It took seven years for the intruder to leave my body. When I finally opened my eyes, I expected the world to click back into place, like a bone being set. Instead, I was met with the cold, mocking sneer of Steven Ward. “Faking amnesia now, Madeline? What kind of pathetic game are we playing today?” I didn't answer. I couldn't. I stared at him for a heartbeat before the adrenaline surged, and I lunged. I tackled him, my fingers clawing at his throat as a raw, jagged scream tore from my lungs. “Where is Nelson?! Where is Nathaniel?! How am I married to you?!” Seven years ago, I was carrying Nelson’s child. We were weeks away from our wedding. We had a life. We had a soul. How was I standing in this nightmare? 1 The moment I screamed Nelson’s name, Steven froze. His expression shifted from irritation to a jagged, cruel irony. “Madeline, finally. You’ve stopped pretending.” He wrenched my hands from his neck, his voice dripping with vitriol. “All that talk about how much you love me, and you’re still pining for another man? You really are a piece of work, aren't you?” He spoke with the righteous fury of a man wronged. And why wouldn't he? For seven years, the entity occupying my skin had acted like a woman possessed, doing the most degrading, shameless things to win his heart. The worst incident—the one that still made my skin crawl even as a memory trapped in a black box—was the "gift." To "surprise" Steven, the intruder had dressed in nothing but a few scraps of lace and silk, literally wrapping herself in a giant red ribbon inside his villa. She had waited, trembling with excitement, for him to come home. When the door opened, she popped out of the darkness. “Surprise!” She wasn't met with a romantic embrace. She was met by Steven and a dozen of his high-level business associates. “Who is this?” one of them had sneered, eyes raking over her exposed skin. “She’s certainly… eager.” “I heard she just had a kid,” another whispered, not even trying to hide the disgust. “Didn't even finish her recovery before she started throwing herself at the CEO again. Shameless.” The intruder’s face had gone ghostly pale. She had begged Steven to come home alone. She stood there, half-naked and humiliated, her eyes brimming with tears. “Why?” she whispered. Steven had looked at her like she was a stain on the rug. “I warned you to stop the theatrics, Madeline. This time, I’m done with you.” And I, the real Madeline, had to watch it all. I was the "Untouchable Ghost" in this twisted story—the girl Steven had obsessed over since high school. And he was the man who had turned that obsession into a cage. 2 In the narrative of Steven’s life, he was the tragic hero—the boy from the wrong side of the tracks, bullied and broken. I had been his only light. I remember finding him behind the gym, his face bruised, his uniform torn. I hadn't felt pity, just a simple, human need to help. I reached out a hand. “Are you okay?” He looked up, and the setting sun caught my hair. From that moment on, he harbored a dark, suffocating crush on me for over a decade. He was too insecure to speak, too shadowed to step into my world. He watched me fall in love with someone else. He watched me hold Nelson’s hand. Years later, we crossed paths in the corporate world. “Steven? Is that really you?” I had asked, genuinely happy to see an old classmate doing well. He had trembled, his nails digging into his palms as he forced a calm, “Yeah.” He devoured my smile with his eyes. Then, I handed him a thick, cream-colored envelope and a small box of artisanal chocolates. “What a coincidence. I’m getting married soon. Since we’re old friends, you have to come to the wedding. I remember you used to like sweets.” I hadn't noticed his face turn the color of ash. I didn't know he actually hated sugar. But because I gave it to him, he kept every piece of candy like a holy relic. He never expected the "sweetness" I offered would be the news of my marriage to another man. It took him an eternity to choke out a single word: “Fine.” That night, the rising star of the business world went home to his penthouse, ate every single chocolate until he felt sick, and then tried to drown himself in his marble bathtub. His suicide note was a single, haunting line: Madeline, if there is a next life, I hope I never meet you. The readers of his "story" went wild. “He’s so tragic! She doesn't deserve him!” “He was just shy! He protected her from the shadows for years!” “The author is a sadist. Why give him a woman who just moves on and marries someone else?” Because of that fan outrage, the "Transmigration Bureau" intervened. The intruder