ethan, who gave you the audacity to look down on me?” Ethan’s face stiffened. He sighed heavily. “Stop acting tough. The most important thing right now is pulling your grades up…” I rolled my eyes. “Do you not speak English? I said I don’t need them.” Ethan reached out, fully intending to physically shove the notebooks into my chest. My natural instinct was to lean backward to avoid him. But I forgot I was standing on the edge of a concrete staircase. The terrifying sensation of weightlessness hit me, and I screamed, “Ahhhhhh—” But the agonizing crash never came. I fell backward into a solid chest that smelled strongly of strawberry candy. “Hiss… how long are you planning on laying on me?” I was so dazed staring at Carter’s flawless face that it took his voice to snap me back to reality. I had completely flattened him. That loud thud I heard a second ago was his back slamming against the concrete landing. “I-I-I’m so sorry…” Carter stood up, rolling his neck, and shot Ethan a deadly glare. “Are you gonna fuck off or what?” Ethan’s face turned pitch black. Without a word, he turned and stormed off. He never dared to go toe-to-toe with Carter Sterling. Once Ethan was gone, Carter just stood there in absolute silence. I felt incredibly guilty and quickly offered, “Should we head back to class?” Carter kept his head down. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Panicking that he was furious, I frantically started explaining. “He really did corner me! Ever since you told me to stay away from him, I’ve been avoiding him! I swear I…” “I know.” Carter cut me off. He lifted his head. There wasn’t a trace of anger on his face. He pointed down at his leg. “Can you help me get to the nurse’s office? I think I sprained my ankle.” Me: “…” I struggled to support Carter’s weight as he dramatically hopped down the stairs on one foot. “But seriously, you really avoided him just because I told you to? Am I really that important to you?” “…One more word and I’m shoving you down the rest of these stairs.” 7 Because Carter sprained his ankle saving me, the responsibility of taking care of him naturally fell to me. I fetched his water. I bought his lunch. I forged his gym class excuse notes. And under his absolute tyranny, I was forced to forge my own excuse notes. Just so I could stay in the empty classroom and keep him entertained. Between classes, Leo stared at the mountain of snacks and fruit piled on Carter’s desk and let out a wistful sigh. “Must be nice. If I knew the perks, I would’ve broken my own ankle.” Carter loudly crunched on an apple, shooting Leo a smug, arrogant look. “Does your desk buddy treat you this well?” Leo’s male desk buddy, who had been completely minding his own business, slowly looked up: “?” “But seriously, boss,” Leo continued, “what are you gonna do when you go home? You don’t have anyone there to take care of you…” The second half of his sentence died in his throat as Carter shot him a lethally dangerous glare. That instantly triggered a memory from my past life. The rumor was that even though Carter’s family had obscene wealth, his parents completely neglected him. They constantly forced him to transfer schools for their own business convenience, threw massive amounts of cash at him, and ignored his existence. Even though kids at school secretly joked, “If I had that much money, I wouldn’t care if my parents ignored me,” I figured that for Carter himself, it had to hurt. Thinking of that, I blurted out without thinking: “I’ll go to your house and take care of you.” The moment the words left my mouth, both Carter and Leo froze. Leo scratched his head, speaking first. “That’s real sweet of you, sister-in-law, but the boss literally never lets anyone into his penthouse…” “She can come.” Carter cut him off. I turned to look at him. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. He drawled, “A promise is a promise. No backing out now.” 8 Carter lived in the penthouse suite of a luxury high-rise in the financial district. I had always thought that building was strictly for multi-million dollar tech startups. I had no idea there were private residences up there. I walked in carrying the groceries I’d just bought. Carter pointed lazily toward the massive kitchen. “Put ’em over there.” I looked around frantically, trying to locate an apron. When I turned back, Carter was already wearing one. A terrifyingly handsome, aggressive bad boy wearing a frilly, pastel pink apron… It was actually kind of adorable. I asked in shock, “Wait, aren’t I supposed to be cooking?” Carter had already turned on the faucet and was aggressively washing a head of cabbage. He was leaning against the marble counter, his cast propped up, his brow furrowed in deep concentration like he was battling a mortal enemy. Specifically, the cabbage. While waiting for the pan to heat up, he unwrapped a strawberry lollipop, shoved it in his mouth, and mumbled around the stick, “I was just messing with you. You really think I’d make you cook? Today, you get to experience the master’s culinary genius.” I watched him flawlessly ignite the stove, perfectly julienne the pork, and expertly chop the vegetables. My shock grew exponentially by the second. Maybe my face gave it away, because Carter let out a low chuckle. “What, you thought I was just some spoiled rich kid who’s never touched a spatula?” I gave him a very honest, vigorous nod. He threw the pork into the sizzling oil, creating a massive hiss of steam. “You know my family is loaded, right?” Carter said over the noise. “Everyone at school calls me ‘The Landlord.’” “My parents are generous with cash, sure. But whenever we get into a massive fight, they instantly freeze all my accounts. They even warn all our relatives and family friends not to lend me a dime.” “One time, the fight got so bad they cut me off for six straight months. I literally couldn’t even afford UberEats. My neighbor took pity on me and gave me some raw vegetables. I ended up burning them to a crisp and couldn’t even eat them. But since that day, I forced myself to learn how to cook.” He turned back and gave me a wry smile. “So during that time, every time I walked past those buildings they donated to the school, I wanted to burn them down. Or sell them so I could buy a damn sandwich.” His expression was casual. There was no visible pain or fury. But I just knew, deep down, he wasn’t happy. Even his final joke was just a defense mechanism to keep the atmosphere from getting too depressing. I opened my mouth, completely unsure of how to comfort him. At the end of the day, every family had their own poison, right? “Actually…” Just as I started to speak, my phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, my brow instantly furrowed in disgust. After hesitating for three rings, I answered it. “Do you know what time it is?! Why aren’t you home yet?! Your brother wants dessert from Pan’s Bakery, make sure you buy some on your way back… Hello?! Are you deaf?!” I took a deep breath and hung up without a word. Carter saw my expression and asked, “Who was that?” “My dad.” “Oh.” The kitchen fell into a heavy silence. Neither of us pressed the issue. 9 “Oh, so you finally decided to show up?!” I opened the front door. The living room was pitch black. The moment I flicked the light switch, I saw three figures sitting dead center on the worn-out sofa. The man’s unfiltered rage suffocated the cramped apartment, mixing with the stench of cheap cigarettes. I looked at them with dead, empty eyes, having zero intention of entertaining their drama. “Yeah. I’m back.” I turned and headed straight for my bedroom. “Stop right there!” My apathy only acted like gasoline on the fire. A heavy glass cup flew past my ear, inches from my head. It slammed into the wall with a deafening CRASH, shattering into a thousand pieces. The glittering shards scattered across the cheap linoleum, perfectly reflecting my current emotional state: Numb. Exhausted. My mother’s voice whined from behind me. “Blair, what is wrong with you lately? Coming home so late every night, no one to cook dinner… Have you been hanging out with some shady crowd?” “Your father is just worried about you. Come here and apologize to him.” I slowly turned around, scanning the “happy family” of three. If this were my past life, I probably would have let my mother’s fake, gentle tone guilt-trip me. I would have walked over and apologized without a second thought. But having lived through this nightmare once already, my radar for their bullshit was flawless. Oh, so the real crime here is that I didn’t cook their dinner, huh? It was hilariously tragic. Just like in my past life, when I received my terminal cancer diagnosis. Terrified and desperate, I called them from the hospital. And their very first reaction was: “Well, we don’t know how much time you have left. Why don’t you give us the PIN to your bank accounts now, so we can give it to your brother?” Later, when I legally donated every cent of my life savings to charity, they rushed the hospital like rabid dogs. They literally tried to drag my dying body out of the hospital bed to force me to change my will. “You ungrateful bitch! You’d rather give our money to strangers than your own family?!” “Your brother is getting married! We need that money! How could you do this to us?!” It seemed like absolutely no one cared that the clock was rapidly ticking down on my life. Maybe that was the exact moment I realized they had never loved me. Starved for affection in my own home, I desperately tried to extract love from Ethan Vance. But because I had never experienced real love, I loved him in the most pathetic, humiliating way possible. In my past life, I was trapped in that toxic cycle, which ultimately led to my tragic end. In this life… I clenched my fists. “Are you deaf?! Where is the dessert from Pan’s I told you to buy?! Let me guess, you were out whoring around with some random guy and forgot! Ah!” I grabbed a ceramic mug off the entryway table and hurled it straight at his head. An eye for an eye. Perfectly fair. “Keep your filthy mouth shut.” Seeing that I actually dared to attack their precious golden boy, my parents absolutely lost their minds. “Blair Kensington, you have lost your damn mind! Let’s see if I don’t beat the life out of you today!” My dad rolled up his sleeves, lunging forward to grab me. Even though the mug had missed his face, my brother, Kyle, was still spooked. He jumped up and down, screaming, “I heard about you! You don’t even study! You’re just chasing some guy named Ethan at school! Was I