For nine years, the heir to the Rhodes family fortune pretended he was poor. For me. He even had our son in on the secret, hiding the truth of their lives from me. When a voice in my head—a System, it called itself—told me I could finally leave this world, I thought it was the perfect ending. The heir would get the wife he was always meant to have, someone of equal standing. Our son would get a new mother he would adore. And I would get to go home. My real home. But a short time later, the System delivered a notification that made my blood run cold. "Host, they have been granted an opportunity to find you." My question was sharp, immediate. "Did you give it to them?" "No," the voice replied. “They begged for it.” 1 The world came back into focus with the sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic. I’d blacked out on the subway, a dizzying spell brought on by low blood sugar. Now, I was in a hospital bed. “Mom, why do you always have to make a scene?” Noah’s little face was pinched with an annoyance that was too big for his seven years. “Dad and I were about to go to the… the park.” The word “park” hung in the air, a clumsy lie. A wave of ice water washed over me, and the words I wanted to say froze in my throat. Noah crossed his arms over his chest. “You can get home by yourself later, right? Dad and I are busy.” I managed a numb nod. As soon as he left, I discharged myself. The exhaustion that settled deep in my bones felt more psychological than physical. I collapsed onto our small sofa, the worn springs groaning in protest. Suddenly, a strange, static buzz crackled in my mind. Bzzzt— Connection established. Host, I’ve finally found you. Before I could process it, a torrent of information flooded my thoughts. My apologies, Host. A critical error during transmission caused me to lose contact with you. Your original mission was to capture the heart of Ethan Rhodes, the heir to the Rhodes family fortune. “Ethan Rhodes?” I whispered to the empty room. The voice continued, oblivious. Well, what do you know? It seems you’re already well on your way! Your progress is at 89%, and you even have a child together. So, the man I had rescued from the street, the man I had built a life with, was an heir to one of the most powerful families in New York. 2 When I first arrived in this world, I had nothing. No memories, just five hundred dollars and a driver’s license in a name that felt like a stranger’s. To survive, I took any job I could find. I handed out flyers in Times Square, washed dishes in the greasy kitchens of late-night diners. I learned the city from its underbelly. I was working as an aide at an assisted living facility in Queens when I found him. He was unconscious in an alley behind the building, looking even more destitute than I was. Not a single dollar in his pockets. But his face, even bruised and pale, had a refined quality—the kind of bone structure that money creates over generations. A wild thought sparked in my mind: if I saved him, maybe this was my ticket out. My one-in-a-million shot at a different life. Because God, I was so tired of working three jobs just to stay afloat. But it didn’t play out like a fairytale. When he woke up, Ethan told me he was homeless, with no one to turn to. Maybe it was loneliness, or maybe I was just captivated by his movie-star looks. For reasons I couldn’t quite articulate, we ended up sharing my tiny studio apartment. Looking back now, I see it clearly. His entire life with me began with a lie. 3 Host, I can’t believe he’d keep this from you for nine years. He’s got to be the cheapest billionaire heir I’ve ever encountered, the System noted, its tone laced with digital sympathy. It was a good system. It just came nine years too late. I had no appetite to cook lunch. Instead, I ordered all my favorite takeout dishes from a place down the street, a small indulgence I rarely allowed myself. Our life together had been built on small things. The casual intimacy that grows between two people sharing a small space, a shared future. We’d split a single order of Pad Thai to save money, worn matching five-dollar t-shirts from a street vendor. I used to fantasize about the cozy, loving home we would build, a fortress against the world. Then, after one reckless, beautiful night, came Noah. There was no wedding. The simple silver bands we wore? I paid for them with my savings. Ethan held me tight that day, promising he would make it all up to me, that I just needed to wait a little longer. After Noah was born, our financial situation mysteriously improved. The cramped studio was replaced by a two-bedroom apartment. I assumed Ethan’s freelance graphic design work had finally taken off. He said he’d handle childcare so I could pick up more shifts at the restaurant, my nights and days blurring into a constant cycle of work. By the time Noah was three, Ethan was barely home. He was always taking our son on “outings,” but he was always vague about where they went. If I pressed, Noah would snap with a frustratingly adult impatience, “You wouldn’t get it, Mom.” He must have known by then. He must have known his father was a Rhodes. The family wouldn’t have let their heir’s son live in squalor. Noah had probably been welcomed into the fold years ago. And me? I was working weekends, killing myself to earn a little extra cash, my entire monthly salary probably not even enough to cover the cost of one of Ethan’s tailored shirts. The sound of the front door opening shattered my thoughts. It was Ethan and Noah. There was no concern on their faces, only surprise at finding me home so early. Seeing the takeout containers on the coffee table, Noah wrinkled his nose and tugged on Ethan’s pant leg. “I don’t want Mommy’s food. I already…” “Noah!” Ethan’s voice was sharp. He turned to me, his expression softening into a familiar, placating mask. “Mia, don’t worry so much about things like this. I’ll take care of him.” I remembered all the times Noah had thrown a tantrum at the dinner table, refusing to eat the food I’d made. Ethan would always play the part of the strict father, scolding him. I would then rush in to soothe Noah, who would be blinking back crocodile tears. I was so naive. I thought Ethan was defending my feelings. Now I realize he was just terrified our son would slip up and reveal the truth. Just like in the hospital this morning. Noah didn’t mean to say “park.” He meant to say “the office,” didn’t he? It was all there, all along. I just never let myself see it. I stood and began gathering the empty containers. “I have to get back to work. There’s a lot to do.” The moment the System told me Ethan was just a mission objective, a strange sense of relief washed over me. It meant my investment wasn’t a total loss. At least I’d get something out of this. I wouldn’t walk away with absolutely nothing. Ethan’s eyes narrowed, sensing the shift in my mood. “Noah and I will pick you up after your shift.” “Okay,” I said. 4 Host, do you want to exit this world? I can file a request for early mission completion. Due to our technical error, you’ll receive your full reward plus a compensation package. Of course, you can also choose to stay. I walked down the quiet street, thinking. “Why was I brought here in the first place?” You saved a drowning child in your original world. “What happened to her?” She’s in an orphanage. She’s physically fine, but her emotional state is… fragile at times. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the oak trees, dappling the sidewalk in patterns of light and shadow. The breeze felt free. In that moment, for the first time in a long time, I felt like myself. Ethan was supposed to pick me up after work. I waited for over half an hour, but there was no sign of him. No reply to my texts. My legs started to ache from standing, so I decided to duck into the nearby high-end mall for a drink and a place to sit. The ground floor was a glittering expanse of luxury brands. As I passed a jewelry counter, a child’s voice, high and excited, cut through the quiet hum of the store. “Sloane, you look like a real princess with that on!” It was Noah. “You’re just saying that to be sweet,” a woman’s musical voice laughed. “What do you think, Ethan?” “It’s nice,” Ethan’s voice was smooth, casual. “Didn’t I just have a custom piece made for you last week?” “A girl can never have too many pretty things.” I saw them then. The woman was stunning, dressed in an elegant dress that clung to her frame, her aura bright and untouched by the grime of the world. Noah orbited her, his eyes shining with an adoration I hadn’t seen directed at me in years. When did he stop looking at me like that?
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