🏋️ Fitness ads that are running right now

The night before our bonding ceremony, I heard my Alpha’s voice in another woman’s ear. Low. Soft. Almost intimate. He was singing Tessa Blythe a lullaby. The same Alpha who always told me, “Get out.” So I did. I packed my suitcase, left his house, and gave his Omega assistant everything she wanted. My dress. My ceremony. My Alpha. Ever since I was a child, the thing Alpha Silas Calder said to me most often was: “Get out.” We had been together for years. I always thought he was just cold, that he didn’t like talking to anyone. So I never took it seriously. Until the night before our bonding ceremony, when I heard the lullaby he had recorded for his assistant, Tessa Blythe. At the end of the recording, his deep Alpha voice carried a tenderness I had never heard from him. “Sleep, my moonbeam, close your eyes tonight…” I rushed into his study, ready to ask him what this meant. Before I could speak, his cold voice hit me again. “Get out.” This time, I didn’t argue. I turned and walked away. Silas didn’t know that after this “Get out,” I would never come back. I packed my suitcase and left the room. In the hallway, I ran into Silas coming out for water. He saw the suitcase in my hand, but his gaze only swept over me, indifferent. After drinking, he finally asked, “You were looking for me earlier. Something you needed?” My fingers trembled. So he knew I had something to say. And he still told me to leave. “Nothing,” I said. “I just wanted to tell you I made your favorite rosemary venison stew. It’s in the fridge. Don’t forget to—” His phone rang. Tessa’s laughter spilled from the speaker. “Alpha Silas, I got the lullaby. It’s really lovely. Thank you.” A smile crossed Silas’s face. One he didn’t even seem to notice. “As long as you’re happy. Rest early. You have work tomorrow.” I stood there, listening to him soothe another woman with patience he had never given me. That was when I finally understood. Silas Calder was not incapable of tenderness. He simply had none for me. Still, I said, “There’s stew in the kitchen. Remember to eat.” He didn’t answer. He only kept speaking to Tessa. “The bakery on Oak Street won’t open tomorrow. Don’t make a wasted trip.” Words he had never once said to me. Care he had never once offered me. My whole body went cold. “Silas,” I said. He ignored me. “Silas Calder.” He kept talking. “Let’s cancel tomorrow’s bonding ceremony,” I said. “You’re free now. You can be with whoever you want.” He finally looked at me. His eyes were full of irritation. “Liora. Be quiet. You’re too loud.” That sentence stung more than I expected. When we were children, I used to follow him everywhere, calling, “Silas. Alpha Silas.” He would always say, “Liora, you’re annoying. Get out.” But my mother, Marianne, told me that sincere love would eventually be answered. So I waited. When I came of age, Silas said, “Liora, I don’t want to waste time looking for a mate. If you like me, let’s be together.” No flowers. No confession. No warmth. I still said yes. I thought being chosen was enough. But even after we became a couple, every time I shared my day, he STOPS me. “Liora. Get out.” This time, I lowered my eyes. “Okay,” I whispered. “I won’t bother you anymore. I won’t like you anymore either.” Through the phone, Tessa’s cheerful voice rang out again. “Alpha Silas, listen! Someone’s setting off fireworks near my house!” Silas’s voice softened. “I heard. After you watch them, sleep early.” I wiped my tears and picked up my suitcase. When I reached the door, Silas’s voice came from behind me. “Liora. What did you just say?” I didn’t answer. I didn’t turn back. Because this time, I no longer wanted him to hear me. 2 **Liora’s POV** Silas Calder had always been called a genius Alpha heir. Top grades. Top of every training exercise. The pack elders were proud of him. I was different. Average at everything. When I was little, my mother often compared us. She said she wished I had half of Silas’s mind. I would protest, “Maybe I’m not as smart, but at least I hear people when they call me. Not like Silas.” Marianne would laugh. “Little Liora, maybe it’s not that he can’t hear you. Maybe he just doesn’t want to.” Back then, I refused to believe it. If Silas hated me, why did he protect me when other wolves bullied me? “Anyone who bothers Liora answers to me.” If he hated me, why did he defend me when people mocked my grades? “Liora isn’t stupid. She just hasn’t tried yet. I can tutor her.” But now I understood. My mother had been right. Silas could hear. My voice simply didn’t matter. I got into the car I had called. Not long after, Silas sent me a message. A rare thing. But he didn’t ask where I went. He didn’t ask when I would return. He only wrote: [I locked the door.] [Come back tomorrow.] The pain I had held back finally broke loose. The driver handed me a tissue. “Miss, don’t take it too hard. Go home. Sleep. Tomorrow still comes.” He was right. Tomorrow would come. And this time, I would not spend it waiting outside Silas Calder’s door. By the time I reached Silverpine Pack house, it was already ten at night. My parents, Garrett and Marianne, had gone to sleep. I carried my luggage to my room alone. The next morning, when they saw me, they were shocked. “Liora, when did you come back?” “Last night.” My voice was hoarse from crying. Marianne noticed immediately. “Did you and Silas fight? But he’s so cold. How could he even fight with you?” Silas never fought with me. He only went silent, because he knew I would always be the one to bow my head first. But not this time. I looked at my mother. “Mom, I’m not marrying Silas anymore. Return all the bonding gifts from the Blackthorne Pack.” Marianne froze. Garrett frowned. They kept asking why. So I told them. “I don’t want to marry an Alpha who doesn’t have me in his mind.” I was the daughter they had raised with love. The Hart Family had never let me suffer like this. Why should I choose an Alpha who didn’t love me and spend my life walking on eggshells? Marianne tried to persuade me at first. “If Silas didn’t like you, why would he agree to the bond?” Then I told her about the lullaby. Her face went cold instantly. “Call it off. It must be called off. The bonding ceremony is tomorrow, and he’s recording lullabies for his assistant? Who knows what he’ll do next?” Garrett’s face darkened too. He immediately contacted the Blackthorne Pack and returned every gift from the Calder Family. I called the ceremony planner. Before I could cancel, she spoke first. “Miss Hart, Alpha Silas handed all ceremony arrangements to his assistant. If you have ideas, please discuss them with Miss Blythe.” My fingers tightened. She added, “Also, your custom wedding dress arrived from overseas. Alpha Silas said you were unavailable, so he had Miss Blythe try it on first. I’ll send the video.” The video came seconds later. Tessa wore the wedding dress meant for me. And it fit her perfectly. A staff member adjusted the train and praised her. “Mrs. Calder, this dress looks made for you. Alpha Silas will surely love it.” Tessa smiled at the camera. “I do wish I really were Mrs. Calder. It’s just that someone won’t give me the chance.” Then Silas called her. She put him on speaker. “When I become a bride, I hope I can wear a dress this gorgeous.” Silas’s voice came through, carrying faint amusement. “That day will come.” I stared at the screen. Then I dropped the idea of canceling the ceremony. Since Silas liked his Omega assistant so much, I would give them my blessing. 3 **Liora’s POV** I had been home for two days. Silas hadn’t called once. Just when I thought he had forgotten me, he sent one message. [Are you done playing? Come back.] When I said we were done, he acted like he hadn’t heard. When I left with my luggage, he looked right through me. For a second, I wanted to ask what I meant to him. But I already knew the answer. He would only say, “Liora, stop being unreasonable.” If I argued, he would say, “Get out.” So I didn’t reply. Instead, I bought plane tickets for my parents and me to the France Pack, departing in three days. It was where I had planned to spend my honeymoon with Silas. I had spent a month arranging everything. Hotels. Restaurants. Museums. A route along the Seine. The best place to watch fireworks. I had written it all down and placed it on his desk, hoping he would care. He glanced once and threw it away. “Liora, stop bothering me. Get out. Or the honeymoon is canceled.” Back then, I told myself he was only busy. Now I understood. He simply didn’t want to go with me. Fine. Then I would go with people who actually loved me. My parents agreed without hesitation. That night, Tessa called. Her voice was sweet. “Miss Hart, where does Alpha Silas keep his personal clothes? I’ve looked everywhere.” My body went cold. Silas was obsessed with personal space. Even close Blackthorne Pack friends were not allowed into his bedroom. But Tessa was different. She could enter his room. She could receive his lullabies. She could stand inside the home that was supposed to become mine. “Ask him yourself,” I said. “He knows.” Tessa laughed softly. “Alpha Silas is recording today’s lullaby for me right now. I don’t want to disturb him.” Today’s lullaby. So it was not once. It was every day. She continued lightly, “Also, Alpha Silas put me in charge of tomorrow’s ceremony. If you have ideas, contact me. But preferably not at night. I don’t sleep well. And I wouldn’t want to disturb Alpha Silas either.” Her apology sounded like victory. I said, “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.” Then I hung up. The screen faded back to my wallpaper. It was Silas at eighteen, standing on the training grounds after winning the Alpha trial. That day, I handed him water, and for once, he didn’t refuse. He even said, “Thank you.” I had treasured that moment for years. Now, I deleted it. Every photo. Every chat. Every voice message. Every trace of Silas Calder. Then I changed all my wallpapers to photos of myself. From now on, I would never love Silas Calder again. I would only love myself. 4 **Liora’s POV** At midnight, Silas sent another message. [Be at Moonlit Hall on time tomorrow.] [Don’t be late.] He hated being stood up. Once, we planned to visit the Pack Museum. That morning, I was too sick to get out of bed and texted him to explain. He didn’t reply. After I recovered, I found he had deleted all my contact information. I spent a month coaxing him before he added me back. Back then, he said, “I don’t like people who stand me up. Liora, you’re no exception.” Thinking of the old me, the one who had clung to him with no pride, I laughed at myself. This time, I still didn’t reply. Not long after, a grand fireworks show went viral across Blackthorne Pack social platforms. Silver-blue fireworks lit up the sky. Then seven huge words appeared: [Happy Birthday, Tessa Blythe.] I opened the comments. [Is this some Alpha celebrating his little Luna’s birthday?] [No. I heard it’s tragic. Alpha Silas has a bonding ceremony tomorrow with the childhood friend who’s been chasing him forever.] [So he gives the ceremony to the girl he doesn’t love, and saves all the romance for the one he does.] [Someone show that childhood sweetheart.] [Give the dress back to Tessa and Alpha Silas. They’re the ones truly in love.] My eyes burned. They were right about one thing. Silas had given me an empty ceremony. He had given Tessa tenderness, romance, attention—everything I had begged for and never received. But they were wrong about another thing. This bond had not been forced by our families. Silas was the one who proposed we be together. Silas was the one who proposed the bonding ceremony. And now, I was the one walking away. The next day, Moonlit Hall was packed with guests from both the Blackthorne Pack and the Silverpine Pack. Since morning, Silas kept checking his phone. Every message he sent me sank without response. Unease touched his face. Just as he was about to call, someone clapped his shoulder. “Silas, nervous? Relax. Liora Hart has been chasing you since childhood. She can’t live without you. She’ll come.” Silas’s expression settled. Time passed. The ceremony began. Silas stood on the platform, cold as ever. No joy. No nerves. Then the officiant announced the entrance of the Luna. The great white doors opened. And Tessa Blythe appeared in a wedding dress. My wedding dress. She held moon roses and walked toward Silas step by step. The dress fit her as if it had been made for her. Silas’s expression changed. Calm. Confusion. Shock. He stared at her. For the first time, his voice broke. “Why is it you?” His gaze swept past her toward the doors. “Where is Liora?”