wrong?! You’re out here whoring around, and now you have the nerve to hit me over some guy?!” “Good god, I can’t believe I raised such a shameless, disgusting daughter! Watch what I…” The living room descended into absolute chaos. Right before my dad’s hand clamped down on me, I twisted sideways, slipped into my bedroom, and slammed the door shut. THUD. The sound of his skull bouncing off the solid wood door. “Owww! Fuck! Blair, open this door! If you have the guts, don’t ever come out! You ungrateful bitch!” I locked the deadbolt, completely ignoring the violent pounding on the door. Ten minutes passed. The pounding escalated into the terrifying sound of a metal hammer smashing against the doorknob. If they kept this up, they’d breach the door in under five minutes. “You have a choice! You come out right now, or we smash this door to splinters! I’m counting to three! Three… Two…” I walked over and yanked the door open. “Looks like you still have some brains, you…” My dad probably thought I opened the door out of sheer terror. In this house, the sound I feared more than anything was his countdown. Because the second he hit “one,” a brutal beating was guaranteed. So when the door opened and he saw my dead, unblinking eyes, he was so shocked he actually choked on his words. I dragged my rolling suitcase behind me, walking past them like they were invisible. My mom panicked. “Blair, where do you think you’re going?!” Kyle scoffed from the side. “Oh, playing the runaway teenager card? Do you really think anyone in this house gives a shit about you?” In the past, a malicious, targeted insult like that would have gutted me. Now? I couldn’t care less. I turned around and looked at them. “This suitcase, and every piece of clothing inside it, was bought with money I earned from my part-time jobs. Over the years, I’ve paid for my own tuition and my own food, and I handed every spare cent I made over to you.” “I don’t owe you a single thing. If a judge ever rules that I’m legally obligated to pay for your elder care in the future, I will pay the court-mandated minimum. But until that day comes, I hope we never cross paths again. You disgust me.” With that, I dragged my tiny suitcase out the front door. It was sickeningly ironic. After living in this house for nearly two decades, I realized as I was leaving that I had bought literally every piece of clothing I owned. And my entire wardrobe fit into one small carry-on. My speech seemed to lobotomize all three of them. It wasn’t until I was halfway down the hall that I heard their delayed reactions echoing behind me. “Blair, what are you saying?! Are you really leaving?! Are you really that heartless, abandoning your own mother and father?!” “Why are you trying to stop her?! I told you, daughters are just ungrateful leeches! So much for being our ‘little angel’, I spit on her!” “Just let her leave, Mom! Let’s see how long she lasts on the streets. She’ll come crawling back here covered in dirt soon enough.” My grip tightened around the handle of my suitcase, and I smiled. How long will I last? Just sit back and watch. 10 The pathways in the apartment complex were dark. The sickly yellow streetlights stretched my shadow out long and thin. Staring at my own silhouette, a sudden, heavy wave of exhaustion washed over me. Admitting your parents don’t love you is an agonizingly difficult thing to do. Even when you logically know it isn’t your fault, you still can’t help but ask: “Is it because I wasn’t good enough? Is that why they love Kyle more?” “No.” !! My head snapped up. A boy in a gray hoodie was leaning casually against a rusted lamppost. The swirl of cigarette smoke blurred his features, but his eyes were piercingly bright. I stuttered, “W-what are you doing here?” When I left your penthouse after dinner, weren’t you getting ready for bed? Carter walked over and suddenly pulled me into a fierce, crushing embrace. His shoulders were broad, his chest radiating heat. I buried my face in his hoodie, listening to him speak with absolute, unyielding sincerity. “It is not your fault, Blair. You are incredible. They are the ones who are wrong.” So… he had heard the pathetic question I had unconsciously mumbled out loud. My voice was muffled against his chest. “Really?” Carter rested his chin on the top of my head and gave a firm nod. “Really. I never lie.” My nose started to sting. I desperately wanted to tell him: Carter, do you have any idea that this is the first time in my existence someone has so firmly chosen me? My lover in my past life, my own family… they all firmly chose to abandon me. I also wanted to say: Carter, your cheesy lines are so cliché. But thank you. It’s exactly what I needed. But the million thoughts swirling in my head finally bottlenecked, and what actually came out of my mouth was: “Carter Sterling… didn’t you promise me you’d quit smoking?” The warm embrace suddenly went rigid. The boy who had just looked capable of carrying the weight of the entire world instantly reverted back to a guilty, panicked high schooler. He mumbled defensively, “When I saw your face when you answered that phone call today, I knew something bad was gonna happen. I secretly followed you. When I heard the screaming coming from your apartment, I got so anxious I just…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I won’t do it again.” I looked up into his nervous, shifting eyes, and suddenly, I smiled. Honestly, he didn’t owe me any promises. My casual request had no real authority over him. But Carter still treated that single promise like it was sacred law. So this is what it feels like to be valued. To have someone willingly hand you their vulnerabilities on a silver platter, even when you have absolutely nothing to offer in return. Being stared at so intensely, a faint blush crept onto Carter’s cheeks. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, aggressively changing the subject. “So, what’s your plan now? You wanna crash at my place for a bit?” “Sure,” I answered without a second of hesitation. Honestly, the moment I walked out that door, I was already calculating my next move. Right now, my identity was “high school student.” I had zero income and no time to work a part-time job. Food and daily expenses were manageable. Eating at the school cafeteria cost next to nothing. Housing was the real nightmare. In this city, rent for a decent apartment was thousands of dollars a month. With my current status, it was a mathematical impossibility. Having Carter offer me a temporary sanctuary was a literal lifesaver. “But—” I added quickly, “I’m not freeloading. Once I get some cash together in a few weeks, I’ll pay you rent. Deal?” Carter had looked thrilled when I agreed so quickly. But the moment I mentioned paying rent, his brows snapped together in annoyance. However, the frown only lasted a second. He gave a sharp nod, validating my decision. I smiled gratefully, thanking him silently for protecting my pride. “So… where exactly are you planning on getting this cash?” Carter asked, raising an eyebrow. I gave him a highly mysterious smirk. “I have my ways.”

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At our high school reunion, the guy I secretly crushed on for three years, Liam, actually showed up. From the beginning to the end of the night, we didn’t exchange a single word. That was, until the party broke up, and I was the only one left to drag his drunk self back to his hotel room. Inside, I stared at him passed out on the bed, waging a violent internal war against my most earthly desires, and eventually managed to keep my hands to myself. I never expected him to show up at my front door the very next morning, looking deeply wronged as he asked: “How did you hold back?” I stared at him, completely bewildered. “Weren’t you blackout drunk?” He took a step closer. “I was drunk.” “I was faking it.” “But you… you stared at me for so long, and then you just left me there and went home.” 1 This class reunion was organized by our class president right before the holidays. Everyone was RSVPing in the group chat when our old sports captain suddenly tagged Liam. [Is Liam coming?] [Whoa! If Liam comes, Chloe will definitely be there, right?!] [Omg yes! My favorite high school ship is finally reuniting!] Scrolling through the messages, a bitter, sour feeling settled in my chest. Chloe was our school’s ‘It Girl’—radiant, beautiful, and from a wealthy family. Standing next to Liam, they really did look like a perfect match. As for me? The most interaction I ever got with Liam was when the teacher read out the test scores, and he’d throw a teasing comment my way: “Our class rep really is built different.” My crush was a secret I intended to take to my grave. I didn’t even have the courage to hold a normal conversation with him. I was terrified that a single look would give me away. After a long pause, Liam finally replied to the chat with a simple [1]. I privately messaged the class president to RSVP as well. The night of the reunion, I was sitting in a corner, chatting with some old friends about college life. Suddenly, Liam pushed the private room door open, with Chloe following closely behind him. The whole class erupted into cheers. “Liam and Chloe look so good together!” “I knew the only one who could tame Liam was Chloe!” Chloe smiled shyly, rolling her eyes playfully at the cheering crowd. “Alright guys, keep it down.” But Liam’s face suddenly turned ice cold. “Don’t talk nonsense.” He pushed through the crowd and walked straight over, sitting down right next to me. The room instantly went dead silent. Every single pair of eyes snapped toward us. I stiffened my neck, turned my head, and met Liam’s pitch-black eyes. “Long time no see, Class Rep.” I instantly chickened out. I just nodded at him, considering that a greeting. He was tall with incredibly long legs, and to avoid accidentally touching him, I shimmied closer to the wall. Liam shot me a sideways glance but didn’t say anything. My friend Jenna, sitting on my other side, frantically texted me. [Holy crap, why did Liam sit next to you? Since when are you guys this close?!] [I have no idea! Is it because I’m wearing a black jacket today and he literally didn’t see me sitting here?] […He’s not legally blind. But you better watch out, the look Chloe is giving you right now could literally kill you.] I sneaked a peek at Chloe. Her expression was completely thunderous. I texted Jenna back, saying I’d rather shrink into my seat and play dead than become cannon fodder in their drama. The class president quickly pulled