The night Hannah died, her son showed up on my doorstep. “Mommy said if she had to go away, I should come find you.” “Auntie… do you know where my mom went?” His eyes, swimming with tears, were a perfect copy of Hannah’s. And just like hers, they made me want to slam the door. But as my hand tightened on the knob, text flickered in the air, scrolling past my eyes like phantom subtitles. [OH MY GOD, KID, ANYONE BUT HER! YOU’VE GONE TO THE VILLAIN! SHE’S YOUR MOM’S ARCH-ENEMY!!] [But the male lead has already met the new girl. He’s going to fall for her and forget all about his lost love and this kid.] [Ugh, I’m so sick of this trope where the dead wife becomes some untouchable saint.] [Poor Leo. He’s just going to go back to being bullied by the nanny, picked on by kids at school… Mom’s gone and Dad’s a ghost…] [He doesn’t even make it to first grade before he’s kidnapped and killed.] My motion froze. I stepped back, pulling the door open wider. “Get in.” 1 The comments weren’t wrong. Hannah and I were enemies. She was the long-lost Sterling heiress, the real daughter found after years of living in poverty. I was the usurper, the cuckoo in the nest who had grown up arrogant and entitled in her place. Ten years ago, Hannah came home to the Sterling mansion. Not long after, following a series of spectacular flameouts on my part, I was kicked out. The last time I saw her was at her wedding. The groom was the man who was supposed to have been my fiancé. I hated Hannah. “What’s your name?” “Leo Hayes.” The little boy sat across from me on the sofa, looking at me with a shy, blinking curiosity. An itch of irritation crawled up my spine, and my fingers twitched for a cigarette. I caught his wide-eyed gaze and forced the urge down. “Do you even know who I am, kid? Showing up here all by yourself.” Leo nodded, his small hands clutching the straps of his backpack. “I know.” “Mommy said you’re her sister. That makes you my aunt.” He looked up, his voice bright and clear. “Hi, Auntie Quinn!” That innocent, reedy voice. It was a ghost of Hannah’s. I was eighteen when I first met her. I’d just gotten home from school to find a girl in a faded t-shirt sitting on our living room sofa. A high ponytail emphasized the hollows in her cheeks, and the yellowish tint to her hair screamed malnutrition. The moment she saw me, her eyes lit up like candles. “Quinn,” my mother had said, her voice strained. “There’s been a mistake. We… we just found out. You’re not our biological daughter.” She gestured toward the girl on the sofa. “This is our daughter. She’s come home.” What a joke, I thought. Are we filming a movie? That was my first thought. It was followed by a tidal wave of panic, dread, and a white-hot surge of rage. I stared at the girl’s face—a face that was an undeniable, eight-out-of-ten echo of my father’s—and bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. She must hate me, I thought. Just as I hated her for existing. But then Hannah stood up, walked over to me, and timidly tugged at the sleeve of my blazer. “Are you… my sister?” That hesitant voice, those eyes brimming with a strange mix of curiosity and joy. It instantly cast me as the evil stepmother in some twisted fairytale. Because of that one question, I was allowed to stay. A charity case in the home that had been mine, living a life of leisure I no longer had a right to. I wasn’t grateful. I hated her. And when I saw the man I’d grown up with, my fiancé, look at her with an adoration he could no longer hide, I hated her even more. So on the day of their engagement party, I pushed her down a flight of stairs. And just like that, I was finally, officially, cast out of the Sterling family. Which is why I couldn't understand. Why would Hannah entrust her only child to me? My tongue slid over my back molars. Staring at Leo’s face, so much like his mother’s, was like swallowing glass. I looked away, my voice flat and cold. “Your mother and I were not related. I’m not your aunt.” “It’s late. I’ll take you home first thing in the morning.” 2 Leo was a good kid. So good, it was unsettling. He made the guest bed himself, the sheets pulled taut, and even folded his worn clothes into a neat pile on a chair. I leaned against the doorframe, watching him. I couldn't help myself. “Hey, kid. What’d your parents do, torture you? Why are you acting like a forty-year-old butler?” Leo’s hands stilled for a second. He looked up at me and offered a bright, practiced smile. “Of course not, Auntie Quinn.” “I just don’t want to be any trouble.” I was about to tell him to stop calling me that, but the phantom text scrolling in my vision caught my attention. [Poor Leo. His parents’ marriage was already on the rocks when he was born. The dad, Carter, barely came home once a week.] [Before the wedding, he thought she was so pure and sweet. After, he called it being reckless and unsophisticated. Men. They’re all the same.] [Carter’s parents looked down on Hannah, too. Said she had no etiquette, no class. They