"Is this Dr. Viv Shaw? My son was in an accident! You're his only chance!"
The second I heard that voice on the phone, I froze.
Five years ago, same voice: "Your hand for your brother's future. Fair trade."
That day, he grabbed my arm and shoved my right hand behind the door.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Every time that door slammed, my hand got more mangled.
Till I finally dropped that USB drive with all the proof.
Mom stood there the whole time, hands clamped over her ears, blocking out my screams:
"Your dad's doing this for the family! What good does ruining your brother do you?!"
By the time I got to the hospital, it was too late to fix.
After that, I couldn't hold a scalpel again.
"Dr. Shaw? Dr. Shaw? Please! I'm begging you! Save my son! I'll pay anything!"
I used my left hand to hold down my shaking right.
Said it slow:
"Yeah, I'm Viv Shaw."
"But I can't help."

After I hung up, the lab went dead quiet.

Dr. Caleb Quinn, director of the neurosurgery research center who'd come to observe—

Looked at my pale face, expression heavy.

My student Rita broke the silence first.

"You okay, Dr. Shaw?"

I shook my head.

Then the door slid open.

Ken Moss—from the medical admin office—came in fast.

"Viv, City General just sent an emergency consult."

"Car crash. Guy's twenty-eight. It's bad."

I looked away. "Tell them to call Dr. Liam at State Medical."

"Liam already saw the scans. He said it's too risky. He won't touch it!"

He took a deep breath, like he was making sure I understood how serious this was:

"You know who the patient is?"

"Marcus Shaw. Richard Shaw's only kid—you know, Shaw Industries."

"They literally just agreed to fund our whole new surgery wing. Papers are ready to sign."

I looked at him.

Ken lowered his voice, practically hissing:

"We can't blow this."

"Even if you won't operate, at least show up at City General."

"The Shaws asked for YOU. You're our star surgeon. Best in the States."

I shoved my right hand in my pocket. "I can't operate."

Ken froze. "What do you mean 'can't'?"

"You were just doing surgery demos. We all saw you. Your hands were fine."

I looked at that fake practice model under the scope.

No body heat.

No blood.

Wouldn't die if my hand slipped.

"Fake brain tissue and a real person's brainstem? Two different things."

"I can look at scans, plan approaches, tell you risks. But I can't step into an OR."

Ken's face went red. "That's a human life!"

I glanced at the clock.

Eleven minutes since that first call.

"Which is why you need to stop wasting time here."

"Tell City General to prep their own team now."

"Need a plan? I'll send one."

"Need me to operate? Not happening."

Ken didn't leave.

He stood there, face cycling between pissed and panicked.

"Viv, don't be stubborn right now."

"This Shaw donation isn't just money."

"It's new ORs, robot equipment, your whole brainstem project."

"You've always wanted to make this lab number one, right?"

"Now it's right there—don't kick it away."

Caleb cut in. "Ken, back off."

Ken spun on him.

"Back off?"

"She knows this stuff inside and out. She's literally the best."

"If she says no, we look like monsters."

I met his eyes. "Say I refused. Say I'm not good enough anymore. But I won't gamble someone's life for a building."

Ken's jaw tightened.

Rita started to say something:

"Dr. Shaw's not refusing—her hand—"

"Stop."

I cut her off.

Some scars don't need showing every time.

Ken's phone buzzed again.

He checked it and his face changed.

"Mr. Shaw's downstairs. His wife too. They brought press."

Everyone in the lab svcked in a breath.

Caleb turned to me. "Viv, go to my office. I'll handle this."

I shook my head. "Can't hide from it."

Five years.

Thought I was over being scared of them.

Changed my name, left that house, quit surgery, buried myself here.

But just knowing Richard and Lauren were coming made my hand start hurting again.

That reminded me how close I got to everything I wanted.

And how they ripped it away.

Chaos started downstairs.

Crying.

Yelling.

A man's voice, barely holding back rage: "Get Viv Shaw out here now!"

"If my son dies, this whole place goes down!"

Ken looked at me—begging and threatening at once.

"Dr. Shaw, whatever went down between you and the Shaws, just talk to them."

"They're his parents."

I smiled a little.

"His parents?"

"They're mine too."

Ken thought he heard wrong. "What?"

I didn't explain.

Because the door was already opening.

Richard Shaw burst in first.

Five years older—gray at the temples now.

But same eyes. Looking at everyone like we're beneath him.

Lauren Zane stumbled behind him, two relatives holding her up. She clutched some crumpled hospital form.

First time they saw me, they didn't know who I was.

Makes sense.

Five years back, I was still Flora.

Chopped hair, old shirts, lived in hospitals and labs.

Now I'm Viv Shaw.