Chloe to a seat, trying to smooth things over. Everyone started chatting again, reminiscing about high school, and the atmosphere slowly relaxed. Suddenly, Chloe walked over with her wine glass, leaned down, and smiled at me. “Sarah, do you mind swapping seats with me?” I looked up, meeting her perfectly composed, flawless smile. I was just stressing over how to escape this awkward situation! I immediately agreed: “Oh, sure, yeah, let’s swap.” I grabbed my glass of juice, ready to stand up. Suddenly, a heavy weight landed on my shoulder, pinning me down. I froze, slowly turning my head to look at the pale, long-fingered hand resting on my shoulder. Then I looked at Chloe. Oh boy, the look in her eyes was even worse now! But Liam remained completely unfazed. He lifted his heavy eyelids, shot Chloe a cold look, and said flatly: “She’s sitting here. Find somewhere else.” Cold sweat instantly broke out on my back. My first instinct was to shove Liam’s hand off me. But then I realized that if we started physically struggling, it would look even more suspicious. I decided to just play the polite bystander and let out an awkward laugh to defuse the tension: “It’s fine, I’ll swap with you. I don’t really want to sit against the wall anyway.” Liam turned his head and raised an eyebrow at me. “In high school, didn’t you always say your favorite spot was right against the wall?” The fake smile on my face instantly shattered. I had no idea what kind of game he was playing. The room went dead quiet again. Completely ignored and humiliated by him, Chloe’s eyes turned red. She choked out: “Liam, do you really have to embarrass me in front of all these people?” The air pressure around Liam dropped to freezing. He said in a low, dangerous voice: “You brought the embarrassment on yourself. She was sitting here perfectly fine. Why should she move for you?” Unable to take the humiliation, Chloe slammed her glass down on the table, turned around, and ran out of the room. But Liam didn’t move an inch. Finally, the class president sighed, stood up, and chased after her. The crowd’s gaze shifted from Liam directly onto me. I felt like I was sitting on a bed of nails. Dear God. I have literally nothing to do with this! 2 After Chloe left, Liam started drinking. Hard. To anyone watching, it looked exactly like a couple having a nasty fight. I didn’t dare speak to him, terrified of causing an even bigger misunderstanding. I just shrank back into my corner, clutching my orange juice like a lifeline. Silently counting how many glasses he was throwing back. In our three years of high school, Liam and I rarely ever sat this close to each other. He had taken off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up, revealing the lean, defined muscles of his forearms. I fought with everything I had to keep my eyes off him. But the faint, intoxicating scent of rosewater radiating from him kept drifting to my nose. It had been almost a year since I last saw him. His features had sharpened, losing the soft edges of a high school boy. He existed in that perfect space between a boy and a man, looking even more breathtaking than before. I couldn’t help it. I sneaked a tiny, quick glance at him—and crashed straight into his gaze. I immediately snapped my eyes away and violently started eating my salad. After a few seconds of silence, I heard him let out a soft, low chuckle. “Hiding again.” My heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. Thankfully, some of the guys started talking to him, breaking the suffocating tension. I absentmindedly poked at the greens in my bowl. I was starting to regret coming to see him. I knew he didn’t belong to me, yet I couldn’t stop myself from secretly pining for him, over and over again. Just as my thoughts were spiraling, a massive chicken drumstick suddenly appeared in my bowl. I looked at Liam in absolute shock. He didn’t even look at me. He just said coolly: “I used the serving chopsticks. They’re clean.” I took a deep breath, forced myself to stay calm, and managed a stiff, “Thank you.” But inside, I was screaming— Is this about the chopsticks?! Since when are we close enough to serve each other food?! Luckily, no one knew about my secret crush on him, so everyone just assumed I was awkwardly caught in the crossfire. Even Jenna texted me: [Looks like our favorite ship has officially sunk. Sarah, I feel so bad for you, but I can’t save you. Just eat your food and stay quiet.] I replied with a single smiley face emoji. Expressing my absolute speechlessness. Liam seemed determined to drink himself into a coma tonight. He barely spoke another word, and his eyes didn’t drift my way again. Everyone read the room. Seeing that the night had run its course, they all started making excuses to leave. I wanted to leave too. But Liam was leaning lazily back in his chair, his eyes closed, his incredibly long legs stretched out, completely blocking my only exit. I called his name softly. “Liam? Could you move a little?” No response. I tugged lightly on the edge of his shirt. “Liam?” Still nothing. Looks like he was genuinely blackout drunk. I signaled Jenna for help. “Jenna, wait for me, let’s leave together.” But just as she started walking toward me, Liam’s eyes snapped open, and he shot her a freezing, lethal glare. Jenna froze in her tracks, laughing awkwardly: “Uh, Sarah, why don’t you do the honors and get him home?” I didn’t even get a chance to object. Liam let out a low “Mm,” turned to look at me, and said with perfect, slurred politeness: “Sorry to trouble you, Class Rep.” Me: “…No trouble at all.” 3 I booked a room at the nearest hotel and asked him if he could still walk. He gripped the edge of the table to stand up, but immediately stumbled. I frantically reached out and caught him. The sudden, close physical contact sent my heart into overdrive. I wanted to let go, but I was terrified he would crack his head open on the floor. “How about I ask a waiter to help you to the hotel?” Liam instantly stood up straight, his brows furrowing deeply. “No. I don’t like other people touching me.” He grabbed his jacket off the chair and looked back at me. “Let’s go. Didn’t you say you were walking me back?” With that, he started walking toward the door on his own. I stared at his back, completely bewildered. Is he actually drunk or not? I sighed heavily and jogged after him. “Liam, wait a second, let me call an Uber.” “Is it far?” “Not really, but—” “Then let’s walk. I’m dizzy. I don’t want to sit in a car.” I looked at his pale face and tightly knit brows. He definitely didn’t look well. Maybe getting some fresh air would help clear his head. For the entire walk, I quietly trailed behind him. The only sound was my Google Maps navigation telling us which traffic light to turn at. Suddenly, Liam stopped dead in his tracks. I wasn’t paying attention and almost slammed right into his back. Thank god for my quick reflexes; the tip of my nose barely brushed against his wool coat. “What’s wrong? Are you going to throw up? Should I run into a pharmacy and get you some hangover meds?” Whenever my dad drank too much, my mom always made him an herbal hangover drink, and it always settled his stomach. There happened to be a 24-hour pharmacy right across the street. I pointed at it. “You stay right here. Don’t wander off, I’ll be right back—” Liam suddenly grabbed my wrist, yanked me backward, and pulled me solidly into his arms. My entire body froze. I forgot how to breathe. The hug I had only ever dared to imagine in my wildest dreams was actually happening. But I was completely sober. And I knew this was wrong. I tried to push him away, but he only held me tighter. If anyone from school saw us like this, I would never be able to explain it! My voice was trembling when I called his name. “Liam—” He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his voice incredibly hoarse and low: “Please don’t go, okay?” “I didn’t do anything to make you mad. Stop hiding from me.” 4 Liam was definitely blackout drunk. He was mistaking me for Chloe, and spouting a bunch of easily misunderstood nonsense. I didn’t want to get into a wrestling match with him in the middle of the street. So, I had to treat him like a toddler. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m taking you to bed. Be good, let go of me first, okay?” He let out an obedient “Mm,” released the hug, and immediately grabbed my hand instead. And then he looked at me with those huge, wet, puppy-dog eyes. Thank god my psychological fortitude was strong and my moral compass was high. For the next two blocks, my palms were sweating from how tightly he was gripping my hand. I stepped on his shadow, muttering under my breath: “If you’re this clingy, why the hell were you fighting with her in the first place? You brought this on yourself!” When we finally made it to the hotel room and the door clicked shut behind us, his legs gave out completely. He dragged me down onto the bed with him. His hot breath fanned against my ear, the intoxicating scent of alcohol and rosewater completely overwhelming my senses. All I had to do was turn my head an inch, and my lips would touch his. Who could possibly resist this kind of temptation?! Me, that’s who! Even though I really wanted to. I couldn’t. He was just drunk, not dead. Taking advantage of him while he was blackout drunk was highly immoral. I violently suppressed the massive wave of dirty thoughts in my brain and shoved him off me. Liam lay flat on his back. The alcohol was probably making him thirsty, because he restlessly shifted and ran his tongue over his dry lips. Dear God. If I looked at him for one more second, I was going to get a nosebleed. I frantically unscrewed a bottle of water and brought it to his lips. He swallowed instinctively, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The pale skin of his neck was flushed red from the alcohol, the color spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. …This was getting out of hand. Truly. I squeezed my eyes shut, and my hand jerked. The cool water spilled past his lips, soaking a dark patch into the hotel sheets. I mentally slapped myself in the face. I muttered a curse at myself. “You absolute animal!” I kept my eyes locked on the ceiling. I aggressively yanked the duvet over him, tucking him in like a burrito, and finally managed to calm down. Staring at Liam’s sleeping face, his brows still furrowed in discomfort, I gave myself a mental thumbs-up. Great job, Sarah. You didn’t sexually assault him while he was vulnerable. This was the boy I had loved for three years. He belonged in my dreams. He shouldn’t actually be a part of my real life. The doorbell rang. The hangover medicine I ordered had arrived. I placed the meds, a box of tissues, and a fresh bottle of water on the nightstand. I gave him a little wave and whispered my goodbyes. “Goodbye, Liam! Don’t drink this much ever again. Boys need to be careful when they’re out alone at night.” 