Author: Momo Chan

1 A new spicy noodle bar opened downstairs. Not feeling like cooking, I dragged my boyfriend over to give it a try. When it was time to pay, I was floored. The bill was two hundred and eighty-eight dollars. I immediately confronted the waitress. “I had potatoes and cabbage, not lobster and filet mignon! You’ve made a mistake with the price.” The waitress just rolled her eyes, her chin tilted defiantly high. “If you can’t afford it, why are you eating out? Are you trying to dine and dash?” I had no interest in arguing with someone so unreasonable. I told her to get her boss. But before the waitress could even respond, my own boyfriend turned on me, his voice sharp with anger. “You eat, you pay. It’s common sense. What’s the big deal, bullying a young girl like this? Just pay the bill! You’re so embarrassing!” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. When I got home, I threw the bastard’s things out the door. “Get out,” I told him. “I’m done being your sucker.” — Slumped on the sofa after work, I scrolled endlessly through a food delivery app, unable to decide what to eat. My boyfriend, Nick, thought for a moment. “That new spicy noodle bar downstairs? Want to go check it out?” he suggested. It solved my dilemma. The shop was clean and simple. We were past the dinner rush, so there weren’t many customers. The vegetables in the selection bar looked a little wilted, probably because we’d arrived so late. A young waitress approached us with a bright smile. “We also have deluxe options, with fresh seafood. Would you like to try some?” I quickly shook my head, declining. Nick and I filled our bowls with our choices, handed them to the young waitress, and took a number to our table. When the noodle bowls arrived, the broth looked surprisingly light. I like my food with a kick, so I called the waitress over to ask for some extra chili oil and seasoning. She had already turned to leave. “If it’s not enough, you can always add more ingredients later,” she said over her shoulder. “Any more sauce and it’ll be way too salty.” Her words left me speechless for a few seconds. Before I could think of a reply, the cashier called out to her. “Fiona, come over here and show me how to ring this up.” The waitress, Fiona, called back an “Okay!” and walked away. Nick was already eating. He looked up from his bowl, frowning. “It tastes fine. Stop being so picky.” A knot of irritation tightened in my chest. I silently pulled out my phone, snapped a picture of my bowl and Nick’s, and sent it to my friends’ group chat with a warning to steer clear. Nick finished first and went outside for a smoke. I went to the counter to pay. And that’s when it happened. “That’ll be two hundred eighty-eight dollars. Credit or debit?” My eyes went wide. I thought I must have misheard. Did she think we’d ordered the deluxe seafood platters? I immediately called Fiona back over. “I had potatoes and cabbage, not lobster and filet mignon! You’ve got the price wrong.” Fiona’s sunny expression instantly clouded over, her face falling into a long, sour mask. I took a deep breath, trying to de-escalate. Fiona waved the cashier away and picked up the bill herself. She glanced at it, then looked at me. “This is the price. There’s no mistake. This is what you ate.” I couldn’t believe it. Was this some kind of restaurant shakedown? 2 I took another deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm. “Two bowls of noodles for two hundred and eighty-eight dollars? Are your prices even legal? Get your boss out here. I’ll talk to him!” It was clear this young waitress, Fiona, was determined to be unreasonable. I didn’t want to waste my breath on her; I’d deal with the owner directly. I was trying my best to be civil, but Fiona’s attitude was bizarre. She almost looked… smug. “Our boss isn’t here. You ate the food, you pay the money. It’s that simple. Don’t try to scare me by asking for the manager!” The other customers in the shop turned to stare, their eyes glinting with curiosity. Fiona covered her mouth in a theatrical gasp, her voice suddenly trembling and pitiful. “You’re not… you’re not trying to dine and dash, are you? I’m just a waitress. I can’t afford to pay for your meal.” At that, the customers’ curious glances turned into full-blown gossiping stares, all directed at me. Nick, noticing I was taking a long time, came back inside. “What’s going on? Hurry up and pay so we can go.” I quickly explained the situation. “Two bowls of noodles, all veggies and tofu, and she’s trying to charge me $288! She’s treating me like a complete idiot!” Fiona looked even more wronged than I felt. Her eyes grew red as she looked at Nick. “Sir, I already gave your girlfriend a discount. Is it really that hard for her to pay for two bowls of noodles?” I almost laughed out loud. The way Fiona was looking at my boyfriend, her eyes practically sparkling… “Stop playing the victim with my boyfriend,” I snapped. “A scam is a scam!” “Get your boss out here. If he dares to post that price on a sign by the door for everyone to see, I’ll pay it right now!” I tugged on Nick’s sleeve, expecting him to back me up. Instead, his next words were a slap in the face. Nick didn’t even look at me. His gaze flickered over Fiona’s face before he violently yanked his arm away from my grasp. “Just pay for the food!” he hissed. “What’s all the fuss about?! Get it over with!” I stared at him, my eyes wide with disbelief. The restaurant was clearly trying to rip us off, and not only was he not on my side, he was attacking me for standing up for myself. “No!” I shouted. “This is a scam, and I’m not falling for it!” As if frightened by my outburst, Fiona looked even more pathetic, tears welling in her eyes as she gazed at Nick. “I’m just a waitress,” she whispered. “You ate the food. You can’t expect me to pay for it, can you?” Her voice cracked. “You’re just picking on me because I’m an easy target. I work so hard, day in and day out… a scam like this would wipe out half a month’s wages!” She pressed on, “And now you want to get my boss involved. Are you trying to get me fired? Can’t you just leave me with a way to make a living?” 3 As Fiona spoke, tears streamed down her face, making her look innocent and utterly pitiful. It was a masterclass in manipulation. But I was confused. I had made it crystal clear: if her boss confirmed the price and made it public for all customers, I would pay. How was I the one making things difficult for her? Right now, it felt like she was the one deliberately cornering me. Nick’s brow was furrowed in a deep frown. He looked at Fiona with an expression that looked suspiciously like… pity? Was I seeing things? He pulled out his phone and started to scan the QR code at the register. “Alright, I’ll pay. This is so embarrassing. Why do you have to pick on a young girl like that!” I slapped my hand over the code, pushing his phone away. “Why should you? This isn’t over until her boss comes out here and clarifies the price!” I was the one being wronged. If he paid, it would be an admission of my guilt, painting me as the bully. I glared at Nick, furious. I couldn’t believe he didn’t understand that. Nick’s face grew darker, his patience worn thin. He met my gaze. “Yara, stop making a scene.” A chill went through me. With those words, he had officially taken the side of the person who was trying to hurt me. “Fine. Fine. This is my problem. You stay out of it.” My voice was ice. I turned away from him, my silence a clear statement. Suddenly, Fiona broke. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hands, her voice rising in a furious shout. “You ate the food and you won’t pay! Have you no shame? You just want to bully a poor waitress, is that it?” She took a dramatic breath. “Fine! Have your free meal! I’ll pay for it myself, alright?!” That did it. The other customers couldn’t stay silent any longer. A chorus of condemnation rose around me. “It’s not easy for a young waitress. You ate, you pay. Why make things hard for her?” “Exactly! You’re being completely unreasonable. This place is clean, the food is good, the portions are generous, and the prices are fair. How dare you call them a scam?” “Just pay the girl! She’s been running around serving everyone, and you’re bullying her? That’s just awful.” “Right? If you don’t have money, don’t eat out. It’s simple.” “She looks so well-dressed and put-together. You really can’t judge a book by its cover.” 4 In an instant, I was public enemy number one. But… two hundred and eighty-eight dollars for two bowls of noodles. That was a fair price? Had I completely lost touch with reality? The people around me were incensed, their glares burning into me. Someone even had their phone out, recording. I fought the urge to scream. In a steady voice, I repeated, “I just want her boss to resolve this. I am not trying to get out of paying.” “I don’t want a free meal, but I refuse to be a sucker.” I looked directly at Fiona. “Your pricing is unreasonable. I’m not trying to cause trouble for you. I just want to speak with the owner.” I thought I was being incredibly composed. But Fiona ignored everything I said, her lip trembling. “It all comes down to the same thing. You can’t afford two bowls of noodles, so you’re trying to dine and dash.” I was speechless. It was like she couldn’t understand plain English. Nick’s face was flushed with embarrassment from all the stares. He just wanted it to be over. “Alright. I’ll handle this. You go outside,” he said, pushing me towards the door. “I’ll pay. I don’t understand why you have to pick on this girl. You ate the food, just pay for it! This is so humiliating.”