Hair up, glasses, clean coat.

How would they recognize the kid they threw out?

Richard stepped forward, voice rough:

"You Dr. Viv Shaw? Please. Save my son. Name your price!"

Lauren dropped to her knees. Grabbed my coat, sobbing.

"Dr. Shaw, please! Marcus is our only child. We can't lose him..."

Only child.

Like a knife twisting in my ch//est.

I looked down at her.

Five years ago, I was on my knees too.

Basement floor, hand bleeding everywhere.

"Mom, it hurts!"

"Mom, I need my hand for surgery!"

"Mom, make him stop!"

Know what she did?

Stood in the doorway. Didn't move. Just said:

"Viv, stop fighting him. You pushed your dad too far."

"If your brother goes to jail, this family's done."

Now she's on her knees for her precious son.

I pulled my coat free.

"Mr. and Mrs. Shaw. Already told you. I can't help."

Lauren froze.

Richard's face hardened.

"What?!"

I said it again: "I can't operate. You've got time. Find someone else."

Dead silence.

Lauren stayed on the floor, tears stuck on her face.

Richard stared at me, eyes getting darker.

"Dr. Shaw, we not begging hard enough? You want money? Fame? Tell me. Save my son and it's yours."

"This isn't about money."

Richard laughed—bitter.

"Then what? You doctors are all the same. 'Saving lives' till there's cash on the table."

Ken tried to jump in.

"Mr. Shaw, that's not what she—"

"Shut up!"

Richard cut him off.

Turned back to me. No more begging—just hate now.

"My son's dying and you're here bargaining. Every second you waste, he's closer to dead!"

"I know. That's why I keep saying—stop wasting time on me."

Richard's face went black.

"Viv Shaw, don't push me. You're a doctor. Letting someone die—that doesn't scare you?!"

That shut people up fast.

A few students looked freaked out.

Ken was frowning but didn't push anymore.

Someone whispered:

"Why won't Dr. Shaw go?"

"Didn't she do that surgery before?"

"His parents are literally on their knees..."

Quiet voices. But loud enough.

Richard definitely heard.

Like he finally found my weak spot, he turned and nodded at the door.

Suddenly cameras poured in. Plus people with phones, livestreaming. Lenses right in my face.

"Dr. Shaw, they say you're the youngest top neurosurgeon in the country."

"The patient's family is begging on their knees. Why are you so heartless?"

"Rumor is you're fighting with Shaw Industries over donations. Are you using this patient's life as leverage?"

"As a doctor, aren't you scared of being remembered as a monster?"

Question after question.

Flashes stabbing my eyes.

Caleb stepped in front of me.

"Everyone out! This is a research lab, not a press conference!"

Nobody listened.

Livestream viewers kept climbing.

Some just watching.

Some calling me heartless.

Some saying I was being difficult.

Others started digging up my past.

"Completed world-class neurosurgery at twenty-seven."

"Quit clinical work three years ago out of nowhere."

"Now hiding in a lab teaching?"

Richard watched the comments on his phone.

Something flickered in his eyes—satisfaction.

"Dr. Shaw." He said it slow: "I'm saying this once."

"If anything happens to my son, you're done in medicine. Forever."

Lauren nodded through tears.

"Dr. Shaw, you're a woman. You'll have kids someday. How can you just watch mine die?"

I finally looked up.

"Lauren Zane."

Her crying stopped.

I pulled down my mask.

Everyone in the lab stared.

Richard froze.

Lauren's eyes went wide.

Her lips shook—wanted to say something but couldn't be sure.

I looked at them. Voice quiet.

"You really don't recognize me?"

"Or is the daughter whose hand you destroyed five years ago already dead to you?"

Lauren's face went white as paper.

"You... you're..."

I finished for her.

"I'm Flora Shaw. The daughter you threw away."

"Now I go by Viv Shaw."

Dead silence.

Even the reporters forgot to ask more questions.

Livestream chat froze for a second, then exploded.

Richard stared at me hard.

His face went from shock to panic to fury.

"What are you talking about?"

"Destroyed your hand? Stop playing victim to change the subject!"

I smiled.

"Change the subject?"

"Richard Shaw. Lauren Zane."

"You want to know why I can't operate?"

I raised my right hand and slowly pulled off the lab glove.

The scar—from thumb joint to wrist—ug1y under every camera lens.

I looked at Richard, said it slow:

"Ask my biological father for the answer."

Learn more

Chapter 1 

[Countdown to Erik’s birthday: 7 days] 

Alison Reese’s phone screen lit up with a push notification. She was holding a big gift box and pacing around the apartment, trying to find a good hiding place. 

The box held a custom birthday gift she’d ordered two months in advance. She wanted to give her husband, Erik Hale, a surprise. 