was sent to "save" the brooding, suicidal hero. And the sacrificial lamb they chose to host her was me. 3 Salvation? Heroes? The logic was absolute garbage. After I was forcibly shoved out of my own consciousness, my soul was locked in a dark void. I spent months screaming until my throat was raw, but the intruder just brushed me off. “I don't get you,” she would say, her voice echoing in my head. “Steven loves you so much. Why are you making such a fuss? If you hadn't been so 'unfaithful'—if you hadn't run off to marry some other guy before Steven could learn how to love—I wouldn't have to be here cleaning up your mess.” She looked down on me. She thought I was the villain for having a life that didn't revolve around a man I barely knew. Eventually, I started to wonder if I really was a monster. But I couldn't wrap my head around it. In my memory, Steven Ward was just a quiet kid I’d helped once. My only connection to him was that one afternoon while I was waiting for my fiancé to pick me up. 4 I begged the intruder. I pleaded with her to give me my body back. “I’m pregnant!” I screamed into the void. “I’m supposed to put on my wedding dress tomorrow!” She didn't listen. The day before the "takeover," Nelson and I were decorating our first home. He was like a big kid, spinning me around the living room. “Maddy, you’re finally going to be my wife.” I laughed and called him a dork. “Who else would I marry? I’m not going anywhere.” The next day, the intruder put on the Vera Wang gown Nelson and I had picked out together. And in front of all our friends and family, she ran. She made it look like a grand romantic gesture—the "bride for love" sprinting toward Steven’s villa. She broke into his house and pulled a half-dead Steven out of his bathtub. She held him, dripping wet and shivering, and whispered, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here to save you.” How touching. If only it wasn't my life she was burning to the ground. And if only Steven hadn't been "reborn" with his own set of dark memories. 5 It was a complication no one expected. Steven, saved from the brink, wasn't grateful. He was suspicious. He looked at the intruder with cold, cynical eyes. “Giving me hope just to crush me again? Is that the game, Madeline? You drive me to the edge and then pull me back just to watch me crawl?” He remembered the "first life." He thought he saw through my "manipulative" nature. “If you don’t love me, why save me? Why wait until I’m obsessed to give me the killing blow?” He sneered at the wedding dress she was wearing. “What is this? Another performance?” He swore he’d never be fooled again. But the readers loved it: “Finally! The 'chase me' arc! He’s just acting tough because he’s hurt. He’s secretly thrilled she chose him over the other guy!” Even the intruder believed it. She was convinced that Steven was just "traumatized" by the real me. She told herself that if she just poured enough "unconditional love" into him, he’d break. But what about me? What about Nelson? 6 For her "mission," she stole my life. She abandoned my unborn child. She decimated my wedding. Every time Nelson tried to find her, to talk to her, she met him with cruelty. “Stop it! I never loved you! It’s always been Steven!” My Nelson. My beautiful, steady Nelson. He couldn't understand how the woman he grew up with changed overnight. He just knew that his Madeline had disappeared. When she started talking about "terminating the mistake" in her womb, he nearly lost it. He held her—held me—and begged. “Maddy, stop. You’re sick. You’re just confused. It’s me. It’s Nelson.” We grew up together. He had held my hand when we were toddlers and told everyone we’d get married someday. And he made it happen. Our families were old friends. As the only daughter of the Thorne family, I was sheltered, but Nelson was my shield. Whenever I was upset, I went to him. I’d grab his sleeve and cry until my nose was red. “Nelson, someone was mean to me.” He was my superhero. He made the world safe. I’d wrap my arms around his neck and promise him, “I’m going to be your bride when I grow up.” It was a fairy tale. Right up until the day the monster took my skin. 7 Nelson was hollowed out by her cruelty, but he wouldn't let go. One night, after the intruder threatened to jump off a balcony if he didn't sign the annulment papers, he sat in his study and smoked until dawn. As the sun broke, he finally gave in. His voice was a ghost of itself. “I’ll sign. But the baby… you will carry the baby to term. Safely.” The intruder rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I’m not raising it. Don’t think you can use a kid to tie me down.” Nelson looked at her—really looked at her. For a split second, I felt like he saw me, the real me, screaming behind my own eyes. “I’ll raise him,” he whispered. 