The truth is, I’ve always been a bit of a vacancy. Those glowing credentials—the Ivy League degree, the classical piano trophies, the ballet awards—were all carefully curated illusions. My parents spent a fortune to build a gilded cage of a life that my slow, wandering mind could never have built for itself. While traveling abroad with my boyfriend, Toby, his personal assistant, Lena, insisted on sleeping in the same bed as us. She claimed the hotel was overbooked, her voice a fragile trill of anxiety. In the dead of night, she suddenly clutched her chest, turning to Toby with a pained whisper. She told him her cat, Lilly, was pregnant back home, and through some mystical "soul bond," she was experiencing sympathetic engorgement. She was in pain, she said. She needed relief. Without a second thought, Toby disappeared under the duvet. I heard the wet, rhythmic sounds of him "relieving" her. I watched, paralyzed by my own slowness, and asked why a cat’s pregnancy would make her chest hurt. Toby popped his head out from under the covers, his expression intensely earnest. He explained that Lena had raised Lilly since she was a kitten, that their bond was so deep it manifested as a psychosomatic resonance. It was science, he claimed. Lena chimed in, her voice breathless, telling me he was just being a supportive boss and that I shouldn’t overthink it. I nodded, a dull, obedient motion. My mother always told me: When you don’t understand, just nod. That night, I heard Lena whispering to something she called "The System." she wanted to trade her IQ for mine. She said with my "genius" and her ambition, she would finally become the goddess everyone envied. The System’s voice was a cold, metallic hum in the dark. It said the transfer would be permanent in seven days. She actually thought she was stealing brilliance. She had no idea she was trading her cleverness for a void. ... 1 The chime signaling the completed transfer echoed in the back of my skull. Suddenly, the fog that had blanketed my mind for twenty-four years began to thin. The world felt sharper, the edges of the room less blurred. Beside me, Lena moans grew louder, more theatrical. "Oh… Toby… that feels so good…" She caught her breath, letting out a sharp, jagged laugh. "Janice really does love you. Look at her. She isn’t even angry." Toby’s voice came from the depths of the blankets, heavy with a lazy, post-coital satisfaction. "Everyone thinks I’m the one who slaved away to win her over. Hah. They don't know shit." "From the start, she’s been nothing but a dog. Throw a bone, and she’ll fetch. If I tell her to move East, she wouldn't dare look West." "I don't believe you," Lena teased, her tone lengthening into a dare. Toby raised his voice, an edge of command cutting through the air. "Janice. Get me a glass of warm water." I stood up. I walked to the table. I poured the water, tested the temperature against the side of my thumb, and handed it to him. Toby took a sip, looking at Lena. "See?" "Try something else," Lena urged, her eyes gleaming with malice. Toby poked his head out again. "My underwear fell on your side of the floor. Pick it up and bring it here." I nodded. I knelt on the floor, fumbling in the dark. Once I found it, I handed it over. Toby smirked. "Told you. A well-trained pet." Lena voice was a cocktail of shock and pure, unadulterated disdain. "She looks so cold and untouchable, but she’s really just your little slave, isn't she?" I wasn't "cold." Since I was a child, my parents had one rule for me: Speak less. They said that if I opened my mouth, I’d lose everything. They told me I wasn't bright, and that silence was my only armor. Every time we went out, I stood there like a beautiful, hollow statue. Before this trip, Toby had reminded me: "Just follow me, keep your mouth shut, and don't embarrass me." When they told me to sleep on the sofa that night, I did so without a word. I stayed far away from that bed. I didn't want to be near them. They made my skin crawl. The next morning. Toby leaned against the headboard, sticking his bare foot out from under the duvet. He shook it slightly. "Put my shoes on for me." I stared at his foot. Suddenly, my brain felt like a dam breaking. Memories flooded in—vivid, stinging, and nauseating. I saw myself kneeling on the floor, massaging Toby’s feet while he laughed, rubbing his toes against my face like I was a common rag. A wave of visceral disgust washed over me. What a pathetic piece of trash. Seeing me frozen on the sofa, Toby’s voice dropped an octave, turning threatening. "Get over here. On your knees. Change them." "Don't make me lose my temper, Janice." I set my face into a mask, staring at him. Toby lifted his chin, his expression darkening, his eyes full of a cruel, predatory hunger. I picked up his leather loafer from the floor. Then, I slammed it directly into his open mouth. "Mmph!" His eyes went wide, bulging as he tried to spit it out. Before he could move, I lunged forward. I put every ounce of strength I possessed into a kick aimed squarely at his groin. "AAAAAGH—!!!" Toby curled into a fetal ball, clutching himself. His face contorted, a high-pitched, pig-like squeal ripping from his throat. "You! You stupid bitch! How dare you hit me!" I stood there, watching his agony. I let out a soft, vacant giggle. "Toby, I saw a new cartoon recently. Was that funny? Did I play right?" Lena woke up then, rubbing her eyes. "What is all this noise so early?" Toby’s body went rigid. He threw a poisonous look at me, then took a ragged breath, forcing his voice into something resembling a normal tone for Lena sake. "Nothing. She’s just throwing a tantrum. She wants to go home." His face was ghostly pale, but he didn't say more. He couldn't risk the world knowing he was tethered to a "slow" girl just for her inheritance. Toby reached out, trying to pull me into a forced embrace, his voice shaking with suppressed rage. "Going home early is a good idea. We need to get the wedding back on track anyway." 