She got down on the floor, leaned over, and peered under the bed in the master bedroom. In the corner lay a white capsule. 

Alison reached under the bed and pulled it out, setting it in her palm. It was smaller than a regular cold medicine capsule, smooth-shelled, and unmarked. 

She kept turning it over in her palm. She’d never seen anything like it. 

Taking out her phone, she snapped a photo of the capsule and opened an Al image recognition app. When the result popped up, 

she froze. 

“Vaginal spermicidal suppository. Contains spermicide. Can be used in place of condoms.” 

Alison stared blankly at the words on the screen. Her mind went completely empty. 

She had never bought anything like that. In their two years of marriage, she and Erik hadn’t ever slept together. He was either buried in work or away on business trips. Even when he came home, he always acted exhausted and never laid a hand on her. 

Alison clenched the spermicide in her fist and spaced out for a long time, unable to even process her thoughts. Then, her phone’s ringtone suddenly erupted loudly, yanking her back to reality. 

Her aunt, Jane Swanson, was sobbing on the other end. “Ally, come to the hospital right now! Your Uncle Malcolm collapsed. The doctor said they have to rush him into the ER!” 

Outside the operating room at Anwell Hospital, a hospital owned by Hale Corporation, a nurse’s voice rang out from the end of the corridor, sharp and urgent. 

“Family of Malcolm Reese! Is Malcolm Reese’s family here?” 

Alison ran over. “Here! I’m here.” 

“The patient has pancreatic cancer. His condition is critical, and he needs immediate surgery.” The nurse handed her a form. ” This is the surgical consent form. A family member needs to sign.” 

Alison’s ears rang. As a medical student, she knew very well that pancreatic cancer was the king of cancers. There were no early symptoms, and by the time most patients were diagnosed, it was already late-stage. 

When she was 12 years old, her parents had died in an accident. Back then, it had also come down to a single sheet of paper. She’d been so young and devastated back then that she could barely write her own name. 

It was Malcolm who had signed the form for her. After signing, he’d picked her up and said, “Don’t be scared, Ally. I’ve got you.” 

Now, Alison tried several times to sign her name, but her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t get the pen under control. 

She pulled out her phone and scrolled to Erik’s number. The call rang for a long time before he finally picked up. 

+15 Bonus 

“What is it?” he asked flatly, like she had no business bothering him. 

In the background, she could hear loud chatter, music, and… fireworks? 

She heard the heavy, muffled booming sounds, one burst after another. 

“Uncle Malcom is in the ER. They said it’s pancreatic cancer. Can you come? I’m here by myself” 

“I’m out of town on business.” He uttered those words, his tone crisp and final. “Ask your cousin to go.” 

“Noah isn’t in Hollibrook. He-” 

“Then handle it yourself.” Erik’s tone turned impatient. “I can’t get away right now.” 

The call cut off, the silence unusually loud in Alison’s ear. She stood in the hallway, gripping her phone. In the nearby waiting area, someone had turned on the TV. The news was on. 

“…Ravenport’s Centennial Fireworks Gala is lighting up the night sky over Harris Harbor…” 

Alison looked up. On the screen, fireworks burst over a glittering harbor. The camera swept across an observation deck packed with people. 

Suddenly, the camera zoomed in. A man and a woman stood at the railing, shoulder to shoulder, heads tilted up to watch the fireworks. The man wore a dark gray overcoat, his profile sharp and handsome. It was Erik, her husband, and the woman beside him was Monique Shore, his first love. 

So, the “business” he’d mentioned was actually a getaway with Monique to watch fireworks by the harbor. 

Alison stared at the screen, motionless. 

Erik had his arm around another woman. They stood together under the fireworks, in front of the whole world. 

“Miss, we need your signature!” The nurse came back out. 

Alison lowered her eyes to the consent form. Her hand was still trembling. 

She grabbed her right wrist with her left hand, forcing her fingers to steady, and dragged out the final stroke of her name. The letters were crooked but still legible. 

Three days later, Alison sat in the office of Malcolm’s attending physician, Stanley Lowell. 

“Mr. Reese’s condition is complicated. The standard treatment protocols we have here won’t work very well for him,” Stanley 

said. 

After a pause, he continued, “Alvonia approved a new drug last year, and the clinical data looks very promising. I heard even their president is on it. You’ll need serious connections to get it, though.” 

Halfway through his explanation, Alison’s hands balled into fists. 

Stanley’s tone became a touch more respectful. “Mrs. Hale, given your situation, I assume Mr. Hale can pull some strings to get the drug.” 

Her cousin, Noah Reese, who was sitting beside her, frowned slightly. 

Alison nodded. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, “Yes. I’ll talk to him.” 