8 The day she left the hospital after giving birth, she met Nelson one last time. She took the locket he’d given me when we were sixteen—a piece of jewelry I’d worn every day of my life—and she cut the chain with a pair of scissors. She dropped it in the dirt and ground it under her heel. “I’m not 'confused' anymore, Nelson. Stop following me. This junk is trash. It makes me sick to look at it.” She didn't just break his heart; she pulverized it. She cut ties with my parents to marry Steven. She spent years being his "doormat" to earn "favor points." She danced for him, cooked for him, and eventually livestreamed a public proposal to him. Even when Steven was cold, even when he said, “I won’t fall for it twice, Madeline. You’re just a liar,” she persisted. Until the scandal broke. Steven’s status as an illegitimate heir was leaked. At a high-society gala, his half-brother’s wife threw a plate of leftovers over his head to humiliate him. The intruder stepped in. She took the hit. She stood there, covered in filth, and reached out her hand to him. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.” The lights of the ballroom hit her face. It was the exact echo of that afternoon behind the gym. Steven finally broke. He stopped pulling away and gripped her hand like a drowning man. After that, the world knew her as Steven Ward’s "devoted puppy." “I heard she had a fiancé and a kid. Left them both the second Mr. Ward looked at her.” “Ugh, poor guy. Imagine being the kid she didn't want. I hope he realizes she’s a snake and kicks her to the curb.” But they didn't get their wish. She was good at what she did. She forced her way into his dark world like a stubborn sun. When his business took a hit, she went on a livestream, knelt on one knee with a diamond ring, and asked him to marry her. “I was so terrible to you,” Steven had said, his voice thick. “Don’t you hate me?” She kissed his forehead. “You’re just stubborn. I’m never letting go.” The video went viral. And that same night, the news of Nathaniel Thorne’s near-fatal car accident didn't even make the front page. I hated her. I hated her with a soul-deep fire. Why me? Why was my life the fuel for this "redemption"? Why did my kindness to a stranger result in the destruction of everything I loved? Finally, in the seventh year of her occupation, my hatred became a physical force. I clawed my way through the darkness and shoved her out. 9 When she realized she was losing control, she panicked. “Are you kidding me?! I worked so hard to get this man for you! Don’t be an ungrateful brat! I hate original leads like you—always ruining the mission!” “You have everything now! You’re Mrs. Ward! Look at how he loves you!” She tried to threaten me, but the connection was snapping. “I’ll come back! Don’t you dare ruin this!” In her twisted logic, I was "winning." I had the billionaire’s love. What more could I want? I didn't want this "setup." In my life, the only man who mattered was the one I chose. To hell with the plot. To hell with destiny. The second I regained control, Steven leaned in to kiss me. I didn't hesitate. I wound up and delivered a slap so hard my palm stung. “Who the hell do you think you are? Don't you touch me.” He froze, five red finger marks blooming on his cheek. He stared at me, then let out a sharp, cold laugh. “Amnesia? Again? What is it this time, Madeline? A new role-play?” I looked at him—really looked at him—and then I lunged. I grabbed his collar, my voice a jagged shriek. “Where is Nelson?! Where is he?! How could I ever be married to a man like you?!” Seven years ago, I was Nelson’s. We were a family. And I was going to get that life back, or I was going to burn this whole house down with both of us inside. 10 The air in the room turned brittle. Steven’s face darkened, his eyes turning to chips of ice. “Nelson. Always Nathaniel. I knew you were still obsessed with him.” I glared at him with pure, unadulterated loathing. “He’s my husband! Who else would I be obsessed with? What is this place? I want to go home!” In two sentences, I had incinerated seven years of "favor points." Steven’s jaw tightened. “Husband? Ha. Is this because I stayed late with Amber last night? Are we playing the 'jealous wife' card now?” He stepped into my space, his presence suffocating. “Look at me, Madeline. Look at this ring. I am your husband. Get it through your head.” 11 He looked exhausted, tugging at his tie with irritation. “I