2 After we returned to the States, Toby said he wanted to take me to meet his "inner circle" at the country club. Before we left, he grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. "Remember: shut up. Don't humiliate me." Toby was wearing a bespoke suit my mother had paid for, driving my limited-edition supercar. When we arrived at the golf club, the usual crowd swarmed us. "Wickham! Look at you!" A guy in a loud Hawaiian shirt whistled, his eyes raking over me. "This the fiancée? She’s even more stunning than the photos!" "Stunning? She’s a work of art. Toby, you lucky bastard!" I saw Lena in the crowd. She was wearing a delicate white sundress, standing on the periphery, her eyes locked on me. "If you guys ever want to relax here, just give them Janice’s name," Toby bragged, slapping his friends on the back. "She’s an SVIP. Membership was nearly two hundred grand. Open bar, everything’s on the house." "Damn! Two hundred grand? You’re really bleeding her dry, aren't you, Toby?" "Bleeding her? No, he’s just a world-class gold-digger!" The guy in the Hawaiian shirt laughed, elbowing Toby. The laughter exploded around us. "Toby isn't the gold-digger." Lena voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the noise like a blade. The laughter died down. She took a step forward, her eyes fixed on mine, her voice dropping into a slow, deliberate honey. "Janice is the one who’s desperate." "Really?" Hawaiian shirt leaned in, looking from Toby to me. "So, is it true, Janice? Toby says 'jump' and you ask 'how high'?" Toby’s smile flickered, but he recovered quickly. He turned to me, gesturing toward Lena. "Janice, that bag you’re carrying is new, isn't it? A limited edition?" He paused, his tone casual, almost bored. "It’s Lena birthday today. Why don't you give it to her as a gift?" I blinked, looking at Lena. "Is it really your birthday today?" Lena froze. Her brow furrowed suddenly. "Wait… when is my birthday? I… I can’t remember." She shook her head, her fingers pressing hard against her temples. "My head. It hurts. It hurts so much." I watched her struggle, then asked with a look of pure, innocent concern: "Lena, is it happening again? Is it the sympathetic engorgement?" "Maybe Toby should help you 'clear the blockage' again. He’s so good at it. He really knows how to use his mouth to make the pain go away." "Holy shit, what?" Hawaiian shirt’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. He whirled toward Lena. "You’re pregnant?!" "I am not!" Lena face went translucent. She denied it with a shriek. I stepped in to clarify. "No, no. Lena cat is pregnant. They have a soul bond. She gets congested when the cat does." "Toby is such a kind boss. He climbed right under the covers to help her out so she wouldn't suffer. Right, Toby?" "What the hell are you babbling about?!" Toby lunged, cutting me off. "It was a joke! Can't you tell when someone’s joking? We were just messing with you! Jesus, you’re so dense." "Yeah, Janice, it’s a misunderstanding! Totally a joke!" "Toby’s a saint to his staff, but it’s purely professional!" The others rushed in to smooth things over, patting Toby’s shoulder and throwing me wary glances. I nodded slowly. "Oh. Okay. I’m not mad." Toby didn't let go of my arm. He squinted at me, his eyes searching my face. "Janice, you’re acting… different today." Before I could answer, Lena snapped. She lunged forward, snatching the bag off my shoulder with a violent tug. I stumbled back as she gripped the leather like a lifeline. She whirled toward Toby, stood on her tiptoes, and planted a heavy, desperate kiss right on his mouth. "Toby! I love you!" Her voice was high and manic. She clutched the bag, her eyes wild. "Thank you for the birthday gift! I love it so much!" The silence was absolute. Toby’s face turned a bruised shade of purple. He shoved Lena away so hard she nearly hit the grass. "Lena! Are you insane? What the hell is wrong with you!" Lena stumbled back, clutching the bag, her expression dazed, as if she didn't quite know what had just possessed her. Then, the tears started. She turned and fled. Toby shot me one last murderous look before chasing after her. The rest of the crowd exchanged awkward glances and began to dissipate. I stood there, feeling the fog in my head clear a little more. It was like a window that had been caked in grime for years finally having a small corner wiped clean. I walked into the clubhouse, heading for the private suite my parents kept on retainer. Inside the bedroom, Lena was huddled against Toby’s chest, completely unclothed, a look of pure, delirious ecstasy on her face. They saw me. But they didn't care. To them, I was just a dog that didn't know how to bark. I took out my phone. I recorded the video. I uploaded it to the cloud. My brain was still a bit fuzzy, but one thought was crystal clear: This will be useful later. 