😣 That sharp pain below your kneecap after every run or squat tells you it's time for real support. grab it before the clock runs out. ⚡ 8mm V-shaped shock-absorbing pad targets the patellar tendon, reducing pressure during high-impact activities. 💨 3D airflow grooves actively release heat and sweat – your knee stays cool, dry, and itch-free. 🎯 Dual-buckle system gives you a secure, adjustable, non-slip fit. Customize compression to your exact need. 🧼 Premium silicone is soft, flexible, and gentle on skin – no chafing, no irritation. 🏃 Ultra-lightweight and flexible – zero restriction on your range of motion. Perfect for running, hiking, gym, or daily wear. 📦 Includes 2 straps (Blue, Gray, Black). One size fits most. #PatellaBrace #KneePainRelief #ShockAbsorbingKneeStrap #BreathableKneeSupport #AdjustablePatellaStrap #RunningKneePain #JointPainHelp #SiliconeKneeBrace #FitnessEssentials

Fühle dich stark und unaufhaltsam mit Militär-Workouts 💪 Dieses 7-minütige Workout ist einfach und leicht nachzumachen. Es hilft dir, Fett zu verbrennen, Muskeln aufzubauen und dich rundum besser zu fühlen. 1️⃣ Mache ein kurzes Quiz 2️⃣ Erhalte deinen personalisierten Trainingsplan 3️⃣ Fühle dich schon nach 4 Wochen stärker und fokussierter! ⚡

😣 That sharp pain below your kneecap after every run or squat tells you it's time for real support. grab it before the clock runs out. ⚡ 8mm V-shaped shock-absorbing pad targets the patellar tendon, reducing pressure during high-impact activities. 💨 3D airflow grooves actively release heat and sweat – your knee stays cool, dry, and itch-free. 🎯 Dual-buckle system gives you a secure, adjustable, non-slip fit. Customize compression to your exact need. 🧼 Premium silicone is soft, flexible, and gentle on skin – no chafing, no irritation. 🏃 Ultra-lightweight and flexible – zero restriction on your range of motion. Perfect for running, hiking, gym, or daily wear. 📦 Includes 2 straps (Blue, Gray, Black). One size fits most. #PatellaBrace #KneePainRelief #ShockAbsorbingKneeStrap #BreathableKneeSupport #AdjustablePatellaStrap #RunningKneePain #JointPainHelp #SiliconeKneeBrace #FitnessEssentials

🇺🇸🎆 4TH OF JULY BOGO SALE 🎆🇺🇸 For every bottle of Renew you buy today... You get ONE FREE. A simple before-bed ritual designed to support: ✔ Deep sleep ✔ Nightly recovery ✔ Healthy metabolism ✔ Better morning energy The more you buy, the more you save. 👇 Tap "Learn More" and take advantage of our 4th of July BOGO offer before it's gone!

Relaxed shorts with a plaid texture and easy straight fit through the leg. The elastic waist and above-knee length make them simple to wear without looking like gym shorts.

🍑 Sculpt a lean, toned body in just 15 min a day — no gym, no equipment 🧘‍♀️ ✨ Stronger core · 🦵 toned legs & glutes · better posture 👉 Take the quick quiz for your plan

If you’re starting in eyelash extensions, training makes all the difference. But it’s not just about any kind of training. When you practice with a method, your coordination improves, your technique becomes more secure, and your client appointments become more confident. Lash Training 360 was created to help beginners strengthen their foundation with a theoretical guide and practical exercises. You can train at your own pace, at home, as many times as you want. Start with the basics done right. Tap “Learn More” and get the complete material.

They stripped her of everything—her name, her love, her place in the family. But when the truth came out, they realized the “country girl” they cast away owned half the nation’s wealth. ===== Chapter 1 Kicked Out Of Home Nicolas Kirk's hand trembled as he flung the bowl at Rylie Kirk's feet, the crash ringing out across the room. Bl**d stained his lips while fury contorted his face. "How could you do such a thing? What kind of sister would wish harm on her own brother?" he said, his words splintered by a violent cough. "I should've listened to Stacey. She warned me about the poison!" Rylie's expression flickered as she looked down at the ruined medicine, disappointment shadowing her features. "I keep telling you, Nicolas, there's nothing deadly in the medicine. It contains an ingredient that purges the old bl**d, which you need if you ever want to recover," said Rylie. Watching the medicine soak into the carpet, she winced inwardly, knowing how much effort and money she had poured into finding the right remedy for her eldest brother. Stacey Kirk, the adopted daughter of the Kirk family, stood at Nicolas' side, her arms wrapped protectively around the medical text that she always carried. She raised her voice, tears prickling at her eyes. "Please, Rylie, just stop making excuses. Leland ran tests on your concoction, and the results were dangerous. It's full of toxins!" Cold skepticism crossed Rylie's face as she met Stacey's gaze. "You complete f**l," Rylie said. "There isn't a medicine in this world that's entirely safe, especially not for what Nicolas is suffering from. The only way to fight back is with a powerful dose. There's nothing mild that could work on him." Stacey could barely contain her tears, her voice quivering as she pleaded with Rylie, "He's spitting up bl**d right in front of us, and you're still insisting this is the only way? We're just medical students, Rylie, not miracle workers. Don't put your pride above Nicolas' life." Taking a shaky step toward Rylie, Stacey continued, her words thick with emotion, "I found a well-known specialist. He's already written a prescription that might actually save Nicolas. Admit you were wrong and let us try. Please." Nicolas doubled over, hacking up bl**d, and fixed Rylie with a glare that burned with outrage. "It wasn't enough that you fed me that mystery medicine, now you turn on Stacey too? If you had even a fraction of her compassion, things wouldn't have come to this," Nicolas snapped. "Apologize to her, right now!" Rylie straightened her shoulders and faced Nicolas with an unflinching stare. "All I ever wanted was to help you. I have done nothing that warrants an apology. I owe her nothing." Desperation twisted Nicolas' features as he scrambled to his feet, snatching a whip from the wall in a blind rage. "That's it! You're going to push me into an early grave! Why can't you ever listen?" he shouted. "Get out! I don't want you here!" Before the whip could lash out, Rylie shifted away, nimble and unafraid. From the upper landing, someone's measured steps echoed, and a battered backpack landed at her toes. Leland Kirk, her second brother, stood at the base of the stairs. His tone cut through the air. "Let's lay it out plainly. You're just an outsider, and Stacey is our true sibling. We've kept this secret for your sake, hoping you wouldn't resent her, but today, we see just how cruel you can be. If you refuse to admit your mistakes, pack your things. We'll announce Stacey as our one and only sister. Your fortune goes with your name -- you'll have to go back to your birth family and live as they do." Such a threat didn't faze Rylie. Years of living in the Kirk household had worn down her patience. However, the revelation that she was not bound to them by bl**d came almost as a blessing. Her ch**t felt unburdened, lighter than it had in years. There was no need to waste any more of her knowledge or talent on a house that never valued her. The thought had struck her as odd -- she always wondered why she stood out among siblings who never seemed to measure up. "That suits me just fine." Rylie's voice held not a hint of regret. With quick fingers, she snatched up the backpack, plucked a candy from the bowl, and let it dissolve on her tongue as she strode for the door. Left in the hallway, Stacey could not hold back a grin of satisfaction. Five years of plotting had finally paid off. With Rylie gone, she would be the Kirk family's prized daughter, adored and indulged by her brothers. Still, she could not resist a final performance. She darted after Rylie, her voice ringing out. "Rylie! Don't leave like this! You'll always have a place here! Please, don't make me feel like the villain. I'm begging you!" Nicolas interjected sharply, "Enough, Stacey! Let her go. A heart as cold as hers belongs to her own impoverished family. She never deserved this home." A cold laugh escaped Rylie when she overheard him. Was everyone in the Kirk family so easily fooled? Did they genuinely believe that it was sheer luck that had brought Nicolas back to health, gotten him out of bed, and made him able to walk again? Without her hands and her medicine, they'd see soon enough just how far good fortune could take him. Drawing the hood over her head, Rylie let the breeze whip strands of hair across her vivid lips, a flicker of scorn glinting in her eyes. ... Far away, inside the bustling capital city of Kouhron, the imposing Owen Mansion stood as a symbol of influence and wealth. Within that opulent hall, Kendrick Owen struck his ornate cane against the marble floor. "You all promised she'd been located. Why is she still not here?" Arrayed around him stood his three grandsons -- each a commanding presence in his own right, men whose names carried enough weight that even the highest government officials paid their respects. Yet, despite their stature, the shadow of their missing youngest sister dimmed their confidence, and their faces bore deep lines of worry. "Our search stalled in Crolens. According to the latest report, she spent some years in a mountain village, but after being trafficked, her whereabouts vanished from every record." Agony creased Kendrick's expression. "For eighteen years, that child has been gone. Imagine the hardships she's endured in a place like that." "Grandfather, there's been progress. One of the kidnappers came forward and claimed she was later sold to a rich woman in Crolens. We only need a bit more time -- her discovery is within reach." Relief softened Kendrick's features. No trace of irritation remained as he rose from his chair, hope radiating from his gaze. "In that case, let's not delay. I'm coming with you. We'll search together." Chapter 2 Versatile Rylie A heavy backpack slung over her shoulder, Rylie walked out of the Kirk residence without a backward glance, heading directly to the parking lot where her prized, limited-edition motorcycle waited. Years of downplaying her skills and masking her sharpness for the sake of the Kirk family's fragile peace were finally behind her. Freedom now tasted real. Down the city streets, her motorcycle roared, slicing through the afternoon air until she arrived at the imposing entrance of a gated community near a military compound. At the checkpoint, security protocols ran tight as always, but the instant Rylie's motorcycle appeared, the guard broke into a broad smile and opened the gate wide. "Miss Kirk, your visits are always a welcome surprise." With a practiced motion, Rylie flipped up her visor and gave a polite nod. Inside, cherry blossom petals scented the breeze, and several retired officers meandered beneath the blooming trees. Spotting her approach, they made their way over. "Look who's back -- Rylie, I was just about to see you. I've run out of those pills you mixed up for me last time." Her motorcycle came to a halt as she peeled off her helmet, her gentle features drawing nods of approval. "You can swing by the clinic tomorrow. I'll be here all day if you need a refill." Catching sight of another familiar face, she gestured toward an elderly man still sporting a neck brace. "As for you, I've told you before that brace is only making things worse for your neck." An embarrassed grin spread across his face as he removed the brace. "Would you at least allow me to try a few easy exercises?" "Take it slow, and don't do anything reckless," said Rylie, stepping inside an apartment building. Long ago, her connection to this community began unexpectedly. During a visit to the Military General Hospital to buy medicine, she had encountered an elderly man suffering from epilepsy. With a prescription that targeted his condition at the root, she gave him relief that no other doctor had managed. That stranger turned out to be a celebrated, now-retired clinical specialist. Awed by Rylie's abilities, he insisted on calling her his savior and offered her an apartment in the community as thanks. Easy rapport filled the community, and its prime location made life peaceful and convenient. In time, Rylie had come to see this place as the home that she had always needed. As soon as she stepped inside her apartment, lights flickered on and a soft, familiar mechanical voice greeted her. "Welcome home, Rylie. You've been gone for three days. There are two