I have been secretly married to my billionaire husband for six years. He has never been willing to reveal my identity or our son’s to the public. During a kindergarten family day, he became “Daddy” in another child’s eyes. My son clutched his activity card, standing frozen. He whispered, “Mommy, why can Uncle Ethan be that boy’s daddy, but not mine?” I didn’t answer. I just walked into the principal’s office and signed his transfer papers. I decided to get a divorce and take my son away forever. This time, no matter how much Ethan regrets it, my son and I will never look back. “Mrs. Vance, the transfer papers you requested are ready.” “Are you sure you want to finalize this now?” The principal sat behind her desk, looking at me with a hint of hesitation. Outside the window, bursts of laughter from the playground drifted into the office. Today was Pre-K Family Day. Just moments ago, Leo was standing by my side, eagerly staring at the entrance. Until Ethan Carter showed up. Before I could even react, a little boy rushed into his arms, looking up and shouting, “Daddy!” Ethan leaned down, patiently wiping the sweat from the boy’s forehead, and scooped him up into a warm hug. Chloe Jenkins stood beside them. The three of them looked exactly like a picture-perfect family. Meanwhile, my son stood next to me. He watched the scene in a daze, his tiny hands tightening around his activity card until the paper crumpled. After what felt like an eternity, he looked up and whispered, “Mommy, why is Uncle Ethan being someone else’s daddy?” At that moment, the words choked in my throat. I simply turned around and walked into the principal’s office. “Process the transfer now, please.” “Mrs. Vance, if you want to think about it for a bit longer…” “There’s no need.” I picked up the pen and signed my name on the final line of the form. My name was the only one on that line. It had always been just me. I handed the form back to the principal. “Also, please keep this confidential. I don’t want anyone to know about Leo’s transfer until we actually leave.” The principal stared at me for a moment before finally nodding. “Alright. I understand.” The moment I stepped out of the office, I ran straight into Ethan and Chloe. Ethan was my boss, and more importantly, the father of my child. Seven years ago, I was his executive assistant. After a wild, drunken night, we ended up having a baby. This year marked the sixth year of our secret marriage. It was also the sixth year he forced our son to call him “Uncle Ethan.” Ethan had one hand around Chloe’s waist while the other held the little boy’s hand. The scene was so sweet it burned my eyes. As we crossed paths, I couldn’t help but speak up. “Ethan…” He stopped in his tracks, his expression instantly turning icy. “Miss Vance.” His polite, distant tone carried a sharp warning, as if reminding me: *We aren’t close.* I understood his silent threat perfectly and swallowed my emotions. I let out a bitter, silent laugh. I had actually wanted to ask him to spend one last birthday with our son. But what was the point? He wouldn’t care anyway. My phone screen lit up. It was a text from my son’s smartwatch. [Mommy, did you tell Daddy to come home for my birthday tonight?] I froze, instinctively looking back. I saw Ethan leaning down, gently talking to Chloe’s son. The tenderness in his eyes was unmistakable. Swallowing the bitterness in my throat, I sent Ethan a text message anyway. [Today is Leo’s birthday. You promised you’d celebrate with him tonight.] I saw Ethan pick up his phone. He glanced at it for less than three seconds, set it back down, and showed absolutely no reaction. Staring at the silent chat screen, I smiled mockingly at myself. *Nora, what are you still expecting from a husband whose heart belongs to another woman?* I slid my phone back into my pocket, took a deep breath, and walked away. *Ethan, soon enough, you’ll only have one son left.*

I walked to the classroom door and picked up Leo. The moment he saw me, he ran over and excitedly grabbed my hand. “Mommy, today is my birthday! Can I finally call him Daddy tonight?” Standing in the middle of the crowded hallway, tears welled up in my eyes. “Your dad…” Before I could finish, my phone buzzed. Ethan had finally found the time to reply. [I’ll be home tonight.] I stared at the message for a few seconds, my heart completely numb. This would be the last time. I locked my phone, looked down at Leo, and said softly, “Daddy said he’ll be home tonight.” Leo’s eyes instantly lit up, his voice bursting with pure joy. “Really?” I nodded, forcing a smile. “Really.” That evening, I cooked a table full of his favorite dishes. Leo finished his homework early. He sat on the couch wearing his party hat, checking the front door every few minutes. At 7:00 PM, Ethan wasn’t home. At 8:00 PM, there was still no sound at the door. By 9:00 PM, the food on the table had gone completely cold. I sent text after text, asking where he was. But just like always, there was no reply. Leo seemed to realize what was happening. He looked at me timidly. “Mommy, is Daddy not coming back?” I walked over, pulled him into my arms, and gently stroked his hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.” Leo shook his head, obediently holding up his birthday hat. “Mommy, can you help me put it on?” I nodded. But as I reached for the hat, my eyes caught a new Instagram notification from Chloe. [Such a wonderful day. He took me and my baby out for a candlelit dinner. ❤️] Attached was a photo of a high-end restaurant. Even though his face was cropped out, I instantly recognized the wedding band on the man’s hand in the corner of the photo. It was the ring we had picked out together when we got married. How ironic. On his own son’s sixth birthday, he was having a romantic candlelit dinner with his mistress. I tapped the “like” button and put my phone down. I turned back and placed the birthday hat on my son’s head. “Happy birthday, Leo.” Under the warm glow of the single candle, Leo closed his eyes and folded his hands. “My birthday wish is to stay with Mommy forever.” I snapped a photo of him with my phone to capture the moment. “Okay. Mommy promises you.” That night, neither of us mentioned Ethan again. Once Leo fell asleep, I pulled out the divorce papers I had prepared beforehand from the drawer. The last shred of hesitation in my heart completely vanished. At 2:00 AM, Ethan finally came home. Seeing the half-eaten cake on the table, a flicker of guilt crossed his eyes. “Sorry, I lost track of time.” I almost laughed out loud. I had sent him dozens of texts. Did he really not see them? Or did celebrating another boy’s birthday make him forget everything else? I flipped the divorce papers to the signature page and handed them to him, trying to keep my voice steady. “Sign this…” Before I could finish, Ethan’s phone rang. Chloe’s panicked voice echoed through the quiet house. “Ethan, Mason has a fever. He won’t stop crying and keeps asking for you. I don’t know what to do…” Ethan stood up instantly, anxiety written all over his face. “Hold on, I’m coming right now.” Hanging up, he didn’t even look at what I handed him. He just scribbled his signature on the bottom line. I stepped back into the shadows and silently watched him rush out the door. *Ethan, you’re the one who abandoned this family.* *From now on, Leo and I will never wait for you again.*

The next day, Ethan came home and handed me a beautifully wrapped gift box. “A birthday present for Leo.” I looked up at him, took the box, and opened it. Inside was a remote-control car. I froze. Not because the gift was expensive, but because I had just seen this exact toy on Chloe’s Instagram story last night. Her caption had been: *He didn’t like it. Played with it for two minutes and threw it away.* So this was the “makeup” birthday gift Ethan brought for Leo. Giving his own biological son a toy that another woman’s child had discarded. I casually tossed the box onto the side table. My tone was flat. “Thanks, but he doesn’t need it.” Ethan gave me a strange look, but then he remembered something else. “One more thing.” “Mason had a fever last night, and Chloe can’t handle it alone. I’m planning to bring them here to stay for a few days until he gets better.” I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. “You mean you’re bringing Chloe and her son to live in our house?” Ethan’s expression was completely casual. “It’s just temporary. Just a few days.” “The kid is sick. He needs someone around.” I stared at him, feeling a cold shiver run down my spine. “What about Leo?” “Mason has a fever. Aren’t you worried he’ll pass it to Leo?” For once, Ethan hesitated. But he quickly came up with a thoughtless solution. “That’s why I want you to take Leo to a hotel for a few days.” “Once Mason is fully recovered, I’ll bring you both back.” I found it incredibly laughable. “Ethan Carter.” “Do you even hear yourself?” He frowned, seemingly annoyed by my reaction. “Nora, don’t be unreasonable.” “I’ll have my assistant book a nice hotel. I’ll cover all the expenses.” I suddenly burst into laughter. Even now, he actually thought I was upset about the cost of a hotel. I didn’t want to look at him anymore. “Fine.” “I’ll pack our bags and leave with Leo as soon as possible. We won’t get in your way.” Since we were leaving anyway, doing it a bit earlier made no difference. He opened his mouth, his tone softening slightly. “It won’t be long.” I didn’t look up. I just remained silent. I packed our suitcases and led Leo toward the door. But the moment I pushed the door open, I ran right into Ethan bringing them in. He was wheeling Chloe’s suitcase with one hand while holding her son in his other arm. When our eyes met, I saw a flash of panic in his eyes. Chloe gasped dramatically. “Nora? What are you doing here?” Hearing her, I immediately pulled Leo behind me, blocking his view. “I—” “They are my relatives. They’re just staying here temporarily,” Ethan cut in before I could speak. His grip on the suitcase handle tightened. It wasn’t the first time he had denied me, but every single time, it still felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Just as I was about to speak, Leo beat me to it. “Hello, Uncle Ethan.” I turned to look at my son in disbelief, only to see his eyes brimming with tears. “Mommy, let’s go,” Leo whispered. All my words choked in my throat. I squeezed his hand and replied softly, “Okay.” As we brushed past them, Ethan grabbed my wrist.

His grip was incredibly tight. “Nora.” “Did you teach him to say that on purpose?” I smiled, finding his anger deeply ironic. “Didn’t you say it yourself? In public, he is only allowed to call you Uncle.” Six years of secret marriage. Ethan hadn’t just hidden our relationship from the public. What was even more pathetic was that Leo was only allowed to call him “Daddy” on his birthday. Every year, seeing Leo so excited for his birthday just so he could call his own father “Daddy” broke my heart. I looked down and tried to wrench my hand free, but his grip didn’t budge. Ethan stared at me, his eyes filled with a complex emotion. “Give me a few days.” “I’ll explain things to Leo.” I reminded him coldly, “Chloe is waiting for you. Let go.” As if suddenly waking up, Ethan reluctantly released his grip. I let out a cold laugh and turned to walk away with Leo. But Ethan suddenly called out behind us. “Wait.” He ran back to his car and brought out a cake box, holding it out to me. “Leo, happy birthday.” Chloe chimed in right on cue. “Ethan originally bought this cake for Mason, but the poor thing has a fever and can’t eat anything.” “Your son might as well have it.” The cake in my hands suddenly felt like it weighed a ton. I wanted to throw it back at them, but then I saw the faint spark of hope in Leo’s eyes. He asked timidly, “Uncle Ethan, is this really for me?” Ethan gave a brief nod. Leo finally showed his first smile of the night. He pulled my hand, dragging me toward the living room. “Mommy, open it quick!” I silently untied the ribbon and opened the box. The very next second, my hands froze. Right in the center of the frosting, written in neat letters, was: *Happy Birthday, Mason!* The air in the room instantly turned ice-cold. The smile on Leo’s face slowly froze and crumbled. He stared at the words for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “Mommy… this isn’t my cake, is it?” My throat tightened, and my fingers began to tremble. Chloe gasped, covering her mouth as if she had just noticed. “Oh my god, how could the bakery forget to change the name?” I didn’t say a word. Because I knew very well that the bakery hadn’t “forgotten.” From the very beginning, this cake was never meant for Leo. Leo slowly lowered his head, his voice cracking. “I don’t want it.” “I don’t want things that other people threw away.” With that, my son buried his face deep into my chest, refusing to look at Ethan again. Without a second of hesitation, I picked up my son and walked out. Even as we walked out of the villa, I could still feel Ethan’s panicked, apologetic gaze on my back. But this time, neither my son nor I felt a single thing.

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On the eve of our wedding, the yacht my fiancé was on capsized. He was officially declared dead. I cried until I almost passed out. Reeling from grief, I walked onto the street in a daze and was hit by a speeding car. As my life slipped away, I heard my fiancé’s best friend making a phone call: “Ethan, you need to get back from Switzerland right now! Chloe just got into a horrific car accident!” The sound of a glass shattering came through the line, followed by my sister’s whiny crying: “Ethan, you promised you’d stay in Switzerland with me for a year! You can’t leave!” It turned out my fiancé wasn’t dead. He had faked his death just to run off to Switzerland and be with my sister, Lily. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the very day Ethan “died.” Two weeks later. The news of my engagement to Julian Harrington, the sole heir of the Harrington empire, spread like wildfire through high society. Luke, the “loyal” friend who had helped Ethan orchestrate his fake death, rushed over to confront me, his face pale with anger. “Chloe, Ethan just passed away! How could you be so desperate to throw yourself into another man’s arms?” I looked at him, my voice cold and dry. “He’s dead, Luke. Am I supposed to rot in a grave with him, or am I allowed to actually live my life?”

The words of that phone call from my past life were burned into my soul. Dragging my legs, which felt like lead, I followed my raw instinct that the truth was waiting for me. I walked toward the glass conservatory in the backyard of the estate. The glass door was slightly ajar. Inside, a voice I knew all too well drifted out, dripping with casual amusement. “Is my funeral over yet?” The voice was coming from Luke’s phone on speaker. “Not yet, Ethan,” Luke replied with a chuckle. “How’s Chloe? She hasn’t suspected anything, has she?” Luke laughed. “Not a chance. She’s running herself ragged organizing your memorial. Yesterday, she almost fainted from crying so hard. She’s probably locked in her room weeping right now.” Ethan’s tone was entirely dismissive. “Good. Do me a favor and comfort her a bit.” Another friend, Mason, chimed in. “Seriously though, Ethan. You must really be head over heels for Lily. Faking your own death just to chase her to Switzerland? You even made us play along with this crazy stunt.” It was word for word, exactly like the conversation from my previous life. I gripped the cold iron railing outside the greenhouse so hard my knuckles turned white. My entire body trembled with rage. I heard Ethan speak again: “Mind your own business about my feelings. Just make sure she doesn’t find out.” Luke asked, “So, are you still going through with the wedding when you get back?” “Of course. Once I return, the wedding goes on as planned. But before I tie myself down, you’ve got to let me have one last wild ride for true love, right?” “Haha, true. Once you’re married, you’re locked down. No more freedom. Enjoy it, man!” The three of them laughed, a sickening, conspiratorial sound. My blood turned to pure ice. I had prayed a thousand times for Ethan’s survival in my past life, but I never imagined the truth would be this disgusting. In my past life, I died in the depths of this despair. But this time, I didn’t barge in to scream at them. I turned around quietly and walked away from the greenhouse. In the bathroom, I dry-heaved into the sink for what felt like hours. I looked at the woman in the mirror. I hadn’t slept in days. My eyes were bloodshot, my face pale and hollow. I splashed freezing water onto my face and wiped away the tear stains. This time, I would not be their puppet. When I walked out of the room, Luke handed me some tissues, his face a perfect mask of sympathy. “Chloe, don’t be too hard on yourself. Ethan is looking down on you from heaven. He wouldn’t want to see you like this.” I looked up at his hypocritical face. “Luke… do you think there’s any chance Ethan is still alive?” Luke’s eyes flickered with panic for a split second before he quickly regained his composure. “H-how is that possible? The search and rescue team recovered his personal belongings from the ocean. You saw them yourself.” A week ago, Ethan’s private yacht had lost contact in the bay. The coast guard concluded he was swept away by a sudden swell while attempting to abandon the malfunctioning vessel. I had stayed at the harbor all night, refusing to close my eyes. They searched for days, only recovering his jacket and watch. I had nearly fainted from grief. Today was supposed to be our wedding day. I had spent the morning clutching our photos, crying until my head throbbed. And now, I knew it was all a game to him. My grief was nothing but a punchline to them. How could I have been so incredibly stupid to believe their lies in my past life? Luke sighed. “Chloe, stop overthinking. If Ethan could see you now, his heart would break.” *His heart would break…* What a sick joke. Just this morning, I had thanked Luke for helping me arrange the memorial. It turned out they were all trash from the same dumpster.