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My only friend was from another world. Her mission here, she said, was to save me. She believed in me, protected me, and poured everything she had into helping my husband claim the imperial throne. In the end, she found a love she believed was true, a man she would die for. This world, she told me, had finally given her a home. She wanted to stay. But then I came galloping back from the frontier, riding my horse to its death. All I found was her body, pale and frail, lying cold as ice in a lonely jade coffin. Beside it, her husband stood frozen, a silent statue of a man. Her young son whispered with relief, “Good. I never wanted a crazy woman for a mother anyway.” My gaze fell upon the woman standing beside them, dabbing at false tears. And I thought, I don’t have to pretend anymore. After today, they would learn what a real monster was. 1 When Marcia slit her wrist, there was no hesitation. The physician who examined her said the gash was terrifyingly deep—a wound inflicted by someone with no will to live. A normal person, he’d whispered, could never be so cruel to themselves. Especially not Marcia, who was always so afraid of pain. She was the kind of girl who’d cry over a paper cut, milking it for one of my honeyed cakes. I stared down at her in the jade coffin. Except for the stark pallor of her skin, she almost looked alive. Her beloved husband, Adrian, stood beside the coffin. At his side was a woman in a delicate pink dress, her hand resting on the shoulder of a young boy who looked so much like Marcia it made my heart ache. I let my eyes travel over this pretty little scene, and I finally understood why Marcia had lost all hope. The woman in pink stepped forward and dipped into a flawless curtsy. “Your Majesty, I wish you peace.” I stared at her, my eyes cold, letting her hang in that uncomfortable bow. I watched the muscles in her thighs tremble. My lady-in-waiting moved without a word. A sharp crack echoed as her boot met the back of the woman’s knee. She crumpled to the floor with a pathetic thud, and only then did the knot in my brow begin to loosen. “Aunt Serena!” two voices cried out. The boy, Noah, rushed forward to help her up, but he froze when he saw the look on my face. Adrian simply stared at the coffin, lost to the world, oblivious. It was Serena who saved herself. Without a word of complaint, she lowered her head to the floor. “A thousand years to Your Majesty,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It was this humble woman’s ignorance. I beg the Queen’s forgiveness.” My eyes narrowed. She was clever, this Serena. She knew I was a storm of rage, and that no words, especially from Adrian or his son, could calm me. Their pleas would only fuel my fire. Submission was her only weapon, a clever way to corner me. Marcia never stood a chance against her. I took two steps forward, my silk slippers, embroidered with shimmering thread, pressing down on the fine fabric of her dress. A servant silently placed a chair behind me. I took Serena’s wrist in my hand. A circlet of shimmering green jade graced her skin. It wasn’t a priceless treasure, but I knew what it was. It was the prize Marcia’s seven-year-old son, Noah, had won at the Royal Academy. He had boasted to all his friends that he would win it for his mother. It was I who had instructed the headmaster to ensure Noah won that prize. And now, it was on another woman’s wrist. My fingers closed around the jade. With a sharp, brutal tug, I ripped it from her arm. “My hand slipped,” I said, my voice sweet as poison. “You mustn’t blame me.” Two raw, red marks bloomed on her pale skin, angry and vicious. “This servant wouldn’t dare,” she choked out, biting her lip, looking every bit as pitiful as her name suggested. Marcia would have fallen for that act. Whenever she was angry with me, I would put on the same face, and her resolve would melt. I could coax anything from her then. But who was Serena to me? My hand drifted to her earlobe, where a pair of magnificent pearls dangled. They were my wedding gift to Marcia. I ripped them free without a shred of mercy. Blood streamed from the torn flesh. Noah could no longer contain himself and fell to his knees beside her. “Auntie Brenda, please! I gave them to Auntie Serena! Mother said I could! Please don’t hurt her!” I toyed with the blood-streaked pearls, my expression placid. “And what if I decide to punish her anyway?” Without Marcia, Noah was nothing more than a piece of flesh in my eyes. I had rarely spoken to him with such chilling coldness. He stumbled forward, grabbing at the hem of my gown, trying to win me over with the childish charm that always worked before. My eyes flashed. A guard stepped forward, his blade a silver blur, aimed for Noah’s arm. “What filth dares to touch the Queen!” I turned away from the terrified boy, his face a mask of white, and gestured for my guards to take Marcia’s coffin. As if waking from a trance, Adrian drew his sword, blocking their path. “No one will take Marcia from me!” Adrian was a high-ranking official, a close confidant of the Emperor, William. My guards hesitated, unwilling to harm him. Fine. I would do it myself. My own sword lunged for his heart, without a flicker of doubt. But in the instant before the steel met his skin, a heavy blow struck the back of my neck. Darkness swallowed me whole. 2 It was William. Though the servants wouldn’t dare say it aloud, there was only one person in the entire empire who would lay a hand on me. He didn’t have the courage to face me himself. He sent an imperial decree instead, posthumously naming Marcia a Grand Princess. I shredded the decree with the golden hairpin he had given me. The palace staff knelt in a silent sea around me. The Serene Palace was deathly quiet until William finally arrived. “Brenda,” he said, his voice strained. “Marcia is gone. If you are not satisfied, I can grant her even greater honors.” “How about I kill Serena,” I replied sweetly, “and you can grant her the title of Empress?” William fell silent. “I want them to join Marcia in death.” “That’s impossible.” “Fine.” My answer was so swift it caught him off guard. He looked up, startled. “What did you say?” “I said, fine.” I would do it my way. I forbade anyone from holding a memorial for Marcia—none of them were worthy. Then, I sent my people to the Adrian’s estate to reclaim everything that had ever belonged to her. Adrian met them in the courtyard, sword in hand. Serena knelt beside him, biting her lip, a silent, suffering statue. I merely lifted a hand. My guards swarmed in, pinning Adrian to the ground. His knees slammed onto the marble floor with a sickening crack. He had knelt before me just like this once, years ago, when he begged for Marcia’s hand. I had discovered their secret affair and, to protect Marcia’s reputation, forbade them from seeing each other. So Adrian knelt before the entire court, pleading for me to approve their marriage. Without my blessing, not even his deep friendship with William could secure him an imperial decree. Back then, I had asked Marcia, “If you marry him, you can never go back.” A blush crept up her cheeks. “Brenda, he swore he would have only me for the rest of his life. I want to try.” “And if you’re wrong?” “Then I’m wrong.” Marcia, for all her gentle looks, was fiercely intelligent and stubborn. I knew that better than anyone. Her decision to leave this world was as absolute as her decision to choose Adrian had been. She used to teach me when we were young. “The greatest victory is not won on the battlefield,” she’d say, “but in the mind.” 3 I was only eight years old then. My half-sister, the daughter of my father’s mistress, had stolen a brocade robe—a final gift from my deceased mother. I went to my father. “A wildcat tore the robe,” he told me. “Father will buy you a new one.” Later, passing my half-sister’s courtyard, I heard her showing it off to the other girls, bragging about the magnificent fabric, the exquisite embroidery, the precious gems sewn into the collar. As they gasped in admiration, I walked into their circle, scissors in hand. I pinned her to the ground and shredded the robe right off her body, slicing it into ribbons. When my father arrived, my half-sister had forgotten how to cry. She only stared in terror until she saw him, then she started screaming for help. I stood over her, holding the blood-tipped scissors, and looked my father dead in the eye. “A wildcat tore my robe,” I said calmly. “Remember to buy me a new one, Father.” Perhaps my gaze was too serene, too unnerving. He forgot to scold me. I walked away through the path the silent, stunned crowd made for me. The next day, an identical robe was delivered to my chambers. I heard my half-sister’s mother had to empty her entire savings to pay for the physicians. I never saw her near my side of the estate again. Whispers about me spread through the capital. They said I was cruel, bloodthirsty, a monster who stalked the night. It was then that Marcia appeared in my life. The daughter of the Minister of Rites pushed me into a lake. I clawed my way back to the bank, grabbed her by the hair, and threw her in. She nearly drowned. The Minister went to the Emperor himself, demanding my father punish me severely. The Emperor asked for witnesses, but no one dared speak for me. Except for Marcia. “It was Lady Eleanor who accosted Lady Brenda first,” she said, her voice clear and steady. “If there is to be punishment, it should be delivered equally.” The Emperor, upon learning the truth, did not punish me. Instead, he ordered the Minister of Rites to better discipline his own child. Before, my only solution was to destroy anyone who wronged me. But Marcia taught me something new. Don’t ruin yourself just to punish someone else, she’d say. It’s not worth it. The goal is to make them suffer while ensuring they can never blame you. I warned her to stay away. “I’m poison,” I told her. Marcia just smiled. “Don’t worry. I brought the antidote.” After that, whenever I made a mess, Marcia was there to clean it up. The whispers stopped. No one called me a monster anymore. Instead, they saw a poor, motherless girl, bullied by her stepmother and half-sister. I once asked her why she helped me. She joked that with my status and name, I was destined to marry into the royal family, and she wanted to hitch her wagon to my star. I didn’t believe her. It wasn’t until my engagement to the Crown Prince, William, was announced that she told me the truth. She was from another world, she confessed, sent here to save me. Without her intervention, I was on a path to destroy the entire dynasty. But now, my life was on the right track. It was time for her to leave. To return to her world, she said, her physical body here had to die. She spoke of her home with such love. I couldn’t force her to stay. It was Adrian who convinced her. And at the time, I was happy for them. But I never imagined there would be a Serena. 4 Marcia’s death had indeed shaken Adrian, but his grief was a fleeting storm. Soon enough, he would forget his sins and resume his brilliant, glittering life. But my Marcia would be buried in the cold, lonely earth. I would not allow it. With Adrian forced to kneel in his own courtyard, my men brought out the wedding robes he and Marcia had worn. “These were Lady Marcia’s wedding garments.” I idly examined my fingernails. “Burn them.” “This is the furniture Lady Marcia purchased.” “Smash it.” “This is…” I made Adrian, Serena, and Noah watch as I systematically erased every trace of Marcia’s existence. Noah was still too young to understand, but Adrian’s eyes were bloodshot with fury. He growled like a caged animal. “Stop it! Stop! Marcia will come back! She’s just angry with me, that’s all… just like all the other times…” I clicked my tongue. Who was he trying to fool? My soldiers were efficient. Soon, the entire estate was stripped bare. Without Marcia’s dowry, the house was just an empty shell. This family had drunk her blood and then driven her to a cliff’s edge. I closed my eyes, a slow smile spreading across my lips. “Since you two are so deeply in love, I shall grant you a boon. I hereby decree that Serena is your lawful wife. From this day forward, Noah is her son.” Serena’s eyes lit up with disbelief and joy. As she was about to prostrate herself in gratitude, Adrian finally spoke. “I will have only one wife in this life—Marcia!” But Noah had already scrambled to Serena’s side, his voice ringing with delight. “Mother! I finally get to call you my mother! I never liked that old tigress anyway.” He then turned to his father. “Dad, didn’t you always say Auntie Serena was the kindest woman in the world?” Adrian’s face went white. He had no answer. I let out a soft laugh and left behind the royal decree of marriage. Weren’t they soulmates? Well, now they had their wish. No need to tarnish Marcia’s name any further. As I left, I tossed a single sheet of paper at Adrian’s feet. Two words were written on it, stark and clear: Decree of Severance. “Adrian,” I called back, “you are not worthy to share her grave.”

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The blizzard had turned the world into a ghost, and I was shooting the breeze with my colleague over the walkie-talkie to kill time. Through the thick, swirling snow, I saw a figure by a car, waving at me. A resident, I figured. I was about to head over, ready to score some points for the property management. Then, my colleague’s voice crackled urgently from the radio. “Sam, don’t go!” “The main roads are all closed. Who’d be trying to drive in this?” “That’s a bear wave!” 1 I’d heard the stories. Some bears, especially near populated areas, had learned to mimic human gestures. A friendly wave. A distress signal. In weather like this, a well-meaning person would think someone needed help. By the time they got close enough to see the truth, it was too late. You were food. The local news had just reported a bear escaping a nearby wildlife park. Our community wasn’t far. If Al hadn’t warned me, I can’t imagine what would’ve happened. A cold dread washed over me. I asked Al what to do. His grandfather had been a hunter up in the mountains, and the old man’s warning echoed through the radio: Never turn your back on a predator. I took his advice, turning off my radio to avoid any sudden noise and beginning a slow, deliberate retreat. But even though I tried to act casual, the hazy figure in the distance began to wave its arm faster, more frantically. The arc of its swing grew wider, a blur of motion no human arm could make. Was it dropping the act? Then, suddenly, it stopped. I blinked, and it was gone. Vanished into the whiteout. I scanned the area, my heart hammering against my ribs as a cold sweat beaded on my forehead. A terrifying thought bloomed in my mind. The frantic waving wasn’t just a threat; it was a distraction. It knew that I knew. It was trying to confuse me, to find a new angle of attack, one that would put it out of my line of sight. The situation had changed. I switched my radio back on, my voice trembling as I updated Al. I didn’t even finish my sentence. “Run, Sam!” his voice screamed, so loud it was distorted. “Run now!” Al’s panicked warning sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through me. I spun around and sprinted, a blind, desperate flight toward the security booth. The whole way, I didn’t feel the thunder of pursuit, and a sliver of relief cut through my panic. I was just at the door, fumbling for the handle. Whoosh! A blast of wind tore past my ear. A set of claws, massive and black, swiped through the space where my head had been a second before. It had somehow gotten behind me. If I hadn’t ducked to unlock the door at that exact moment, my skull would have been crushed. The force of its missed swing was so powerful that the creature stumbled, its heavy body unable to pivot quickly. That was all the time I needed. I lunged inside, slammed the heavy-duty door shut, and twisted the deadbolt. Only then, with the crisis momentarily averted, did my body give out. I collapsed against the wall, my limbs turning to jelly. Outside, I could hear ragged, guttural panting, punctuated by thunderous blows against the door. The force was incredible; the entire booth trembled with each impact. That’s when I realized the horrifying truth. It hadn’t just chased me. It had climbed the perimeter wall, taking a shortcut to head me off. Was this thing really a bear? The pounding continued for several minutes. Eventually, it must have realized the reinforced steel door wasn’t giving way. Thank God I’d complained about the winter cold and had management upgrade the old wooden shack to this insulated, fortified booth. Slowly, the sounds outside faded. Only then did I dare to switch on my radio again. “Al? You there?” “Jesus, Sam! Finally! I thought you were a goner!” I assured him I was safe and quickly recounted what had happened. There was a long silence on the other end, followed by a heavy sigh. “Sam, listen to me,” Al said, his voice grim. “From now on, no matter who knocks, you do not open that door.” “What’s going on? What do you mean?” “That bear… I think it’s eaten someone. It’s… leveled up.” “Leveled up? What the hell does that mean?” Suddenly… Knock. Knock. Knock. A polite, human knock at the door. Over the radio, Al’s voice was a desperate whisper. “Don’t open it, Sam. For the love of God, don’t open it.” Then, his radio went silent. I hesitated, then crept toward the door. The security monitors were useless, just a screen of snowy static from the blizzard. The only way to see out was the peephole. I bent down, peered through the small glass lens, and my blood ran cold. Standing outside was a man, bleeding heavily. I could just make out that it was Mr. Henderson, the owner of the little convenience store next to the complex. He’d clearly been attacked. He was looking at me, his eyes pleading for help. My hand instinctively went to the deadbolt. But Al’s warning held me back. Mr. Henderson was weak, his body slumped forward, dripping blood onto the fresh snow. It was that slump, that small detail, that made my eyes widen in horror. Behind him, pressed against the side wall of the booth, I saw it. The bear. It craned its neck, peeking around the corner to watch me, then quickly retracted its head, disappearing from view. In that instant, I understood exactly what Al meant by “leveled up.” 2 Mr. Henderson was a good guy. He’d often slip me a free coffee or a sandwich during my long shifts. I crouched by the door, watching him through the peephole. My plan was simple: wait for the bear to move a little further away, then yank him inside. If I was fast enough, the bear wouldn’t have time to react. I watched for what felt like an eternity. The bear didn’t reappear. Had it left? My gut, now screaming with primal fear, told me to wait. To be sure. Still nothing. Even if it was still hiding around the corner, out of my direct line of sight, I might have a chance. The creature was massive, clumsy. It couldn’t be good at quick turns. After another minute of silent observation, I decided to risk it. Click. I took a deep breath and slowly, quietly, turned the deadbolt. My hand touched the doorknob. It was ice-cold. “Sam… please, hurry!” Mr. Henderson’s voice was a weak rasp from outside. Hope had renewed his urgency. Then, my heart skipped a beat. Through the peephole, I saw Mr. Henderson’s eyes flick instinctively to his right. Had the bear circled around? Was it waiting on the other side of the door? Thwack! I slammed the deadbolt back into place. At the exact same moment… BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! A furious, inhuman pounding rattled the entire booth. This wasn’t a man’s strength. “Aaargh!” Mr. Henderson screamed, a sound of pure terror, before it was cut off by a wet, gurgling sob. Then came the sounds. Tearing. Cracking. Wet, slurping noises. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to see, but my mind painted the gruesome picture for me. A moment later, Al’s voice came over the radio. He’d seen the whole thing on a different set of cameras from the main office. He tried to comfort me, telling me that Henderson knew the bear was there. He was using himself as bait to get me to open the door. He was selfish first. It wasn’t my fault. I knew he was right, but that didn’t stop the deep, gnawing fear that was consuming me. “Al… it’s leveled up, just like you said. I saw it.” My voice was shaky. “It can suppress its instinct to feed, use a human as a tool, learn how we open doors. It even anticipated what I was thinking, tried to trick me.” Al sighed heavily. “That’s why I told you not to open the door, man.” “I have to call Brenda,” I said, my sense of duty kicking back in. “She needs to warn all the residents.” Al was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Sam, you need to worry about yourself right now. You start helping the others, and it finds out? It’s not going to let you go.” Before tonight, I would have laughed that off. A bear understanding network communication? Logical cause and effect? But after what I’d just witnessed, I wasn’t so sure. Maybe it really had become something more. Al’s advice made a terrifying kind of sense. If I just stayed quiet, maybe it would lose interest and find another target. But I couldn’t do it. I’m no hero, but I get paid to do a job, even if the pay is crap. I couldn’t live with myself knowing the familiar faces I saw every day were being hunted. I knew it was probably out there, listening, lurking in some blind spot. But I made the call. I dialed Brenda, the property manager, and told her everything. She needed to send out an emergency alert to all the HOA group chats. I was only in one, and a warning from a security guard wouldn’t carry enough weight. I also called the police and reported the situation. After I hung up, I felt a small measure of relief. But before I could even catch my breath, Al’s voice crackled over the radio, telling me to check the group chat. One look at my phone, and the knot of fear in my stomach tightened again. In the Building 13 residents’ chat, a user named Finn from apartment 1201 had posted a photo. It was a panoramic shot of the entire complex, blanketed in a pristine layer of white snow. There was no sign of a bear. No sign of Mr. Henderson’s body. Nothing. Finn’s message read: “A bear? Seriously? Are you guys so desperate for attention you’re making up ‘bear attack’ stories now?” 3 I zoomed in on the photo, frantically scanning every pixel. There was nothing. Not a single track, not a drop of blood. This was impossible. If there was no bear, what had I just experienced? Did the bear drag the body away and cover its tracks? Was the photo photoshopped? I was furious. I typed back: “We are not joking about this. This is a serious threat, and everyone needs to take it seriously. Someone has already been killed. I saw it with my own eyes.” A few of the residents who trusted us chimed in, offering support. The news about the escaped bear had been public knowledge, after all. Better safe than sorry. But Finn from 1201 quickly replied, posting a link to a brand-new news article. The escaped bear from the wildlife park had been captured an hour ago, miles away from our complex. The report stated the bear had not harmed anyone. Finn’s next message was scathing: “Stop with the theatrics. If you people at property management want to feel relevant, try lowering our HOA fees and fixing the plumbing instead of making up drama.” His words opened the floodgates. Residents who already had a grudge against management seized the opportunity, piling on, dredging up old complaints. Even the supportive residents started to waver, asking me to post a photo as proof. Doubt began to creep into my own mind. Was it possible? Was it all a hallucination? I shook my head. No. I wouldn’t believe it. I decided to go out and get the proof myself. The tracks had to be there. Even if the bear dragged the body away, there would be blood under the fresh layer of snow. I pulled out my phone, ready to take a picture. But first, I checked the peephole one last time. Nothing but white, empty snow. Was I wrong? Was it the little bit of whiskey I’d snuck into my coffee earlier? It was just a splash, not enough to make me see things… was it? “Sam, don’t be a fool! Don’t open that door! There’s something wrong with 1201!” Al’s voice crackled through the radio, sharp and urgent. My hand froze, inches from the deadbolt. Click. Rattle. Click. I pressed my eye back to the peephole and a wave of ice-cold terror washed over me. The bear was there. Standing upright. And its thick, clumsy paw was no longer a paw. It had transformed. It was using its knuckles, like a human hand, to twist the doorknob. The shock was so profound, my voice trembled when I spoke into the radio. “Al… what’s wrong with 1201?” 4 I thought I was prepared for anything, but Al’s next words hit me like a physical blow. “The bear… Finn in 1201. He raised it.” Raised it? No wonder. No wonder its behavior was so unnatural. The way it moved, the way it thought. This was no ordinary zoo animal, used to being fed by tourists. Al’s words also made me think about the apartment number: 1201. Our buildings were old, only twelve stories high. But the top-floor units, the penthouses, came with a large attic space. Big enough to house a bear? It was possible. The thud of its heavy footsteps would be the hardest thing to hide, but from the twelfth floor, the residents on the eleventh might not hear a thing, especially with enough soundproofing. But why? I could understand keeping a cat, a dog, maybe even a fox. But a massive, dangerous predator? It was insane. And illegal. I voiced my confusion to Al. He said he didn’t know why, but he did know one thing: he was standing outside Finn’s apartment in Building 13 right now. He’d smelled that familiar, musky scent of a bear and it had led him straight there. He sent me a picture on my phone. It was taken from roughly the same angle as Finn’s, but in this one, you could clearly see a large brown bear lying in the snow right next to my security booth, waiting. The body had been dragged into the peephole’s blind spot on the right, and the bloodstains were deliberately covered with a fresh pile of snow. “I’m going to talk to him,” Al’s voice came over the radio. “Sam, you stay put. Don’t you dare open that door.” Al’s reaction seemed too fast, almost as if he’d known about 1201 all along. But I didn’t have time to question it. A moment later, the radio was silent, but my phone started buzzing with notifications from the group chat. Al was posting. He’d caught the person spreading misinformation, he said. It was Finn from 1201.

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The client’s hand was sliding up my thigh when I saw Adrian Vance across the room, linking arms with his assistant to drink champagne. To keep the client happy, I’d drunk myself into a state of near-suffocation, my body screaming from alcohol poisoning. But Adrian didn’t spare me a single glance. He was too busy, his focus entirely on picking the cilantro out of his assistant’s bowl, coaxing her to eat like a good little girl. When the dinner finally ended, one word from his assistant—”Bored”—was all it took. He ushered me out of the car, ready to whisk her off to the next party. “The kid’s been working so hard lately. I’m taking her out to unwind.” “You wouldn’t get what young people are into these days. Don’t tag along.” “And listen, I’m going to be out with her all night, so that thing about the marriage license tomorrow… let’s just push it back. We’ll talk some other time.” Five years we’d been married. This was the 99th time Adrian had unilaterally canceled our appointment to make it legal. I just nodded. If he was always this busy, then maybe there was no point in ever signing those papers after all. 1 Through the half-open passenger window, Daisy stuck out her tongue in a mock apology. “So sorry, Kate! It’s all Addy’s fault, he just spoils me rotten! I’ll make sure he brings you back some late-night snacks, I promise!” Before I could even respond, Adrian was already there, smiling as he ruffled her hair. “You little glutton. You think everyone’s as obsessed with food as you are?” He shot a look in my direction. “Don’t worry about her. We don’t need another drama about food poisoning or some fake allergy. I don’t have time for those games.” So, he had seen me struggling. He just assumed it was another one of my acts, another pathetic attempt to win his attention. Normally, this would have been my cue to break down, to sob and argue and try to make him understand. But this time, I said nothing. I just offered a simple, quiet instruction. “Alright. You two have fun.” Adrian froze for a second, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before it was replaced by his usual smirk. “Good. It’s about time you stopped throwing pointless tantrums.” The car sped away. Just before they left, Adrian, ever so thoughtful, lowered Daisy’s window all the way so she wouldn’t feel stuffy. I get carsick easily, especially in his car. But he’d never once rolled down a window for me. “The wind will blow dust all over the interior. Can you stop being so dramatic all the time?” A cold clarity washed over me. I twisted the wedding band off my finger and, without a second thought, tossed it into the dark, churning river below. The next morning, I was at the orchestra hall early to hand over my duties. Ever since Adrian Vance, the piano prodigy, had made his debut, I had been his manager. “You’re resigning? Does Adrian know?” my boss asked, his eyes wide with shock. “He’ll find out when the new manager arrives,” I said, then walked out of his office and toward the performance theater. I ran right into Adrian. He was wearing a crisp new shirt I didn’t recognize, the scent of a different shower gel clinging to him. He flexed his wrists, his gaze landing on me. “I drank too much last night, so I just got a room to crash in. That’s why I didn’t come home.” It was the first time in ten years Adrian had ever bothered to offer me an explanation. I simply nodded, saying nothing. “Did you have an early meeting or something?” he asked then. I looked up at him, a ghost of a memory surfacing. After every one of these dinners, I was always up by five or six in the morning, preparing a spread of hangover remedies and a soothing breakfast for him. It had been this way since he was eighteen. It was no wonder he was confused not to find it waiting for him this morning. I just nodded again. “Something like that.” I was about to walk away, but Adrian, whose brow had been furrowed since he saw me, grabbed my wrist, his face darkening. “Alright, Kate, that’s enough.” His voice was tight with annoyance. “I just postponed signing the papers, I didn’t cancel it for good. This little act of yours is getting old.” But I wasn’t acting. And I truly had no intention of ever signing those papers. This was as good a time as any to make things clear. I opened my mouth to speak, but a girlish, pouting voice cut through the air. “Addy! It’s all your fault!” “The ones you bought me this morning… the absorbency is all wrong!” “These are for, like, daily use! I can’t use these! You’re such a clueless man, Addy!” 2 Daisy was stomping her foot a few yards away, her cheeks puffed out in a theatrical display of frustration. The moment Adrian saw her, he shoved past me, rushing to her side and sweeping her up into his arms in a dramatic, bridal-style carry. His voice was laced with urgent concern. “It’s that time of the month and you’re running around barefoot on a cold floor? Are you trying to get sick?” A memory, sharp and bitter, flashed in my mind. Earlier in the month, my own cramps had been so severe I was curled into a ball on the bed. I’d begged Adrian to get me some pads and painkillers. He’d frowned, disgusted. “You want me, a grown man, to go buy that stuff?” “Every woman goes through this. Just tough it out. God, you’re so much trouble.” By the time I snapped back to the present, Adrian was already carrying Daisy away. I looked away, swallowing the familiar ache in my chest, and pulled out my phone. I found the number for the headhunter who had been trying to recruit me for an overseas position for months. Just after I booked the flight, a notification popped up on my phone. Daisy had tagged me in a new post. It was a Boomerang of a large, masculine hand slowly, gently rubbing her stomach. The audio was just her, sighing contentedly. “Addy, your hand is so warm…” The caption read: My clueless boy feels so bad about my period cramps, he said he’d help chase all the pain away! It feels so good to be cherished~ Her intentions were as subtle as a sledgehammer. I liked the post. Then, I navigated to my own profile and removed the picture of our wedding day that had been my cover photo for years. … Later that day, a major orchestra was visiting for a joint rehearsal. Since I was still in the process of handing over my duties, I was tasked with managing the event. I was escorting the visiting musicians, leading them to the lounge to settle in. As we entered, the first thing everyone saw was Adrian, sitting at a table, patiently feeding a spoonful of food to Daisy. “Wow,” one of the violinists whispered. “I’d heard the great Adrian Vance married his manager, Kate, years ago. I had no idea they were still so in love!” “I know, right? And for a pianist, his hands are his life. To think he’d use them to pick vegetables for his wife…” Yes, a pianist’s hands. The most precious things in his world. For ten years, I had managed every aspect of his life, terrified he might suffer the slightest scratch. And now, here he was, using those priceless hands to dote on another woman. The whispers of admiration finally reached the pair. When Daisy saw me at the head of the group, her face crumpled into a mask of wronged innocence. “Kate, look at Addy!” she whined. “He’s forcing me to eat all this liver! I’m going to get so fat because of him!” Adrian didn’t even look at me. He just gently wiped a smudge from the corner of Daisy’s mouth. “Be good. Finish this, and then you have to drink your ginger tea.” The chatter around me died instantly. I met their awkward, pitying glances, forced a professional smile, and guided them to their seats. Once everyone was settled, I pulled out my phone to continue my online visa application. I didn’t hear him approach, but suddenly Adrian was standing behind me. He saw my screen, and his expression turned cold. “A visa? Who are you getting that for?” Before I could formulate an answer, he seized my hand, his voice thick with a surprise that bordered on panic. “Kate, where’s your ring!?” He stared at my bare finger. “Don’t you dare tell me you just forgot it at home!” I knew why he was reacting this way. For the eight years since our wedding, that ring had never left my finger. His own ring, meanwhile, had never once seen the light of day. Connecting the dots, a flicker of genuine fear crossed Adrian’s face. He squeezed my hand tighter, his eyes boring into mine. “Answer me!” I was about to tell him the truth, but a piercing shriek cut through the tension. “Aah! It hurts! Addy, it hurts so much…” Everyone’s head snapped toward the sound. Daisy was on the floor beside the grand piano, her hand outstretched, a bleeding gash across her palm.