3 My parents sat Toby down to talk about the wedding. "Toby, let’s be blunt," my father said, leaning back in his leather chair. "Janice is our only child. One day, everything the Emerson family owns will belong to the two of you." Toby’s fingers twitched, but his face remained a mask of humble sincerity. "Sir, I promise you, my feelings for Janice are genuine." My father raised a hand, cutting him off. "We want to believe that. But rules are rules, for everyone's protection." "Before the wedding, you’ll need to sign a voluntary waiver of marital property. You will have a management role in the Emerson Group, but ownership and final authority will remain solely in Janice’s name." "We will provide you with a generous salary and an allowance—let's say, a hundred thousand a month—as a gesture of our trust." Toby’s knuckles turned white. Then, he looked up, his eyes glistening with faux emotion. "Sir, Ma'am… I can't accept that." "I didn't pursue Janice for her money. My family might not have what yours does, but I have my own two hands. I love her for who she is—simple, pure, and kind. I don't want the management rights. I don't want the allowance. I just want her." He spoke with such conviction, his eyes clear and honest. I saw my father’s stern expression begin to melt. "Good lad! You’ve got spine. I feel better knowing Janice will be in your hands." As soon as we were upstairs, Toby’s face went cold. He spent an hour furiously typing on his phone. When he went to shower, I opened his laptop. To "prove" his love, he had set all his passwords to my birthday. I saw the pinned chat at the top. [Did you see that movie about the guy who killed his wife? Men are so brutal. You wouldn't do that to me, would you?] [When those old fossils kick the bucket, the idiot gets everything. And she’s so obsessed with you, it’s basically yours anyway.] [Haha. Killing her would be a waste. Much easier to just get rid of the two old ones first.] I never imagined he was the one orchestrating the long game. 4 Today is the seventh day. The day of our engagement gala. In the mirror, I am a vision in white—a custom couture gown, my hair pinned up, crowned by a shimmering diamond tiara. The face in the mirror is beautiful, certainly. Perfectly arched brows, a delicate nose, rose-red lips. But the eyes were still vacant, lacking that vital spark. The fog had thinned significantly over the last few days, but everything still felt slightly muffled, like I was watching the world through a veil of silk. But I remembered one thing: I cannot marry Toby Wickham. My mother came in, smoothing my hair. "My beautiful girl." I grabbed her hand, and tears began to spill. "Mom, I don't want to get married." She froze, then pulled me into a hug. "Oh, sweetheart. It’s just nerves. Toby is so good to you. He’ll look after you when we can't." "We checked everything, Janice. His family is respectable—both parents were teachers. He’s a good man." "You’ll have a peaceful, safe life. That’s all we want." I marveled at how well Toby had fabricated his "wholesome" background to win them over. I cried harder. I didn't know how to explain it. The thoughts in my head were like small fish—darting close, then scattering into the deep. I couldn't catch the words. My mother just assumed I was scared and continued to soothe me. The gala was spectacular. The ballroom was a sea of glittering lights and expensive perfume. Toby, looking sharp in his tuxedo, stepped toward me. He dropped to one knee and produced a ring. "Janice Emerson, marry me. I promise to cherish you for the rest of my life." The crowd erupted in applause, chanting, "Say yes! Say yes!" I looked at the sparkling diamond, then at Toby’s smiling face. Suddenly, I remembered his voice in the dark hotel room. "...she’s nothing but a dog." I took a step back. I shook my head. "No." It wasn't loud, but in the sudden hush, everyone heard it. The smile on Toby’s face curdled. "Don't be silly, Janice. Everyone is watching. Be a good girl." I looked up at the massive LED screen at the front of the hall. "Look there," I whispered. I had intended to play the video of him and Lena. But that wasn't what appeared. The screen showed photos of Toby bringing me water, Toby draping his jacket over my shoulders, Toby smiling at me with "devotion." The MC’s voice boomed over the speakers. "Ladies and gentlemen, look at these precious moments—a testament to the unwavering love Toby Wickham has for Miss Emerson." Toby leaned in close, a cold, mocking smirk playing on his lips. His voice was a low hiss, meant only for me. "I knew you were up to something. I swapped the files hours ago." He looked at me as if I were a disobedient pet that had failed a simple trick. "Once we’re married, no more cartoons. No more trying these pathetic little stunts you learn online." "And no more phone. Do you understand?" I stared at his smug, triumphant face. Suddenly, there was a literal thrum in my brain. The fog that had muffled my world for eighteen years vanished in a heartbeat. It was as if someone had shattered the glass. Everything became blindingly, piercingly clear. I opened my mouth to speak. But a scream from the crowd beat me to it. "AHHHH—!!" A woman in a low-cut cocktail dress burst onto the stage. At the same time, a family of four stood up from the VIP table, their faces twisted with frantic energy.
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