My five-year-old daughter jumped to her death at school. While her teacher frantically called and texted, I calmly turned off my phone and watched a movie.
In my past life, I’d rushed there in panic—only to find her lifeless body. The teacher claimed my daughter confessed to enduring long-term beatings before jumping. Even my husband accused me of abuse.
Yet I’d cherished her, never raising a hand or voice. When the medical examiner revealed her body—covered in years of bruises—I became society’s monster. My parents were driven to suicide after online harassment bankrupted them. I died in prison, beaten by inmates.
I never understood: how could my pampered child have those injuries?
Now reborn on the day of her death, I’ll uncover the truth.
1
“Honey, come have breakfast. I learned to make this just for you.”
Markus, ever the gentle and attentive husband, brought a tray of breakfast and placed it in front of me.
Looking at his familiar, soft smile, a shiver ran down my spine.
Markus had married into my family. Since our wedding day, he had been a stay-at-home dad, taking care of me and our daughter, Lily. For years, he had been meticulous and thoughtful, attending to our every need. My friends all said I had found the perfect man, a man as gentle as water. I had believed them.
If only, in my last life, he hadn’t stood before a crowd, his eyes blazing with fury, and accused me of being a monster who abused her own child. I never would have known that this mild-mannered man had such a twisted side.
“Honey, what are you daydreaming about? Come on, eat up.”
Markus waved a hand in front of my face.
Suppressing the storm of confusion and rage in my heart, I sat down at the table.
Across from me, my daughter was taking small sips of her milk.
My eyes instantly turned red.
Today was the day.
After she finished breakfast and went to school, she would jump from the building.
When I arrived, all I would see was her body. I would hold her cold form, crying until I nearly passed out. But her teacher would point at me, telling me to stop my fake tears.
I wouldn’t understand.
She would declare, with righteous indignation, that my daughter had jumped because of my long-term domestic abuse. That my daughter had even confessed she would rather die than go home.
As I was arguing with the teacher, Markus would arrive.
I would be filled with hope, expecting him to clear my name.
But he would stand before the crowd, his eyes red, and roar at me.
“From the day I married into your family, you’ve done nothing but beat and curse me! You never treated me like a human being!”
“For Lily’s sake, I endured it all.”
“I told you, you can do whatever you want to me, but why did you have to do this to our daughter?”
“I begged you countless times! Why did you have to push her to her death?!”
His words were daggers, his voice thick with tears. He would list my supposed “atrocities” for all to hear, painting me as a sadistic monster who reveled in cruelty.
My desperate explanations would be drowned out by the jeers and curses of the crowd.
Then the medical examiner would arrive. He would reveal the dense network of scars covering my daughter’s body. Old injuries and new, a testament to long-term abuse.
“Even a tiger won’t eat its own cub! This woman is worse than an animal!”
“Someone like her doesn’t deserve a husband or a child! She doesn’t deserve to live!”
“Her poor daughter, stuck with such an inhuman monster!”
“Letting her live another second is a pollution to the earth!”
With the “irrefutable evidence” before them, the insults would rain down. Some people in the crowd would even throw trash and rocks at me, wishing they could kill me on the spot.
Amidst the storm of hatred, I would be handcuffed and taken away.
In an instant, hashtags like #EvilMother, #VenomousWoman, and #PoorFatherAndDaughter would dominate the internet. I would be subjected to the most vicious online abuse and curses imaginable.
My parents, too, would be doxxed. Their company would go bankrupt. They would be trapped in their home, unable to leave without being pelted with filth and screamed at. Eventually, they would die in their home, their bodies left to rot.
And I would be tortured to death by my fellow inmates.
Even as I died, I never understood. Why would my pampered daughter have a body covered in scars and jump to her death?
The pain of my past life was still vivid.
This time, I would uncover the truth.
2
I ate my breakfast as usual. When Markus was about to take our daughter to school, I stopped him.
“Lily’s hair is a bit messy. Let me brush it for her.”
I led my daughter into the bathroom and closed the door.
Without a word, I lifted her shirt.
Her skin was smooth as jade, without a single bruise. It was a world away from the scarred body of my last life.
So, what went wrong?
Why, in just a few hours, would her body be covered in injuries, both new and old?
“Honey, are you done yet? Lily’s going to be late.”
Markus’s voice, accompanied by a knock on the door, pulled me from my thoughts.
I opened the door and looked at him. “I’ll take her to school today.”
A flicker of confusion crossed his face, quickly replaced by a gentle smile. “Okay, honey. Thank you for doing that.”
He turned and began clearing the table without another word. His reaction was so normal, so unremarkable, that it was chilling. The more normal he acted, the more desperate I was to find the truth.
On the way to school, I couldn’t help but ask my daughter, “Lily, has anyone at school been bullying you?”
She smiled sweetly. “No, Mommy. I’m very popular at school. Everyone likes to play with me.”
I paused. “What about your teachers? Are they nice to you?”
“My teachers are all very nice! My homeroom teacher even tells me stories and gives me little presents.”
Her answers were natural and cheerful, her young face a picture of happiness.
I pulled the car over and looked at her seriously. “And what about me? How do you think Mommy treats you?”
She looked at me with her clear, wide eyes and answered without hesitation. “Mommy is very nice to me too.”
Then she leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Lily loves Mommy the most!”
I hugged her, saying nothing more, and drove her to the kindergarten.
Her teacher was waiting at the gate.
“Lily’s mom! What a nice surprise to see you bringing her to school today.” The teacher greeted me with a warm smile, taking Lily’s hand.
“It’s a slow day at the office,” I replied, smiling back while subtly observing her.
She crouched down, still smiling, and playfully tapped Lily’s nose. “See, Lily? Your mommy loves you so much. She’s so busy with work, but she still made time to bring you to school.”
The teacher’s demeanor was friendly and natural. Even the way she looked at my daughter seemed genuine and full of affection. She didn’t seem like a two-faced hypocrite at all.
But that only made me more confused.
In my last life, I had a decent relationship with this teacher. She was kind, treated my daughter well, and was always smiling. The kids in her class adored her. I had tried to treat her to dinner several times to thank her for taking such good care of Lily, but she always refused, saying it was just her duty as a teacher. In my mind, she was a dedicated, fair, and excellent educator.
Yet this same upright and easygoing woman, in just a few hours, would publicly accuse me of being a monster who abused her child.
I couldn’t figure out where it all went wrong.
3
There were three hours until my daughter was supposed to jump.
But I was still completely in the dark.
The thought of my vibrant daughter suddenly becoming a cold corpse made me break out in a cold sweat. In my last life, everything happened so suddenly that I was powerless to stop it. This time, I would not let the tragedy repeat itself.
After a brief chat with the teacher, I left.
But I didn’t go far. I parked nearby and continued to watch. I stayed in my car even after the school gates closed and classes began, my mind racing.
Why, when I had done nothing wrong, did I become a universally condemned monster?
Why was my daughter perfectly fine when she left the house, only to be covered in years of old injuries and jump to her death after just a few hours at school?
Why did my thoughtful husband and the kind, upright teacher both turn on me at the same time, accusing me of crimes I didn’t commit?
The questions swirled in my head, leaving me more and more confused. I knew something was terribly wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I forced myself to replay the events of my past life, searching for any clue, any thread that might unravel this mystery.
After forty minutes of intense concentration, it hit me. A flash of insight.
I immediately called my secretary. “I need you to find something out for me. Quickly.”
After giving my instructions, I waited in the car, my heart pounding in my chest. I desperately needed to know if I was finally close to the truth.
Ten minutes later, he called back with his findings.
Listening to his report, my hand holding the phone began to shake uncontrollably.
It was just as I suspected.
“I need you to do something for me,” I said, my voice firm. “As fast as possible. Spare no expense. And remember, don’t tell anyone.”
After hanging up, I drove away from the school.
Two hours later, the teacher’s calls began. One after another, frantic and insistent. When I didn’t answer, she started sending texts.
“Lily’s mom, something terrible has happened! Your daughter jumped from the school building! You need to get here right away!”
“Lily’s mom, why aren’t you answering your phone? Please come to the school as soon as you see this!”
The urgent messages kept coming.
I simply turned off my phone and went back to watching the movie I had started in the company lounge.
Half an hour later, the movie ended. I turned my phone back on to find every major social media platform flooded with curses and insults directed at me. Many people were live-streaming.
From the kindergarten.
In the video, Lily’s teacher was weeping, her voice thick with heartbreak.
“Lily was always such a good girl. All the kids and teachers at school loved her. I just don’t understand how her mother could do this to her, beat her so badly.”
“Once, Lily cried to me, saying she would rather die than go home. I thought she was joking. I never thought she would actually jump.”
“She was only five years old! How much suffering must she have endured to choose this path?”
“I’ve called her mother a dozen times, and she won’t answer. She won’t reply to my texts. It’s as if her daughter’s death means nothing to her. How can there be such a cold, heartless mother in this world?”
The teacher then played a video on her phone.
In the video, my daughter spoke in a small, timid voice. “Miss Davis, you can have all the candy in my backpack. Please, just don’t make me go home. My mommy hits me every day. I’m so scared of her. I don’t want to go home.”
Her eyes were filled with tears, her face a mask of terror. The sight made the teacher herself break down, covering her face as she sobbed.
The live-stream’s popularity skyrocketed. The comments were a torrent of grief for my daughter and vile hatred for me.
Markus was there too, clutching our daughter’s body, wailing for the cameras.
“Sophia’s family is rich, and she always looked down on me for marrying into it! At home, she was a tyrant! The slightest thing would set her off, and she would beat me and Lily! She never treated us like human beings!”
He rolled up his sleeves, showing the bruises on his arms to the camera.
“I tried to divorce her, but she threatened that I would never see Lily again. I couldn’t bear to leave my daughter, so I endured it. But I never imagined she would drive Lily to suicide! I regret it so much! Why did I ever marry such a venomous, cold-hearted monster!”
Just like in my past life, Markus delivered a heart-wrenching performance, his pain and grief palpable. The audience was enraged.
“Oh my god, how can such a disgusting woman exist?”
“She doesn’t even deserve to be called human! Her parents must be trash too, to raise a monster like her! I hope they all die a horrible death!”
“I’m shaking with anger! Someone please do us all a favor and get rid of her! My keyboard can’t do enough damage!”
The internet mob was in a frenzy, all of them seemingly desperate to see me destroyed. The power of public condemnation was terrifying. In my last life, faced with my daughter’s body, my husband’s betrayal, and the entire internet’s hatred, my spirit had been crushed. I was defenseless, unjustly imprisoned, and tortured to death. Even my parents had been dragged down with me.
But this time, as the same scene played out, as the curses and insults flooded my screen, I felt no turmoil.
Instead, I felt a thrilling sense of vengeance.
I put away my phone and drove to the kindergarten.
Seeing the massive crowd surrounding the scene, a small smile played on my lips.
The show was about to begin.
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1
The night of my first day at the new company, the CEO called my phone by mistake.
He thought I was Stella, the most beautiful girl in our batch of new interns.
He added me on a messaging app, and for the next six months, we had an online relationship.
It wasn’t until his birthday that he discovered he had the wrong person.
Humiliated and enraged, he took all his anger out on me. When he found out my mother was sick, he threatened to have her medication cut off if I didn’t obey him.
Powerless, I submitted.
But he only pushed further, demanding I “sacrifice” myself to a greasy tycoon for the sake of the company.
With no way out, I threw myself from the rooftop of the office building.
After I died, my mother, consumed by guilt, took her own life. My father, unable to bear the successive blows, wandered into the middle of the road and was killed instantly by a truck that couldn’t stop in time.
When I opened my eyes again, I was six months in the past.
I was back on the night the CEO made that first, fateful phone call.
My head was a chaotic fog. All I could remember was the wind howling on the rooftop.
When I hit the ground, there was a searing pain, and then, nothing.
Death, it seemed, wasn’t so terrible after all.
But the pain vanished as quickly as it came.
I opened my eyes again and found myself lying on the sofa.
My father’s gentle nagging filled the air.
“Don’t fall asleep on the couch, Anna. It’s getting colder; you’ll catch a cold.”
“I’m heading to the hospital to be with your mother in a bit. Dinner’s on the table. Make sure you eat on time, okay?”
My hand trembled uncontrollably.
My father… wasn’t he dead?
My mother… she was still getting her medicine?
Where was I? What time was it?
I scrambled up, fumbling for my phone. The large clock and date on the screen confirmed it. I had been reborn, sent back six months in time.
Back to the day my boss, Leo Cooper, made that mistaken call.
In my past life, Leo had dialed my number by accident. But even though it was a mistake, he was captivated by my voice. He asked to add me on a messaging app. Soon after, we began a secret relationship.
For six months, he was consumed with taking his company public, flying all over the world on business trips. We never even saw each other’s faces.
Then, on his birthday, he sent me an address. “It’s been long enough,” he wrote. “We should finally meet.”
I arrived, my heart fluttering with excitement, only to be met with his stunned, angry face.
“What are you doing here?”
I was frozen. If not me, who was he expecting?
“I’m sorry, I don’t date my employees. We’re breaking up.”
His attitude did a complete 180. From then on, he made my life at work a living hell. I was a designer, but he sent me to a construction site to haul cement, forbidding me from leaving until I had moved five thousand pounds of it. He’d make the entire office work overtime, then send me out alone to buy dozens of meals for everyone, only to cancel the overtime at the last minute because it was “too late for everyone to get home safely.”
I thought about quitting, of course. But he used my sick mother as leverage.
“If you quit, I’ll have the hospital cut off her medication. You’ll have all the money in the world and still won’t be able to save her.”
I knew he could do it, so I endured.
But my submission only made him bolder. He demanded I sleep with a disgusting tycoon to secure a deal for the company. The man was only a few years younger than my father but weighed four times as much. Worse, he was known throughout the industry for his sadistic tendencies. The young women he targeted all ended up with severe psychological trauma, vanishing from the professional world forever.
Seeing no escape, my heart finally died.
My phone was buzzing nonstop with his threatening texts.
“Don’t be ungrateful. It’s just money you’re after, isn’t it? What else could you possibly want?”
“Keep Mr. Harrison happy, and you’ll be well compensated.”
Even then, he didn’t forget to use my mother as a weapon.
“You’d better think carefully. Your parents’ lives are in your hands.”
Was my entire future just a choice between one form of submission and another?
I stood on the rooftop of the company building, took a final leap, and ended my miserable life.
But somehow, I was back.
Just as the clock on my phone hit 7:13 p.m., it began to ring.
Staring at the number I knew all too well, I didn’t answer.
I simply rejected the call.
And sent back a text.
“You have the wrong number. The last digit of her number is 9.”
2
The phone rang again.
Unsure of his intentions, I simply blocked the number.
But moments later, a contact request popped up on my work messenger, sent from his phone number. After submitting a resume for another job, I accepted it. I was morbidly curious to see what he would say this time.
The message came through instantly.
“Are you psychic or something? How did you know who I was looking for?”
That wasn’t what he said in my past life. Back then, it was, “Your voice is incredible, like the first day of spring.” I had thought it was the beginning of my happiness. I learned later that I was wrong. It was the beginning of my nightmare.
He loved my voice but pictured someone else’s face. My profile picture was similar to hers, and the last letter of our names was the same. A series of coincidences led him to believe I was her.
This time, I hadn’t let him hear my voice at all.
I was sure things would be different.
When I didn’t respond, another message came through.
“You must know who I am. Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“Are you nervous?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not one of those high-and-mighty types.”
He always said that. But in reality, Leo Cooper, the sole heir to the Cooper fortune and CEO of a massive corporation, looked down on people like me from the bottom of his heart. In his world, ordinary people like us were scum who would do anything to climb the social ladder.
That’s why, when he discovered his mistake, his first reaction wasn’t self-reflection, but vile abuse.
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you!”
“Have you looked in a mirror? What makes you think I’d ever be with someone like you!”
“This is disgusting. The most humiliating thing that’s ever happened to me.”
He had pulled a wad of cash from his wallet and thrown it in my face.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Scheming to seduce me for money! Here, take it! Now get out!”
I got out. But he never let it go. The endless bullying, the constant humiliation… it drove me to my death.
Now, reading his words, I didn’t believe a single one. It was almost laughable.
I typed back a simple reply: Mr. Cooper, my name is Anna Shaw. I am not Stella Shaw.
The chat went silent.
The “…” indicating he was typing appeared and disappeared several times, but nothing came through.
Just as I thought I might finally be free of this demon, a video call request popped up.
My finger slipped, and I accidentally answered.
On the other end, Leo was at a bar with his friends. Several handsome, smirking faces crowded the screen, staring at my side of the call.
Then, they burst out laughing.
It took Leo a long moment to compose himself. “Sorry about that,” he said, still trying to suppress a chuckle. “My mistake. Wrong person.”
One of his friends shouted from off-screen.
“Yeah, definitely not the beauty we saw last time. This one’s so plain.”
“Seriously. And the acne… I thought it was a toad at first.”
The insults were just as cruel as they were in my past life. And just like before, Leo did nothing to stop them.
But this time, I didn’t get angry. I just smiled faintly.
“I have to go. Goodbye, Mr. Cooper.”
3
Perhaps it was my calm, unflustered demeanor that piqued his interest.
He didn’t let me go as I had hoped.
Instead, he started sending me random, pointless messages every few days.
“Have you ever been to Europe? It’s beautiful when it snows here.”