Using the fragmented memories of my past life, I found an old iPad that my sister, Lily, had left behind at our family villa. I entered a few potential passwords, and on the third try, the screen lit up. There was a locked folder in her photo vault named “Lily’s Private Garden.” The latest photos in the folder were set against the backdrop of a picturesque town at the foot of the Swiss Alps. There was a close-up of two hands tightly locked together, followed by an intimate, breathless hug. I knew the tiny mole on the man’s hand all too well. The caption read: *”He said as soon as he handles the family drama back home, he’ll stay with me forever. What’s ten thousand miles? True love knows no distance.”* The location tag read: *Interlaken, Switzerland.* Scroll down, and there were her diary entries: *”Finally got my baby! Patience really pays off! 🥰”* *”Some people just won’t let go of a spot that doesn’t belong to them, but true love always wins~”* *”We are so in love. Forever and always!”* So, while I was literally losing my mind organizing my fiancé’s “funeral,” my darling sister was basking in the sweetness of “true love” in her private little world. I had been kept completely in the dark until the moment of my death in my past life. My relationship with Ethan wasn’t an arranged one. We met in high school. Back then, my parents had already set their eyes on Julian Harrington as my future husband. But I despised the idea of a transactional marriage. My parents’ marriage was purely for business. Since I was a child, I watched them pretend to be a loving couple in public, only to bring their respective lovers home behind closed doors. The few times they were in the same room, it was a toxic cycle of screaming matches and blame. I hated that hypocrisy. So, I ran from the idea of an arranged marriage. In my sophomore year, Ethan sat behind me. Whenever I was down, he’d hover around me like an eager golden retriever. Saying yes to him felt natural. We went from high school sweethearts to the altar. We had even gone back to our high school recently to give a speech. Everyone called us a fairytale come to life. I basked in that envy, truly believing I had found my soulmate. I never could have guessed that the man I thought would never betray me had been sleeping with my younger sister. In her digital diary, Lily affectionately called him “hubby” and posted “spicy snaps with my sister’s fiancé.” Ethan held her, posing for intimate photos. Though his face was kept out of the frame, his smug satisfaction was obvious. Every single “business trip” he took, he took her with him. Every night I thought he was working overtime, he was actually in my sister’s bed. I remembered once telling him not to work so hard. He had smiled and said, *”I want your parents to respect me, Chloe. I want to make enough money to give you a wedding that everyone will envy.”* Five minutes before his “accident,” Ethan had texted me: *”No matter what happens, Chloe, I will love you forever.”* In my past life, I cried every time I read that text. Now, it was just a pathetic piece of garbage.

I walked downstairs. A small, private memorial was being held in the living room. Ethan’s mother, Eleanor Sinclair, was sitting in the center. When she saw me walk down, her swollen, red eyes flared with pure hatred. “If you hadn’t begged my son to hurry back, he wouldn’t have rushed onto that yacht! You are the reason my son is dead!” Ethan was supposed to be in Switzerland overseeing a project. The day after his “accident” was our scheduled wedding dress fitting. He was supposedly rushing back when the yacht failed. When I first heard of his death, I swallowed my own grief to comfort Eleanor. But she had pushed me away, screaming, “You’re a curse! You killed my son!” Eleanor and I never got along. Before the accident, Ethan promised we wouldn’t live with her after the wedding. But over the last few days, consumed by guilt, I had let her use me as a punching bag. But now, looking at her weeping dramatically in front of Ethan’s massive oil portrait, she looked like a clown in a cheap soap opera. For some reason, a dry chuckle escaped my lips. She went stiff with rage. “What are you laughing at?!” She lunged forward, raising her hand to slap me. Mason rushed over to hold her back. “Mrs. Sinclair, please calm down! Chloe is just out of her mind with grief. She’s not mentally stable right now. Don’t take it out on her.” Luke added quickly, “Chloe, apologize to Mrs. Sinclair right now.” I walked slowly over to Eleanor. She assumed I was going to beg for forgiveness and turned her head away in disgust. “Save your breath. I will never forgive you. You were only engaged, not married. Don’t think you’re getting a single dime of my son’s estate.” I bent down and whispered directly into her ear: “Do you really not know who your son faked his death to run off with? Just wait until my sister gets back. The Sinclair family name is going to be dragged through the mud.” She gasped, clutching her chest, and fell back onto the sofa. It felt incredibly satisfying. The relatives panicked, swarming around her. Shaking her finger at me, she screamed, “She really did kill my son! Luke! Call the police! Have her arrested!” I let tears well up in my eyes right on cue, letting my body sway weakly. “Since you hate me so much, Mrs. Sinclair, I guess I have no choice but to pack my things and leave.” “Chloe, don’t say things in anger,” Luke tried to intervene. “Don’t stop me,” I said, putting on a brave, tragic face. “My presence only brings her pain. I’ve decided to move out.” Luke and Mason exchanged a panicked look. This was clearly not part of the script Ethan had written. Luke hurried into the corner to send a Snapchat message to Ethan. *Luke: “Your mom is losing it. She’s screaming at Chloe, and Chloe is packing her bags to leave the Sinclair estate.”* *Ethan: “My mom has a temper, but she’s sacrificed a lot for me. Tell Chloe to just deal with it and swallow her pride.”* *Luke: “But… your mom is relentlessly cursing her out. Chloe is determined to leave.”* *Ethan: “Let her leave then. It’s fine. Once I return, all it’ll take is one word from me to get her back.”* *Luke: “Alright, I’ll let her go.”* In my past life, I never saw these texts. But now, I knew exactly what they were playing at. I didn’t take much—just a small jewelry box and a few everyday clothes. I left the rest behind, telling the crowd, “I’ll leave these here as memories,” but in reality, I was making a clean, public break. My best friend, Nova Harrington, came to pick me up. “Chloe, are you really okay?” she asked gently. She had seen me crying like my world had ended just days ago. “I’m fine,” I said, leaning back against the leather seat. “I just need to get away from there.” Nova thought for a moment. “My brother has a penthouse downtown. He’s barely ever there, and his housekeeper keeps it spotless. Why don’t you stay there for a bit? Take your time finding a new place.” As she handed me the key fob, I asked, “Is your brother going to show up unexpectedly?” “No way. I asked him recently, and he said he has no plans of returning to the city anytime soon. Even if he does, he usually stays at the Harrington estate or a hotel. You’ll have the place entirely to yourself.” I slept for two solid days in the penthouse. The swelling in my eyes finally went down. On the third night, Nova dragged me to an exclusive, members-only cocktail lounge to take my mind off things. After a few drinks, I spotted Luke and Mason in a VIP booth on the second floor. I didn’t want to deal with them, so I turned my head, pretending not to see them. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Luke pull out his phone, snap a photo of my profile, and send it to Ethan. *Luke: “Just saw Chloe drinking her sorrows away at the Sky Lounge. Should I go over and comfort her?”* *Ethan: “Yeah, I did feel a bit bad about how things handled. She must be hurting.”* Luke pocketed his phone and started walking toward the stairs. But halfway down, his phone buzzed again. *Ethan: “Actually, don’t bother. Let her feel the pain of losing me a bit longer. When I ‘rise from the dead,’ she’ll cherish me even more.”*

*Luke: “True. You really know how to handle her.”* *Ethan: “Just keep an eye on her. The lounge is packed, make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.”* *Mason texted Ethan: “Man, I wish I could find a girl as loyal, beautiful, and rich as Chloe. I’d die happy.”* *Luke replied to Mason: “You could always shoot your shot now while Ethan’s ‘dead.’”* *Mason: “Hell no, Ethan would literally murder me when he gets back.”* During my years with Ethan, several of his friends had tried to hit on me behind his back. Whenever Ethan found out, he cut them off instantly. But that cheap possessiveness was never loyalty. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a cloud synchronization alert. The locked folder from Lily’s old iPad had synced new photos. Lily had posted a new update: *”23 days left. Today he took me to see the Northern Lights~ Romance at the edge of the world, just for us. 🌌”* Below, she had replied to her own post using a burner account: *”Why does your man still have to go back? Why can’t he just stay with you forever?!”* Lily’s reply: *”He says he still has some responsibilities to handle back home. But it’s fine. Once he wraps things up, we’ll be free.”* Another comment from her burner: *”Some people are just holding onto a spot they don’t deserve. So annoying. Wishing you guys eternal happiness!”* Unbelievable. Over the past two days, I had stared at these photos and logs repeatedly. The process felt like carving Ethan out of my heart with a dull knife. It hurt, but it worked. Grief was slowly replaced by pure disgust. Now, looking at their lovey-dovey pictures, I felt nothing but relief that I had escaped. *Since you love documenting your happiness so much, let’s make sure everyone gets to appreciate it.* I took screenshots of all the logs and photos and sent them to a close friend who worked as an editor for a prominent business news outlet. *”I have some juicy gossip about the newly deceased tech rising star, Ethan Sinclair. I think your readers would love it.”* I had a few too many drinks at the lounge and didn’t get back to the penthouse until late. The alcohol had dulled my senses. I didn’t notice the “Under Maintenance” sign hanging on the guest bathroom door. Feeling dizzy, I walked up to the second floor and saw the light on in the master bathroom. The door was slightly open. Assuming Nova had left it on, I pushed the door open to turn it off. The sound of running water echoed. Through the frosted glass, I saw the silhouette of a tall, muscular man. I froze, my mind instantly clearing. I turned to bolt, but my foot slipped on a wet tile. A wet, muscular arm shot out from behind the glass door, catching me firmly by the waist. The man let out a low grunt as he shut off the water. “Who’s there?” The glass door slid open. Amidst the rising steam, Julian Harrington stood there. He had nothing but a white towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets ran down his chiseled chest and abs. His dark, piercing eyes locked onto mine. “Chloe?” It took me a few seconds to connect the mature, ridiculously built, and intimidating man in front of me with the quiet, aloof boy from high school. “I… I’m sorry. The guest bathroom had a sign on it, and I thought no one was here…” I stammered, my wrist still caught in his firm grip. His grip loosened instantly. His throat bobbed as he grabbed a dark silk robe, throwing it over his shoulders. He looked away. “You can use this bathroom. I’ll use the guest one.” Nova had told me he never came here. I didn’t expect… “Nova lent me this place. I didn’t know you were coming back tonight,” I explained, looking down. I realized the strap of my silk slip dress had slid down my shoulder during the slip. Julian, who had already turned his back to put on pair of sweatpants, answered in a low, even voice. “It’s fine. You can stay. I have a project in the city, so I’ll be dropping by occasionally. If you feel uncomfortable…” “I don’t,” I interrupted, pulling my strap back up. “This is your place. I’m the one intruding.” HiHis hand paused as he tied his sweatpants. “I should have let you know. Goodnight.” With that, he grabbed his clothes and walked out, heading to the guest room at the end of the hall.

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My family is filthy rich. But in my past life, I ended up dumpster diving and eating discarded food just to avoid spending a single penny. All because of my snake of a colleague, Chloe Finch. She secretly installed spyware on my phone. Every single dollar I spent digitally was silently redirected straight into her bank account. Then, she used gaslighting and moral blackmail to force me into signing a pledge at our company’s annual gala, promising to cover the catering and venue bill for the entire company. Thinking it was just a good way to build professional relationships, I didn’t think twice. I signed a digital billing authorization for three hundred thousand dollars. But the moment the form was uploaded, my payment authorization mysteriously glitched. My bank accounts showed a terrifying balance of zero. Overnight, the entire office branded me as a pathetic liar who wrote bad checks. Even Jackson Miller, the rising star of our department whom I was dating, dumped me on the spot. Meanwhile, Chloe used my stolen money to flaunt her wealth. She generously paid the bill for everyone, branding herself as a sweet, generous heiress. She even spread rumors that I was just a charity case living off her family’s scraps. Furious, I pulled out my physical black card to prove my wealth, but the credit card terminals kept throwing fraud alerts, locking my limits. Chloe, on the other hand, casually swiped her card to pay a million-dollar deposit, booking the most expensive restaurant in the city. She sneered at me in front of everyone: “Still trying to play rich when you’re flat broke, Sera? Your mother is just a maid. Does her hourly wage even cover the cost of you pretending to be high class?” I was subjected to horrific cyberbullying and workplace harassment. The mental toll was too much, and my health rapidly deteriorated due to the stress. Before my dad could return from abroad to save me, my heart gave out, and I died in misery. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the company gala. Right at the exact moment Chloe was pressuring me to sign the dinner pledge in front of everyone.

“Sera Wood, you are so incredibly vain! You’re just a maid’s daughter. How dare you brag about paying for the entire company’s dinner!” “Exactly! If Chloe hadn’t generously stepped in and covered the bill for us tonight, you’d be exposed as a total fraud!” “Apologize to Chloe right now, or I’m calling the police for wire fraud and damaging the company’s reputation!” The deafening screech of insults rang in my ears. Jostled by the aggressive crowd of colleagues around me, I snapped back to reality. Looking at the familiar, angry faces of my coworkers, it finally clicked. I had been reborn. I was back to the day Chloe used that malware to set me up, forcing me to make a fool of myself at the gala. Just seconds ago, the digital payment authorization I signed had mysteriously failed. And Chloe had immediately stepped up, swiped her card to pay the bill, and loudly announced to everyone that I was just the daughter of her family’s housekeeper. Suddenly, a clear, intrusive thought flashed in my mind. It was Chloe’s inner voice! *【Sign it, you idiot! The software is already running. Once the authorization goes through, all your family’s cash will flow directly into my account!】* I understood everything in an instant. Seeing my silence, Chloe pushed through the crowd, putting on a fake, concerned face. “Sera, I didn’t mind when you secretly wore my designer dresses left at the office, or when you borrowed my limited-edition handbags to show off on Snapchat. But how could you write a bad check at a major company event?” “We all know you don’t have the money to pay for this. Just apologize. Otherwise, I won’t be able to defend you in front of the regional manager anymore!” Looking at the malicious greed in her eyes, I knew she was trying to bait me into a prideful rage. In my past life, I had fallen for it. I had angrily thrown my black card on the table, telling everyone to order whatever they wanted. But when the servers went to process the payment, the card reader blared: “Transaction Declined. Insufficient Funds. Please try again.” In contrast, Chloe had swept in like a savior, transferring millions to cover everything, even promising to pay for all future company outings. I became the office pariah—a vain, pathetic imposter—while Chloe became the beloved, generous billionaire heiress. As I was calculating my next move, my boyfriend, Jackson, suddenly broke through the crowd. He was the golden boy of our marketing team. Tonight, he was dripping in designer clothes, wearing a luxury watch worth a hundred grand on his wrist—all bought with my money. He pointed a finger at me, disgust written all over his face. “Sera Wood! I actually believed you were from a wealthy family. Turns out you’re just a cheap fraud! If you hadn’t practically begged me and acted like my loyal little puppy for the past year, I wouldn’t have looked at you twice. We are over. Don’t ever contact me again!” But he was the one who had practically begged me on his knees to date him after drooling over my luxury lifestyle posts on Instagram. If he hadn’t been decent-looking and competent at his job, I wouldn’t have bothered keeping him as a pet. But now, he looked at me like I was toxic waste, violently shoving me back to make sure everyone saw him cutting ties with me. The onlookers cheered, congratulating Jackson on escaping a “gold-digger.” Ha. A gold-digger? I gave him a hundred-thousand-dollar monthly allowance. And they called him the victim. Just as I opened my mouth to expose them, Chloe’s eyes welled with fake tears, and she slapped me across the face. “Sera, why can’t you just admit you’re wrong? Your mother is a housekeeper at my estate, but I’ve always treated you like a sister! All you had to do was say sorry, and I would have forgiven you. Why do you have to keep lying?” “Admit it? Fine. I’ll admit it right now.” I held my red, stinging cheek, stood up straight, and raised my voice so the entire room could hear: “You’re right. I, Sera Wood, am just a maid’s daughter! I was vain, I pretended to be Chloe, and I made a promise I couldn’t keep. I was wrong!” “I hope the great heiress Chloe Finch can find it in her heart to forgive a poor maid’s daughter like me.”