encrypted voicemails waiting, your email inbox has new messages, and your bath is ready." Her backpack landed with a thud on the floor, sending the zipper flying open. A thick bundle of cash spilled out, scattering across the entryway. She stared at the pile of bills, guessing that it must total around ten grand. The sound that escaped her lips was half a chuckle, half a sneer. Was that really all the Kirks thought she was worth, tossing money her way like she was some beggar? "Play my messages," she said. Britton Davies' voice filled the room first, recorded late the previous evening. "Hey, Rylie, registration for the relay's almost up -- two practice runs down already! Are you honestly still clinging to the Kirks? For real? I've been wiping the floor with Phillip these past few days!" A slight arch in her brow gave away her recognition. Phillip Kirk, her third brother, ran one of the most exclusive racing clubs in the world, churning out champions and stacking up prize money. Long nights spent behind the wheel were her secret, pushing his team to one victory after another. Yet each season, as the finals approached, Phillip would swap her out for Stacey, handing over the glory and the gold. Year after year, her skills powered their success, but when the spotlight appeared, Stacey was ushered in for the celebration, leaving Rylie invisible to the crowd. Trophies meant little to her. In those days, protecting her family's ego mattered more. But now... A grin spread across her face as she called Britton. "I want half of the prize money." Whatever disappointment Britton had felt vanished at once. "Done! Phillip's team doesn't scare me. I've mapped out every move they make, but when you're behind the wheel, nobody can keep up. I never lose to him, Rylie -- I always lose to you!" A small laugh escaped Rylie as she let out a soft sigh. "You've noticed it too. Funny how obvious it is, but they still manage to overlook everything I do." Curiosity lit Britton's voice as he switched topics. "By the way, something else came up. There's been chatter on the dark web about the Owen family -- the wealthiest folks in Kouhron. Word is, they're here in Crolens, searching for their missing daughter and throwing around serious money for information. Think we should get involved?" Without hesitation, Rylie answered, "No interest. I have finals coming up, so I'll pass. See you." On Britton's end, confusion crept in. Of all the reasons to bail, exams were the last thing that he would expect from Rylie. As far as he could recall, she never even showed up for tests. The truth was, she was the one who wrote them. Chapter 3 Invitation Rylie moved on to the next voicemail, which turned out to be from Rory Carter, one of the most respected physicians at the Military General Hospital. A note of flattery colored Rory's tone as he spoke. "Rylie, I'm really in a bind. One of my old friend's sons has battled a rare illness for years, and his health is declining again. Those special pills you provided aren't helping him any longer. Is there any chance you could stop by and take a look?" Pulling out her phone, Rylie dialed him back. "I'll come to the clinic after classes tomorrow evening. Tell him to swing by then." Rory cut in with an apologetic sigh, saying, "He's stuck in the VIP wing at the hospital, and strict protocols mean he can't leave." Drumming her fingers on the tabletop, Rylie pressed for details. "Enough stalling, Rory. Who's the patient?" After a pause, Rory's voice dropped to a whisper, saying, "It's Brad Morgan. Yes, the grandson of General Sean Morgan. This isn't just any case -- the Morgans have discreetly reached out to top doctors nationwide. They're offering twenty million dollars to anyone who can cure him." An arched eyebrow was all the reaction Rylie gave. The Morgan family was legendary, led by Sean Morgan, a formidable general. He was a man even the President deferred to. The name Brad Morgan brought back memories -- she remembered reading about him in the news. Only thirty and already hailed as the youngest admiral of his era, his string of military victories made headlines everywhere. That revelation puzzled Rylie. Something could actually bring down a man like Brad? Her next move was to check her encrypted contract inbox, and sure enough, there sat an official invitation from the National Healthcare Department. Working under the codename "Healing Hand" on the dark web, she had built a reputation for tackling medical mysteries, and eventually gathered an elite team of her own. It seemed natural that the government would come looking for her. Keeping her composure, Rylie responded, "I see the message. That reward would tempt anyone. I'll take the case." Meanwhile, word of the Morgan family's urgent call reached the Kirks as well. Leland sprang into action, already strategizing and dialing contacts in hopes of getting their foot in the door. Always just out of reach of the upper society, the Kirk family saw this as their shot. Healing Brad would mean acceptance into the highest social circles at last. Another rumor had set the city abuzz: the wealthiest family in Kouhron landed in Crolens, promising a mind-blowing sum to anyone who could lead them to their missing daughter. People all across town had dropped everything, desperate for a piece of the reward. ... The next day. The shrill ring of her phone yanked Rylie from sleep. She stretched and dragged herself out of bed. On the other end was Timothy Powell -- her research advisor -- barely masking his irritation. "Rylie! I told you to handle the data organization, but you're nowhere in sight. Are you trying to get yourself kicked out of my research group? Stacey was here right at dawn. I expect you here immediately!" She offered no answer, choosing instead to end the call and glance at the clock. The digits read ten o'clock. Her mind flashed back to the previous night. Lost in old medical texts, she'd worked long hours sorting through ancient prescriptions, and now she had overslept, letting Timothy's task slip her mind. A yawn escaped as she flipped open her laptop, sent off a quick email, and hurried to get ready. Backpack in tow, she stepped out the door. Her motorcycle zipped through city streets until she pulled up in front of the university lab. After finding a spot, she strode toward the entrance. She pulled out her pass and swiped it, only to watch the screen blink and flash a denial -- her access had been revoked. At that moment, the lab doors swung open and out came Stacey, flanked by two upperclassmen from the research team. A mocking smile twisted one guy's lips as he spotted her dilemma. "So, Rylie, you think you're special? Turning up late, ditching your work -- looks like you finally pushed Professor Powell too far. Lab access is locked, and your days here are over!" Chapter 4 I'm Expelling You Stacey tugged at the man's sleeve and said with a hint of grievance, "Rylie was late because she was in a bad mood. You should go and plead with Professor Powell on her behalf. If she's kicked out of this project, how will she maintain her reputation at school? No professor would risk taking her on, and she'd never graduate." Even as she spoke, excitement flickered in Stacey's eyes, barely masked by her sympathetic tone. The prospect of Rylie's downfall was almost too delicious to hide. If Rylie really got expelled, surely she would have no choice but to come back pleading. But the scene didn't play out the way Stacey had hoped. Rylie's answer was blunt and left no room for argument. "That's perfect. I never intended to stick around. I'm out of the project. I already sent my withdrawal report to Professor Powell this morning. Tell him to approve it." Her trip here wasn't for the team -- it was to collect her carefully developed Nexo-7 compound, the key ingredient that she had been growing for months for a rare genetic remedy. Stacey's face faltered at that. "You're quitting the group?" Without missing a beat, Rylie nodded and stepped past them, but Stacey's grip shot out, latching onto her wrist. "Please don't let impulse get the better of you, Rylie! We're nearly done with this phase, and the medical competition's coming up. This isn't just about you -- there's a team counting on you! You can't just walk away." The man cast Stacey a critical look. "You shouldn't give her special treatment just because you're related, Stacey." Rylie turned her gaze on Stacey, arching a brow. "Is your concern for me genuine, or is this just another act?" "Absolutely, I am really concerned," Stacey insisted, nodding eagerly. The urge to laugh nearly escaped Rylie, her tone laced with derision. "Be serious. You've seen what your team can do even with my help -- and it's not much. Six months, and you haven't achieved a thing. You're all lost causes, so of course I'm leaving." Everything about the research group's progress came down to Rylie -- her organization, her direction, her experimental designs. Without her, Timothy's grand ambitions in clinical medicine and AI were just wishful thinking. The others fumbled through experiments, never getting close to real breakthroughs. With a dismissive snort, Rylie reached out and tapped Stacey's cheek, her words cold. "Don't fool yourself. You're not family, and I'm not here to babysit incompetence in the lab." A surge of tears filled Stacey's eyes, her voice tight with shock. Ever since Rylie had been shown the door at home, she had turned into someone unrecognizable -- brazen, stubborn, completely unwilling to listen. It drove Stacey mad. "Rylie! Don't flatter yourself -- the research doesn't revolve around you. You wouldn't even be part of this team if Stacey hadn't vouched for you in the first place!" Patience snapping, the man lunged at Rylie, intending to shove her aside. But Rylie moved first, gripping his wrist and twisting it sharply. "Ah!" A cry of pain erupted from him as he doubled over, hand clutching his now-dislocated arm, disbelief written all over his face. Rylie merely dusted off her hands and shot the group a cold glance. "Aren't you all future doctors? Surely setting a joint isn't beyond your skills." Without wasting another word, she brushed past them, entered the lab through the open doors, and collected her prized compound. While inside, she fed the latest core AI research notes into the shredder, ensuring that her work would not be stolen. Moments later, Rylie stepped back out, vial in hand, just as Timothy stormed into the hallway. One glance at the scene -- a student whimpering, the others shaken -- and Timothy's anger boiled over. He jabbed a finger at Rylie. "You're always scraping by in class, using the lab for naps, and now you're assaulting your own teammates? Do you honestly believe my research team has any need for someone like you? From now on, you're no longer a member of the team! And I--" Growing impatient, Rylie interjected, "Didn't you read my email? I already sent in my resignation." Timothy hesitated, then fumbled for his phone and scanned his inbox. Sure enough, there was Rylie's formal withdrawal. He scoffed, shaking his head as if the idea was ridiculous, "You must be out of your mind, Rylie. Do you know how many students would k**l for a place on my team? Let me make this clear: you don't get to quit -- I'm expelling you. I'll post the official notice on the university website for everyone to see." Timothy had expected her to back down, maybe beg for another chance. But he had clearly misjudged her resolve. Rylie shrugged, tossing out a dismissive, "Whatever," and was halfway out the door when sudden shouts erupted nearby. A frantic voice cut through the noise. "Somebody just collapsed!" Instinct overriding her exit, Rylie pivoted toward the commotion. A small knot of medical students clustered around the person sprawled on the floor. She wasted no time barking instructions. "Give him space -- don't crowd, let some air in." These were all medical students, and certainly, they knew this knowledge. Immediately, they stepped back, forming a loose circle. Dropping to one knee, Rylie sized up the unconscious man. His face, pale but striking, caught her attention for only a second before her hands moved to assess his condition. Her fingers quickly found his trachea -- shifted, not where it should be. She was about to examine his ch**t when Timothy charged onto the scene, voice booming. "Out of the way! Let me through!" Without hesitating, Rylie grabbed her portable medical kit, but Timothy shouted at her, "You have no business treating anyone! You're just an inexperienced student, not a doctor!" Stacey hustled over, siding with Timothy. "Rylie, listen