“I love Portuguese red wine. What about you?”
“Are the interns so busy they don’t have time to reply to the CEO? When I get back, I’ll have a word with your department head.”
He even punctuated that last one with a cute emoji.
If this were my past life, his persistent attention would have charmed me. I would have quickly fallen into the illusion of a romance.
But this time, I was calm.
I knew he wasn’t interested in me. He was driven by a need to conquer.
In my past life, I had rejected him at first. I knew we were from two different worlds. But he had worn me down, starting with these same casual messages, slowly weaving himself into the fabric of my life.
So many times, I truly believed I was special to him.
But even before his birthday, I had started to see that he wasn’t the man I imagined. He wasn’t as innocent or as warm as he pretended to be. The moment we made our relationship “official,” his attitude toward me cooled considerably.
I didn’t understand it then. I do now. Once he had conquered something, he lost interest.
So this time, I didn’t reply to any of his messages. When a response was unavoidable, I kept my tone cold and professional.
“You’re joking, Mr. Cooper. Our supervisor is very good to us, and the workload is perfectly reasonable.”
He sent back a voice message, a chuckle in his tone. “You’re so serious. Can’t take a joke at all, can you?”
After listening to it, I exchanged a look with Stella, who sat at the desk across from me.
She held up her phone with a disgusted expression. On her screen was a message from Leo, full of cloying flirtation.
“Why are you ignoring me? Just because you’re beautiful doesn’t mean you can ignore people.”
“Talk to me, and big brother CEO will buy you candy when he gets back.”
Stella made a gagging motion and sent me a private message.
“If I die of cringing, is that a workplace injury? Will the company cover it?”
I replied, “Talk to him. Maybe big brother CEO will consider covering it.”
Stella shook her head so vigorously she looked like a bobblehead.
Leo would never have guessed that a quiet, introverted person like me would approach Stella the moment I realized he was harassing her, just as he had in my past life.
I had told her directly, “I know Leo Cooper is interested in you, but I’m advising you to stay far away from him.”
Most people would have seen it as a golden opportunity and dismissed my warning as jealousy. But Stella was a genuinely kind and simple soul, despite her stunning looks.
She was stunned by my words. I thought she didn’t believe me and was about to show her my chat history with Leo, but she grabbed my phone and turned off the screen.
“I believe you,” she said firmly. “We’re the working class, he’s the capitalist. Of course I believe you.”
“Just watch,” I had told her. “He won’t stop here.”
And I was right. After that, Leo started sending the same flirtatious messages to both of us simultaneously. He probably thought that with his status and looks, conquering two naive interns would be child’s play.
This time, however, he seemed to have miscalculated.
No matter what he tried, we both remained completely indifferent.
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1
The Thanksgiving holiday was looming, and the plan was to drive to my mother-in-law’s for the week.
The day before we were set to leave, my wife, Lillian, announced that her childhood sweetheart wanted to catch a ride with us.
I stared at her, incredulous. “But Aiden doesn’t drive, does he?”
Lillian, who always complained about being behind the wheel, suddenly volunteered for the long haul.
Even my daughter, Mia, sided with them. “Daddy, Uncle Aiden isn’t feeling well. You wouldn’t make him squeeze onto a crowded train, would you?”
I stopped arguing. Right there in front of them, I booked my ticket.
Only, it wasn’t to their destination. It was to my own parents’ house.
A wife who played favorites and a daughter I couldn’t seem to win over. I was done with them both.
…
The phone call had been blunt. Lillian didn’t even try to soften the blow.
“Bryan, Aiden needs a ride back to his hometown for the holiday, too. There won’t be room in the car, so you’ll have to book a train ticket.”
My hands, busy packing a suitcase, froze. I looked at her, trying to process what she’d just said. “What do you mean?”
Lillian, assuming I hadn’t heard, repeated herself with a sharp edge of impatience. “My car only seats five. With Aiden, we’ll be full. You can just take the train. It’s the same difference.”
Aiden. Her high school flame. The one that got away.
If he hadn’t married someone else all those years ago, Lillian would never have settled for me, the guy who’d been quietly in love with her for years. I was the consolation prize. I’d always hoped that time would wear away his place in her heart, but I was a fool. Ever since Aiden got divorced and moved back to Riverwood, everything had changed.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “You want me to take the train?” I asked, just to be sure.
“Is there a problem?” she replied, genuinely confused.
I couldn’t help but smile, a cold, humorless thing. “Have you forgotten who’s actually on our marriage certificate?”
Her hand slapped the table. “Bryan, don’t start this again! I’m just asking you to take a train home. Are you some kind of prince? Are you too good for public transport? It’s fine for everyone else, but not for you?”
It’s always the ones with something to hide who protest the loudest. This wasn’t the first time she’d lashed out at me to defend Aiden. Watching her now, her anger a flimsy shield for her guilt, all I felt was a profound sense of disappointment. It was as if all the years of my quiet devotion, my endless compromises, had just evaporated into nothing.
I stopped packing and spoke, my voice flat. “Fine. I just won’t go. You all have a good time.”
Lillian blinked, caught off guard. She struggled for a moment before softening her tone, a familiar tactic. “Honey, come on. Aiden has had claustrophobia since he was a kid; he can’t handle the tight spaces on a train. And my parents are getting older, Mia’s still so young… I had to ask you. I know it’s a lot, but you’re so understanding. You can see why I had to, right?”
She leaned in, trying for a sweet, conspiratorial tone. “Besides, the train doesn’t get stuck in holiday traffic. You’ll get there early! You can air out the old house and get it ready for us. It’s a win-win!”
In our family, I was the stay-at-home dad. I’d sacrificed my own career so Lillian could climb the corporate ladder, happily taking on the role of homemaker. But my sacrifice had earned me nothing but her indifference. Her heart had always belonged to Aiden.
She had considered Aiden’s phobia, her parents’ comfort, her daughter’s needs. I was the only one left out of her circle of care.
And that last line—about me getting the house ready—that was the real point.
“I seem to recall Aiden doesn’t drive,” I said quietly.
Lillian waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll drive. He can sit in the passenger seat.”
I remembered when I’d sprained my ankle last year and couldn’t drive. I’d asked her to pick me up. She’d thrown a fit. “Bryan, I’m your wife, not your chauffeur!”
I always thought she just hated driving.
Now I realized the truth. She didn’t hate driving. She just hated who was sitting next to her.
In that single, clarifying moment, my long-held obsession with Lillian shattered. It was over.
2
“If there’s no room for me,” I said, my voice hardening, “then what’s the point of me even showing up?”
Seeing my resolve, Lillian’s patient facade crumbled. “What is your problem? We promised my parents we’d all be there. You’re the son-in-law! If you just don’t show up, what will my family think? How does that make me look?”
I stared at her, speechless. You’re the one kicking me out, and now it’s my fault?
At that moment, our daughter Mia, hearing her mother’s raised voice, came running. She looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Daddy, are you not coming with us to Grandma’s? Who’s going to cook for me?”
Lillian seized on the comment, nodding as if it were perfectly logical. “Exactly. Are you going to let your daughter starve?”
So that’s what I was to them. A cook. A tool.
A dry, mirthless laugh was all I could manage. “Then let Aiden take the train.”
Before Lillian could even form a rebuttal, five-year-old Mia jumped in. “Daddy, Uncle Aiden isn’t well! How can you be so mean and make him take the train?”
I looked at my daughter, at the self-righteous certainty on her face, and my blood ran cold. My chest felt tight, like a band was squeezing my ribs. This was my little princess, the one I doted on, and her words were a betrayal.
My voice rose, escaping my control. “Do you even know who your father is anymore?”
Mia burst into tears. “You’re a mean daddy! I don’t want you to be my daddy! All you do is stay home while Mommy makes all the money! I like Uncle Aiden! I want him to be my dad!”
Her words, full of childish contempt, struck me dumb.
In that instant, the last bit of hope in me died.
Lillian snatched Mia from my side, cradling her protectively and glaring at me. “She’s just a child, Bryan! Why are you taking it out on her?” she hissed. “I asked you to take the train. Is it really worth making such a scene over?”
Emboldened by her mother’s support, Mia’s voice grew louder. “You’re a bad dad! I don’t want to ride with you! Uncle Aiden said he bought me lots of snacks for the road. You’re just a loser! You should take the train!”
Lillian tried to clamp a hand over Mia’s mouth, but it was too late. “She’s a kid, Bryan,” she said quickly. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
Oh, but she did. She had ears to hear, eyes to see, and a mouth to repeat what she was taught.
I finally understood. In the eyes of my wife, her precious Aiden, and even the daughter I had raised with all my heart, I wasn’t a husband or a father. I was the live-in help who handled the chores. A good-for-nothing failure.
And to think, I once had a promising career of my own.
I looked at the two of them, mother and daughter, two faces like mirror images, their affection for Aiden a shared, ugly trait.
Fine. If that’s how it is, I’m done. A housekeeper gets paid. Why the hell was I serving a bunch of ungrateful vipers for free?
Seeing my silence, Lillian tried to reason with me again. “Honey, don’t be angry. Just do this for me this one time. My parents are old, Mia’s young… it just makes sense for you to take the train. Remember those headphones you were looking at online? I’ll buy them for you on Black Friday, how about that?”
I scoffed. It was her signature move. After every fight, instead of an apology, she’d buy me the cheapest item on my wish list to smooth things over. For years, I told myself she was just being frugal for our family’s sake.
Then I found out she’d spent a month’s salary on a custom-made designer suit for Aiden’s birthday.
That’s when I learned the truth: a woman spends money on the man she loves.
And I was an afterthought. The argument we had over that suit was epic, and it ended with her calling me “childish and irrational.” That, I think, was when the first major crack appeared in our marriage. I had swallowed my pride and stayed, for Mia’s sake.
And here she was again, dangling a pair of headphones she wouldn’t even buy until the Black Friday sales.
The reality of my marriage crashed down on me: a demanding wife who treated me like a servant, and a daughter who despised me for not being a breadwinner. What was I even fighting for anymore? My entire life revolved around them, a boring, thankless loop of chores and errands with no space for myself.
Suddenly, I couldn’t stand being in that house a second longer.
I pulled out my phone. As Lillian and Mia watched, I booked the train ticket.
She and my daughter left the room, smug and satisfied.
What she didn’t know was that my ticket was for a different destination entirely: my own parents’ house.
3
The next morning, Aiden arrived bright and early, dragging a suitcase behind him. Lillian had insisted on an early start to beat the holiday traffic on the highway.
The moment she saw him, she rushed forward. “You’re here so early! I was going to pick you up from your place.” Her voice was laced with concern. “They said it’s going to get cold. Did you pack warm clothes?”
I just stood there in the doorway, a silent observer to their tender reunion, feeling nothing at all.
My eyes drifted to my own large suitcase, which I had packed the night before. I remembered Lillian’s words: “Bryan, the trunk isn’t big enough for all that. You’re a grown man, what do you need so much stuff for? You can just take that big one with you on the train.”
Two suitcases, roughly the same size. For him, it was a question of whether he had enough clothes. For me, it was an inconvenience.
The message was clear: Lillian knew how to care for someone. Just not for me.
I didn’t argue. Her suggestion suited my plans perfectly.
After a few minutes of fawning over Aiden, they finally seemed to remember I was there. Aiden turned to me, his face a mask of feigned apology.
“Bryan, man, I’m really sorry about this. It just so happens I was heading home for Thanksgiving too, so… well, thanks for taking the train.”
The words were contrite, but his tone was pure gloating.
I raised an eyebrow at the amateur actor in front of me. “If you feel so bad, why don’t you head to the station and buy a ticket now?”
Aiden froze, clearly not expecting me to call his bluff.
Like a mother hen, Lillian immediately stepped in front of him, shielding him from me. “Bryan,” she said, her voice sharp with displeasure, “we talked about this last night. Don’t go back on your word.”
From behind her, Aiden chimed in with a saccharine, cloying explanation. “It’s not your fault, Bryan, really. I’ve just had this thing since I was a kid… can’t do trains. The enclosed space… I can’t breathe. Lily was just worried about me, that’s all. She insisted I ride with her. Please don’t let this come between you two because of me.”
It was a masterclass in passive aggression, a blatant declaration of his importance over mine. And in that moment, I was so profoundly grateful that I had given up on her.
I watched them, standing so close they were practically one person.
A sudden laugh escaped me. “Relax. I was just joking. Why so tense?”
Lillian’s expression softened, and she busied herself with loading the luggage into the car.
Just then, Mia, hearing the commotion, came tearing out of her bedroom. She barreled right past me, shoving me aside, and threw herself into Aiden’s arms. “Uncle Aiden! You’re finally here! I missed you so, so much!”
The force of her push sent me stumbling into the doorframe. A sharp pain shot up my arm, and I knew a nasty bruise was already forming. Not once since she started elementary school had Mia ever shown me that kind of affection. She only ever complained that I was too strict, too overprotective. I was cautious because she’d always been a sickly child. But my care had curdled into a reason for her to resent me.
In contrast, she adored Aiden.
Her bright, cheerful voice cut through the air. “Uncle Aiden, can you be my new daddy?”
“If you were my daddy, I could see you every day!”
“We could go to theme parks and eat yummy food all the time! I’m so tired of just doing homework, homework, homework!”
Each word was a razor blade slicing across my heart, turning years of fatherly devotion into weapons against me.
No one stopped her.
Aiden just shot a triumphant glance at me over her head. He hugged her close, his voice dripping with faux tenderness. “Well, if you want to call me ‘daddy,’ I suppose you can. I’d be lucky to have such a cute little girl.”
I stood there, watching this grotesque little play unfold. Suddenly, I began to applaud, a slow, deliberate clap. “A real touching scene. Betrayal looks good on you both.”
Mia’s face flushed with shame.
Aiden, however, doubled down, positioning himself as the righteous one. “Kids are pure, Bryan. They know who’s good to them. Isn’t that right?”
I nodded slowly. “You’re right. Though unlike some people, I don’t have a thing for playing dad to other men’s kids.”
His face darkened. Seeing Lillian returning from the elevator, he raised his voice, performing for her benefit. “Bryan, I was just trying to remind you to pay more attention to your daughter! How could you twist my words like that?”
Lillian glared at me, ready to jump to his defense.
But before she could say a word, I slapped a folded document onto her chest.
“I’m setting you two lovebirds free,” I announced, my voice ringing with finality. “There’s the divorce agreement.”
Then, without a backward glance, I grabbed my large suitcase and walked out of their lives.
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Five years after I accidentally landed in this world, the System finally flagged me as a bug.
It was preparing to send me back to my own time, granting me three days to say my goodbyes.
On the first day, my wife, Valentina, held a wedding ceremony with her childhood sweetheart. I smiled as I personally placed the ring on his finger.
On the second day, my birthday, she sent 999 roses to her sweetheart with a heartfelt public declaration of her love. I quietly liked the post on her social media feed.
On the third day, she planned to take her darling sweetheart on a honeymoon to the Lake District—the one place I had always dreamed of seeing. I helped them pack.
As they boarded the train, I turned and stepped into the portal that would take me home.
1
I was reading when Sam called.
His voice was a storm of indignation, all on my behalf.
“Valentina has lost her mind! She actually went through with a wedding for that childhood friend of hers, Noah, just because of some whimsical promise he made.”
“You’re her actual husband!”
“You should have been there, Leo. All her friends and family were calling Noah ‘son-in-law.’ He was smiling so hard his face was about to crack. And Valentina? She didn’t say a word. Anyone who didn’t know better would think they were the real couple.”
I wasn’t at the wedding, but I knew.
After all, I was the one who put the ring on Noah’s hand.
Besides, my social media feed had been flooded with them all day. Valentina, who never posted anything, had uploaded seven different stories dedicated to Noah.
The funny thing was, when we got married, she’d said our friends list was full of unimportant people, that there was nothing worth posting.
So now, everyone who saw their feed thought Noah was her boyfriend, her husband.
I let out a soft laugh. “It’s alright, Sam. Don’t be angry.”
He grumbled for a while longer before finally calming down, but his tone shifted to confusion. “Leo, how are you not angry at all?”
My hand paused. Perhaps the old me would have been furious. I would have caused a scene, maybe even screamed at her, demanding an explanation.
But I was leaving now. I was going back to my own time.
That era wasn’t like this one, with its advanced technology and peaceful, prosperous society. In my time, many people still starved, still shivered in the cold. I needed to learn as much as I could before I left, to take that knowledge back with me. There was too much to do. I had no time for heartbreak.
“Maybe I’m just over it,” I said with a wry chuckle.
Then, my voice turned serious. “Sam, let’s meet up tomorrow. I think… I have to go soon.”
Sam was my only real friend here, the only person I was reluctant to leave.
Before he could answer, a voice came from behind me. It was Valentina, her tone sharp with a rare hint of panic.
“Go? Leo, where are you going?”
For some reason, hearing those words made Valentina’s heart clench.
I didn’t say anything, but Noah, standing beside her, spoke up with a smirk. His eyes were full of mockery, but his voice was pitifully soft.
“I knew it. The wedding today must have upset Leo. It’s all my fault. Valentina, you should comfort him. After all, in this world, you’re the only one he can rely on.”
He finished with a light cough, pressing a hand to his chest.
Valentina immediately rushed to his side, her eyes filled with concern. But Noah’s words had reminded her: Leo didn’t belong to this time. Where could he possibly go without her?
