Twelve years. That's how long I wasted loving Beasley Windsor. To earn his affection, I agreed to a secret marriage, remaining the woman behind the scenes. But to force me into submission, he imprisoned me on a deserted island. Reborn and awakened, I see the truth. He wants a divorce? I sign without hesitation. He needs a genius in drone technology? Oops, that's me. He invests billions to pave the way for his childhood sweetheart's film? Surprise—I'm the original author. In my past life, he discarded me like trash. In this life, do I look like I'll let him win? As my identities unravel, Beasley shamelessly clings to me. "Let's make a deal," he pleads. I smirk, mirroring his past cruelty. "Try next life. No—scratch that. Not even then." But the man dares to step closer, eyes reddened. "Then… how about remarriage?" I laugh coldly—then vomit all over him. "Sorry, I'm allergic to you. Literally."

Chapter 1"You could strip naked and kneel in front of me, and I still wouldn't fuck you."That cold, familiar voice detonated in Willow Sheffield's mind, sharp as a dagger and just as painful.Beasley Windsor. The man who wanted her gone for good.Willow's eyes flew open, shock and fury swirling in her gaze, laced with confusion."I warned you the day we got married: you're never to enter my study. You crossed a line."His tone grew more impatient with every word. Standing over her, he stared down at the woman sprawled on the floor, feigning unconsciousness, his brow furrowing deeper. "Are you deaf? Get out. Now."For a moment, Willow didn't move. Then, finally, she stirred.She pushed herself up, barely glancing his way before turning her face aside—"Ugh!"The retching sound was answer enough.Beasley's handsome features darkened, his jaw clenched like iron. "If you're going to be sick, do it in your own room. Don't ruin my floors."Willow ignored his biting sarcasm, clamped a hand over her mouth, and fled down the hall.Only after slamming her bedroom door behind her did the nausea begin to ebb.She leaned against the door, catching her breath for a long minute before moving to the vanity. She had to check—she had to know.When her eyes met the reflection in the mirror—a youthful, beautiful face, alive and familiar—her heart began to thrum, faster and faster.She'd been reborn.She was back, four years ago, on the very night she'd put on that ridiculous silk nightgown and tried to seduce Beasley into fulfilling their so-called marital "duties" in his study.If only she could have come back one day earlier—she could have erased this humiliating memory entirely.Just thinking of how she'd once fallen for that cold, ruthless man made her stomach churn again.Well, at least the divorce would come soon enough.As she was lost in thought, the sound of a car engine roaring to life drifted in from outside the window.Just like last time. Beasley was gone before dawn, abandoning the villa—and he wouldn't be back for half a year.How had she felt back then? Panicked. Helpless. Small and utterly defeated.But now? Now, she felt nothing but relief—almost a lightness in her chest.Willow headed for the bathroom, intent on a long, hot shower and a good night's sleep.She was exhausted.But sleep brought no peace. Nightmares stalked her: her father, falsely accused and thrown into prison by one of his own students; herself, begging Beasley for help, only to be locked away by three strangers with predatory eyes; the terror of plunging seven stories toward the ground—Willow woke drenched in sweat, heart racing, breath coming hard and fast.It was a long time before she calmed down enough to look at her phone. Just past two in the morning.She curled up on her side, swallowed by the darkness, lost in memories of the life she'd left behind—and the uncertain road ahead.At nine the next morning, Kingston's most renowned attorney, Alistair Worthington, arrived with the divorce papers Beasley had ordered him to prepare the night before."Mr. Windsor's instructions are clear, Miss Sheffield. If you sign now, you keep the Baycrest villa. Otherwise…you get nothing."Nothing? Would he wipe her off the face of the earth?Willow let out a cold, mirthless laugh and held out her hand. "Pen."Alistair blinked, clearly stunned, frozen for a moment as if he couldn't believe what he'd heard.Willow wasn't surprised. In her previous life, Attorney Worthington had done the exact same thing—handed her the divorce agreement, without so much as a pen.He must have been certain she'd never actually go through with it. That she'd never dare leave Beasley. Why bother bringing a pen?But that didn't matter. He hadn't brought one—but she had.Calmly, Willow drew a fountain pen from the pocket of her coat, flipped open the paperwork right in front of him, and signed her name in a strong, steady hand.Alistair jolted