The entire room fell dead silent. No one expected me to confess so easily. Chloe stammered, trying to find more words to humiliate me, but I turned around and walked straight out of the banquet hall, giving her no chance to spin her web further. The moment I got back to the modest apartment I had rented to “experience normal life,” I opened my shopping apps. Chloe probably thought my lack of resistance meant I was planning something. But as she watched her bank account balance swell, she couldn’t help but gloat. She immediately sent me a message on Snapchat: *”Sera, the team says you need to prove your apology. Order 100 deluxe organic catering boxes to the office tomorrow.”* I sneered and replied with a simple, *”Sure.”* I ordered the most expensive catering boxes available. But the moment the delivery driver dropped them off at the front desk, I immediately logged onto the app and clicked “Refund – Wrong Address/Item Spoiled.” I didn’t stop there. I went on Amazon and luxury retail apps, buying millions of dollars worth of designer gear, and immediately filed “Chargeback” disputes and “Item Not Received” refunds. With a few clicks, the hundreds of thousands of dollars I had just “spent” flowed right back into my bank accounts. In the distance, I could practically hear Chloe’s panicked thoughts. *【What the hell? Why is my ledger app showing a random catering purchase? And why can’t I delete this refund history?!】* I knew it! To perfectly replicate my transaction history, her spyware automatically generated matching records on her device. But a refund bypasses the spyware’s routing, leaving an indelible, undeletable digital trail of fraud on her phone! I wanted to scream with joy. Chloe was in for a wild ride. Over the next few days, I went on a massive three-million-dollar shopping spree. And for every single purchase—from cheap snacks and makeup to limited-edition luxury bags, designer gowns, and even a foreclosed suburban property—I exploited the instant-refund and chargeback loophole. Still, a lingering anxiety remained. Remembering how my health had suddenly collapsed in my past life, I decided to head back to my family’s actual estate over the weekend to investigate. But the moment I pushed open the grand double doors of my mansion, I froze. Chloe and Jackson were throwing a wild party in my living room, surrounded by a crowd of my coworkers. When they saw me, their faces immediately twisted in disgust. “Oh, Sera. You’re back,” Chloe said. She was wearing one of my custom-tailored designer gowns, casually swirling a glass of 1992 Chateau Lafite. She walked toward me with mock elegance. “It’s Jackson’s birthday today. He really wanted to have his party at my family’s estate, so I brought him and the team over. We actually drank through the entire wine cellar. Go order a few more cases of the ’92 Lafite right now.” I stared at her glowing, heavily made-up face, momentarily stunned. Clothes really do make the person. Chloe, funded by the millions she had stolen from me, looked entirely different from the plain, nervous girl who had followed her mother to my house years ago to beg for a job. But I was genuinely curious about how she was pulling this off. Seeing me silent, Chloe grew impatient, pointing a manicured finger at my face. “What are you standing there for? Move! I put together this birthday bash for Jackson. If you ruin his night, you won’t survive the consequences. Oh, and make sure you get the Lafite. It’s Jackson’s favorite.” “And while you’re at it, call the Michelin-star pastry shop for a custom cake, and book a VIP lounge at the rooftop club for the afterparty.” I almost laughed out loud at her sheer audacity. Using my stolen money to fund her luxury lifestyle, and now she wanted me to act as her personal errand girl? In her dreams.

I stood rooted to the spot, refusing to budge. Looking at the hundreds of empty, priceless wine bottles littered around the room, I silently prayed for them. If my dad found out his vintage collection had been guzzled by these parasites, he would personally destroy them. Jackson, clearly drunk, stumbled over, flanked by a group of scowling coworkers. “Sera Wood, are you deaf? You’re a worthless maid’s daughter. When Chloe, our resident heiress, tells you to do something, you jump! Go buy the damn wine!” “If you ruin Jackson’s birthday because of your laziness, Chloe can have your mother fired with a single phone call. She’ll be begging for scraps on the street!” one coworker sneered. The luxury watch I had gifted Jackson was gone. In its place was a ridiculously thick, gaudy solid gold watch. He was also spinning a key fob for a limited-edition supercar on his finger, looking like a total textbook nouveau riche. No wonder everyone was kissing his ass. Chloe must have spent at least three million of my dollars on him. I couldn’t help but chuckle. No wonder Chloe was so desperate for me to keep spending; she needed to fund her boytoy. “I’m so sorry, Chloe,” I said mockingly. “My salary is only a few thousand dollars a month. I don’t have the funds to prepay for your expensive wine. If you want to fire my mother, go ahead. I’ll tell her to pack her bags and leave your estate immediately.” I turned to leave, but someone grabbed my hair from behind, ripping me backward. “Sera Wood, you ungrateful bitch! How dare a servant’s daughter talk back to Chloe!” Jackson’s eyes were filled with pure malice. “If you hadn’t stolen Chloe’s identity and tricked me, Chloe and I wouldn’t have wasted so much time apart!” “I’m going to teach you some manners today!” With a wave of his hand, half a dozen coworkers ran forward, pinning my arms behind my back. I struggled, panic rising in my chest. “Let me go! Are you all insane?!” Jackson laughed maniacally and slapped me hard across the face. “I’m doing Chloe a favor by disciplining her servant!” Searing pain bloomed across my face. My lip split, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Chloe stood by, sipping her wine and watching the show with a satisfied smirk. “Honestly, Sera, I’ve been way too soft on you. That’s why you forgot your place. It’s good for Jackson to teach you a lesson. Maybe now you’ll remember who the real owner of this estate is.” Dizzy and bleeding, I screamed for the estate’s butler and security, only to realize the house staff had been completely dismissed for the party. It seemed that during the months I was living near the office to focus on work, Chloe’s mother had completely taken over the estate management. After a while, Jackson grew tired of hitting me. But his greedy eyes suddenly locked onto my wrist. “Where did you get that watch? You stole it from Chloe, didn’t you?!” His eyes lit up with greed as he grabbed my wrist, trying to rip the watch off. The metal dug painfully into my skin. “Let go! This was my mother’s!” I screamed. Jackson didn’t believe me. He kicked me squarely in the chest, knocking the wind out of me. “Your maid mother could never afford a watch like this! You definitely stole it from Chloe’s room!” He twisted my wrist violently. This watch was the only thing my late mother had left me. I would rather die than let him take it. I thrashed wildly, prepared to fight them to the death. But right then, a sharp gasp echoed from the grand entryway. “What on earth are you doing?! Stop this right now!”

I looked up. It was Brenda Finch, Chloe’s mother—our estate’s housekeeper. Except today, she was dripping in diamonds and gold, looking like a wealthy Beverly Hills housewife. Chloe gathered her skirt and ran over to her, whining. “Mom, why are you back so early?” Jackson and the colleagues immediately stood up straight, politely greeting her. “Good evening, Mrs. Finch!” I spat out a mouthful of blood and sneered, “I didn’t know my family’s estate hired a new ‘Mrs. Finch’.” My dad had only been out of the country on business for six months. He trusted Brenda, a long-time employee, to look after the mansion. And this was how she repaid him? By trying to steal our home? Seeing my bloodied state on the floor, a flash of panic crossed Brenda’s eyes, but she quickly masked it with a stern face. “Hmph. You’re just a maid’s daughter. Stop acting like you own the place!” She turned to Chloe with a doting smile. “Chloe, sweetie, how many times have I told you? You are a high-society lady. Why are you wasting your time dealing with this trash? It’s beneath you.” “Since you’ve already taught her a lesson, throw her out! Don’t let her dirty our floors!” Chloe giggled and gestured for the coworkers to drag me out. But then, she pointed at my bruised wrist and the watch, looking for praise. “Mom, look! Luckily, I caught her trying to steal this watch. We can’t let her keep something this valuable!” But the moment Brenda’s eyes landed on my watch, the color drained from her face. She lunged forward, slapping Chloe’s hand away from my wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Brenda’s voice was visibly trembling. She looked at me with sheer terror, frantically trying to cover for me. “This… this watch is just a cheap knockoff her mother bought from a street vendor to look rich! It’s worthless junk!” “None of you are allowed to touch Sera’s watch ever again, do you hear me?!” At that moment, her inner panic echoed clearly in my mind: *【My god! The microchip inside can’t be damaged! If the signal breaks, the Trojan and the tracking device will completely fail!】* Looking at her terrified expression, the puzzle pieces fell into place. The watch held a micro-chip that boosted the spyware’s signal. It was the anchor for their entire theft operation! But Chloe herself had no idea. “Oh? A knockoff? I thought it was real!” “Figures. Sera is so vain, she’d wear fake trash just to fit in.” “Ugh, a maid’s daughter indeed. So pathetic.” The crowd mocked me as they threw me out into the cold night. I dragged myself up, immediately unclasped the watch, and sent a message to my dad telling him to return immediately. I also arranged for a trusted courier to take the watch to a tech-forensics lab. Then, I ran to the luxury boutique, spent three million dollars to buy an exact replica of the watch, and bought a brand-new phone. I turned off my old phone and sealed it in a lead bag. The moment I switched devices, the heavy, suffocating fog in my chest instantly cleared. I felt a surge of energy. It turned out the chip in the watch and the malware on my old phone had been emitting harmful low-frequency radiation, slowly poisoning my body while draining my bank account. To avoid alerting Brenda and Chloe, I continued my routine. Aside from ordering luxury items and filing for chargebacks, I posted daily selfies showing off my “new” watch on Instagram. Even though the comments were flooded with hate and mockery, I remained unfazed. Soon, Jackson couldn’t resist leaving a comment: *”Lmao, bragging about a fake watch? Let me show you what real wealth looks like.”* He immediately uploaded a five-minute video on Instagram. In the video, he was wearing a bespoke designer suit, kneeling before Chloe with a massive, flawless diamond ring. He shouted: “Chloe, will you marry me?” Chloe wept tears of joy, and instead of flower petals, the venue was showered with crisp, hundred-dollar bills. The extravagant video went viral instantly. “OMG, the power couple of our department! I’m so jealous!” “I looked up that ring—it’s easily worth a million dollars! Not to mention the cash shower!” “Sera Wood is officially a joke. Posting her fake watch daily while Jackson marries a literal billionaire!” I scrolled through the comments, smiling. In North America, credit card chargebacks and refund fraud over a certain amount are federal offenses. I wondered what Chloe’s face would look like when the authorities presented her with millions of dollars in fraudulent transactions that she couldn’t erase from her devices.

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I had a silent agreement with Ethan Sterling, the billionaire CEO. Every year on our wedding anniversary, we would drop all our work and spend the entire day together. But on our fifth anniversary, he didn’t show up. Instead, he flew to a private island for a vacation with his childhood sweetheart, Chloe Henderson. At the same time, he sent me the deed to my 100th luxury property as compensation. Just like he had done the previous 99 times. I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I simply attached the divorce agreement to the last page of the property transfer documents, waiting for his signature. After he signed the papers without looking, a rare soft expression appeared on his face. “Wait for me to get back. I promise I’ll make it up to you on our next anniversary.” But when he finally cleared his schedule to spend time with me, all he received was a text. “There won’t be a next time. We are done.” Over the past five years, Ethan had transferred a hundred luxury properties to my name. Every time a new deed arrived, he was always spotted somewhere with Chloe. Sometimes it was a high-end condo right next to an amusement park, the paperwork still smelling of fresh ink. Sometimes it was a beachfront villa on a private island, delivered to me along with his vacation itinerary. He even bought the building right across from City Hall. The title was transferred to me today, and tomorrow he would take Chloe to stay in the penthouse of that very building. The companionship I begged for was something Chloe got with absolute ease. And all I got in return was a stack of cold, lifeless property deeds. I locked my phone and sat on the curb, waiting for my Uber. I waited for a long time, but the car didn’t arrive. Instead, Ethan’s call came through. The moment I picked up, his cold voice echoed through the speaker. “It’s this late and you’re still not home? My wife is spending the night outside. Have you ever considered how that makes me look?” “Where are you right now?” I remained silent. If this were the past, I would have bowed my head first, explaining my situation in a soft, apologetic tone. But now, I just couldn’t bring myself to care. Ethan’s voice grew irritated. “Avery, did you suddenly go mute?” “Westview Heights Park.” Ethan went dead silent on the other end. It seemed he finally remembered today was our fifth wedding anniversary. He had once promised me that every year on this day, he would cancel all his meetings and spend it here with me. But today, he had flown to a private island in the Caribbean with Chloe, starting a three-day “anniversary weekend.” “I… wait for me. I’ll pick you up as soon as I’m done here.” The line went dead. I canceled my Uber. It wasn’t because I was expecting Ethan to show up. It was because the weather suddenly took a sharp turn, and a heavy blizzard started to fall. I stood by the side of the road, shivering violently. Due to the freezing temperature, my phone battery drained to zero in less than three hours. From beginning to end, Ethan never showed up. The last notification I saw before my phone died was a Page Six headline: *Billionaire Ethan Sterling Spotted on Private Island with Mystery Woman for Romantic Weekend.* The attached photo was a shot of him from behind, his arm wrapped tightly around Chloe’s waist at the airport. In the reflection of the black screen, I saw my own relieved smile. On our fifth anniversary, he chose to spend three days on a private island with Chloe. I waited in the snow all night, and he never showed. I spent five of the best years of my life collecting his “compensation” deeds. But in the end, one hundred luxury properties couldn’t beat a single moment of genuine presence. Ethan, I’m not waiting anymore. ***

In the freezing night, I didn’t go home. I dragged my numb body for two hours to the nearest hotel—which, ironically, was under my name. The deed was right inside my bag. That night, Ethan didn’t send another text or make another call. The next morning, I arrived at the office early to prepare my resignation letter. Ethan was the founder of the company. I was just a low-profile business specialist on paper, a ghost in his corporate empire. I had been by his side since he had nothing. But now, my presence was completely insignificant. Even if I vanished, Ethan wouldn’t notice a thing. Just as I was about to sign the last line of my resignation letter, Ethan suddenly appeared behind me. I remained completely calm under his gaze, switching my screen as if nothing had happened. He looked at me, his voice crisp. “What are you writing?” “Nothing. Just some property management files.” He frowned slightly, failing to notice anything unusual, and turned to walk into his private office. “Avery, come in for a second.” The moment Ethan called me in, the surrounding colleagues started whispering among themselves. “Oh no, Avery is going to get chewed out by Mr. Sterling again.” In the entire company, everyone assumed Chloe was his public partner. None of them knew I was his legal wife, holding nearly a hundred luxury deeds under my name. Inside the office, Ethan looked at me with a tight frown. “Just because I missed the anniversary, is it really necessary to throw such a tantrum and not even come home?” I shook my head. “The snow was too heavy. It wasn’t safe to drive.” It was the truth, but also an excuse. The important thing was that I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to leave forever. Ethan didn’t seem to notice my detachment. After a moment of silence, he spoke. “The transfer of the Fontainebleau Manor is complete. The deed will be delivered to you in a few days.” Then, he slid an invitation card over to me. “We are going tonight.” They were front-row tickets to my favorite symphony orchestra. I knew this was yet another one of his “compensations.” I thought about it and took the card. After all, he owed me this. Seeing that I remained quiet, Ethan opened his mouth, wanting to say something more. But a sharp ringtone cut him off. I watched him quickly step away to answer it. I knew it was Chloe. After all, only she had the power to make Ethan drop everything instantly. When I left his office, I printed out my resignation and went straight to Marcus Brody, the Vice President. Marcus was shocked when I handed him the papers. “Avery, you’re resigning? Is this because of Mr. Sterling?” I pursed my lips, finding it slightly amusing. They all thought I was leaving because I couldn’t handle Ethan’s harsh attitude at work. None of them knew it was because my heart was completely shattered. Seeing me nod, Marcus sighed and finally signed the approval. As I was leaving the corporate building, I ran straight into Ethan and Chloe. The entire company knew Chloe was his favorite. Seeing me, Ethan’s face darkened slightly. “Avery, if you have a report, do it later.” With that, he brushed past me with Chloe on his arm. As she passed, Chloe threw me a warning glare. I said nothing and showed up at the concert hall on time that night. The hall was packed, except for the seat next to me. Ethan’s spot was completely empty. In the past, whenever he asked me out, I would wait for him at the entrance until he arrived. This time, I didn’t wait. I went in alone and enjoyed the music. By the time the concert ended, Ethan still hadn’t shown up. I wasn’t even angry. I had already wasted five years of my life. Why care about this last bit of disappointment? Whether he knew about my resignation or not wouldn’t change my decision to leave. ***

After the concert, I didn’t go back to our house. Instead, I walked along the riverwalk. The sky was filled with a brilliant display of fireworks. But it couldn’t spark a single emotion in my heart. My phone kept buzzing. It wasn’t Ethan worrying about me. It was the local news. To celebrate “the perfect end to their anniversary weekend,” Ethan had set global social media ablaze by launching a massive firework show on his private island for Chloe. It wasn’t until midnight that I finally unlocked the front door of the house. The living room lights were on. Ethan was asleep on the couch. Was he waiting for me? In our five years together, he was always the one coming home dead drunk. I used to worry he’d choke or get hurt, calling him dozens of times. I’d prepare hangover cures early, fearing his stomach would hurt. Ethan had told me countless times he hated when I did that. His reason? It made him feel like he was getting old. My thoughts snapped back. Maybe he heard the door open, because he suddenly woke up with a start. The moment he saw me, he rushed over and pulled me into a tight embrace. “Where were you? Why didn’t you pick up my calls? Do you know I was about to call the police?!” I froze for a second, then gently pushed myself out of his grip and pulled out my phone. Only then did I realize it was completely dead. “The cold killed the battery. I didn’t get any calls.” Hearing me mention the snow, a rare flash of guilt washed over Ethan’s face. His lips pressed into a tight line. He awkwardly pulled out a thick envelope and handed it to me. I took it and opened it. Inside was the complete deed to the Fontainebleau Manor—what should have been my 100th property. I stared at it. Once upon a time, I had dreamed of the day Ethan would stand in front of me, offering me a real hug instead of another piece of real estate. But that was in the past. Now, my heart was a flatline. I calmly folded the documents and tossed them casually onto the coffee table. “Thanks.” Ethan stared at me, his handsome brow furrowing. He couldn’t seem to understand my polite indifference. “Why are you acting like…” I looked at him, slightly amused. Perhaps in his mind, I should have gasped at the sight of this multi-million-dollar estate, cried tears of joy, and forgotten all my grievances. With that thought, I forced a dry chuckle right in front of him. “Oh, I’m so thrilled. Yay.” “Are you satisfied now?” I thought Ethan would leave it at that, but my attitude seemed to spark his anger. “Avery, I only took Chloe to the island for a weekend!” “And I already gave you the Fontainebleau Manor! How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?” I wasn’t intimidated by his dark expression. I calmly plugged my phone into the charger. “You’re misunderstanding. I’m just tired.” Ethan’s face tightened. It was the first time he had ever felt such blatant indifference from me. He bit his lip, reaching out to grab my hand. But a sharp ringtone broke the silence again. It was Chloe. He looked at me, about to explain, but I spoke first. “You’re busy. No need to explain. I understand.” Seeing how “understanding” I was, Ethan looked even more bewildered. He gripped my hand tighter, desperate to figure out what had changed. But the phone kept ringing, louder and more urgent. Finally, under my calm gaze, Ethan slowly let go of my hand. “Wait for me to get back. I promise I’ll make it up to you next year.” With that, he rushed out the door. I acted as if nothing had happened. I went back to my room, pulled out the “property transfer documents” he had just signed, and turned to the very last page. The words *Divorce Agreement* were printed clearly on the white paper. I stared at his signature for a long time, then filed it away safely. That night, I had the best sleep I’d had in five years. Once the HR transition was complete, Ethan would never see me again. ***

When I arrived at the office, I walked toward my desk as usual, but Sarah pulled me back. “Avery, you’ve got trouble today.” I looked at her, confused. I had already resigned. What trouble could I possibly have? Sarah pointed ahead. I looked over and saw Chloe sitting in my chair. After Sarah’s quick explanation, I understood the situation. Today was Chloe’s first day as an official employee. When choosing her desk, she had taken a liking to mine at first glance. I walked over to her calmly. Seeing me approach, Chloe raised an eyebrow, a mocking smirk playing on her lips. “I like this spot. Find yourself another desk.” I looked at her and gave a calm nod. “Sure. Let me just pack up my things.” Though I didn’t say anything, the colleagues around us immediately assumed I was being bullied into submission by Chloe. But because of Chloe’s special connection to the boss, no one dared to speak up. They only whispered and cast sympathetic looks my way. Just as I finished packing my box and was about to leave, Ethan walked in. Chloe immediately ran to him, grabbing his arm. Ethan took the opportunity to introduce her to the team. “This is Chloe Henderson. She’ll be working with you all starting today. Please show her the ropes.” A few scattered claps echoed in the lobby. Ethan didn’t seem to mind. “Did you pick a desk?” he asked. The moment he said that, Chloe pointed directly at my old spot. “I want to sit there!” Ethan looked over and finally noticed me holding my cardboard box. His expression turned slightly uneasy. “That spot is taken. Choose another one.” Surprisingly, Ethan rejected her request. But Chloe was determined to have my spot. She clung to his arm, whining. “Ethan, I want this one. It’s closer to your office. I can see you from here.” I didn’t want to waste my time watching their little show, so I spoke up. “She can have the desk.” Since I had already resigned, a desk meant absolutely nothing to me. Seeing me back down, Chloe looked at Ethan triumphantly. “See? She gave it to me.” Ethan shot me a glance, his face turning incredibly dark for some reason. Then, he turned to Chloe, his voice dropping to a cold, firm whisper. “I said, that desk is taken. Pick another one.” Ethan, who had always spoiled her and given her everything she wanted, was snapping at her for the first time. Chloe stood there, completely stunned. The atmosphere in the room froze. Having made his decision, Ethan spared me one last look before turning on his heel and walking back to his office. Panicking, Chloe rushed after him, but not before turning back to glare at me with pure hatred. I found it almost funny. Once, I was just like Chloe, chasing after Ethan’s back. The only difference was that I chased him for five years and got 99 deeds, but never a single day of his undivided attention. As I was about to walk out, my phone buzzed with a text from Ethan. *Tomorrow at 7 PM. Westview Heights Park. I’m making up for our anniversary.* I smiled, blocked his number, and deleted his contact information. After saying goodbye to a few colleagues, I walked out of the building. With my bags already packed, I headed straight to the airport. The next day, Ethan dressed up in a sharp white suit, carrying a beautifully wrapped gift, and arrived early at Westview Heights Park.

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In my past life, I fell down the stairs and suffered a miscarriage. But even after that, I kept wearing a fake baby bump every single day, pretending I was still pregnant. I did it because, in my previous life, my sister Chloe and I went into labor on the very same day. She gave birth to a healthy baby, while I gave birth to a severely deformed child. My husband, Marcus, had pointed at me in front of everyone, screaming that I was a monster who abused drugs during my pregnancy and ruined our baby. That wasn’t all. Marcus then reported me to both our company and the police, accusing me of stealing corporate secrets. I was dragged away in handcuffs. After ten years in prison, I was finally released. I was nothing but skin and bones, broken by a decade of abuse. Meanwhile, Marcus had been promoted to CEO. He was hailed as a hero who saved the company by turning in his own “criminal” wife. He stood before me, holding my sister Chloe’s hand. “Vivian, now that it’s come to this, I won’t lie to you anymore. Chloe and I have been in love for years. The baby she carried was mine from the start.” “But her baby was born with severe defects. She couldn’t handle the trauma, so I had no choice but to swap your healthy baby with hers.” “That money we gave you bought ten years of your life. Since you have a criminal record, I’ve already divorced you. Even our son thinks you’re an embarrassment.” My own biological son had looked at me with pure disgust. “Chloe is my real mom. She’s nice to me, and she’s never been to prison. I don’t want a criminal like you for a mother!” That same day, Marcus had someone run me over with a car. But now, I am reborn. I want to see how they plan to ruin me this time—now that my baby is already gone!

Returning from the hospital to Marcus’s suburban estate, I bumped right into him. He was gently guiding my sister, Chloe, out the front door. Luckily, I had put on my fake baby bump beforehand. Neither of them noticed anything unusual. Chloe smiled sweetly when she saw me. “Vivian, you’re back! I wasn’t feeling well, so I told Marcus. He said he’d take me to his private clinic for a checkup.” “Look at him, making such a big deal out of a minor stomach ache. Marcus is so responsible. I’m sure he’ll be an amazing father when your baby is born.” In my past life, her words would have made me blush, painting a picture of a happy future raising a family with Marcus. But now, after being reborn, I only felt sick. I couldn’t believe I had ever thought this disgusting duo was kind. Their eyes locked onto my belly. There was no affection in their gaze—only greed and calculation. In my past life, I was too naive. I never noticed that Marcus, my husband, cared far more about Chloe than he did about me, his wife. When Chloe and I went into labor on the same day, I actually thought it was a beautiful blessing that we were sharing this milestone. But after I delivered a healthy baby, the child Marcus brought to my bedside was blue, gasping for air, and on the verge of death. He slapped me hard across the face in front of the doctors, accusing me of abusing illegal weight-loss drugs during my pregnancy, which supposedly caused “my baby’s” birth defects. I was in shock. I screamed that my baby had been swapped, but nobody believed me. To make matters worse, Marcus immediately reported me to the board and the police for leaking corporate secrets. Along with his report, he handed over forged documents found in our study, supposedly showing my correspondence with our top competitor. Overnight, I became a disgraced white-collar criminal. Before I could even recover from childbirth, I was taken in for interrogation and sentenced to ten years. After enduring a decade of hell, I was released, only for Marcus and Chloe to mock me with the truth. He held Chloe’s hand and my biological son’s hand, tossing a check at my feet like I was a stray dog. “Vivian, I’ll be honest. Chloe and I have been together for a long time. The child she had was mine.” “But her baby was sick. She was devastated, and I couldn’t bear to see my own blood suffer… so I swapped your baby with hers.” “This check is compensation for your ten years. We’re divorced now. Our son hates you.” Even my son sneered at me. “Chloe is my mom. She didn’t go to prison like you. You’re not my mother!” Already frail from prison life, I was literally choked to death by my own rage. Remembering my tragic end, while Marcus climbed the corporate ladder using my stolen career and lived happily ever after with Chloe, a dark fire burned in my chest. “An amazing father? We’ll see about that,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I told you I had a cold yesterday, Marcus, and you didn’t care at all. It seems you care much more about my sister than your own wife.” Marcus’s face stiffened. He quickly tried to cover it up. “Don’t be silly, Vivian. You’ve always had a strong immune system. Chloe is different. She’s been delicate since she was a kid.” “Besides, she’s your sister. She’s all alone, and the baby’s father is a deadbeat. As her brother-in-law, it’s only right that I look after her.” He sounded so noble, as if he were just being a good guy. Before leading Chloe out, Marcus turned back and added one more thing. “If you’re not feeling well, just stay in bed. Oh, and don’t take any cold medicine. It might hurt the baby.” The first sentence was filler. The second sentence was his real point. Noticing his eyes darting to my stomach again, I mumbled a quick response, turned around, and walked upstairs. Once in my room, I took some vitamins with a glass of water. What a joke. The ungrateful brat who would eventually call my enemy “mother” was already gone. Why would I care about any warnings?

That night, I used my pregnancy discomfort as an excuse to demand we sleep in separate rooms. Marcus hesitated at first. It was Chloe who convinced him, telling him that a pregnant woman needed undisturbed rest for the baby’s development. Only then did he agree. “Chloe is right. If sleeping apart is better for the baby, let’s do it.” “But Vivian, pay close attention to how you feel. If anything feels off, call me immediately.” If I didn’t already know he was just terrified that something would happen to his backup baby, I might have actually believed he cared about me. Unfortunately, it was all a lie. I hid the hatred in my eyes and nodded gently. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to take ‘good care’ of the baby.” Hearing this, Marcus finally relaxed. He knew I was a woman of my word. When we first started dating through a business merger, I had fallen head over heels for him. Believing he was a family-oriented man, I had promised to step down from my executive role to become a stay-at-home wife once we married. After the wedding, I kept my promise and put my career on hold, asking my business partner to suspend my active status at the firm. Because of this, even though my professional standing had once been higher than his, Marcus assumed I loved him blindly. He was confident he had me completely under his thumb. Over the next few weeks, I played dumb, watching him shower Chloe with undivided attention. His schedule at the office was packed, but whenever he had a free hour, he was taking Chloe to her prenatal appointments. The staff at the private clinic already assumed Marcus was Chloe’s husband. When the doctor casually mentioned that “the mother looks a bit thin,” Marcus immediately bought crates of premium prenatal supplements, insisting Chloe take them every day. But because Chloe suffered from severe morning sickness, those supplements ended up in my stomach instead. She didn’t gain a pound, but I gained some healthy weight, which gave me more energy for my daily prenatal yoga. Marcus wasn’t thrilled about this. Yet he couldn’t say anything. After all, I was his legal wife. How could a husband complain about his wife eating the food he brought home? Eventually, Marcus and Chloe became so indiscreet that even our neighbors started noticing. An older lady next door pulled me aside one afternoon. “Vivian, honey, I know you’re open-minded, but don’t be too naive. Your husband is young, successful, and handsome. Keep an eye on him. Don’t let other women get too close.” I just smiled and thanked her for the warning. Are you kidding? I wanted Marcus to focus all his energy on Chloe. Otherwise, if he ever reached out to touch my “belly” or insisted on coming to one of my doctor’s appointments, he would have instantly discovered my womb was empty. My current baby bump was just a silicone prop, which I adjusted daily to match Chloe’s size. Marcus didn’t disappoint me. As the due date neared, he still had no clue. He was just getting incredibly anxious because my “pregnancy” showed no signs of labor, causing him to break out in stress hives. Meanwhile, Chloe was having painful Braxton Hicks contractions. The doctor advised her to check into the hospital, but she was too paranoid about the plan failing. She insisted on staying at our house, watching my belly like a hawk. Two days later, Chloe couldn’t take it anymore. She cried out that she was in agony. Hearing this, Marcus immediately brought a bowl of herbal soup to my room and knocked on the door. “Vivian, my mom sent over this special herbal soup. Drink it while it’s hot. It’s good for the baby.”

I glanced at the soup. It looked like a highly concentrated brew. I took the bowl and, under Marcus’s tense gaze, set it down on the nightstand. Predictably, he panicked. “My mom had the kitchen brew this for hours. It’ll get cold. Drink it now, don’t let her kind gesture go to waste.” “Your mother? Having a kind gesture for me?” I almost laughed out loud. Marcus’s mother, Eleanor, had always disliked me. She thought I was too independent and stubborn, unlike Chloe, whom she praised for being sweet, submissive, and pleasant to be around. Her favorite phrase was: “It was my mistake not pairing Chloe with Marcus in the first place. I adore Chloe. She’s a thousand times better than that rigid Vivian.” Once we both got pregnant, Eleanor, just like Marcus, only cared about Chloe. Every organic grocery delivery and luxury baby item went straight to Chloe’s room. I didn’t get a thing. Marcus knew all of this. Remembering his mother’s blatant bias, a flicker of guilt crossed his face. But he quickly recovered. “Vivian, you know how my mom is. She has a sharp tongue but a good heart. How could she not care about our child?” “She personally ordered the kitchen to brew this for hours. Please, don’t hold a grudge against her. She is still my mother.” I didn’t argue. Pretending to be swayed by his words, I picked up the bowl and drank it all in one gulp. Marcus let out a massive sigh of relief, took the empty bowl, and walked out, thoroughly satisfied. I knew there were labor-inducing drugs in that soup. An hour later, I began fake-groaning in pain, clutching my stomach. “Ah! My stomach hurts so bad! I think the baby is coming! Marcus, get me to the hospital!” Marcus and Chloe exchanged a thrilled look. Chloe immediately clutched her own belly. “Marcus, I think my water just broke too!” “Perfect! You’re both going into labor! I’ll take you both to the hospital right now!” Marcus cried, practically vibrating with excitement as he rushed us to the car. By the time we arrived at the private clinic, Chloe’s pants were wet, and she was crying hysterically. “It hurts so much! Marcus, am I going to die?” Terrified for her, Marcus swept Chloe into his arms. He didn’t even look back at me, throwing a single sentence over his shoulder: “Chloe’s situation is more critical! I’ll take her in first. Find your own way!” I rolled my eyes at his retreating back and casually walked toward the private delivery suite I had booked. Waiting inside was the doctor Marcus had bribed. What Marcus didn’t know was that a few days ago, I had met with this same doctor and offered him triple the amount to play by my rules. I lay in the hospital bed for a few hours until my uninvited guests finally arrived. Marcus crept into my room, holding a tightly wrapped swaddled bundle. Seeing my eyes closed, he assumed I was asleep and tiptoed toward the empty crib next to my bed where “my baby” was supposed to be. But before he could swap the bundles, I spoke up. “Marcus, what are you doing?” Startled, Marcus nearly dropped the bundle in his arms. He managed to catch it, his face pale as he forced a smile. “Oh, nothing! Look, Chloe just delivered. I wanted to come check on you and our baby.” Right then, the sick baby in his arms seemed to realize he was in a new environment and began to wail weakly. Marcus’s eyes flashed. He quickly pulled back the blanket of my “baby.” But when he looked inside, his face twisted in absolute fury. “Vivian! What the hell did you do?! What kind of drugs did you take during pregnancy to ruin our child like this?!” His roar was so loud that patients and visitors in the hallway gasped and gathered around the door. Eleanor, who had just rushed to the hospital, pushed her way to the front of the crowd. The moment she saw the tiny, blue, sickly infant, she gasped in horror. “Vivian, you wicked, heartless woman! My son is a successful CEO! Our family spent so much money on your wedding! How could you do this to us?!” “You poisoned your own child just to keep your figure! How am I supposed to show my face in high society now?!” She collapsed onto the floor, wailing about how I had disgraced her family, demanding that the law punish me. Her performance was so convincing that onlookers began whispering and glaring at me with disgust. In the middle of the chaos, Chloe emerged from her room, looking pale but victorious. Seeing the crowd, a smug look flashed in her eyes before she quickly covered her mouth in mock horror. “Oh my god… Vivian’s baby… why is he so sick?” “Now that I think about it… back at the house, I always saw strange pill bottles in her vanity drawers…” She stopped, looking at me with fake fear. “I’m so sorry, Vivian. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s your private business…” Marcus immediately pulled Chloe behind him, adopting a righteous pose. “Vivian, I never thought you could be this vile! Poisoning your own child!” “And what about the company? Did you leak our proprietary data because of your unstable mental state during pregnancy? You used to be an executive—you know how critical NDAs are!” “Even if you are my wife, I will not cover for a criminal! Mom, call the corporate legal team and the police! Tell them we found the mole!” The moment the word “mole” was uttered, the crowd’s disgust turned into pure hatred. “What a parasite! Arrest her!” “Unbelievable! She doesn’t deserve a good, honest husband like Marcus!” “Throw something at her!” Someone actually threw a plastic water bottle, which bounced off my bed. Seeing me “cornered,” Chloe smirked from behind Marcus’s shoulder. But when she met my cold, steady gaze, her smile froze. She expected me to be hysterical, weeping and begging for mercy. Instead, I was just staring at her, looking right through her pathetic act. A cold dread washed over Chloe. Her eyes drifted to the swaddle in Marcus’s arms. The “healthy” baby he was holding… why hadn’t it made a sound this entire time? She grabbed Marcus’s arm, wanting to whisper to him, but a sudden commotion cut her off. Several men in business suits and two police officers walked into the room. “Corporate investigation team. Please step aside.”

The crowd parted to let them through. The lead investigator and the officers walked straight to the center of the room, looking between me and Marcus. “We received a report regarding corporate espionage and medical fraud. Who is the informant?” Marcus raised his hand eagerly. “Me! I am!” “I am reporting my wife, Vivian Vance, for abusing illegal drugs during pregnancy, causing severe birth defects, and for stealing our company’s trade secrets!” “This child, the drugs in her room, and the files at our house are all the proof you need!” The lead investigator frowned, waving his hand. “Secure the scene. Detain everyone involved for questioning.” The officers stepped forward, but instead of walking toward me, they grabbed Marcus and Chloe. Marcus went pale. “Wait! You have it wrong! I’m the one who reported her! Vivian is the criminal! Why are you detaining us?” I smirked, calmly sitting up in bed. I wiped a stray drop of water from my face and looked down at them. “Marcus, it was a solid plan. Swap your sickly baby with mine, frame me for corporate espionage, and let me take the fall for Chloe so she could walk free.” Marcus’s face turned paper-white. “You… you’re lying! You’re making things up!” “You’re the one who poisoned the baby! I’m your husband, of course I know the truth!” “Your baby is the sick one! Chloe’s baby was healthy!” “If you don’t believe me, ask the doctor!” He screamed, desperate to prove his point. The investigators hesitated. I let out a cold laugh, gesturing for Marcus’s bribed doctor to step forward. Dr. Evans had taken Marcus’s money. In my past life, he was the key witness who testified that I delivered the deformed child, presenting a fabricated toxicology report. But this time, I had gotten to him first. Under my watchful gaze, Dr. Evans trembled and spoke into the investigator’s recorder. “This sickly baby could not have been delivered by Mrs. Reynolds. I swear on my medical license. All of Mrs. Reynolds’s prenatal records show her fetus was perfectly healthy.” “In fact, Mr. Reynolds approached me earlier, offering me a bribe to claim this sick baby belonged to his wife and to falsify a toxicology report.” The room erupted into gasps. The onlookers who had been screaming at me were stunned. Who would have thought a husband could be so evil? At that moment, everyone’s eyes shifted to Chloe, who was trembling behind Marcus. Connecting the dots of what I had just said, the crowd’s murmurs turned hostile. Chloe bit her lip, cursing the doctor in her mind. Marcus was in pure panic. He knew if he admitted to this, his life was over. He pointed a shaking finger at me. “You! You paid off the doctor to lie!” “I am your husband! Why would I swap my own child and alienate myself? If I did such a thing, may God strike me down!” Hearing his pathetic vow, I almost laughed. Marcus really was shameless. “My husband? Did you ever attend a single ultrasound with me? Did you ever once touch my belly to feel the baby?” “How do you say these lies without choking?” “Why don’t you take a good look at what you’re actually holding in your arms!” The moment I said those words, Chloe’s heart dropped. She finally understood why I had been so calm. The bundle in Marcus’s arms… wasn’t a baby at all. Seeing Marcus reach for the blanket, she screamed, “No! Don’t look!”

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A blurry photo was leaked on the company’s anonymous Blind app. It showed a silhouette of our CEO, Nicholas Vance, kissing a woman under dim lighting. Nicholas’s profile was clear as day, but the woman’s face was completely hidden in the shadows. The only thing clear and blinding was the pair of blue diamond earrings on her earlobes—rumored to be worth ten million dollars. That very night, Bianca Sterling, a senior marketing manager, was spotted in the break room wearing an identical pair of earrings. The company’s WhatsApp group chat exploded. Everyone was privately congratulating Bianca on finally bagging the billionaire CEO and securing her ticket into high society. Only I knew she was posing as me. I was just an ordinary administrative assistant at the headquarters, working here for two years doing basic support tasks. This wasn’t because I lacked ability or ambition. I hid my identity and started from the bottom purely to understand the company’s operations inside out. It was just a warm-up phase before I took over my own family’s conglomerate. So, after two years, I was still an invisible nobody in the office. My manager assigned me to help coordinate some of this year’s Annual Gala, and even had me participate in some of the stage games to pad my resume. Today, one of the interactive games required me to share the stage with Bianca Sterling, the high-flying marketing manager. And Bianca was the “future boss’s wife” who wore the identical earrings. The gala was highly interactive. The host stood on stage with a mic: “Next, we’re going to play a little game! Everyone can draw a card to get their challenge task.” Since it was a corporate event, all the segments were loosely scripted. Bianca went first and drew the pre-arranged card: [Mix a drink on stage and invite a colleague or friend to taste it with you.] As soon as the task appeared, the employees below started whispering: “This was made for Bianca! She’s definitely going to invite the CEO!” “The gala is going to break the internet! If the CEO comes up, we’ll be the top trending topic tomorrow!” “Omg, I want to see Bianca and Mr. Vance show some PDA so bad!” The “Mr. Vance” they were talking about was Nicholas Vance. With his jaw-dropping good looks, ruthless business instincts, and mind-boggling wealth, he was a legend in our social circle. His “rumored romance” with Bianca started about a year ago when she “accidentally” posted a picture of herself using the same limited-edition fountain pen as Nicholas on Instagram. Over the past year, Bianca had “coincidentally” posted several other items identical to Nicholas’s personal belongings. Recently, she even secured a major project that the CEO had personally overseen. Naturally, rumors began to spread that this beautiful corporate elite had successfully captured the ultimate billionaire bachelor. The climax happened three days ago. Someone posted a blurry silhouette of a kiss on the company’s Blind forum. Nicholas’s sharp jawline was unmistakable, and the blue diamond earrings on the woman’s ears sparkled brilliantly. That same night, Bianca “carelessly” showed off her identical earrings in front of her colleagues. The office went wild. Many assumed it was the CEO’s silent way of making things official, and some had already started congratulating her in advance. But I knew it was a lie. Because the woman in that photo was me… Those earrings were mine… And that photo was taken by him on our anniversary when I leaned in to kiss him… In the original photo, my face was buried in his shoulder, smiling so hard my teeth showed. It was saved on my phone. Nicholas had cropped out the top half, leaving only our touching lips and that sparkling earlobe. I had no idea how Bianca got her hands on a replica pair of those earrings, but looking at her behavior now, it was definitely no coincidence. Holding the task card, the host asked Bianca, “Bianca, who are you planning to invite on stage? Will it be *that* special someone everyone is waiting for?” Bianca glanced at the whispering crowd, putting on a hesitant look before speaking. “Well… Nicholas is usually extremely busy. But whenever I call him, he usually makes time for me.” Her cheeks flushed with a soft pink, looking incredibly shy. “Let me give him a call.” The host, eager to stir up the crowd, played along. “Can we see what his contact name is on your phone?” Bianca showed her screen to the audience. The contact name was just one word: [Nick] A wave of giggles and excited murmurs rippled through the crowd, everyone teasing her for being so bold. Bianca smirked and dialed the number.

As a senior marketing manager, it wasn’t hard for Bianca to get the public contact info of the CEO’s office. Soon, the call went through. On the other end, a highly professional male voice answered, completely different from Nicholas’s deep, magnetic baritone. “Hi, Manager Sterling. How can I help you?” I recognized the voice. It was Arthur, Nicholas’s executive assistant. Bianca explained that she was playing a game at the Annual Gala, only to receive a formal reply: “I’m sorry, Manager Sterling. Mr. Vance is currently in an important board meeting and is unavailable to take calls.” With that, the call was disconnected. Bianca hadn’t put it on speakerphone, so only those of us on stage could faintly hear the robotic, professional rejection. But even after being rejected, her face didn’t betray her. She put on a sweet, slightly annoyed pout and complained to the host, “He’s just too busy. He’s stuck in a board meeting and can’t make it.” The crowd immediately started buzzing again: “The rumors are real! Bianca and Mr. Vance are definitely together!” “She can call the CEO’s office directly. That status is unmatched!” “Beautiful and capable, Bianca is living the dream!” The host smoothed things over. “That’s a pity. Who are you going to invite next, Bianca?” Bianca tilted her head, acting cute. “Let me think. I have too many options.” While Bianca was “thinking,” the host seized the opportunity to keep the program moving and had me draw my card. As fate would have it, I drew the exact same task. The host obviously didn’t care about a low-level admin like me. Her smile was purely polite and superficial. “So, Chloe, who are you going to invite? A colleague?” I shook my head. “No, not a colleague.” The host asked again, “A friend or family member then?” I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “May we ask who it is?” I thought about the stubborn guy at home… If I invited someone else to a stage game like this, he would definitely throw a tantrum… So, I said his name: “Nicholas Vance.” The host’s smile froze instantly. Immediately, the whispers below erupted into a loud roar, and countless mocking eyes locked onto me. “What is wrong with Chloe?” “How does she have the nerve? The CEO belongs to Bianca. Why is she inviting him?” “Is she trying to clout-chase? She must be desperate for attention!” The admin team and the planning crew standing backstage were both thrilled and stressed. Thrilled because my shocking declaration had instantly made the crowd’s attention skyrocket, making the atmosphere incredibly tense. Stressed because the gossip was getting nasty. Bianca’s loyal followers were pointing and laughing at me, and they were worried it would ruin the company’s image. Loving the drama, the host said to me, “Then, Chloe, can you show us your contact name for Mr. Vance?” I looked at the massive crowd below and shook my head reluctantly. “This number is not for public eyes.” This was Nicholas’s private personal number. It couldn’t be displayed in a place like this. The crowd erupted into loud jeers and laughter. “She’s lying through her teeth!” “How could a nobody like her have Mr. Vance’s private number? What a joke!” Only one or two reasonable voices tried to defend me. “Well, she has a point. If she showed a private number, his phone would be spammed to death…” Unfortunately, those sensible comments were quickly drowned out by the wave of mockery. Bianca’s face darkened, and she spoke in a sarcastic tone. “Some people really need to know their place. Chasing clout might get you attention, but the backlash will ruin you.” I didn’t bother to reply. I just dialed the number on my screen.

The phone rang three times. Nicholas didn’t pick up. My brows furrowed. It rang three more times, and then he declined the call. My mouth twitched. I suddenly remembered what Arthur had said earlier: “Mr. Vance is currently in an important board meeting.” Nicholas took his work very seriously. It wasn’t the first time he set his phone to “Do Not Disturb” during critical meetings, though he always called back immediately afterward. Still, being hung up on in front of everyone made me feel incredibly annoyed. Meanwhile, the crowd’s mocking reached a fever pitch. “This is hilarious! Did she really think she could get the CEO’s attention?” “What was she thinking? Why would Mr. Vance ever care about a nobody like her?” Bianca looked at me with a patronizing smirk. “Chloe probably just wanted to spice up the gala, so she played a little prank on us.” She intentionally flipped her hair, exposing her diamond earring fully to the audience. “But honestly, you don’t seem to have a sense of humor. This joke isn’t funny at all.” As she said this, the temperature on stage dropped a few degrees. The host laughed awkwardly to break the tension. “Bianca, have you decided on your guest?” Bianca nodded and looked toward the crowd. “I’ve invited an important business partner. He said he’s on his way.” The crowd showered her with compliments again. “Our Bianca’s connections are on another level!” “I wonder which handsome young billionaire it is?” The host played along, asking for the identity of this mysterious friend. Right then, my phone vibrated. I received a text from Nicholas. Nicholas: [Honey, I’m in a board meeting. Your dad is here too, so I have to behave.] My dad was a major board member. He had only found out about our relationship because of that leaked photo, and he had hauled Nicholas in for a stern talk that very day. In the end, he reluctantly accepted our relationship. Last night, Nicholas was still whining to me at home, saying my dad had grumbled about him giving me his late mother’s heirloom but still not giving me a public confession. My dad said it was unacceptable. Back then, Nicholas had wrapped his arms around me, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. He kept insisting that since my father had given the green light, we should go public. I finally gave in under his relentless pleading. And then, this perfect opportunity fell right into our laps. Thinking about how he just hung up on me and made me lose face, I didn’t really want to reply nicely. I simply texted him the details of the gala task and gave him an ultimatum: [This is our best shot to go public. If you miss it, we’ll have to wait. Your choice.] This time, his reply was instant: [I’m on my way.]

With our guests confirmed, Bianca and I needed to choose the liquor base and ingredients for our drinks. I quietly made my selection, while Bianca kept chatting with the host. Amidst the host’s constant flattery, Bianca finally revealed her guest’s identity. “It’s Brandon, the son of the Hayes family. Our families go way back.” She looked at the audience. “He’s a mutual friend of Nicholas and me. Many of our custom outfits for formal events are tailored by his family’s luxury brand.” The crowd went wild. “I heard the Hayes family is a long-time partner of the Vance family!” “She called him ‘Nicholas’ so naturally. That’s so intimate!” “She really is the future lady of the Vance family. Her connection with Mr. Vance is undeniable.” I glanced at Bianca. The smug smile on her face was starting to get on my nerves. The “Brandon” she spoke of was a client she had desperately tried to keep. In reality, the true mastermind of the Hayes family business was his self-made father, not Brandon. The brand only grew this big because they secured crucial investments from Vance Enterprises due to their stable partnership. Bianca called him “Brandon Hayes,” but Brandon actually hated his full name, to the point where some new hires thought he grew up abroad and only went by his first name. As the crowd gossiped excitedly, the host turned to look at me, who was waiting quietly on the side. By this point, I understood the game. This segment was designed to compare me and Bianca, using a dramatic contrast to create drama and hype up the gala. The host smirked and asked me, “Chloe, since you couldn’t get Mr. Vance to come, did you manage to invite anyone else?” She walked over, pretending to be helpful. “If you don’t have any friends available, you can always invite a colleague, you know.” Following her words, the crowd began mockingly whispering again. “She has zero friends. No one likes her.” “She was bragging about inviting the CEO, and now she’s left high and dry.” “Just a low-level clerk. How could she know anyone important?” I sliced my lemons, not even looking up. “Who said Nicholas Vance isn’t coming?” The host froze, completely shocked. She looked back at the event planners, thinking this was a scripted surprise. She played along: “So, Mr. Vance is really coming?” “Just wait and see,” I said, looking up to give her a calm smile. The host looked like she was ready for some drama, while Bianca looked absolutely furious. Bianca glared at me coldly. “Honesty is a very precious virtue, Chloe. I hope everyone can possess it.” Meanwhile, the whispers below turned into outright shouting. “Is this Chloe girl out of her mind?” “Bianca already said Mr. Vance is in a board meeting! What is wrong with her?” “Ugh, this delusional girl is so annoying. How does she even work here?” I felt a bit helpless looking at the crowd, so I just focused on prepping my ingredients. My silence only made the crowd bolder. “Is Bianca mad?” “Honestly, even if Mr. Vance does show up, he’ll be here for Bianca. He’ll expose this fake girl right on the spot!” I ignored the voices and ignored Bianca’s glaring face. Whatever. Nicholas would be here in thirty minutes anyway. Everyone would find out who the real clown was. I started mixing my drink. As I layered the liquors and juices in a specific order, the host noticed something and gasped, “Oh! Bianca and Chloe are both making the ‘Sunset Bay’! What a coincidence!” Bianca said coldly to the crowd, “The ‘Sunset Bay’ is Nicholas’s favorite cocktail. It’s also my specialty.” She was clearly implying that I was copying her.

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My crush from high school just became my stepbrother. I thought we were over, a forbidden love that would never happen. That was until he gave me a plush doll that looked exactly like him. I thought it was just a cute coincidence. But then, a row of glowing, floating comments drifted across my vision. [Hehe, our sweet girl still has no idea this is the male lead’s sensory doll, does she?] [I heard that whatever she does to this doll, he will feel it for real. Is that true?] [Totally true! He gave her this doll just so she would cuddle him! There are so many naughty tricks waiting for them later!] I froze. Slowly, I looked down and kissed the doll’s soft ear. The next second, my stepbrother, sitting right across from me, flushed bright red. The first time I saw Ethan Vance was during the pep rally of my freshman year. He was a sophomore then, the star player of the varsity basketball team. I was being shoved around by the crowd at the edge of the court. After sinking a perfect three-pointer, he turned his head and looked right into my eyes. Then, he smiled. That single glance lived rent-free in my head for an entire year. So, when my mom told me she was remarrying and that her new husband had a son, I never in a million years expected it to be Ethan. On my first day moving into the Vance mansion, he stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. My palms were sweating. I was terrified he would recognize me—and equally terrified he wouldn’t. In the end, he just said, “You’re here?” It was as if we weren’t meeting for the first time. As if we had been family for a long time. Even so, I never stopped loving him. I just buried my feelings deep down in my heart. As long as I could be near him, it was enough. But lately, I felt like the way he looked at me was getting stranger. Then came Christmas Eve. Our parents had gone out to a gala, leaving only Ethan and me at home. The Christmas tree in the living room flickered with warm yellow lights. I was curled up on the couch scrolling through TikTok when I saw him coming downstairs. In his hand was a beautifully wrapped gift box. “For you,” he said, handing it over. His tone was casual, but the tips of his ears were slightly pink. What was it? Ethan, a guy who usually spoke in one-word sentences, had actually wrapped a gift himself? Filled with curiosity, I opened the box. A creamy-white plush doll was lying inside. It had a tiny red bow tied around its neck. Suddenly, a row of floating comments flashed before my eyes. [Hehe, our sweet girl still has no idea this is the male lead’s sensory doll, does she?] [I heard that whatever she does to this doll, he will feel it for real. Is that true?] [Totally true! He gave her this doll just so she would cuddle him! There are so many naughty tricks waiting for them later!] I stared at the doll, completely paralyzed. Did I stay up too late watching Netflix and start having hallucinations? Weren’t sensory-link dolls something only found in fantasy web novels? Ethan’s voice broke the silence. “You don’t like it?” [Oh no, our male lead looks like he’s about to shatter into pieces.] [What if my girl doesn’t like my gift? That’s literally bound to my physical senses!] [Chloe, nod your head, please!!!] [Don’t be fooled by his blank face. He’s clenching his fists so hard his knuckles are turning white.] “I love it,” I said. To test the theory, I reached out. It was just a plush toy. Yet, for some reason, my heart started racing. “Wait—” Before Ethan could finish his sentence, I pulled the doll into my arms and leaned down to kiss its ear. When I looked up, Ethan’s entire face was burning red. A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. “Thanks, Ethan. I really, really like this doll.” [Omg!!! One kiss and he’s already losing his mind!] [Blushing like that from a simple kiss on the ear? Is he really this pure?] [Oh my god, this is so cute. Chloe, go get him! Give us some spice!] [Wait, is he getting hard?] My sharp eyes caught Ethan clenching his jaw. Was he trying his best to hold it in? “As long as you like it. Take good care of it.” I nodded, holding back a laugh.

That night, I climbed into bed and held the doll tightly against my chest. The comments started floating by again. [Hehehe, Ethan’s face must be burning again because Chloe is cuddling him!] [He gets turned on just by a hug? He has zero self-control. I’m worried for Chloe’s future waist.] [Wait, the doll doesn’t have *that* part, does it? Does that mean we won’t get any smut yet?] [But if she touches that spot, he’ll still feel it, right? Wait, is Chloe reaching down?] I didn’t expect this doll to be so much fun. I sat up, pretending to inspect the doll. I slipped off its tiny clothes. Then, I pinched the doll’s little hands. I squeezed its waist. Finally, my fingers slowly traced down, lightly brushing the area between the doll’s chubby legs. [Ahhhhh! Did Ethan just make a sound in his room?!] [Oh my god, Chloe, you are a natural!] [Holy crap, Ethan lying in his bed right now must look so hot. He’s a basketball player, those abs… those thighs…] Picturing him in my head, I suddenly felt a wave of heat rushing through my own body. I didn’t push it any further. I just gave the doll a good massage, dressed it back up, and hugged it close as I fell asleep. Ever since I discovered the doll was connected to Ethan’s senses, I took it everywhere with me. And I let absolutely no one touch it. Until one day after school. I was waiting for Ethan so we could walk home together. Suddenly, a hand snatched the doll right out of my arms. It was Brooke Ashley, the senior girl I hated the most. “Pfft, a high schooler still playing with baby toys? How pathetic.” I turned around and saw her violently grabbing the doll by its hair. My heart stopped. This doll was connected to Ethan! How could she treat it so roughly?! [Relax, our male lead is smart. The doll is only bound to Chloe. Even if he touches it himself, he feels nothing.] [Exactly! He knew other people might touch it, so he locked the sensory link to Chloe only.] [But Chloe looks like she’s about to cry, my poor baby~] “Give it back!” I snapped. Knowing the truth from the comments made me feel a bit relieved, but I was still furious. I wanted to snatch it back, but I was afraid she would rip it. What if she actually hurt Ethan? “Wow, you care about this cheap toy that much?” Brooke examined the doll closely. “Wait, it kind of looks like Ethan Vance…” “You carry a doll that looks like Ethan every day. Don’t tell me you have a creepy crush on your own stepbrother?” She raised her voice on purpose. Passersby started to stop and stare. My face flushed a deep crimson. “Shut up! You’re making things up!” Suddenly, Ethan’s cold voice cut through the air from behind us. “What are you guys talking about?” [Ahhh, Chloe, you tease! You hugged him to sleep every night, making him unable to sleep, and now you’re acting shy!] [He looks devastated. His hands are literally shaking.] [Oh lord, he is extremely possessive. Chloe, watch out, you’re going to get wrecked in bed later.] [Hehe, I am so ready for that!] I turned around. Ethan’s face was as dark as a thunderstorm. Oh, he was mad. Brooke spoke first, her voice turning instantly sweet and victimized. “Ethan, I just wanted to look at her doll, and she got so aggressive with me.” Seriously? She was playing the victim now? Before I could speak, Ethan let out a cold laugh. “That belongs to her. Did you ask for permission before grabbing it?” “Brooke, you’re a senior. Since when did you lose your basic manners?” “Give it back to her. Now.” Brooke bit her lip, reluctantly handing the doll over. I didn’t reach for it. “Clean it first, Brooke. Then put it back in my bag.” “It’s a Christmas gift from my brother. It’s very precious to me.” Brooke’s face flushed. She whispered, “Chloe, don’t push it…” “Pushing it?” Ethan stepped in, his voice cold enough to freeze water. “You took my sister’s stuff while I wasn’t around, and you’re calling her difficult?” He took one step forward. Just one step, and Brooke stumbled back two. “Brooke, do you really think I don’t know the things you’ve been doing behind my back?” Brooke’s face went pale. I didn’t know what Ethan was referring to, but judging by her expression, it was bad. The surrounding students started whispering. Biting her tongue, Brooke pulled out a wet wipe, meticulously cleaned the doll, and placed it back in my backpack. Before leaving, she gave me a murderous glare. I just smiled back, then turned to Ethan. “Thanks, Ethan. Don’t worry, I will take good care of your doll. I’ll keep it close to me at all times and won’t let anyone else touch it.” He stared deep into my eyes. The tips of his ears turned red again. Without another word, he turned and walked away. Watching his retreating back, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Why are you running, Ethan? I’m not going to eat you. —At least, not yet. [Chloe is so teasing! Our male lead is suffering so much.] [Chloe doesn’t know he likes her back, she thinks she’s just teasing her brother.] [When is the confession? I want to see the spicy scenes now!]

That night, because the doll had been touched by Brooke, I wanted to give it a wash. But I was worried that washing it would do something weird to Ethan. [The male lead is in the shower right now!!!] [Oh my god, his body is insane! Six-pack, broad shoulders, but the camera is blurred below the waist, damn it!] [We can easily picture it. No one doubts the size of a smut novel male lead!] [Wow, he’s washing himself so thoroughly. I’m blushing just looking at him.] So he was taking a shower? Perfect. I stripped the doll naked and brought it into the bathroom with me. The next second, the comments went wild. [Ahhhhh! That was so sudden, his knees literally went weak! He almost slipped in the shower, thank god he held onto the wall!] [Holy crap, Chloe, what are you doing? Do more!] [His face is so red. I feel like he’s about to burst into her room right now!] [Chloe, your timing is impeccable!] I smiled and used my palms to gently soap and scrub the doll’s little butt. [Oh my god, so he’s not just taking a shower anymore?] [His face is always so stoic, we couldn’t even tell he was holding back so much pleasure!] [I can’t wait to see if he keeps that cold face when they finally make out…] “I like you so much,” I whispered to the doll. Then, I rinsed it and held it tight against my bare chest. [Wait, is Chloe pressing the doll against her boobs?!] [He definitely felt that! Don’t let him pass out from pleasure before they even confess!] [I think he’s reached his limit!] Just as I stepped out of the bathroom, I heard a knock on my bedroom door. Ethan’s voice came through, thick and strained. “What are you doing in there?” What do you think, baby? You already know. “Just took a shower~” I replied playfully. “Go to sleep,” he said coldly. “We have school tomorrow. If you don’t sleep now, you won’t be able to wake up.” A threat? Please. I gently pinched the doll’s ear. I heard a sharp intake of breath from outside the door. “Are you… playing with that doll right now?” “Yeah.” Silence stretched outside the door. “Be gentle with him,” Ethan finally said, his voice husky. “The doll is… very sensitive. It breaks easily.” [Why do I feel like he’s not talking about the doll?] [He wants her to cherish *him*. Too bad he hasn’t confessed yet, how is Chloe supposed to know~] [Wait, Chloe’s blushing. Why?] [Actually, I feel like Chloe knows more than she lets on…] “I get it. I’ll take good care of the… gift you gave me.” Knowing his feelings, I purposely made my voice sound sweet and clingy. Ethan’s voice softened significantly. “Okay. Goodnight then.” “Goodnight, Ethan.” [Chloe is so cute, I want to kiss her!] [This is too sweet, he’s definitely pitching a tent again!] [Our male lead has no self-control. He’s going to be wrapped around her finger forever.] [Skip to the good part, please!] [Classic smut male lead. Here he goes again.] [Chloe, kiss the doll! Please!] I wanted to tease him more, but decided to hold back. I hugged the doll and lay down. I don’t know if it was just my imagination, but the doll felt unusually warm.

The next day was the high school basketball championship. The court was packed. I went to watch Ethan play. Holding the doll, I found a quiet corner in the bleachers. Ethan looked incredibly hot on the court. Sweat dripped down his sharp jawline, his jersey clinging to his back, outlining his muscular frame. When he jumped to shoot, his arm muscles tensed, and the ball traced a perfect arc through the air— Swish. Nothing but net. The crowd erupted. The buzzer sounded. Game over. Ethan’s team won. He bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. He was drenched in sweat, radiating pure heat. Just then, a figure pushed past me. Brooke was running toward him with a cold bottle of water. “Ethan! Drink some water!” She ran so fast that right before she reached him, she tripped over nothing— And fell straight toward his chest. [Ugh, this cliché b*tch again!] [That fake fall was so obvious, oh my god!] [Did he catch her? Please tell me he didn’t!] [Chloe, what are you doing? Go mark your territory!] My heart jumped into my throat. But— Ethan took a swift step aside, completely dodging her. Brooke hit empty air, stumbling a few steps before catching her balance. Her face was a mix of embarrassment and anger. “Ethan! I almost fell, and you didn’t even catch me?” Ethan stood up straight and looked at her coldly. “You seem to be standing just fine.” Brooke bit her lip and offered the water again. “Just take the water. You must be thirsty.” “No thanks, I brought my own.” He walked over to the bench, picked up his own hydro flask, and took a swig. Brooke stood there frozen, her hand holding the bottle mid-air. A few students nearby started snickering. [HAHAHAHA, I’m dead!] [Good job, Ethan!] [Her face turned literally green!] [Chloe, your turn! Go!] I took a deep breath, held the doll, and walked over to him. “Ethan.” He turned, blinking in surprise. “Chloe? What are you doing here?” I lifted the doll and tapped his arm with it. “Brought you some water.” He looked down, a small smile finally breaking on his face. “Water? Where is it?” I pulled a bottle of room-temperature water from my bag. “Here.” Without a second thought, he snatched it, opened it, and drank half of it. Brooke’s expression grew even uglier. “Ethan, didn’t you say you brought your own water?” Ethan capped the bottle and said indifferently: “My sister brought this. It’s different.” [Ahhhhh, I’m screaming!] [He knows exactly what to say!] [Chloe wins this round!] [Brooke’s face must be burning so hard right now, lmao!] My cheeks felt hot. I quickly looked down to organize my bag. Ethan reached out and ruffled my hair. “Let’s go. I’ll buy you dinner.” “Oh… okay.” I followed him. As we passed Brooke, she glared at me like she wanted to kill me. I just flashed her a sweet smile. Sorry, sweetie. I won this round.

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1 When my adoptive sister first beat me badly enough to send me to the hospital, I was only five years old. That was the day a floating golden screen first flickered to life before my eyes: [CONGRATULATIONS, HOST. YOU ARE NOW BOUND TO THE SYSTEM. COMPLETE MISSIONS TO EARN POINTS AND EXCHANGE THEM FOR ANYTHING YOU DESIRE.] From that day on, I followed the system’s demands. I accepted the lie my family drilled into me: that we owed Tabitha our lives. I let her kick me out of my bedroom, let her tear up my school certificates, and stayed quiet. I deliberately played dumb in front of my teachers and told my relatives my grades were terrible, terrified of overshadowing her. I even pushed away my childhood friend, Stefan, watching in silence as he grew closer and closer to her. Until last week, when the system issued its final, ultimate mission: [YOUR SAT SCORE MUST NOT EXCEED YOUR ADOPTIVE SISTER’S.] I spent three grueling months calculating, studying just enough to score exactly two points lower than her. When the system flashed green with the words Mission Accomplished, I was so overwhelmed I nearly cried. I couldn’t wait to redeem my points for the ultimate reward: my freedom, a chance to escape this house forever. Instead, my older brother, Joshua, walked out of his study holding a small black remote control. He pressed a button, and the golden interface floating in my vision flickered once, then went completely dark. That was the moment I realized there was no system. There were no magic missions. It was an AR chip, a piece of high-tech cruelty Joshua had spent years perfecting, implanted in my head while I lay unconscious in the hospital at five years old. Every single “mission” was just a command he typed into his computer. All the suffering, all the years of playing the fool, was just a sick game he played to make me willingly pay back our family’s “debt” to his beloved adoptive sister. Joshua smiled, patting my shoulder. “Tomorrow is your sister’s Ivy League celebration banquet. Once that’s over, my debt to her is paid. I’ll take you to the clinic to have the chip removed.” I looked at him and smiled back. The system was a lie. But my life didn’t have to be. If they wouldn’t let me go, I would escape on my own. “Fiona, don’t you dare throw a tantrum at your sister’s dinner tomorrow.” Joshua casually tossed the black remote into a desk drawer, locked it, and pulled out the key. The movement was so smooth, so practiced, he must have done it a thousand times. The golden screen in my eyes was gone. For thirteen years, the “system” that forced me to fetch water for Tabitha, ordered me to tank my tests, and demanded I hand my achievements to her, had died inside a cheap plastic remote. I stared at him. “Joshua.” “What?” he asked, adjusting his collar in the mirror, his tone completely indifferent. “For thirteen years, you watched me talking to empty air. You watched me punish myself when I couldn’t complete those fake missions.” I paused, my voice barely a whisper. “Did you find it funny?” Joshua frowned, his brows knitting together. “Watch your mouth. Funny? If I hadn’t come up with that, would you have ever stepped aside for Tabitha? Her father died saving our dad. Our family owes her a life. You’ve been stubborn since you were a kid. If I didn’t trick you with a ‘system,’ would you have ever been this obedient?” He stepped closer, reaching out to pat my head. I flinched away. His hand froze in mid-air, and his expression hardened. “Fiona, don’t be ungrateful. I only did this to protect our family’s honor. Your sister got into Yale. We’ve done right by her father’s memory. Once the banquet is over tomorrow, I’ll take you to the clinic to get the chip out. After that, you can do whatever the hell you want. I won’t stop you.” Whatever I want. I was eighteen. The early-admission offers I had to decline, the ripped-up Math Olympiad awards, the condescending glares from teachers who thought I was a lost cause, the childhood best friend he had pushed into Tabitha’s arms… could removing a chip ever give those back to me? Tabitha walked down the stairs, wearing a freshly tailored white designer suit and holding an iced americano. Her hair was perfectly styled, and she practically glowed with the smug satisfaction of a victor. “Joshua, don’t be mad at Fiona. Her SAT scores were barely enough for a community college. It’s only natural she’s bitter.” She stopped in front of me, looking down her nose. “Fiona, I know you feel like life is unfair. But some people are just born to win. Your brain isn’t as sharp as mine, and that’s okay. If you ever struggle to make ends meet, just come to me.” She took a sip of her coffee, offering a condescending smile. “I’m going to run the family company eventually. I can always hire you as my assistant. I’ll even pay you double. I’ll make sure you’re looked after.” The girl who had stolen my resources, hijacked my life, and was now preparing to take over my family’s company, was talking about “looking after me.” Joshua looked at her, his eyes filled with pride. “Look at how mature your sister is. And then look at you, moping around like the world owes you something. Aren’t you going to thank her?” I looked at Tabitha. Her eyes were alight with malicious triumph. Of course she was thrilled. For thirteen years, no matter how hard I worked, the “system” would force me to ruin my own success. She was used to stepping on my head to reach the stage. “No thanks,” I said, turning toward the door. “Where are you going?” Joshua yelled behind me. “To my room. To pack.” “Wake up early tomorrow! And wear that old grey coat. Don’t you dare try to steal your sister’s spotlight!” I locked my bedroom door, pulling a dusty suitcase out from under my bed. My phone buzzed. A text from Stefan. Fiona, don’t act like a mute wallflower at Tabitha’s dinner tomorrow. Smile more, try to be supportive. She doesn’t have her real parents, and this day is huge for her. You already have everything, so just let her have this. I stared at the words you already have everything. What did I have? A chip in my skull that could shock my brain at any moment? A brother who treated me like a sacrificial lamb to pay his debts? An adoptive sister who had bled me dry for over a decade? I typed back: How exactly do you want me to support her? Stefan replied instantly. There will be a lot of family friends there. If they ask about your scores, just be honest and admit you didn’t do well. Don’t look so victimized, like Tabitha stole something from you. Fiona, a girl needs to have some grace. I stared at the text, a heavy exhaustion settling over me. Thirteen years as childhood friends. Because of the fake “system missions,” I had pushed him away, driving him toward Tabitha. I used to think he would see through it, that he would ask questions. But he didn’t. He happily ran to her side and now had the nerve to lecture me on grace. I didn’t reply. I tossed the phone onto my bed and unzipped the hidden compartment of my suitcase. Lying inside was a folder: a flight confirmation from Chicago to Boston, and a full-ride scholarship admission letter to MIT. They thought I had ruined my life just to satisfy a fake SAT score cap. What they didn’t know was that the crude chip in my head could only track domestic, standardized tests. It had no access to the international science competitions, the independent research, or the private AP exams I had stayed up past midnight to complete under my covers. I ran my fingers over the gold-embossed letters of the MIT letter. Tomorrow was indeed a great day. Perfect for a celebration, and perfect for leaving them forever. 2 The next morning, Joshua pushed my door open before I had even finished brushing my teeth. He threw a pile of fabric onto my bed. “Put this on.” I looked down. It was a faded, grey coat with frayed cuffs. “This is from my freshman year of high school.” “I know,” Joshua said, checking his watch impatiently. “Today is Tabitha’s day. If you dress up, the relatives will start comparing the two of you again. You failed your exams anyway, so there’s no point in wearing anything nice. Just wear this and keep your head down.” Keep your head down. For thirteen years, those were the only words he had for me. I didn’t argue. I pulled the coat on, but as I zipped it up, the tight fabric cut painfully into my shoulders. I had grown nearly four inches since freshman year. The sleeves were laughably short, making me look like a pathetic clown. Joshua glanced at me and frowned, but he didn’t say a word. “Alright, let’s go. Stefan is downstairs.” Stefan was sitting on the sofa, wearing a pastel pink linen shirt and a delicate silver chain around his neck. That chain was a birthday gift I had saved my allowance for an entire year to buy him. Sitting right next to him was Tabitha, looking sleek in her custom white suit. On her wrist was a gleaming Rolex Submariner. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, my eyes locking onto the watch. Stefan noticed my gaze and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “The watch…” “Stefan got it for me as a congratulatory gift,” Tabitha said, flaunting her wrist with a smirk. “Pretty, right? Fiona, you always did have great taste. This watch is absolutely perfect for me.” My taste. Just before our senior year, Stefan and I had walked past a boutique window, and I had stared at that exact watch. Stefan had laughed and said, Once you get into a top school, I’ll save up and buy it for your graduation. But the system had forced me to leave my practice exams blank. Stefan had been disgusted by my “laziness.” In the end, the watch went to Tabitha. “You bought that for her?” I asked, looking directly at Stefan. Stefan stood up, walking over to me. “Fiona, don’t look at me like that. Tabitha is the state’s top AP scholar. She worked incredibly hard for this, she earned it.” “But you promised it to me.” “With the scores you got, how could I possibly justify giving it to you?” He spoke with absolute conviction. “Besides, Tabitha grew up as an orphan. She never had anything nice. You’ve had a privileged life, Fiona. It’s just a watch. Do you really have to be this petty?” Just a watch. A privileged life. When Tabitha first came to our house at five years old, she had demanded my limited-edition Lego set. When I refused, she pushed me down the stairs. My head slammed into the coffee table, requiring six stitches. When I woke up in the hospital, Joshua was crying, begging me to forgive her. And then, the golden screen flashed in my eyes: [MISSION: GIVE THE LEGO SET TO TABITHA AND APOLOGIZE TO HER.] When I fought back, the chip in my skull released a sharp electrical current, making me convulse in pain on the hospital bed. Joshua had stood by, watching me shiver with a cold, detached gaze, until I screamed that I would do it. That was the day I learned what my “privileged life” actually meant. It meant having no basic human rights. “You’re right,” I said, my voice dead calm. “It’s just a watch. It suits her perfectly.” Stefan blinked, clearly surprised by my lack of an argument. Usually, I would plead or cry, only to be branded as a spoiled brat. “I’m glad you see it that way,” he sighed, his posture relaxing. “Today is a happy day. Don’t ruin it for everyone.” The doorbell rang. A courier stood outside. “Delivery for Fiona. International express, needs a signature.” I walked over and signed the screen, taking a thin cardboard document envelope. Tabitha sauntered over, peering at the label. “International express? Fiona, don’t tell me you applied to some sketchy, unaccredited offshore college because you couldn’t get in anywhere else?” She snickered. “Joshua, don’t waste your money funding her. Those online degrees are worthless anyway. She’d be better off working in our family warehouse.” Joshua didn’t even glance at the envelope. “Fiona, stop wasting your time with nonsense. If you failed, you failed. Our family can afford to feed you, but don’t embarrass me today. Put that trash in your room and get in the car.” I gripped the cardboard envelope, my knuckles turning white. “Alright.” I walked back to my room, slid the envelope into the deepest pocket of my suitcase, and zipped it shut. I didn’t tell them it was my official scholarship confirmation. The tight grey coat dug painfully into my shoulders. But it didn’t matter. It was the last time I would ever wear it. The ride to the restaurant was lively. Joshua sat in the passenger seat while Tabitha and Stefan sat in the back, laughing together. I was squeezed against the far right door, forgotten. “Stefan, the local newspapers are going to be there today. Do you have your speech ready?” Tabitha handed him a bottle of water, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Just a few words,” Stefan replied, opening the bottle for her. “We really need to thank Joshua for everything he did to help you get here.” Joshua chuckled from the front. “Tabitha is a good kid. Not like some people who only know how to pout after eighteen years of being taken care of.” Everyone in the car knew exactly who he was talking about. I kept my face pressed against the window, watching the city lights blur in the rain. Stefan nudged my arm. “Fiona, why are you so quiet?” “What is there to say?” “Congratulate your sister. She did amazing. It brings honor to your family.” I turned to look at his handsome face. “Stefan.” “Yeah?” “When did you find out about the chip in my head?” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. Stefan’s body went completely rigid. The plastic water bottle in his hand crinkled sharply. “What… what are you talking about? What chip?” His eyes darted away, refusing to meet mine. Watching his reaction, the very last shred of hope I had for him withered away. “Joshua used to adjust the settings on his computer in the study. You saw him do it, didn’t you?” I asked quietly. “In fact, those times the ‘system’ ordered me to stay away from you… it was because you complained to Joshua that I was being annoying, and he changed the program.” Stefan’s face drained of color. He bit his lip, staring at his knees for a long time. In the front, Joshua and Tabitha were still arguing over the dinner menu, completely oblivious to us. “Yes, I knew,” Stefan whispered. “But I didn’t mean any harm.” He looked at me, a defensive, almost victimized expression in his eyes. “Fiona, you have to understand Joshua. You were always so competitive, always trying to overshadow Tabitha. But she was an orphan, she had nothing but her pride. Joshua only used the system to help you learn some humility.” I stared at him, unable to comprehend his cruelty. “To teach me humility? So it was perfectly fine to shock my brain with electric currents? It was fine to force me to play the idiot while the entire school mocked me?” “It was just a mild current! Joshua swore it wouldn’t cause any permanent brain damage!” Stefan hissed desperately. “And honestly, even without the chip, do you really think you could have beaten Tabitha? She’s smarter than you, Fiona. The chip actually gave you an excuse. It let you blame your failures on ‘system missions’ instead of your own lack of talent. It saved your pride.” It saved my pride. I looked at the face of the boy I had loved for ten years, feeling a sudden, violent wave of nausea. He knew about the physical agony. He just believed Tabitha’s fragile ego was worth more than my entire life.

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1 “Do you really think getting pregnant is enough to buy your way into the Lyndon family? Plenty of women would kill to carry my child.” The sneer was still half-formed on my lips when my alcohol-addled brain suddenly snapped awake. Looking at the positive pregnancy test in my hand, then at the tear-stained, heartbroken face of the strange woman sitting across from me, I fell into a stunned silence. Where the hell am I? A crisp, electronic voice chimed inside my head: [Welcome to the Scumbag Reformation Program. You have been selected as the ultimate good guy. Your mission: Rescue your girlfriend, Jacquelynn, prevent her suicide, and give her a warm, loving home.] A flood of memories that did not belong to me rushed into my brain. I desperately needed to sort through this mental library and figure out what the hell was going on. Staring at the utterly defeated woman in front of me, my chest tightened. “Wait for me here. I need to use the restroom.” I turned and walked away. I did not even catch the light dying in her eyes behind me. Of course, she thought she was being abandoned again. She thought her boyfriend did not care about her or their baby. I rushed to the restroom. The face reflecting in the mirror was identical to my old one, with sharp brows and deep-set eyes, strikingly handsome, except there was a lingering trace of cruelty in this body’s expression. I had transmigrated into a system-maintained world. The female protagonist’s death had caused a temporal glitch, and I was chosen to patch the timeline. I took a deep breath. They picked the right guy. I could not stand hurting women. As I dug deeper into the host’s memories, I could not help but curse out loud. This guy was an absolute scumbag. The host was also named Tristan. He was a notorious trust-fund playboy in high-society circles, the only heir to the Lyndon empire. His father had never played around or had illegitimate kids, so Tristan’s inheritance was set in stone. To make matters worse, his mother had passed away years ago. His father, who had loved his late wife dearly, spoiled his only son rotten. Under such relentless indulgence, Tristan had grown into a textbook rich brat. He could get anything he wanted. But Jacquelynn, the campus sweetheart of Hudson University, was a rare, untouchable beauty. After his initial pursuits failed, his competitive streak kicked in. It took a year of relentless pursuit to finally win her over. The first year was pure bliss. But after Jacquelynn graduated, Tristan pressured her into giving up her dreams of graduate school. He wanted her kept like a pet, a caged songbird in his penthouse. From then on, Jacquelynn’s world shrunk until it only spun around him. Her gentle, introverted nature morphed into a fragile, timid insecurity. But instead of cherishing her, the scumbag grew bored of her compliance and started looking for cheap thrills elsewhere. Jacquelynn was an orphan. The massive wealth gap between them had already made her deeply insecure. Sensitive and quiet, she would only hide away and weep silently, never raising her voice at him. Meanwhile, Tristan stayed out all night, subjected her to emotional abuse and gaslighting, and let the tabloids run wild with his flings. Piece by piece, she fell into deep depression. Yet, she clung to the promise he once made, that he would give her a real home. Every time she fell into despair, she would remember that promise and hope again. Until today, when she showed him the positive pregnancy test. He had spat out the most venomous words imaginable. “Do you really think getting pregnant is enough to buy your way into the Lyndon family?” “Who even knows if it is mine? But hey, if you want to keep it, the Lyndon family can afford a bastard child.” Those cruel words broke her completely. After getting a quiet abortion, she returned to her dingy rented room, saw a headline about the Lyndon heir entering a hotel with some actress, and hanged herself. It was only after her death that the scumbag felt a shred of regret. Realizing she was the only one he ever loved, he drowned his sorrows in alcohol, found a waitress who looked like her as a substitute, and dragged himself through another toxic relationship before dying lonely amidst his cold mountain of cash. What an absolute psycho. Fortunately, I had arrived just in time to cut off the rest of those horrible words. But before I could even catch my breath, the system sounded an alarm. [Warning, Host! Jacquelynn is heading to the hospital right now for an abortion!] “Why is she being so reckless? What if she hurts herself?” I bolted out of the restroom. Guided by the system’s GPS tracker, I found Jacquelynn just as she was standing at the clinic’s billing counter. “Jacquelynn!” The familiar voice made her stiffen. She turned around slowly, her eyes wide with disbelief. She seemed to catch a glimpse of genuine panic and sorrow in my eyes. She must be imagining things. Why would I ever worry about her? I snatched the consent form from her trembling hands. Seeing the scheduled surgical abortion, my eyes stung with sudden heat. “Do you really care so little about our baby? Do you even care about me at all?” “Are you really this desperate to get rid of our child just so you can run off with your precious college mentor?” My sudden attack of reverse-psychology left Jacquelynn completely dazed. “What… what are you talking about?” “I give up,” I said, my voice cracking as I pulled her fragile frame into my arms, burying my face in the crook of her neck. A wave of raw emotion hit my throat. “I admit it. Every girl I brought around, every rumor… it was all an act. I just wanted to see if you actually cared. But you never said a word. You never asked. I wanted you to scream at me, to throw a tantrum, just so I’d know you still loved me!” I held her tighter, letting my voice tremble. “I surrender. Even if you do not love me, just stay with me. Let’s get married. Please.” The system could not help but chime in: [Damn, Host. You are a natural at gaslighting.] I did not have a choice. The host had crossed too many lines. Jacquelynn was the type to bottle up her pain, drowning in her own insecurities. Only a fierce, overwhelming confession could shatter her walls and give her a sense of security. A single tear slipped down her hair, dampening her collarbone. The warmth of it seemed to seep straight into her chest, filling her with a heavy, aching confusion. If what I said was true, then what were all those cold nights she endured? And what was this about her mentor? Before she could process any of it, I took her by the hand, led her out of the hospital, and buckled her into the passenger seat of my car. Jacquelynn finally blinked back her confusion. “Where are we going?” “To the courthouse. We are getting married.” The dam finally broke. Tears poured down her face, washing away weeks of silent agony. “Tristan, if you are only doing this because of the baby, I can still go back. You do not have to trap yourself.” The sudden hope was too beautiful. She was terrified that if she reached out to grab it, she would only fall from a higher cliff. “Go back? So you can run straight to that mentor of yours?” I let out a bitter, jealous laugh, keeping up the act. “Do you really love him that much?” This was the second time she had heard me mention her college mentor, Nolan. It was absurd, but a powerful intuition bloomed in her chest: there was a massive misunderstanding between us. A misunderstanding that had poisoned their entire relationship. She opened her mouth, but the words tangled in her throat. She did not even know where to begin.

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1 Eight years studying manipulative victim-players left my dissertation stalled, missing a prime subject. So when my wealthy biological parents arrived with DNA proof, I saw opportunity. Father announced Beth, my frail younger sister, demanding I accommodate her. Perfect data. I entered their car without packing. Back at the estate, Beth offered homemade soup with a sweet smile. As I reached, she dropped the bowl. Porcelain shattered. She sobbed instantly, claiming I struck it away. Mother cradled her, citing burns. Brother Mark kicked shards, ordering me gone. Father demanded an apology. Beth wept dramatically over a faint red mark. I opened my research journal, pen ready. Smiling, I asked Beth for her contact details. I wished to credit her properly in my dissertation acknowledgments. … “Are you out of your mind? Contact info?” Mark slapped the journal out of my hand. It flipped through the air and landed right next to the broken porcelain. I looked at Mark’s face, flushed red with anger. He was panting like a rabid bulldog. “Beth’s hand is scalded, and you’re here making snide remarks?” He pointed a finger at my face. “Do you have any humanity left in you?” I ignored him, bent down to avoid the glass, picked up my journal, and dusted it off. Then I looked at Beth. “Scalded how badly?” I asked with genuine academic curiosity. “Are we talking dermal damage or subcutaneous tissue necrosis?” Beatrice’s eyes were filled with tears of anger. She blew on Beth’s hand while glaring at me. “How did I give birth to such a cold-blooded monster!” Beatrice hissed. “Growing up in the sticks for twenty years has turned you into a bitter, venomous creature. You aren’t worth a single hair on your sister’s head!” Beth snuggled closer to Beatrice, her shoulders trembling. “Mom, don’t blame Gwen. It was my fault. I didn’t hold it tightly. I’m just clumsy.” She wept, but her eyes darted toward me with unmistakable smugness. I shook my head, opening my journal. “Don’t sell yourself short.” I uncapped my pen. “According to basic physics, the bowl was exactly twelve inches above the table. The moment you released your grip, your wrist made a highly deliberate outward twist. This ensured the soup splashed entirely away from you and perfectly targeted my trousers.” I looked up, locking eyes with Beth, whose face instantly froze. “That’s not clumsiness, Beth. That’s precise parabolic calculation. You must have aced high school physics, right?” Beth’s crying stopped abruptly. The living room fell dead silent. Mark froze, then exploded. “What kind of garbage logic is that? Beth has always been terrified of hot things! She would never burn herself!” He kicked a nearby coffee table. “You’re not just cruel, you’re a liar! You’re not welcome in this house!” Richard, who had been silently drinking tea, slammed his cup down. “Enough.” His voice was heavy with authority. “You’ve barely stepped through the door and you’ve already turned this house upside down. It seems your unrefined upbringing is hard to wash away.” He dusted off his expensive suit. “Since you don’t know the rules, I’ll teach you.” Richard signaled the butler, who stepped forward with a thick document. “Miss Caldwell, this is a voluntary waiver for the family trust fund.” I looked at it, keeping my hands to myself. Richard leaned back. “Your sister is fragile and has a weak heart. She needs medical security. Now that you’re back with the Caldwells, we will provide for your basic needs. But you will sign this trust fund over to Beth. Consider it an apology for the soup.” A power play combined with financial exploitation. A classic wealthy family tactic for breaking in an unruly pet. Beatrice sneers. “Don’t think sharing our blood gives you free rein here. Beth is worth ten of you. I’d rather the money go to someone who deserves it.” Beth quickly struggled to stand up, pale and waving her hands. “Dad, Mom, please don’t. This belongs to Gwen. I can’t take it.” She shrank back, looking terrified, tears rolling down her cheeks. I watched her seamless performance with absolute delight. Beautiful. This “retreating to advance” maneuver was a textbook display of manipulative behavior. I snatched the document from the butler. “Beth, don’t be afraid.” I smiled. “Your performance is brilliant. You’ve earned this appearance fee.” I signed my name on the last page. Gwen. I slide the document back across the table. “Signed.” I looked at the stunned Richard. “Think of this fund as my research budget for observing Subject Number One.” I closed my journal. “Please keep up this high-purity favoritism and stupidity. Don’t disappoint me.” Silence. Richard’s face turned from red to purple. Beatrice gapes. Mark looked at me like I was insane. “Are you brain-damaged?” I grabbed my canvas duffel bag. “No need to thank me. Where is my room? Lead the way.” The butler, snapping out of his daze, wiped cold sweat from his forehead and quickly guided me upstairs. Behind me, Beatrice’s shrill screams and Beth’s quiet sniffling echoed. I pulled out my phone and logged the first entry: Day one. Subject is highly active. Excellent long-term observational value. 2 The butler took me to a room at the very end of the second-floor hallway. Cold, damp, and smelling of long-term neglect. It faced north, and the view was just a blank gray brick wall. Inside, there was only a single bed and an empty wardrobe. Not even a desk. The butler avoided my eyes. “We have guests staying over, so the proper guest rooms are occupied. Please bear with this for tonight. I’ll arrange for furniture tomorrow.” “It’s perfect. A natural quarantine zone.” I genuinely liked it. Isolated, few variables, great for data processing. The butler blinked, nodded quickly, and retreated. I drew the curtains, pulled out three micro-infrared cameras, and deployed them in the corners of the room within ten minutes. Prevention is key in academic research. At dinner time, a maid knocked to invite me down. I headed down with my notebook. The long mahogany dining table was laden with gourmet dishes. Richard sat at the head, Beatrice and Mark on the left, Beth beside Beatrice. On the right, there was a single empty seat. I pulled out the chair and sat down. I noticed a fascinating detail: the four of them had gold-rimmed bone china settings. In front of me sat a cheap stainless steel cafeteria tray and a pair of cheap, splintering disposable wooden chopsticks. Mark snickers. “What are you staring at? Be glad you’re even getting fed.” Beth stood up, carefully carrying a bowl of soup to me. “Don’t mind it, Gwen. Since you just came from the countryside, I was worried your stomach couldn’t handle the family’s regular dishes. We wouldn’t want any H. pylori or stomach bacteria spreading to Mom and Dad.” She placed the soup next to my metal tray. “I asked the kitchen to prepare this especially for you. It’s clean.” Beatrice nodded. “Beth is always so thoughtful. You should thank your sister.” I looked at the splintered chopsticks. Instead of picking them up, I pulled a clear plastic folder from my bag and dropped it onto the middle of the table. “Since we are being so hygienic, let’s follow scientific protocol.” I pointed to the folder. “This is a full-body medical report I got yesterday from Boston General Hospital. It covers blood work, metabolic panels, infectious diseases, and a C14 breath test for H. pylori. Negative across the board. Perfect health.” I leaned back, looking at Beth. “Now, your turn. Show me your medical report. Since you’ve been sickly since childhood, who knows what latent infections you’re carrying? For Mom and Dad’s safety, I suggest you switch to a disposable tray as well.” The air froze. Mark slammed the table. “Gwen! Are you trying to pick a fight? Beth was trying to help you, and you bring out some stupid medical report to show off? If you don’t want to eat, get the hell out!” I looked at him. Violent tendencies, high irritability, classic low-intelligence protective syndrome. I jotted it down. Beatrice trembled. “Richard, look at her! How are we supposed to eat?” Richard sneers. “Put those papers away. You don’t set the rules at this table.” Beth’s eyes welled up with tears. “Don’t blame Gwen, Mom. It’s my fault. I’ll go get a disposable tray for myself.” She turned toward the kitchen, looking incredibly fragile. Mark grabbed her arm. “You’re not changing anything! She’s the one who needs to get out!” He glared at me. “You don’t deserve this food!” With a loud crash, Mark swept my metal tray and its contents straight into the trash can. The maids shrunk back in terror. I watched the mess. No anger, no sadness. Just excitement. “Excellent stress response.” I stood up, sliding my medical report back into my bag. “Subject Number Two has a remarkably low emotional threshold, making him extremely easy to manipulate. You make a perfect control group.” I walked toward the stairs. At the landing, I stopped and look back. “By the way, a quick tip. That plate of drunken crab on the table? It was made with dead crabs. The histamine levels are off the charts. Eat up, if you don’t mind a night of severe food poisoning.” Mark yelled at my back, “Shut up! These are premium crabs flown in this morning!” I shrugged and went to my room, where I ordered delivery on my phone. Two hours later, chaos erupted downstairs. Sirens wailed. Mark was wheeled into an ambulance, clutching his stomach and screaming in agony. Standing behind my curtain, I recorded the flashing blue lights of the ambulance. Beautiful data collection. 3 The next morning, the tension in the Caldwell mansion was suffocating. Mark spent the night on an IV at the hospital. Beatrice, with bloodshot eyes, sat on the sofa sighing. When I walked downstairs, she glared at me. “You jinxed him! Ever since you came back, there hasn’t been a single day of peace!” I grabbed a glass of warm water. “I warned him about the dead crabs. If a dog insists on eating garbage, you can’t blame me for the diarrhea.” “You!” Beatrice threw a throw pillow at me. I tilted my head slightly, and it hit the water dispenser, falling to the floor. Beth came downstairs and immediately comforted Beatrice. “Mom, don’t get upset. It’s not worth ruining your health.” She looked at me with a sorrowful expression. “Gwen, even if Mark was rude to you, you shouldn’t have cursed him.” I pulled out my notebook. Concept switching, logical inversion. Distorting a factual warning into a malicious curse—a classic manipulative tactic to shift narrative focus. Richard walked in, scowling. “What’s all this noise?” He looked at me with disgust. “Tomorrow night, we are hosting a gala to officially introduce you to society. Beatrice, take them to buy some proper clothes today. I don’t want people thinking the Caldwells neglect our own.” Beatrice gave a reluctant nod. In the afternoon, the family driver dropped us off at Copley Place, Boston’s premier luxury shopping mall. Beatrice held Beth’s hand, completely ignoring me as I walked behind like a stray shadow. We entered a high-end designer boutique. The associate greeted them warmly. “Mrs. Caldwell, Miss Caldwell, we’ve reserved the latest seasonal arrivals for you.” Beth pointed to a rack of haute couture. “Mom, that starry-night gown is beautiful. I want to try it.” Beatrice beamed. “Try it, sweetheart. You look gorgeous in everything.” I walked to the other side and picked up a minimalist black evening gown. No flashy ornaments, but the cut and fabric were top-tier. As I prepared to ask for my size, a pale hand reached out and grabbed the fabric. “Gwen, this dress suits you so well,” Beth said, appearing beside me. Her eyes betrayed a flash of envy. “But it’s a bit dark. It might make you look a little too mature. Store associate, please pack this one for me instead. I think it would look better on me.” The associate looked between us, hesitant. Beatrice walked over. “If Beth wants it, let her have it! Why are you fighting over a plain black dress anyway?” She sneers at me. “Associate, find Gwen something cheaper. Just make sure she’s covered.” I let go of the fabric. “Sure.” I looked at Beth. “This dress is priced at thirty-eight thousand dollars. Since you love it so much, you can pay for it.” Beth froze. “Gwen… Mom is paying for this.” I smiled. “I signed the trust fund waiver last night. Technically, I’m just a penniless girl from the countryside. Since you’re the one snatching the dress I chose, you can’t expect me or the family trust to pay for you, an outsider. After all, that trust is for your medical care, not your wardrobe.” Beth’s face flushed crimson. The associate, being a seasoned professional in luxury retail, immediately read between the lines. Beatrice’s face darkened. “Gwen, stop causing trouble! The Caldwells can easily afford a dress!” I pulled out my phone and tapped the voice recorder. “Mrs. Caldwell, please confirm this. Are you currently diverting family funds allocated for Beth’s heart condition to purchase a thirty-eight thousand dollar luxury gown? If so, I will forward this audio recording directly to the Caldwell Group’s board of trustees.” Beatrice pulled her hand back as if she had touched hot iron. The auditing standards for family medical trusts were incredibly strict. Any violation would force her to face a grilling from the board. “You… you shameless brat!” Beatrice hisses. I tucked my phone away. “Complying with the law is hardly shameless. Associate, ring it up on Miss Beth’s personal credit card.” Beth bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes, as she reluctantly pulled out her black card. She looked at the dress as if it were a burning coal. Ignoring them, I walked next door to an independent designer boutique, used my own card, and purchased a sharp, structured white pantsuit. The welcome gala was about to begin, and the real show was just getting started. 4 The gala was held at the grand ballroom of the Grand Regent Hotel, owned by the Caldwell Group. As the evening began, Boston’s elite filled the room, a sea of diamonds and designer wear. I sat in a quiet corner of the lounge in my white pantsuit, sipping club soda and observing the room with cool detachment. Beth was the star of the night. Wearing her thirty-eight thousand dollar starry-night gown, she looked like a delicate porcelain doll, surrounded by a circle of wealthy socialites. “Beth, you’re far too kind. That wild girl from the country treats you so terribly, yet you’re still defending her,” a girl in a red dress said, raising her voice deliberately. Several disdainful glances shot in my direction. Beth looked down, playing the martyr. “Don’t say that. Gwen had a hard life before she came back. It’s only natural she has a difficult personality.” I open my phone’s notepad: Using group consensus to isolate the target. A textbook social bullying opening. Midway through the evening, Richard stood on the stage, delivering a hypocritical speech about finding his long-lost daughter. Amidst the polite applause, Beth approached me with a glass of red wine, blocking the overhead spotlight. “Gwen, everyone is looking at you. Aren’t you going to offer a toast?” Her smile was sweet, but her eyes were pure venom. “I’m not thirsty,” I said without looking up. Beth leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear. “Do you really think coming back means you can steal my life? In this family, I am the only one they love. Even if you share their blood, you’re nothing but a stray dog.” I stopped swirling my glass. “Heart rate 120, adrenaline spiking.” I looked at her slightly trembling shoulders. “Looks like you’re about to make your big move. Let’s get on with it, I’m on a schedule.” Beth froze for a fraction of a second. The next instant, she grabbed the lapel of my suit jacket. Simultaneously, her other hand ripped the ten-million-dollar emerald necklace from her own neck. The silver chain snapped, scattering emerald beads across the floor. Beth threw herself backward, letting out a blood-curdling shriek. “Ah! Gwen, what are you doing!” She crashed to the floor, her wrist scraping against the marble, drawing a thin line of blood. The entire ballroom fell dead silent. Every eye turned to our corner. Beatrice screamed, rushing over and pushing me aside. “Beth! Oh my god, Beth, are you alright?” Mark, who had just arrived from the hospital, saw this and went red with rage. He lunged forward, grabbing my collar. “You vicious bitch! You tried to steal Beth’s family heirloom!” Richard strode over, his face dark enough to summon a thunderstorm. “What happened here?” he bellows. The girl in the red dress steps forward to testify. “Mr. Caldwell, I saw it! Gwen tried to rip the necklace off Beth’s neck. When Beth wouldn’t let her, Gwen shoved her to the ground!” “Exactly! Some people just can’t shake their gutter habits!” whispers rippled through the crowd. Beth wept in Beatrice’s arms, gasping for breath. “Dad, don’t blame Gwen… maybe she just liked the necklace… I would have given it to her… why did she have to push me…” Richard’s chest heaved with fury. He pointed a shaking finger at my face. “Gwen! You have humiliated this family!” he roared. “Kneel down! Apologize to your sister right now, or I swear I will break your legs!” Mark pressed down on my shoulders, trying to force me to my knees. I stood firm, brushing his hands off my shoulders. I adjusted my collar. “There’s no need to kneel.” I looked at the self-righteous crowd. “Why don’t we all look up first?” I pulled a small remote from my pocket and pressed the red button. With a hum, the massive LED screen on the main stage flickered to life. The video quality was crystal clear, complete with crisp audio. The camera angle was a wide-angle view captured directly from the lapel of my suit. It showed everything.

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