n his last life, Asher Pei, an orphan adopted into a wealthy family, married his childhood sweetheart from the foster system, Elara Vance. He thought their shared lonely pasts would allow them to find warmth in each other. He was wrong. After twenty years, he discovered she had always been in love with his best friend, Julian Thorne. Crushed by the betrayal and public humiliation, Asher died by suicide. He is reborn, given a second chance by a mysterious "System." This time, when his now-famous friend Julian proposes to Elara—knowing she's destined to become a world-renowned architect—Asher sidesteps his previous fate. He instead marries Seraphina Wilde, a beautiful actress who, in the last life, also met a tragic end. With a seemingly perfect marriage and a thriving career, Asher believes he's finally found happiness. He is wrong again. * 1. Asher Pei died of depression. The final days of his life were a torturous haze of rage and confusion. The internet was a cacophony of mockery, a global chorus laughing at the man who couldn’t even hold on to his own wife’s heart. His wife of nearly twenty years, the girl he’d known for forty, had been in love with another man all along. Asher couldn’t take it. He climbed over the railing of his fifteenth-floor balcony and let go. He was dead before he hit the pavement. A cold, mechanical voice buzzed in his mind. [Congratulations, Host. You have unlocked the "Rainy Night Truth" storyline.] *What truth?* Asher’s arm twitched. That voice again. It would pop up out of nowhere every time he hit some kind of narrative milestone, announcing a new plot point as if his life were a game. “Mr. Pei? Asher? It’s time for the investor dinner.” A heavy hand landed on his left shoulder, startling him. He turned to see his assistant’s smiling face. “You alright? You look like you didn’t sleep well last night.” Asher rubbed his temples. Why did he keep having that dream? Elara’s voice still echoed in his ears, sharp and cruel. *“I never loved you! It was always Julian! Always!”* He took a deep breath. “Let’s go. My father is probably getting impatient.” In his past life, just before he died, the System had asked him if he was filled with regret. He’d said yes. A vortex of light had swallowed him, and he’d woken up at eighteen, the day after Elara had rejected his first clumsy confession of love. He was lost in thought again, and by the time he snapped out of it, he was already seated at a large, circular table in an exclusive private club. The atmosphere was convivial. Asher dutifully stood to refill his father’s wine glass throughout the evening. The lead investor was a Mr. Tang, a man in his fifties with the constitution of an ox. He’d poured drink after drink for Asher’s father, who was now slumped in his chair, flushed and incoherent. Asher swirled the wine in his own glass, his eyes dark and empty, watching the bubbles rise and pop. The dinner didn’t end until nearly midnight. It was April in New York, but the air still held a wintery bite. The city, however, was a galaxy of light, the distant glow of skyscrapers and neon signs bleeding into the black sky. His father, emboldened by the alcohol, lectured him the entire ride home. “I know you’re worried about that Wilde girl, but you need to think bigger. You just need to manage that foundation project in Vermont for a couple of years. It’ll look incredible on your resume, silence any talk of nepotism when you take over as Chairman.” His father coughed, and Asher silently handed him a thermos of warm water. Sometime during the drive, it began to rain. As they crossed the bridge, the driver slammed on the brakes. The screech of tires on wet asphalt was deafening. Asher lurched forward, barely stopping himself from hitting the partition. “Looks like there’s been an accident up ahead. We’re not getting through.” The piercing wail of sirens sliced through the night. A police barricade was already in place. A moment later, a sharp rap on the window. A police officer was asking them to step out to give a statement. The moment Asher opened the door, a cold, wet wind whipped at his neck. He opened a black umbrella, shielding his face. He hated scenes like this—too loud, too chaotic. He followed the officer, but before they even reached the police tape, he heard a familiar voice cut through the rain. “Is it true? That you and Elara Vance are married? When did it happen? They said you pursued her for years, that it was love at first sight. Is that true?” The questions came in a rapid-fire burst, the last few words swallowed by a