“Great, great. With Mr. Hale stepping in, I’m sure everything will work out.” 

Alison and Noah stepped out into the hallway. The office door swung shut behind them, but not all the way. 

+15 Bonus 

From the gap, they heard Stanley’s assistant’s hushed voice. “Dr. Lowell, what did you just call her?” 

“You don’t know who she is?” Stanley lowered his voice. “That’s Mrs. Hale, the eldest daughter-in-law of the Hale family. She’s Mr. Erik Hale’s wile 

“Oh? She looks so young. But why is her uncle in a regular ward?” 

“Hush!” Stanley silenced him. Don’t stick your rase into rich people’s business.” 

Noah stopped walking and caught Alison by the arm. “Ally don’t want you begging him for anything.” 

She smiled. “Noah, begging is an exaggeration. He’s my husband.” 

He studied her face. 

“Go keep Uncle Malcolm company first,” she said. “I’ll make a call.” 

Alison walked toward the open atrium on the second floor, planning to call Erik. She had just taken out her phone when she froze 

From where she stood, she could see straight down to the entrance of the inpatient building. A black Bentley had just pulled up. 

Several hospital executives in suits were waiting at the door. One of them rushed forward to open the car door. 

A man and a woman stepped out. The man was strikingly handsome, with the refined, polished look of a movie star. The woman’s beauty was vivid and luminous, but there was a faint, sickly pallor to her that made her look all the more delicate. 

Erik carefully helped the frail-looking Monique out of the car and led her quickly through the lobby to the elevator. The elevator stopped at the VIP ward floor. 

Alison took another elevator and pressed the button for the same floor. The numbers ticked up, one by one. 

The VIP ward floor was quiet. Thick carpeting swallowed the sound of footsteps. 

One room stood with its door slightly ajar. Voices drifted out. Through the crack, Alison saw Erik moving around the bed, fussing over every little detail, all his usual cold detachment gone. 

Monique leaned against the headboard and chided softly, “Erik, it’s just a bit of a cold and a fever. You don’t have to make such a big deal out of it.” 

“When was your last full checkup?” Erik asked. “Since you’re here, you should get a complete workup. I’ll stay with you. 

She lowered her eyes, the corners of her lips lifting in a shy smile. 

He picked up a cup of milk tea with a straw already inserted and handed it to her. “I had them warm it up. It’s not hot.” 

Alison suddenly remembered the one time she had finally talked Erik into going shopping with her. She’d mentioned wanting milk tea, and he’d given her a look of pure contempt. He had scoffed and asked, “How old are you? You still drink that kid stuff?” 

Inside the room, Erik walked over to a narrow cot in the corner and pressed down on it with his palm to test it. He asked, “Is this the sleeper chair? I’ll sleep here tonight.” 

“You shouldn’t stay the night…” Monique murmured. “She won’t like it.” 

“I told her I’m out of town on business tonight.” 

Alison’s phone suddenly buzzed in her hand. She glanced down and realized that at some point, her finger had accidentally hit the call button. 

Erik’s phone started ringing. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, then declined the call. 

“Was that her?” Monique asked softly. “You should go home.” 

3/4 

“What could she possibly need me for?” He slid his phone back into his pocket. “She’s just a kid craving attention.” 

“A kid?” Motique repeated 

+15 Bonus 

“My grandmother forced her one. She doesn’t know anything. I have nothing to talk about with her,” he said dismissively. 

Feeling numb, Alison turned and walked away 

Chapter 1 Maritime Survival Game

A mechanical voice came out of nowhere: [Attention, players. The Maritime Survival Game is now live.]

The nurse fiddling with Molly Rivers's IV chuckled, "Oh, great, another one of those games?"

"No, I don't—" Molly answered, but the mechanical voice cut her off. She clamped her mouth shut and killed her phone screen.

It said: [Here are the rules, so listen up: First, everyone's going into the Maritime Survival Game. If you die in there, you're dead for real. Don't buy it? Go ahead and find out for yourself.]

It wasn't coming from her phone. Molly pressed her lips together, every instinct in her head screaming that something was wrong. She managed to push down the sudden spike of panic and stay focused.

The voice kept going: [Second, the first three days are the beginner phase. Grab as many supplies as you can while you have the chance. You know, the weather out here can change in an instant.

[Third, everyone gets a chance to draw—zzzt —awaken one Talent.]

'Huh? Draw what?' Molly frowned. 'Did I mishear that? Or it really mentioned something else?'

"Molly?" The nurse paused and turned to Molly, a puzzled look on her face.

When she caught the confirming look in Molly's eyes, she got her answer. The nurse clutched the empty bottle, panic written all over her face as she muttered, "It's a prank, right?"