to Professor Powell. If something goes wrong, it's on you. He's the expert here, not you." Chapter 5 Anything But Ordinary Rylie ignored Timothy and Stacey and busied herself with the medical kit. She took out a decompression needle, felt the patient's ch**t, and unbuttoned his shirt to prepare for the procedure. Her calm defiance caught Timothy's eye, prompting him to step directly in her path. "Look at him -- clammy skin, ghostly complexion, and he collapsed in this sweltering heat. This is textbook heatstroke, maybe worsened by heart trouble. The right call is CPR. Bring him back that way!" Stacey didn't waste a moment piling on. "Rylie, for once, just do as Professor Powell says. You nearly k**led Nicolas with the wrong medicine yesterday. If you keep going like this, you'll end up in court!" With Stacey stirring things up, murmurs rippled through the crowd. Hidden among the onlookers, some of Stacey's friends chimed in about Rylie's supposed poor grades, spreading doubt and fanning resentment. At the edge of the crowd, a team from the nearby bio-research institute took notice and started moving closer. Rylie's expression chilled as she seized Timothy's hands, halting his attempt at ch**t compressions. "This man's not drawing a single breath, and his trachea's off-center. He's got a tension pneumothorax. If you start CPR now, you'll just make things worse." Such a challenge to his expertise -- especially in front of his students -- left Timothy red-faced. Yet, several research group members rallied around him, echoing his diagnosis. "Rylie, stop spreading nonsense. Professor Powell's the expert here, not you!" Unfazed, Rylie shook off Timothy's grasp, disinfected her instruments, and replied, "Cold sweats, pallor, collapse -- pneumothorax can look just like heatstroke. But if you bother to check for a shifted trachea or a drum-like ch**t, you'll see the difference. Guess that's lost on a quack." Her sharp words prompted a few medical students to lean in and study the patient themselves, curiosity overtaking their doubt. "It looks like Rylie's diagnosis holds up," one student admitted, and Timothy's expression turned even grimmer. Back straight and voice steady, Timothy retorted, "You're nothing more than a glorified assistant who just files paperwork, yet you think you're an expert? If you can revive him with that needle, the mentor's chair is yours!" Rylie didn't waste another word. She finished sterilizing, deftly inserted the decompression needle, and with a sharp hiss, trapped air rushed out. Color crept back into the patient's face as his breathing returned at once. "She was right all along! He had a pneumothorax!" a student shouted, awe coloring every word. Recognition dawned across the faces in the room as those with medical training pieced together what had just happened -- Timothy's assessment had been mistaken. One student voiced what everyone was thinking. "If Rylie hadn't stood her ground and Professor Powell had pushed on with CPR, we would have had a disaster on our hands." Even so, Timothy scrambled for justification. "Well... you've all misunderstood me. I actually recognized it was pneumothorax all along." In an attempt to salvage his authority, he looked down at Rylie and the group, adding, "My intention was only to test Rylie. She has a reputation for cutting corners, after all." Before she could get a word out, the patient -- still weak, yet now radiating a quiet power -- interrupted from the floor. "Did you risk my life just to prove a point with your student? That hardly qualifies you as a doctor, let alone a teacher." Despite his lingering frailty, this man rose, his commanding presence impossible to ignore. Those striking features, combined with an unmistakable force of will, made Rylie sense that his identity was anything but ordinary. She regarded him calmly and gave a simple instruction. "Save your strength and let the campus hospital run further tests." The man nodded and, with a hoarse voice, said to Timothy, "You should apologize to my savior." When he heard this, Timothy's composure slipped. "Excuse me? What did you just say?" Not missing her chance to gain approval, Stacey chimed in quickly, "Rylie, Professor Powell's intentions were good. He cares about your growth. A kind teacher like him shouldn't have to apologize." A sharp retort cut through the crowd. "And why shouldn't he?" The voice belonged to the dean, who had just arrived with several white-coated physicians in tow. All eyes shifted as the dean hurried to the patient's side, bowing in recognition. "Mr. Owen, we're so sorry for this incident. You shouldn't have had to experience this chaos. Please, let us escort you to our facility for a proper check-up." The name Owen rang out in Rylie's mind. She remembered hearing about the powerful family from Kouhron searching for their lost sibling. The gravity and presence this man carried left her with little doubt -- she was looking at a member of that very family. A team of doctors quickly appeared with a wheelchair, helping Felix Owen settle in. Despite their urgency, Felix stayed put, his presence radiating icy authority as he leveled his gaze. "Offer her an apology," he said, voice sharp as steel. Any harm to an Owen family member on campus would have spelled disaster for the school. Sweat gathered on the dean's brow as he spun toward Timothy, his voice sharp. "You will apologize to Rylie right now! Do you value your position here or not?" Surrounded by witnesses and cornered by the dean's command, Timothy could do nothing but lower his head. "I was wrong, Rylie. I apologize," he said, each word heavy with reluctant humiliation. Anger simmered in Timothy's eyes even as he spoke. His fists clenched, and inwardly, he promised himself that Rylie would pay for this humiliation one day. Packing her vial away, Rylie was just about to leave when Felix stopped her with a call. He pressed a carved wooden token into her hand. "This is an Owen family token -- redeemable for any favor. If you ever run into trouble or need something, just call the number on the back. Whatever you ask, it's yours." The gesture gave Rylie pause. Recognizing its weight, she quietly accepted the token. Once Felix was wheeled off under the dean's watchful eye, murmurs spread among the students nearby. "So that's why there were luxury cars lining the parking lot this morning. Looks like the Owen family really is here, searching for their lost daughter." Shock rippled through the group. "Wait, are you saying their missing daughter is somewhere on campus? Who could it be?" A shrug and a whisper followed, answering, "Nobody knows for sure. I just heard they traced her here." &16&

They stripped her of everything—her name, her love, her place in the family. But when the truth came out, they realized the “country girl” they cast away owned half the nation’s wealth. ===== Chapter 1 Kicked Out Of Home Nicolas Kirk's hand trembled as he flung the bowl at Rylie Kirk's feet, the crash ringing out across the room. Bl**d stained his lips while fury contorted his face. "How could you do such a thing? What kind of sister would wish harm on her own brother?" he said, his words splintered by a violent cough. "I should've listened to Stacey. She warned me about the poison!" Rylie's expression flickered as she looked down at the ruined medicine, disappointment shadowing her features. "I keep telling you, Nicolas, there's nothing deadly in the medicine. It contains an ingredient that purges the old bl**d, which you need if you ever want to recover," said Rylie. Watching the medicine soak into the carpet, she winced inwardly, knowing how much effort and money she had poured into finding the right remedy for her eldest brother. Stacey Kirk, the adopted daughter of the Kirk family, stood at Nicolas' side, her arms wrapped protectively around the medical text that she always carried. She raised her voice, tears prickling at her eyes. "Please, Rylie, just stop making excuses. Leland ran tests on your concoction, and the results were dangerous. It's full of toxins!" Cold skepticism crossed Rylie's face as she met Stacey's gaze. "You complete f**l," Rylie said. "There isn't a medicine in this world that's entirely safe, especially not for what Nicolas is suffering from. The only way to fight back is with a powerful dose. There's nothing mild that could work on him." Stacey could barely contain her tears, her voice quivering as she pleaded with Rylie, "He's spitting up bl**d right in front of us, and you're still insisting this is the only way? We're just medical students, Rylie, not miracle workers. Don't put your pride above Nicolas' life." Taking a shaky step toward Rylie, Stacey continued, her words thick with emotion, "I found a well-known specialist. He's already written a prescription that might actually save Nicolas. Admit you were wrong and let us try. Please." Nicolas doubled over, hacking up bl**d, and fixed Rylie with a glare that burned with outrage. "It wasn't enough that you fed me that mystery medicine, now you turn on Stacey too? If you had even a fraction of her compassion, things wouldn't have come to this," Nicolas snapped. "Apologize to her, right now!" Rylie straightened her shoulders and faced Nicolas with an unflinching stare. "All I ever wanted was to help you. I have done nothing that warrants an apology. I owe her nothing." Desperation twisted Nicolas' features as he scrambled to his feet, snatching a whip from the wall in a blind rage. "That's it! You're going to push me into an early grave! Why can't you ever listen?" he shouted. "Get out! I don't want you here!" Before the whip could lash out, Rylie shifted away, nimble and unafraid. From the upper landing, someone's measured steps echoed, and a battered backpack landed at her toes. Leland Kirk, her second brother, stood at the base of the stairs. His tone cut through the air. "Let's lay it out plainly. You're just an outsider, and Stacey is our true sibling. We've kept this secret for your sake, hoping you wouldn't resent her, but today, we see just how cruel you can be. If you refuse to admit your mistakes, pack your things. We'll announce Stacey as our one and only sister. Your fortune goes with your name -- you'll have to go back to your birth family and live as they do." Such a threat didn't faze Rylie. Years of living in the Kirk household had worn down her patience. However, the revelation that she was not bound to them by bl**d came almost as a blessing. Her ch**t felt unburdened, lighter than it had in years. There was no need to waste any more of her knowledge or talent on a house that never valued her. The thought had struck her as odd -- she always wondered why she stood out among siblings who never seemed to measure up. "That suits me just fine." Rylie's voice held not a hint of regret. With quick fingers, she snatched up the backpack, plucked a candy from the bowl, and let it dissolve on her tongue as she strode for the door. Left in the hallway, Stacey could not hold back a grin of satisfaction. Five years of plotting had finally paid off. With Rylie gone, she would be the Kirk family's prized daughter, adored and indulged by her brothers. Still, she could not resist a final performance. She darted after Rylie, her voice ringing out. "Rylie! Don't leave like this! You'll always have a place here! Please, don't make me feel like the villain. I'm begging you!" Nicolas interjected sharply, "Enough, Stacey! Let her go. A heart as cold as hers belongs to her own impoverished family. She never deserved this home." A cold laugh escaped Rylie when she overheard him. Was everyone in the Kirk family so easily fooled? Did they genuinely believe that it was sheer luck that had brought Nicolas back to health, gotten him out of bed, and made him able to walk again? Without her hands and her medicine, they'd see soon enough just how far good fortune could take him. Drawing the hood over her head, Rylie let the breeze whip strands of hair across her vivid lips, a flicker of scorn glinting in her eyes. ... Far away, inside the bustling capital city of Kouhron, the imposing Owen Mansion stood as a symbol of influence and wealth. Within that opulent hall, Kendrick Owen struck his ornate cane against the marble floor. "You all promised she'd been located. Why is she still not here?" Arrayed around him stood his three grandsons -- each a commanding presence in his own right, men whose names carried enough weight that even the highest government officials paid their respects. Yet, despite their stature, the shadow of their missing youngest sister dimmed their confidence, and their faces bore deep lines