At that thought, her expression hardened into one of disgust.
“Leo! I told you, I was just helping Noah fulfill a dream! Do you have to be so difficult about it?”
She snorted. “You want to go? Fine. Go now. I’d like to see how far you get.”
I stood frozen as the wind from the open window chilled me to the bone. Watching them walk upstairs together, a cold smile touched my lips. She said it was to fulfill a dream. Were the red marks on your neck part of his ‘dream’ too, Valentina?
Whatever. In three days, I would be free of this place.
2
I was out the door early the next morning.
Sam was already waiting for me at the restaurant we’d chosen. I showed our reservation, and the waiter led us to a table by the window.
The moment we sat down, Sam grabbed my hand, his voice urgent. “What did you mean on the phone yesterday? About leaving?”
I paused, then told him everything. His face crumpled.
“Leo, does that mean I’ll never be able to find you again?”
I thought for a moment, then remembered the inter-dimensional communicators the System had given me as compensation. I handed one to Sam. I had selfishly asked the System for two, but I suppose the other one was no longer needed.
Just as I was lost in thought, a familiar voice cut through the air.
Valentina was standing there with Noah, her eyes narrowed at me. “Leo, what are you doing here?”
She looked around. “And in my reserved seat, no less.”
I blinked. Just then, the waiter hurried over, his face apologetic.
“My apologies, sir. It was our mistake. We seem to have mixed up Mr. Noah’s reservation with yours.”
Valentina faltered.
Noah spoke up, his voice gentle. “Valentina, I just wanted to have a nice meal with you. I didn’t realize it would bother Leo so much that he’d follow us here. Maybe I should just go.”
Valentina immediately wrapped an arm around him, shooting me a cold glare.
That’s when Sam’s voice cut in, sharp as ice.
“Valentina, Leo is leaving for good, and you’re still taking Noah’s side?”
Valentina barely glanced at me, her voice indifferent. “Sam, I know you’re Leo’s friend, but we both know where he comes from. Where could he possibly go?”
Sam’s chest heaved with anger. He opened his mouth. “Do you have any idea what he—”
Before he could finish, I grabbed his hand and shook my head.
Valentina’s inquisitive gaze landed on me. “He what?”
Noah chimed in, covering his mouth with a delicate hand. “Is Leo going to say he’s returning to his own timeline?”
A mocking smile played on his lips. “That’s a fairytale for children, isn’t it? If you have a problem with me, Leo, just say so. I’ll leave.”
With tears welling in his eyes, he turned as if to go, but Valentina grabbed him.
She pulled him into a fierce hug. “Noah, don’t be silly. As long as I’m here, this is your home. No one can make you leave.” She shot me a threatening look.
I had mentioned leaving countless times, and she had always dismissed it as a joke. But one flippant remark from Noah, and she was so distraught she would have torn her own heart out to prove her devotion.
A strange, desolate feeling washed over me.
My God, Leo. What a pathetic wreck you’ve become.
3
I had to drag Sam out of the restaurant, but he still shot a few last glares at Valentina.
“Leo, why didn’t you just tell her the truth?”
I gave him a bitter smile. “Even if I did, do you really think she’d believe me?”
Sam’s words caught in his throat.
It was evening by the time I got home. As I approached the house, I saw workers in the garden, digging up the camellia bushes that were in full bloom.
I loved camellias. In my own time, I had planted a whole grove of them outside my home. I had only mentioned them to Valentina once or twice, and she, in an effort to make me feel a sense of belonging, had planted this garden for me with her own hands.
But now…
One of the workers wiped the sweat from his brow. “Miss Valentina’s orders. Said Mr. Noah likes roses, so she wants all these pulled out to make room for them.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
I stood there for a long time before finally pushing the door open.
It’s for the best, I thought. This isn’t my home, after all.
When Valentina saw me, she looked away, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. It was a rare thing for her to offer an explanation. “It’s not really the season for camellias anymore.”
It’s not the season for roses either.
I set my things down and glanced at the dinner table. My appetite vanished. The table was laden with spicy dishes, every single one of them.
She smiled, a hint of pleading in her voice. “See? All your favorites.”
But Valentina, you know I have a weak stomach. You know I can’t handle spice. The one who loves spicy food has always been Noah.
Still, I thought, this might be our last meal together for the next decade, or perhaps forever. So I sat down and forced a few bites.
Just then, her phone rang.
She had it on speaker, so I could easily hear the voice on the other end.
“Valentina, the power went out at my place. I’m so scared.”
Without a second thought, Valentina dropped her chopsticks.
“Noah, don’t worry. I’m on my way.”
She rushed for the door without another glance at me. As she reached for the handle, I couldn’t stop myself.
“Valentina, tomorrow is my birthday. Will you come back?”
Her hand froze on the doorknob. She paused, but in the end, she said nothing and left.
Five years ago, I had stumbled into this strange, new world. I knew nothing, and it was Valentina who found me, who taught me the rules of this era.
I remember my first birthday here. She bought me a huge cake. I had no friends, so she sat beside me, singing the birthday song, trying to create a festive atmosphere. The candlelight in the dim room reflected in her bright, shining eyes. “Leo,” she had said, “happy birthday.”
That single glance cost me my heart.
This would be my last birthday in this world. I wanted to say a proper goodbye.
But Valentina never came.
In the dark room, the extinguished candles dripped wax onto the untouched cake.
On my phone, a new post from Valentina: a picture of her holding 999 roses, offering them to Noah, who stood beside her in a custom-tailored suit, while she made a public, heartfelt declaration of her love.
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I saved Cole Richardson’s life, and it cost me my sight. He swore to God he would be my eyes for the rest of our days, that he would never leave my side.
I followed every one of the doctor’s orders, clinging to the hope of recovery. The day my vision finally returned, I ran home, my heart soaring, ready to share the incredible news.
But what I found was Cole tangled up in our bed with his secretary, Kylie. They were locked in a passionate embrace, lost in each other.
In the heat of the moment, Cole moaned her name.
“Cole,” Kylie whispered breathlessly, “why don’t you just divorce the blind girl? I’m the one who truly loves you, who understands you.”
“Just wait a little longer,” he panted. “I need more time.”
That night, a blizzard raged outside. I walked out of our home in a thin housecoat, my heart a frozen stone in my chest. I booked a one-way ticket back to Shadowpine Ridge.
I would disappear from his life, and he would never find me again.
1
After booking the flight, I had assumed the two lovers inside might have finished their sordid affair. But when I steeled myself and walked back into the house, they had moved their performance from the bedroom to the living room. They were still wrapped around each other, kissing so fiercely the air tasted of sweat and sex.
Cole’s lust-filled eyes met mine. For a second, he bit his lip, trying to silence a moan.
Kylie, however, decided to play a wicked game, her hands roaming his body, deliberately teasing him.
“Relax, Cole,” she purred, her lips brushing against his ear. “Mara’s blind. She can’t see a thing.” She shot me a look of pure contempt.
Cole swatted her playfully. “Don’t be naughty. We can’t let her hear anything.”
“Oh, but I think this is so much more thrilling,” she giggled. “Oops. I think we’re out of those. We need a new one.”
Kylie lifted her head, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. She was reminding him, a wicked smile playing on her lips. He fought to control his breathing as he looked across the room at me, still sitting on the sofa.
“Should she get it, or should I?” Kylie provoked, her eyes daring him.
After a moment of hesitation, Cole gave in to her whim.
“Mara, honey,” he called out, his voice strained. “My throat’s a little sore. Could you grab that box of cold medicine from the coffee table for me?”
My face was a pale mask as I stared at him. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes glazed over, his hands clutching Kylie as if he couldn’t bear to let her go for even a second.
I dug my nails into my palms, forcing my emotions down. I glanced at the so-called “cold medicine” on the table. It was a box of condoms.
Cole was asking me to bring them condoms.
My heart felt like it had turned to ash. I played the part of the blind wife, my hands fumbling across the coffee table until I found the box. I walked over to them.
“You’ve caught a cold?” I asked, my voice trembling, though I tried to sound as caring as ever. He, of course, didn’t notice. “Is it serious?”
“N-no, I’m fine. I’ll just take some medicine and get some sleep.”
Kylie’s fingers traced a line down his chest. He shot her a look that was half-warning, half-pleasure, silently begging her to stop before taking the box from my hand.
“You should get some rest,” he said to me. “I’ll sleep in the guest room. I don’t want you to catch this.”
And with that, Cole swept Kylie into his arms and carried her, light as a feather, toward the guest room.
After they were gone, a bitter sting filled my nose, and my eyes burned red. Even though I had already decided to leave him, to let him go, the pain was a physical, tearing thing.
He had promised he would never lie to me, never betray me. But he had broken his vow.
I picked up my phone and called my mentor.
“Elder Maeve,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m ready to come home to the Ridge and take up my duties as your successor.”
“Are you certain, Mara?” she asked, her voice rich with the wisdom of years. “Once you return, you can never leave again. You know the Ridge is hidden for a reason. We are a world apart. Can you truly bear to leave Cole?”
“I can,” I answered without hesitation.
The Elder was silent for a long moment. “Very well. Come home in seven days.”
Once, I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him. I had hesitated, torn. Now, he had made the choice for me.
I glanced at the closed door of the guest room. The sounds of their panting were a muffled rhythm in the quiet house.
“I let my gifts wither for years,” I murmured into the phone. “I have a healer’s knowledge, yet I brought it shame. Now, I am ready to carry the burden, to ease yours.”
“Good,” she said, her voice filled with pride. “You are a true daughter of the Ridge. You will not disappoint me. In eight days, we will all be waiting for you at the entrance to the hollow.”
“I’ll be there on time.”
After a few more words with my mentor, I hung up. Just then, the guest room door opened, and Cole walked out, wearing nothing but a white dress shirt. His neck, his chest… they were covered in scratches and bite marks, souvenirs from Kylie’s passion. He made no effort to hide them. Why would he? I was blind.
2
A wave of revulsion, so powerful it was physical, washed over me. I gagged, doubling over with a dry heave.
Seeing my reaction, Cole rushed towards me, his face etched with concern. As he got closer, I was suffocated by the scent of Kylie’s perfume—a custom blend he had commissioned for her, a scent unique in all the world.
The nausea intensified. I shoved him away, my body instinctively recoiling from his touch. Still playing my part, I fumbled my way to the bathroom.
I collapsed onto the toilet, retching into the bowl. When the spasms subsided, my eyes fell on the wastebasket. Lying on top was a pregnancy test. Two bright red lines. I stared at it for a long time, and it seemed to stare back, mocking my own inadequacy.
I don’t know how to describe the feeling that hollowed me out. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. There was only a vast, endless ache.
We hadn’t been intimate in the six months since I’d lost my sight. So he had turned to Kylie. And now, she was carrying his child.
“Mara, what’s wrong?” Cole’s panicked voice came from behind me. He wrapped his arms around me, his face a mask of alarm. “Are you sick? When you pushed me away just now… my heart just sank.”
The hands on my waist were trembling, as if he feared I might disappear at any moment. He held me tighter.
One second, you’re with another woman. The next, you’re whispering words of love to me.
You’re a hell of an actor, Cole.
I pried his hands off me and put some distance between us. “It’s probably just my stomach. I’ve had trouble keeping anything down lately.”
I didn’t know when I had learned to lie so easily. I used to hate people like this, and now I had become one of them.
But my words seemed to throw Cole into a full-blown panic. The man who was a notorious neat freak didn’t seem to care that I was covered in my own sickness. He pulled me into a fierce hug.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “I’ve been so busy with work, I haven’t had time for you. You’ve been eating all alone, not taking care of yourself. It’s all my fault.”
He cupped my face, his brow furrowed with genuine-looking pain. He led me back to the bedroom and pulled out a fresh set of clothes. I stopped him, dressing myself.
Cole froze, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. It was the first time since we were married that I hadn’t needed his help. His heart, he later told me, skipped a beat.
I was already in bed when he carefully tucked the covers around me.
“Mara, are you angry with me? Is it because I haven’t been spending enough time with you?” he asked softly. “Tomorrow’s your birthday. I’ll take the whole day off. I’ll spend it all with you, okay?”
The man who was a ruthless titan of industry, who made his rivals tremble, could also have this pleading, humble side. I didn’t know if I was lucky or cursed.
Drowsiness washed over me. As I was drifting off, Cole must have thought I was asleep. His phone buzzed. He quickly silenced it, then whispered my name twice. When I didn’t stir, he answered.
“You’re terrible,” Kylie’s voice purred from the other end. “You ripped my panties. Now, you’re going to get me a new pair. Immediately.”
“I’ll be right there,” Cole whispered back. He glanced down at me, stroked my cheek tenderly, then quietly got up and left the room.
My hand clenched the bedsheet, and the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. She had never left. He was keeping her here, in our home. Taunting me with what I couldn’t see.
I tried to soothe myself. It’s okay. Just seven more days. Then you’ll be free. You’ll be done with him forever.
3
I woke up the next morning to find Cole already in the kitchen. He had prepared a feast for breakfast—all my favorite pastries and side dishes. He picked one up with his chopsticks and held it to my lips.
“Open up, sweetheart. Let me feed you.”
Across the table, Kylie pouted, clearly displeased.
Right in front of me, Cole pulled out his phone and typed a message to her: I’ll make it up to you later. Don’t cause a scene in front of Mara. I’ll give you anything you want.
A triumphant smirk flickered across Kylie’s face. She shot me a disdainful look, then stood and walked away from the table. As she passed Cole, her fingers brushed against his thigh before she sashayed out of the room.
I didn’t take the food Cole offered. Instead, I picked up my own chopsticks and, pretending I couldn’t see, chose something else from the table. Cole assumed I was still sulking. After breakfast, he insisted on taking me out.
He had chartered a private yacht and invited dozens of our friends for what he called a grand birthday celebration for me.
He held my hand tightly the entire time, guiding me, afraid I might fall. He kept bringing up sweet memories from our past, his voice soft with nostalgia.
I said nothing, the irony and pain a tangled knot in my gut. I once believed we would grow old together, inseparable. It had all become a joke. Cole craved excitement, the thrill of a young, new body. He had forgotten the vows we made at our wedding.
The path onto the yacht was carpeted with vibrant, dew-kissed rose petals.
I had always hated roses. Cole knew that. But Kylie loved them. This grand gesture wasn’t for me. So much for a birthday party in my honor. Another lie.
“Mara, this is where we had our wedding,” Cole said, his voice thick with emotion. “It was broadcast live around the world, so everyone would know how much Cole Richardson adored you.”
As he spoke, a single tear escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek. He lifted my hand and pressed my fingertips to the wetness. A man must be truly in love to shed a tear so sincerely. If he hadn’t cheated, hadn’t betrayed me, I might have been moved enough to cry with him.
He had loved me once. But that was a lifetime ago. Now, his love was split, shared with Kylie.
I pulled my hand away, my expression as calm as still water. Cole, lost in his own memories, looked hurt by my lack of response, his eyes falling. But it only lasted a second. His face lit up, a smile spreading across his lips as he looked towards the deck.
Kylie was walking towards us, wearing a stunning, provocative dress that Cole had clearly commissioned for her. The dress clung to her curves, making her look both elegant and expensive. Compared to my simple, understated clothes, I was utterly eclipsed.
“Happy birthday, Mrs. Richardson,” Kylie said with a radiant smile. She then moved to Cole’s side and, ignoring everyone else, took his hand in hers.
“Mr. Richardson,” she announced, “everything is ready. I’ll count to three.”
“One!”
“Two!”
“Three!”
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The first thing the Oscar-winning actress Melissa Lindsay did after coming back to life was march into the studio and terminate her contract.
“Ms. Lindsay, the Golden Griffin Awards ceremony is just around the corner. Are you absolutely certain you want to invoke the early termination clause now?”
“Once you do, the stage name ‘Melissa Lindsay’ will be permanently retired. It will vanish from public record, impossible to trace.”
Without a word, Melissa pulled a black card from her purse and paid the exorbitant fee.
“I’m certain.”
The staffer processed the payment quickly. “The termination is successful. The paperwork will take ten days to finalize.”
Ten days. Exactly the day of the Golden Griffin Awards.
In her past life, she had loved her husband, Adrian Thorne, to the point of madness. But after a car crash a year later, she had watched, helpless, as he pulled her lead surgeon from her operating room to go save the life of his one true love.
Given a second chance, she wanted nothing more to do with him.
Leaving the office, Melissa bought a one-way ticket to America, departing in ten days. She wrapped her fur coat tighter around herself and stepped out into the biting wind.
Snow swirled against the car window, the cold seeping through the glass. She rubbed her icy fingertips together, her gaze falling on the massive digital billboard in the city square.
The woman on the screen was radiant, and the luxury brand ring she wore was deliberately placed on her ring finger.
A week ago, that billboard had featured Melissa, the youngest actress to ever win the industry’s highest honor.
It was her boss, her husband, Adrian Thorne, the CEO of Zenith Entertainment, who had personally ordered the change. He had replaced her with his beloved, Echo Towne, a social media influencer who had recently gone viral.
Melissa’s eyes reddened. She looked away from the screen and opened her phone.
Her last post was a photo of her hand intertwined with Adrian’s.
The caption read: “To find a single heart, and never be apart.”
Adrian had been the first to like it.
The comments below were a sea of blessings, all gushing about their fairy-tale romance.
“I knew I’d find a picture of Adrian here! His own social media is a ghost town.”