told you, Amber is just my assistant. How many times do I have to explain? She’s a twenty-two-year-old intern. Why are you acting like a child?” “And I’m warning you,” he added, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl, “don’t use Thorne to provoke me again.” Amber. His new "personal secretary." The woman the intruder had been obsessed with "defeating" to prove her devotion. No wonder Steven thought I was just throwing a tantrum. The intruder would have collapsed, sobbing, begging for forgiveness, making excuses. But I wasn't her. I reached for the heavy crystal ashtray on the nightstand and hurled it at his head. There was a sickening thud. Blood began to trickle down Steven’s forehead. I stood there, my eyes burning. “Get. Out.” 12 The noise was enough to bring people running. The door burst open, followed by a theatrical gasp. “Steven!” It was Amber. She rushed over, her eyes wide with manufactured horror, dabbing at his forehead with a silk scarf. When she looked at me, a flash of triumph crossed her face before she masked it with "concern." “Madeline, how could you? Just because I made a mistake on the schedule and he was home late? You’re being violent!” She played the part perfectly—the innocent girl just trying to do her job. “Mr. Ward and I are strictly professional. You can hate me, but don't doubt his feelings for you.” At the mention of "feelings," Steven’s expression shifted from shock to a cold, hollow cynicism. “Feelings? If she cared about me, she wouldn't even have the energy to fake this.” In the past, he’d say something like that and the intruder would cling to him, swearing her eternal love. She’d deleted every contact in her phone just to prove he was her "everything." I grabbed a heavy bronze statuette from the vanity. “At least you’re not completely blind!” I snarled. The statuette whistled through the air. This time, the scream was higher. Amber had stepped in the way to "protect" him and took the hit to her shoulder. “Amber!” Steven shouted. She slumped against him, sobbing. “I’m okay, Steven. It’s my fault. Please, don’t be mad at her.” She leaned into his chest. “I... I feel dizzy.” Steven had reached his limit. He scooped Amber up into his arms, heading for the door. He stopped and looked back at me, his eyes full of pure rage. “You’ve lost your mind. If you don’t apologize to Amber by tonight, don't expect me to step foot in this house again.” He slammed the door. He was sure this "threat" would break me. It always did. He didn't see me bolt for the bathroom. I fell to my knees in front of the toilet and retched until I thought my lungs would come out. I have to thank my body for that. For seven years, the intruder had tried to get physically intimate with Steven. But every time he touched her, every time she even thought about it, this body would recoil. It was a biological rejection so deep no "soul" could override it. 13 When I was done vomiting, I slumped against the cold tile, feeling like a bruised peach. My fingers brushed against my phone. I picked it up, my thumb trembling over the screen. Who could I call? My parents? They’d disowned me years ago. They’d think I was lying or high. Nelson? It had been seven years. Why would he ever believe me? With shaking hands, I typed in the number I had memorized a lifetime ago. My finger hovered over the 'Call' button. Buzz. An unknown number flashed on the screen, cutting off my dialer. I answered it on instinct. “Hello?” my voice was like sandpaper. A young woman's voice came through. “Hello, is this Mrs. Ward? Your son got into a fight at the preschool. We’ve been trying to reach his father, but his line is busy. Could you come down and handle this?” My son. My son. I had nearly died giving birth to him, and I hadn’t seen his face once. “Is he hurt? Is it bad? I’m coming! I’m on my way!” I was babbling, ignoring the confusion in the teacher's voice. “He’s not hurt, ma’am... it’s just... your son was the one who did the hitting.” 14 I drove like a woman possessed, blowing through every red light. When I burst into the school office, my eyes scanned the room like a hawk. I saw the teacher and then... two little boys in the corner. One was wearing designer clothes, his chin up, looking arrogant. The other was wearing a plain, slightly dusty outfit, his face marked with red scratches. My heart broke just looking at him. The boy in the designer clothes saw me and made a face at the other kid. “You’re dead! My mom’s here to wreck you!” He ran toward me, arms open. I walked right past him. I dropped to my knees in front of the boy with the scratches and pulled him into my arms. “Let me see. Where does it hurt? Don't be scared, baby. Mommy’s here. No one’s going to hurt you anymore.” The relief was so immense I thought I’d drown in it. But as the words left my mouth, the room went silent. The boy in my arms stiffened. The boy in the designer clothes looked stunned. The teacher cleared her throat awkwardly. “Mrs. Ward... that’s Toby Thorne. Your son, Parker, is over there. Are you... feeling okay?” I didn't care. I traced the little boy's face with my fingers. He was a mirror image of me, but those eyes—those were Nelson’s eyes. Parker, the designer-clad boy, screamed in frustration and tried to shove me. “Madeline! Let him go! If you touch him, I’m telling my uncle!” That’s right. Parker wasn't Steven’s. He was the secret love child of Steven’s older brother. Steven had taken him in to curry favor with the family, and the intruder—desperate to play "happy family"—had claimed him as their own. She’d raised him as her "son" while my actual child was treated like a stranger. When Parker shoved me, Toby—the boy who hadn't fought back until then—suddenly lunged like a little lion. He was fast and fierce. The office descended into chaos. Parker was wailing, and I pulled Toby back. He looked at me, his eyes red and defiant. “Go ahead and yell at me,” Toby whispered. “I know you told me never to hit him. But my dad said a man has to protect his mom. I won’t let him push you.” For seven years, the intruder had pampered Parker and forbidden Toby from calling her "Mom." To the world, Parker was the beloved prince. Toby was the "unwanted" child from a broken engagement. “I heard his mom is just some gold-digger who left him,” people would say. And if Parker ever hit Toby, the intruder would defend him blindly. “Parker is younger! You have to let him win!” or “If you touch my son, I’ll make you regret it!” Toby had learned that his own mother would always choose someone else. He was waiting for the scolding. Instead, I took his small, shaking hands in mine. “Did you hurt your hand? Next time, use something to protect your knuckles, okay? We don't want you breaking a bone.” Toby’s eyes went wide. I brushed his hair back. “Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.” Toby’s lip wobbled. But he remembered what his dad said—men don't cry. 15 I felt a surge of maternal fury that made my blood boil. I turned to Parker, who was still faking a sob. “Listen to me, you little brat. I am not your mother. Your mother is the mistress your father keeps in the city. If you’re upset, go cry to him. Stay away from my son.” The room was dead silent. I didn't give them time to breathe. “And we’re not done here. You’re going to apologize to my son. And your 'uncle' is going to pay every cent of the medical bills and the emotional distress you’ve caused.” I tore the "perfect family" mask off right there in front of the windows where other parents were eavesdropping. “Oh my god,” a whisper came from the hall. “Parker isn't even hers?” “And she’s been treating the Thorne kid like garbage? How cruel.” Parker’s face went white. He wasn't used to this. “You’re lying! I’m telling Uncle Steven! He’ll kill you!” The intruder would have been terrified. But I wasn't her. I was Madeline Thorne. And I was done being a host for someone else’s mission. 16 “Mrs. Ward... I mean, Ms. Thorne... surely there’s a misunderstanding?” The teacher tried to play peacemaker. “Parker is usually so well-behaved. Toby was the one who lashed out today. Maybe we can just call it even?” That was the old routine. The school helped the intruder keep the peace. Toby looked at me, a sad, knowing smile on his face. He wiped his eyes and looked down. “It’s okay, Mommy... I mean, Madeline. You don't have to help me. I’m used to it. I tripped. It wasn't Parker.” He paused. “I won’t tell my dad.” My heart shattered into a million jagged pieces. My son. The boy I’d almost died for. I’d missed seven years of his life because of that intruder, and he was already so broken he was trying to protect me from the fallout of his own bullying. The fire in my head exploded. I pointed a finger at the teacher. “Call it even? How dare you.” “My son’s face is scratched to hell, and you want to call it even? Because the 'Ward' name scares you?” I pulled Toby closer, tears finally breaking through. “This is my son. He is my flesh and blood!” Click. The office door opened softly. I looked up through a blur of tears and saw Nathaniel standing in the doorway. He looked like he’d been standing there for a long time. Seven years. His eyes were red. My heart stopped.
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