back to attention, then frowned, his voice cold as ice. "Miss Sheffield, you haven't even read the agreement."Willow didn't bother to look up. "No need. I have no objections."She had an exceptional memory—she'd already pored over this agreement in her previous life, line by line. There was no point in reading it again.She signed her name at lightning speed and handed the papers back to him, her movements swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation."Please ask Attorney Worthington to let Mr. Windsor know that we'll be finalizing the divorce at city hall tomorrow at nine. He must make time and absolutely cannot be late."She paused, then added, "Attorney Worthington is surely aware that the new one-month ‘cooling off' period for divorces goes into effect on the first of next month. I have no intention of dragging this out another month."The message could not have been more humiliating.A flicker of disbelief crossed Attorney Worthington's eyes, but he quickly regained his composure. In his mind, Willow's forced bravado was both pitiable and faintly ridiculous.He accepted the agreement, his gaze lingering on the dark circles beneath Willow's eyes, lips curled in a half-smile. "Understood. I'll relay your message to President Windsor exactly as you said, Miss Sheffield."Willow had no time for the attorney's patronizing tone. She stood up and showed him to the door without another word.Once her unwelcome guest was gone, she wasted no time, hurrying back to her room to pack her things.It took her about ten minutes to finish.Not that she had little to take—after all, she'd moved in at twenty, before she even graduated college, and had lived here for three years. She'd accumulated plenty.But she didn't want anything from this place anymore. She left behind all the expensive clothes and jewelry her in-laws had given her on behalf of the Windsor family. She took only what was truly hers: a few books, important documents, and her laptop.When you've reached the point of utter disappointment and disgust with someone, you don't want to touch a single thing connected to them.All Willow wanted now was to sever ties with Beasley Windsor completely, to live the rest of her life as if they'd never met.Otherwise, she was afraid she might not be able to stop herself from destroying him.At noon, Beasley had reserved a lavish private suite at the Silverton Club—the most exclusive spot in Kingston City—to welcome back his childhood friend, York Sinclair, who'd just returned from abroad.It was right around then that Alistair called.Beasley's strikingly handsome face was set in a frosty mask as he ignored the incoming call.York, sitting beside him, noticed and raised an amused eyebrow. "Who's calling? That thrift-store girlfriend of yours doing a little checking up?""Bargain Bin Girl" was their circle's inside joke for Willow—one of the few things they all agreed on.Beasley's reply was flat. "No." He had zero interest in talking about anything related to that woman.York looked ready to dig for more, but Beasley didn't give him the chance. He changed the subject. "So, you're back for good this time?"York, unusually serious, nodded. "Yeah, I'm staying. Time to strike out on my own and build my own little empire.""Not taking over your dad's company?" Beasley didn't sound surprised, but asked anyway.York glanced at his friend, his smile carrying a hidden edge. "Taking over would cost too much—you know what I mean."Beasley's expression didn't change. He picked up his glass. "If you need anything, just ask."York lifted his own in response. "Don't worry, I won't hesitate."The two clinked glasses and downed their drinks in a single gulp.After leaving the villa that morning, Willow checked into a downtown luxury hotel instead of going back to her father's house.She wanted to keep everything quiet until the divorce was finalized. No one could know—not her father, not her in-laws. If her dad found out, he'd be heartbroken. If her in-laws knew, they'd certainly try to intervene.Neither outcome was what she wanted.Just then, her phone rang.She glanced at the screen. It was Ablitt, her editor."STAR, there's an issue with your new book. Can we meet to talk?"Hearing the urgency in Ablitt's voice, Willow immediately guessed what it was about.She feigned ignorance. "Right now?""Yes, right now!"She paused, thinking it over. "Alright. Where should we meet?"Ablitt gave her a time and place over the phone. He even offered to pick her up, but Willow politely declined.They arranged to meet at one o'clock in a stylish downtown café, booking a private room.Willow arrived five minutes early.As soon as Ablitt walked in, his face lit up and some of his tension seemed to melt away. "Willow, it's been way too long!" he exclaimed, almost relieved.They'd gone to the same