“Melissa is a goddess, and Adrian is so handsome! But why is he wearing a full suit on a private island in Fiji? Isn’t he hot?”
“You must be a new fan. Eight years ago, the Thorne mansion caught fire. Adrian got out, but when he realized Melissa was still inside, he ran back into the flames to save her. She was unharmed, but he suffered severe burns. He hasn’t worn a short-sleeved shirt since. Always buttons his collar to the top.”
“Who doesn’t know what an incredible man Adrian Thorne is? He bought her a two-hundred-million-dollar private island just because she said she gets cold easily. I’d light incense to my ancestors if my husband were half as good…”
“Other celebrity couples might fail, but not these two. Adrian is obsessed with his wife.”
Reading the comments, a self-mocking smile twisted Melissa’s lips.
A man who would never fail? Adrian had been cheating on her for six months.
His countless nights of “working late” were all spent with Echo Towne.
And she, like a fool, had believed he was working hard for their home, for their future together.
Melissa’s finger paused. She scrolled past the comments, her eyes landing on the last post Adrian had liked.
He would have no idea that the famous line she’d quoted was only half of the original verse. The forgotten first line was: I heard you have a divided heart, so I have come to break things off.
Lost in thought, the car pulled up to their villa.
The snow was coming down hard. Even with the butler holding an umbrella, flakes drifted onto Adrian’s dark eyelashes.
The dusting of white couldn’t hide the smile in his eyes. “Melissa, you’re home.”
He reached out to take her hand, to warm it between his.
But her eyes caught sight of a woman’s hair tie on his wrist—one that wasn’t hers. A chill seeped into her heart.
Before she could pull away, his hands were already covering hers, his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand.
“It’s Valentine’s Day. I’ve decorated the house. Come see if you like it.”
He opened the door to a scene of soft, ambient lighting and the romantic scent of candles.
Melissa walked to the dining table. Instead of her usual red wine, she asked the butler for a glass of sparkling water.
Adrian looked puzzled. “A sudden change of taste?”
Melissa lowered her eyes, her gaze briefly flickering towards her stomach before she looked up again. “Nothing. Just wanted to try something new.”
Suddenly, Adrian’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at Melissa, then quickly declined the call.
But the phone immediately began vibrating again, insistent.
He shot another look at Melissa before finally answering. His face changed. “I’m so sorry, Melissa,” he said, his voice laced with apology. “It’s an emergency at the office.”
Melissa took a sip of the sparkling water. It tasted of nothing but bitterness.
“It’s fine. You go handle it.”
Adrian leaned in and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “I’ll finish up as quickly as I can.”
Melissa’s eyelashes fluttered. She watched him walk into his study.
Some emergency. In her past life, she had caught a glimpse of his phone. It was a photo from Echo Towne, posing in a nurse’s uniform.
2
Melissa silently opened her phone and tuned into Echo Towne’s live stream.
A comment flashed across the screen: “It’s been ages and he hasn’t called. Is your boyfriend with someone else?”
Echo Towne touched up her lipstick, then stood to show off the curves accentuated by the tight nurse’s uniform. A sly smile played on her lips. “He’s probably just held up by some stray dog on the road. What can I do? He has such a big heart.”
A moment later, an account named “For_Towne” flooded the chat with 100 “virtual castles.”
The user sent a message: “Baby, don’t wear that on stream.”
The word “baby” felt like a boulder crushing Melissa’s chest, making it hard to breathe.
Echo Towne’s eyes lit up with delight, and she pouted playfully. “I just wanted to make you jealous.”
“Besides, you didn’t even spend Valentine’s Day with me. Can’t I have a little bit of revenge?”
Adrian said nothing more. Instead, he gifted her 9,999 of the stream’s most expensive gift: the “Cosmic Heart.”
Then another message: “One more gift. Look outside your window.”
A series of loud booms echoed through the night. The sky outside Echo Towne’s window erupted in a dazzling display of fireworks. Her delighted smile was one of a person who is so thoroughly cherished, they fear nothing.
“Well, viewers,” she cooed, “it seems my boyfriend is a little possessive. I have to go for now.”
Meanwhile, in the dining room, the steak on the table grew cold. The scented candles had burned down to stubs.
As Melissa swallowed the last of her sparkling water, Adrian finally emerged from his study.
“That was Director Evans. I’ve secured the role for you in his new film. You’re the lead.”
Director Evans was a legend, having won numerous international awards at a young age. A role in his film was a near-guaranteed path to an award.
If she hadn’t just watched the live stream, Melissa might have actually believed him.
She was silent for a moment before replying. “Most of Evans’s films are art-house pictures. They often have nude scenes. You don’t mind?”
Adrian was taken aback. “Why would I be so petty?”
Because all of your possessiveness is reserved for Echo Towne, she thought.
The end of love always begins with the end of jealousy.
Melissa lowered her gaze to hide her expression. “Tell him I’m passing. I want to take a break for a while.”
Adrian’s response was gentle. “Alright. I’ll look for another one for you.”
There would be no next time. In ten days, she would be gone forever.
That night, Adrian held her as he always did, his body warming her cold hands and feet.
The image of the billboard flashed in her mind again.
Melissa feigned casualness. “Echo Towne has only had a couple of cameo roles. She’s not even a proper actress yet. How is she landing so many major endorsements?”
Adrian’s body tensed for a second. “I imagine her boyfriend is backing her.”
The words “her boyfriend” were a sharp, physical pain in Melissa’s heart.
She tightened her grip on the corner of the duvet, her voice strained. “Is it really a good idea for Zenith to sign her? What if she wants to get married, or pregnant? Can she afford the contract termination fee?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Adrian replied, “Her boyfriend loves her so much, he would definitely pay the fee for her. He’d marry her in a heartbeat.”
Perhaps realizing how final his words sounded, he paused, then added, “I’ve met him.”
So that was it. That was his real plan.
All Echo Towne had to do was say the word, and he would abandon everything to be with her.
What did that make their past? A ten-year dream?
Melissa said nothing more. Tears welled in her eyes, silently tracing paths down her temples in the darkness.
Once Adrian’s breathing became deep and even, Melissa slipped out of his embrace and went to the study.
The moonlight cast a lonely glow on her frail figure.
She looked at a photo of them from college on the desk and smiled a bitter, self-deprecating smile, tears once again blurring her vision.
Since she was a child, her goal had been singular: to become the most famous actress in the country. She had to be beautiful, talented, and in perfect shape. No scandals, no boyfriends. For eighteen years, she had been ruthlessly disciplined, believing she would dedicate her life to her art.
But for Adrian, she had broken all her own rules.
The day they got together, he had told her, “Melissa, I’ll never make you regret this. I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world.”
It turned out that promise had a ten-year expiration date.
Pulling her gaze away, Melissa took out the divorce agreement she had prepared and signed her name with slow, deliberate strokes.
Adrian, she thought, if you knew that in ten days, you would never be able to find me again, would you feel even a flicker of regret?
3
The next morning, Melissa went to the most exclusive private hospital in the city.
Adrian called her. “The driver said you went to the hospital. Are you not feeling well?”
“It’s nothing… just an irregular cycle. It’s an old problem.”
As she spoke, Melissa closed her eyes, tore the paper in her hand to shreds, and dropped it into the trash can.
As the pieces fluttered down, the red letters on one fragment stood out starkly.
[PREGNANCY CONFIRMED]
After hanging up, Melissa’s hand instinctively went to her abdomen. Memories flooded back.
When they were young and struggling, Adrian had acted as her agent, drinking with investors until he was vomiting blood, all to secure her a role with ten minutes of screen time.
Melissa had soaked in freezing water for three days straight on that set, her body aching with cold, refusing to give up the opportunity he had fought so hard for.
That night, in their tiny, cramped apartment, Adrian had shaken her awake, his face filled with panic.
“Melissa, you’re bleeding.”
She had faced down demanding investors and the fury of her own family, but she had never seen that look of terror on his face before.
She had believed that as long as they loved each other, they were invincible.
But the doctor had told them the baby had already started to form. It was their own neglect that had cost them their child. The tears had fallen instantly.
Adrian had held her, his voice choked with sobs. “I’m sorry, Melissa. It’s all my fault.”
“I promise it will never happen again.”
The second time she got pregnant, she had shared the good news with him, only to be met with two cold, emotionless words.
“Get rid of it.”
Perhaps sensing his own cruelty, he had added, “Melissa, you’re at the peak of your career right now. We can have one next time.”
But “next time” never came.
“Ms. Lindsay, are you sure you want to terminate?”
The doctor’s voice pulled Melissa back to the present. He held the test results, his brow furrowed. “The fetus is developing perfectly. But your body is very weak. If you go through with this, you may never be able to conceive again.”
Melissa’s heart trembled.
In her past life, when Adrian had brought her here, he had told her the fetus wasn’t healthy. The doctor had recommended the procedure. From that day until the day she died, she had never gotten pregnant again. The lack of a child had become the greatest regret of her life.
She lowered her gaze, her hand gently resting on her still-flat stomach.
She could feel it. A life was growing there.
Heaven had given her a second chance, and with it, this child.
This time, she wouldn’t let go. She wanted this child to see the world.
The snow outside had stopped. Sunlight filtered through the clouds, but it did nothing to warm the desolation in her eyes.
“Thank you, Doctor. I’m keeping it.”
America, she thought. There must be plenty of single mothers there.
The next day at the office, her agent, Carla, rushed over with a contract, her face beaming.
“Melissa, Adrian got us the endorsement for Olympia Sportswear!”
Olympia was a high-end athletic brand. Their commercials always involved intense physical activity.
Melissa’s face paled. She walked straight to the top floor, to Adrian’s office.
She stopped at the door.
Echo Towne was just coming out. “Melissa,” she cooed softly.
On her neck were a series of small, red marks.
“Melissa, what are you doing here?”
Adrian looked flustered. He buttoned his collar, his voice holding a hint of reproach.
Melissa’s breath caught. She walked past Echo Towne and into the office.
“Turn down the Olympia endorsement. I’m not taking any new jobs for a while.”
Adrian frowned. Melissa was a notorious workaholic. Even when she was “resting,” she only stopped making films, not other work.
A thought struck him. He stared at her intently. “Melissa, are you sure it’s just an irregular cycle?”
“Are you hiding something else from me?”
Melissa froze. She opened her mouth, but managed to keep her voice steady. “It’s just an irregular cycle.”
Adrian’s brow finally relaxed. He took her hand. “You should stop taking those birth control pills. Let your body recover.”
“If you get pregnant, we’ll have it. I’ll take good care of you both.”
Melissa nodded silently.
He had said the same thing in her past life. But when she had actually gotten pregnant, he had dragged her to the hospital without a second thought.
Adrian, do you have any idea? Last year alone, I took eleven bottles of birth control pills for you.
You were the one who made me kill our child. You don’t deserve to be a father.
4
Just then, there was a knock on the door.
Echo Towne’s agent came in with a folder, looking rushed. “Mr. Thorne, Echo Towne’s schedule needs your signature.”
Melissa spoke up. “You handle your work. I’m going home.”
Halfway out of the building, she realized her left earring was gone.
She retraced her steps, and as she neared the CEO’s office, she heard Adrian’s impatient voice from within.
“I told you, don’t come to me when Melissa is here.”
Echo Towne was sitting on his lap, purring. “Adrian, don’t be so mean to me. She’s the one who ruined our fun.”
She took his hand and placed it on her waist, her voice seductive. “I wore this especially for you. Don’t you want to see?”
Adrian hesitated for a fraction of a second, then pulled her closer, his mouth crushing hers.
The sounds of their passion seeped through the heavy wooden door.
The cold of the metal doorknob traveled up Melissa’s arm and into her heart.
Even though she was long past disappointed in him, hearing them together was still like a knife to the gut.
Her fingers turned white as she pulled out her phone and dialed his number.
The phone inside the office rang for half a second before it was silenced.
No hesitation.
A cold numbness spread through Melissa. She turned and walked away.
Two hours later, he called back. “I was in a meeting. What’s up?”
By then, Melissa had composed herself. Listening to his lie was just another bitter irony.
“Nothing. I dropped an earring, but I found it.”
Adrian, she thought, with an acting performance like that, you’re the one who deserves the award.
Two days later, at the five-star hotel for a family dinner.
Melissa reached for a piece of fish, but Adrian’s mother spun the lazy Susan away from her.
“After all this time, still haven’t produced a single child. Even a dog would have had a litter in ten years.”
Melissa’s silence only further enraged Adrian’s father. His disdain was palpable.
“Do you know what they used to call people like you in the old days? Performers! Toys to keep people entertained. I don’t know why anyone bothers with you.”
“Your priority now should be quitting your job and giving the Thorne family an heir!”
Melissa finally spoke. “I understand. I will retire.”
Not just retire, she thought. In five days, I’ll be gone, with my baby.
Adrian squeezed her hand under the table. “Dad, Mom, don’t give Melissa a hard time. We’ll handle the matter of children ourselves.”
As they were speaking, there was a knock on the door of the private room.
Echo Towne appeared, holding a bottle of expensive ginseng wine, a brilliant smile on her face.
“Mr. Thorne, I heard your voice and had to come say hello. This is for you.”
Though she was polite, after giving him the wine, she made no move to leave. She poured herself a cup of tea from the table.
“Mr. and Mrs. Thorne,” she said sweetly, “I feel such a connection to you both. If you don’t mind, I’d love to be your goddaughter!”
“My sister, Melissa, is so busy. Unlike me. All I want to do is spend time with you.”
Adrian’s eyes turned cold. He was about to speak when his father cut him off with a laugh.
“If only I had a daughter-in-law as thoughtful as you! Unlike some people, who can’t even read a room!”
His mother looked equally pleased and gestured to the empty seat beside her. “Such a good girl. Come, sit with us.”
In ten years of marriage, Adrian’s parents had never once let her sit beside them.
Adrian’s expression grew colder. He looked at Echo Towne. “This is a family dinner. You shouldn’t be sitting there.”
Tears instantly welled in Echo Towne’s eyes. She shot a resentful glare at Melissa, then stood and left.
Adrian’s expression shifted. He started to rise, but then he looked back at Melissa, who was still silently eating her food. He sat back down, his mind clearly elsewhere.
His mother’s passive-aggressive comments and his father’s accusations rained down on Melissa once more.
She finally stood up. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head home. You all enjoy.”
She left so quickly that Adrian didn’t have time to see the look on her face.
It wasn’t until she had locked herself in a bathroom stall that her strength gave out. She sank to the floor, and the tears she had been holding back finally broke free.
She dug her nails into her palms, telling herself: Don’t listen. Don’t look. Don’t care.
The doctor said emotional turmoil will affect the baby.
The Thornes don’t need me. The baby is my only family now.
Suddenly, a notification popped up on her phone.
Echo Towne had posted a photo from the dinner, and she had tagged Melissa.
The caption read: “Having dinner with my boyfriend’s family and ran into my big sister, Melissa! What a coincidence.”
Even though no faces were fully visible, Melissa instantly recognized the Thorne family.
5
A comment was immediately pushed to the top.
[TowneTowne, you and your boyfriend have to last forever!]
The nausea that had just subsided came rushing back.
Her eyes red, she forced herself to read through the comments, one by one.
Among the sea of well-wishes, an account named “For_Towne” had replied with two simple words: We will.
It was the same account Adrian used to send gifts to Echo Towne’s live stream.
The blood drained from Melissa’s face. She took several deep breaths before her trembling hand tapped on the profile.
It was blank.
He had set it to private.
Melissa stared at the screen for a long time before a bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped her lips.
A moment later, tears fell like broken pearls, rolling past the corners of her forced smile and splashing onto the floor.
Adrian called. “You said you weren’t feeling well. Are you better now?”
Melissa wiped her tears, forcing her voice to be steady. “I’m fine now.”
Adrian’s brow remained furrowed. “I’m on my way back…”
Just then, Echo Towne, who had just finished pouring tea for his parents, saw Melissa’s name on his phone screen. She bit her lip, then slipped off her shoe. Her foot, clad in black silk, deliberately brushed against Adrian’s thigh under the table.
Adrian’s breathing hitched. “Something came up at the office,” he said into the phone. “If you’re really not well, go to the hospital.” He hung up.
The city lights shone through the window, illuminating Melissa’s face.
The winter night was alive with a million lights, but none of them were for her.
On the way home, the driver noticed her pale face. “Mrs. Thorne, you look terribly unwell. Should we go to the hospital?”
Melissa gently shook her head.
The driver said no more, delivering her home in silence.
As she was about to open the car door, her wedding ring slipped from her finger and fell onto the floor mat.
Melissa froze. Have I lost that much weight in just a few days?
The driver offered to help her find it, but she refused.
She fumbled in the dark for a long time before she finally found it. But as she held the ring, she hesitated to put it back on.
After a long moment, she opened the glove compartment. “Things that don’t belong to me shouldn’t be taken by me.”
With a soft click, the compartment opened, revealing dozens of condoms.
In an instant, all the air was sucked out of the car.
She had never been with Adrian in the car.
Melissa’s chest heaved. Her hand recoiled as if from an electric shock. She scrambled to open the door.
But just as she stepped out, some strange impulse made her pause. She took a photo, then slammed the glove compartment shut and got out of the car.
That night, Melissa’s sleep was fitful.
A wave of nausea washed over her. She mumbled, reaching for the space beside her. “Adrian…”
The cold, empty sheets brought her instantly awake.