5 It was incredibly late by the time I got home, but I wasn’t tired at all. Jenna was still awake, eager to gossip. [Sarah, did you hear? The class president said when he finally caught up to Chloe, she was crying so hard it was pathetic.] [She said she had a little argument with Liam, and it made him furious.] That made sense to me. For three years of high school, they were practically joined at the hip. Their families were both incredibly wealthy and well-connected, so even the teachers turned a blind eye to them. Thinking about that mistaken hug tonight… I felt even more ashamed. My crush was something I couldn’t control, but the only thing I could control was my own actions. I wouldn’t cause trouble for him. And I wouldn’t humiliate myself. I scrolled through my phone, feeling completely miserable, until I finally tossed it aside and forced myself to sleep. Early the next morning, my doorbell rang. At this hour, my parents had already left for work. Logically, no one should be visiting. But the doorbell kept ringing persistently, like whoever it was had an emergency. I threw on my fluffy robe and went to open the door. When I saw the person standing outside, my jaw dropped. “Liam?! What are you doing here? The hotel room I booked for you doesn’t check out until 2 PM!” “That’s not important.” I was completely baffled. I couldn’t think of a single reason why he would be at my front door. He took a step closer and said in a low voice: “I came to pay you back for the hotel room.” I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, you could have just Venmo’d me! You didn’t have to come all the way here—” “But you never gave me your number.” “…I’ll give it to you right now!” After we exchanged contacts, he didn’t immediately send the money. Instead, he stood in the doorway, rubbing his arms, his voice sounding incredibly pathetic. “Class Rep, I’m so cold. Aren’t you going to invite me inside?” I snapped out of my daze and realized he wasn’t wearing the heavy wool coat from last night. He was only wearing a thin black hoodie and jeans. He looked amazing, but he was definitely freezing. I looked down at myself. I was wearing a massive, fluffy, bear-eared pajama onesie. Warm, yes. But incredibly childish! I couldn’t bear to watch him freeze, so I stepped aside to let him in. “Come on in and sit down.” The second the door closed, I instantly regretted it. A boy and a girl, alone in a house. He was completely sober, and I was completely sober. He was a living, breathing human standing in my living room, and he was staring right at me. I didn’t know what to do with my hands or feet. I ran around like a headless chicken, turning up the thermostat, pulling out chips, sunflower seeds, and a bowl of fresh cherries. “Have a snack first, I’ll go grab you a glass of milk.” He suddenly grabbed my hand. “Stop running around. I’m not hungry.” His freezing fingertips sent a shiver through me. He immediately let go. “Just sit with me for a minute.” I sat down rigidly, my hands placed perfectly on my knees like an obedient school child. It was way too quiet. I was starting to panic. After a long pause, Liam broke the silence. “Why did you leave me there last night?” “…I didn’t leave you! You were blackout drunk. I took you to the hotel, made sure you were asleep, and then went home.” Liam’s clear, dark eyes stared directly into mine. “I was drunk. But I faked passing out.” He drank at least six or seven bottles of beer last night. He was drunk as a skunk, and he even thought I was Chloe! And now he was sitting in my living room trying to claim he faked it?! I reasonably deduced he was just trying to save face. I gave a dry laugh, offering him an out. “Oh, totally, totally! I could tell you handle your liquor really well! You weren’t messy at all!” Liam stared at me, looking deeply frustrated, like he was looking at an absolute idiot. “If I didn’t pretend to pass out, with how terrified you are of me, when would you have ever dared to come near me?” “I was literally lying there totally helpless last night. You could have done whatever you wanted to me.” “And what did you do? You tucked me in and ran away.” I froze completely. Wait, did he figure something out?! I thought I hid my crush perfectly! Liam stood up, taking a step toward me, and slowly opened his arms. “You absolute coward. Can I get a hug?” “I’m dying of a broken heart over here.” 6 Liam reached out and pulled me into a gentle hug. My nose was filled with the faint, elegant scent of roses. It was so intoxicating I felt myself melting into it. The living room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I couldn’t tell if the deafening, hammering heartbeat I was hearing was his, or mine. Was he actually sober right now? If he was, why was he hugging me? I absolutely refused to be his temporary rebound after a bad breakup. And I refused to take advantage of him while he was heartbroken and vulnerable. I forced my rational brain to reboot and pushed him away. “Liam, you have a girlfriend. You cannot hug me.” “I only took you to the hotel last night because we’re classmates. Please do not misunderstand.” Liam’s entire body stiffened. He looked at me in total, absolute shock. “Since when do I have a girlfriend?” I was just as confused as he was. “You and Chloe! Weren’t you guys dating all through high school?” Liam let out a breath of pure exasperation, almost laughing. “Are you kidding me? For three years of high school, the only things I cared about were studying and playing basketball. Where the hell did you get the idea that I was dating her?” “But that’s what everyone always said—” “Sarah. You believe them over me?” Hearing him say my actual name sent a jolt of panic through my chest. I avoided his intense, burning gaze and mumbled: “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you. It’s just that everyone said it, and you never bothered to deny it…” “I made it perfectly clear to her a long time ago. I don’t like her. The only connection we have is that our parents are friends and we live in the same neighborhood.” “Whatever she does has absolutely nothing to do with me.” “But you, on the other hand. You absolute idiot. I’ve been in love with you for three years, and you didn’t notice a single thing?!” I couldn’t believe my ears. I never thought I would hear a confession from him. Suddenly, a flood of memories hit me. Every time I had casually glanced over my shoulder in class, I had always locked eyes with Liam. But I always thought it was just a coincidence. I never dared to imagine it meant anything more. It wasn’t until Liam gently brushed his fingers against my hand that I realized I was trembling so hard I was vibrating. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” “I… I need to think about it.” The fact that he was confessing to me felt entirely surreal. I needed to calm down, re-evaluate every interaction we had ever had, and then give him an answer. Hearing that, Liam let out a soft, relieved laugh. “Okay. There’s no rush. I’ll get going then.” “So soon?” Crap. Said that out loud. I looked up, and sure enough, Liam was fighting back a massive, triumphant grin. I wanted to crawl under the sofa cushions and die. Liam reached out and affectionately ruffled my hair. “Once you finally give me a title, I’ll never leave your house.” “It’s my birthday next week. Can you come to my party?” “Yes, I’ll definitely be there.” After Liam left, I got a Venmo notification from him. The amount was astronomically higher than the cost of the hotel room. I sent him a question mark. [You sent way too much.] He replied: [Thanks for taking care of me last night.] [Can you use the extra to buy me a present?] Even if he hadn’t asked, I was going to buy him one anyway. I knew exactly when his birthday was. For the past three years, the birthday gifts I had bought for him were all locked in the bottom drawer of my desk. I just never had the courage to give them to him. He said he never dated Chloe. And he said he liked me. Compared to my terrified, hiding-in-the-shadows approach, his absolute, unapologetic honesty gave me a surge of courage. I decided that on his birthday, I was going to officially confess my feelings. 7 On the day of Liam’s birthday, he was waiting outside my apartment building bright and early. He was even holding a bouquet of flowers. But he never told me he was coming to pick me up! Seeing him step out of his car and walk toward me, I quickly jogged over, a huge smile breaking across my face. “What are you doing here?” “It’s a long drive. I wanted to pick you up.” He glanced down at my dress, and his brows immediately furrowed. “It’s too cold. Get in the car.” The joy I had just felt instantly dissolved into panic. Usually, I dressed like a complete tomboy. Today, I specifically bought a brand new outfit and even put on a little makeup. The skirt ended right above my knees, and even with fleece-lined tights, the winter wind was cutting straight to my bones. Liam always looked so effortlessly cool and athletic. I just didn’t want to look like a complete slob standing next to him. “Do you not like it?” “What are you talking about?” “The dress looks amazing on you. But I don’t want you to freeze to death. Get in.” A warm, fluttery feeling bloomed in my chest. I whispered, “I’m not cold.” Liam leaned over the center console and gently buckled my seatbelt for me. Then he placed the bouquet of flowers onto my lap. I looked at him in total confusion. “Today is your birthday, why are you giving me flowers?” “I was worried you forgot to buy me a present, so I brought these. When we get to the party, just tell everyone you bought them for me.” I immediately felt embarrassed. “I can’t do that! Besides, I did buy you a present!” I pulled a small velvet box out of my purse and handed it to him. Liam opened it right then and there. His eyes lit up. “A bracelet? It’s beautiful. I love it.” He immediately slipped it onto his wrist. He turned to me, shook his wrist to show it off, a brilliant, genuine smile spreading across his face. “Thank you. Getting two presents today makes me really happy.” “You’re welcome. As long as you like it.” Seeing you happy makes me happy.