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My father, upon hearing that his first love had passed away, was overcome with grief. He immediately donated his entire million-dollar fortune and became a monk. He left my mother to fend for herself and her two children on the streets, where we nearly starved to death. But my mother, through sheer will, started by picking through trash cans and then selling barbecue from a street cart. She not only fed my brother and me but eventually opened a restaurant and bought a house. On the very day we moved into our new home, my father, who had been gone for ten years, returned. He had cancer and wanted us to pay for his treatment. 1 I was at work when my aunt suddenly called. “Minnie, I have some great news! Your father is back! Aren’t you happy?” Hearing her cheerful voice, I froze. That man… ten years ago, for the sake of his first love, he abandoned his wife and children to join a monastery. Why was he suddenly back now? My throat tightened. “Where is he?” “He’s almost at your house! You must have missed him so much after all these years.” Her voice was bright and chipper. “Don’t worry, he’s back for good this time. Your family can finally be whole again. You should hurry home, Minnie!” I hung up, a knot of panic forming in my stomach. Did my mother know? She was the kindest, most soft-hearted person I knew. It had taken her years to recover after my father left. Our lives were finally on track, and I couldn’t bear to see her hurt again. I immediately called her. On the other end of the line, I could hear her haggling at the market, her voice full of life and laughter. “Minnie, honey, Mom’s busy stocking up right now. What’s up?” Hearing her voice, I felt a wave of relief. It seemed she didn’t know he was back yet. There was still time. I had to get that man out of there before she came home. “Mom,” I said, trying to sound casual, “I’m craving crawfish for dinner. After you’re done with your shopping, could you pick some up? The big ones.” “Oh, crawfish? They’re not easy to find this time of year. But don’t worry, I’ll see what I can find after I’m done here.” “Great. No rush. Take your time.” I hung up, took a half-day off from work, and rushed home in a cab. 2 Standing in front of our townhouse were a man and a woman. I had no idea how they’d gotten into the gated community. The middle-aged man was dressed in simple, worn clothes and a wool cap. He stared at the house, his expression impatient. “Didn’t you call her? Why isn’t she back yet? This is ridiculous.” He had aged. His once-handsome face was now sallow and sagging, but he still carried himself with the same self-important air, as if the world owed him its attention. Looking at his pathetic figure, I felt a twinge of bitter irony. Years ago, he’d prided himself on being a literature major from a prestigious university and constantly looked down on my mother, calling her an uncultured housewife. He shamelessly carried a photo of his first love with him, writing poems and painting portraits of her. When he heard that woman had died, he spent the entire night on the balcony, chain-smoking. I was young then, but I remember him clutching her photo, sobbing, “Rose, my love, I’m coming to join you!” The next day, he sold our house, donated his entire million-dollar fortune, and had his head shaved. While the media praised their “heaven-shaking, earth-moving love,” my mother and I were thrown out onto the street. No one cared if we lived or died. I truly didn’t know how he had the gall to come back. “Minnie! You’re back!” My aunt saw me and waved excitedly. “Come over here! What’s wrong with this child? Are you just stunned with happiness to see your father?” My father followed her gaze and looked at me. His face darkened. “What took you so long? Do you know how long we’ve been waiting?” I ignored him and asked coldly, “What are you doing here?” My lack of enthusiasm clearly annoyed him. “What do you mean, ‘what are we doing here’? Who are ‘we’? Have you forgotten how to address your elders? You have no manners at all. What has that idiot Sarah been teaching you?” Hearing him insult my mother sent a surge of fury through me. Did he still think he was the emperor of this household? Who was going to put up with that crap? “Who’s the idiot calling someone an idiot?” “I’m calling your mother an id— wait, you little brat, how dare you talk back to your own father!” He finally realized what I’d said. Shocked and enraged, he raised his hand to strike me, but my aunt quickly intervened. “No, no! Don’t fight! You’ve just been reunited after so long!” She held him back, giving him a pointed look, then turned to me with a strained smile. “Minnie, don’t be like that. I know you’ve missed your father all these years and you’re feeling hurt. But he’s missed you, too. He’s back now to make things right…” “Make things right?” I said sharply. “When he donated all our money and left us homeless, did he ever think about what would happen to Mom, to me, to my brother? And now he wants to ‘make things right’? Who needs it!” My father stared at me, aghast. “What do you mean, I ‘left you homeless’? I earned every penny of that money. Don’t I have the right to do what I want with my own property?” He grew more indignant. “Besides, I was grieving. As my daughter, why couldn’t you have a little empathy for me? Is money more important to you than feelings?” I had thought, hoped, that he might feel a shred of guilt for what he did. But he was so utterly self-righteous. I almost laughed out loud. I was done wasting my breath on him. “I’m not going to argue with you. Please leave. You’re not welcome here.” Sensing the situation was escalating, my aunt quickly tried to mediate. “Minnie, your father didn’t mean it like that. Why don’t we go inside and talk? We can all calm down. Arguing out here will just make us a laughingstock.” “There is no way I’m letting you inside today. If you have any shame, leave now. Don’t make me call security.” “How dare you speak to me like that! I’m your father!” He tried to hit me again, but my aunt held him back, shooting him meaningful glances. He finally calmed down and lowered his hand, a cold sneer on his face. “Fine. Fine. I see you’ve become a heartless, ungrateful wolf in my absence. I won’t waste my time with you. We’ll see if your mother dares to keep me out when she gets home.” I clenched my fists. His confidence wasn’t entirely baseless. Years ago, it was my mother who had pursued him, chasing after him for years before he finally, reluctantly, agreed to be with her. Throughout their marriage, she had been submissive, catering to his every whim. She forgave his affairs and never once raised her voice to him. If she saw him now, she might just soften and forgive him all over again. I couldn’t let that happen. “I said you’re not welcome here! Get out! Security! Security! There are intruders! Help!” I shrieked, grabbing a nearby broom and swinging it wildly, like I was shooing away stray dogs. If they wouldn’t leave, I would drive them away. My father’s face was scratched and bruised. He retreated, yelling, “Minnie, are you insane? How dare you treat your own father like this! You’ll be struck by lightning for this!” “I’m not your Minnie! My last name is Thorne, same as my mother’s!” I dipped the broom into a pile of dog crap on the curb and jabbed it at their faces. “Get out! Get out! Get out!” In the midst of the chaos, I heard my mother’s voice. “Minnie?” I froze. There she was, at the end of the street, holding a bag of groceries, staring at us in shock. How did she get back so early? 3 I tried to block my father from her view, but it was too late. Her eyes had already fallen on him. He stood there, stunned for a moment. The woman before him was wearing an elegant silk dress, her makeup subtle, her posture graceful. She was a world away from the frumpy housewife he remembered. He looked awkward, wiping the filth from his face and forcing a stiff smile. “Sarah, I’m back. And this time, I’m not leaving.” I looked at my mother anxiously, terrified she would be hurt all over again by this man. But she just smiled faintly. “Oh, it’s you, Arthur.” Her smile confused me. I rushed to her side. “Mom, let’s call security and have them thrown out!” But she gently chided me. “Minnie! What are you saying? That’s so rude. He is, after all, your father.” Hearing my mother defend him, my father visibly relaxed. He had been worried she would resent him, that he would have to work to win her over. But it seemed his fears were unfounded. This woman was probably just thrilled to have him back. A smug expression crept onto his face, and he reverted to his old, domineering self. He pointed at me, his tone disapproving. “Look at the daughter you raised. She’s a real handful.” My mother glanced at me and shook her head with a smile. “That’s just Minnie’s way. Don’t mind her.” Not wanting to be seen arguing in public, my father forced a laugh. “Why would I mind her?” He started to reach for my mother’s hand. “Sarah, these past few years…” But she sidestepped him smoothly and smiled at me. “Minnie, open the door. Let your father in.” “Mom! Why should we let him in?” “Open the door. Are you going to disobey me now?” I bit my lip and, reluctantly, took out my keys and opened the door. My father watched my mother’s retreating back. He was slightly annoyed by her avoidance, but then he figured it was normal for her to be a little standoffish after all this time. He decided not to make a big deal out of it. His earlier anger vanished, and without waiting for an invitation, he strode into the house.