high school—she was a year behind him—and had gotten to know each other through an extracurricular club. That old connection was why Willow agreed to meet in person.Still, Ablitt had promised not to let anyone at the publishing office know about their history. At work, he only ever called her by her pen name, "STAR."Once they were both seated, Willow smiled, her words carrying a double meaning. "Yes, it really has been a while, Ablitt."It had been over four years since they'd last seen each other—at least, in this lifetime.Willow didn't waste time on small talk. "Is this about the plagiarism accusations against my new book?" she asked directly.Ablitt hesitated, surprised. "So you already know?"Willow's expression was calm. "Before I came, I logged into my author account at the publishing house. The comments were… lively, to say the least. I checked the trending topics too. It wasn't hard to figure out."Ablitt frowned in concern. "I've seen the comparison charts the internet sleuths made, and the web novel you're accused of copying. There are two suspiciously similar scenes in the opening chapters, and even a few of the made-up terms are identical. Sure, all that only makes up less than five percent of your book, but there's a core plot twist that overlaps too. Even though that author handled it terribly, the online crowd just won't let it go."He hesitated, worry etched on his face. "Willow, is it possible your draft got leaked?"No matter what, he couldn't believe Willow would ever plagiarize.Willow was known for her wild imagination and originality—her sci-fi novels had a cult following. To maintain an air of mystery, she'd never revealed anything about herself besides her pen name—not even her gender or age. She never serialized her work online, either; every book was a print exclusive, released once a year, and every single one was a bestseller, selling well over a million copies.The book in question, *Fleeting Shadows*, was her fifth, and it had only hit the shelves at the start of the month.Willow searched her memory, trying to recall every detail. A fleeting image surfaced.She nodded thoughtfully. "Actually, the idea for this book started taking shape three years ago…"Chapter 2"You could strip naked and kneel in front of me, and I still wouldn't fuck you."That cold, familiar voice detonated in Willow Sheffield's mind, sharp as a dagger and just as painful.Beasley Windsor. The man who wanted her gone for good.Willow's eyes flew open, shock and fury swirling in her gaze, laced with confusion."I warned you the day we got married: you're never to enter my study. You crossed a line."His tone grew more impatient with every word. Standing over her, he stared down at the woman sprawled on the floor, feigning unconsciousness, his brow furrowing deeper. "Are you deaf? Get out. Now."For a moment, Willow didn't move. Then, finally, she stirred.She pushed herself up, barely glancing his way before turning her face aside—"Ugh!"The retching sound was answer enough.Beasley's handsome features darkened, his jaw clenched like iron. "If you're going to be sick, do it in your own room. Don't ruin my floors."Willow ignored his biting sarcasm, clamped a hand over her mouth, and fled down the hall.Only after slamming her bedroom door behind her did the nausea begin to ebb.She leaned against the door, catching her breath for a long minute before moving to the vanity. She had to check—she had to know.When her eyes met the reflection in the mirror—a youthful, beautiful face, alive and familiar—her heart began to thrum, faster and faster.She'd been reborn.She was back, four years ago, on the very night she'd put on that ridiculous silk nightgown and tried to seduce Beasley into fulfilling their so-called marital "duties" in his study.If only she could have come back one day earlier—she could have erased this humiliating memory entirely.Just thinking of how she'd once fallen for that cold, ruthless man made her stomach churn again.Well, at least the divorce would come soon enough.As she was lost in thought, the sound of a car engine roaring to life drifted in from outside the window.Just like last time. Beasley was gone before dawn, abandoning the villa—and he wouldn't be back for half a year.How had she felt back then? Panicked. Helpless. Small and utterly defeated.But now? Now, she felt nothing but relief—almost a lightness in her chest.Willow headed for the bathroom, intent on a long, hot shower and a good night's sleep.She was exhausted.But sleep brought no peace. Nightmares stalked her: her father, falsely accused and thrown into prison by one of his own students; herself, begging Beasley for help, only to be locked away by three strangers with predatory eyes; the terror of plunging seven stories toward the ground—Willow woke drenched in sweat, heart