of worry. "Our search stalled in Crolens. According to the latest report, she spent some years in a mountain village, but after being trafficked, her whereabouts vanished from every record." Agony creased Kendrick's expression. "For eighteen years, that child has been gone. Imagine the hardships she's endured in a place like that." "Grandfather, there's been progress. One of the kidnappers came forward and claimed she was later sold to a rich woman in Crolens. We only need a bit more time -- her discovery is within reach." Relief softened Kendrick's features. No trace of irritation remained as he rose from his chair, hope radiating from his gaze. "In that case, let's not delay. I'm coming with you. We'll search together." Chapter 2 Versatile Rylie A heavy backpack slung over her shoulder, Rylie walked out of the Kirk residence without a backward glance, heading directly to the parking lot where her prized, limited-edition motorcycle waited. Years of downplaying her skills and masking her sharpness for the sake of the Kirk family's fragile peace were finally behind her. Freedom now tasted real. Down the city streets, her motorcycle roared, slicing through the afternoon air until she arrived at the imposing entrance of a gated community near a military compound. At the checkpoint, security protocols ran tight as always, but the instant Rylie's motorcycle appeared, the guard broke into a broad smile and opened the gate wide. "Miss Kirk, your visits are always a welcome surprise." With a practiced motion, Rylie flipped up her visor and gave a polite nod. Inside, cherry blossom petals scented the breeze, and several retired officers meandered beneath the blooming trees. Spotting her approach, they made their way over. "Look who's back -- Rylie, I was just about to see you. I've run out of those pills you mixed up for me last time." Her motorcycle came to a halt as she peeled off her helmet, her gentle features drawing nods of approval. "You can swing by the clinic tomorrow. I'll be here all day if you need a refill." Catching sight of another familiar face, she gestured toward an elderly man still sporting a neck brace. "As for you, I've told you before that brace is only making things worse for your neck." An embarrassed grin spread across his face as he removed the brace. "Would you at least allow me to try a few easy exercises?" "Take it slow, and don't do anything reckless," said Rylie, stepping inside an apartment building. Long ago, her connection to this community began unexpectedly. During a visit to the Military General Hospital to buy medicine, she had encountered an elderly man suffering from epilepsy. With a prescription that targeted his condition at the root, she gave him relief that no other doctor had managed. That stranger turned out to be a celebrated, now-retired clinical specialist. Awed by Rylie's abilities, he insisted on calling her his savior and offered her an apartment in the community as thanks. Easy rapport filled the community, and its prime location made life peaceful and convenient. In time, Rylie had come to see this place as the home that she had always needed. As soon as she stepped inside her apartment, lights flickered on and a soft, familiar mechanical voice greeted her. "Welcome home, Rylie. You've been gone for three days. There are two encrypted voicemails waiting, your email inbox has new messages, and your bath is ready." Her backpack landed with a thud on the floor, sending the zipper flying open. A thick bundle of cash spilled out, scattering across the entryway. She stared at the pile of bills, guessing that it must total around ten grand. The sound that escaped her lips was half a chuckle, half a sneer. Was that really all the Kirks thought she was worth, tossing money her way like she was some beggar? "Play my messages," she said. Britton Davies' voice filled the room first, recorded late the previous evening. "Hey, Rylie, registration for the relay's almost up -- two practice runs down already! Are you honestly still clinging to the Kirks? For real? I've been wiping the floor with Phillip these past few days!" A slight arch in her brow gave away her recognition. Phillip Kirk, her third brother, ran one of the most exclusive racing clubs in the world, churning out champions and stacking up prize money. Long nights spent behind the wheel were her secret, pushing his team to one victory after another. Yet each season, as the finals approached, Phillip would swap her out for Stacey, handing over the glory and the gold. Year after year, her skills powered their success, but when the spotlight appeared, Stacey was ushered in for the celebration, leaving Rylie invisible to the crowd. Trophies meant little to her. In those days, protecting her family's ego mattered more. But now... A grin spread across her face as she called Britton. "I want half of the prize money." Whatever disappointment Britton had felt vanished at once. "Done! Phillip's team doesn't scare me. I've mapped out every move they make, but when you're behind the wheel, nobody can keep up. I never lose to him, Rylie -- I always lose to you!" A small laugh escaped Rylie as she let out a soft sigh. "You've noticed it too. Funny how obvious it is, but they still manage to overlook everything I do." Curiosity lit Britton's voice as he switched topics. "By the way, something else came up. There's been chatter on the dark web about the Owen family -- the wealthiest folks in Kouhron. Word is, they're here in Crolens, searching for their missing daughter and throwing around serious money for information. Think we should get involved?" Without hesitation, Rylie answered, "No interest. I have finals coming up, so I'll pass. See you." On Britton's end, confusion crept in. Of all the reasons to bail, exams were the last thing that he would expect from Rylie. As far as he could recall, she never even showed up for tests. The truth was, she was the one who wrote them. Chapter 3 Invitation Rylie moved on to the next voicemail, which turned out to be from Rory Carter, one of the most respected physicians at the Military General Hospital. A note of flattery colored Rory's tone as he spoke. "Rylie, I'm really in a bind. One of my old friend's sons has battled a rare illness for years, and his health is declining again. Those special pills you provided aren't helping him any longer. Is there any chance you could stop by and take a look?" Pulling out her phone, Rylie dialed him back. "I'll come to the clinic after classes tomorrow evening. Tell him to swing by then." Rory cut in with an apologetic sigh, saying, "He's stuck in the VIP wing at the hospital, and strict protocols mean he can't leave." Drumming her fingers on the tabletop, Rylie pressed for details. "Enough stalling, Rory. Who's the patient?" After a pause, Rory's voice dropped to a whisper, saying, "It's Brad Morgan. Yes, the grandson of General Sean Morgan. This isn't just any case -- the Morgans have discreetly reached out to top doctors nationwide. They're offering twenty million dollars to anyone who can cure him." An arched eyebrow was all the reaction Rylie gave. The Morgan family was legendary, led by Sean Morgan, a formidable general. He was a man even the President deferred to. The name Brad Morgan brought back memories -- she remembered reading about him in the news. Only thirty and already hailed as the youngest admiral of his era, his string of military victories made headlines everywhere. That revelation puzzled Rylie. Something could actually bring down a man like Brad? Her next move was to check her encrypted contract inbox, and sure enough, there sat an official invitation from the National Healthcare Department. Working under the codename "Healing Hand" on the dark web, she had built a reputation for tackling medical mysteries, and eventually gathered an elite team of her own. It seemed natural that the government would come looking for her. Keeping her composure, Rylie responded, "I see the message. That reward would tempt anyone. I'll take the case." Meanwhile, word of the Morgan family's urgent call reached the Kirks as well. Leland sprang into action, already strategizing and dialing contacts in hopes of getting their foot in the door. Always just out of reach of the upper society, the Kirk family saw this as their shot. Healing Brad would mean acceptance into the highest social circles at last. Another rumor had set the city abuzz: the wealthiest family in Kouhron landed in Crolens, promising a mind-blowing sum to anyone who could lead them to their missing daughter. People all across town had dropped everything, desperate for a piece of the reward. ... The next day. The shrill ring of her phone yanked Rylie from sleep. She stretched and dragged herself out of bed. On the other end was Timothy Powell -- her research advisor -- barely masking his irritation. "Rylie! I told you to handle the data organization, but you're nowhere in sight. Are you trying to get yourself kicked out of my research group? Stacey was here right at dawn. I expect you here immediately!" She offered no answer, choosing instead to end the call and glance at the clock. The digits read ten o'clock. Her mind flashed back to the previous night. Lost in old medical texts, she'd worked long hours sorting through ancient prescriptions, and now she had overslept, letting Timothy's task slip her mind. A yawn escaped as she flipped open her laptop, sent off a quick email, and hurried to get ready. Backpack in tow, she stepped out the door. Her motorcycle zipped through city streets until she pulled up in front of the university lab. After finding a spot, she strode toward the entrance. She pulled out her pass and swiped it, only to watch the screen blink and flash a denial -- her access had been revoked. At that moment, the lab doors swung open and out came Stacey, flanked by two upperclassmen from the research team. A mocking smile twisted one guy's lips as he spotted her dilemma. "So, Rylie, you think you're special? Turning up late, ditching your work -- looks like you finally pushed Professor Powell too far. Lab access is locked, and your days here are over!" Chapter 4 I'm Expelling You Stacey tugged at the man's sleeve and said with a hint of grievance, "Rylie was late because she was in a bad mood. You should go and plead with Professor Powell on her behalf. If she's kicked out of this project, how will she maintain her reputation at school? No professor would risk taking her on, and she'd never graduate." Even as she spoke, excitement flickered in Stacey's eyes, barely masked by her sympathetic tone. The prospect of Rylie's downfall was almost too delicious to hide. If Rylie really got expelled, surely she would have no choice but to come back pleading. But the scene didn't play out the way Stacey had hoped. Rylie's answer was blunt and left no room for argument. "That's perfect. I never intended to stick around. I'm out of the project. I already sent my withdrawal report to Professor Powell this morning. Tell him to approve it." Her trip here wasn't for the team -- it was to collect her carefully developed Nexo-7 compound, the key ingredient that she had been growing for months for a rare genetic remedy. Stacey's face faltered at that. "You're quitting the group?" Without missing a beat, Rylie nodded and stepped past them, but Stacey's grip shot out, latching onto her wrist. "Please don't let impulse get the better of you, Rylie! We're nearly done with this phase, and the medical competition's coming up. This isn't just about you -- there's a team counting on you! You can't just walk away." The man cast Stacey a critical look. "You shouldn't give her special treatment just because you're related, Stacey." Rylie turned her gaze on Stacey, arching a brow. "Is your concern for me genuine, or is this just another act?" "Absolutely, I am really concerned," Stacey insisted, nodding eagerly. The urge to laugh nearly escaped Rylie, her tone laced with derision. "Be serious. You've seen what your team can do even with my help -- and it's not much. Six months, and you haven't achieved a thing. You're all lost causes, so of course I'm leaving." Everything about the research group's progress came down to Rylie -- her organization, her direction, her experimental designs. Without her, Timothy's grand ambitions in clinical medicine and AI were just wishful thinking. The others fumbled through experiments, never getting close to real breakthroughs. With a dismissive snort, Rylie reached out and tapped Stacey's cheek, her words cold. "Don't fool yourself. You're not family, and I'm not here to babysit incompetence in the lab." A surge