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All of Justin Antoon’s girlfriends gave birth to children with developmental problems. Only his ex-wife had given him a perfectly healthy daughter, and he doted on her. As for me, the intellectually disabled son I bore for him was thrown to his death by that very daughter. Then, she plunged a knife into my chest, her words laced with venom. “So what if you gave him a son? He was a retard. He was never going to be good enough for the Antoon family.” Reborn, I awakened the “Perfect Pregnancy System.” The system not only allows me to conceive with ease but also to choose the gender and intelligence of my children at will. This time, I will give Justin Antoon a litter of brilliant sons. 1 When I returned, my son was already dead. Justin’s daughter, Olivia, stood before me, her expression triumphant. “Serves him right. A retard like that deserved to die.” I clutched my son’s small, lifeless body, my heart a vortex of pure hatred. SLAP. I struck her across the face with all my strength. In my last life, it was this very girl who had murdered me. This time, I would settle the score. She struggled against my grip, then burst into tears. “Daddy, help me! This crazy woman is hitting me!” Justin appeared in an instant. He glanced at my dead son in my arms, his face showing no sign of grief. His only concern was for Olivia. “Are you all right, Livvy?” Justin was my husband now. He was usually kind to me. I was the only woman who had ever given him a son, but because the boy had developmental issues, he could not inherit the Antoon family fortune. “What’s going on? Who’s bullying my granddaughter?” My mother-in-law arrived, storming over, ready to strike me as I sat on the floor. I caught her wrist in a tight grip. “She killed my son. Don’t I have the right to hit her?” In my past life, I was a doormat, letting Olivia walk all over me without a word of protest. But not anymore. I would not be silent. “He’s dead, so what? He was a retard anyway,” my mother-in-law spat, her face a mask of cold indifference. “Olivia was just helping the Antoon family clean up its useless baggage.” I looked at Justin. He said nothing. Emboldened, Olivia pouted. “Grandma’s right. Useless things should be thrown away. I’m the future heir of the Antoon family. I have the right to do these things.” She turned to Justin. “Daddy, since this woman can’t give you a smart child, why don’t you just get rid of her?” Her words sent a jolt of fear through me. I couldn’t leave. The Antoons were the wealthiest family in the state. If I was cast out, I wouldn’t survive. “Justin,” I said, my voice shaking but firm, “I can give you a smart son.” At this, he turned to look at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. Even my mother-in-law’s attention was captured. Justin had been with many women, fathering many daughters. Apart from Olivia, all of them had developmental problems and had been… dealt with. His greatest desire was for a healthy son to inherit the Antoon legacy. It was a family tradition for the heir to be male, but his generation had hit a roadblock. And now, I had awakened the Perfect Pregnancy System. The system’s voice had echoed in my mind moments after my rebirth: [Host, if you use the Perfect Pregnancy System to bear Justin Antoon four children, your mission will be complete, and you will be rewarded with infinite wealth.] [Furthermore, you can use this system for revenge. You can have as many children as you desire, and you can freely alter their gender and intelligence.] I had agreed without a second thought. I would avenge my son, and I would complete my mission. 2 “Daddy, don’t believe her! How could she possibly give you a smart son? That’s not something you can just decide to do,” Olivia whined. Justin snapped back to reality. “You already gave birth to one disabled son. That means any others will be the same.” He sighed. “But you’ve been the most obedient of all my wives, and the only one to give me a son. I can give you two million dollars. Just leave.” He turned to walk away. I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around his leg, looking up at him with desperate determination. “Just trust me one more time. I can do it. If I fail, you can throw me out then. It won’t be too late.” “You lying bitch!” Olivia tried to push me away. But Justin stopped her. “You really can?” he asked, his voice hesitant. “Of course,” I promised. “I guarantee it.” My words caught my mother-in-law’s attention. A flicker of hope ignited in her eyes. “If you can really do it, then I will finally accept you as my daughter-in-law.” Justin was tempted. “Fine. We’ll try.” I let out a silent sigh of relief and looked down at my son’s still form. Don’t worry, my sweet boy. Mommy will get revenge for you. Olivia started to throw a tantrum. “Dad, don’t believe her! She’s lying!” “Livvy,” I said, my voice small and pathetic, “I know you’re afraid a brother will challenge your position as the heir. Don’t worry, I won’t let him compete with you.” A flicker of pity crossed Justin’s face. He pulled me into his arms and looked at Olivia with a cold expression. “That’s enough! Whether she can do it or not is not for you to say. We’ll know soon enough. If it is a boy, and he is healthy, then he will be the heir to the Antoon family.” Olivia’s face went white. She wanted to argue, but she held her tongue. I smiled inwardly. Olivia, you want to be the heir so badly? I will never let you have it. 3 My promise to bear Justin a son changed his attitude towards me completely. He even arranged a lavish funeral for my deceased son. At the cemetery, Olivia glared at me, her eyes burning with hatred. I ignored her, clinging to Justin’s arm. Rest now, my son, I thought. Mommy will avenge you. “Darling,” I whispered to Justin, “let’s start trying for another baby today.” He laughed. “All right. I’ll trust you this one time. If you can really give me a brilliant son, I will not treat you poorly.” “Okay.” After leaving the cemetery, I ran into Olivia in the garden at home. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she sneered. “I’m telling you, if you don’t produce a boy this time, my father will throw you out for sure! And you won’t, because my father’s genes are defective.” “Defective genes? Then how are you perfectly fine?” I took a step closer, staring into her eyes. A flash of panic crossed her face. “I… I misspoke,” she stammered. In that instant, I understood everything. No wonder all the children Justin fathered had problems. His genes were flawed. But Olivia was normal. Which meant she wasn’t his biological daughter. I said nothing more and walked away. That night, Justin and I were together. I asked him about the genetic issue, and he told me he had been undergoing treatment for years. He believed it was no longer a problem. It didn’t matter. Even if there was a problem, the system would help me. Afterward, the system’s voice chimed in my head: [Host, a fertilized egg has implanted. You may now choose its gender and intelligence level.] I didn’t hesitate. “Male. High intelligence.” I had already lost one son. I would ensure that my next child had a bright future. It would be as if he were living for his lost brother. 4 A month later, I was confirmed pregnant. Justin was so overjoyed he spun me around in his arms. “This is wonderful, Violet! I love you so much! There’s hope for the Antoon legacy!” His face was alight with joy. “I hope it’s a boy.” “Dad, aren’t you afraid she’ll just have another retard?” Olivia grumbled. She turned to my mother-in-law. “Grandma, you know Dad’s genes are bad. That can’t be changed. So Violet’s baby will be a retard, too!” “But if Justin’s genes are defective, how are you normal?” I interjected innocently. I couldn’t believe Olivia was so foolish as to expose herself again. Justin and his mother’s expressions soured. They were starting to see the inconsistency. Just as Justin was about to speak, his ex-wife, Katherine, arrived. “The doctors said that even with Justin’s condition, it’s not a guarantee that every child will have problems,” she said quickly. “Olivia was just the lucky exception.” She shot a warning glance at Olivia. Olivia caught on and nodded eagerly. “That’s right! And I look so much like my dad, how could I not be his daughter? Violet, I think you’re just trying to cause trouble!” “I’m not,” I whispered, shrinking into Justin’s arms. “Justin, you believe me, don’t you? I wasn’t.” I knew Justin all too well. He had a weakness for damsels in distress. As expected, he pulled me into a tight embrace and shot a cold look at Katherine and Olivia. “That’s enough. I don’t want to hear another word about my genes. I believe the baby in Violet’s womb will be perfectly healthy.” Though he said that, when we were back in our room, he seemed worried. I wrapped my arms around his neck and cooed, “Don’t worry, Justin. This baby will be fine. I have a doctor friend with advanced equipment. She’s already checked. The baby is perfectly healthy.” “Really?” A wide smile spread across his face. “Of course.” He immediately pulled me in for a long kiss, his eyes wet with emotional tears. He cared so much about having a child. And I would use that to control him. Everything the Antoon family owned would one day belong to my children.

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On the eve of the surgery, I resigned as the lead surgeon. My colleagues in the department scoffed, calling me unreliable and weak. “And he’s supposed to be a Ph.D. from abroad? More like he bought a degree from some diploma mill.” “He runs away at the first sign of a challenge. He doesn’t deserve to be a doctor!” In my past life, I gave up a spot in the national general practitioner skills competition to take on this exact surgery. But due to the gross negligence of the other lead surgeon, it ended in a catastrophic medical malpractice incident. And my own sister, the department head, pinned all the blame on me. Even my girlfriend stood firmly by his side, accusing me of incompetence. Overnight, I went from a lauded medical prodigy to a pariah. Unable to prove my innocence, I was not only fired but also faced prison time. My parents, who had always been so proud of me, pointed their fingers at me, shouting, “We have no son who is so reckless with human life.” I spiraled into a severe depression and threw myself from the roof of the hospital. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the eve of the surgery. 1 “This is an extremely complex procedure. The hospital has decided to appoint you as the lead surgeon. Are you confident?” In the department office, my sister, Kaitlyn, smiled as she placed a patient’s file in front of me. I looked at the file, and an involuntary tremor ran through my body. Snapping back to the present, I shook my head decisively. “I just got back from my fellowship abroad. I still need some time to get acclimated. I’m not ready for a major surgery like this.” In my previous life, this surgery was the beginning of my ruin. And the person pushing it all forward was the very same sister who had always seemed to dote on me. Back then, I had accepted without hesitation, agreeing to co-lead the surgery with another doctor in our department, Dr. Alex Rivera. But Alex was in no condition to operate, making one critical error after another. Despite my repeated warnings, the outcome was irreversible. And I, who had done nothing wrong, was dragged into the ensuing disaster. As the department head, Kaitlyn shifted all responsibility onto my shoulders. I became a social outcast overnight, losing not only my reputation but also my career. Unable to handle the blow, I ended my own life in a haze of despair. Kaitlyn frowned at me now, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “This is a fantastic opportunity, Chad. It took a lot of work for me to get it for you. Why are you turning it down?” I pushed the file back across the desk to her, a faint smile on my lips. “My skills are not yet up to the task. I can’t take on such a heavy responsibility.” Hearing my words, my girlfriend, Jessica, who was standing nearby, immediately chided me. “Chad, can’t you be a man for once? You’re so timid about everything. How do you ever expect to advance in your career?” Looking at her “tough love” expression, I wanted to laugh. Both of them acted as if they had my best interests at heart. But in their minds, I would never be worth a single hair on Alex’s head. I stood up and faced her. “Alex is a graduate of a top medical school. He’s superior to me in every way. Let him lead the surgery by himself.” The tragic events of my past life were still vivid in my memory. Reborn, I would not make the same mistakes. My words seemed to stun both Kaitlyn and Jessica into silence. Then, Jessica took my hand, her voice turning encouraging. “That’s exactly why you should be learning from him! Strive to become as outstanding a doctor as Alex is.” When she said his name, it was like she transformed. Her voice was filled with a strange, breathless excitement. 2 I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and refused again. “I also have the national general practitioner skills competition to prepare for. I can’t possibly take on this surgery.” The real reason they were pushing so hard for me to co-lead with Alex was that they both knew it. Without me, Alex didn’t have the skill to pull off this procedure alone. And if this incredibly complex surgery were a success, it would be a massive feather in his cap, a huge boost to his career. Seeing the doubt in their eyes, I pulled a document from my folder and placed it on the desk. “What? You don’t believe me?” When Jessica saw the document—my official invitation to the competition—her face flushed with anger. “This is a major competition! Why didn’t you tell Alex?” Her voice sharpened. “Are you afraid he’d outshine you?” Kaitlyn’s expression turned ugly. “We’re colleagues at the same hospital, Chad. Don’t you know how to share? I’ve never met someone so selfish.” I stared at them in disbelief. “I barely know Alex. Why would I tell him?” We were in the same department, yes. But Alex was arrogant and aloof. He treated new doctors like me with a dismissive air. In the six months I’d been here, we had exchanged maybe three sentences. And that was somehow my fault? My answer only seemed to infuriate Jessica more. “You’ve been here this long and you still don’t know what Alex is like? As a colleague, can’t you be more proactive and try to build a better relationship with him?” Without another word, she pulled out her phone and called the competition organizers to try and register Alex. Kaitlyn stormed out of the office, presumably to ask Alex in person. I watched them go, a bitter taste in my mouth. In their eyes, I was just an outsider, an obstacle. A few moments later, Jessica hung up the phone. Registration was full. There was no way to add Alex. Her face was a mask of panic, and she started muttering to herself. “This is such an important competition! If Alex can’t participate, it will seriously affect his career!” Her eyes lit up with a sudden, terrible idea, and she turned to me. “But you have a spot, don’t you? If you just give up your spot, Alex can compete.” Her words sent a tremor through my body. It felt hard to breathe. “So, Alex’s future is important, but mine isn’t?” In all the years we had been together, I had always put her first, valued her more than my own life. But in her eyes, I would never measure up to Alex, a man she barely knew. Jessica’s expression shifted, becoming uncharacteristically coy. “Alex is older than you, Chad. Just let him have this one! You’re still young. You’ll have other chances.” Seeing her fawning, simpering act, I couldn’t help but laugh coldly to myself. The strong, independent woman I thought I knew could turn into this simpering mess for Alex. Too bad for her. I wasn’t the naive fool from my past life. I wouldn’t let them lead me by the nose again. 3 “Chad, Jessica’s right. You’re young. Give this opportunity to Alex.” Just as I was thinking, Kaitlyn walked back in, Alex in tow. I looked up, and my eyes met his. His gaze was filled with undisguised mockery, as if he were laughing at my cowardice. I shook my head firmly. “You don’t have the right to make decisions about my life.” With that, I turned and walked out of the office. To my surprise, they didn’t bother me for the next two days while I was at the competition. I only found out why when I checked my social media: Alex had taken on the surgery by himself. I thought that would be the end of it. But the moment I returned, Kaitlyn and Jessica cornered me, their faces pale with panic. “Chad, you have to save Alex this time. If you don’t help him, he’s finished.” I knew immediately that the surgery had gone wrong. I looked at them, my eyes cold. “What do you expect me to do about it?” This time, I wasn’t even in the hospital. They couldn’t possibly pin it on me. Kaitlyn’s next words made my blood run cold. “I’ll handle the paperwork. You’re going to take the fall for Alex.” Her voice was calm, matter-of-fact. “You haven’t been at the hospital that long. Even if you make a mistake, people will be more forgiving.” Her words were like daggers of ice. I was her brother, her own flesh and blood, and she was asking me to be the scapegoat for Alex. If I did this, I would not only destroy my career but also face prison. The memories of my past life were still raw and painful. I refused without a second thought. “He’s a doctor. If he messed up a surgery, he needs to take responsibility for it. Why should I take the blame for him?” Jessica’s voice grew shrill with desperation. “Shouldn’t colleagues help each other out? If you help Alex this one time, we’ll all be so grateful.” Her attempt at emotional blackmail finally broke my control. The rage I had been suppressing erupted. “You’re so concerned about Alex, but have either of you ever thought about me?” My voice was trembling, on the verge of a sob. “Have you forgotten? One of you is my sister, and the other is my girlfriend!” In my past life, they had driven me to a dead end for Alex’s sake. Did they really want me to relive that nightmare? But Kaitlyn’s tone was unyielding, absolute. “Chad, you don’t have a choice in this. I’ve already arranged everything. You will take the blame.” She threw a stack of documents onto my desk. They had forged evidence to place me at the scene of the surgery. The fabrication was seamless. To anyone else, it would look completely convincing. They had gone to such lengths for Alex. I had underestimated their devotion. But my face showed no fear. Instead, I smiled at them. “You do realize that if I wanted to, I could send both of you to prison for this, right?”