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In my third year as Isabelle’s paid companion, her family decided it was time for her to win over the man she was arranged to marry. Isabelle, bored and annoyed, just tossed me her phone with a burner account logged in. “You chat with him,” she’d ordered, a sharp warning in her voice. “If you mess this up, you’re done.” So, I gritted my teeth and dove in. Every day, I wracked my brain for sweet nothings and clever compliments. I spent three months weaving a web of digital romance with Nathaniel Northwood, the heir to the Northwood fortune. And it worked. He became more and more attentive, more engaged. Until one day, he messaged my personal number. He’d gotten it from Isabelle to coordinate something. He asked me to grab a gift he’d left and bring it up to her. Without thinking, I typed back: [Got it, thanks babe!] The other end went silent. 1 I sent the message and immediately got out of bed to wash up. It wasn’t until the cold water shocked my senses that I remembered Nathaniel’s text. I grabbed my phone, intending to double-check where he’d left the gift. But when the screen lit up, my blood ran cold. There, in our chat history, was my reply. After it, Nathaniel hadn’t responded with his usual warm patience. Just a single, cold question mark: [?] His original message read: [I left a gift for Isabelle at the front desk of her dorm. Make sure she gets it.] A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I backed out of the chat, my thumb trembling, and clicked back in. I did this several times, praying the screen would change. Finally, I had to accept the horrifying truth. I was logged into my own account. Not the burner Isabelle had given me. And my “thanks babe” was well past the time limit for unsending a message. My mind raced, scrambling for a way to fix this. I sifted through a dozen bad excuses until I landed on the most plausible one: [So sorry, wrong person. That was meant for a friend.] [I’ll get the gift to Isabelle right away.] I sent it and waited, my heart hammering against my ribs. After a few agonizing moments, he replied. He didn’t press the issue, thank God. His response was clipped and detached. [Right. Thanks.] I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Then, I switched over to the burner account Isabelle had given me. A new message from Nathaniel popped up instantly, his tone a world away from the coldness he’d just shown me: [Babe, I’m coming home.] [When I get back, let’s talk about our engagement, okay?] The breath I’d just released hitched in my throat. 2 I started working for Isabelle my freshman year of college. I needed the money for my grandmother’s medical bills, and she needed someone to manage her life. I became her shadow. Then, three months ago, her family’s company hit a wall. A cash flow crisis. Suddenly, the engagement to Nathaniel Northwood, the heir to a massive fortune, went from a vague future plan to an urgent necessity. Isabelle had to charm him, and fast. The problem was, Nathaniel was still overseas. Their only connection was through their phones. She tried for three days, sending polite, lukewarm messages. He remained distant, almost indifferent. Isabelle had never been ignored in her life. It drove her crazy. Luckily, the account she was using wasn’t her main one. In a fit of pique, she shoved the phone at me. “You do it,” she’d said. “If you blow it, you’re fired.” So, with my job on the line, I took over. My world began to revolve around him. I’d wake up and immediately start composing romantic messages. I scoured his social media, learning his passions, his pet peeves, his favorite bands, anything to find common ground. Slowly, it started to work. His replies grew longer. He started initiating conversations. He became warmer, more personal. Three months flew by like that. And now, he was coming home to discuss their wedding. I knew my mission was finally coming to an end. 3 I immediately started compiling a document. A complete dossier on Nathaniel Northwood. Every preference I’d learned, every inside joke we’d shared over the last three months, every little detail—it all went in. Then I went downstairs, picked up the gift he’d left, and headed to Isabelle’s lavish off-campus apartment. When I walked in, she was lounging on a velvet sofa, surrounded by a mountain of shopping bags and gift boxes. I handed her the package and explained what it was. Isabelle tore it open. Inside was a small, exquisitely crafted plush bunny. A limited edition. She examined it for a moment, her nose wrinkled in distaste. “That’s it? A stupid stuffed animal?” I kept my eyes lowered. “I think… I mentioned once that I thought rabbits were cute. He must have remembered.” Isabelle rolled her eyes and tossed the bunny at me. “Whatever. You can have it.” Her voice sharpened. “Next time, make sure you mention how much I love diamonds and designer bags. Got it?” My fingers tightened around the rejected gift. “Yes,” I said quietly. I had to remind her. “He said he’s coming back. You two will be meeting in person soon.” I tried to hand the reins back. “Maybe… you should take over the texting from now on.” But Isabelle just shook her head, waving her own phone at me. The screen was a dizzying list of chats. “Look at this. I’ve got my hands full with all these guys. You just keep handling Nathaniel.” I fell silent, then nodded again, defeated. I sent her the file I’d prepared. “Here are his likes and dislikes. You should probably read this before you meet him.” “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she said, already bored. “Stop nagging.” I said no more. A few days later, Nathaniel was back. Isabelle dressed to the nines for his welcome-home party, and I trailed behind her, carrying her purse. As we reached the door to the private room, her phone buzzed. It was one of her other admirers. She waved me forward. “You go in first. I need to take this.” I nodded and pushed the heavy door open. Before my eyes could even adjust to the dim light, the purse was lifted from my hand. A second later, a pair of strong, long-fingered hands laced through mine. A warm, woody scent enveloped me. A voice, lazy and laced with a smile, washed over me. “Look at you, being so good today. You even brought the bag I sent you.” It was the same voice I’d imagined a thousand times through a speaker, now real and resonating right beside my ear. My face flushed with heat as I looked up. At that exact moment, Nathaniel’s eyes focused on my face. He froze. His hand dropped mine as if it were on fire. He muttered a quiet curse under his breath. “Sorry,” he said, his voice flat. “Wrong person.” 4 Just then, Isabelle breezed in from her call. “What are you two doing just standing here?” Nathaniel’s composure snapped back into place instantly. He smoothly took Isabelle’s hand, his smile returning. “Waiting for you.” The awkward moment was forgotten, or at least ignored. Isabelle was a natural, mingling and laughing with everyone in the room within minutes. I found a quiet corner seat next to her and tried to make myself invisible, which suited me just fine. After a while, Isabelle peeled a shrimp, a playful look on her face, and held it up to Nathaniel’s lips. The room fell silent for a beat. Isabelle looked around, confused. My heart leaped into my throat. She hadn’t read my notes. I knew she hadn’t. Nathaniel was allergic to shellfish. I’d even bolded and highlighted it in the document. His brow furrowed slightly as he looked down at the shrimp she offered. Disaster was seconds away. I leaned in and whispered urgently, “He’s allergic to seafood.” Isabelle’s recovery was seamless. She popped the shrimp into her own mouth, winked playfully at Nathaniel, and said, “I know you can’t have any, silly. I just wanted to let you smell it.” A low chuckle escaped Nathaniel’s lips. The crisis was averted. I finally breathed again. After dinner, the party shifted to a game of Truth or Dare. Midway through, Isabelle announced she needed to touch up her makeup and asked Nathaniel to pass her purse. My own bag was sitting right next to hers. As he reached for it, he accidentally knocked mine over. Its contents spilled across the floor. And there, under the warm lights of the restaurant, lay the limited-edition plush bunny. Panic seized me. I dropped to my knees, desperate to snatch it up before anyone noticed. But it was too late. Nathaniel’s voice, cool and laced with something I couldn’t decipher, cut through the air. “That bunny. Why do you have it?” 5 A thousand excuses flashed through my mind. I was holding it for Isabelle. I happened to have the exact same one. But every lie sounded flimsy and pathetic. The truth was, I loved rabbits. When Isabelle had tossed the toy at me with such disdain, I’d held onto it, eventually tucking it away safely in the deepest pocket of my bag. I’d been in such a rush today, I’d forgotten it was even there. My brain went blank. Before I could stammer out a single word, Isabelle, panicked and cornered, pointed a finger at me. “Zoe!” she cried, her voice ringing with false accusation. “How could you steal from me?” Tears welled in her eyes, perfectly timed. “I’ve been so good to you! You knew how much I loved that gift, why would you take it?” Every eye in the room swiveled to me. Whispers erupted like wildfire. “Isn’t that her little assistant? So ungrateful.” “Wow, she’s got some nerve. Stealing a gift from Nathan to his girlfriend.” “Who knows what else she’s stolen? Better check my wallet.” I opened my mouth to deny it, to tell them the truth. But Isabelle leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “You say one word and you’re finished.” She sweetened the deal. “Play along, and I’ll give you five thousand dollars after this.” The words died on my tongue. Five thousand dollars. That was months of my grandmother’s medication. Her surgery was just around the corner, and I couldn’t afford to lose this job. Not now. My nails dug into my palms. Under the weight of a dozen judgmental stares, I heard my own voice, raw and shaky. “…I’m sorry. I stole it.” 6 Isabelle wiped a tear from her eye, playing the part of the magnanimous victim. “It’s okay. As long as you learn from your mistakes.” She turned to Nathaniel, forcing a smile and tugging on his sleeve. “Come on, don’t be angry. Zoe didn’t mean it. Her family… they have it really tough.” Nathaniel said nothing, but I could feel his gaze on me, sharp and full of contempt. The whispers in the room shifted. “Isabelle is too nice. I wouldn’t forgive that.” “Whatever, it’s Nathan’s welcome home party. Let’s not ruin the mood.” Isabelle offered the room a sweet, innocent smile. Five minutes later, the game of Truth or Dare resumed. And of course, my luck held. The next dare landed on me. The one holding the power, the “king,” was Nathaniel. He had been silent until now, but as he looked at me, a slow, cruel smile spread across his lips. “A dare, huh?” he said, his voice dangerously smooth. “Okay… Feed a piece of food to a guy of your choice.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air before adding the final twist. “Without using your hands.” The room went dead quiet. The malice was so thick you could cut it with a knife. It was a direct, personal attack, and everyone knew it. But no one dared to challenge him. I stood there, frozen in humiliation. I didn’t know anyone here well enough to ask them to participate in my punishment. Finally, one of Isabelle’s hangers-on, a guy named Rick, stood up. A leering, predatory grin spread across his face. “Hey. I’ll do it with you.” His eyes crawled over me like snakes, slick and unsettling. I swallowed down a wave of nausea, determined to just get it over with. Rick produced a long, thin biscuit stick, gesturing for me to bite down on one end. Then, his greasy face began to move closer, and closer. My hands, hanging limp at my sides, started to tremble. I couldn’t do it. I was about to shove him away, consequences be damned. “Okay, that’s enough,” Isabelle finally called out, her voice feigning boredom. “It doesn’t have to be that literal.” Nathaniel raised an eyebrow but nodded, ending the spectacle. The game continued as if nothing had happened. After the party, I drove Isabelle home in silence. When we arrived, she tapped on her phone, and a notification for a five-thousand-dollar transfer popped up on my screen. She got out of the car and walked into her mansion without a backward glance. As if that sum meant nothing to her at all. I clutched my phone, a small, hopeful thought flickering in the darkness. Tomorrow, I can buy some good ribs. I can make Grandma a nice meal. As I was thinking this, a notification appeared on the burner phone. It was from Nathaniel. The same Nathaniel who had just watched me be humiliated. Now, clueless, he was back in character. [Babe, I took care of it for you. Don’t be sad anymore, okay?] [That bunny got dirty. I’ll get you a new one.] 7 The next day, I was back at my part-time job at a local bakery. Grandma’s surgery was still tens of thousands of dollars away. The money from Isabelle wasn’t nearly enough. I was on my lunch break when the bell over the door chimed. It was Rick, the guy from the party. He picked out a few pastries and brought them to the counter. I boxed them up. “That’ll be twenty-seven dollars.” He took the box, but instead of letting go, his fingers slid over mine, his touch lingering and unwelcome. “A pretty face like yours shouldn’t be working in a place like this. Why don’t you just come with me?” My stomach lurched. “There are cameras in here,” I said, my voice ice. “Let go, or I’m calling the police.” His grip only tightened. He leaned in, unafraid. “Don’t be like that. I just want to be friends.” He lowered his voice. “Whatever Isabelle’s paying you, I’ll double it. How about it?” I looked up at him and forced a smile. In the split second he was distracted, I snatched a pen from the counter and jabbed it hard into the back of his hand. He yelped in pain, his hand flying back. I used the opening to bolt for the back room. He recovered quickly, shouting curses as he chased after me. He was just about to grab the collar of my shirt when a loud, pained cry echoed through the shop. I spun around, startled. Rick was sprawled on the floor. Standing over him, looking down with an air of cold authority, was Nathaniel. After he’d sent Rick scrambling out the door, a heavy silence fell between us. Nathaniel didn’t look at me. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said, his tone casual. “Isabelle happens to like you as her little assistant.” He finally glanced over. “If you ran off with Rick, she’d be upset.” I took a step back, putting distance between us. “I understand,” I said, my voice formal. “Thank you for your help.” Just then, my coworker arrived for her shift. I gathered my things, desperate to escape. But Nathaniel followed me out the door. He checked his watch. “I was just on my way to see Isabelle anyway. I can give you a ride.” 8 The truth is, this wasn’t the first time I’d met Nathaniel. Years ago, back in high school, my parents got divorced. Neither of them wanted me. They just… left me. On the street. I was alone, with no money, huddled on a curb. I wasn’t sad, not really. I was just trying to figure out how I was going to get the ten dollars I needed for school books the next day. I walked down the main street, going from restaurant to restaurant, asking if they needed any help. They all took one look at how young I was and shook their heads, saying they didn’t hire kids. The last shop owner was impatient. “I told you, no kids! Go on, get out of here. You’re bad for business.” I stood there, lost, when a voice came from behind me. “How much do you need?” He couldn’t have been much older than me, but he carried himself with an air of wealth and confidence. I sniffled. “Ten dollars.” He seemed to be in a hurry. He pulled out his wallet and handed me a twenty. “Wait here,” I said quickly. I ran into the convenience store next door and got change, then ran back to give him the other ten. He took it without a word, ready to leave. It was clear he was just doing a random act of charity. In a moment of panic, I grabbed his sleeve. “What’s your name? I’ll pay you back.” He paused, then finally spoke two words. “Nathaniel Northwood.” I didn’t know how to spell it, didn’t know who he was. But I never forgot the name. I tucked it away, a secret treasure in the back of my mind. Then, three months ago, Isabelle sent me his picture. I stared at it for a long, long time. After all these years, I finally knew who he was. And now, here we were, standing outside the bakery in an awkward silence. He clearly had no memory of me. While we waited for his driver, he pulled out his phone and started texting. A moment later, my pocket buzzed. It was the burner phone. A message from him. [What are you doing, babe? Why aren’t you answering me?] My hands fumbled as I quickly silenced the notification. Nathaniel, completely oblivious, didn’t look up. He waited another moment, and when he still got no reply, he pursed his lips and just decided to call. In the next second, my purse started to ring.

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Whenever I asked Mark to go downstairs, I’d add as an afterthought, “Don’t forget to take the trash out.” He always nodded. And he always forgot. Then I noticed something. Whenever he went downstairs, the trash bag outside our neighbor Daisy’s door would be gone the next morning. One time, I didn’t remind him at all. Sure enough, our trash bag was still sitting by our door, while the space in front of her apartment was spotless. I stood there for a few seconds, the faint, sour smell of last night’s garbage hanging in the air. Without a word, I picked up our trash and took it down myself. From that day on, I stopped reminding him of anything. I no longer asked what time he’d be home. I no longer entrusted him with any “while you’re at it” tasks. Until one night, he suddenly asked me, “Have you been a little cold to me lately?” I glanced at the empty trash bin by the door, thought for a moment, and shook my head. “Not at all.” It was only later that I realized some people don’t forget what they’re supposed to do. They’ve already chosen who is worth remembering. And it was time I learned to remove him from my list of necessities. … It was 2 a.m. when Mark came home. I was still awake, sitting on the living room floor, sorting through years of household receipts. I didn’t look up when the door opened. A faint scent of perfume, mingled with smoke and alcohol, drifted in. “Hey, Ellie. Still up?” Mark’s voice was laced with a guilty, eager-to-please tone. He was holding an elegant insulated container, and he crouched down in front of me. “I passed by Ocean’s Crest on the way home and stood in line to get you their seafood chowder. It’s still hot.” He kicked off his shoes, his expression expectant, as if waiting for praise. I was sitting on the sofa, reading a book. I glanced up, my eyes landing on the container. The seafood chowder from Ocean’s Crest was famous for being packed with fresh ingredients—rich, succulent pieces of lobster and crab. But because it was so rich, the potent, sweet-and-briny smell seeped out even through the sealed lid. My stomach churned. I felt my brow furrow almost imperceptibly. “Thanks. Just leave it there,” I said flatly. My indifference seemed to annoy him. He placed the chowder on the coffee table and reached out to put a hand on my shoulder, but I leaned forward, pretending to turn a page, and his hand met empty air. It hovered there for an awkward moment before he retracted it, clearing his throat and starting to unbutton his shirt. “Oh, by the way, I need this shirt for a meeting tomorrow. It’s a bit wrinkled. Can you iron it for me? Remember to hand-wash it first. The fabric is delicate, it can’t go in the machine.” His tone was so matter-of-fact, as if I were his highly paid housekeeper. I glanced at the shirt. It was a gift from me for our wedding anniversary—a custom-tailored Italian silk blend. It was, indeed, delicate. In the past, I had always hand-washed each of his fine shirts in cold water, using a steamer to gently smooth out every crease, terrified of scorching a single thread. I looked at him and found the situation almost funny. “Mark,” I said, gesturing to the chowder. “Did you forget I’m severely allergic to shellfish?” He froze, his hands stilled on his tie. A look of shock flashed across his face, quickly followed by embarrassment and guilt. “Oh. Right… are you? I thought you used to like fish…” “That was freshwater fish,” I said, putting down the receipts. “The last time I accidentally ate shellfish, I was in the emergency room for two days. You were the one who filled out the hospital admission forms.” That was only last year. At the time, he’d been playing on his phone, complaining about how hard the hospital chairs were and how careless I’d been to get sick and make him take time off work to be there. It was clear now just how little he’d been paying attention. Mark’s face flushed red, his eyes darting away. “Well… I must have gotten it mixed up. I was just trying to do something nice for you, get you something nourishing. My mistake. I’ll get you something else next time.” He reached for the chowder, but I was already on my feet. I picked up the expensive container, walked it to the kitchen, and dropped the entire thing, box and all, directly into the trash can. It landed with a dull thud. Mark’s expression soured instantly. “Eleanor, what the hell? That was a hundred-dollar chowder! I haven’t eaten either!” “I don’t keep allergens in my house. It’s bad luck.” I turned on the faucet and began washing my hands, my voice as calm as if I were commenting on the weather. He was speechless. He took a deep breath, visibly trying to control his anger. He pointed a finger at the shirt. “Fine. The chowder was my fault. But at least get my shirt ready. I’m starving. I’m going to make some noodles.” He turned and strode into the kitchen, expertly opening cabinets to find a package of ramen. I dried my hands, picked up the silk shirt, and walked into the laundry room. Instead of filling a basin with cool water, I opened the washing machine, balled up the shirt, and tossed it inside. I poured in regular detergent, selected the “Heavy Duty” cycle, and pressed start. As the drum began to roar and tumble, I knew that delicate, expensive shirt was ruined. Mark came out with his bowl of noodles just in time to hear the spin cycle kick in. He paused, then rushed into the laundry room. His eyes practically bulged out of his head when he saw the machine churning at high speed. “Eleanor! Are you insane? That’s a three-hundred-dollar shirt! I told you it had to be hand-washed!” He fumbled with the buttons, stopping the cycle. He pulled out the shirt—now a wrinkled, misshapen rag—and his face twisted in a pained grimace. I leaned against the doorframe, watching his tantrum with a profound sense of calm. “I used to hand-wash it because I loved you, because I thought you were worth the effort.” I met his furious gaze, a wry smile touching my lips. “Now? The machine works just fine. It’s going to get wrinkled when you wear it anyway. Why waste the time?” Mark stared at me in disbelief, as if he were seeing me for the first time. “You were never like this. Eleanor, what is wrong with you lately? Is this all because I took out Daisy’s trash a few times? You’re going to act like this over that?” Oh. So he knew. He knew exactly what was bothering me, yet he chose to play dumb, to twist it around and accuse me of being hysterical. I looked at the soggy scrap of fabric in his hands and said softly, “Mark, you can always buy a new shirt. But some things, once they’re broken, can never be fixed.” After the seafood chowder incident, Mark gave me the silent treatment for two days. His social media, however, was anything but silent. He’d blocked me, but had forgotten about my alt account. Yesterday, there was a picture of him in the hallway, fixing a shoe cabinet. The caption read: A good neighbor is better than a distant relative. Always happy to help. In the corner of the photo, a pair of feet in pink bunny slippers was just visible. Daisy. I scrolled down to her feed. The same scene, but from a different angle. A shot of Mark’s back as he knelt on the floor, screwdriver in hand. There was a cute cartoon band-aid on his hand. The caption: Some hands are meant to rule the world, but he hurt his helping little ol’ me. So touched! They were practically flirting in public. I casually liked the post. Then I put my phone away and peeled the last shrimp on the table, placing it in my own bowl. Mark sat across from me, a scowl on his face. “Eleanor, when did you become so selfish? You always peel my shrimp for me.” I sipped my chamomile tea, watching him calmly without a word. He stopped, dropping a half-peeled shrimp onto his plate. “Why aren’t you saying anything? You’re not even going to peel them? You used to have a whole bowl ready for me by now.” Used to. Yes. Mark used to say he was clumsy and always pricked his fingers on the shells. He was a designer, he’d say, his hands were his most valuable asset. So every time we had shrimp, I was the one in gloves, my fingers stinging from the spicy oil, peeling each one for him. Watching him eat happily used to feel like a form of joy. Even when my fingers would later become red, swollen, and peel from the spice, he would just casually say, “You don’t have to do that next time,” and then, next time, he would wait expectantly for me to serve him again. “Mark,” I said, setting down my cup. My eyes fell on his long, elegant hands. “Your hands truly are precious.” He took it as a compliment and grunted in agreement. “Of course. These hands have to draw.” “Yes, hands for drawing,” I said with a cold smile. “But they seemed fine the other night in the hallway, when you were fixing our neighbor Daisy’s shoe cabinet. I didn’t hear you complaining about your precious hands then.” “That… Her cabinet was broken, and she’s a single woman. She couldn’t move it herself. I just happened to see her struggling. I couldn’t just walk away, could I? I just gave her a hand.” “‘A hand’? It looked like you brought your entire toolbox.” I scoffed. “Mark, you’re the man who used to wait for me to climb a ladder to change a lightbulb because you claimed you had vertigo. What happened? Did your vertigo magically disappear for the pretty neighbor? Or are your hands only precious when it comes to doing things for other people, and at home, they just wait to be served?” His face flushed a deep red. “Why do you have to be so sarcastic? What’s wrong with neighbors helping each other? Look at you now. What happened to the sweet, gentle woman I married?” “Sweet and gentle?” I put down my chopsticks and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Mark, my gentleness is for my husband, not for a pampered child. And since your hands are so skilled, don’t expect me to call a handyman anymore when something breaks. We’ll save some money. You, the helpful neighbor, can fix it yourself.” With that, I stood up and started clearing the table. Mark sat there, watching my brisk movements. It probably dawned on him for the first time that the Eleanor who used to smile and agree to everything he said was gone. Good. It’s about time we all faced reality.