of tears filled Stacey's eyes, her voice tight with shock. Ever since Rylie had been shown the door at home, she had turned into someone unrecognizable -- brazen, stubborn, completely unwilling to listen. It drove Stacey mad. "Rylie! Don't flatter yourself -- the research doesn't revolve around you. You wouldn't even be part of this team if Stacey hadn't vouched for you in the first place!" Patience snapping, the man lunged at Rylie, intending to shove her aside. But Rylie moved first, gripping his wrist and twisting it sharply. "Ah!" A cry of pain erupted from him as he doubled over, hand clutching his now-dislocated arm, disbelief written all over his face. Rylie merely dusted off her hands and shot the group a cold glance. "Aren't you all future doctors? Surely setting a joint isn't beyond your skills." Without wasting another word, she brushed past them, entered the lab through the open doors, and collected her prized compound. While inside, she fed the latest core AI research notes into the shredder, ensuring that her work would not be stolen. Moments later, Rylie stepped back out, vial in hand, just as Timothy stormed into the hallway. One glance at the scene -- a student whimpering, the others shaken -- and Timothy's anger boiled over. He jabbed a finger at Rylie. "You're always scraping by in class, using the lab for naps, and now you're assaulting your own teammates? Do you honestly believe my research team has any need for someone like you? From now on, you're no longer a member of the team! And I--" Growing impatient, Rylie interjected, "Didn't you read my email? I already sent in my resignation." Timothy hesitated, then fumbled for his phone and scanned his inbox. Sure enough, there was Rylie's formal withdrawal. He scoffed, shaking his head as if the idea was ridiculous, "You must be out of your mind, Rylie. Do you know how many students would k**l for a place on my team? Let me make this clear: you don't get to quit -- I'm expelling you. I'll post the official notice on the university website for everyone to see." Timothy had expected her to back down, maybe beg for another chance. But he had clearly misjudged her resolve. Rylie shrugged, tossing out a dismissive, "Whatever," and was halfway out the door when sudden shouts erupted nearby. A frantic voice cut through the noise. "Somebody just collapsed!" Instinct overriding her exit, Rylie pivoted toward the commotion. A small knot of medical students clustered around the person sprawled on the floor. She wasted no time barking instructions. "Give him space -- don't crowd, let some air in." These were all medical students, and certainly, they knew this knowledge. Immediately, they stepped back, forming a loose circle. Dropping to one knee, Rylie sized up the unconscious man. His face, pale but striking, caught her attention for only a second before her hands moved to assess his condition. Her fingers quickly found his trachea -- shifted, not where it should be. She was about to examine his ch**t when Timothy charged onto the scene, voice booming. "Out of the way! Let me through!" Without hesitating, Rylie grabbed her portable medical kit, but Timothy shouted at her, "You have no business treating anyone! You're just an inexperienced student, not a doctor!" Stacey hustled over, siding with Timothy. "Rylie, listen to Professor Powell. If something goes wrong, it's on you. He's the expert here, not you." Chapter 5 Anything But Ordinary Rylie ignored Timothy and Stacey and busied herself with the medical kit. She took out a decompression needle, felt the patient's ch**t, and unbuttoned his shirt to prepare for the procedure. Her calm defiance caught Timothy's eye, prompting him to step directly in her path. "Look at him -- clammy skin, ghostly complexion, and he collapsed in this sweltering heat. This is textbook heatstroke, maybe worsened by heart trouble. The right call is CPR. Bring him back that way!" Stacey didn't waste a moment piling on. "Rylie, for once, just do as Professor Powell says. You nearly k**led Nicolas with the wrong medicine yesterday. If you keep going like this, you'll end up in court!" With Stacey stirring things up, murmurs rippled through the crowd. Hidden among the onlookers, some of Stacey's friends chimed in about Rylie's supposed poor grades, spreading doubt and fanning resentment. At the edge of the crowd, a team from the nearby bio-research institute took notice and started moving closer. Rylie's expression chilled as she seized Timothy's hands, halting his attempt at ch**t compressions. "This man's not drawing a single breath, and his trachea's off-center. He's got a tension pneumothorax. If you start CPR now, you'll just make things worse." Such a challenge to his expertise -- especially in front of his students -- left Timothy red-faced. Yet, several research group members rallied around him, echoing his diagnosis. "Rylie, stop spreading nonsense. Professor Powell's the expert here, not you!" Unfazed, Rylie shook off Timothy's grasp, disinfected her instruments, and replied, "Cold sweats, pallor, collapse -- pneumothorax can look just like heatstroke. But if you bother to check for a shifted trachea or a drum-like ch**t, you'll see the difference. Guess that's lost on a quack." Her sharp words prompted a few medical students to lean in and study the patient themselves, curiosity overtaking their doubt. "It looks like Rylie's diagnosis holds up," one student admitted, and Timothy's expression turned even grimmer. Back straight and voice steady, Timothy retorted, "You're nothing more than a glorified assistant who just files paperwork, yet you think you're an expert? If you can revive him with that needle, the mentor's chair is yours!" Rylie didn't waste another word. She finished sterilizing, deftly inserted the decompression needle, and with a sharp hiss, trapped air rushed out. Color crept back into the patient's face as his breathing returned at once. "She was right all along! He had a pneumothorax!" a student shouted, awe coloring every word. Recognition dawned across the faces in the room as those with medical training pieced together what had just happened -- Timothy's assessment had been mistaken. One student voiced what everyone was thinking. "If Rylie hadn't stood her ground and Professor Powell had pushed on with CPR, we would have had a disaster on our hands." Even so, Timothy scrambled for justification. "Well... you've all misunderstood me. I actually recognized it was pneumothorax all along." In an attempt to salvage his authority, he looked down at Rylie and the group, adding, "My intention was only to test Rylie. She has a reputation for cutting corners, after all." Before she could get a word out, the patient -- still weak, yet now radiating a quiet power -- interrupted from the floor. "Did you risk my life just to prove a point with your student? That hardly qualifies you as a doctor, let alone a teacher." Despite his lingering frailty, this man rose, his commanding presence impossible to ignore. Those striking features, combined with an unmistakable force of will, made Rylie sense that his identity was anything but ordinary. She regarded him calmly and gave a simple instruction. "Save your strength and let the campus hospital run further tests." The man nodded and, with a hoarse voice, said to Timothy, "You should apologize to my savior." When he heard this, Timothy's composure slipped. "Excuse me? What did you just say?" Not missing her chance to gain approval, Stacey chimed in quickly, "Rylie, Professor Powell's intentions were good. He cares about your growth. A kind teacher like him shouldn't have to apologize." A sharp retort cut through the crowd. "And why shouldn't he?" The voice belonged to the dean, who had just arrived with several white-coated physicians in tow. All eyes shifted as the dean hurried to the patient's side, bowing in recognition. "Mr. Owen, we're so sorry for this incident. You shouldn't have had to experience this chaos. Please, let us escort you to our facility for a proper check-up." The name Owen rang out in Rylie's mind. She remembered hearing about the powerful family from Kouhron searching for their lost sibling. The gravity and presence this man carried left her with little doubt -- she was looking at a member of that very family. A team of doctors quickly appeared with a wheelchair, helping Felix Owen settle in. Despite their urgency, Felix stayed put, his presence radiating icy authority as he leveled his gaze. "Offer her an apology," he said, voice sharp as steel. Any harm to an Owen family member on campus would have spelled disaster for the school. Sweat gathered on the dean's brow as he spun toward Timothy, his voice sharp. "You will apologize to Rylie right now! Do you value your position here or not?" Surrounded by witnesses and cornered by the dean's command, Timothy could do nothing but lower his head. "I was wrong, Rylie. I apologize," he said, each word heavy with reluctant humiliation. Anger simmered in Timothy's eyes even as he spoke. His fists clenched, and inwardly, he promised himself that Rylie would pay for this humiliation one day. Packing her vial away, Rylie was just about to leave when Felix stopped her with a call. He pressed a carved wooden token into her hand. "This is an Owen family token -- redeemable for any favor. If you ever run into trouble or need something, just call the number on the back. Whatever you ask, it's yours." The gesture gave Rylie pause. Recognizing its weight, she quietly accepted the token. Once Felix was wheeled off under the dean's watchful eye, murmurs spread among the students nearby. "So that's why there were luxury cars lining the parking lot this morning. Looks like the Owen family really is here, searching for their lost daughter." Shock rippled through the group. "Wait, are you saying their missing daughter is somewhere on campus? Who could it be?" A shrug and a whisper followed, answering, "Nobody knows for sure. I just heard they traced her here." &16&

My mom always said I was just lazy by nature. As a fitness coach, she made me and my sister wear fitness trackers since we were kids. But no matter what I did, my arms and legs would suddenly stiffen, and I’d fall flat on the ground. My teachers even thought it might be ALS. Mom just snorted. “Stop making things up. She’s just lazy.” If I didn’t burn enough calories, she punished me even harder. “Your sister can do it. Why can’t you? You’re just lazy!” I cried and tried to explain. She didn’t believe me. “Data doesn’t lie. You’ll learn your lesson once you’re exhausted.” At the school track meet, I signed up for the 800 meters. When the whistle went off, I ran as hard as I could. But my legs got stiffer and stiffer. Mom sat in the stands, her face dark. Then my vision went black, and I fell. She looked at me with disgust. “Again? Playing dead so you don’t have to run?” “Fine. I’ll fix this today. Let’s see how long you stay down.” I lay there, watching her and my sister blur in front of me. Mom… this time, I’m really not being lazy. I just… can’t move anymore. Mom always said I was just born lazy. As a personal trainer, Mom had Mia and me wearing fitness trackers practically from birthAs a fitness coach, she put fitness trackers on me and Mia from the day we were born. But whether it was running laps in PE or doing the long jump, my arms and legs would suddenly lock up, and I would go sprawling across the ground. My teachers worried it might be ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. Mom only scoffed. “Please. She’s just lazy.” Whenever I failed to meet my daily calorie goal, she punished me twice as hard. “Mia can handle the exact same workout, so why can’t you? You’re just lazy!” At first, I cried and tried to explain. Mom didn’t believe me. “The data doesn’t lie. Once you’re tired enough, maybe you’ll finally learn your lesson.” After a while, I started blaming myself too. Why was I so lazy? On the day of the school track meet, I signed up for the 800-meter race. The starting pist0l went off, and I ran as hard as I could, but my legs grew stiffer and stiffer. Mom sat in the bleachers, her face dark with anger. At last, my vision went black, and I collapsed. The back of my head struck the concrete curb, and blood spread across the ground. Mom stood beside me, frowning in disgust. “This again? You think playing dead gets you out of exercising?” “Fine. I’m going to break this bad habit of yours today. Let’s see how long it takes before you finally get up“Fine. I’m curing you of this attitude today. Let’s see how long it takes before you finally get up.” I lay on the ground as Mom and Mia