But Molly couldn't take her eyes off the glowing blue screen. Right in the middle, bold and impossible to miss, were two options: Yes and No. Below them, a red countdown timer ticked away, each number ratcheting up the tension.

The timer hit three. Then two. The sharp buzzing drilled into her skull, practically screaming at her to hit Yes.

Molly's face, already pale, went completely white. She pressed a hand to her pounding head and reached for the screen, hitting Yes.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the nurse frozen in shock. Molly gritted her teeth, anxiety spiking, and tugged at the nurse's sleeve. "Hurry, hit Yes."

"Ah? Oh, okay." The nurse finally snapped out of it and quickly tapped Yes, her hand shaking as it hovered over the screen.

Several lines of bold, blood-red text appeared before Molly's eyes. She forced her heavy eyelids apart, trying to read them.

It read, [Awakening... Congratulations! Potential unlocked. Talent awakened: Dodder. Talent Level: A. Upgrade available.]

'Damn it, why does it have to act up now?' Molly cursed inwardly. Her vision kept getting fuzzier, and her phone slipped from her hand, tumbling to the floor.

She grabbed at the front of her hospital gown. The last thing she caught was a blur of white rushing toward her, and in that haze, she heard someone calling her name.

Then the red countdown numbers vanished, and everything changed.

The gentle, endless rhythm of the waves filled Molly's ears like a never-ending song. The salty tang of the sea hit her nose.

The buzzing faded away. She was panting, feeling totally out of sorts.

Finally, she caught her breath, and the weight that had been crushing her chest finally fell away. A long sigh escaped her lips.

The sunlight on her skin was warm and unmistakably real, and she could feel life humming through her fingertips.

Found and copied from f a c e b o o k and n o v e l l a i r s (no copyright infringement intended)

In my last life, my husband fell for a college girl.

I went crazy with jealousy. I tried everything to break them apart.

But I lost.

He destroyed my family... just to divorce me and marry her.

I couldn't accept it.

So I jumped off a building.

And he?

He looked at my body— with disgust.

"Couldn't you die somewhere else? You're ruining my view."

...

When I opened my eyes again, I was back— One month before he fell for her.

So this time, I went to where she worked. Watched her life like a stalker.

I needed to know—

What kind of girl... stole the man I loved for ten years.

In my last life, I never even met her.

All I had was a name... and a few photos.

I lost everything.

And my rival?

She never even showed her face.

--

The streets in Ardovelle were busy—cars and crowds everywhere.

I'd been sitting in a corner of a café called Déjà Vu for two hours already, facing the counter.

A young woman in a sky-blue apron was busy making drinks.

She was around 1.6 meters, probably less than forty-five kilos. Fair skin, always had a smile on her face. Her thick, dark hair was tied up in a high ponytail, and when she smiled, her eyes turned into crescent shapes that lit up the whole room.

“Ma’am, would you like a refill?”

She walked over with a bright smile.

How awkward. I’d been so lost staring at her that I completely zoned out. Good thing I was a woman, or someone might’ve thought I was some kind of creep.

“Sure. Still black,” I smiled politely, my voice giving nothing away.

Soon, she set another bitter black coffee on the table in front of me. But instead of leaving right away, she hesitated for a second before getting a little nosy.

“Ma’am, you’ve already had two cups of black coffee. I know it helps keep you awake, but drinking too much isn’t good for you. Maybe... you could save the next one for another time?”

She was kind and outgoing, her voice crisp and brisk, like wind chimes—pleasant to the ear.

I glanced at the black coffee, then stood up, purse in hand.

“Okay. Check, please.”

She beamed like she was glad I’d taken her advice.

I paid without a word and left the café quickly.

“Mrs. Crowe.”

The driver, Parker Ellis, respectfully nodded at me and opened the car door.

“Home.”

The car pulled off smoothly. I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, but my mind kept drifting back to the young woman at the café.

That was Lydia Fairburn.

The woman Preston Crowe was so set on divorcing me for one year from now, even though it meant burning every bridge with his family.

I hadn’t expected the first thing I did after being reborn was to go to her workplace and watch her like some kind of creep.

It was just... I was curious.

I wanted to know what kind of woman took away the man I’d loved for ten years.

In my past life, I never even met her. Preston kept her so protected, like she was the most precious thing in the world. All I had was a name and a few photos.

I lost everything, and my opponent never had to show her face.

Young, beautiful, innocent, kind, cheerful...

All those nice words fit her perfectly.

Her only flaw was her humble background, which created a huge gap between her status and Preston’s.

Just then, Parker broke the silence.

“Mrs. Crowe, today is your and Mr. Crowe’s anniversary.”