racing, breath coming hard and fast.It was a long time before she calmed down enough to look at her phone. Just past two in the morning.She curled up on her side, swallowed by the darkness, lost in memories of the life she'd left behind—and the uncertain road ahead.At nine the next morning, Kingston's most renowned attorney, Alistair Worthington, arrived with the divorce papers Beasley had ordered him to prepare the night before."Mr. Windsor's instructions are clear, Miss Sheffield. If you sign now, you keep the Baycrest villa. Otherwise…you get nothing."Nothing? Would he wipe her off the face of the earth?Willow let out a cold, mirthless laugh and held out her hand. "Pen."Alistair blinked, clearly stunned, frozen for a moment as if he couldn't believe what he'd heard.Willow wasn't surprised. In her previous life, Attorney Worthington had done the exact same thing—handed her the divorce agreement, without so much as a pen.He must have been certain she'd never actually go through with it. That she'd never dare leave Beasley. Why bother bringing a pen?But that didn't matter. He hadn't brought one—but she had.Calmly, Willow drew a fountain pen from the pocket of her coat, flipped open the paperwork right in front of him, and signed her name in a strong, steady hand.Alistair jolted back to attention, then frowned, his voice cold as ice. "Miss Sheffield, you haven't even read the agreement."Willow didn't bother to look up. "No need. I have no objections."She had an exceptional memory—she'd already pored over this agreement in her previous life, line by line. There was no point in reading it again.She signed her name at lightning speed and handed the papers back to him, her movements swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation."Please ask Attorney Worthington to let Mr. Windsor know that we'll be finalizing the divorce at city hall tomorrow at nine. He must make time and absolutely cannot be late."She paused, then added, "Attorney Worthington is surely aware that the new one-month ‘cooling off' period for divorces goes into effect on the first of next month. I have no intention of dragging this out another month."The message could not have been more humiliating.A flicker of disbelief crossed Attorney Worthington's eyes, but he quickly regained his composure. In his mind, Willow's forced bravado was both pitiable and faintly ridiculous.He accepted the agreement, his gaze lingering on the dark circles beneath Willow's eyes, lips curled in a half-smile. "Understood. I'll relay your message to President Windsor exactly as you said, Miss Sheffield."Willow had no time for the attorney's patronizing tone. She stood up and showed him to the door without another word.Once her unwelcome guest was gone, she wasted no time, hurrying back to her room to pack her things.It took her about ten minutes to finish.Not that she had little to take—after all, she'd moved in at twenty, before she even graduated college, and had lived here for three years. She'd accumulated plenty.But she didn't want anything from this place anymore. She left behind all the expensive clothes and jewelry her in-laws had given her on behalf of the Windsor family. She took only what was truly hers: a few books, important documents, and her laptop.When you've reached the point of utter disappointment and disgust with someone, you don't want to touch a single thing connected to them.All Willow wanted now was to sever ties with Beasley Windsor completely, to live the rest of her life as if they'd never met.Otherwise, she was afraid she might not be able to stop herself from destroying him.At noon, Beasley had reserved a lavish private suite at the Silverton Club—the most exclusive spot in Kingston City—to welcome back his childhood friend, York Sinclair, who'd just returned from abroad.It was right around then that Alistair called.Beasley's strikingly handsome face was set in a frosty mask as he ignored the incoming call.York, sitting beside him, noticed and raised an amused eyebrow. "Who's calling? That thrift-store girlfriend of yours doing a little checking up?""Bargain Bin Girl" was their circle's inside joke for Willow—one of the few things they all agreed on.Beasley's reply was flat. "No." He had zero interest in talking about anything related to that woman.York looked ready to dig for more, but Beasley didn't give him the chance. He changed the subject. "So, you're back for good this time?"York, unusually serious, nodded. "Yeah, I'm staying. Time to strike out on my own and build my own little empire.""Not taking over your dad's company?" Beasley didn't sound surprised, but asked anyway.York glanced at his friend, his smile carrying a hidden edge. "Taking over would cost too much—you know what I mean."Beasley's expression didn't change. He picked up his