She threw on a robe and let out a bitter laugh.
The habits of the body are a terrifying thing.
Adrian didn’t come home until noon the next day.
The sun was melting the snow, making the air feel even colder.
As soon as he stepped into the living room, Melissa caught the scent of gardenia perfume—Echo Towne’s signature scent—clinging to him.
Melissa froze, looking at him. “Last night…”
Adrian met her gaze, and for a split second, his heart seemed to stop. He pulled her into an embrace. “What’s wrong?”
The scent of gardenia was overwhelming now. It was like a slow-acting poison, seeping into her organs.
Melissa stared at him, searching his face for any sign of a lie.
But his eyes were filled with nothing but soft, starlit affection.
It turned out that even a look like that could be a lie.
She stepped out of his embrace, changing the subject. “Nothing. I just didn’t sleep well.”
After dinner, Adrian took Melissa for a fitting for her red carpet gown.
The Golden Griffin Awards were approaching, and every celebrity was pulling out all the stops to make a statement.
Melissa looked at the gown sent over by Venus, the designer they had worked with for years, and felt a pang of nostalgia.
For ten years, she and Adrian had worn matching Venus ensembles. They were always a pair.
Now, this would be the last time.
Suddenly, Echo Towne’s triumphant voice cut through the air. “Melissa, do you like my gown that much?”
6
Melissa’s eyes widened in disbelief. She turned to Adrian.
In her past life, this was her gown!
She and Adrian were the official faces of Venus in their country. The gowns were always custom-made to their measurements.
Adrian frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Echo Towne looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “But you said I could choose any gown I wanted this time.”
“Besides,” she added, placing a hand on her stomach, “I’m pregnant. If I don’t wear it now, I won’t get another chance.”
The words struck Melissa like a bolt of lightning. She froze.
No wonder he had insisted she get an abortion in her past life. She had actually believed it was for her career.
It turned out he just didn’t want her child getting in the way of Echo Towne’s.
Adrian’s expression shifted. He turned to Melissa. “Melissa, just pick another one.”
In the past, Melissa would have fought for the dress.
But this time, it suddenly didn’t seem so important.
She knew Adrian would arrange for another, equally beautiful gown. But she had never wanted his guilt or his compensation. She had wanted his devotion. To be his one and only.
Melissa forced a smile. “Fine. A brand that can’t make up its mind isn’t worth my time anyway.”
She was talking about the brand, Venus, but Adrian’s heart felt strangely heavy.
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over her.
The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was Adrian’s panicked face.
When she woke up, she was in the hospital.
Adrian’s face was a complex mask of emotions. “…Melissa, you’re pregnant?”
It wasn’t a joyful exclamation. It was a question. An accusation.
Melissa didn’t know what hurt more, her swollen ankle from the fall, or her heart.
Her eyelashes trembled. A bitter smile touched her lips. “You think this baby came at a bad time, don’t you?”
Seeing his silence, the bitterness in her heart deepened. She closed her eyes, her voice flat, almost hopeless.
“Then let’s get rid of it.”
No arguments. No resistance.
The lesson from her past life was enough to keep her silent.
This child, she was destined to lose.
A flicker of guilt crossed Adrian’s face. He seemed to remember something, and let out a long sigh. “Keep it.”
Melissa’s eyes snapped open. The dead ashes in her soul were suddenly rekindled with a tiny spark of hope.
Adrian squeezed her hand. “What parent wouldn’t want to keep their child?”
A lump formed in Melissa’s throat. She nearly burst into tears.
What parent wouldn’t want their child? What couple would keep up an act for ten years?
But Adrian, why did it have to be you?
Adrian went to buy her dinner. Echo Towne came in, carrying a fruit basket. “Congratulations, Melissa!”
The words were celebratory, but there was no smile in her eyes. Instead, they glinted with a cold, venomous light.
She looked around, and seeing that Adrian was gone, her smile vanished.
“You know, don’t you? My boyfriend is Adrian.”
“Melissa, you’re so pathetic. Only a woman who can’t win her husband’s love would use a child to tie him down.”
Melissa looked her straight in the eye. “Are you talking about yourself, Echo Towne?”
“No matter how many people envy you on your live stream, you’ll never be anything more than a mistress who can’t be seen in public.”
Echo Towne was stunned. The few times she had seen Melissa, she had been so quiet and submissive, it had given Echo Towne the mistaken impression that she was a pushover.
She dug her nails into her palms, her face twisting with rage.
Just then, the sound of Adrian’s footsteps approached. “Melissa, I bought you some porridge. It’s easy to digest.”
A vicious glint appeared in Echo Towne’s eyes. She grabbed Melissa by the collar.
A powerful force pulled Melissa forward, and they both crashed to the floor.
Echo Towne’s venomous words wrapped around Melissa’s ear.
“Let’s see who he chooses. You, or me?”
7
A cry of alarm rang out. Adrian quickened his pace, bursting through the door.
Echo Towne was already sobbing, a tragic heroine. “I brought a fruit basket to see Melissa, but she started screaming at me, accusing me of seducing you and stealing her gown.”
“I didn’t…”
Before Melissa could finish, Echo Towne shrieked. “Blood! Adrian, my stomach hurts so much! The baby…”
Her cries immediately captured Adrian’s full attention. He shot a cold, dagger-like glare at Melissa, then scooped Echo Towne into his arms and rushed away.
Watching them go, the last vestiges of warmth left Melissa’s body.
A sharp, cramping pain seized her abdomen. A warm liquid trickled down her legs.
Melissa forced herself to her feet and called for a nurse. She was wheeled into the hallway, where she heard another nurse speaking in a troubled voice.
“Dr. Campbell is the only one on duty in Obstetrics right now, but the patient from the VIP room, Ms. Lindsay, is also showing signs of a miscarriage.”
Adrian froze. He was about to speak when Echo Towne looked up, her eyes brimming with pitiful tears.
“I’m fine. Let Melissa go first. An A-list star like her, taking out her temper on a small-time influencer like me… I’m used to it.”
Feeling the life of her own child slipping away, Melissa’s vision turned red. She grabbed the nurse’s arm, her voice a desperate plea.
“Please, save my baby!”
At her words, Adrian’s face twisted in disgust. “Her child isn’t important. Save Echo Towne’s.”
The nurses quickly wheeled Echo Towne into the operating room.
The hospital’s smell of antiseptic and blood filled Melissa’s lungs, stinging her nose.
By the time it was her turn, Dr. Campbell sighed deeply. “If you had come in ten minutes earlier, we could have saved it. It’s too late.”
An icy chill crept up Melissa’s spine, freezing her heart.
Her baby… was gone, just like that?
Her body trembling, Melissa placed a hand on her stomach. Tears she had held back for so long finally fell, tracing paths down her cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, my baby. I couldn’t protect you this time, either.”
As the anesthesia wore off, a bone-deep pain wracked her body, but it was nothing compared to the agony in her heart.
That was her flesh and blood, a part of her body.
She had never even had the chance to let her baby see the world.
In a daze, Melissa was wheeled out of the operating room. Adrian was still holding Echo Towne.
Echo Towne looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “Adrian, can you stay with me tonight?”
Her voice was choked with sobs, but the look she shot at Melissa was one of pure, triumphant provocation.
Adrian was silent for a moment, then his voice was gentle. “Okay.”
Seeing Melissa, he made no move to let Echo Towne go. A fire of anger burned in his eyes. “Apologize to Towne.”
The storm of emotions churning inside Melissa suddenly ceased.
With the death of her child, a part of her had died, too.
“I was wrong. You go take care of her. I’m going home.”
Adrian was stunned. He saw that the light in Melissa’s eyes had been extinguished, leaving nothing but dead, gray ash.
His throat worked, and he was about to say something, but a doctor called him over to pay the bill.
When he looked back, Melissa was gone.
On the way home, Melissa’s grief fermented in her heart, turning to a bitter hatred.
She hated her own weakness, her inability to let go, which had cost her another child.
If she had just left earlier, would her baby have been saved?
Suddenly, a message popped up on her phone.
It was from Echo Towne. She had sent a username and password. “Log in. You’ll see a surprise.”
With fingers as white as bone, Melissa logged into Adrian’s secret account: For_Towne.
The latest post was a photo of Echo Towne’s flat stomach.
The caption read: “Towne is pregnant. Today is the happiest day of my life.”
🌟 Continue the story here
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The first time Henry and I were truly bare before each other was five years into our marriage. It sent him into a volcanic rage.
“Annabel, will you die if you don’t try to seduce me for a single day? Have you no concept of what Platonic love is?”
I opened my eyes, realizing I had fallen asleep in the tub, exhausted.
Before I could explain, he had thrown his clothes back on and was dragging my naked, dripping body into the courtyard.
“If you love being naked so much, then enjoy it out here!”
He ignored my desperate pleas, blind to the biting winter cold. He even called for the entire household staff to come and watch.
He didn’t relent until I collapsed from a raging fever.
Later, burning up and delirious, I stumbled out of my room to find medicine. That’s when I heard it—the desperate, rhythmic sounds of passion coming from his bedroom.
Through the crack in the door, illuminated by the sliver of light, I saw the woman tangled with him in the sheets. It was his widowed sister-in-law, Helen.
So, this was his so-called Platonic love.
I staggered back to my room and dialed my mother-in-law’s number.
“Eleanor,” I said, my voice hollow. “That proposition of yours… about Henry helping Helen have a child to carry on his brother’s legacy… I agree to it. But I have one condition.”
There was a stunned silence on the other end, followed by a rush of excitement.
“Anna, my dear, are you serious? You’re willing to share Henry? You’re not just pulling an old woman’s leg in the middle of the night, are you? Name your condition, anything! I’ll agree to it!”
I stared at the ceiling, a silent tear tracing a path down my temple.
The first time Eleanor had made that absurd suggestion, I had been so furious I’d shattered my teacup. She wanted me to give up my husband just to keep Helen, her precious widowed daughter-in-law, tied to the family. How could I ever agree?
But now… they were already betraying me behind my back. What good was my refusal?
The man who swore he loved me, who wanted to pursue a higher, spiritual love with me, was already tainted. Filthy.
The bitter irony was that when he’d paraded my naked body in the courtyard, he had blamed me for soiling his perfect, idealized love.
Everyone in our circle knew us as the model couple. Even I had believed that our love, even without physical intimacy, would be eternally fresh.
But that beautiful fantasy had just been shattered by the rising and falling moans from the room next door.
I let out a humorless laugh. “I’m not pulling your leg. It’s real. I just need Henry to sign a document.”
Eleanor’s voice became shrill with glee. “Wonderful, wonderful! I knew you were a sensible girl, Anna! I’ll talk to Henry first thing in the morning. And I promise you, dear, this is just to help Helen get pregnant. You and Henry will still be the model couple everyone envies!”
After hanging up, I curled into a tight ball. The heating was on, and I was wrapped in a thick duvet, but my body wouldn’t stop shaking. The sounds from the next room continued until dawn, each gasp a knife twisting in my heart.
Five years of marriage. Five years of Platonic love. It was all just a joke.
I first met Henry in the university library. He was sitting by the window, the afternoon sun framing him in gold. He was reading Plato’s Republic, and the focused intensity of his profile made my heart stop.
“You like Plato, too?” I had asked.
When he looked up at me, his eyes were startlingly bright.
I didn’t know then that this simple question would become the shackle of my five-year marriage.
Before we were married, Henry treated me with the utmost respect. I thought it was because he loved me so deeply.
After the wedding, he refused to share a bed with me. Seeing my confusion, he cupped my face, his gaze tender. “Anna, true love transcends the physical. We must pursue a higher, more noble spiritual connection.”
I loved him, so I believed him.
I even felt a sense of pride. Our love was so pure, untouched by base desire. Every time my own feelings overwhelmed me and I tried to get closer, he would gently push me away, murmuring, “Don’t defile our love.”
Looking back now, the clues I ignored were so obvious. The flash of heat in his eyes when he looked at Helen. The way he would meticulously dress up whenever she visited. The times I stumbled upon them alone, and the guilty, hasty distance they would put between themselves…
My pillow was soaked with tears. My heart was completely hollow.
I stayed up all night drafting a divorce agreement before finally falling into a restless sleep.
The next morning, I was woken by a soft voice.
Henry stood by my bed, wearing an apron and holding a plate of my favorite strawberry pancakes.
“Morning, darling. I’ve made you a special breakfast. Time to wake up and enjoy.”
He leaned in to kiss my forehead, but I flinched away.
He froze for a second, then his smile became even more gentle, as if he wasn’t the same man who had humiliated me in the snow the night before.
“What’s wrong? Didn’t sleep well?”
He reached out to touch my face, and again, I avoided his hand.
On his neck, a series of angry red marks burned my eyes.
Noticing my stare, he scratched his neck awkwardly. “I don’t know where these mosquitoes came from last night. How did you sleep?”
I didn’t answer.
Outside the door, a few of the staff exchanged glances, their eyes filled with a mixture of pity and amusement.
I walked straight to the bathroom, but I collided with Helen right at the doorway.
“Morning, Anna,” she chirped. “Don’t mind me, just popping over for breakfast.”
She fiddled with the collar of her silk robe, deliberately exposing more of her skin, which was peppered with the same damning marks.
“Strange, isn’t it? There shouldn’t be any mosquitoes this time of year.”
“Henry and I both got bit. How come you didn’t?”
She glanced pointedly at my unblemished neck, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging so deep into my palms that I couldn’t feel the pain.
“Move.”
Helen chuckled and stepped aside. As I passed, she whispered, “You must have heard how passionate he was with me last night. A pity a woman like you will never get to taste something so good…”
It all made sense now. Henry always locked his bedroom door like he was guarding a fortress. Last night, Helen must have deliberately left it ajar so I would discover the truth.
The mockery and triumph in her eyes were the last straw. My self-control snapped. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face, hard.
Helen stumbled back, clutching her cheek, her eyes instantly filling with tears.
“Anna, if you didn’t want me here, you could have just said so. I would have left. Why did you have to hit me…?”
She turned and made a show of running away, right into the arms of a furious Henry.
He immediately cupped her face, examining the red mark with undisguised concern. When he turned back to me, his eyes were blazing with fury.
“Annabel! What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you hit my sister-in-law? How dare you?”
She provoked me to my face, and I’m not supposed to hit her?
Before I could speak, she leaned weakly against him. “Henry, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have intruded on your private time. Anna has every right to be angry. Please, don’t blame her…”
Her words were like fuel on the fire. Henry’s glare was a physical force, flaying my heart.
“Apologize to her. Now.”
I looked him straight in the eye. “She deserved it.”
That sentence sent him over the edge.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and started dragging me towards the stairs.
I fought back, clawing at the banister, but he pried my fingers off one by one. The staff watched from a distance, whispering amongst themselves, but not one dared to intervene. My silk pajamas ripped in the struggle, exposing swaths of my skin. The humiliation of the previous night washed over me again, but Henry was blind to it.
“It seems you’re still bitter about last night,” he snarled. “But if you have a problem, you take it up with me. You don’t take it out on the innocent!”
“You will kneel here and reflect on what you’ve done! When you’ve figured it out, you will apologize! Otherwise, people will think the great Sinclair family can’t even tolerate a poor widow!”
With that, he shoved me out the door and into the snow-covered yard.
My knees slammed onto the hard, frozen ground. A biting cold shot through my thin pajamas.
“Henry, I did nothing wrong.”
I gritted my teeth, my body trembling uncontrollably, but I refused to lower my head.
Henry let out a cold laugh and ordered the housekeeper, “Gather everyone. I want them all to see how the lady of the house throws a tantrum!”
In less than five minutes, more than a dozen staff members were assembled on the veranda.
I knelt in the center of the snowy lawn, like a criminal at her own trial.
“I’ll say it again: direct your anger at me! If you’re so damn desperate for a man, I can hire you a hundred escorts to service you! But you do not lay a hand on my sister-in-law!”
His words were more shameful than being stripped bare for all to see.
This was the man I had loved for three years, been married to for five.
He could tolerate the thought of other men seeing me naked, even sleeping with other men, but he could not tolerate his precious Helen being wronged in the slightest.
Helen stood beside him, feigning concern. “Henry, let it go. Maybe Anna’s just in a bad mood…”
“A bad mood gives her the right to hit people?” Henry raised his voice for everyone to hear. “If she doesn’t apologize today, she can collapse out here for all I care!”
Snowflakes began to fall, quickly coating my hair and eyelashes in a layer of white frost. My fingers were numb, my lips trembling beyond my control.
Helen took the opportunity to crouch down, pretending to help me up. She whispered in my ear, “You know, Henry told me you’re not worth a single strand of my hair. He said the thought of touching you makes him sick. A woman like you might as well be dead.”
I snapped my head up and saw the venomous glee in her eyes.
All my pent-up fury exploded. I scooped up a handful of snow and threw it in her face.
Helen shrieked dramatically and fell to the ground.
Henry went berserk.
He ripped open my pajamas and shoved my face into the snow. “It seems you still don’t know how to admit when you’re wrong!”
He grabbed handfuls of snow and stuffed them down my collar. The icy shock made me scream. He ignored me, rubbing snow harshly against my face and neck until my skin burned with a raw, fiery pain.
“Apologize!”
I choked on a mouthful of snow, coughing so hard that tears streamed down my face, unable to form a single word.