I opened my eyes, feeling dazed for a second.

Come to think of it, it had been five years since I married Preston.

Every anniversary, I’d get busy all day, preparing a candlelit dinner and a gift for him.

I was twenty-seven this year, and he was twenty-nine.

“I know.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose, feeling my head throb a little. “You don’t have to remind me.”

Parker probably said that because he’d sensed something off about me this year.

But why was I always the one putting in the effort?

Why did I have to love Preston?

I’d thought about this before dying in my past life.

For Preston, I ended up dying a tragic death, my family destroyed.

While I was lost in thought, Parker pulled up outside the villa Preston and I shared.

To my surprise, I saw Preston’s car.

He was home.

My feelings were complicated.

Now I’d come back from the dead, what kind of expression was I supposed to put on when I saw the person who caused my downfall?

I thought I’d hate Preston.

After all, for another woman, he’d cornered me—his wife of five years.

He’d even driven my parents to their deaths, even though they’d treated him like their own son.

He practically wiped out my whole family.

But now that I was actually seeing him, the hatred wasn’t as strong as I’d expected.

What was left was mostly just acceptance.

In my past life, Preston gave me a chance.

He said we could end the marriage peacefully, and to make it up to me, he’d give me some shares of the Crowe Group—enough to set me up for life.

But I refused.

I was so bitter.

After ten years, I still couldn’t make him love me even a little, yet another woman spent only one year making him fall head over heels.

How was I supposed to accept it?

So I tried everything to win him back.

But step by step, it escalated—from a rift, to a standoff, to a point where only one of us could walk away alive.

This time, none of that had happened yet.

Instead of wasting my energy hating him, I’d rather change the fate that left me a tragedy.

“Why are you standing there?”

Preston sat on the sofa in the living room, his long legs casually crossed. The cigarette between his fingers had burned down. He stubbed it out in the ashtray with practiced ease, then glanced up at me with the same indifference he always had.

The day we married, he told me bluntly that we were at most roommates, that our marriage was basically a partnership, that he felt nothing toward me.

“Nothing. Just surprised to see you home.”

I bent down to change into slippers.

They were Hermès, elephant gray, simple design, understated color.

Comfortable—probably the only thing they had going for them.

Then Lydia in the blue apron popped back into my mind.

Right—there was a little red flower smiley face pinned to her apron.

None of the other staff had that.

Then I thought about my clothes—all expensive and dull.

Simple as always.

Boring as always.

Suddenly, I found those slippers repulsive.

I kicked them off and walked into the living room barefoot.

Preston noticed. He frowned slightly, a hint of surprise flickering across his eyes.

“You’re not wearing your slippers?”

“No. Don’t feel like it.”

I answered flatly, sitting down across from him.

“That’s rare. Who got under your skin?”

He actually chuckled, and his tone was light—both were probably a first.

I wanted to say, “Your future soulmate,” but I held back.

Instead, I looked down at my pale feet.

Because I was so thin, they looked a little bony.

Lydia was different.

She was thin, too, but her skin was firm and healthy.

Me?

I was practically skin and bones.

Five years of a lonely marriage had done a number on me.

I had no appetite, so I kept losing weight, and now I looked like a skeleton.

“Preston,” I said.

“Yeah?”

He was on his phone, not bothering to look up.

My gaze lifted from my feet to him, my voice a little hoarse.

“I want a divorce.”

He scoffed.

Tossing his phone onto the sofa, he looked at me, his gaze familiar—cold and indifferent.

“What are you playing at this time, Bianca?”

“I mean it.”

I sat up straight and met Preston’s intense gaze without flinching.

“It’s been five years. You’re not going to fall for me anyway. Let’s just cut each other some slack.”

In a month, there’d be a big business conference in Ardovelle.

Preston would meet Lydia there.

It would be love at first sight for him, and he’d stop at nothing to get her.

What an epic love story.

No way I was sticking around to be the disposable side character.

In my past life, I did everything I wanted to do, could do, and should do.

And I saw how it ended.

This time, I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself or drag my family into the abyss again.

I decided to step away before Preston met Lydia.

I decided to remove myself from the picture before their rocky journey even began.

Chapter 1 Reborn Before the Apocalypse

"Look! What's that?" Someone shouted, and everyone looked up at the same time.

A blazing fireball was falling from the sky, racing straight toward Autumn Montclair.

She was thin, tanned, and so numb that she could no longer make any expression.

Shock. Fear. Panic. Despair. Those were the reactions people had at the beginning of the apocalypse.

But she had survived for 15 years. Long ago, she had forgotten how to feel.

"Run! The fire is coming!" The crowd scattered in every direction.

Everyone ran like headless chickens, searching for somewhere safe to hide.