didn’t like Leo, either.] [My heart breaks for this little guy! Please, Villain Quinn, be nice to him! I’ll never curse you again, I swear!] I had assumed Hannah would be happy. After all, she’d gotten the storybook ending: the perfect match of status and a love she’d supposedly chosen. It had never occurred to me that her life would be anything less than perfect. Theoretically, I should have been thrilled. But for some reason, a heavy weight pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. My vision blurred. For a second, the small boy carefully folding his shirt wasn’t Leo. It was Hannah. I saw her, her lips pressed into a thin line, silently pouring tea for guests with her head bowed. I saw her standing frozen in a doorway, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. I saw a dozen other flickering ghosts of her that made my head spin. Leo’s voice snapped me back. I looked at him. “What is it?” “I texted my dad, Auntie Quinn. He said he’ll come get me in the morning.” “…Good.” I knew it was the right thing to do. The only thing to do. But my mind was a chaotic mess. The ever-present text floating in my periphery gave me a headache, and I threw myself onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow. In a state between waking and sleep, I felt myself pulled back to the day Hannah died. After I left the Sterling house, I’d lost all contact with her. That day had been completely ordinary for me—work, home, sleep. Simple. Until the phone rang. An unfamiliar number, but a voice I knew instantly. Except I’d never heard Hannah sound so weak, so fragile. “I’m sorry…” “Quinn… I’m so sorry…” Those were the last two things she ever said to me. Then, the line went dead. I turned on the TV later that night and saw her face on the news. The next morning, a sharp knock woke me up. When I stumbled out of my bedroom, the front door was already open. Leo stood there with his backpack on, and beyond him, a man I hadn't seen in years. Not in person, anyway. I saw his face on business news channels all the time. “Long time no see, Carter.” Carter Hayes frowned, his handsome, almond-shaped eyes filled with impatience behind his designer glasses. “What are you doing here?” Carter and I had grown up together. Before Hannah, we’d been close. In the blush of my teenage years, I’d even had a crush on him. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when we’d arrived at this place of mutual disdain. I suppose it was when he decided he hated my arrogance, and I decided I hated his fickle heart. “I was about to ask you the same thing, Carter.” My voice dripped with the old, familiar sarcasm. “Weren’t you two madly in love? Your wife is barely cold in the ground and your son is already on my doorstep.” His frown deepened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He just looked down at Leo. “Leo, Dad has a lot of work. Don’t bother me with things unless it’s an emergency, understand?” He straightened his tie. “I’m leaving on a business trip today. I’ll be back in a week.” Leo smiled and nodded. “Okay, Daddy.” But as he smiled, his left hand was unconsciously twisting the hem of his t-shirt. I watched their backs disappear down the hall and let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Hannah, you really raised a piece of work. He even has your habit of lying with a smile.” 3 After Leo left, my life went back to normal. Or it was supposed to. When I was first thrown out, I tried to find a job, but every door was slammed in my face. No one wanted to hire the disgraced Sterling heiress. So, I did the only thing I could: I built something myself. I started a small marketing firm. It wasn't a global empire, but it paid the bills. But for some reason, the image of Leo’s face kept popping into my head. I blamed it on those damn phantom comments that followed me everywhere. [Leo is so miserable… The nanny made green peppers again. He hates them, but she calls it ‘building character.’] [She finds new things he hates to cook every day. And Leo, who is already the most well-behaved kid, just thinks he’s not being good enough.] [Meanwhile, Carter is off chasing the new girl. The whole ‘she runs, he pursues’ game. Leaving Leo all alone.] [I can’t watch this anymore. Now he’s getting bullied at school. How can little kids be so cruel?!] [WHOA, WHAT IS THAT OLD WITCH DOING?! Is she going to hit him?! How dare she!!!] SCREEECH— The sound of my chair scraping violently against the floorboards silenced the room. My assistant, who had been in the middle of a report, looked up in alarm. “Is something wrong, Ms. Sterling?” “Something’s come up. I have to go out.” I grabbed my car keys and strode out of the office, cursing under my breath. Dammit, Hannah. I swear, I am in your debt for life. I knew Carter’s address by heart. I hadn't been there in years, but the route was etched into my memory. By the time I parked in front of the sterile modern mansion and banged on the door, the comments were exploding. [HOLY CRAP! The villain is here!? This wasn't in the original plot!] [Don’t tell me she thinks that with Hannah gone, she has a shot at getting back with Carter!!] The nanny opened the door, her movements slow and lazy. She blinked when she saw me. “Ms. Sterling? What are you doing here?” “Mr. Hayes isn’t home, you…” “Move.” I didn’t have time for her excuses. I shoved her aside and marched into the house. “Ms. Sterling! You can’t just come in here!” she shrieked, scrambling after me. “Ms. Sterling!!” I ignored her, my heels clicking purposefully on the marble floors as I headed for the stairs. Thanks to the comments, I knew exactly where to find Leo. I threw open the door to his room. He was curled into a ball in the corner, hugging his knees, his eyes vacant. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, and a series of bluish-purple marks marred the skin of his exposed arm. Fingerprints. He’d been pinched, hard. He looked like a cornered animal, and something in my chest clenched painfully. I took a deep breath, walked over, and held out my hand. “Come with me.” “But…” “You called me your aunt, didn't you? Let's go.” Leo stared, frozen. Then two fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. He reached out a small, trembling hand and placed it in mine. I pulled him to his feet and turned to leave, but the nanny blocked the doorway. “Ms. Sterling, you can’t take Master Leo!” “Get out of my way.” “Mr. Hayes left me in charge, he told me to take good care of the young master, I…” I was done listening to her bullshit. I lifted my foot and kicked her squarely in the stomach. She cried out and crumpled to the floor, clutching her middle. I looked down at her, my voice ice. “Even Carter Hayes wouldn’t dare try to stop me. Who the hell do you think you are?” I glanced down. Leo’s mouth was hanging open, his eyes wide with shock. For a fleeting second, I wondered if I was being a terrible influence. The thought vanished as quickly as it came. I’m Quinn Sterling. I’ve never given a damn what anyone thinks. I led Leo to my car, buckled him in, and peeled out of the driveway. On the road, I dialed Carter. “Carter Hayes. Since you clearly have no idea how to raise your son, I’ll be doing it for you.” “What are you talking about? Quinn, you…” I hung up, cutting off his impotent rage. When I looked in the rearview mirror, I saw Leo staring at me with pure, unadulterated awe. “What?” I snapped. “Auntie Quinn, you were so cool! Mommy would never dare talk to Daddy like that!” An image of Hannah flashed in my mind—soft, yielding, always trying to keep the peace. “That spineless woman? She wouldn’t dare talk to anyone like that,” I muttered. “Leo. From now on, you’re staying with me.” “Okay! Auntie Quinn.” This time, I didn’t correct him. 4 “Take off your shirt.” Leo clutched the hem of his t-shirt, shaking his head fiercely. I let out an impatient sigh. “Leo. Don’t make me do it for you.” We’d been in this standoff for a good ten minutes. I hadn’t realized a kid so small could be as stubborn as a mule. We stared each other down for another minute before he finally seemed to realize I wasn’t backing down. He lowered his head in silence and slowly pulled the shirt over his head. My mood soured even more at the sight of his thin, fragile frame. The scattered bruises—some old and faded, others fresh and angry—on his arms and back were infuriating. I considered myself many things, but a good person wasn’t one of them. I’d done plenty of awful things in my life, but I’d never, ever, laid a hand on a child. My fists clenched at my sides. I took a deep, steadying breath, furious that my kick hadn’t been harder. Leo peeked up at my face, then quickly looked down again, his hands twisting together in his lap. “I-I’m sorry…” His voice was as thin as a mosquito’s buzz. “What are you apologizing to me for?” I knelt down and began gently dabbing antiseptic on his bruises. He was so skinny. He didn’t look like Carter Hayes’s son; he looked like a child from a Dickens novel. With every bruise I cleaned, the weight in my chest grew heavier. He flinched as I worked, his voice barely a whisper. “Mrs. Gable said… I’m not a good boy. Auntie Quinn, am I being a bother to you?” My hand paused. I looked up. “Why would you say that?” His eyes, Hannah’s eyes, were shiny with tears he was desperately trying to hold back. He balled his little hands into fists. “I… I don’t eat all my food, and it makes Mrs. Gable mad…” His voice cracked. “And Daddy doesn’t like me, or else he wouldn’t always be away… And Mommy… she left because she didn’t like me, either…” He sniffled, trying to suck the tears back in. He wasn’t just the spitting image of Hannah; he had her damn personality, too. I finished cleaning the last cut in silence. The phantom comments were a chorus of pity and heartbreak. [Oh, Leo, sweetie, you’re not a bad boy!!] [My heart is shattered. They’ve completely broken this poor baby’s spirit.] [But she’s telling this to the villain. Quinn won’t get it. She hated Hannah.] [Out of