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After learning my daughter had been crippled by her husband—and that he would face no consequences—I asked the police with an unnerving calm, “Domestic abuse isn’t a crime, is it?” No one knew my history. When my daughter was five, she was mauled by a rabid dog. I kicked it to death with a single blow. At eight, she was harassed by a perverted neighbor. I beat him into a permanent disability. He’s still in a wheelchair today. At fifteen, she was cornered by local gang members. I put a knife through the gang leader’s throat and critically wounded his three accomplices. I spent ten years in a maximum-security prison for that. Today was my first day of freedom. 1 The day I was released, my parole officer told me my daughter, Jessica, had been beaten into a permanent disability by her husband. She was in the ICU, fighting for her life. Her crime? She had taken an extra piece of meat at the dinner table without his permission. For that, he shattered her spleen and broke her spine. For the rest of her life, she would have to wear a colostomy bag. The perpetrator, her husband Edward, was lounging outside her hospital room, casually playing a game on his phone. “It’s a husband’s right to discipline his wife,” he said with a shrug, not even looking up. “The day she married me, she became my property. Even if I beat her to death, the cops couldn’t touch me.” His voice was light, completely devoid of remorse. The wedding band on his finger glinted under the fluorescent lights, as sharp and cold as the blade I had plunged into the gang leader’s throat ten years ago. I stared at him, my mind reeling. How could a husband say such things? My heart bled, and a wildfire of rage ignited in my chest. I lunged forward, ready to kill this animal, but the plainclothes officer who had escorted me grabbed my arm, hissing in my ear. “Don’t be stupid, Sarah! You kill him, you’ll go right back to prison!” He squeezed my arm tighter. “Do you want your daughter to be without a mother for the rest of her life?” His words hit me like a physical blow. My fist fell, limp and powerless, to my side. Seeing my fight drain away, Edward sneered and flicked a business card at my face. “You want to sue me? Go ahead. You can even hire me. I’m the best lawyer in the city.” He smirked. “A backwater hick like you probably doesn’t understand the law, so let me educate you. Domestic abuse isn’t a felony. Even if I kill her, the law can’t do a damn thing to me.” He turned his back to me, his voice growing more arrogant. “I never saw her as anything more than a placeholder when I married her. A common woman with no family to back her up? She’s lucky a lawyer like me even looked at her. My family has connections in the courthouse and the police department. What are you going to do about it?” He shoved me aside, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and sauntered away. He didn’t know. The last person who used my daughter to threaten me was long dead. 2 I stayed by Jessica’s bedside for two weeks, never leaving her side, before she finally woke from the coma. When she saw me, she stared for a few seconds, her eyes wide with disbelief, before a raw, ragged sob broke from her lips. She was a porcelain doll on the verge of shattering—her eyes swollen, her face a ghostly white. “Mom! You’re really back… I missed you so much…” Her voice was a choked whisper. “I thought I’d never see you again…” Her desperate, broken words twisted a knife in my heart. I raised my hand to comfort her, but when I saw the landscape of bruises and cuts covering her body, my fingers froze in mid-air. She had always been so afraid of pain, so meticulous about her appearance. Now, that monster Edward had beaten her into a broken thing, forced to live with a colostomy bag for the rest of her days. I couldn’t imagine the depths of her despair. “It’s okay, Jessica. Shh, don’t be afraid. Mom’s back now. Mom will get you justice.” A bitter, humorless smile touched her lips. Her eyes were hollow, filled with a terrifying emptiness as she looked at me. “It’s useless, Mom. I’ve been trying to divorce that monster for years. No lawyer will take my case. Even the police are on their side.” She took a shuddering breath. “They have eyes everywhere. No matter where I run, his family finds me. Every time I think I’m finally free, he hunts me down like a cat toying with a mouse and drags me back.” Her voice cracked. “Mom… I don’t want to live anymore.” Her words felt like a hand squeezing my heart, tight and merciless. I reached out, my touch feather-light, and stroked her head, just as I had when she was a little girl. After I coaxed her to sleep, I went to the hospital director’s office. I needed her official medical report, the proof I would take to the courthouse to file charges against Edward. The director’s response sent my world crashing down. “Domestic disputes are complicated,” he said dismissively. “It takes two to tango. If she hadn’t done something to provoke him, why would he hit her?” I trembled with rage. It was abuse, pure and simple. What right did Edward have to lay a hand on her? The director waved his hand, his tone patronizing. “Edward’s uncle is a judge. How do you plan to fight someone like that?” He then delivered the final blow, a veiled threat. If I dropped the matter, the family would cover all of Jessica’s medical expenses. “Look, your son-in-law already spoke to us. If you cause any trouble, your daughter can’t be treated here anymore. And if something… happens to her after that, don’t blame us for being heartless.” I stared at his ugly, smug face, a storm of fury and helplessness raging inside me. I wouldn’t give up. I would get justice for my daughter, or I would die trying. The director laughed, a sound dripping with scorn. “Who is your son-in-law? He’s a lawyer with power and connections. And you? You’re nobody.” He leaned forward. “Take my advice and give up. Go home and think about it. He’s been good to your daughter, all things considered. He gave her a home. If you keep pushing this, you’ll ruin what’s left of her life.” I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. Edward had done this to Jessica, and we were supposed to be grateful? I couldn’t believe it. Was there truly no place in this world for justice? Suddenly, a nurse’s frantic voice echoed from down the hall. “Code Blue! The patient in 302—she tried to kill herself!” 3 The words hit me, and the world went blank. My legs gave out from under me. I staggered to her room and pressed my face against the glass, watching the medical team swarm around my daughter’s bed. My heart felt like it was being shredded. Jessica’s father died when she was just a baby. It had always been just the two of us. She was my entire world. Ten years ago, when those gang members cornered her, I killed their leader and disabled the others to protect her. After I was done, I turned myself in and was sentenced to ten years. I was supposed to be released in six months, but I was granted early release for good behavior. I never wanted Jessica to know her mother was a murderer, so for a decade, I wrote letters telling her I was working in another state. For ten years, I dreamed of the day we would be reunited. And now, we had just found each other again. Was fate really so cruel as to make me bury my own child? After two agonizing hours, the doctors managed to save her. I finally let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, and feeling returned to my numb limbs. But my relief was short-lived. The doctor’s next words sent a spear of ice through my heart. “She’s suffering from severe depression. We can’t rule out another suicide attempt.” Images of Jessica’s bright, youthful face flashed through my mind. That beautiful, kind girl had been pushed to the absolute brink by that monster. Swallowing my rage, I went to the police station. The answer I received there plunged me into an even deeper abyss of despair. An officer took the report, glanced at it, and shifted uncomfortably. “Your daughter’s husband is a prominent lawyer. His family is very well-connected. His uncle is high up in the department. Our hands are tied.” I stared at his helpless face, the brutal reality of the situation crashing down on me. Edward’s power was a fortress, so high that even the police were afraid to scale its walls. I stood up and walked out of the station. The sunlight outside was blinding, but all I could see was darkness. Just then, my phone buzzed. I glanced down at the screen. A video had just been sent to me from an unknown number. It was Jessica. She was curled in a corner, her body a mosaic of purple and blue bruises, her hair a tangled mess. Her eyes were hollowed out with terror and despair. Her lips were bitten white, a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth. I gripped my phone, my nails digging into the device, the plastic groaning under the pressure. The world spun around me, and I felt myself collapsing under the weight of it all. Then, a voice message from Edward arrived, dripping with mockery. “You wanted to report me to the police? Here’s the evidence you wanted. If it’s not enough, don’t worry. I’ve got plenty more.”

