My body had been a timeshare for "Players"—interdimensional travelers with one mission: seduce my husband and win over my son. For three years, they hijacked my life. But not a single one succeeded. The System finally gave up and dumped my consciousness back into the driver’s seat. The moment I opened my eyes, neon text floated in the air like a holographic Twitch chat. 【 Is this another Player? 】 【 Seriously? How many is that now? None of them can crack the husband. 】 【 I bet fifty bucks this one quits in a month. The difficulty setting on this family is broken. 】 【 I give her two weeks. 】 The "Feed"—as I called it—was buzzing, placing bets on when I’d flee with my tail between my legs. They didn’t know one crucial detail: I wasn’t a Player. I was the original owner. And no matter what Marcus had become in my absence, I wasn’t going anywhere. 1 I got dressed just as a knock came at the door. It was Martha, our housekeeper. "Ms. Evelyn, breakfast is ready. Please come downstairs." Ms. Evelyn? My hand froze on my cardigan. I glanced at the floating text. 【 Whoa, the new Player looks shook. 】 【 Why? Martha didn’t stutter. The title of 'Mrs. Vance' is reserved for the OG wife only. 】 【 Our male lead is savage. He figured out the first Player was a fake on day one and ordered everyone to call them by her maiden name. 】 【 Gotta love a man who knows his wife that well. 】 A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Marcus knew. He knew those women weren't me. I pulled on my coat, ignored the glowing commentary, and went downstairs. Breakfast was laid out, but Martha was still busy in the kitchen, preparing a separate tray. I sat down and sipped my coffee. The text scrolled faster. 【 Leo looks sick today. Martha needs to hurry up and check on the poor kid. 】 Leo was sick? Panic spiked in my chest. The Feed had taught me that the previous "Players" only cared about grinding affection points with Marcus. They ignored our son, Leo. Or worse, they tried to use him as a prop and got frustrated when his trauma made him difficult. I bolted from the chair and ran up the stairs. But on the third-floor landing, a heavy security door with a digital keypad blocked my path. I stared at it. We never had a security door here. 【 Look at her face. She’s clueless. 】 【 What’s she doing on the third floor? Trying to exploit the kid for points? 】 【 Too bad. The Firewall is impenetrable. 】 【 Only the male lead knows the code. Leo and Martha have fingerprint access. The Players usually give up here. 】 The Feed was mocking me, waiting for me to retreat. I pressed my lips together and reached for the keypad. 2 【 What is she doing? 】 【 Another fail incoming. The alarm is gonna trigger in 3... 2... 】 I punched in the numbers. The light didn't turn red. No alarm blared. Click. The lock disengaged. 【 WTF? How does she know the code? 】 【 Is she using a cheat engine? 】 Ignoring the chaos in the chat, I pushed the door open. The third floor was exactly how I left it. Someone had preserved it like a museum. I navigated the hallway by muscle memory and found Leo’s room. I knocked softly, then entered. The pale blue walls, the glow-in-the-dark stars Marcus and I stuck on the ceiling—it was all the same. A framed photo of the three of us sat on the nightstand. My son lay curled in the center of the king-sized bed, his face flushed an unnatural crimson. I touched his forehead. He was burning up. I frantically searched the room for the first-aid kit. I found it in the bathroom vanity, just where we used to keep it. Inside, I found mostly empty boxes of children’s fever reducers and cold medicine. My heart broke. He had been sick so often these past three years. 3 I found a thermometer. 102.2°F. "Leo," I whispered, shaking him gently. "Leo, baby, wake up." I pulled out my phone and called Martha. "Martha, tell the driver to bring the car around. I’m taking Leo to the hospital. Pack some oatmeal and bring it to us later." Martha hesitated on the other end, clearly confused by the command coming from "Ms. Evelyn," but the urgency in my voice regarding Leo made her agree. I hung up. Leo groaned, his brow furrowed in pain. I wrapped him in a thick coat and lifted him. "He’s so light," I whispered, my voice trembling. He felt like a bird in my arms. A seven-year-old shouldn't be this fragile. As I carried him downstairs, the Feed scrolled in my peripheral vision. 【 Of course he's light. The last Player kept 'forgetting' to feed him whenever Marcus was on business trips. 】 【 Yeah, if the kid didn't help her 'quest,' she punished him. 】 【 Remember the one who made him stand in the rain to pick hydrangeas? Because the profile said the OG wife loved them? 】 My grip tightened on my son. Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. They used my body to hurt him. I couldn't change the past. All I could do was spend the rest of my life making it up to them. 4 At the private clinic, the doctors got Leo hooked up to an IV. I sat by the bed, stroking his hair, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was so small. How terrified must he have been, seeing his mother’s face look at him with cold, calculating eyes? 【 This Player is acting... different. 】 【 Is nobody gonna talk about how she knew the third-floor code? 】 【 Guys... do you think the Queen is back? 】 【 If Evelyn is back, I’m gonna cry. 】 Knock, knock. I ignored the Feed and opened the door. Martha stood there, clutching a thermos. I took it and set it on the table. Martha didn't leave. She stood there, wringing her hands, her eyes searching my face. She looked older. Three years of protecting Leo from women wearing my face had taken its toll. "What is it, Martha?" I asked softly. "Is it... is it really you, Ma'am?" I paused. The Feed hadn't fully figured it out, but Martha knew. "How did you know?" The old woman’s eyes welled up. "Mr. Vance changed the lock codes. He said only two people in the world knew the combination to the third floor." The code was the date I told Marcus I was pregnant. I remember jumping into his arms, waving the test strip. "Yes," I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. "I'm back, Martha."
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