But where was there left to hide?

For the past 15 years, droughts, floods, deep freeze, deadly heat waves, sandstorms, hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanoes, acid rain, and insect swarms had taken turns destroying the world. The planet had become a wasteland.

Once, the world had held billions of people. Now, fewer than 2,000 survivors remained.

And just when those last 2,000 people thought they had finally found the final safe place on Earth, another disaster struck and erased the last piece of paradise.

As the falling fireball rushed toward her, emotion finally returned to Autumn's eyes.

But there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

Tears filled her eyes. She opened her arms and chose to welcome the world-ending meteor.

Boom!

"Tap, tap, tap. Testing, testing. Hello? Hello?" Someone was tapping on a microphone.

The loudspeaker's sharp voice jolted the struggling girl awake.

Autumn's eyes flew open. She lay there, stunned for a long time. Then she suddenly jumped out of bed. She touched her face. Her arms. Her body. A second later, she ran into the bathroom.

She stared at the girl in the mirror. Young. Healthy. Full-cheeked. Not the starving, dying woman she remembered. She turned and bent over the toilet, gagging.

A moment ago, she had been a burned corpse.

The next moment, she was reborn.

She could still smell the stench of burning flesh lingering in her nostrils.

"Residents of Everjoy Residences, please come to the community office and sign the redevelopment papers. The first person to sign will receive an extra ten percent compensation, plus one bag of rice and one bag of flour. Offer ends today!"

The loudspeaker outside kept repeating the announcement. It urged the residents to come and collect their payments.

Wait.

Redevelopment?

What year is this?

Autumn hurried back into her room. She reached under her pillow and fumbled for her phone.

After fifteen years, she had forgotten her phone password. Luckily, it still had a fingerprint unlock.

The moment she saw the date on the screen, she was thunderstruck. March 1, 2056.

She had returned three months before the apocalypse.

On June 1st—a day usually filled with children's laughter and celebration—the apocalypse would officially begin.

And with it would come fifteen years of hell.

Was she really going to go through all of that again?

Chapter 1

After Christmas Eve dinner, Mom handed each of us a gift envelope.

Ryan opened his first. Inside was the deed transferring the family house to him.

Madison opened hers. Inside was a cashier's check for $75,000.

Mine was empty.

Mom smiled. "I'm getting older, so I figured it was time to start dividing things up."

"Ashley is pregnant, Ryan, so I'm signing the house over to you."

"Madison, you're getting married soon. Consider this my contribution to the wedding."

"And Mercy, haven't you always said I loved your brother and sister more than you? Once I retire, I'll move in with you. We can finally make up for all those years you felt like you didn't have a mother."

I shook my head. "Mom, I can't afford the kind of love you give me."

Then I pulled a signed no-contact declaration from my bag and held it out to her.

Mom's eyes immediately filled with tears, and everyone in the room started calling me selfish and ungrateful.

The insults kept coming right up until I opened my envelope.

Everyone stared at the no-contact declaration. The room went dead silent.

Ryan was the first to react. He jabbed a finger in my face.

"Mercy Bennett! What the hell are you doing on Christmas Eve?"

"Mom has always treated you better than the rest of us. You've been the favorite your whole life, and somehow that still isn't enough for you."

"Even tonight, your envelope is obviously the biggest one!"

Madison jumped in immediately, slipping an arm around Mom as if she needed to protect her from me.

"Mercy, you're in your twenties. Isn't it time you grew up?"

"Mom bought you a solid-gold bracelet for your birthday this year. Do you have any idea what gold costs right now? And you still have the nerve to say she doesn't love you?"

A bitter laugh slipped out as tears tracked down my cheeks.

"If you like it that much, you can have it."

I reached into my bag. The second Mom realized what I was doing, she pulled away from Madison and rushed at me.

She clamped both hands over mine, her voice instantly soft and motherly. "Mercy, honey, that was my birthday gift to you. You can't just give it away."

Seeing Mom rush to defend me, Madison crushed her envelope in her fist.

Uncle Robert, who had been standing off to the side, finally spoke. "Mercy, apologize to your mother and we'll let this go."

Mom waved him off at once. "No, no, she doesn't need to apologize. Mercy just started her first real job. She's probably stressed. I understand."

I wiped away my tears, and when I spoke again, my voice was steady.

"I didn't do anything wrong. Why should I apologize?"

"I'm not wrong. And I'm going no-contact. Starting today."

With that, I placed the gold bracelet Madison had been talking about in her hand.

Madison looked down at the darkened metal and fell silent.

Ashley, who worked at a jewelry store, blurted out before she could stop herself. "That's not solid gold. It's cheap metal with a gold-colored coating."