clap of thunder. He froze. That voice… Asher’s grip tightened on the umbrella handle. The alcohol still lingered in his system, slowing his thoughts. It had to be a hallucination. His wife, Seraphina, had just texted him saying she was going to bed. But the voice was identical. A sharp, inexplicable pain lanced through his chest, making it hard to breathe. He looked ahead, his eyes searching desperately through the flashing lights. There she was. A woman in an eight-centimeter heel, her body wrapped in a sleek, grey cashmere dress that clung to her curves. Her skin looked impossibly white against the dress’s sparkling trim. “Answer me, Julian!” she cried, her voice breaking. “You told me if I stayed married to Asher for three years, you’d leave her and marry me! Why did you break your promise?” The man across from her ground out his cigarette with the heel of his shoe. “When did I break my promise?” Julian Thorne’s voice was a low, lazy drawl, yet every word landed like a hammer blow. “You and Asher haven't been married for three years yet, have you?” “This was just a means to an end!” The woman—his wife, Seraphina—was staring at Julian with such intensity she didn’t even notice Asher standing just a few yards away. “A means to an end? You married Elara! How is this just a means to an end?” she pleaded. “Julian, she’s from the foster system! What can she possibly do for your career? I’m one of the biggest stars in the country! Why won’t you just look at me!” His assistant, noticing Asher’s strange stillness, whispered his name. “Mr. Pei… isn’t that… isn’t that Mrs. Pei?” Asher had been married to Seraphina Wilde for nearly three years. And only now, in this rain-soaked nightmare, did he understand why she had agreed to their marriage so readily. It was because of Julian. He’d never seen the famously poised and elegant Seraphina look so desperate. Suddenly, the electronic voice echoed in his head. [Warning, Host. If you die of depression in this life, you will be permanently erased.] In a flash, it all came back. The agony of his past life, the horrific end. He had already been reborn once. Why was he being forced to live through this kind of hell again? “Mr. Pei, are you okay?” Asher snapped back to reality. He walked over to the officer, gave a brief statement, and left. He couldn’t bear to stay. He tilted his umbrella up slightly, stealing one last look. Julian had lit another cigarette, blowing the smoke directly into Seraphina’s face. She coughed but didn’t seem angry. Instead, she playfully tapped his arm. “Stop it, Julian. You still haven’t answered me.” Julian tipped her chin up with his finger. “Who ever said you have to marry the one you like the most?” he purred. “Sometimes, the favorite isn’t the one you keep at home.” Julian Thorne. Asher’s high school classmate. His college roommate. A lightning flash illuminated Asher’s face, turning it a ghostly white. He turned and walked away. By the time he got back to the car, his father was asleep. The assistant glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Back to the family estate, Mr. Pei?” Asher just grunted in affirmation. He was exhausted. He’d pulled an all-nighter finishing a proposal, spent all day in meetings, and endured the dinner. Now this. Another word and he felt like his head would split open. The house was empty when he got there. Seraphina wasn’t home yet. A message pinged on his phone. It was from his old university professor. He squatted on the floor for a long moment before opening it. It was a long text. “Asher, have you made a decision about the director position for the foundation’s rural development project? I know it’s a hardship post, but it would be a phenomenal addition to your resume and would silence any critics when you join the Sterling board. The decision needs to be made today. This is a rare opportunity, and I personally hope you’ll take it. Of course, if you have personal reasons not to, I respect your choice.” A tear fell onto the screen, blurring the words. Asher wiped it away with his sleeve and replied. “I’ve thought it over, Professor. I want to go. Thank you for the opportunity.” He’d been considering it for a while. As an adopted son, a direct entry into the Sterling family business would be met with resistance from the board. This was a way to earn his place. He’d only hesitated because of Seraphina, worried that the distance would cause problems. He was dozing on the sofa when he heard a key in the lock. He sat up, his mind clearing, just as Seraphina walked in. “You’re still awake,” she said, kicking off her heels. She tossed her coat onto the floor. “I was asleep. A work issue came up. Then on the way back, there was that awful accident. The police held me for questioning, that’s why I’m so late.” Her story was seamless. Except for the part where she was meeting Julian. Asher could smell the lingering scent of her perfume mixed with the faint, acrid smell of tobacco. “Someone said they saw you with Julian Thorne,” he said, his voice flat. Seraphina froze, her jaw tightening. “Oh, right. I ran into him. He and Elara just got married, you know. Such big news, and we didn't even get to congratulate them. Especially since you and Elara grew up together.” Asher took off his glasses, his eyes narrowing. “Is that right? Seraphina, why did you marry me?” She was already on edge, and his question pushed her over. “Why did I marry you? For nothing! What could I possibly want? My fame? The publicity my name brings to yours?” “Seraphina, all I ever wanted was a heart that was true to me!” A wave of bitterness rose in his throat. Before he could say more, she cut him off. “Did you drink too much at your dinner? Are you even thinking straight? Talk to me when you’re sober. I’m exhausted.” The bedroom door slammed shut. The house fell silent. The clock read 3 a.m. Asher stepped onto the balcony, the cold air a shock to his system. He lit a cigarette, his mind racing. If Seraphina and Julian were in love, why did she die of depression in the last life? He remembered her final moments: imprisoned by Julian, her body decaying, her eyes wide with unseeing horror. And if Elara and Julian were in love, why was he stringing Seraphina along? None of it made sense. The wind, the distant rain, the vast, empty silence of the city—it felt like shards of glass in his heart. He absurdly called out to the System, hoping for an answer. There was none. He didn't know when he finally fell asleep. When he woke, the apartment was empty. Seraphina was already at a photo shoot. The doorbell rang. He ignored it. It rang again, patiently. “Delivery for Ms. Wilde. We have the gift she ordered.” *A gift? For whom?* Asher opened the door. The box contained an expensive, beautiful watch and a blue-and-black silk tie. “Ms. Wilde has exquisite taste,” the delivery person gushed. “Mr. Pei is a lucky man to have such a thoughtful wife.” The man’s smile faltered as he noticed the veins standing out on the back of Asher’s hand. “Mr. Pei?” “Today isn’t my birthday,” Asher said quietly. If he remembered correctly, today was Julian’s birthday. “My birthday was yesterday.” He hadn’t planned on celebrating. He’d told himself Seraphina was just too busy with work. But now he knew the truth. She hadn’t forgotten. She had remembered Julian’s. A bitter smile touched his lips. “Thank you for bringing this by.” He was calm, eerily so. He changed into a suit and prepared to leave for the office. His phone buzzed. Seraphina: Darling, I forgot to change the delivery address. That’s Julian’s birthday present. Dinner is at S Hotel tonight. Come with me. Asher’s fingers tapped the screen. Asher: No. 2. The “typing…” bubble appeared and disappeared for minutes. No message came. It wasn’t until Asher was pulling into his office garage that she finally replied. Seraphina: Darling, you and Julian were classmates, roommates. You didn’t even go to his wedding. Now you’re going to skip his 30th birthday? He’ll be offended. And you can’t expect me to go alone, can you? Elara will be there. You haven’t seen her in years. It would be too awkward if you didn’t come. Just hearing her name made it hard to breathe. He didn’t want to go, but Seraphina’s relentless texts wore him down. He finally sent back a single word: Fine. S Hotel was in a trendy downtown district. He was late due to rush hour traffic. As he reached for the door to the private room, he heard Seraphina’s voice. “Julian, getting married without even telling us? That’s not very friendly.” A chorus of laughter followed. Asher paused. Through the crack in the door, he heard Julian’s lazy reply. “I wasn’t marrying you. Why would you need to know?” Julian was leaning back in his chair, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, radiating a roguish charm that defied his tailored suit. Asher’s hand, clutching the gift bag, trembled. His gaze fell on Elara. She stood beside Julian, wrapped in a trench coat, looking as elegant and serene as a pale blossom. She offered everyone a polite, gentle smile. A wave of painful memories washed over him. In the last life, she had used that same gentle smile to deliver the cruelest words. He pushed the door open. “Gentlemen, it’s been too long. Julian, you’re as charming as ever.” Julian’s cool eyes widened for a fraction of a second before returning to normal. He jumped up, a wide smile on his face, and shook Asher’s hand. The atmosphere was thick with tension. Seraphina broke the silence, linking her arm through Asher’s. “Darling, what took you so long?” Her voice was a sweet, drawn-out purr. Asher laughed softly, raising her hand to his lips for a kiss, his eyes full of adoration. “Traffic was a nightmare. Did I delay you from giving your gift?” He handed her the black bag. Her smile faltered, but she recovered quickly. Waitstaff arrived with the first course, and the group gratefully returned to their seats. Asher gently removed his arm from Seraphina’s and took a seat across the large table. She followed, her smile never wavering. Later, Seraphina raised her glass to Julian. “To Julian. Happy birthday. A toast?” “Of course. After you, beautiful.” As she poured, her hand trembled, and wine sloshed over the rim, spilling onto Asher’s suit. He reached out, his cold fingers closing around her wrist. He stood. “Let’s toast the birthday boy together, shall we?” Seraphina smiled and grabbed a new bottle from the table, walking towards Julian. As she poured, she stumbled, and the wine splashed onto a decorative candle on the lazy Susan. The glass holder exploded with a loud pop. “Look out!” Seraphina screamed, instinctively grabbing Julian’s wrist and pulling him back. Shards of glass flew through the air. Asher threw his arm up, shielding Elara’s face. A large piece sliced deep into his forearm. Someone doused the small flame with water. “Are you okay?” Elara asked. It was the first time she had spoken all night. Blood snaked down Asher’s arm, staining the red string bracelet he always wore, before dripping onto the floor. He stared at it for a moment before lowering his arm. Seraphina rushed over. “Darling, are you alright? It’s all my fault. Let’s go to the hospital.” Asher’s eyes were dark with a self-mocking pain. A person’s first instinct never lies. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. A deep, cold sorrow enveloped him. He felt like he was submerged in ice water, shivering uncontrollably. He turned and walked out of the room. A second later, the door was thrown open again. “Darling, let me take you to the hospital! Julian was just closer, and I was holding the bottle! I never would have let you get hurt!” Asher looked at her and laughed, a hollow, empty sound. “Is that so? Don’t bother explaining. Seraphina, let’s get a divorce.” 3. “You’re in love with Julian, aren’t you? Why?” Asher couldn’t understand. Was he destined to repeat this nightmare? Last life, Elara loved Julian. This life, Seraphina loved Julian. Was there no escaping this cycle of pain? He pressed his hand to the gushing wound on his arm. “Just because I grabbed Julian’s arm, you want to divorce me? I don’t love him! How could I? He’s a married man, and so am I!” Seraphina’s explanation was a frantic tumble of words. “Let’s just go to the hospital, okay?” Asher’s hand was ice-cold. He was shivering violently. “Seraphina! Do you even remember my birthday? You’re not even trying to hide it anymore, are you?” Her eyes widened in realization. She’d forgotten. “Because you care more about Julian, my birthday doesn’t matter! Seraphina, he’s a married man! You’re a massive celebrity! What do you think will happen if the two of you end up on the cover of every tabloid? Do you have any idea what the breach of contract fees on your endorsement deals will be? Everything you’ve worked for will be gone!” She licked her dry lips. “I know, but we’re just friends. I remembered his birthday because he sent me an invitation weeks ago. I’ve just been so busy with work…” Asher turned his head, wiping a tear from his eye. “The personal shopper said you ordered his gift two months ago. It was a limited edition. You had them fly it in from Paris.” “Whether you’re just friends or not, you know the truth in your heart.” The room began to spin. Without another word, he collapsed. As he fell, someone rushed forward and caught him. “Asher!” a voice cried out. Her hand was sticky with his blood. Then, everything went black. He woke up to a bright room. “You’re awake. Are you feeling any discomfort?” a nurse asked, adjusting his IV drip. Asher glanced at Seraphina, who was dozing in a chair by the window. She woke with a start and rushed to his bedside, her face flushed, wringing her hands. “You’re awake.” Asher coughed, turning his head away from her. All he could see was the image of her from his past life—terrified, alone, decaying. The doctors had told him then that she’d been diagnosed with severe depression two years prior. “The divorce papers,” he said, his voice raspy. “I’ll have my lawyer draft them. You can ask for whatever you want.” The morning sun filtered through the leaves outside the window, dappling the room in a soft light. He raised his heavily bandaged arm to block it. “Why? Why are you talking about divorce again?” She’d thought he was joking last night. “You can’t just throw that word around!” “The rainy night,” he said, his voice cold. “I heard you and Julian. You only married me to get to him. Something about three years. Something about a broken promise. I heard everything, Seraphina.” She stared at him, her face a mask of disbelief. “How could you have heard? Were you testing me this whole time?” Her fingers grew cold. Her dress strap slipped off her shoulder. Tears began to stream down her face. “But you helped me so much. My career… I owe it all to you. We can’t get divorced. Your father… isn’t he pushing for a grandchild? Asher, let’s have a baby.” “The doctors said it would be difficult for me to conceive, but we could try IVF!” Asher closed his eyes in despair. “No,” he sighed. Then his voice rose, filled with a pained fury. “NO! IVF? Do you have any idea what that would do to you? Seraphina, just get out. I don’t want to see you again.” “Asher, are you really determined to do this? I admitted I made a promise to Julian, but you’re a good man! You’ve been so good to me!” “Get out,” he repeated, his voice like steel. “Asher, I am not agreeing to a divorce!” she declared. He just stared at her, a storm of emotions raging in his eyes. Her phone buzzed, and she finally left. Asher leaned back against the pillows, drenched in sweat. He called his lawyer. “Draft the divorce papers. And don’t hide it from my father.” There was a stunned silence on the other end. “Is this regarding Mrs. Pei?” “Yes. Settle the property division. Anything in her name, she keeps.” He had just hung up when the door opened again. It was Elara. He and Elara were both orphans, survivors of the same foster care system. He remembered her as a quiet, smiling girl who endured the other children’s taunts without complaint. He remembered the day he found her crying, her small face streaked with dirt and tears. They were the same, abandoned and bullied. He would never forget the day she’d stood in the sun and refused a wealthy family’s adoption offer. “No, I don’t want to go. I’m not leaving yet.” Her smile was like the spring breeze on a lake. They had been chosen by two different families on the same day. The night before they left, she had crept into his room, crying. “I don’t want to leave you, Asher. Will we ever see each other again?” He had promised her they would. Two lifetimes, and it felt like they were always just missing each other. He watched her walk in with a fruit basket and a bouquet of flowers, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. “Are you feeling better? Thank you, for last night. If it weren’t for you…” “I would have done it for anyone,” he said coolly. She just smiled her gentle smile. “Still, thank you.” He looked at her, his eyes filled with a universe of complicated emotions. “Why did you marry Julian?” She was quiet for a moment. “He saved my life. I had nothing to offer him in return, so he asked me to marry him.” “On the George Washington Bridge? A mugger snatched your purse and shoved you, and you almost went over the railing.” Her body went rigid. “How did you know that?” How did Julian know she would be on that bridge, at that exact time? There was only one explanation. Had Julian been reborn, too? Asher dismissed the thought. Impossible. “It was all over the news,” he lied. “Oh, right. It all happened so fast. I should have told you.” He remembered being quarantined in the hospital with a high fever as a teenager. He’d woken several times to see Elara there, asleep in a chair by his bed, her face tear-stained, completely unafraid of catching whatever he had. That memory was why, for years, he had forgiven her for everything. 4. Asher’s arm was healing slowly. Most of his work was moved to the hospital. One day, his assistant was sighed dramatically every few minutes. “What is it?” Asher finally asked. “Mr. Pei… there’s something I think you should know.” “Then don’t say it.” “Mr. Pei, your wife… she’s started the IVF process. She’s checked into the hospital.” “What? That’s insane! Which room?” “316.” It was a VIP suite, one floor below his. A nurse tried to stop him, but he brushed past her. “I’m her husband!” He threw the door open, and the sight before him made him want to faint. “Seraphina! Are you insane? Are you really going to throw everything away for that man?” Her dignity, her career, her health—she was sacrificing it all. It wasn’t hatred he felt, but a profound, agonizing pity. “Stop this! Stop it right now! Seraphina, you’re gambling with your life! What has Julian done to you?” Love was a terrifying, maddening thing. “I can’t stop. It’s the last step. Asher, please, just forgive me.” He collapsed onto the sofa. “Seraphina, if you could just remember your past, you would never love him.” If she could remember how he had imprisoned her, beaten her, used her. “He’ll be good to me this time. Asher, I just want a child of my own. Please, let me have this.” He laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “Fine. I’ll let you have this. I’ll let you have him.” He stumbled out of the room. In the hallway, he ran into Julian, who was returning with a cup of hot water, smelling of stale smoke. Asher snapped. He lunged, his hands closing around Julian’s throat. “I’m going to kill you! What did you do to her?” Julian just smiled, even as Asher’s fists rained down on him. Asher’s wound reopened, blood soaking through his bandages. It took two security guards to pull them apart. “Julian, you have a wife! Why are you doing this?” Julian spat out a mouthful of blood and grinned. “What are you going to do about it?” A nurse intervened. “Mr. Pei, you need to have your arm looked at.” Before he could say more, the System’s voice cut in. [Congratulations, Host. You have unlocked the "Difficult Labor" storyline.] *Another one about Seraphina.* He gave her room one last, long look and went back upstairs. The fight set his recovery back by another ten days. He didn’t even know when Seraphina was discharged. The divorce papers arrived; he signed them and had his assistant deliver them to her personally. After that, he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. Outside, the world was exploding. Seraphina was living with Julian in a downtown loft, their every move documented by paparazzi. They were photographed holding hands at the farmer’s market, kissing in the park. The photos would appear online and then be swiftly taken down. Seraphina didn’t seem to care. One day, Julian’s mother showed up at the loft. She was a frail woman with short, graying hair and glasses. “Mom? What are you doing here?” Julian asked, his body tense. His mother ignored him, her eyes fixated on the single queen-sized bed in the apartment. “The tabloids were right,” she whispered, her voice hollow. “It’s true.” She suddenly lunged at Seraphina, her hand connecting with a loud crack. “You have a family! How could you do something so shameless? Did you seduce my son?” Seraphina stumbled back, a red handprint blooming on her cheek. “I’m carrying Julian’s child!” she cried out. Julian tried to stop her, but it was too late. “Mom, listen to me, Seraphina—my mother has a history of mental illness, you can’t provoke her like this!” “I’m not provoking her! It’s the truth!” His mother stared at Seraphina’s stomach. “A child?” Her eyes turned a terrifying, bloodshot red. She snatched a fruit knife from the counter and plunged it into Seraphina’s abdomen. “This child is an abomination! It can’t be born!” she screamed, stabbing again and again. Seraphina was too shocked to even scream. She stared down at her stomach, at the sticky, wet warmth spreading across her hands. Two days. She had only known she was pregnant for two days. Tears streamed down her face as she collapsed. “Seraphina!” Julian screamed, finally snapping out of his shock. He pushed his mother away and fell to his knees beside Seraphina, pressing his hands to the wounds. He fumbled for his phone and called 911. His mother, looking at her blood-soaked hands, let out a piercing shriek and fainted. By the time the ambulance arrived at the hospital, Seraphina’s face was a deathly blue. Asher, who had been on his way out, saw the paramedics wheeling her in and froze. “Make way!” “Get the blood bank on the line, massive hemorrhaging! And prep for an emergency D&C, the fetus is gone!” Every word was a poisoned blade in Asher’s heart. He stumbled, catching himself on the wall. He saw Julian trailing behind the gurney, his face a mask of horror, and lunged at him. “What did you do?” In the last life, it had been Elara who had been wheeled in, covered in blood. Julian looked at him, his eyes empty. “Is this inevitable? Is there no escaping it?” Asher’s mind reeled. The storyline had changed. The System was silent. “Escaping what? Your fate of having women die for you?” Julian’s head snapped up. “What did you say?” “Last life, it was my wife your mother stabbed. This life, it’s my wife again!” “You were reborn, too?” The air crackled between them. It was a dual rebirth. “Since you were given a second chance,” Asher said, his voice raw with pain, “why didn’t you leave her alone? If you love Elara, why did you have to drag Seraphina into this? What do you want, Julian? Money? Was her death in the last life not enough for you?” The red light above the operating room door stayed on all night. Julian’s mother was sedated and moved to a psychiatric ward. Her Alzheimer’s had progressed; she had already forgotten the life she had just taken. When the surgeon finally came out, he had grim news. “We saved her, but the baby is gone. And… she’ll never be able to carry a child again. Not even with IVF.” Asher stood by the railing, watching, muttering to himself. *Julian was reborn, too.* It all made sense now. A blood-curdling scream erupted from the recovery room. “My baby! Julian, give me back my baby!” Seraphina was hysterical, slapping him, tearing the IV from her arm. Her eyes were hollow, filled with a terrifying, numb despair. “The nurse said I can’t have children anymore. Not ever.” “The baby is gone, Seraphina,” Julian said, his patience wearing thin. “Are you going to lose me, too?” “When are you divorcing Elara?” she shot back. “Were all your promises lies?” “I didn’t want this to happen! I didn’t know my mother would be there! If you hadn’t told her you were pregnant, she wouldn’t have snapped!” The accusation was a physical blow. Seraphina clutched her chest, doubling over in pain. “Get out! I never want to see you again!” Julian stormed out. Asher had his discharge papers processed. He went to Seraphina’s room, intending to get the signed divorce papers, but she was asleep, sedated and still. He left without a word. He packed his bags and called his father. “Dad, don’t worry about the rumors online. Don’t say anything. I’ll handle it when I get back from the foundation project.” “Go,” his father said. He thought it was all finally over. 5. Two days later, Seraphina was back at work. “Money is the only thing that matters now,” she told her agent. That morning, her eyelids had been twitching. A bad omen. After a taping, her agent approached her, his face grim. “I have some news. Don’t panic.” “What is it?” “Asher Pei is dead. He committed suicide.” She laughed. “That’s not possible.” “It’s true. It was instant. He drove his car off a cliff.” Her phone was blowing up. The headline was everywhere: “Sole Heir to Sterling Fortune Dies by Suicide.” The police had confirmed it. The rumors started immediately: his wife had cheated, she was pregnant with another man’s child. The most outrageous rumors are often the truth. “Didn’t someone see Seraphina Wilde covered in blood at the hospital a few weeks ago?” “It’s true. He was a billionaire. He must have been betrayed.” She didn’t care about the rumors. All she could hear was that he was dead. Really dead. She raced to the scene. The police had cordoned off the area. Rescue teams were searching the ocean below, but they couldn’t even find a body. His supercar was parked at the cliff’s edge, hazard lights blinking. It was clearly a suicide. Her hands trembled. She had driven him to this. The online hate was relentless. Her fans turned on Julian, demanding he be blacklisted. He lost his job and went into hiding. Seraphina completely fell apart. “This can’t be happening!” she wailed, curled into a ball in the corner of her apartment. Her agent brought a doctor. “Give her a sedative. Let her sleep.” She didn’t resist. She was so, so tired. When Asher saw the news, he was already in the small mountain village in Vermont. The air was clean, the scenery beautiful. The locals welcomed their new project director with a potluck dinner. Afterward, he scrolled through the news on his phone: Seraphina swarmed by paparazzi, Seraphina weeping at the cliff’s edge. He watched it all with a blank expression and then put his phone away. [Congratulations, Host. Ultimate objective achieved. The rest is up to you.] Asher smiled. “Thank you, System.” He had told himself he would not repeat the mistakes of the past.
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