Enraged, Henry stood up and commanded the housekeeper, “Set a timer for two hours. She is not to get up before then.”
With that, he took off his own overcoat and wrapped it gently around Helen. “Let’s go inside, my dear. We don’t want you to catch a cold.”
The sight of their retreating backs was a physical pain.
The staff whispered among themselves. Some snickered. Most just looked at me with pity.
The minutes ticked by. My consciousness began to fade. My knees were long past feeling, and my body pitched forward, collapsing into the snow.
“Ma’am!” someone cried out. “She’s fainted!”
Henry opened the door, his face a cold mask. He called out from a distance, “Have you learned your lesson?”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
The world went black. I finally gave in.
🌟 Continue the story here
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Three in the morning, and I was shivering in a police station.
The officer across from me tapped his pen on the desk.
“You’re a college student. So tell me again why you believe a food truck’s secret sauce is being made with… fluid from a corpse?”
I stared at the cold steel of the handcuffs, catching the lingering scent of decay trapped under my fingernails.
It was, without a doubt, the smell of death. The smell a human body weeps after it’s gone.
1
My family ran the oldest funeral home in the state since 1892.
Grandfather used to say corpses develop two extra mouths—one for decay to enter, one for stench to escape.
I grew up in the quiet halls of a funeral home, a childhood scented with formaldehyde and decomposing tissue. I’ve seen more of the dead than I have of the living. I grew up Even my last medical report noted it: Olfactory sensitivity, preternaturally acute.
So, when my roommate, Lucy, shoved a carton of loaded fries under my nose, drenched in their famous, pungent sauce, I threw up on the spot.
“Seriously, Mia?” she said, stabbing a sauce-laden fry and popping it into her mouth with a look of pure bliss. “This is from that viral spot in the food truck alley by campus. I waited two hours for this.”
I wiped my mouth, silent. The smell was indescribable.
It was like rotting fish gills scraped with a rusty scalpel. Identical to the drowning victim I’d prepared just last month.
2
To figure this out, I went with Lucy to the fries truck.
A long line snaked from the front of the truck. I muttered, “Is it really that good?”
Lucy was unfazed. “Told you. It’s an internet sensation.”
Well, I was already here.
I trudged to the back of the line, resigning myself to the wait. The owner worked fast, though, and we were at the front in just over an hour.
As we got closer, the putrid smell of the sauce hit me like a wave. My stomach clenched, and a sour taste rose in my throat.
Lucy, oblivious, grabbed my arm excitedly. “You have to try it this time.”
I didn’t refuse, just gave a weak nod.
3
Fighting back my nausea, I studied the stall.
It was a small, grimy food truck, its metal siding dented and dull. The owner was a middle-aged man with a perpetually simple, honest-looking smile. He worked with an expert rhythm, scooping golden fries into cartons and ladling on the thick, dark sauce, his movements almost unnaturally efficient.
I decided to probe. “Hey, what’s in this sauce? It’s so… pungent.”
The owner didn’t even look up, his hands a blur of mechanical motion. “Family secret. Passed down through generations.”
I watched his face, trying to read something, anything, in his expression. But he kept his head down, busily adding toppings over the sauce.
4
“Business is booming,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Ever think about hiring some help?”
A place this popular could easily afford another pair of hands.
This time, he glanced up at me. “I manage just fine on my own. Can’t afford to hire anyone.”
Lucy chimed in. “What about your wife? Or kids? Can’t they lend a hand?”
The owner’s smile tightened slightly as he handed Lucy her order.
“Here you go. Next!”
The conversation was over.
The person behind us was getting restless. “Hey, if you’re done, move it.”
Lucy mumbled an apology over her shoulder and pulled me away by my sleeve.
5
We found an empty bench nearby.
Lucy eagerly held a fry, dripping with sauce, to my lips. “Go on, try it. It’s best when it’s hot.”
I grimaced but leaned in, taking a careful sniff.
That familiar, unidentifiable stench instantly flooded my senses.
This was absolutely not a normal food smell. Fermented or aged sauces could be pungent, yes, but they smelled of yeast, chili, or soy—of things that were meant to be eaten.
But this… this was tainted with a faint but undeniable metallic foulness.
It was closer to what I smelled at work every day. The smell of a corpse.
6
I instinctively covered my nose. “Don’t eat that,” I said, my voice sharp.
Lucy just laughed, completely missing my tone. “Smells strong, tastes amazing. That’s the whole point.”
“You and your super-sniffer nose,” she teased. “You just can’t handle intense flavors.”
“No,” I said, pulling her closer. “It doesn’t smell strong. It smells like a corpse.”
“Like crap?!” Lucy exclaimed, a little too loudly.
Her voice, while not a shout, turned the heads of the people at the next table. The owner, who happened to be clearing a nearby trash can, shot us a cold, irritated look. “Watch your mouth, young lady.”
Lucy, realizing what she’d said, clapped a hand over her mouth, her wide eyes pleading with me for help.
I gave her a subtle shake of my head and whispered, “Let’s go. Back to the dorm. Now.”
7
I dragged Lucy away, grabbing the two half-eaten cartons as we left.
She clung to my arm, her voice a nervous whisper. “You were serious, weren’t you? About the… you know.”
Lucy knew my sense of smell was no joke. The possibility that she’d been eating something so vile was starting to sink in, and she was terrified.
“We’ll talk in the dorm,” I said, my voice low. It wasn’t the place for this conversation.
Even after we passed through the campus gates, I could feel a pair of hot, angry eyes burning into my back.
Back in our room, Lucy opened one of the cartons and started eating again.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, exasperated. “How can you still eat that?”
Most people, upon hearing the word “corpse,” would have thrown the food into the nearest biohazard bin.
8
Lucy shrugged, her nonchalance forced. “I thought about it. A little dirt never hurt anyone, right? So what if it smells like crap?”
“Besides,” she added, stabbing another fry, “look how many people eat it. It’s not just me.”
She popped it into her mouth, the dark sauce smearing the corner of her lips.
I recoiled, putting more distance between us.
“Did you mishear me?” I asked.
She chewed thoughtfully. “Didn’t you say it smelled like crap?”
I pressed my lips together, fighting for patience. “I said it smells like a corpse.”
Lucy’s chewing stopped. The food was stuck in her mouth, unable to be swallowed, unwilling to be spit out.
She thought for a moment, her words muffled. “Which word did you say?”
I answered calmly. “The kind with a ‘p’.”
9
This time, she lost it. She scrambled for the trash can and retched violently.
“Mia, are you serious? Or are you just messing with me?”
I looked at her with pity and shook my head. “I wish I were, Lucy. But it’s true.”
Her face went ashen. She stuck two fingers down her throat, trying to force out every last trace.
When she was finally done, her stomach empty, she looked up at me, her eyes red and tear-filled. “How… how can you be so sure?” she asked weakly.
I had never told anyone that my family worked with the dead. It’s a taboo subject for most people.
After a moment of silence, I decided to tell her a modified truth. “I have relatives who work at a morgue. The smell is exactly the same as the one in the holding rooms.”
Her face twisted in a mask of agony. Whether she fully believed me or not, the seed of doubt was enough.
“Oh god,” she wailed. “What about all the times I ate it before?”
I patted her shoulder, offering what little comfort I could. “Don’t worry. All that is long gone, flushed down the sewer.”
10
Even though I was certain something was deeply wrong with that truck, I had no actual proof to report. The business continued to be a massive hit.
Then, one day, as I was walking past the food truck alley, I saw a familiar figure in the line.
At first, I didn’t believe it. But when she turned, I saw her face clearly.
“Lucy?”
She jumped, spinning around to face me, her mouth smeared with the dark, distinctive sauce.
She looked down at the carton in her hand, then back at me, a deer caught in the headlights.
“Mia,” she stammered. “What are you doing here?”
A hot surge of anger went through me. I strode over, snatched the carton from her hands, tossed it into a nearby trash can, and dragged her back to the dorm.
“You promised you’d never eat that stuff again!”
11
Lucy’s eyes welled up with tears. “I’m sorry, Mia, but I can’t help it. Nothing else tastes right anymore.”
Tears streamed down her face, and her expression was one of genuine despair, not just guilt.
I’d heard stories of certain substances being addictive. Could this sauce have a similar effect?
This was bad.
I looked at her, my voice firm but concerned. “Okay. From now on, I’m watching you. You are absolutely forbidden from going near that place again.”
Lucy knew I was trying to help, so she reluctantly agreed.
But after that, her appetite plummeted. She started losing weight at an alarming rate, and it was the unhealthy kind of thin. Her skin was sallow, with dark, bruised-looking circles under her eyes, and her lips were perpetually pale. She walked like she was wading through water, utterly drained of energy.
12
Finally, after two weeks of this, Lucy broke.
“Please, Mia,” she sobbed, clutching my arm. “Just let me have some. Just one bite.”
I turned away, unable to look at her.
“No.”
Her state was a clear sign of addiction, and this was the withdrawal period. If she could just push through it, she could beat it. Giving in now would mean starting all over again.
I gently patted her back. “Just hold on a little longer, Lucy,” I said softly. “It’ll get better soon.”
Lucy knew I wouldn’t budge. She gave a weak, defeated nod, too exhausted to argue anymore.
13
A month later, it all fell apart.
It was 8:50 AM, and Lucy hadn’t gotten out of bed. We had a major lecture in ten minutes.
I knocked on the frame of her bunk bed. “Lucy? You still not up?”
She was on the top bunk, so I couldn’t see her clearly. I stood on my toes, but all I could make out was the back of her head. She was curled into a tight ball, completely unresponsive.
This was strange. Today was a core class for her major; she never missed it.
Was she sick?
A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I scrambled up the ladder.
14
I gently shook her shoulder.
Her brow was furrowed, her cheeks flushed an unnatural, feverish red, and her breath came out in hot puffs.
Oh no, I thought. She’s burning up.
I decided to get her to the campus clinic and pulled back her duvet.
The moment the blanket came off, I gasped.
Lucy’s neck and arms were covered in angry, pus-filled sores. They looked like they were about to burst. I didn’t dare touch her. My only option was to call for an ambulance.
As her roommate, I rode with her to the hospital.
In the ambulance, I overheard one of the paramedics mutter, “Not this university again.”
Just as I was about to ask what she meant, the other paramedic shot her a sharp look, silencing her.
15
The hospital was in chaos.
Apparently, a large number of students from our university had been admitted with the exact same symptoms.
The situation was so severe it had even drawn the attention of the police.
An officer glanced at Lucy, who was now lying in a hospital bed, and gestured for me to follow him into the hallway.
The corridor was a whirlwind of activity, doctors and nurses rushing back and forth.
“Has your roommate been acting strangely lately?” the officer asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Think carefully. Has she eaten anything unusual? Injected anything?”
I froze, looking at him in disbelief. They suspected Lucy was… a drug user?
16
“Impossible,” I said, my tone firm. “But she might have eaten something bad.”
The officer, who had looked bored and tired, suddenly straightened up.
“Oh? Eaten something bad?”
“Yes.”
I told him everything I knew about the fries truck and its secret sauce.
The officer’s hand, holding the pen, paused. “Do you have any proof?”
I fell silent. I didn’t. A smell, a subjective experience, wasn’t evidence.
“No.”
“Without proof, it’s just speculation. We can’t get a warrant based on that.”
Seeing that he wasn’t going to get any more useful information from me, the officer looked disappointed. “Alright, you can go for now. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.”
17
I glanced back at Lucy, an IV drip attached to her arm. I had no choice but to nod and leave.
Back at the dorm, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, a sense of unease gnawing at me. So many students from our school were in the hospital, yet it hadn’t affected the fries truck’s business one bit.
Over the next few days, I spent all my free time at the coffee shop across the street from the food truck, watching. I started to learn the owner’s routine.
Every morning at 7 AM, he would arrive in a silver cargo van and park in the small alley behind the truck. He’d unload several large, heavy sacks of ingredients and carry them inside. For the next two hours, he’d prep in the back. At 10 AM sharp, he’d open for business. He wouldn’t close up until around 11 PM, when he would start cleaning.
18
I watched for days but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Then, on the fifth night, I finally saw something.
The coffee shop was about to close, and I was leaving, feeling dejected, when I saw the owner acting strangely. He peeked his head out from the back of the truck, scanning the alley nervously.
When he was sure no one was around, he carried two large, dark bags to his van. The bags looked wet, glistening slickly in the moonlight.
A cold dread washed over me. The image was sickeningly familiar, reminding me of the body fluid that sometimes seeped from the bags at the funeral home.
He loaded the bags into his van and drove off.
This was my chance. I couldn’t let it slip away. I waited until the coast was clear and slipped into the unlocked food truck.
19
I cautiously pushed aside the curtain to the back kitchen area, and after confirming it was empty, I stepped inside.
Compared to the front counter, the kitchen was a sanitary nightmare. The floor was wet and sticky, and the damp walls were breeding grounds for black mold. A faucet dripped incessantly into a sink stained with the dark sauce.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
I looked around the small kitchen. Besides the filth, there was nothing obviously amiss.
But wait.
I tilted my head back and took a deep breath. There it was again—a faint but definite smell of rot.
I followed the scent, moving slowly through the cramped space. My eyes landed on the side of a large metal cabinet. There, almost perfectly flush with the wall, was a hidden door.
I gave it a gentle push, and it swung inward on a silent hinge.
A thick, suffocating stench rolled out.
I froze, gagging.
20
The room had an old-fashioned pull-string light.
I tugged the cord, and a dim, yellow bulb flickered to life. The small chamber was filled with twelve large industrial-grade plastic drums, each sealed with a sheet of oiled canvas.
I lifted the cover off the nearest vat. The smell of decay exploded outwards.
A murky, foul-smelling liquid filled the vat. Floating within were chunks of what looked like marinating meat and vegetables—the base for the sauce, I guessed.
But the stench… it was unbearable. My eyes stung, and I had to stand up and gasp for fresh air. Thankfully, my years of exposure to death had given me a high tolerance for such smells.
Once I had calmed myself, I took out my phone and turned on the camera. This was why I had risked coming in here—to get evidence.
21
I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and plunged my hand into the murky liquid.
Beneath the floating chunks of meat, my fingertips brushed against something else. Something soft.
I froze. The texture was disturbingly similar to human skin.
Just as I was about to pull the object out, I heard the sound of hurried footsteps from outside.
Panicked, I slammed the cover back on the vat and dove behind a stack of them in the far corner. The light was dim; if I stayed still, he might not see me.
The footsteps grew closer. My palms slicked with nervous sweat.
A man’s heavy, ragged breathing filled the small room. He walked around the vats, seemingly checking that everything was in order, before stepping back out.
He seemed to be looking for something.
22
Time crawled by. My legs started to go numb.
The man still hadn’t left.
Just as I was about to cramp up, a shrill ringtone cut through the silence. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but after a short, sharp conversation, the man left in a hurry.
I let out a silent breath of relief. I fumbled in the darkness, searching for the pull-string for the light.
Suddenly, a puff of warm breath hit my arm.
My body went rigid. For a split second, my brain refused to process it. It had to be my imagination.
I yanked the cord. The room was flooded with light.
“What are you looking for?” a hoarse voice rasped from right behind me.
23
The owner stood in the doorway, a heavy iron ladle in his hand, his face a grim mask.
My eyes widened, and my scalp prickled as if struck by lightning.
“I… I was…”
The words died in my throat. I couldn’t exactly say I was looking for a dead body, could I?
He started walking towards me. I threw caution to the wind and charged, trying to shove past him.
It was a foolish miscalculation.
Years of manual labor had made him strong. He tackled me with surprising speed, sending me crashing to the floor. I was no match for him.
After a brief, desperate struggle, my energy was gone. I lay pinned beneath him, his weight crushing the air from my lungs.
He clamped my hands above my head, his voice a low growl. “What were you looking for?”
24
His grip was like iron; I couldn’t move an inch.
Then, the piercing wail of sirens cut through the night. The police burst through the door, and his grip on me finally loosened.
Several officers swarmed into the small space. The first one helped me to my feet.
Before I could even explain, the owner’s demeanor flipped. He became the victim.
“Officer, thank god you’re here! This girl, she broke in and was tampering with my marinade!”
He pointed at my phone. “She was filming it, too! These kids today… they’ll do anything for clicks…”
The sudden switch was so jarring it left me speechless.
“I didn’t,” I managed, my voice weak.
“Then what were you doing here?” the lead officer asked, his question hitting the nail on the head. I stammered, unable to come up with a coherent answer.
25
Just as they were about to lead me away, I took a desperate gamble.
I grabbed the officer’s sleeve and pointed at the vats.
“There’s a body in there.”
The officer’s eyes widened. He waved a hand at his team. “Search them!”
The team moved quickly, ripping the covers off the vats. The stench that filled the room became so thick it was hard to breathe.
After a few minutes, one of them reported, “Sir, besides the marinade base, we’ve found some chunks of meat.”
My heart hammered in my chest. I looked at the owner, who stood with his head bowed, silent.
“It has to be human remains!” I cried.
26
The meat was laid out on a plastic sheet. Twelve pieces in total, one from each vat.
The lead officer, a detective, crouched down to examine them. After a moment, he shook his head in disappointment. “These aren’t human.”
He was right. I could see it now, too. The texture and fiber were wrong.
The owner feigned outrage. “Officers, if I were really hiding a body, would I have called the police myself?” he whined, conveniently forgetting that I had been the one to trigger his security alarm.
“That’s just pork! It’s part of my family’s secret recipe! How am I supposed to do business after this?”
“And you,” he snarled, pointing at me, “why do you keep saying there’s a body? You’ve ruined this entire batch of marinade! You’re going to pay for this!”
The detective sighed, clearly overwhelmed by the situation. He pointed at me. “Cuff her. Take her in.”
All the fight went out of me. I let them lead me away without another word.
27
Once we were in the patrol car, the detective slowly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
He took a long drag, his eyes fixed on the glowing sign of the food truck.
“How did you know there was a body in there?”
I told him the truth. “I smelled it. My family is in the death care business. I’ve been around that smell my whole life.”
The detective glanced at me, a flicker of surprise and then approval in his eyes. “You’ve got a good nose, kid.”
I looked at him, confused. “You… you’re not mad at me?”
He shook his head. “There was definitely the stench of a corpse in there.”
“You smelled it too?” I gasped.
He looked at the cigarette between his fingers, now burned down to a short stub. He took one last drag and flicked it onto the asphalt.
“I’ve worked enough cases and seen enough bodies to know the smell of death. It was thick in there.”
“Then why didn’t you keep searching?” I asked.
“No probable cause. We can’t just tear a place apart unless we know where the body is hidden.”
His words sent my mind racing. The vats reeked of decay, but there was no body. And that pork… was it really a secret ingredient, or was it meant to hide something else?
28
At the station, the detective handed me over to a young officer for processing.
The young officer, looking tired and overworked, slid a form across the desk. “Fill this out. Personal information.”
Then he went back to his own chaotic paperwork. The station was buzzing with activity, even in the middle of the night. Drunks, domestic disputes, fights—it was a cross-section of the city’s misery.
About fifteen minutes later, the young officer slammed a missing person flyer down on his desk in frustration. “God, I’m so sick of this,” he muttered to a colleague. “It never ends.”
The sudden noise made me look up. The photo on the flyer was blurry, showing a thin woman in a bright magenta sweater, a little girl of about seven or eight standing beside her.
29
The officer tapped the desk. “What are you looking at? You done?”
I averted my gaze and handed him the completed form.
He glanced at it, confirmed the details, and began the official questioning.
“You’re a college student. So tell me again why you believe a food truck’s secret sauce is being made with… fluid from a corpse?”
I stared at the cold steel of the handcuffs, catching the lingering scent of decay trapped under my fingernails.
It was, without a doubt, the smell of death. The smell a human body weeps after it’s gone.
The officer saw my silence and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He stood up and dialed the number I had written down for my emergency contact.
After a brief, clipped explanation of the situation, he hung up.
“Your family is on their way to pick you up.”
30
Seeing my dazed expression, he sat down across from me, his tone softening into a lecture. “Look, you’re a student, so we’re not going to press charges this time. But you will have to compensate the business owner for the damages.”
A jolt went through me. I came back to myself. “I understand,” I whispered.
My parents lived in a distant suburb, about an hour and a half away. But with no traffic at this hour, they made it to the station in just under sixty minutes.
They burst in, not even bothering to close the car door behind them. They fussed over me, checking me from head to toe, and only relaxed when they were sure I was unharmed.
My mother pulled me over to the officer. “Officer, what on earth has my daughter done?”
The young officer, seeing I was just a kid, tried to downplay the severity of it.
“Your daughter was found trespassing in a private business… luckily, no serious harm was done, but you’ll need to cover the owner’s losses.”
“Here,” he said, handing my dad a slip of paper with a phone number on it. “This is the owner’s contact information. You can arrange the compensation with him directly.”
My parents shot me a look of disbelief before turning back to the officer with apologetic smiles. “We’re so sorry, officer. We’ll be sure to have a serious talk with her when we get home.”
31
The moment we were back in the car, my mother’s face hardened. “What really happened?” she demanded.
From her tone, I knew I had to tell them everything, or she’d never let it go.
I sighed and recounted the whole story, from the first smell to being caught in the back room.
“Mom, you know my nose,” I finished lamely. “How could I be wrong about something like that?”
My father, who had been listening intently, finally understood the gravity of the situation. “But to go in there alone? Mia, that was incredibly dangerous!”
My mother’s expression was grim. “Your father’s right. You need to stay out of this. This is not something a young girl should be involved in.”
I knew they were right. I had been reckless. I hung my head in shame.
“I’m sorry. I was impulsive.”
The tension in the car was thick. My father tried to smooth things over. “Well, as long as you’ve learned your lesson. Listen to your mother, honey. From now on, you stay away from that place.”
Seeing me nod obediently, my mother’s expression finally softened a little.
32
By now, it was long past the dorm’s curfew. There was no way I could get back in.
Fortunately, before the semester started, my parents had rented a small two-bedroom apartment for me near the campus. I used it occasionally when my work at the funeral home ran late and it was inconvenient to go back to the dorm.
After my mom made me promise I’d be okay on my own, she and my dad finally left.
I took a hot shower and collapsed into bed. I must have been more exhausted than I realized, because I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
I didn’t wake up until noon the next day. Luckily, I had no morning classes. After getting ready, I headed out to go back to campus.
As I was walking down the stairs of my apartment building, I nearly collided with a familiar figure.
The fries truck owner.
He was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. We both froze.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air thick with awkward silence.
What a small world.
Who would have thought that the man I suspected of murder lived in the same building as me?
33
I lowered my head and tried to walk past him without a word.
After the lecture from my parents, I had decided to drop the whole thing.
“Thump!”
A loud crash and a cry of pain came from behind me.
I spun around.
The owner was sprawled on the landing of the stairs, clutching his ankle and groaning in pain.
Did he fall?
I looked around. The stairwell was empty. With a sigh, I went back and helped him up.
“Thanks,” he muttered, leaning his full weight on me. I had to brace myself to keep from toppling over.
34
The moment his left foot touched the ground, his face contorted in pain.
Looks like a sprained ankle.
“Do you need me to help you get back to your apartment?”
I couldn’t just leave him here. It felt wrong.
He gritted his teeth and nodded. “If you don’t mind.”
I helped him hobble up one flight of stairs to the fourth floor. He stopped in front of his door.
I glanced at the apartment number: 402.
Huh? 402?
My apartment was 302. The owner lived directly above me?
What a strange coincidence.
I didn’t mention it, though. The less he knew, the better. And really, there was no reason to.
🌟 Continue the story here
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After breaking up with Jack Croft, I found out I was three months pregnant.
I raised our little Rosie on my own for five years.
But working three jobs took its toll, and I died suddenly from a stroke.
I floated in the air.
And then I saw him.
Jack, now a famous actor, was knocking on my front door.
01
It took a long time for the door to open.
“Who are you?”
It was my daughter, Rosie, who answered. She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the lock. Her eyes were wary as she looked up at my ex-boyfriend, her own father.
Seeing it wasn’t me, Rosie immediately tried to shut the door.
Jack held it open, his brow furrowed. “Where’s Sienna?”
Rosie thought for a moment, then looked up at him, her face breaking into a bright smile. “You’re looking for my mommy? She’s not home. She’s at work.”
Jack’s expression soured. “Where’s your dad?” he asked.
It’s you! Rosie’s father is you! I cried out from my place in the air, but he couldn’t hear me.
Rosie thought for a moment. “My daddy is far away making lots of money. Mommy says he’ll come get us when he’s made enough.”
Jack’s frown deepened. Then he let out a self-deprecating laugh.
He muttered to himself, “Heh, I must be crazy. To actually think you would wait for me.”
With that, he turned to leave.
But he paused. “What’s your name?”
“Rosie.”
“Mommy says I’m her little treasure, so my name is Rosie,” she said proudly.
Jack’s gaze searched her face, as if looking for some kind of proof. But in the end, he said nothing more. He got into his long, black limousine.
I watched the car drive away, screaming, Don’t go, Jack! If you leave, what will happen to our Rosie? She’s only five years old! How will she survive on her own?
I whispered to my daughter, who was blinking at the dust kicked up by the departing car. Rosie, darling, chase after your daddy. Mommy’s gone now. He’s the only one who can take care of you.
But Rosie couldn’t hear me either.
“What a strange man,” she said, and closed the door.
In that moment, I wanted to slap myself. Why didn’t I tell her who her father was sooner? Why didn’t I ever show her a picture of him?
This was all my fault.
It didn’t matter that I was dead. But my daughter… what would become of my daughter?
02
Rosie sat with her little legs dangling, waiting for me to come home.
The last rays of sunset faded. The sky grew dark.
I should have been home by now. Rosie was afraid of the dark.
But I was already dead. My coworker had just received the notice from the hospital. I hadn’t made it. She needed to inform my family. But when she opened my phone, she found the “family” section of my contacts completely empty.
She did know, however, that I had a child.
So that evening, the phone at home rang.
Rosie toddled over to it on her short little legs.
“Hello?”
Her sweet, childish voice made my coworker’s eyes well up. She didn’t know how to tell a little girl that her mother was dead. That she was never coming back.
“Mommy?” Rosie’s voice was filled with excitement. “Are you working late again? It’s okay, I’m fine. I’m not hungry at all. I just ate the bread you bought.” She patted her round little tummy.
“Rosie… your mommy… she just passed away.”
Rosie asked, confused, “Where is ‘passed away’? It’s okay, I’m sure Mommy will take me with her.”
Once, because of a work assignment, I had to go to the next state for a business trip. I didn’t feel safe leaving Rosie at home alone, so I took her with me. It was her first time on a long journey. She was thrilled on the train, pointing excitedly at the scenery outside the window.
So now, Rosie just thought I had gone on another trip.
My coworker sighed, not knowing what else to say. She hung up the phone. In the end, she represented my company and had my body sent for cremation.
All that was left of me was an urn of ashes.
03
That night was excruciatingly long. It was the first night I never came home.
Every so often, Rosie would run to the door to see if I was there. But the darkness would quickly frighten her back inside. She ran back and forth like this many times.
Finally, overcome with sleepiness, she fell asleep, clutching the teddy bear I had bought her.
Dawn broke. The rooster crowed.
She startled awake and rushed to the door again.
Seeing I still wasn’t back, a flicker of disappointment crossed her face. But she quickly comforted herself. “It’s okay. Mommy is just busy. She’ll be back soon.”
Having eaten nothing all night, her stomach rumbled. She had to make do with the bread I’d bought. She opened a carton of milk I had left. Imitating me, she tried to heat it up with some hot water.
“Mommy says I can’t drink cold milk, or I’ll get a tummy ache,” she said to herself, holding a pot full of water.
But her hands were so small. How could she possibly lift it?
I was frantic, trying to tell her not to do it, but it was useless. As Rosie stood on a stool, trying to place the pot on the stove, her strength gave out. Water spilled everywhere. The pot crashed onto her little foot, which immediately began to swell.
My heart ached as if it were being carved by a knife. But I was also grateful it wasn’t boiling water.
Rosie let out a soft sob. Then she held her foot and blew on it. “Mommy’s not here, so Rosie will blow on it herself. Then it won’t hurt.”
She wiped her tears and moved a stool to the front door, her eyes fixed on the entrance. “Rosie won’t cry. When Mommy comes back, she’ll praise me for being brave.”
Rosie was so good, so sensible. So sensible it broke my heart.
I wished, in that moment, that she would resent me, blame me for being such an irresponsible mother. But she just sat there, waiting so patiently for me to come home.
04
Two hours later, a car pulled up in front of our house.
My coworker knocked on the door. Rosie, thinking it was me, was ecstatic. She ran so fast that she tripped and fell. She scraped her leg on a sharp stone. But she only frowned for a moment before scrambling back up.
When she opened the door and saw it wasn’t me, she finally lost control. She burst into tears.
“Mommy! Mommy, why aren’t you back yet?” she wailed. “Rosie’s foot is swollen, and my leg hurts from falling, but I was so brave! But Mommy still isn’t back! Mommy doesn’t love Rosie anymore! Does Mommy not love me anymore?”
Rosie’s sobs were heart-wrenching. My own heart shattered into a million pieces.
…
My coworker rushed to comfort her. She found the first-aid kit, disinfected Rosie’s leg with alcohol, and put a bandage on it.
Once everything was settled, my coworker brought in my urn and the belongings from my office.
Rosie didn’t understand. But then she saw a photo of us at the amusement park, taken not long ago. In the picture, I was holding her, and we were both smiling happily.
She recognized me.
“Miss,” she asked, “are these all my mommy’s things? Then where did my mommy go?”
My coworker held back her tears and pointed to the urn. “Your mommy… she’s in here. If you miss her, you can hug it and talk to it.”
Rosie shook her head. “How could my mommy turn into an urn? She’s not a magical monkey. Only magical monkeys can transform like that. You’re lying.”
She hugged the photo to her chest. “This is my mommy.” Then she gave it a loud smooch and smiled sweetly.
My coworker sighed and placed the urn on a high shelf. She looked around. “Where’s your father? Are you all alone in this house?”
Rosie’s head drooped. “Mommy said Daddy went far away to make money. I’ve never seen my daddy.”
My coworker was in disbelief. “Don’t you have any other family? Grandparents?”
Rosie shook her head.
My coworker could no longer hold back her tears. She swept Rosie into her arms. “You poor child. You’re so little. How could your mother bear to leave you all alone?”
“Mommy would never leave me!” Rosie retorted. “Mommy loves me the most!”
My coworker placed a card in Rosie’s hand. “This is the compensation money from your mother’s company. There’s twenty thousand dollars on this card. The pin is six eights. Keep it safe. Don’t lose it.”
Rosie nodded seriously, clutching the card tightly. Because we were poor, I had taught her from a young age that money was a good thing and must be taken care of. Now, she remembered.
After some thought, my coworker called the local child services agency. It was a place for children without homes.
I was filled with gratitude. I bowed to my coworker from my place in the air. Thank you.
If she could get into an orphanage, at least my Rosie would survive.
05
When the people from child services came to pick Rosie up, she refused to go. She clung to the doorframe, wailing. “You’re kidnappers! Don’t take me, I’m not worth any money!”
The social workers didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The woman in charge crouched down and spoke to her gently. “I’m not a kidnapper. We’re taking you home, Rosie.”
Rosie frowned and told them very seriously, “This is my home. If you take me away, Mommy won’t see me when she comes back. If she can’t see me, she’ll be worried.”
I covered my mouth, tears streaming down my face.
The social workers exchanged a glance, their own eyes moist. They tried to coax her. “Rosie, sweetie, your mommy asked us to take you to this new place. She has to be away on business for a while and won’t be back, so she asked us to take care of you.”
“And there are lots of other children there, just like you. You won’t be lonely.”
Rosie listened. She blinked her big eyes at them. “Really?”
“Of course.”
Only then did she slowly let go.
But just before getting into the car, Rosie ran back into the house. She came out with the teddy bear I had bought her and the photograph, hugging them tightly.
The car started moving. It was Rosie’s first time going on a long trip with strangers. Her earlier bravado crumbled.
Fear and anxiety washed over her.
She finally broke down and cried. “Mommy, I’ll be a good girl. I’ll listen. Please come get me soon, okay?”
I followed the car, floating along. Wherever Rosie went, I would go.
But she couldn’t see me.
And I couldn’t touch her.
06
On her first day at the children’s home, Rosie was unusually quiet.
She just stared out the window. Every time someone passed by, she would widen her eyes, looking to see if it was me. When she realized it wasn’t, her expression would fall.
A few curious children came to talk to her. “Why are you in the orphanage?”
Rosie answered seriously, “My mommy has something to do, so she sent me here. But she’ll be back to get me soon.”
A little boy seemed to scoff at her naivety. He snatched the teddy bear from her hands. “Your mommy abandoned you. She’s not coming back for you. What’s this? I’m playing with it.”
Rosie, furious, charged at him and pushed him to the ground. “You’re lying! My mommy would never abandon me! That’s the teddy bear my mommy gave me, give it back!”
The boy, not one to back down, scrambled up and pushed Rosie to the ground. He was a year or two older and much stronger. He sat on top of her, pulling her hair and clothes. He tore the teddy bear, and cotton stuffing spilled out from its broken body.
“I’m not wrong! Your mommy abandoned you! All the kids here were abandoned by their parents!” he taunted. “It’s just a stupid toy, I don’t want it anyway.”
Rosie clutched the broken teddy bear, fighting back with all her might. “You’re a liar! I don’t believe you! Don’t touch my bear, my mommy gave it to me!”
The commotion brought a teacher running. She pulled them apart. After finding out what happened, she scolded the little boy harshly. But he didn’t think he was wrong.
“I wasn’t wrong! Her mommy isn’t coming back for her! She didn’t believe me and she pushed me!” He made a face at her.
Rosie stood there, her hair a mess, her clothes stained with dirt. She looked like a defeated little hen. But she still insisted, “My mommy would never abandon me. You’re trying to trick me.”
After that, Rosie became even more withdrawn. The other children stopped talking to her. They would whisper among themselves that she had been abandoned by her mother but refused to admit it.
Whenever Rosie heard them, she would quickly walk away. But I saw her. I saw her go to a secluded spot, hug her broken teddy bear, and cry silently.
“Mommy, is it true what they said? Did you really abandon me?”
I gently wrapped my arms around her, just as I used to when I held her to sleep. Rosie, Mommy is always here. Mommy would never abandon you. Mommy will always be by your side.
07
A month passed.
Rosie ate very little. She slept very little. Her once-round cheeks were now gaunt and thin. The sparkle in her eyes was gone.
She no longer looked out the window or at the door. She no longer pestered the teachers, asking, “Is my mommy coming to get me today?”
But today, the children’s home was unusually bustling. The director mentioned that Jack Croft was coming to visit the children. I learned that after he became a big star, he had donated a lot of money to the home and came to visit every year.
I knew why. We had both come from this very home.
I was overjoyed. If he saw Rosie, he would surely realize I had passed away. And then, he wouldn’t be so heartless as to leave my Rosie in an orphanage, would he? After all, we were once so in love.
A large crowd gathered at the entrance of the home, waiting for the arrival of the philanthropist, Jack. Even the children swarmed to the gate.
Only Rosie remained, watching the commotion with indifference.
Rosie, go to the gate! Your daddy is coming! If he sees you, maybe you won’t have to stay here anymore. You can have a good life, and Mommy can finally rest in peace.
She couldn’t hear me.
But she picked up a pen and, in her childish, crooked handwriting, wrote:
Rosie is going to find Mommy. Don’t look for me.
She placed the note next to her pillow. Then she set off, walking toward the gate.
But she didn’t join the crowd. She ran in the opposite direction.
I was shocked and panicked. Rosie, what are you doing? Where are you going?
She ran faster and faster. I thought she had accepted the orphanage, accepted the reality that I would never come back for her. It wasn’t until I saw the note that I understood.
She was leaving the children’s home.
If I wasn’t coming for her, she would find me herself.
…
A Maybach pulled up at the gate. Jack’s agent, Alex, escorted him out of the car. The crowd surged forward.
No one noticed Rosie slipping away.
So close. They were so close.
If only Jack had seen her.
Now she was out there, all alone. How would she survive?
🌟 Continue the story here
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I got into a heated argument with an enemy player in an online game.
That very day, a popular starlet took to social media and sicced her fanbase on me.
【Who the hell do you think you are, flaming our precious Amanda?】
【Apologize right now if you don’t want to be doxxed.】
I glanced at the 99+ abusive messages flooding my inbox and sneered.
I had my assistant ban her gaming and social media accounts on the spot.
Who doesn’t have a secret identity these days?
1
I was in a ranked promotion match when an enemy support player, username “Amanda,” typed in the all-chat:
【Anyone want to flatter me a little?】
No one on my team responded.
She typed again: 【OK, fine. Kai, wipe them out.】
And for the rest of the game, our team was slaughtered by the enemy assassin, Kai, ending with a score of 0-20.
After the match, I instinctively checked Kai’s profile. His avatar was adorned with a national top-player badge. Outskilled. I sighed. At least I had a loss-protection card. I queued up for another game.
Wouldn’t you know it, I was matched with Kai and Amanda again.
Amanda seemed to recognize me. As soon as the match started, she specifically targeted me:
【You were the Seraphina from last game, weren’t you? How about it? Flatter me a little this time, and I’ll have Kai kill you a few less times.】
I responded with a string of ellipses. I just assumed she was some young girl.
But my silence, she took as a challenge.
For the entire match, with Amanda perched on his shoulder, Kai hunted me down relentlessly. No matter where I went, the moment I appeared on the map, my screen went black. She even went out of her way to taunt me over my dead body.
【Seraphina, just say something nice. We’ll let you go.】
【Still not begging for mercy?】
【Don’t push the towers yet. Let’s dive her a few more times.】
I held it in for as long as I could, but staring at my 0-16 score, I finally typed:
【Can you just end it? I have another game to get to.】
Amanda immediately shot back:
【Ooh, someone’s triggered.】
【Nope. I’m going to keep killing you. What are you going to do about it?】
【…】
2
Finally, my own teammates couldn’t stand it anymore and voted to surrender.
I was incredibly frustrated and was about to quit the game when a party invitation popped up. Before I could even see who it was from, I instinctively accepted. The moment I entered the lobby, the game started.
It was a 5v5 custom match.
I randomly picked a mage, and as the loading screen appeared, I saw their names: “Amanda” and her nationally-ranked Kai.
Me: 【…】
You have got to be kidding me.
Sure enough, the moment the game began, they ganged up on me, slaughtering me in every corner of the map. Every time I died, Amanda would type out a taunt.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I went AFK and started typing.
【What’s there to brag about when you’re just getting carried? You don’t actually think you have any skill, do you?】
【You even have to bring your little boyfriend into a custom lobby. Why don’t you 1v1 me if you have the guts?】
【We’re both girls, what’s with the cattiness? Flatter you? Are you even eighteen yet, little girl?】
After my rant, I voted to surrender and closed the game without a second thought.
I thought that would be the end of it.
But the next day, my roommate sent me a video. 【Ivy, is this your game account? I remember your name is something like this?】
A sense of dread washed over me. I frowned and opened the video.
It was a screen recording of a livestream. A pretty, innocent-looking girl was sitting in front of her computer, holding her phone, a pitiful expression on her face.
“I was just joking with her, why did she get so angry? Even if I went a little too far, she didn’t have to curse me out so horribly, did she?”
As she spoke, she aimed the camera at her phone screen, which clearly showed my in-game ID.
“She’s probably blocked me already. Could you all help me apologize to her? I didn’t mean it, it was all for the stream.”
The video went viral almost instantly, racking up tens of millions of views. The comments section exploded:
【Is this lady a sore loser or what? It’s a meme, why is she so bent out of shape?】
【A woman who spews profanity like that can’t be a good person. Why should we apologize to her?】
【How dare she curse at our Amanda! She picked the wrong person to mess with!】
【Guys, her friends list is full now, I can’t add her in the game to flame her.】
【Don’t worry babes, I already found her social media accounts. Let’s go get her!】
3
I closed the video, my face impassive.
My roommate messaged again: 【Ivy, you really cursed out Amanda Rose?】
I frowned. 【Who’s Amanda Rose? The streamer?】
Roommate: 【Oh my god, you don’t even know who Amanda Rose is? She’s the second female lead in that super popular historical drama right now! The show hit a new ratings high yesterday, so she promised her fans she’d stream, and she brought the second male lead along to play with her. They were just trying to create some content, and then this happened. I just never thought the girl who cussed her out would be you. You’ve got some serious nerve.】
I was silent for a moment. 【So everyone thinks it’s my fault? Didn’t they even try to find out what really happened?】
【What does it matter? Amanda has over ten million fans across all her platforms. Besides, her whole brand is being this pure, innocent flower. Who would believe she was deliberately provoking you?】 My roommate’s tone was one of resignation. 【Ugh, you just have to take the L on this one.】
The implication was clear: if I just ignored it, it would eventually blow over.
But when I got back to my dorm after my morning classes and opened my laptop to do some homework, my notifications were exploding.
【Go die, you bully!】
【Who the hell do you think you are, flaming our Amanda?】
【You think everyone has to put up with your crap, bully?】
【Apologize to our Amanda publicly, or we’ll doxx you!】
A flood of abusive messages, like an overflowing dumpster, assaulted my eyes. I read a few, my frown deepening. Her fans weren’t just flaming me on social media; they were threatening to find my personal information.
This was seriously affecting my life.
So I opened my social media and posted:
【I will not be apologizing. Since Amanda Rose is a public figure, she should be even more mindful of her words and actions. She was the one who provoked me in the game first. After I quit, she pulled me into a custom lobby to humiliate me. My cursing her out was justified. If we’re talking about who’s at fault, her actions were far worse than mine. Furthermore, she guided her fans to cyberbully and personally attack me, which has caused me extreme distress. I hope she will clarify the situation and act with some integrity.】
4
I thought that by posting this, I could at least correct some of their misconceptions. I wasn’t hoping for an apology, just for the vicious attacks to stop.
But the comments below were a unified front of condemnation:
【Everyone knows Amanda was just creating content for her stream. You’re the one who can’t take a joke, and you have a filthy mouth. You nearly made our Amanda cry.】
【Exactly. Amanda is gentle, but we, her fans, are not to be messed with.】
【Why should we show integrity to a bully like you? We’re fighting fire with fire!】
【Less talk, more apologizing!】
And Amanda Rose, the person I tagged in my post, eventually responded with a reluctant-sounding post of her own:
【I’m so sorry this has caused you trouble. I had no idea my fans would go and bully you. But I don’t want to dwell on this anymore, let’s just pretend it never happened.】
My eyelid twitched violently.
Never happened?
So I was just supposed to take all that abuse for nothing?
I immediately replied:
【You don’t get to just say it never happened. I’m the one being cyberbullied and threatened with doxxing. They have seriously disrupted my life. Aren’t you going to do anything to stop them?】
Amanda replied back:
【But I didn’t say anything to them. They’re just worried I’ll be upset. Please don’t blame them.】
Seeing Amanda defend them so ardently, her fans went into a frenzy. In a single afternoon, they spammed my social media until it crashed. Someone even managed to find out which university I attended. They flooded our school’s online forum, publicly insulting and cursing me, demanding that I apologize to Amanda immediately.
5
An apology was out of the question. And Amanda had already blocked me on social media. Since they wouldn’t listen to reason, I had no choice but to go offline and ignore the slander.
But I never expected this.
During my evening study session, as I was getting settled in the classroom, two girls sat down in front of me and demanded aggressively, “Ivy Lee, are you really going to be so stubborn and not apologize to Amanda Rose?”
“It’s bad enough you’re spewing filth online, but now you’re dragging our school’s reputation through the mud.”
“No one at school knows it was you yet. You should apologize on social media right now, before we expose you.”
I calmly arranged my books, then looked up. “Have you not seen my explanation on social media?”
“So what? Amanda was live the whole time, we all saw it. Who’s going to believe you?”
“If you don’t believe me, then don’t bother me.” I sneered. “Be careful, or I’ll curse you out too.”
The two girls were speechless. They hadn’t expected me to be so tough. With dark expressions, they left, pulling out their phones. I guessed they were going to complain on the forum about how unreasonable I was.
The other students in the class who had been itching to talk to me saw how fierce I was and gave up.
Just when I thought I could finally have some peace, a basketball slammed onto my desk. My glass water bottle shattered instantly, spilling hot water all over my books and my arm. I yelped in pain.
I looked up angrily to see Mark Momoa striding towards me, his face a cold mask.
“Ivy Lee. Get on social media and apologize to Amanda right now.”
6
Mark was the captain of the school basketball team. Last semester, I had delivered water to him twice as a favor for my roommate. Because I was known as the school’s “ice queen,” and it was the first time I’d ever been seen giving a guy anything, a rumor started that I had a crush on him.
But when he heard the rumor, he had frowned and said, “Ivy Lee? No impression. Not interested.”
After I heard that, I never delivered water for my roommate again. But the rumor that I was a desperate fangirl, unrequited in my love, spread throughout the school.
I gritted my teeth against the stinging pain in my hand and asked coldly, “Are you insane?”
Mark sneered, his eyes filled with disgust. “Anyone who has my number on campus knows I’m a fan of Amanda Rose. You were probably just jealous that I like her, so you stalked her stream and then cursed her out.”
I was utterly stunned by his bizarre logic. “Mark, is there something wrong with your brain? I was unlucky enough to get matched with her twice, and you think I was deliberately stalking her? Besides, I don’t have your number. How would I know which celebrity you follow? And who you like is none of my damn business.”
Mark looked at me as if I were making excuses, and said impatiently, “You said it yourself, you got matched with her twice. If you weren’t deliberately queuing at the same time, how could that be a coincidence? And you don’t have my number because I didn’t want to give it to you, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t find other ways to stalk me.”
He took two steps closer, his voice aggressive. “If Amanda hadn’t been wronged, you would never have had the chance to even speak to me in your life. I’m not wasting my breath on you. Apologize to her. Now.”
I scoffed. “You’re so concerned with right and wrong. So what about you smashing my bottle and burning my hand?”
Mark frowned, dismissive. “I can replace the bottle. I can pay for your medical expenses. As long as you apologize, we can settle this.”
“Is that so? Then you can start by replacing my bottle. It’s four hundred and fifty dollars.”
Mark glanced at the shards of glass on the floor and laughed. “You? Let’s not even talk about whether this cheap bottle is worth four-fifty. Even if it was, could you even afford a four-hundred-fifty-dollar bottle? I think you’re just broke and trying to extort me.”
7
I rolled my eyes and picked up a piece of the shattered glass that had the brand logo and a QR code on it.
“You can scan it to see if it’s authentic. After you’ve confirmed, find a personal shopper to buy me a new one. If you don’t know where to look, I can recommend someone.”
Seeing my certainty, Mark’s confident expression faltered for a second. A moment later, he changed the subject. “Ivy, you’re just trying to get my attention, aren’t you? This is such a pathetic move. If you insist on not apologizing to Amanda, don’t blame me for exposing your identity on the forum.”
I said, deadpan, “Go ahead. I’m not the one in the wrong. When your goddess personally comes out to clear my name, I’ll be holding you accountable.”
Mark glared at me and started to walk away in a huff.
“Wait.”
“What?” He thought I had given in, and shot me a disdainful look.
I stuffed the glass shard with the QR code into his jacket pocket. “You think you can just act tough and walk away? Not so fast. Don’t forget to replace my bottle. I’m going to the infirmary later, and I’ll give you the bill for my medical expenses tomorrow.”
Mark stared at me in disbelief, as if I were a madwoman. He seemed genuinely shocked that I was actually going to make him pay.
But I didn’t expect him to be so brainless. He actually went to the school forum and posted, outing me as the person who had cursed out Amanda Rose in the game.
Instantly, the forum was flooded with Amanda’s fans. They found my student ID photo and started photoshopping it into ugly memes and funeral portraits, plastering them all over the forum. The entire site was spammed with posts demanding “Ivy Lee apologize to Amanda Rose.”
The rumors became so rampant that the school administration had to call me in for a talk, urging me to resolve the matter quickly.
8
In the principal’s office, he spoke to me in a fatherly tone. “It’s just an apology. When you do something wrong, you have to take responsibility. Besides, cursing at people is a bad habit.”
My voice was cold. “I did curse at her, but there was a reason. I was not the one who was wrong first. And after suffering such a massive cyberbullying campaign, shouldn’t Amanda Rose and Mark Momoa be the ones apologizing to me first?”
The principal sighed, frustrated. “Even if you did nothing wrong, she’s a celebrity with tens of millions of fans. As the saying goes, a commoner can’t fight an official. You could have ten mouths and still not be able to argue your case. It’s better to just bow your head, put this to rest, and get some peace.”
I sneered. “So you’re saying that because she’s using public opinion and power to crush me, I have to submit?”
The principal shrugged. “There’s nothing to be done. You’re just one person. No one will listen to your side of the story.”
I rolled my eyes. “I will make Amanda Rose beg to clear my name.”
The principal clearly didn’t believe me. He rubbed his temples, looking stressed. “The negative attention on the forum is affecting the school. I’m going to have the administrators shut it down for a week. You have one week to resolve this. Otherwise, the school will have to take disciplinary action.”
I looked up. “Such as?”
“Such as ordering you to write a self-criticism essay, and posting a public notice about it on the school-wide forum.”
I pressed my lips together. A self-criticism essay and a public notice would mean that even if it wasn’t my fault, I would be forced to take the blame. I couldn’t swallow that.
So I said coldly, “If this matter is cleared up, I expect the school to require Mark Momoa to apologize to me.”
The principal nodded. “If it can be proven that you were the victim, then Mark’s actions will certainly warrant a public reprimand.”
With the principal’s affirmation, I said no more and left his office. I pulled out my phone and called my assistant, Alex.
“Alex, I need you to get me the contact information for an actress named Amanda Rose. I need to speak with her.”
Alex was puzzled. “She’s just a minor actress, Ms. Lee. There’s no need for you to contact her personally. We can just notify her agent if there’s an issue.”
I gritted my teeth and sneered. “Oh, it’s absolutely necessary.”
9
Alex wasn’t exaggerating.
My father, a permanent fixture on the top ten richest list, owned the largest entertainment company in the country, along with a vast network of connections and resources. A minor actress like Amanda Rose wouldn’t even qualify for an invitation to our family’s business galas.
The reason I chose to contact her myself, rather than have Alex handle it, was because if Alex intervened, she would most likely be blacklisted or never get work again. I didn’t want to see that happen unless it was absolutely necessary. Everyone has their struggles.
I ended the call and sighed, giving myself a thumbs-up. I really was a kind person.
But that afternoon, I ate my words.
Alex quickly got me Amanda’s number. I dialed, and a delicate female voice answered. “Hello? Who is this?”
I spoke calmly. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Ivy Lee. I was the Seraphina you were matched with during your livestream.”
“…”
A long silence on the other end. Then, a barrage of questions.
“This is my private number. How did you get it? Did you use some illegal means? Do you want me to call the police? What do you want? Isn’t this whole thing over? Why are you still harassing me?”
I was speechless for a few seconds, too tired to answer her idiotic questions. I just stated my demands.
“Who said it was over? You deliberately led your fans to cyberbully me. It was bad enough they were flaming me in the game and on social media, but now they’ve taken over my school’s forum and are seriously disrupting my life. You were the one who started it in the game. I demand that you clarify this matter, and you and your fans must apologize to me.”
After hearing me out, Amanda sneered. “Are you okay, lady? Apologize? I’m a public figure. Why should I apologize to some poor student? If you’re trying to ride my coattails, you can start your own livestream now. Maybe you’ll even get famous for being infamous.”
With that, she hung up on me.
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