blurred in front of me. Mom, I really wasn’t being lazy this time. I just could not move anymore. *** The wound on the back of my head hurt so badly it felt like my skull was splitting open. I opened my mouth, trying to explain, but I could not make a sound. Then the whole world went silent. A few classmates noticed something was wrong and quickly rushed over to me. Their faces were full of concern, nothing like Mom’s cold expression. Before they could say anything, Mia, standing beside Mom, spread her arms and blocked their wayBefore they could say anything, Mia spread her arms and blocked them. “You don’t have to help her. She’s just trying to get out of exercising!” With that, she lifted my limp wrist and pulled up the numbers on my fitness tracker for everyone to see. “Mom says this number has to reach 2.0, and she’s not even at 1.0 yet!” She meant the daily calorie burn Mom required from us. We were supposed to hit 2,000 active calories every day. Then Mia let go of my hand. My hand slammed hard against the ground, and my knuckles made a dull little thud against the pavement. That finally made Mom glance over. Out of habit, I shut my eyes and waited for the pain to come. A few seconds passed before I realized that once a person was dead, pain stopped coming. I had not even had time to feel relieved before I caught Mom’s gaze, and my stomach dropped all over again. But in the next second, after Mia tapped open the data on her own fitness tracker, the question in Mom’s eyes turned back into disgust. There was a smiley face beside Mia’s number, which meant she had hit her goal. Mia looked smug as she bragged to the other students. “I’m telling you, she’s always like this! She never hits the goal.” “And I’m two years younger than her, but I can still do it!” “Mom says she’s lazy, and she always talks back and makes Mom mad.” Hearing Mia take her side, Mom smiled and stroked Mia’s hairHearing Mia defend her, Mom smiled and stroked her hair. Seeing how calm the two of them looked, the classmates began to hesitate. “But is she really okay like that?” “I heard Chloe Parker is Ms. Morgan’s daughter. Chloe is always saying how much Ms. Morgan loves her and how well Ms. Morgan treats her, so Ms. Morgan wouldn’t just ignore her“I heard Chloe Parker is Ms. Morgan’s daughter. Chloe is always saying how much Ms. Morgan loves her and how good she is to her, so Ms. Morgan wouldn’t just ignore her.” “Maybe they just had a fight.” As they talked, more and more students gathered around. But Mia stopped them one by one, and no one managed to come close enough to check on me. Mom’s expression grew worse and worse. Out of habit, I apologized to her, but she could not hear me. She pointed at me, her voice full of disgust. “Chloe Parker! Are you done making a scene?” “You may not have any shame, but I do. Are you proud of this? Do you really want everyone laughing at us“You may not care about embarrassing yourself, but I still have a reputation. Is this supposed to make you proud? Do you really want everyone laughing at us that badly?” In the past, even when my limbs stiffened and I fell again and again, I would still force myself to get back up because I did not want to make Mom angrier. But now I stayed where I was, face down on the ground, without moving at all. Mia stared at my tracker and added fuel to the fire. “Mom, look. Chloe’s number is still going up.” “She’s totally fine. She’s just doing this to defy you“She’s totally fine. She’s just doing this to get back at you!” Mom was so angry her chest rose and fell sharply. “You want to put on a show? Fine. I’ll play along with you all day if I have to.” Watching Mom’s face turn red with fury, Mia stomped over and kicked my hand. “Bad Chloe! That’s what you get for making Mom mad!” By pure coincidence, my curled fingers slipped through the loop in the bow of her sneaker lace. Mia’s sneaker lace caught on my fingers before she could react, and she lost her balance, hitting the ground hardMia was caught off guard. She lost her balance and fell hard onto the ground. Her shrill crying exploded through the crowd. Mom hurried to help Mia up and carefully checked her for injuries. When she saw that Mia had split her lip, the fury in her eyes turned even more viciousWhen she saw that Mia’s mouth had been scraped open, the hostility in her eyes deepened. Then she raised her foot and kicked me hard. My limp, powerless body flipped over from the force of the kickMy soft, powerless body flipped over from the force of the blow. My body lay faceup, but my head, too heavy to turn with it, remained twisted to one sideMy body had landed faceup, but my head was still twisted to the side because it was too heavy to move with the rest of me. Anyone who looked closely would have seen that my head and body were positioned all wrong, almost unnaturally so. But Mom was too busy fussing over Mia to notice. All I could hear was her cursing at me. “Chloe, how could you be this cruel?” “That was Mia! Your own sister“That was Mia! Your own family!” “You’re a girl too. How would you feel if your face got smashed up like that?” The more she spoke, the angrier she became. Then she simply raised her hand and slapped me across the face again. “You just have to fight me on everything, don’t you? You have to go against Mia too!” “How did I end up raising something so lazy and so vicious? I wasted every bit of love I ever gave you!” The crack of the slap rang through the crowd, and some students covered their eyes in fear. Mia’s eyes were full of tears, but there was no hurt in them. If anything, there was a flicker of satisfaction, as if she had finally gotten even. “It wasn’t me... I was already... dead...” I murmured the words. For some reason, even though my body could no longer feel pain, my heart still felt as if it had been cut open again and again. It had not always been like this. In my hazy childhood memories, Mom had never treated me this way. Back then, she would always smile, give me a thumbs-up, and tell me I had done a great job. Whatever I wanted, she would buy it for me. Every day, she put so much thought into making me balanced meals, and at night, she would tell me stories until I fell asleep. I remembered all of it. Things only changed later, after my body started having problems. Her attitude toward me grew worse and worse. At first, she would still patiently talk me through what had gone wrong. Then she gradually became impatient. In the end, that impatience turned into deeper and deeper disgust. The truth was, I had never blamed Mom. I could even understand her. Dad once told me that Mom had a younger brother when she was little. But when he was ten, he died after a sudden high feverBut when he was ten, he died after running a fever. The doctors said his body had always been too weak, and he could not survive such a sudden, severe illness. After that, Mom became especially focused on physical fitness. When she was preg...n@nt with me, she and Dad had already talked about raising us in the healthiest way possibleFrom the time she had me, she and Dad had talked about raising healthy kids. She researched children’s exercise and ways to build strength, collecting thick stacks of notes and plans. She even had our fitness trackers custom-made. “Your mom just cares about you girls too much,” Dad told me. After hearing that, I finally understood that everything Mom did was for our own good. I did not want to disappoint her, so even when I fell over and over again, even when my whole body was covered in injuries, I kept getting back up and trying to meet her expectations. But no matter how hard I tried, in her eyes, I was still the lazy child. Several teachers finally noticed what was happening and rushed over to stop Mom, who was still slapping me. “Ms. Morgan, calm down!” My head swung from side to side under her blows. The wound on the back of my head, which had been pressed against the ground, lost that pressure, and more blood poured out with each movement. One teacher frowned and tried to come check on me. Mom stopped her at once. “Don’t bother with her! It’s just a little scrape. If it actually hurt, she would have screamed by now. She isn’t stupid“Don’t bother with her! She only scraped herself a little. If it actually hurt, she would have screamed by now. She isn’t stupid!” I gave a bitter smile. A long time ago, that had been true. Back then, Mom still cared about me. Whenever I fell or bumped into something, I would go to her so she could clean it, put ointment on it, and blow on it to make it hurt less. But later, whenever I cried, Mom would not even look at me. Over time, I learned to get back up quietly and stop saying it hurt. The teacher still looked uneasy. “She really doesn’t look well to me.” “Just to be safe, I’m going to call the school nurse.” Before Mom could stop her, the teacher had already made the call. Mom scoffed and did not even bother looking at me again. When the school nurse arrived, Mom talked her into leavingWhen the school nurse arrived, Mom sent the nurse right back. “She’s acting. Of course she has to commit to the part.” “Don’t worry. I’m her mother. You can trust me. Nothing is going to happen“Don’t worry. I’m her mother. If I say she’s fine, she’s fine. Nothing is going to happen.” “Everyone, go on. Clear out.” With that, she dispersed the crowd, then gave me one more glance. “If you’re so determined to stay here, then stay. Let’s see how long you can keep lying there.” Over the loudspeaker, Mia’s name was called. The announcement said she had taken first place in both the long jump and the sprint. Mom picked her up and kissed her twice on the cheek. “Come on. Let’s go get your awards.” “You did so well today. What do you want as your reward?” I watched their backs grow farther and farther away. The track meet was almost over, and all the students and teachers were packing up the equipment. Everyone was busy with their own tasks, leaving me lying on the ground all alone. A sour ache spread through my chest. Forty minutes later, the track meet officially ended. People walked past me in twos and threes. Every now and then, a few students who did not know what had happened worried about me. “Chloe has been lying there for so long. What if something really happened to her?” “Could she have heatstroke?” But their concern was quickly drowned out by louder laughter. “Her? I heard she’s throwing a tantrum at her mom. I would never upset my mom like that.” “All she does during recess and PE is run, but it’s not like she ever gets good results. It just makes her look like she’s pretending to work hard.” “She just pulled that sneaky little stunt and made Mia get hurt. What could possibly be wrong with her?” Those rumors sounded painfully familiar. I did not need to think hard to know Mia had spread them. Everyone shook their heads and moved on. When the voices faded, I was once again the only one left on the track field. According to the school’s schedule, after the track meet, there would be a school family flea market in the front lobby. The decorations had all been made by the students, and some of the best projects were displayed on the backdrop wall. Mia picked out a booth and set out the finished beaded bracelets. Mom took the lunches she had prepared out of her backpack. When her fingers touched my lunch box, they paused. She handed lunch to Mia, then absentmindedly poked at the food in my container with her spoon before asking coldly, “Where is Chloe? She doesn’t want to run, and now she doesn’t want to come to the market either?” Mia was wolfing down her food. She mumbled through a mouthful, “I asked her. She insisted it was your fault and said you had to apologize first, so you wouldn’t force her anymoreMia was wolfing down her food. She answered unclearly, “I asked her. She insisted it was your fault and said you had to apologize first, so you wouldn’t force her anymore.” Mom’s expression, which had just softened a little, darkened again. Mia looked deeply wronged and spoke carefully. “Mom, maybe I should go apologize to Chloe.” “Maybe she’s upset because I did well today. She isn’t usually like this.” Mom sighed and gave Mia the meat from her own lunchMom sighed and gave Mia the best part from her own lunch. “This has nothing to do with you. I’ve just spoiled her too much.” “I used to let things slide because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, and now she thinks she can challenge me“I used to let things slide because I didn’t want to argue with her, and now she thinks she can challenge me.” “Today, I’m going to make her understand exactly who the parent is and who is supposed to listen.”

My mom always said I was just lazy by nature. As a fitness coach, she made me and my sister wear fitness trackers since we were kids. But no matter what I did, my arms and legs would suddenly stiffen, and I’d fall flat on the ground. My teachers even thought it might be ALS. Mom just snorted. “Stop making things up. She’s just lazy.” If I didn’t burn enough calories, she punished me even harder. “Your sister can do it. Why can’t you? You’re just lazy!” I cried and tried to explain. She didn’t believe me. “Data doesn’t lie. You’ll learn your lesson once you’re exhausted.” At the school track meet, I signed up for the 800 meters. When the whistle went off, I ran as hard as I could. But my legs got stiffer and stiffer. Mom sat in the stands, her face dark. Then my vision went black, and I fell. She looked at me with disgust. “Again? Playing dead so you don’t have to run?” “Fine. I’ll fix this today. Let’s see how long you stay down.” I lay there, watching her and my sister blur in front of me. Mom… this time, I’m really not being lazy. I just… can’t move anymore. Mom always said I was just born lazy. As a personal trainer, Mom had Mia and me wearing fitness trackers practically from birthAs a fitness coach, she put fitness trackers on me and Mia from the day we were born. But whether it was running laps in PE or doing the long jump, my arms and legs would suddenly lock up, and I would go sprawling across the ground. My teachers worried it might be ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. Mom only scoffed. “Please. She’s just lazy.” Whenever I failed to meet my daily calorie goal, she punished me twice as hard. “Mia can handle the exact same workout, so why can’t you? You’re just lazy!” At first, I cried and tried to explain. Mom didn’t believe me. “The data doesn’t lie. Once you’re tired enough, maybe you’ll finally learn your lesson.” After a while, I started blaming myself too. Why was I so lazy? On the day of the school track meet, I signed up for the 800-meter race. The starting pist0l went off, and I ran as hard as I could, but my legs grew stiffer and stiffer. Mom sat in the bleachers, her face dark with anger. At last, my vision went black, and I collapsed. The back of my head struck the concrete curb, and blood spread across the ground. Mom stood beside me, frowning in disgust. “This again? You think playing dead gets you out of exercising?” “Fine. I’m going to break this bad habit of yours today. Let’s see how long it takes before you finally get up“Fine. I’m curing you of this attitude today. Let’s see how long it takes before you finally get up.” I lay on the ground as Mom and Mia blurred in front of me. Mom, I really wasn’t being lazy this time. I just could not move anymore. *** The wound on the back of my head hurt so badly it felt like my skull was splitting open. I opened my mouth, trying to explain, but I could not make a sound. Then the whole world went silent. A few classmates noticed something was wrong and quickly rushed over to me. Their faces were full of concern, nothing like Mom’s cold expression. Before they could say anything, Mia, standing beside Mom, spread her arms and blocked their wayBefore they could say anything, Mia spread her arms and blocked them. “You don’t have to help her. She’s just trying to get out of exercising!” With that, she lifted my limp wrist and pulled up the numbers on my fitness tracker for everyone to see. “Mom says this number has to reach 2.0, and she’s not even at 1.0 yet!” She meant the daily calorie burn Mom required from us. We were supposed to hit 2,000 active calories every day. Then Mia let go of my hand. My hand slammed hard against the ground, and my knuckles made a dull little thud against the pavement. That finally made Mom glance over. Out of habit, I shut my eyes and waited for the pain to come. A few seconds passed before I realized that once a person was dead, pain stopped coming. I had not even had time to feel relieved before I caught Mom’s gaze, and my stomach dropped all over again. But in the next second, after Mia tapped open the data on her own fitness tracker, the question in Mom’s eyes turned back into disgust. There was a smiley face beside Mia’s number, which meant she had hit her goal. Mia looked smug as she bragged to the other students. “I’m telling you, she’s always like this! She never hits the goal.” “And I’m two years younger than her, but I can still do it!” “Mom says she’s lazy, and she always talks back and makes Mom mad.” Hearing Mia take her side, Mom smiled and stroked Mia’s hairHearing Mia defend her, Mom smiled and stroked her hair. Seeing how calm the two of them looked, the classmates began to hesitate. “But is she really okay like that?” “I heard Chloe Parker is Ms. Morgan’s daughter. Chloe is always saying how much Ms. Morgan loves her and how well Ms. Morgan treats her, so Ms. Morgan wouldn’t just ignore her“I heard Chloe Parker is Ms. Morgan’s daughter. Chloe is always saying how much Ms. Morgan loves her and how good she is to her, so Ms. Morgan wouldn’t just ignore her.” “Maybe they just had a fight.” As they talked, more and more students gathered around. But Mia stopped them one by one, and no one managed to come close enough to check on me. Mom’s expression grew worse and worse. Out of habit, I apologized to her, but she could not hear me. She pointed at me, her voice full of disgust. “Chloe Parker! Are you done making a scene?” “You may not have any shame, but I do. Are you proud of this? Do you really want everyone laughing at us“You may not care about embarrassing yourself, but I still have a reputation. Is this supposed to make you proud? Do you really want everyone laughing at us that badly?” In the past, even when my limbs stiffened and I fell again and again, I would still force myself to get back up because I did not want to make Mom angrier. But now I stayed where I was, face down on the ground, without moving at all. Mia stared at my tracker and added fuel to the fire. “Mom, look. Chloe’s number is still going up.” “She’s totally fine. She’s just doing this to defy you“She’s totally fine. She’s just doing this to get back at you!” Mom was so angry her chest rose and fell sharply. “You want to put on a show? Fine. I’ll play along with you all day if I have to.” Watching Mom’s face turn red with fury, Mia stomped over and kicked my hand. “Bad Chloe! That’s what you get for making Mom mad!” By pure coincidence, my curled fingers slipped through the loop in the bow of her sneaker lace. Mia’s sneaker lace caught on my fingers before she could react, and she lost her balance, hitting the ground hardMia was caught off guard. She lost her balance and fell hard onto the ground. Her shrill crying exploded through the crowd. Mom hurried to help Mia up and carefully checked her for injuries. When she saw that Mia had split her lip, the fury in her eyes turned even more viciousWhen she saw that Mia’s mouth had been scraped open, the hostility in her eyes deepened. Then she raised her foot and kicked me hard. My limp, powerless body flipped over from the force of the kickMy soft, powerless body flipped over from the force of the blow. My body lay faceup, but my head, too heavy to turn with it, remained twisted to one sideMy body had landed faceup, but my head was still twisted to the side because it was too heavy to move with the rest of me. Anyone who looked closely would have seen that my head and body were positioned all wrong, almost unnaturally so. But Mom was too busy fussing over Mia to notice. All I could hear was her cursing at me. “Chloe, how could you be this cruel?” “That was Mia! Your own sister“That was Mia! Your own family!” “You’re a girl too. How would you feel if your face got smashed up like that?” The more she spoke, the angrier she became. Then she simply raised her hand and slapped me across the face again. “You just have to fight me on everything, don’t you? You have to go against Mia too!” “How did I end up raising something so lazy and so vicious? I wasted every bit of love I ever gave you!” The crack of the slap rang through the crowd, and some students covered their eyes in fear. Mia’s eyes were full of tears, but there was no hurt in them. If anything, there was a flicker of satisfaction, as if she had finally gotten even. “It wasn’t me... I was already... dead...” I murmured the words. For some reason, even though my body could no longer feel pain, my heart still felt as if it had been cut open again and again. It had not always been like this. In my hazy childhood memories, Mom had never treated me this way. Back then, she would always smile, give me a thumbs-up, and tell me I had done a great job. Whatever I wanted, she would buy it for me. Every day, she put so much thought into making me balanced meals, and at night, she would tell me stories until I fell asleep. I remembered all of it. Things only changed later, after my body started having problems. Her attitude toward me grew worse and worse. At first, she would still patiently talk me through what had gone wrong. Then she gradually became impatient. In the end, that impatience turned into deeper and deeper disgust. The truth was, I had never blamed Mom. I could even understand her. Dad once told me that Mom had a younger brother when she was little. But when he was ten, he died after a sudden high feverBut when he was ten, he died after running a fever. The doctors said his body had always been too weak, and he could not survive such a sudden, severe illness. After that, Mom became especially focused on physical fitness. When she was preg...n@nt with me, she and Dad had already talked about raising us in the healthiest way possibleFrom the time she had me, she and Dad had talked about raising healthy kids. She researched children’s exercise and ways to build strength, collecting thick stacks of notes and plans. She even had our fitness trackers custom-made. “Your mom just cares about you girls too much,” Dad told me. After hearing that, I finally understood that everything Mom did was for our own good. I did not want to disappoint her, so even when I fell over and over again, even when my whole body was covered in injuries, I kept getting back up and trying to meet her expectations. But no matter how hard I tried, in her eyes, I was still the lazy child. Several teachers finally noticed what was happening and rushed over to stop Mom, who was still slapping me. “Ms. Morgan, calm down!” My head swung from side to side under her blows. The wound on the back of my head, which had been pressed against the ground, lost that pressure, and more blood poured out with each movement. One teacher frowned and tried to come check on me. Mom stopped her at once. “Don’t bother with her! It’s just a little scrape. If it actually hurt, she would have screamed by now. She isn’t stupid“Don’t bother with her! She only scraped herself a little. If it actually hurt, she would have screamed by now. She isn’t stupid!” I gave a bitter smile. A long time ago, that had been true. Back then, Mom still cared about me. Whenever I fell or bumped into something, I would go to her so she could clean it, put ointment on it, and blow on it to make it hurt less. But later, whenever I cried, Mom would not even look at me. Over time, I learned to get back up quietly and stop saying it hurt. The teacher still looked uneasy. “She really doesn’t look well to me.” “Just to be safe, I’m going to call the school nurse.” Before Mom could stop her, the teacher had already made the call. Mom scoffed and did not even bother looking at me again. When the school nurse arrived, Mom talked her into leavingWhen the school nurse arrived, Mom sent the nurse right back. “She’s acting. Of course she has to commit to the part.” “Don’t worry. I’m her mother. You can trust me. Nothing is going to happen“Don’t worry. I’m her mother. If I say she’s fine, she’s fine. Nothing is going to happen.” “Everyone, go on. Clear out.” With that, she dispersed the crowd, then gave me one more glance. “If you’re so determined to stay here, then stay. Let’s see how long you can keep lying there.” Over the loudspeaker, Mia’s name was called. The announcement said she had taken first place in both the long jump and the sprint. Mom picked her up and kissed her twice on the cheek. “Come on. Let’s go get your awards.” “You did so well today. What do you want as your reward?” I watched their backs grow farther and farther away. The track meet was almost over, and all the students and teachers were packing up the equipment. Everyone was busy with their own tasks, leaving me lying on the ground all alone. A sour ache spread through my chest. Forty minutes later, the track meet officially ended. People walked past me in twos and threes. Every now and then, a few students who did not know what had happened worried about me. “Chloe has been lying there for so long. What if something really happened to her?” “Could she have heatstroke?” But their concern was quickly drowned out by louder laughter. “Her? I heard she’s throwing a tantrum at her mom. I would never upset my mom like that.” “All she does during recess and PE is run, but it’s not like she ever gets good results. It just makes her look like she’s pretending to work hard.” “She just pulled that sneaky little stunt and made Mia get hurt. What could possibly be wrong with her?” Those rumors sounded painfully familiar. I did not need to think hard to know Mia had spread them. Everyone shook their heads and moved on. When the voices faded, I was once again the only one left on the track field. According to the school’s schedule, after the track meet, there would be a school family flea market in the front lobby. The decorations had all been made by the students, and some of the best projects were displayed on the backdrop wall. Mia picked out a booth and set out the finished beaded bracelets. Mom took the lunches she had prepared out of her backpack. When her fingers touched my lunch box, they paused. She handed lunch to Mia, then absentmindedly poked at the food in my container with her spoon before asking coldly, “Where is Chloe? She doesn’t want to run, and now she doesn’t want to come to the market either?” Mia was wolfing down her food. She mumbled through a mouthful, “I asked her. She insisted it was your fault and said you had to apologize first, so you wouldn’t force her anymoreMia was wolfing down her food. She answered unclearly, “I asked her. She insisted it was your fault and said you had to apologize first, so you wouldn’t force her anymore.” Mom’s expression, which had just softened a little, darkened again. Mia looked deeply wronged and spoke carefully. “Mom, maybe I should go apologize to Chloe.” “Maybe she’s upset because I did well today. She isn’t usually like this.” Mom sighed and gave Mia the meat from her own lunchMom sighed and gave Mia the best part from her own lunch. “This has nothing to do with you. I’ve just spoiled her too much.” “I used to let things slide because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, and now she thinks she can challenge me“I used to let things slide because I didn’t want to argue with her, and now she thinks she can challenge me.” “Today, I’m going to make her understand exactly who the parent is and who is supposed to listen.”