glass. "If you need anything, just ask."York lifted his own in response. "Don't worry, I won't hesitate."The two clinked glasses and downed their drinks in a single gulp.After leaving the villa that morning, Willow checked into a downtown luxury hotel instead of going back to her father's house.She wanted to keep everything quiet until the divorce was finalized. No one could know—not her father, not her in-laws. If her dad found out, he'd be heartbroken. If her in-laws knew, they'd certainly try to intervene.Neither outcome was what she wanted.Just then, her phone rang.She glanced at the screen. It was Ablitt, her editor."STAR, there's an issue with your new book. Can we meet to talk?"Hearing the urgency in Ablitt's voice, Willow immediately guessed what it was about.She feigned ignorance. "Right now?""Yes, right now!"She paused, thinking it over. "Alright. Where should we meet?"Ablitt gave her a time and place over the phone. He even offered to pick her up, but Willow politely declined.They arranged to meet at one o'clock in a stylish downtown café, booking a private room.Willow arrived five minutes early.As soon as Ablitt walked in, his face lit up and some of his tension seemed to melt away. "Willow, it's been way too long!" he exclaimed, almost relieved.They'd gone to the same high school—she was a year behind him—and had gotten to know each other through an extracurricular club. That old connection was why Willow agreed to meet in person.Still, Ablitt had promised not to let anyone at the publishing office know about their history. At work, he only ever called her by her pen name, "STAR."Once they were both seated, Willow smiled, her words carrying a double meaning. "Yes, it really has been a while, Ablitt."It had been over four years since they'd last seen each other—at least, in this lifetime.Willow didn't waste time on small talk. "Is this about the plagiarism accusations against my new book?" she asked directly.Ablitt hesitated, surprised. "So you already know?"Willow's expression was calm. "Before I came, I logged into my author account at the publishing house. The comments were… lively, to say the least. I checked the trending topics too. It wasn't hard to figure out."Ablitt frowned in concern. "I've seen the comparison charts the internet sleuths made, and the web novel you're accused of copying. There are two suspiciously similar scenes in the opening chapters, and even a few of the made-up terms are identical. Sure, all that only makes up less than five percent of your book, but there's a core plot twist that overlaps too. Even though that author handled it terribly, the online crowd just won't let it go."He hesitated, worry etched on his face. "Willow, is it possible your draft got leaked?"No matter what, he couldn't believe Willow would ever plagiarize.Willow was known for her wild imagination and originality—her sci-fi novels had a cult following. To maintain an air of mystery, she'd never revealed anything about herself besides her pen name—not even her gender or age. She never serialized her work online, either; every book was a print exclusive, released once a year, and every single one was a bestseller, selling well over a million copies.The book in question, *Fleeting Shadows*, was her fifth, and it had only hit the shelves at the start of the month.Willow searched her memory, trying to recall every detail. A fleeting image surfaced.She nodded thoughtfully. "Actually, the idea for this book started taking shape three years ago…"Chapter 3"You could strip naked and kneel in front of me, and I still wouldn't fuck you."That cold, familiar voice detonated in Willow Sheffield's mind, sharp as a dagger and just as painful.Beasley Windsor. The man who wanted her gone for good.Willow's eyes flew open, shock and fury swirling in her gaze, laced with confusion."I warned you the day we got married: you're never to enter my study. You crossed a line."His tone grew more impatient with every word. Standing over her, he stared down at the woman sprawled on the floor, feigning unconsciousness, his brow furrowing deeper. "Are you deaf? Get out. Now."For a moment, Willow didn't move. Then, finally, she stirred.She pushed herself up, barely glancing his way before turning her face aside—"Ugh!"The retching sound was answer enough.Beasley's handsome features darkened, his jaw clenched like iron. "If you're going to be sick, do it in your own room. Don't ruin my floors."Willow ignored his biting sarcasm, clamped a hand over her mouth, and fled down the hall.Only after slamming her bedroom door behind her did the nausea begin to ebb.She leaned against the door, catching her breath for a long minute before moving to the vanity. She had to check—she had to know.When her eyes met the reflection in the mirror—a youthful, beautiful