Eyes darted around the room. Mom lowered her gaze and suddenly couldn't look anyone in the eye.

Ryan broke the silence. "Mom's getting older. Somebody probably scammed her. But she meant to buy you a real gold bracelet. That's what matters."

Mom nodded quickly. "Mercy, I'm not as sharp as I used to be. I wanted to get you something nice, and I must've bought the wrong thing. That's on me."

"I'll replace it. Okay?"

Madison tried to slip the cheap bracelet back onto my wrist. "See? Mom cares about you. She thought she was spending thousands and didn't even hesitate."

I jerked my hand away. The flaking bracelet hit the floor with a sharp metallic clink.

Then I pulled free of Mom's grip and said evenly, "No. Sign it. I came back to end things with this fam—"

I never finished the sentence. Uncle Robert slapped me across the face.

He stared at me as if I had broken his heart. "Mercy Bennett, you don't get to forget everything people have done for you. After your father died, your mother raised all three of you on her own."

"Ryan and Madison can complain about favoritism if they want. You're the one person who can't."

He pointed at Mom's bad leg. "If your mother hadn't gone back into that fire, you would've died in that house."

"And now you're cutting her off because she got tricked into buying you a fake bracelet?"

Mom took an uneasy step back, making her limp impossible to miss.

Anger flared across every face in the room. I didn't so much as flinch.

I looked past Uncle Robert at Mom. "Mom, you still haven't told them the truth about that fire?"

Chapter 1

After losing a round of Truth or Dare, I accepted the penalty without complaint and texted my boyfriend a single, reckless lie: I was pregnant.

He replied instantly: [Whose is it?]

Tessa Reed, who had been enjoying the spectacle beside me, stared so hard her eyes nearly popped. “Wait.You two have dated this long and still haven’t taken things further?”

I opened my mouth to explain, but a stream of multicolored viewer comments suddenly materialized in the air directly before my eyes.

[I’m dying. The supporting girl had been dating the male lead for over six months, and they had only become truly close last month.]

[So what? She doesn’t know he’s a merman. Humans and merfolk are different, so their future together was never simple.]

[Merfolk value loyalty above everything. She just handed him proof that she cheated. He finally has a valid reason to dump her.]

[The male lead is calling the heroine. He must be accepting the arranged marriage.]

[Marriage first, love later is the best trope. Why would an ordinary human think she could compete with a merfolk princess?]

I stared at those impossible words until everyone else at the table seemed to fade away, then lowered my eyes and typed a reply to Gavin.

[It definitely isn't yours. You know why.]

---

When Tessa saw my message, her jaw dropped so dramatically that it nearly struck the table.

“You’re serious? Your six-foot-three CEO boyfriend still hasn’t gotten any closer to you?”

I nodded with the absolute certainty of someone presenting evidence in court.

“That’s right. He can’t.”

Gavin Mercer and I had lived together for an entire year.

Every night, the furthest he ever went was pulling me into his arms and kiss me until I could barely breathe.

Whenever I blushed and reached for his belt, he rolled away.

“I’m not feeling it,” he would say calmly. “Let’s sleep.”

Then he left me lying there in burning humiliation, staring helplessly at the broad line of his back.

Eventually, my frustration got the better of me, and I tried everything I could to get closer to him.

That night, after months of frustration, I finally thought we were taking a step closer.

It hurt at first, and his movements were clumsy.

Just when things started improving, he suddenly pulled away.

He stumbled through the dark and locked himself in the bathroom for the entire night.

No matter how often I knocked, he refused to unlock the door or give me any explanation.

After that disaster, I had almost given up on him.

If I was painfully honest, the only reason I had not ended the relationship was that Gavin was painfully handsome.

Looking at his face alone could improve my mood.

Now the comments claimed he was not human and could never have children with me.

That was more than disappointing; it threatened one of the clearest dreams I had for my future.

One of my greatest dreams was to have a beautiful daughter and wear matching outfits with her.

My thumb hovered over the screen, but Gavin did not answer.

Before I could sort through the implications, more comments floated past in a bright, jeering stream.

[Here’s a joke: the supporting girl thinks she already understands the male lead.]

[Everyone knows a romance hero only responds to the heroine. Those two disappeared together for three days in the deep ocean.]

[He kisses and cuddles the supporting girl while fighting his disgust. He’s only fulfilling his duties as her boyfriend.]

[The poor male lead doesn’t understand human games. He kindly took over his roommate’s online girlfriend, and she latched on to him.]

[She’s still making trouble. Give up. He definitely won’t come comfort you.]

I slowly typed, [We should break up,] but Tessa lunged across the table and caught my wrist before I could send it.

She leaned closer and lowered her voice.

“Mira, don’t be mad at me, but you should think this through.”