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In my last life, a runaway car left me broken on the pavement. My husband, standing right beside me, didn’t call for an ambulance. Instead, he cursed me for not watching where I was going, snarling that I deserved to die. After his tirade, he turned to comfort the driver who had hit me. “Don’t be scared,” he coached her. “When the cops get here, you stick to the story that she was trying to scam you for money, that you panicked and hit the gas instead of the brake.” “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I’m here. Nothing will happen to you.” Even as I lay there, my life fading away, Vincent never once thought to call for help. As I took my final breath, he leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “I’ll remember you. After all, you’re giving me quite a gift. I’ve already got plans for that million-dollar insurance payout.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back. A few days before the crash. 1 Rick smiled, tucking the signed insurance policy into his briefcase. Just as he was about to leave, I stopped him. “Is there something else, Faye?” he asked. I looked down at myself, whole and unharmed, a wave of dark relief washing over me. “Let me see Vincent’s policy again.” In my previous life, Vincent had told me he was just helping out a friend, Rick, by buying an accident policy. I didn’t think twice and signed on the dotted line for my own. A few days after the policies went into effect, I was the victim of a brutal hit-and-run. Vincent hadn’t called for an ambulance. He had rushed to the driver’s side, comforting her. “Don’t be scared,” he’d told her. “Just insist she was trying to scam you. That you got flustered and mixed up the pedals.” It was a stranger, a passerby, who finally found me bleeding out on the asphalt and called for help. But the nightmare wasn’t over. As the ambulance sped across the Blackwater Bridge, another car, seemingly out of nowhere, slammed into its side. The impact threw the rear doors open, and I was flung from the back of the vehicle, plunging into the dark river below. My body was never recovered. “Faye, Vincent’s coverage is higher than yours, and you’re the beneficiary. Is there something you’re concerned about?” Rick’s voice pulled me back to the present. “I want to change the coverage amount,” I stated. Rick looked hesitant. Vincent quickly stepped in. “Rick didn’t bring any extra forms. If you alter these, they’ll be void.” “Yeah, Faye. Is there a problem with the amount?” Rick asked, feigning concern. Last time, I had no idea this policy was my death warrant. Since I’ve been given a second chance, I figured I might as well raise the stakes. Naturally, I’d raise Vincent’s coverage, too. Hearing me suggest a higher amount, the tension in Vincent’s shoulders visibly eased. “Well, Rick, you heard her. Do what she says.” Rick turned to me. “How much of an increase are we talking about? The higher the coverage, the higher the premium.” I casually flipped through the pages before closing the document. “What good is five million these days?” I said with a dismissive air. “If you die outright, fine. But what if you’re left half-dead? That kind of money won’t even cover the medical bills.” A slow, pleased smile spread across Vincent’s face. “Honey, what are you talking about? We’re buying this for peace of mind. Nobody actually hopes to cash in on it.” I looked at my two-faced husband. “Are you worried about the money, or are you just trying to keep Rick from getting a bigger commission?” The commission was secondary. Rick and Vincent were old friends, and Rick had just started at the insurance company. This sale was all he needed to secure his position. It was supposed to be a win-win. I just never imagined it was a conspiracy to murder me. My words seemed to stun both of them into silence. “Fine, fine,” Vincent finally said to Rick. “Listen to her. Go and draw up a new policy with a higher payout.” “Is ten million enough?” Rick asked. I nodded, then gathered both of the already-signed policies and held onto them. As soon as the premiums were paid, they would be active. Rick looked at me, a flicker of confusion in his eyes when he saw I wasn’t handing the documents back. Before he could say anything, Vincent ushered him along. “The printer is in the study. What are you waiting for?” While Rick was in the study amending the policy, I printed out two organ donor registration forms. Vincent stared at me, his face a mask of pure shock and confusion. I knew he would never sign it, but I held one out to him anyway. “Why on earth would we donate our organs?” he asked, his voice tight. “We’re already buying life insurance. What’s the big deal about donating our organs?” He hesitated, clearly trying to figure out my angle. He didn’t want to sign, but he was afraid of making me suspicious. I didn’t wait for him, signing my name with a flourish. Seeing him still wavering, I feigned anger. “If you’re not willing, then there’s no point in the insurance either. It’s a waste of money.” With that, I turned and stormed back to our bedroom. Vincent was utterly baffled. Of course, he couldn’t possibly understand my plan. I didn’t have the energy to wait for him to get into a car crash and then arrange for his ambulance to be rammed off the Blackwater Bridge. If he signed that form, all I’d have to do is make one phone call after his “accident,” and he’d get a taste of what it felt like to not even have a body to bury. But I couldn’t say any of that out loud. I’d barely stepped into the bedroom before Vincent followed me in. “Honey, let’s just forget about the organ donation, okay? We’re only buying this insurance to help Rick out.” He paused, then added, “If you really want to donate, I won’t stop you. But I’m not doing it.” He wasn’t even bothering to pretend anymore. The only thing he hadn’t said outright was that he was plotting against me. In my last life, his act was flawless. He never let the mask slip. To the outside world, he was the perfect husband, the perfect son-in-law. No one knew he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Of course I’m donating,” I said firmly. “And you’re signing, too.” “Why should I?” Vincent’s voice was loud, a clear sign of his guilt. The commotion drew Rick out of the study. “What’s going on, you two?” he asked, trying to look neutral. I answered him calmly. “We won’t be buying the insurance for now.” A flash of fury crossed Vincent’s face. “Faye, are you doing this on purpose?” “You won’t even sign an organ donor form,” I said coolly. “How do I know what you’re really up to?” Before Rick could try to mediate, I grabbed my bag, turned, and walked out of the house. … “Vince, you don’t think she knows something, do you?” “What could she know? Just get the damn policies ready. While she’s out, I’ll sign for her and pay the premium.” “Look, man, just sign the donation form. It’s not worth spooking her over something so small.” Seeing Vincent was still being stubborn, Rick tried to reason with him. “She’s the one who’s going to die anyway. It doesn’t really matter if you sign or not.” “Exactly! So why should I sign? It’s bad luck!” “Don’t let a stupid little thing like this screw up the whole plan. It’s not worth it.” After a moment of deliberation, Vincent finally picked up the pen and scrawled his name on the organ donor registration form. “Is the car ready?” “Just waiting for your payment.” Every move they made was exactly as I’d predicted. The only reason I’d fallen for it in my past life was because I trusted Vincent too much. He had played me for a fool, leaving me to die without a body or a grave. A faint smile touched my lips as I saved the evidence. I had no intention of exposing their plot. The last thing I wanted was to tip them off. In fact, after leaving the building, I deliberately took a route that avoided that all-too-familiar massage parlor. I found a quiet spot and transferred the full premium amount to the account listed on the insurance policy. Then, I discreetly went to Rick’s insurance company and had the official stamp applied to the contracts. Only after everything was in place did I slowly make my way home. When I walked in, I saw the organ donor forms and the insurance policies laid out on the table. Without a second thought, I picked up a pen and signed my name on my policy with a confident flourish. Seeing me sign, Vincent’s mood seemed to lift considerably. He said he was going to deliver the contracts to Rick and headed out. I stood by the window for a long time, but I never saw him leave. No matter how well a fox hides, its tail will eventually show. But this time, watching his deception, I felt nothing. In my last life, I was a fool. It wasn’t until the moment of impact that I realized Vincent had been cheating on me. Now, even knowing he was running off to celebrate with his lover, my heart was perfectly still. Why would I care, now that I’ve been reborn? Time flew, and soon it was the day of the crash. I had just laid down when my phone buzzed with a notification. It was the exact same message I’d received in my last life. This time, my heart was calm as I opened the photo. I waited patiently for it to load, then glanced at the image of Vincent with his arms wrapped around masseuse number 38, their bodies pressed intimately together. Last time, I had been consumed by a blind rage, throwing on clothes and rushing out to confront him. The street was dark and empty. But as I crossed, a black sedan with its headlights off came hurtling toward me. Before I could even react, the impact sent me flying dozens of feet through the air. I landed hard in the middle of the road, the car screeching to a halt just inches from crushing my skull. My legs were mangled, twisted at unnatural angles by the bumper. After the crash, Vincent emerged from the shadows. He didn’t check on me. His first move was to comfort the driver. “Wendy, are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” He glanced at my gasping form and spat, “You should have hit the gas harder.” Then back to her, all soothing concern. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here, I won’t let anything happen to you. When the cops come, just say she was trying to scam you, that you panicked and hit the gas instead of the brake.” “You haven’t been drinking, so the worst they’ll do is question you a few times.” The horror of my last moments was still vivid in my mind. This time, Vincent waited downstairs for a long time, but I didn’t move. Perhaps his patience wore out. He called me. “Faye, we were just having a few drinks, and Rick’s kid was playing with my phone. He was messing with some AI app and sent you a weird, fake picture.” I stayed silent. “You’re not mad, are you?” he pressed. “What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep. “Oh, did I wake you? I just meant that picture was a misunderstanding. Don’t worry about it.” “Oh.” “Hey, you want to come down for a bite? We’re at the diner just downstairs.” “No, I’m going back to sleep,” I said, deliberately. Vincent’s voice immediately turned urgent. “Come on, and bring me a jacket while you’re at it. It got cold all of a sudden, I’m freezing out here.”

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My son had a severe allergy to tobacco smoke. But when my wife took our six-year-old to her childhood friend’s birthday party, she let the man deliberately blow smoke in our son’s face. Panicked, our son ran downstairs, but it was too late. The allergic reaction closed his airway, and he suffocated. By the time the hospital’s call reached me and I rushed to his side, he was already fading, his face and mouth covered in a crimson rash. Even as he was dying, he gripped my hand tightly and whispered, “Daddy, don’t blame Mommy. It’s my fault. If only I wasn’t allergic.” I nearly shattered. I called my wife dozens of times, my hands shaking. When she finally answered, it was with a roar of fury. “That son of yours is just as useless as you are! Preston was just joking with him, and he threw a tantrum and ran off. Just wait until I get my hands on him!” Rage trembled through my entire body, but my voice was ice. “You don’t have to come home. There’s no home left. Let’s get a divorce.” 01 I handled my son’s final affairs alone, watching him turn to ash. I carried his urn home, my hands shaking, my heart a raw, gaping wound. Even now, I can’t believe any of this is real. For two days, I didn’t eat or drink. I tried to force myself to sleep, desperate to wake up and find it was all just a nightmare. But it was a dream I couldn’t escape. And in those two days, my son’s mother never came home. She never even called. It was time to end it. I drew up the divorce papers myself, waiting only for Serena to return. Half a day later, she finally walked in, her face a thundercloud, reeking of stale tobacco. She launched into a tirade the moment she saw me. “That son of yours is as useless as you! Preston was just messing with him, and he had to throw a fit and run home. Was he in that much of a hurry? Running off like his life depended on it!” “He even pushed Preston! Preston scraped his arm because of him.” Her words were like knives twisting in my gut. Yes, Preston suffered such a terrible scrape, while my son only lost his life. If my son is truly reborn, I pray he is never born to a woman like this again. She doesn’t deserve to be a mother. Serena plopped down on the sofa next to me, the stench of smoke clinging to her like a shroud. I immediately clutched the urn and moved away. My son had been extremely allergic to tobacco since he was a baby. To protect him, I made sure our home was a sanctuary, completely free of the scent. I myself had grown to despise it. But my action only drew Serena’s scorn. “Oh, please. Stop the act. Your son is just like you, always putting on a show. You’re the one who coddled him into having all these ridiculous problems.” “And how dare he push Preston? I’m going to teach him a lesson he won’t forget!” She started to get up, heading for our son’s room. But as she rose, I held out the divorce papers I’d prepared. “You don’t need to use your lover to lord it over my son. Just sign it. Then you and your precious Preston can run off into the sunset together.” My words ignited her fury. She snatched the papers from my hand and ripped them to shreds. “Are you insane, Wyatt? Your son misbehaved, and I’m going to discipline him! What’s wrong with that? Is this how you raise him? No wonder he dared to lay a hand on Preston!” “And don’t you dare threaten me with divorce. You’re not worthy.” She shot me a look of pure contempt. “I’m telling you, if anything happens to Preston, I will make you both pay!” Her words stole the air from my lungs. Could a mother really say something like that? A bitter, broken laugh escaped me. “Oh, if something happens to Preston, you’ll make us pay? What if something happens to our son? Have you forgotten he has a severe tobacco allergy? Do you have any idea that even a whiff of smoke makes him cough for ages, makes his skin break out in hives? Do you know why he pushed Preston away? Do you even know what our son…” The words caught in my throat, choked by a sob. But Serena’s face remained a mask of disdain. “Please. What could possibly happen to your son? That ridiculous tobacco allergy is just something you made up to drive a wedge between us.” “Do you know he actively avoids me now? And it’s all your fault!” With that, she stormed off toward our son’s room to find him. This time, I didn’t stop her. I said nothing. I just sat on the sofa, a hollow smile on my face. Our son avoided her? Did she really not know why? She was gone twenty-eight days a month. And when she did come home, she was always steeped in the smell of cigarettes. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to be close to her. But every time he did, the allergic reaction would torment him for days. Why had she never seen him have a reaction? Because when he was suffering, she was never home. She was in bed with her Preston. Soon, Serena returned, having found the room empty. She sneered at me. “Well played, Wyatt. You’ve even learned how to hide him from me now.” She threw a credit card on the table. “Here’s a hundred thousand. Give him to me, now. I have to teach him a lesson today. He needs to learn to respect Preston.” “You love money more than anything, don’t you? Isn’t that why you married me in the first place? So take the money and hand him over!” I looked at her, at the madness in her eyes, and let out another dry, humorless laugh. “You’re pathetic. Keep your money for you and Preston. It’s filthy.” With that, I clutched my son’s urn and walked out, without a moment’s hesitation. 02 My father and Serena’s father were old classmates. I met Serena at one of their gatherings and fell for her instantly. But I knew my place. I was from a working-class family, while hers was in another world entirely. I never dared to dream. Until one day, when our fathers were on a trip together, her father fell into the water. My father dove in without a second thought and saved him, but he never made it back to shore himself. Serena’s father knew of my feelings for her. Out of gratitude for my father’s sacrifice, he insisted that Serena marry me. But in Serena’s eyes, my father’s death, my love for her—it was all a conspiracy. “You two did everything you could to get tangled up with my family. It was always about the money, wasn’t it?” “Fine. I’ll give you money. I’ll even stay married to you. But I’m warning you: don’t you dare try to control me.” From the very beginning, our marriage was a sham. She was rarely home. But I refused to give up. I believed that with time, with my devotion, I could make her see my heart, change her opinion of me. The birth of our son, Noah, only strengthened my resolve. I was sure she would come around. But I was wrong. So terribly wrong. And if I hadn’t been so naive, my son would still be alive. I took Noah’s ashes back to my father’s old house. I’d chosen a burial plot and was preparing to take him there. The moment I stepped outside, Serena was there, blocking my path with several men. Her face was cold as she waved them inside to search the house. They found nothing. “What are you doing?” I demanded, my voice low and dangerous. “Where did you hide that little thief? Tell him to get his ass out here. I’m going to break his legs today!” My brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? Serena, Noah is your son too. Do you enjoy slandering him like this?” A fresh wave of anger crashed over me. I had thought, for a fleeting moment, that she’d found out about Noah and had come to say her final goodbyes. But no. She was here to falsely accuse my dead son. Suddenly, Serena lunged at me, her movements wild, and slapped me hard across the face. “You’re still defending him? Do you have any idea what he did? Yesterday, your son stole Preston’s asthma inhaler! Preston almost died! He’s in the hospital right now!” “He’s so young and already so spiteful. A little thief! I’m so embarrassed in front of Preston!” “He will pay for this today!” Her words left me reeling in disbelief. “What did you say?” I laughed, a cold, furious sound. “Serena, have you lost your mind? Did that man put some kind of spell on you?” You’ve already killed Noah. Why do you still have to slander him like this? But Serena just slapped me again, the sting of it white-hot on my cheek. “You dare say another word against Preston and see what happens!” she spat, her eyes burning with contempt. “You raised him to be like this, and you have the nerve to blame someone else?” Now I was the one slandering Preston? The rage was a fire, threatening to consume me. I wanted to kill this insane woman standing before me, but I forced myself to remain calm. Her life didn’t matter. What mattered was clearing my son’s name. I took a deep breath, my voice trembling. “Fine. You say my son stole Preston’s medicine. I have one question for you. Do you have any proof?” “You’re still trying to defend him?” she roared. “Fine! I’ll show you just how wrong you are!” She pulled out her phone and played a video. It looked like Preston’s apartment. A figure, similar in build and appearance to Noah, tiptoed into a room. After looking around, he took something from a cabinet. The video was blurry. You couldn’t make out a face, and you certainly couldn’t see what was taken. But Serena’s face was alight with triumph. “See?” she said scornfully. “That’s your son. He stole Preston’s asthma medication. Now what do you have to say?” “This happened yesterday. Your son is a thief. A spiteful little thief! I’m ashamed to have a son like him. You two are both the same, despicable and shameless…”

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