face, alive and familiar—her heart began to thrum, faster and faster.She'd been reborn.She was back, four years ago, on the very night she'd put on that ridiculous silk nightgown and tried to seduce Beasley into fulfilling their so-called marital "duties" in his study.If only she could have come back one day earlier—she could have erased this humiliating memory entirely.Just thinking of how she'd once fallen for that cold, ruthless man made her stomach churn again.Well, at least the divorce would come soon enough.As she was lost in thought, the sound of a car engine roaring to life drifted in from outside the window.Just like last time. Beasley was gone before dawn, abandoning the villa—and he wouldn't be back for half a year.How had she felt back then? Panicked. Helpless. Small and utterly defeated.But now? Now, she felt nothing but relief—almost a lightness in her chest.Willow headed for the bathroom, intent on a long, hot shower and a good night's sleep.She was exhausted.But sleep brought no peace. Nightmares stalked her: her father, falsely accused and thrown into prison by one of his own students; herself, begging Beasley for help, only to be locked away by three strangers with predatory eyes; the terror of plunging seven stories toward the ground—Willow woke drenched in sweat, heart racing, breath coming hard and fast.It was a long time before she calmed down enough to look at her phone. Just past two in the morning.She curled up on her side, swallowed by the darkness, lost in memories of the life she'd left behind—and the uncertain road ahead.At nine the next morning, Kingston's most renowned attorney, Alistair Worthington, arrived with the divorce papers Beasley had ordered him to prepare the night before."Mr. Windsor's instructions are clear, Miss Sheffield. If you sign now, you keep the Baycrest villa. Otherwise…you get nothing."Nothing? Would he wipe her off the face of the earth?Willow let out a cold, mirthless laugh and held out her hand. "Pen."Alistair blinked, clearly stunned, frozen for a moment as if he couldn't believe what he'd heard.Willow wasn't surprised. In her previous life, Attorney Worthington had done the exact same thing—handed her the divorce agreement, without so much as a pen.He must have been certain she'd never actually go through with it. That she'd never dare leave Beasley. Why bother bringing a pen?But that didn't matter. He hadn't brought one—but she had.Calmly, Willow drew a fountain pen from the pocket of her coat, flipped open the paperwork right in front of him, and signed her name in a strong, steady hand.Alistair jolted back to attention, then frowned, his voice cold as ice. "Miss Sheffield, you haven't even read the agreement."Willow didn't bother to look up. "No need. I have no objections."She had an exceptional memory—she'd already pored over this agreement in her previous life, line by line. There was no point in reading it again.She signed her name at lightning speed and handed the papers back to him, her movements swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation."Please ask Attorney Worthington to let Mr. Windsor know that we'll be finalizing the divorce at city hall tomorrow at nine. He must make time and absolutely cannot be late."She paused, then added, "Attorney Worthington is surely aware that the new one-month ‘cooling off' period for divorces goes into effect on the first of next month. I have no intention of dragging this out another month."The message could not have been more humiliating.A flicker of disbelief crossed Attorney Worthington's eyes, but he quickly regained his composure. In his mind, Willow's forced bravado was both pitiable and faintly ridiculous.He accepted the agreement, his gaze lingering on the dark circles beneath Willow's eyes, lips curled in a half-smile. "Understood. I'll relay your message to President Windsor exactly as you said, Miss Sheffield."Willow had no time for the attorney's patronizing tone. She stood up and showed him to the door without another word.Once her unwelcome guest was gone, she wasted no time, hurrying back to her room to pack her things.It took her about ten minutes to finish.Not that she had little to take—after all, she'd moved in at twenty, before she even graduated college, and had lived here for three years. She'd accumulated plenty.But she didn't want anything from this place anymore. She left behind all the expensive clothes and jewelry her in-laws had given her on behalf of the Windsor family. She took only what was truly hers: a few books, important documents, and her laptop.When you've reached the point of utter disappointment and disgust with someone, you don't want to touch a single thing connected to them.All Willow wanted now was to sever ties with Beasley Windsor completely, to live the rest of her life