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After 99 failed blind dates, Mia and I vowed to have kids alone. She picked an MIT genius donor; I chose European aristocracy. After birth, her donor—now infertile—demanded marriage to secure an heir. She agreed. At my prenatal visits, Mia would sneer, arm around her husband: “Poor Lana, cursed to be alone. My Julian just got a national tech lead—his future’s limitless.” She didn’t know my baby’s father was a billionaire who’d soon take me to his private island, adorning me in jewels until I nearly sank. When I posted a yacht photo, her desperate texts poured in: “His project got canceled! I can’t afford baby formula!” She begged for friendship, asked me to be godmother. Then she met me with a chainsaw, screaming: “Why should you have more? Just for picking a better donor?” I woke back at the fertility clinic—decision day. “Lana, what’s so great about marriage anyway? Let’s do this on our own! We can be the powerful heroines of our own lives!” Mia shook my arm, her voice filled with a manic excitement. The sterile, familiar smell of the clinic hit me, and a wave of dizziness confirmed it. I was reborn. After a long string of dates with losers and creeps, Mia and I had decided to come to this exclusive clinic to choose premium donors for IVF. Mia’s sharp voice grated in my ear. “Lana, look! This one’s from an MIT genius. The kid would be brilliant! You should choose this one.” Then, without missing a beat, she pointed to the profile next to it—the one described as having a complex European aristocratic lineage. “You know me,” she said, a little too quickly. “I’m all about looks. I’ve always dreamed of a baby with those classic features. You won’t fight me for him, will you, Lana?” In that instant, I knew. She was reborn, too. And she was making a beeline for the billionaire’s genes she thought would be her ticket to paradise. She put on a show of looking out for me. “This MIT profile is a sure thing, Lana. You’d be crazy to pass it up.” It was the complete opposite of what she’d said in our last life. I looked at her, watching the predatory gleam in her eyes, and slowly nodded. The moment I agreed, her face lit up, and she blurted out, “Don’t you regret it!” Regret what? She was so desperate for me to choose the brilliant Dr. Julian Vance because she wanted the billionaire for herself. She wanted the life of obscene wealth and power. In our first life, she’d claimed she wanted a child prodigy and snatched up Julian’s profile first. When he was later diagnosed with infertility, he tracked her down and proposed. At their wedding, I’d dragged my heavily pregnant body there to give them a gift, only to be stopped at the door. Mia had stood there, proud as a peacock, her eyes raking over me with contempt before she let out a tinkling laugh. “Having a baby on your own? You’re living in a fairytale, Lana. I, on the other hand, am about to secure my future. My husband was just chosen by the government to lead a top-secret project! And you? What do you have? Some fancy ‘aristocratic’ lineage? For all you know, that just means he’s some inbred nobody from a country you’ve never heard of.” But a month after her wedding, a gold-leafed invitation arrived at my apartment, delivered by a towering, white-gloved butler. “My lady,” he said in a crisp, formal tone, “our patron is aware that you are carrying his child. He requests your presence on his estate to be wed.” That’s when I found out. My donor was a reclusive, unbelievably wealthy billionaire. And right after I left for his private island, Mia’s social media became a constant stream of complaints. Vague posts about some “homewrecking Ph.D. student” trying to seduce her husband. She’d post pictures from outside his lab, trying to look like a devoted wife standing guard. Then came the videos of her screaming at the young woman, who, seeing Mia was pregnant, never fought back. Mia crowed about it, taking the woman’s restraint as an admission of guilt. I heard through mutual friends that her constant, baseless jealousy and public scenes got the project shut down. Julian’s career was derailed. But Mia felt no remorse. It was his fault for being weak, for not being man enough to keep his project and his team in line. They fought constantly. Soon, Julian’s reputation was so tarnished by Mia’s drama that no one would work with him. He was unemployed, and the bills piled up. Raising a child costs money, and Mia, who had only married him for a life of luxury, refused to contribute a dime. The fighting escalated from shouting matches to him just not coming home for days at a time. Meanwhile, my feed was filled with pictures of royal galas, super-yachts, and the diamond on my finger that was the size of a robin’s egg. So, this time around, she didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the billionaire’s profile and pushed Julian’s onto me. I feigned innocence, playing the part of her naive friend. “But Mia, this profile is so vague. ‘Complex European heritage’… what if the genes are bad?” Mia, who had already signed the paperwork, cut me off, her voice hard. “That’s not your problem anymore. My son is going to be the heir to a dynasty. You, on the other hand, will probably be struggling to afford diapers.” A cold smile touched my lips, one she couldn’t see. A brilliant MIT scientist and a future genius son versus an abusive monster and his equally monstrous child. Only a fool wouldn’t know who to choose. I wondered if Mia would still be smiling when she was locked in a cage with a lion. Because in my last life, I was indeed taken to a private, palatial estate. But the man waiting for me was a brute. He threw me into a room and assaulted me. The slightest resistance was met with a rain of fists and kicks, leaving my body a canvas of bruises. The long, concealing robes worn by the women on the island hid the evidence from the outside world, but I couldn’t even sit without wincing in pain. He had XYY Syndrome, a genetic condition that made him prone to explosive, uncontrollable rage. The priceless, beautiful, and heavy ornaments that filled our rooms were often hurled at my head. I bled so much I often hovered on the edge of death, only to be brought back by their advanced medical team, trapped in a cycle of torture and recovery. He forced himself on me even when I was heavily pregnant. There was no one to turn to; everyone on the island looked at me as if I were a slave. And the child? The “aristocratic heir”? I’d seen the prenatal report before I ever left the country. He didn’t just have XYY Syndrome; he had a rare mosaic variant. He was born to be a menace to society. They wouldn’t let me terminate the pregnancy. Even in my womb, he would kick my thinning uterine wall with such force that I couldn’t sleep for nights on end. The memory sent a shiver down my spine. With the procedure confirmed for a few days later, Mia let out a sigh of relief. She caressed the signed consent form, her eyes gleaming with schadenfreude. “An MIT genius just sounds good on paper. Watch out, Lana. You’ll probably end up with a useless deadbeat, and your kid will be an idiot, too.” I remained placid in the face of her taunts, offering a serene smile. “They say when you mix that many bloodlines, you’re bound to get some… mental instability. You be careful, Mia.” Mia always had to be first, always had to win. She thought a second chance meant she could rewrite her destiny. She never understood the truth: it’s not about the choice you make, but who you are. My words hit their mark. Her face flushed with anger, and she stomped her foot, a trembling finger pointed at me. “You just wait! We’ll see whose kid has the garbage genes!” Two weeks after our procedures, just like in the last life, Julian Vance was diagnosed with infertility. He tracked me down using the clinic’s records. He stood at my door dressed in a well-tailored suit, his brow sharp and intelligent, a pleasant, clean scent of cedarwood clinging to him. His voice was as clear and calming as a mountain spring. “Ms. Lana?” I was momentarily stunned, and in that brief silence, the tips of his ears turned a faint pink. He spoke again, a little flustered. “This is going to sound incredibly sudden, but… would you consider marrying me?” He rushed to add, “I wouldn’t interfere with your life, of course…” “Okay,” I said, cutting him off. “I will. Do you want to go to the courthouse now?” My straightforward acceptance seemed to shock him into silence. He just stared at me, completely at a loss. Just then, Mia’s cackling laughter erupted from my phone. I’d been on a call with her. She knew Julian was coming today and couldn’t wait to watch me walk into the same trap she’d fallen into last time. “Hahaha, Lana, you’re that desperate to get married? I guess with a face like yours, you have to take what you can get before it’s too late!” Her voice was shrill with mockery. “When you two get married, I’ll be sure to send you a huge gift. God knows you won’t have many good days left to enjoy it!” Hearing the cruel voice on the other end of the line, Julian frowned instinctively and murmured, almost to himself, “I won’t let you suffer…” Mia’s voice cut him off, her words growing even more venomous. “What kind of future can two broke losers have together? You probably won’t even be able to feed the kid. You’ll just fight all day and live on welfare!” I ended the call and gave Julian a small, steady smile. “I know we won’t end up like that,” I said, my voice firm with a certainty that surprised even me. “Never.” We picked a date and, with our families’ blessings, we were officially married. The wedding was set for two weeks later. Julian was with me for every step—choosing the dress, booking the venue, tasting the cakes. He never missed a thing. Looking at this kind, attentive man, I felt nothing but profound relief. A gentle, respectful husband was infinitely better than an abusive monster. Mia spent those two weeks bombarding me with texts, all mocking me for marrying a “failure.” But the poverty of her last life was her own doing. If that project had gone smoothly, Julian would have become one of the youngest and most respected experts in his field worldwide. His salary would have easily been in the seven figures. But Mia’s pathological possessiveness had destroyed his future. She stormed into his lab, caused scenes, and alienated all the senior researchers who had once championed him. Remembering this, I turned to Julian with a gentle smile. “If you have project work to do, you know I can handle all of this on my own.” A flicker of deep gratitude crossed his face. He suddenly dropped to one knee and pulled out a ring box. The diamond wasn’t huge, but the stone was a stunning shade of sky blue, my favorite color. It was like a piece of a perfect, cloudless day, something that made you happy just by looking at it. “I know my proposal was… abrupt,” he said, his voice soft. “So I wanted to do this properly.” He looked up at me, his eyes full of sincere emotion. “Lana, will you marry me?” I smiled and nodded, holding out my hand for him to slide the ring onto my finger. It couldn’t compare to the gaudy boulder I’d worn on the island, but this small, perfect ring filled my heart with a warmth that spread through my entire body. On the island, the jewelry was just a tool for a tyrant to flaunt his wealth. Every jewel represented a scar, a slap followed by a hollow apology. He had even, for his own amusement, locked me in a pen with a lioness when I was eight months pregnant, dousing me in a scent irresistible to big cats. So go ahead, Mia. Reject this kind of genuine, unconditional love. Go seek out your suffering. The memory of the chainsaw’s teeth tearing through my flesh still felt lodged in my bones. Thinking of her twisted, furious face, all I could do was wish her luck. I hadn’t even started sending out wedding invitations when Mia showed up at my door. “I’m your best friend! Shouldn’t I be the first one to get an invitation?” she demanded. “I want to see what your pathetic little wedding looks like. You probably won’t get to see mine, but I can guarantee you it’ll be a thousand times better than yours! What future does a broke academic have? You’re so shortsighted, Lana. You have a lifetime of misery ahead of you.” I calmly handed her an invitation, my voice light and cheerful. “I truly hope you enjoy your new life, Mia!” After the proposal, Julian dove back into his work, and I focused on the wedding preparations. He was busy, but he texted me every day, letting me know what he was up to. He said the project was making huge progress and would be officially launching soon. “Lana, thank you for being so understanding,” he texted. “I was worried you’d be angry that I can’t be there more.” “Just don’t miss the actual wedding!” I typed back, smiling. I took the initial project funding he’d received and invested it into a few different funds. On the day of the wedding, Mia showed up dressed more extravagantly than I, the bride. She wore a couture gown that shimmered like a fairy’s wing, carried the latest designer handbag, and had a diamond tiara nestled in her hair. Anyone would have thought it was her coronation. She shoved past the ushers, her nose in the air. “Don’t you dare touch me! My presence here is a gift. It elevates this whole shabby affair!” Julian strode forward, his face grim, and signaled the security. “Please escort this person out. We only want guests here who genuinely wish my wife and me well.” Mia’s face went from smug to livid. The man who was her husband in another life was now yelling at her for another woman. The jealousy was a toxic, visible thing. “You think you’ve won the lottery? After all our years as friends, you think I don’t know her?” she shrieked, pointing at me. “She’s a social climber! She’ll kiss up to you now, but the second you’re a nobody again, she’ll kick you to the curb and cheat on you without a second thought!” SLAP. The sound echoed in the quiet hall. I took a deep breath, looking at Mia’s stunned, hand-printed cheek. “You are not my friend anymore,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “No friend would say things like that, especially not on my wedding day. Take the bitterness you feel from going to your own appointments alone and aim it where it belongs: at the father of your ‘aristocratic’ child.” Stunned silent for a moment, she finally recovered, letting out a wild, hysterical laugh as she lunged at me. Julian immediately stepped in front of me, his body a shield, his eyes daring her to take another step. “You are not welcome at our wedding,” he said, his voice cold as ice. Seeing she was completely alone, with no one to back her up, Mia trembled with rage. “Fine! Burn the bridge! But don’t come crying to me when you’re broke and miserable!” she screamed. “The life I’m about to have is one you could never even dream of. You have fun with your useless professor! You just wait and see!” With that, she spun on her stiletto heels and stormed away. The wedding continued without a hitch. Under the loving gaze of our parents, Julian and I shared a kiss. Three days later, Mia posted a picture of a golden invitation on her Instagram, making sure to tag me. The caption read: Just showing some backstabbing ghosts what a real invitation looks like. I turned off my phone and leaned my head on Julian’s shoulder, focusing on the movie we were watching. Mia’s dream life was finally beginning. I just hoped she survived the first day.