the frying pan and into the fire. This kid has the worst luck.] [I don’t know… Quinn was willing to go get him and clean his wounds. Maybe she’s not all bad?] [Are you kidding? She almost killed Hannah. How can she not be a bad person?!] The debate raged on, but I ignored it. I calmly capped the ointment, reached out, and rested my hand on top of Leo’s head. He looked up at me, confused. “You’re not a bad kid,” I said, my voice even. “She’s the bad one. The one who forces you to eat things you hate just because she can. It’s a pathetic little power trip, that’s all.” “As for your parents…” I paused, trying to figure out how to explain a toxic marriage to a five-year-old. I met his innocent, confused gaze. Screw it. Kids don't need complexity. “Your dad may not be home much, but of course he loves you. Why else would he have come to get you himself that day? And your mom… why would she send you to me if she didn’t love you more than anything?” Leo blinked slowly, then gave a small nod. I knew it would take time for him to unlearn the damage, but it was a start. That night, Leo slept in my bed. Even in his sleep, his little hand kept a tight grip on the hem of my shirt. I studied his face in the pale moonlight slanting through the window, and I couldn't help but think of Hannah. The day she first came to the Sterling house, she’d asked if she could sleep in my room. I was so full of resentment and hatred that I refused to even speak to her, let alone share a bed. If I had made a different choice that day, I wondered, would we have had a different future? I didn't know. Leo’s preschool wasn’t far from my office, so I dropped him off on my way to work. As he got out of the car, he hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Around noon, my phone rang. It was the school. “Hello, am I speaking with Leo Hayes’s guardian?” “He’s been in a fight with another student! We need you to come to the school immediately!” [Oh no! How could Leo get into a fight with the female lead’s son?!] 5 I was suddenly very glad I’d had the foresight to save my number in Leo’s smartwatch that morning. When I arrived at the school, I found Leo standing ramrod straight, his eyes red and his lips pressed into a stubborn, silent line. Across from him, a little boy was crying his eyes out, a nasty scrape on his elbow. The teacher’s face lit up with relief when she saw me. “Leo’s guardian, you’re here.” “Hello. I’m his aunt, Quinn.” I gave the teacher a polite, tight-lipped smile. “What happened?” “Well… I’m not entirely sure. By the time we got here, Sam was already on the ground.” She wrung her hands. “It was probably just a little scuffle between the boys, so…” “Sam!!” Before the teacher could finish, a woman in a white sundress rushed into the room. She dropped to her knees in front of the crying boy, frantically checking him for injuries. When she saw the scrape on his elbow, her own eyes welled up. “What happened? Oh, baby, does it hurt?” This had to be her. The so-called "female lead." I studied her face, and I could finally see why Carter was so obsessed. She looked like Hannah. It was uncanny. So that’s what this was. He’d found himself a replacement. A short, bitter laugh escaped my lips. The woman’s head snapped up. “Did your child do this?” Her voice was sharp. “How do you raise your son? He’s so violent at such a young age!” At her shout, Leo flinched, and a tear finally escaped his eye. I moved instantly, stepping in front of him. “Ma’am, you don’t even know what happened, so how can you be so sure it’s our fault?” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I trust Leo. He is not the kind of child who starts fights.” Behind me, I could feel Leo’s intense gaze fixed on my back. “Are you saying my son is?” she shot back. She turned to her boy. “Sam, tell Mommy. What happened?” Sam hiccupped, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “I… I didn’t say anything! I just said I was going to the park with Mommy and my new uncle this weekend. And then… and then Leo just went crazy and pushed me down!” he wailed. “I didn’t do anything!” He dissolved into a fresh wave of tears, and the woman hugged him tightly, glaring at me over his head. “You heard him. My son did nothing wrong,” she said, her tone righteous. “I know it’s not easy raising a child alone, but that’s all the more reason to be diligent about their education.” She didn’t look that much like Hannah. Hannah was softer, more fragile, but she had a resilience to her, like a wildflower growing on a cliff face. This woman was more like a birch tree—pretty, but common. “Do you have any idea who he is?” I asked, my voice low. My intent was to remind her that Leo’s father was Carter Hayes. Clearly, she misunderstood. Her eyes went wide, and her voice rose an octave. “What, are you threatening me now?!” I was about to respond when a familiar, chilling voice cut through the air. “Anyone who hurts Chloe’s son will pay the price.”
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