as if they'd never met.Otherwise, she was afraid she might not be able to stop herself from destroying him.At noon, Beasley had reserved a lavish private suite at the Silverton Club—the most exclusive spot in Kingston City—to welcome back his childhood friend, York Sinclair, who'd just returned from abroad.It was right around then that Alistair called.Beasley's strikingly handsome face was set in a frosty mask as he ignored the incoming call.York, sitting beside him, noticed and raised an amused eyebrow. "Who's calling? That thrift-store girlfriend of yours doing a little checking up?""Bargain Bin Girl" was their circle's inside joke for Willow—one of the few things they all agreed on.Beasley's reply was flat. "No." He had zero interest in talking about anything related to that woman.York looked ready to dig for more, but Beasley didn't give him the chance. He changed the subject. "So, you're back for good this time?"York, unusually serious, nodded. "Yeah, I'm staying. Time to strike out on my own and build my own little empire.""Not taking over your dad's company?" Beasley didn't sound surprised, but asked anyway.York glanced at his friend, his smile carrying a hidden edge. "Taking over would cost too much—you know what I mean."Beasley's expression didn't change. He picked up his glass. "If you need anything, just ask."York lifted his own in response. "Don't worry, I won't hesitate."The two clinked glasses and downed their drinks in a single gulp.After leaving the villa that morning, Willow checked into a downtown luxury hotel instead of going back to her father's house.She wanted to keep everything quiet until the divorce was finalized. No one could know—not her father, not her in-laws. If her dad found out, he'd be heartbroken. If her in-laws knew, they'd certainly try to intervene.Neither outcome was what she wanted.Just then, her phone rang.She glanced at the screen. It was Ablitt, her editor."STAR, there's an issue with your new book. Can we meet to talk?"Hearing the urgency in Ablitt's voice, Willow immediately guessed what it was about.She feigned ignorance. "Right now?""Yes, right now!"She paused, thinking it over. "Alright. Where should we meet?"Ablitt gave her a time and place over the phone. He even offered to pick her up, but Willow politely declined.They arranged to meet at one o'clock in a stylish downtown café, booking a private room.Willow arrived five minutes early.As soon as Ablitt walked in, his face lit up and some of his tension seemed to melt away. "Willow, it's been way too long!" he exclaimed, almost relieved.They'd gone to the same high school—she was a year behind him—and had gotten to know each other through an extracurricular club. That old connection was why Willow agreed to meet in person.Still, Ablitt had promised not to let anyone at the publishing office know about their history. At work, he only ever called her by her pen name, "STAR."Once they were both seated, Willow smiled, her words carrying a double meaning. "Yes, it really has been a while, Ablitt."It had been over four years since they'd last seen each other—at least, in this lifetime.Willow didn't waste time on small talk. "Is this about the plagiarism accusations against my new book?" she asked directly.Ablitt hesitated, surprised. "So you already know?"Willow's expression was calm. "Before I came, I logged into my author account at the publishing house. The comments were… lively, to say the least. I checked the trending topics too. It wasn't hard to figure out."Ablitt frowned in concern. "I've seen the comparison charts the internet sleuths made, and the web novel you're accused of copying. There are two suspiciously similar scenes in the opening chapters, and even a few of the made-up terms are identical. Sure, all that only makes up less than five percent of your book, but there's a core plot twist that overlaps too. Even though that author handled it terribly, the online crowd just won't let it go."He hesitated, worry etched on his face. "Willow, is it possible your draft got leaked?"No matter what, he couldn't believe Willow would ever plagiarize.Willow was known for her wild imagination and originality—her sci-fi novels had a cult following. To maintain an air of mystery, she'd never revealed anything about herself besides her pen name—not even her gender or age. She never serialized her work online, either; every book was a print exclusive, released once a year, and every single one was a bestseller, selling well over a million copies.The book in question, *Fleeting Shadows*, was her fifth, and it had only hit the shelves at the start of the month.Willow searched her memory, trying to recall every detail. A fleeting image surfaced.She nodded thoughtfully. "Actually, the idea for this book started taking shape three years ago…"