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Four months pregnant. My husband, an OB/GYN, took me to get my prenatal results. His smile froze when he saw the report. He grabbed my arm, steel grip dragging me toward the abortion clinic. I stood stunned—my doctor had just said the baby was healthy. I pulled free. “Why?” He ignored me, already scheduling the procedure. When I tried to run, he hissed, “This baby cannot be born.” I called my parents—both OB/GYNs. My doting father raised a fist at my belly. My mother trembled. “No… not like this.” Then, coldly: “Lock her in with men.” I didn’t understand. They dragged me to a dark room. Blood pooled between my legs—my baby was gone. Later, my mother smiled brightly. I screamed, demanding answers. She had me committed. I was tortured to death. When I opened my eyes—I was back on test day. … My husband, Leo, beamed at me. “Our first child, sweetheart. I can’t wait for the day he’s born.” “Come on, honey, let’s go before the hospital gets too crowded.” His voice jolted me back to the present. I touched my slightly rounded belly and knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that I had been reborn. And I had been reborn on the exact day I was to receive my prenatal report. In my previous life, Leo had been the perfect, attentive husband from the moment I told him I was pregnant. He bought something new for the baby every single day and had already compiled a list of over a hundred names. Even though I was getting my check-ups at the very hospital where he worked, he would take the day off just to be with me. His excitement for this child was palpable. At four months, we went for our routine scan. The doctor told us the baby was healthy, that the risk for Down syndrome was nonexistent. Leo, being an OB/GYN himself, glanced at the report. His smile vanished. His face contorted in a rictus of horror. Without a word, he grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards the abortion scheduling desk. I dug in my heels, yanking my hand away. “Leo, the doctor said the baby is fine! Why do you want to terminate?” He ignored me, his fingers flying across his phone screen, booking the procedure. I tried to snatch the phone from him. His breathing grew ragged, his eyes bloodshot. He roared at me, his voice a raw, guttural thing. “Iris, this baby cannot be born!” His violence terrified me. My heart hammered against my ribs, my legs turning to jelly. While he was busy with the paperwork, I sent a frantic message to my parents. They arrived quickly. But when Leo saw them, he didn’t look worried. A small, strange smile played on his lips. I shrank into my mother’s arms. My father strode up to Leo and punched him square in the face. “The baby is healthy! Why are you forcing an abortion?” Leo didn’t say a word. He just handed the report to my father. The anger on my father’s face melted into pure terror. His eyes widened, his hands trembling as he held the single sheet of paper. Then, he raised his fist and lunged for my stomach. My mother threw herself in front of me. The blow landed on her back. “Are you insane?!” she shrieked. “That’s your grandson in there!” My father let out a cold, humorless laugh and shoved the report at my mother. My mother, who had just been protecting me, looked as if she had seen a ghost. Her face went deathly pale. She pushed me away from her, shaking her head violently. “No… no, this can’t be.” I knew then that something was terribly wrong with the report. “Mom, what is it? What’s wrong with my baby?” She didn’t answer, lost in her own storm of emotion. “This won’t work!” she said, grabbing my father’s arm. “It’s too public here. I have an idea.” “Find some men. Put them with Iris.” I stood frozen, a cold numbness spreading through me. I couldn’t understand how a single piece of paper could change them all so completely. What was on it? Why wouldn’t anyone tell me? My parents started to lead me away. I turned and ran, but my father’s grip was like a vise. I sobbed, begging them to let me go, begging them to just tell me the truth. They forced me into a car, stuffing a gag in my mouth. They locked me in a small, dark room with five naked men. I was paralyzed with fear, pounding on the door, screaming for them to let me out. But there was no answer. The men dragged me to the floor. Any resistance was met with blows. The baby became a pool of blood that dried on the filthy floor. A week later, my parents and Leo came for me. My mother smiled. “Iris, we’re going home.” I laughed, a broken, hollow sound. How could she pretend nothing had happened? I screamed at them, my voice raw. “Why? Why did you do this to me?!” My mother’s face hardened. My father slapped me. “You ungrateful bitch!” I was stunned into silence. My mother’s eyes were cold and sharp. “Iris has lost her mind. We should take her to a psychiatric hospital.” From the day I was committed, Leo sent people to torture me every day. The man who had once loved me so deeply now wanted nothing more than to see me dead. Three months later, I died. And I still didn’t know why that single piece of paper had made them all want to kill me. The terror of my past life washed over me. I placed a hand on my still-warm belly. I took a deep breath. This time, I would find out what happened. … At the hospital, I made sure I was the first to get the report. Even after the doctor confirmed the baby was healthy, I took it from her hands immediately. If Leo doesn’t see it, I thought, nothing will happen. But as soon as we left the doctor’s office, he asked for it, just like before. My heart pounded, but I forced a smile. “What do you want my report for?” He smiled back. “I’m the baby’s father, and I’m an OB/GYN. It’s perfectly normal for me to want to see it.” “Your own professor just said the baby and I are fine. You don’t trust her?” “It’s not that. I just want to be informed so I can take better care of you.” I deliberately tucked the report into my purse. “Well, today you’re not seeing it.” He thought I was being playful and went along with it. “Fine, fine. As long as you’re healthy, that’s all that matters.” I smiled and linked my arm through his. “I’m just going to the restroom. We’ll go home right after.” I grabbed my purse and headed for the restroom. I had glanced at the report, but so quickly that I hadn’t noticed anything unusual. I was going to study it in the stall, to find out what was so terrible that it could turn them all into monsters. But the moment I opened my purse in the restroom, my heart stopped. The report was gone. I rushed out and saw Leo down the hall, his face pale. The report that should have been in my bag was in his hand. He saw me and started walking towards me. I tried to run, but he grabbed my arm. His eyes were bloodshot, his gaze fixed on me. “Iris, this baby cannot be born. We’re going to the clinic. Now.” In my past life, I had never understood why my gentle, loving husband had transformed into a monster after seeing that report. The malice in his eyes was something I had never seen before. My body trembled, but this time, I was prepared. I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Help! Someone is trying to kill my baby!” The hospital corridor was crowded. My cry brought everything to a standstill. People turned to stare. Leo was taken aback. Then, I did something he never expected. I fell to my knees in front of him. “Husband, the doctor said the baby is healthy! Why are you making me have an abortion?” Leo gritted his teeth. “You bitch, shut your mouth!” he hissed. He tried to drag me away, but a few bystanders had already stepped forward. A man pulled him off me. “What do you think you’re doing?!” “Oh my god, the baby is healthy and he wants to abort it? Does he not want to be a father?” “He didn’t think about that when he was having his fun, did he?” “Forcing a pregnant woman to have an abortion is illegal! Someone call the police!” Leo’s breathing was heavy, his jaw clenched, his eyes murderous. But surrounded by the crowd, he was powerless. I never thought he would do it, but he suddenly smiled at me, a cold, chilling smile, and dialed my parents. When they arrived, they saw us surrounded by a crowd. They knew something had happened. My mother rushed to my side, her touch making me flinch. The kind strangers explained what had happened. My father raised his hand to slap Leo, but before the blow could land, Leo held up the report. “Dad, don’t look!” I tried to snatch it away. But my father was faster. He took one look at the paper. His eyes flickered. “Dad?” I whispered. When he looked at me again, his eyes were bloodshot. He slapped me across the face without a second’s hesitation. “You animal! Leo is doing this for your own good!” I was devastated, but I forced myself to argue. “But the doctor said my baby is healthy!” “I’m an OB/GYN too! You dare to talk back to me?” He was about to punch my stomach when my mother threw herself in front of me, shielding me with her body. “Are you insane?! Your daughter is pregnant!” she roared at him. But my father just laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. “You feel sorry for her? This bitch doesn’t deserve to be our daughter!” “She doesn’t deserve to be our child!” A wave of shock went through the crowd. People began to murmur, to point at my father. How could a father say such a thing to his own daughter? My mother was furious, but she knew my father, usually so gentle, must have a reason. She looked at the report in his hand. “Let me see that!” I tried to stop her, my eyes pleading. “Mom, the doctor said the baby is healthy. Please don’t look.” “Mom, if you don’t believe me, you can go ask the doctor.” I knew that if she saw the report, she would disown me too. She held me close, her voice soothing. “Don’t worry, honey. Your father and Leo are probably just mistaken. They’re not as experienced as me. I was the head of the department, remember? Trust me.” I shook my head frantically. “No, Mom, please don’t look. I trust you, but please, I’m begging you, don’t look.” But the more I tried to stop her, the more curious she became. Seeing that she was determined, I fell to my knees again. “Mom, if you look at this report, you’ll stop loving me, just like they did.” “Of course not, Iris. I’ve seen every kind of report in my career. And even if the baby isn’t Leo’s, I will always be on your side. You’re the person I love most in this world.” Her gentle gaze was so convincing. In the end, I couldn’t stop her. The moment she saw the report, the warmth in her eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp glint that made me tremble. Her face turned white, and she looked at me with a bitter, twisted smile. She wasn’t as emotional as my father or Leo, and that, somehow, was even more terrifying. “It’s alright, Iris,” she said, her voice like ice. “The baby is fine. Get up. Let’s go home.” She said it was fine, but the hand she extended to me was shaking uncontrollably. She was suppressing a storm. “No, I’m not going home.” I scrambled to my feet and backed away into the crowd. Her brow furrowed, her expression turning venomous. “Iris, what are you doing? You’re pregnant. What if something happens to you out here?” They were closing in on me. I grabbed the clothes of two strangers, falling to my knees again. “Please, help me! I can’t go back with them! They’ll kill my baby!” The strangers hesitated. I was a pregnant woman, but I was also clearly emotionally unstable. And the people trying to take me were my family. But thankfully, someone spoke up. “She’s pregnant and clearly distressed. You shouldn’t force her.” “Yes, what if you hurt the baby?” But my parents and Leo seemed deaf to their pleas, their faces contorted with rage as they advanced on me. “Iris, are you having a paranoid delusion?” “Come home with us! Stop causing a scene!” My parents tried to grab me, but a kind stranger stood in front of me. “We’re in a hospital. A pregnant woman in her state should be seen by a doctor. It could affect the fetus.” “We are doctors!” my father roared. “She doesn’t need to see anyone else!” The kind stranger hesitated. In that moment of uncertainty, Leo pulled me out of the crowd, dragging me across the floor without a shred of compassion. The onlookers, no matter how kind, were not going to physically fight my family for me. But then, a hand stopped Leo. “Who told you you could drag a pregnant woman like that?” A police officer’s sharp voice made Leo release me. My parents rushed to explain. “Officer, this is our daughter. She’s… not well. We’re taking her home.” The officer looked at me with suspicion. I quickly denied it. “No! They want to kill my healthy baby!” The three of them froze, but their faces held a strange, triumphant smile. “If you don’t believe me,” I continued, “you can check the hospital’s security cameras. They all want to kill my baby.” The police had the hospital staff pull up the footage. After watching it, a female officer stood in front of me, shielding me. She turned to my family. “Why do you want to abort this healthy child?” My parents sneered. Leo just looked at me with cold indifference. “Forcing a pregnant woman to have an abortion is a crime!” the officer said sternly. Leo remained unfazed. I grabbed the officer’s hand. “Let me see my prenatal report.” They had all changed after seeing it. The truth had to be on that piece of paper. At the officer’s request, Leo reluctantly handed it over. When I finally saw the report again, I understood. I finally understood why this child had to die.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393562”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel