Author: Momo Chan

My father, heartbroken by my decade-long unspoken crush, took matters into his own hands. He drugged his cross-age friend and deposited him in my bed. Waking up, the man, Dominic Hale, coldly agreed to marry me. But soon after our wedding, Dominic began frequent business trips abroad, each lasting three years. I gave birth to our daughter, Lily, alone, waiting for him to return. Three years later, I heard he was finally coming home. I abandoned an important business engagement, taking our daughter to the airport to meet him. Lily, brimming with excitement, begged him for a hug. He merely glanced at me, his voice flat. “I’m sorry, I have a phobia of germs.” From that day on, Lily and I washed our hands at least three times, and our home was kept impeccably spotless. Yet, he never came back. And he never once held our daughter. Until I saw a video clip. Someone asked him: “Dominic, what’s the happiest thing for you?” He replied casually, “Last week, I guess, abroad. After putting Daisy to bed, I pulled Chloe into the bathroom.” Amidst the sounds of laughter and teasing, my hands and feet turned to ice. Chloe was his ex-girlfriend, with whom he’d had a long, complicated history. Daisy was Chloe’s daughter. I’d heard he’d been living with them for the past three years abroad, and now I knew it was true. My heart shattered. I left the divorce papers, canceled our identities, and took Lily out of the country. 1 The nanny brought Lily home from kindergarten, her eyes swollen from crying. “Mommy, does Lily not have a Daddy…?” She hiccupped between sobs, utterly heartbroken. “Daddy promised he’d come to my parent-teacher conference, but when he got there, he said he was Daisy Miller’s daddy.” Her voice broke. “Mommy, everyone says Lily is a child without a Daddy, boohoohoo…” A sharp pain shot through my chest. My eyes burned as I pulled my daughter into my arms. I wanted to say something comforting, but Dominic’s cold indifference choked the words in my throat. I regretted everything. I had waited three years, believing he had finally come to his senses, willing to return home and reunite with Lily and me. But no, it was merely because Chloe had expressed a desire to come back to the States. He had then, without a second thought, booked tickets, arranged everything, even transferring his ex-girlfriend’s daughter to the best kindergarten. The day we went to the airport to greet him, Lily wore her prettiest dress, asking me nervously, “Mommy, will Daddy like Lily?” I nodded. “Lily is Daddy’s only daughter, of course, he will.” But when we arrived at the airport, full of joyous anticipation, we saw Dominic, holding Chloe’s hand, a three-year-old girl in his arms. Lily and I froze. Dominic barely glanced at me. “Excuse me, I need to get Chloe and Daisy settled first. You two go home.” He didn’t even spare Lily a look, yet his gaze upon Daisy was filled with tender affection. The memory made me close my eyes in despair. “I’m so sorry, Lily. It’s all Mommy’s fault. Next time, Mommy will go to your parent-teacher conference.” After washing Lily’s face and finally coaxing her to sleep, her tiny brows remained tightly furrowed. “Daddy, hug me…” My heart felt as if it were being pricked by needles. If it weren’t for what happened three years ago, Lily might not have to suffer like this. Three years ago, my father, feeling sorry for my decade-long secret crush, simply drugged Dominic Hale and placed him in my bed. I was utterly shocked. “Dad, are you trying to ruin my life?” My father sighed. “I saw it, darling. You like Dominic, and that boy has a soft spot for you too, he just won’t admit it. That night, when he was drunk, I even heard him calling your name. I thought you two were dragging your feet, so I decided to push things along.” I resisted with all my might, but the next second, a feverish heat consumed me. My father chuckled. “I put something in your drink too. Cherish this night.” Then, he locked the door from the outside. After that night, Dominic sobered up and said coldly, “Yvonne, I will take responsibility and marry you.” I thought a happy life was about to begin. But at a gathering soon after, I accidentally overheard his conversation with a friend. “Dominic, you’re not seeing the good in this. Yvonne is beautiful, rich, and she loves you. You should just settle down and be happy.” Dominic took a drag from his cigarette and scoffed. “Initially, I did have some feelings for her, but I never expected her to be so… opportunistic. The thought of her drugging me that night, aggressively throwing herself at me, just makes me… sick.” Before I could even figure out how to properly explain, he obtained a visa and left the country two weeks later. But that one night had given me a child. I gave birth to our daughter, Lily, alone, eagerly waiting day and night for him to return. What I waited for, however, was his increasingly entangled relationship with Chloe and her daughter. In the empty, silent mansion, I pulled out my phone, about to call Dominic and ask when he was coming back. Suddenly, the door opened, and Dominic walked in, his expression detached. He glanced at the sleeping Lily and said casually, “Daisy is coming over tomorrow to play. You and Lily should go out.” Meeting my bewildered gaze, his lips curled into a faint smile. “Daisy is quite possessive; she doesn’t like other little girls calling me Daddy.” The anger that had been simmering within me finally boiled over. I laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound. “Dominic Hale, do you even remember who your biological daughter is anymore?” My voice cracked. “Do you know what happened to Lily at kindergarten today—” Dominic frowned slightly, cutting me off. “Yvonne, I don’t need you to remind me of this. I’m sorry about kindergarten today; Daisy also had a parent-teacher conference. Chloe and her father are divorced; she’s overwhelmed raising a child alone. Besides, before I even met you, I swore to Chloe that I would never let her suffer any injustice.” He continued, his voice firm, “I’ve already married you as you wished. You can’t stop me from caring for them. I owe them that much.” Dominic finished speaking, tossed his jacket aside, and went into the bathroom. The rushing water drowned out my desperate, helpless sobs. If only I had known that marriage to him would become like this, I would have chosen death over succumbing to that night. I looked at the freshly written divorce papers on my laptop, a bitter smile on my face. If not for Lily, given my personality, I would have filed for divorce long ago. But thinking of Lily’s wounded little face, I wanted to fight for her, unwilling to let her grow up without a father. Lily woke up early, overjoyed to learn her Daddy was back. She bounced excitedly on her small bed. “I’m going to take the picture I just drew to show Daddy!” Children forget easily. Lily had already forgiven Dominic for yesterday’s kindergarten incident. Lily happily ran downstairs. But she saw Chloe and Daisy already there, Dominic gently peeling an orange for Daisy. “Daddy, who are they?” Seeing Lily still at home, Dominic frowned. “Why are you still here? Where’s your mother?” Lily was startled, but she still carefully offered the family portrait she had spent a week drawing. “This is Lily’s family portrait. I drew it thinking I’d give it to Daddy when he came home…” The drawing was just about to be handed over when a small hand unceremoniously snatched it away. “What a trashy drawing!” Daisy stomped her foot and tore it in half. She put her hands on her hips defiantly, then violently shoved my daughter. “He’s my Daddy! Lily Hale, all the kids say you’re a bastard! Who said you could call him Daddy?” Seeing Lily fall to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably, I panicked. I helped Lily up and glared coldly at Daisy. “Apologize.” Dominic frowned tightly, displeased. “Yvonne, why are you being so harsh with a child?” Without a word, he scooped Daisy into his arms. “I told you last night that Daisy doesn’t like others calling me Daddy. She’s just upset and hurt, she didn’t mean to push Lily.” I remained unyielding, still insisting. “Didn’t you see if she meant it or not? Dominic, she just called Lily a bastard to her face. Tell her, is Lily really a bastard?” Dominic hesitated for a moment, but then he continued to gently console Daisy, with no intention of making her apologize. Chloe’s eyes flickered, and she smiled gracefully and apologized. “Miss Hale, I’m so sorry. Daisy grew up abroad and has a very straightforward personality; she just speaks her mind. Please don’t take it to heart.” As soon as she said that, the little girl in Dominic’s arms looked even more smug. “I wasn’t wrong! All the kids said Lily Hale is a bastard! She’s the one who stole my Daddy!” I clenched my fists, staring coldly at Dominic. Before, when he said he had a phobia of germs, Lily and I endured it, constantly accommodating him. He chose to get involved with other women under the guise of working overtime, and I turned a blind eye. But now, I could not tolerate anyone calling my daughter a bastard. “Dominic Hale, I’m asking you one more time—” “Is Lily one?” A flicker of displeasure crossed Dominic’s face, but he laughed coldly. “Don’t you know how she became my daughter?” Then, his voice changed, laced with a warning. “Alright, today is Daisy’s playdate. Let’s not make everyone unhappy.” Chloe and Daisy smirked from the side, clearly gloating. Dominic, his heart aching, picked up Daisy. “Daddy will buy you toys, okay?” “And a pretty Elsa dress!” “Alright,” Dominic agreed, his face full of doting affection. Watching his retreating back, my heart turned cold. Finally, I spoke the words I had weighed countless times but never dared to utter. “Dominic Hale, let’s get a divorce!” Dominic’s steps faltered. He turned back, his gaze chilling. “Yvonne, do you think this is amusing?” His voice dripped with disdain. “If you believe this can threaten me, then so be it. Have it your way.” With that, he left without another glance. A flicker of triumph danced in Chloe’s eyes, quickly suppressed. She returned to me, offering profuse apologies. “I’m truly sorry, Miss Hale. Dominic and I are completely innocent. He’s a man of integrity and deep loyalty. He felt sorry for me divorcing so early and my child not having a father, so he just took a little more care. Please don’t take it to heart, and don’t let this cause any unpleasantness…” Before leaving, Chloe added me on contact. She said she wanted to compensate Lily for the drawing. “Chloe, come here.” Dominic, holding Daisy, stood a short distance outside, calling her softly. “Coming!” Chloe hurried out, her face beaming. Their conversation, before they were out of earshot, drifted clearly into my ears. “Dominic, you really shouldn’t have. Miss Hale saying she wants a divorce was just out of anger. How could you agree so readily?” Dominic sneered, “She used every trick in the book to force this marriage. How could she possibly bear to divorce?” He scoffed. “Her being so harsh with our Daisy just now was a small punishment for her. It won’t be long before she’s begging me to come back.” I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. Dominic Hale, people change. The Yvonne who once loved you recklessly, putting everything on the line, is dead. Now, for my daughter’s sake, I will choose to leave you for good. Lily hid in her room, sobbing uncontrollably. “Mommy, the kids at school say Daddy is Daisy Miller’s daddy, but Lily isn’t trying to steal her Daddy…” Later, she fell asleep clutching a photo of Dominic, but I lay awake all night. I opened my phone and saw Chloe had updated her social media. “Daisy finally has the fatherly love she was missing. What belongs to us, no one can take away!” Beneath the text was a photo of the three of them intimately embracing, smiling for the camera, looking like a perfect family. I casually ‘liked’ the post when suddenly, a message popped up on my phone. It was a video from Chloe. I opened it and saw Dominic Hale’s handsome face. The timestamp was from when he had just returned to the country. A friend asked him: “Dominic, what’s the happiest thing for you?” He replied casually, “Last week, I guess, abroad. After putting Daisy to bed, I pulled Chloe into the bathroom.” Combined with the tenderness in his eyes and the teasing laughter from his friends, my hands and feet turned to ice. Chloe had once shared a post on social media: “Ever since having a child, we haven’t been able to have a private world for just the two of us. We can only wait for Daisy to fall asleep, then sneak off to do this and that…” I was lost in thought when another message from Chloe came through. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I accidentally clicked the wrong button just now and sent it to you. By the time I realized, I couldn’t unsend it.” She continued, “But honestly, you must know Dominic’s true feelings by now, right? You forced him into marriage with those underhanded tactics and became Mrs. Hale. For the past three years abroad, he’s been with Daisy and me.” She added, “Even though the child isn’t his, Dominic has been more thoughtful and considerate than a biological father. Even after we broke up, he still couldn’t bear to let me go. It won’t be long before we’re back together.” She pressed on, “Miss Hale, I know your family is wealthy, and you’re not short of men. I advise you not to make things difficult for yourself. Just step aside voluntarily.” Then she sent another picture. Daisy smiled brightly in the middle, while Chloe and Dominic simultaneously kissed the girl’s cheeks, truly looking like a perfect, happy family. I smiled and replied, “Alright.” Then, I called my father. “Dad, I’ve made up my mind. I’m taking Lily to live abroad. We’re leaving in a few days.” My father’s surprised voice came through the phone. “Really? But I heard Dominic’s back. You two just reunited as a family; does he agree to this?” I laughed, a desolate, bitter sound. “He couldn’t be happier.”

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What does it feel like to be pinned to an operating table by your own mother, about to have a kidney removed? I learned at eighteen. Perhaps I understood she didn’t love me long before she divorced my father. I just never imagined her hatred ran this deep. 1 When I was seven, my parents joined the ranks of countless divorcing couples. In court, I watched my parents feign civility, shifting blame back and forth. Expressionless, I stood up and addressed the judge. “I choose to live on my own. I don’t want either of them.” Then, amidst the astonished stares of everyone present, I walked out. No one ever knew how I managed to grow up. My mother was a gambler, spending her days playing cards and seeking thrills with her friends. My father, disappointed I was a girl, worked away from home year-round, never even returning for holidays. Independence, for an ordinary seven-year-old, might seem a distant concept. For me, it was second nature. For the next ten years, they paid no attention to me. Then, at eighteen, my mother suddenly appeared at my door. No gentle inquiries about my well-being. She wanted my kidney. After she left, I went back inside. The house was stripped bare of anything that had belonged to my mother. My father said spitefully, “Your mother already found someone else. She was probably afraid you’d be a burden and scare him off, so she likely didn’t even mention she had a child.” Seeing my lack of reaction, my father grew annoyed and muttered, “I’m going to rent this place out. I’m always on the road anyway, and you…” I wasn’t surprised he was kicking me out, just shocked it was happening so soon. As I packed my meager belongings, a morbid curiosity made me ask him, “Dad, if I had been a boy, would you still have abandoned me?” My father froze, then averted his gaze, mumbling evasively. I hadn’t truly expected an answer. Once my things were packed, I held out my hand to him. “There’s a semi-basement storage room downstairs in this building. It’s too small to rent out. Give me the key. I need a place to stay when school’s out.” This time, my father was surprisingly quick to hand over the key, almost desperately so. That very night, after a trip to the real estate agent, he left without looking back. With the help of the community center and kind neighbors, a month later I successfully enrolled in a boarding school, not too close, not too far. Spring turned to autumn, years passed. I grew, vigorous as a resilient wild grass. In a blink, my eighteenth birthday arrived. It wasn’t a day for celebration; my financial lifeline was cut. And with it, my monthly contact with my parents ceased entirely. Truth be told, my grades were average, enough to get into a decent college. But I resolutely gave up on university and became an apprentice at the largest auto repair shop in our city. A girl learning auto repair? Not only did the owner find it unbelievable, even my master mechanic thought it a waste of time to teach me. But I persisted. Over time, everyone saw that I wasn’t just having a fleeting interest. I could endure more hardship than anyone, and I was eager to learn and improve. Gradually, not only was my master willing to teach me everything he knew, but my senior colleagues were also happy to share their experiences. I established myself at the shop, my skills growing steadily, and my bank balance multiplied. Everything was heading in the direction I had planned. If only my mother hadn’t shown up at the shop and caused a scene. She burst into the shop, hair disheveled, just as I was under a BMW, working on the car. All I could see were her feet. “Is Aubrey here? Tell her to come out. I’m her mother, and I need to see her urgently.” The people in the shop had never heard me mention parents, so they looked at her with suspicion. But upon closer inspection, her face bore a five-point resemblance to mine, making them hesitate. I quietly scooted further into the shadows under the car. My boss casually glanced over, his expression unwavering as he spoke. “What do you need her for?” My mother hesitated, then spoke with a forced maternal tenderness. “Isn’t it getting cold? I was worried Aubrey didn’t have warm clothes, so I wanted to take her shopping for a few things. Where is she? Tell her to come out! Do you think I’d lie to you?” This time, it was my master who spoke. He stood strategically, placing himself between my mother and the BMW. “Aubrey doesn’t work here anymore. Please leave. We’re about to wash the cars; you wouldn’t want to get your clothes wet.” Seeing that no one in the shop believed her, my mother dropped the pretense and began creating a huge ruckus. “Bullshit! I asked around! She works here! What are you trying to hide her for, you creeps?!” Her voice rose to a shriek. “A bunch of grown men hiding a young girl! I… I’ll go outside and yell that you’ve corrupted my daughter and won’t let me take her!” “Don’t stop me! I must find Aubrey today! I can’t wait; there’s no time left!” Her shouts attracted more and more onlookers outside the shop. My master and senior colleagues were honest, decent men. Faced with such a belligerent shrew, they didn’t even know how to respond. Yet, even as she hurled insults and smeared their reputations, they held their ground, protecting me. But I couldn’t hide any longer. I couldn’t let her hurt these people who had genuinely cared for me. I crawled out from under the car, grabbed a rag to wipe the black grease from my hands, and stood expressionless before my mother. “Brenda Lin,” I said coldly, “I’m giving you two choices: either tell the truth, or get out.” My mother pointed a finger at my nose and shrieked, “What did you call me?! I’m your damn mother! You call me Brenda Lin?! Are you even human, disowning your own mother?” I was too tired to argue. I simply stated, “I have all the time in the world to stand here and listen to you. You can curse for a day, a month, a year; I’m all ears.” Her urgency, her impatience from earlier, wasn’t feigned. Grasping her weakness was the fastest way to restore peace to the shop. Sure enough, Brenda stopped cursing. A flicker of guilt crossed her face, quickly masked by her deliberately raised chin and wide, defiant eyes. She said self-righteously, “Your brother is sick and needs a kidney transplant. You need to come with me for compatibility testing. The doctors say a biological sister has a high success rate. It’s your duty!” … The onlookers, who had initially joined Brenda in criticizing the shop for hiding a girl and me for addressing my mother by her first name, now fell silent. Their eyes on Brenda were filled with disbelief and outrage. I, however, burst into laughter, bending over with amusement. So, His Royal Highness was sick, was he? My laughter, sharp and piercing, unnerved Brenda. She swallowed, puffed out her chest, and issued a command. “Laugh, laugh, laugh! Your brother is sick, and you can still laugh? You’re worse than an animal! Get with me now! At most, after the transplant, I’ll give you two thousand dollars for supplements to recover.” She scoffed. “Hmph, I don’t even think you’ll need supplements. Your body’s tough as nails.” The smile slowly faded from my face. My expression darkened. I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, scrutinizing her shameless face. Tsk, tsk, tsk, truly unsightly. “Brenda Lin, from the moment you screamed ‘I don’t want this daughter!’ ‘I don’t want this daughter!’ in court when you divorced my father, you ceased to be my mother. The five hundred dollars in child support you sent me each month before I turned eighteen, I will now, in front of everyone, return to you in one lump sum. From this moment on, we are completely even. As for your precious prince needing a kidney transplant…” I deliberately drew out the last words. Brenda’s eyes held a flicker of desperate hope as she looked at me. Then, I spoke each word clearly, emphatically: “That has nothing to do with me. If you make another scene here, don’t blame me for personally dragging you to the police station. If you don’t believe me, feel free to test whether I’ll actually do it.” Watching the hope in Brenda’s eyes shatter into fragments, an inexplicable surge of satisfaction rose in my heart. She didn’t know. On nights spent in that basement, I too had trembled uncontrollably from thunder and lightning, hoping she would come to see me, or at least answer a call so I could hear my mother’s voice. Yet, she had blocked me. The thought of her comforting her son, telling him not to be afraid, letting him sleep soundly, made a wave of hatred instantly override my fear. In the thunder, I had opened the window level with the ground, stood on a stool by the sill, letting the wind and rain lash against me, fearless and unafraid. Brenda knew I meant what I said. She cursed me as an ungrateful wretch and a white-eyed wolf, then pressed me to transfer the money to her. Finally, she left reluctantly, defeated. I ignored the complex glances cast my way, slipped back under the car, and continued my work. By the time I finished, it was well past closing time. My boss sat by the shop door, smoking. Seeing me emerge from under the car, he put out his cigarette, looking as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t. All my life, I had seen mostly the cold indifference of the world. My boss’s hesitation, I interpreted as him not knowing how to fire me, a potential magnet for future trouble from Brenda. I thought for a moment, then, being considerate, spoke first: “Boss, could you give me a few days to find a new place before I leave?” My boss shot up, his voice tinged with anger. “What are you talking about, Aubrey? What kind of person do you take me for, John Bell? I… I was going to ask if you needed to borrow some money, since you gave her all yours? Or if you wanted an advance on a few months’ salary? I just didn’t want to hurt your pride.” This time, it was my turn to be surprised. Wasn’t my boss afraid Brenda would cause trouble again? She was a greedy, insatiable woman. Thinking this, the question slipped out. My boss grinned, showing off his pearly whites, and said honestly, “No businessman wants trouble, but I especially don’t want my employees to be bullied. I don’t look for trouble, but if trouble comes, I’m not afraid of it. Aubrey, you just keep working here steadily. If you have any financial difficulties, just say the word.” A warmth silently bloomed inside me, spreading through my whole body, and a moist light filled my heart. “Thank you, Boss.” My boss scratched his head uncomfortably as he closed the door, saying, “Oh, come on, we’ve known each other this long. ‘Boss, boss’ sounds too formal. Just call me John from now on.” I repeated the name to myself. The end syllable made me smile, as if every time I said it, I would be happy. Back at the dorms John rented for us behind the shop, the moment I stepped inside, I noticed a difference. Usually, by this time, snores would be echoing through the rooms. But today, there was no snoring, only the clinking and clanking of pots and pans from the kitchen. Hearing the door open, my master stuck his head out from the kitchen. This surprised me even more. My master owned his own house and didn’t live in the dorms. What was he doing in our kitchen so late at night? Soon after, a few senior colleagues also appeared, waving me to sit at the dining table. A feast was coming. Watching dish after dish being placed on the table, I suddenly understood. These men, not given to many words, were comforting me in their own way. During the meal, no one mentioned the day’s events. Everyone spoke of lighthearted topics. My usually quiet master even told me a corny old joke. I ate more that night than I ever had. I had always been used to fighting my battles alone. Now, suddenly, having people standing behind me, it felt like I had a strong support system, a new motivation. My fearless heart grew even stronger. After seeing my master off, I tidied the kitchen. I began to make careful plans. Over the years, although my contact with Brenda had been minimal, it didn’t mean I didn’t understand her. On the contrary, I knew her very well. She had tasted sweetness from me today; tomorrow, she would demand more. Rather than being passively exploited, I needed to actively bare my fangs. I needed to let Brenda know the price of provoking me.

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Five years had passed since I, Noah Sterling, returned to my wealthy birth family—and since Lucas Sterling, the “son” who replaced me, shattered my world by crashing a car into my leg. My parents and childhood sweetheart, Seraphina, rushed me to the hospital. When doctors said I might never walk again, Seraphina proposed, vowing to care for me. My parents cut ties with Lucas, urging me to hand over evidence against him so they could “handle it.” Later, they claimed he drowned fleeing justice. I believed them. Until, five years into our marriage, I saw Lucas—alive. He held my son, Leo, sighing at Seraphina: “Without you and Mom and Dad, Noah would’ve sent me to prison. That cripple will never know the boy is mine—or that they swapped his meds for placebos.” Seraphina softened. “Marrying him let me sign affidavits to protect you. As long as you’re safe, it was worth it.” My heart tore open. My own family had conspired against me. If this was their game, I’d simply… quit. … In the hospital lobby, I watched Lucas embrace Leo, Seraphina nestled beside them, a picture of familial bliss. My chest constricted, a hollow ache where my heart should be. I couldn’t breathe. My precious son, the boy I adored, wasn’t mine. My wife, who’d vowed to care for me forever, was in love with the man who’d nearly ended my life. Even my parents, after destroying the evidence, still hadn’t trusted me, pushing Seraphina to marry me so she could always provide Lucas with legal cover. My phone vibrated. It was Mom. “Noah, why didn’t you wait for us to come to the hospital? We’re almost there, where are you?” Her voice was laced with urgent concern, and a wave of searing fury washed over me. I clenched my fist, nails digging deep into my palm. “Oh, I was thinking I couldn’t burden you my whole life, so I decided to come for this rehab session by myself.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “We’re family, darling! How could you ever be a burden? Have you made it inside the hospital yet? We’re on our way!” Every previous physical therapy session, Mom and Dad had always accompanied me. I’d believed it was out of love and concern. Now, I saw the sinister truth beneath the surface. “Yes, I just arrived. Heading into the main lobby on the ground floor.” I steered my wheelchair to a secluded corner, speaking deliberately. Just as I expected, their tone grew frantic. They told me not to go in, that it was too crowded and unsafe, and they were close by, about to find me. I gave a cold affirmation and hung up. Across the lobby, I saw Seraphina answer her phone. Her face instantly tightened with alarm. She muttered a few words to Lucas, then quickly scooped Leo from his arms and exited through a back door. Lucas melted into the crowd, vanishing from sight. A bitter realization dawned on me. That call must have been from Mom and Dad. They hadn’t wanted me to enter because they were afraid I’d see Lucas and Seraphina, not because they were worried about my safety. Shock and anguish surged through me, threatening to drown me. Everyone, everyone, had conspired to deceive me for the sake of Lucas, the man who was truly the culprit! My nails dug so deep they almost tore my palm, the sharp pain a lifeline, pulling me back to a semblance of clarity. Very well. If they wanted a show, I’d give them one. I pulled out my phone, started a voice recording, and steered my wheelchair towards the hospital entrance, meeting my parents as they rushed in. Mom’s eyes were wide with a flicker of panic. “Noah, why did you go in without waiting for us?” Dad, beside her, frowned. “Didn’t we tell you the hospital is busy and you shouldn’t go in alone?” “I waited for ages, then had to use the restroom.” I replied calmly, my expression neutral. Mom’s gaze was probing. “You didn’t… see anyone, did you?” Her nervous expression was a fresh stab to my heart. For a fleeting moment, I wanted to scream, to demand an explanation. Why lie to me? But I knew, deep down, that asking was pointless now. I had already decided to leave them behind. “See anyone? I was in the restroom for a while, too busy to notice.” My unwavering demeanor seemed to reassure them. “Come on, then. We’ll go up with you.” Dad took the handles of my wheelchair, while Mom knelt to secure my face mask. “Flu season is bad, sweetie. You need to protect yourself, or Mom will worry sick if you get ill.” In the past, her worried eyes and caring words would have moved me deeply. But now, I could feel not a trace of genuine love from her. We arrived at the rehabilitation center on the twelfth floor. I lay on the hospital bed, letting the doctor administer the anesthetic. Then, in a haze between sleep and wakefulness, I heard my parents’ conversation with him. “Mr. Sterling’s leg has been neglected for far too long. If he doesn’t have surgery soon, he really will never walk again…” “The previous rehab sessions were all half-measures, and the medication was swapped for placebos, just as you instructed. Mr. Sterling, are you truly going to stand by and watch your son remain crippled at such a young age?” Dad’s voice was stern, cutting. “I paid a fortune to bring you here from overseas, not to listen to your pointless questions. Just do as I say!” Mom chimed in, her voice cold. “So what if he can’t walk again? We can support him for life. Do you, an outsider, need to worry about that? Don’t forget, we’ve been paying your salary for five years. Don’t start thinking you’re actually part of the hospital staff.” The doctor quickly conceded. “No, no, I just meant… Mr. Sterling has been on anesthetics for years. He might develop a tolerance later on. What would we do then?” “That’s your problem to figure out. Just make sure his leg neither recovers nor gets worse. Maintain that balance.” “Yes, sir.” The door opened, and my parents walked out. I lay there, feeling as if I’d been plunged into a freezing hell. They didn’t know I was already developing a tolerance to the anesthetics. I’d heard every word, and every word was now recorded. They had even hired a doctor from overseas and kept him on their payroll for five years, all to deceive me! A sharp, agonizing pain tore through my chest. Tears welled in my eyes, tracing silent paths down my temples. After the ‘treatment’ ended, my parents enthusiastically pushed me back home. Seraphina, who just two hours ago had been engrossed with Lucas at the hospital, now greeted us at the door, apron tied around her waist. “Honey, rehab must have been exhausting, right? I made bone broth for you. Drink it, it’ll help you get better faster!” Her eyes brimmed with tenderness and concern, as if she were still the loving woman who swore to care for me for life. If I hadn’t seen her with Lucas at the hospital, if I hadn’t overheard their conversation, I might have been deeply moved. But now, her smile felt utterly fake. The man she truly loved was the very one who’d shattered my leg. To provide him with legal immunity, she’d willingly sacrificed her own marriage, feigning affection for me. I glanced at Leo, who was playing on the sofa with a tablet. It had taken me so many years to realize he had never once called me “Dad.” Seraphina had always brushed it off, claiming he was too young, that it was normal for him not to say it yet, telling me not to overthink things. Now, I knew. It was simply because I wasn’t his father. During dinner, Mom’s eyes suddenly turned red as she stared at the dishes on the table, and she began to cry softly. Seraphina quickly put down her utensils and asked what was wrong, while Dad sighed, gently patting her back. “Your mom probably saw Lucas’s favorite dishes. She misses him.” He paused, his voice heavy. “That boy, even though he did something wrong, he was still our child for over a decade. He didn’t deserve to die like that…” I sensed they were watching my expression, and a bitter taste filled my mouth. Didn’t deserve to die? So, it’s okay to sacrifice me for him? Is this my fate? “Honey, it’s been five years,” Seraphina said, her voice gentle. “Lucas was only twenty back then. Maybe he just acted rashly. We grew up together; he always had a bit of an extreme personality. He must have felt you were trying to steal everything from him.” Her eyes were a little hesitant. “His… anniversary is in five days. I know you don’t want to go. Can Dad, Mom, and I go pay our respects for him?” “Hmm. Go ahead. After all, he was in this house longer than I was. It’s natural for you to have feelings for him.” I replied, my voice flat. Seraphina visibly relaxed, her tone growing even softer. “Honey, I knew you were kind-hearted. You wouldn’t hold a grudge against your… late brother.” Mom wiped her tears. “My good son. It’s true, my own child is more understanding.” I bowed my head into my bowl, letting tears drip silently. So, they knew I was their biological child all along. My stomach clenched in a painful knot, and I excused myself, claiming to feel unwell, and retreated to my room. Seraphina followed shortly after, carrying a cup of stomach medicine she’d prepared, her eyes filled with worry and sympathy. Seeing that I didn’t want to talk, she silently brought in warm water and gently wiped my face with a cloth. For the ten years since I’d been brought back home, her eyes had only been on me. Even when Lucas had confessed his feelings to her, he’d only been met with her cold rejection. Now, I finally understood. She didn’t love me; she simply wanted to marry the future heir of Sterling Enterprises. Her love and her marriage were two entirely separate things. Late that night, after Seraphina and Leo had fallen asleep, I quietly got up and picked up her phone from her bedside table. The password was Leo’s birthday. The top contact in her WeChat was me, followed by Mom and Dad. I scrolled through, finding no anomalies. It wasn’t until I tried switching accounts that I discovered Seraphina had a second, private account. The chat history on that account was with only one person: Lucas. Seraphina, it’s been five years. How much longer do I have to hide? He doesn’t have any evidence of me hitting him, and he’s a cripple now, utterly harmless. Can you bear to keep our son separated from his father any longer? Seraphina’s replies were reassuring: Mom, Dad, and I are already planning our next move. Don’t rush things. I discovered that Lucas had returned to the country a few days prior. They had arranged a new identity for him and even registered a real estate company in his name. In five days, it would be the company’s grand opening. My fingers trembled as I clicked through his social media feed. My heart turned colder with each photo. Over the past five years, Lucas had been living a lavish life overseas, funded entirely by my parents. He wore luxury brands from Sterling Enterprises, lived in lavish villas owned by the company abroad. Seraphina had used ‘business trips’ as an excuse to fly out and be with him. Even my parents were beaming in the photos, their smiles wide and genuine. At that moment, I finally understood: they were the real family. I fought back the burning tears in my eyes, snapping screenshots of all the evidence. Then, I switched back to her main account. That’s when I noticed Seraphina had changed her personal status. It used to be just one word: [Waiting]. I’d asked her what it meant, and she’d smiled, saying she was waiting for my leg to heal. Now, it read: [He’s Returned]. I finally understood. “Waiting” meant waiting for Lucas to come back. “He’s Returned” meant Lucas was back for good. I placed the phone back on her bedside table, then went out to the balcony and made a call. “Hello, I’d like to book a flight for five days from now, heading overseas.” Five days. Enough time to bid farewell to five years of fake love. Back in bed, I lay awake through the night. The next day, during lunch, my phone screen lit up. Seraphina, glancing over, instantly blanched. “Honey, what card are you applying to cancel?” I calmly pressed the screen off. “My bank card is expiring. I just scheduled a replacement.” She seemed to want to say more, but her phone rang. “Honey, something’s come up at the company. I need to take care of it. I won’t be able to join you for lunch.” I nodded. As she left, Leo insisted on going with her. Mom and Dad stepped in, promising to take him out to play, and Seraphina quickly departed. I was finally alone in the house. Just as I was about to leave, a friend request popped up on my phone. Noah, you heard everything at the hospital yesterday, didn’t you? It was Lucas. My wife, my son… they’re all mine. Even your real parents, once they heard the doctors speculate you might not be able to have children after the accident, immediately decided to protect me. They even pushed Seraphina to be with me, to give me children. We’re the legitimate couple. You’re just a clown. They even opened a company for me. The grand opening is in five days. I bet they’re keeping that from you too, right? I really regret not crippling you sooner. All of this should have been mine ages ago. Each word was a razor-sharp blade, twisting in my heart. So that was why. That was why my parents had chosen to protect him. That was why Seraphina had willingly borne him a son. I took screenshots of all the messages, then found my marriage certificate with Seraphina. Beneath her bedside table, I discovered the affidavit. Clenching these documents, I went to see a lawyer. The lawyer informed me that chat records couldn’t be considered definitive evidence, and a letter of understanding provided by a family member held legal weight. I asked him to draft divorce papers, but he frowned, telling me my marriage certificate was fake. The words struck me like lightning. My heart plummeted into an abyss of despair. Lucas hadn’t been wrong. I was nothing but a fool, a clown in their elaborate circus. The lawyer’s eyes, however, lit up. If the marriage certificate was fake, then Seraphina’s affidavit was legally invalid. It amounted to fraud and obstruction of justice! I was overwhelmed with gratitude, begging him to help me draft a complaint. After leaving the law firm, I took a taxi to another hospital for a full medical examination. When the doctor told me there was still hope for my leg, tears of joy welled in my eyes. He explained that the old car accident had caused a blockage in my vas deferens, preventing me from having children, but it could be corrected with surgery. As for my leg fracture, since it hadn’t worsened over five years, I could regain the ability to walk with prompt surgery.

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1 Lillian Vance, the rising starlet, had been dominating the entertainment headlines for days. Just yesterday, news of her intimate antics with a co-star on set had gone viral. Today, however, a new spectacle unfolded: the city’s most coveted advertising space, the colossal screen atop the tallest downtown skyscraper, ceaselessly scrolled a declaration of love for her. A gigantic poster of Lillian graced the left side, while the right blared, “Lillian Vance, I Love You.” The priciest ad space, purchased for the simplest, most direct declaration of affection. That evening, Liam Harrison, a rare presence at home, dropped a bombshell. “Lillian’s upset with me, and she’s proving particularly difficult to pacify this time,” he said, his voice as flat as if he were commenting on the weather. “Clara, what if we just… got a divorce for now?” I paused, the banquet guest list I’d been drafting slipping from my grasp, and looked up at him, my eyes clouded with confusion. “Don’t worry, it’s just a formality,” he promised, his tone suddenly earnest. “We’ll remarry after things calm down. You’ll always be Mrs. Harrison.” I considered his words for a moment. “Alright,” I replied. Neither of us knew then that this ‘formality’ would be the first step in a diverging path, leading us further and further apart, a path from which we would never return to each other, never to remarry. My easy agreement to the divorce stemmed from a peculiar trust. I believed Liam wasn’t lying about remarrying. He saw our divorce as a mere trinket, a fleeting gift to appease his current mistress. It seemed Lillian Vance truly was different from his usual fleeting interests. Liam was a philanderer, but his infatuations typically flared and died with rapid succession. His companions rarely lasted beyond a month before he moved on to a new face. Yet, this time, the rising starlet, Lillian Vance, had held his attention for three months. Yesterday, her cozy news with a co-star went viral, and today Liam declared his devotion in such a public, extravagant display. He was actually jealous, a stark sign that his fascination with her hadn’t waned at all; if anything, he was behaving like a giddy teenager in the throes of first love. As for Liam wanting a divorce to placate another woman, my heart remained utterly unruffled. It wasn’t that we had never loved each other. But once that love had withered, Liam and I had, like so many high-society couples around us, settled into a façade of harmony. Our marriage had run the gamut: from initial blissful sweetness, through a gradual descent into monotony, followed by the inevitable arguments and histrionics, until finally, it had settled into this current state of profound silence and deathly calm. Ours wasn’t a strategic alliance; it began as a genuine romance. Liam and I met in high school. He was two years my senior, a shining star, a campus idol. I was just one of countless younger students who admired him from afar. I threw myself into my studies, determined to get into the same university he attended. Knowing he was involved in student council and the debate club, I diligently followed in his footsteps. Driven by a singular, audacious determination, I steadily closed the distance between us. And then, finally, he noticed me. During the annual student council showcase, my traditional dance performance captivated the entire audience, earning a thunderous ovation. As I took my bow, I distinctly saw him in the front row, his gaze alight with admiration, and indeed, a flicker of genuine interest. After the showcase, Liam began to pursue me. I feigned a touch of coy reluctance for a short while, but soon, we were officially an item. As a boyfriend, he was exceptional. He possessed vast knowledge and a broad intellect, yet he was never arrogant about it. Conversations with him were a delight. Back then, we had an endless stream of topics, chatting late into the night until the dorm lights flickered off, hanging up the phone with reluctant sighs. Despite being born into immense wealth – a true silver-spoon heir – he was surprisingly considerate. Though he’d never cooked a meal in his life, he would personally prepare a special birthday dish for me on my birthday. I considered my own family quite well-off, but compared to his, we were mere new money, practically parvenus. 2 Liam’s grandparents and great-grandparents had studied abroad years ago, returning to build their empire. Generations of his family elders were either titans of academia, industry moguls, or powerful corporate board members. My own family, on the other hand, hailed from humble rural roots. My father had left home in his youth to seek his fortune, catching the wave of the real estate boom to make his wealth. When he first proposed marriage, Liam had to put in a monumental effort, making countless promises before his parents finally gave their reluctant approval. Touched by his dedication, and determined to be worthy of him, I abandoned my chosen major during my graduate studies, switching directly to business. After graduation, I joined Liam’s family enterprise, working alongside him, hand-in-hand. I wanted his family to see that I was capable, that I could genuinely contribute, that I wasn’t just some decorative figure. Originally, his family had agreed he could spend a few years forging his own path after graduation. But to marry me, he promised to immediately shoulder the immense family responsibilities upon graduation. From then on, he worked tirelessly, day and night, without a moment’s respite. It took two arduous years before he fully took over all the group’s operations, finally finding his stride and becoming adept. On Valentine’s Day, he asked if I wanted to leave the company. He knew I didn’t enjoy business management, nor the cutthroat atmosphere of the corporate world. “You’ve worked too hard these past two years, Clara,” he said, his gaze warm and tender as he looked at me. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a handle on things now. I can manage on my own. Rest if you want to.” So, I left the company. But there was no ‘rest’ to be had. Even without direct business involvement, as the Chairman’s wife, the future matriarch of a prominent family, my plate was overflowing. To gain his family’s approval, I lived every day with meticulous care, weighing every word, every action. I had to actively help manage the charity organization his mother founded, personally overseeing every regular event. I needed to cultivate strong relationships with the wives of the group’s executives and partners. Invitations to other people’s galas required my polite attendance. And at home, we frequently hosted smaller soirées to foster connections with other high-society ladies. The Harrison family was vast, and deeply invested in its legacy. Every holiday necessitated a grand family dinner, with countless direct and extended relatives attending. After our marriage, Mrs. Harrison entrusted me with the responsibility of organizing these lavish gatherings. I remember the first one, for the Thanksgiving after our wedding. To ensure everything was flawless and to make a good impression on my mother-in-law, I began fretting about it a full two weeks beforehand. The two days of the dinner itself, I barely slept, my nerves strung taut. Thankfully, the dinner concluded perfectly. But after managing all the post-event details, I collapsed in the elevator. The doctor attributed it to extreme nervous tension and prolonged lack of sleep. I even made Liam promise not to tell either set of parents. I yearned for perfection, refusing to allow a single flaw. And through my tireless efforts, Liam’s parents, his sister, even his aunts, uncles, and other relatives slowly came to accept and embrace me. Yet, Liam cheated. 3 Perhaps I was too eager to prove myself, too desperate for his family’s approval. After we married, I poured all my energy into ‘management’ – first my career, then my relationship with his family. The marriage itself, the bond between us, genuinely received little of my focus. I could feel it myself: our encounters grew increasingly rare. Sometimes, we’d see each other only once or twice a month. The first time I discovered his infidelity, it felt as though my entire world was collapsing. That day, he’d made a rare trip back to the family estate. Liam’s parents had already retired after dinner, but I deliberately lingered over my meal, just to steal a few more moments with him. I was never sure if a phone call wouldn’t suddenly summon him back to the office after dessert – it had happened more times than I could count. When he excused himself to the restroom, his phone vibrated on the table. He’d always told me I could answer his calls anytime. For years, I had. So, instinctively, I picked it up and pressed ‘answer.’ A young woman’s soft, cooing voice purred from the other end: “When you come over tonight, darling, could you bring me a bag of roasted chestnuts? I’m craving them so badly.” Perhaps unable to fully process what I’d just heard, my mind seemed to freeze. I couldn’t even formulate a coherent thought, yet when I spoke, my voice was unnervingly calm: “Excuse me? Could you repeat that?” There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end, then the line went dead. It wasn’t until Liam returned that the reality of what had just happened truly crashed over me. I looked at him, my eyes burning with unshed tears. When I finally spoke, my voice was a tremulous whisper, almost unrecognizable: “She… she said to bring her a bag of roasted chestnuts…” Liam rushed over, his arms wrapping around me in a frantic embrace. “I’m so sorry, Clara. I didn’t mean it. I just… I had a moment of weakness. Can you ever forgive me?” I sobbed, demanding, “Why, Liam? How could you betray our marriage?” It had never once crossed my mind that Liam would ever be unfaithful. The betrayal shattered me; I was ill for a long time. Liam came home every day, staying by my side, personally preparing my meals, caring for me with a tender attentiveness. He apologized to me countless times, begging for my forgiveness. Unable to let go of all the years we’d shared, my heart softened, and I forgave him. But it wasn’t long before he cheated again. This time, facing my desperate pleas and raw anguish, he merely watched with cold indifference. There was no longer any hint of guilt, no apologies offered. “Clara,” he’d said, his voice flat, “this is just how our circle operates. You need to get used to it. No matter what I do outside, your position as Mrs. Harrison will never be threatened.” During that period, I plummeted into an abyss of self-doubt and agonizing contradiction. I couldn’t fathom it: how could people who supposedly loved each other betray one another? Was I not good enough? I became consumed by anxiety, suffering from severe insomnia, losing handfuls of hair, and looking utterly haggard. Recognizing my spiraling condition, I sought a therapist. My capacity for self-preservation had always been strong. With the doctor’s guidance, I slowly began to untangle my thoughts, shedding the endless struggle and self-consumption. Through a nearly brutal method of emotional detoxification, I forcibly excised Liam from my heart. The day I could watch him walk into a restaurant hand-in-hand with another woman, my expression unmarred, I knew: I had successfully rescued myself. No, I had never considered divorce. Since my marriage to Liam, my family’s business had soared. The Harrison family didn’t directly collaborate with us; my family’s business scale simply wasn’t significant enough for Harrison Group to even notice. But with that connection, the shrewd operators in the business world were eager to curry favor. Plus, riding the wave of the real estate boom that erupted in those years, my family had indeed flourished. 4 My family’s business was one reason I hadn’t considered divorce. Another was that during the first two years of our marriage, while I was still at Harrison Group, I participated in and spearheaded a major project that earned Liam’s father’s commendation. He decided to grant me a small share of the group’s stock. The annual dividends I received were a colossal sum, and that amount continued to climb each year. Just last year alone, my dividends, combined with the monthly allowance Liam gave me – a million dollars – and the occasional jewelry and cash gifts from Mrs. Harrison, totaled nearly two hundred million. It might sound a bit disingenuous, but at that point, I had everything within the Harrison family except love. A wealthy husband who rarely comes home – isn’t that the dream life many women fantasize about online? What more could I possibly be discontent with? I rationalized to myself that life couldn’t be perfectly complete; I shouldn’t be so greedy, wanting to have my cake and eat it too. Over the past year, I had adapted and even grown accustomed to this existence. Liam and I maintained a façade of happiness. Privately, he led his life, and I led mine. Gradually, I even found a quiet contentment. Sometimes, when he unexpectedly appeared after a long absence, I felt a peculiar unease. Deep down, I’d silently wish he would leave soon, feeling his presence disrupted my peace. When Liam and his new favored companion hit the entertainment news, I felt nothing. This rising starlet, Lillian Vance, was indeed different for Liam. She had broken the record for how long a woman stayed by his side. Over three months, and Liam showed no signs of boredom; if anything, he doted on her even more intensely. He even grew jealous when she was seen with other men – a reaction he’d never exhibited before. And now, to appease her, he was divorcing me. Not only that, the divorce had to be publicly announced. No doubt, it was another grand gesture for the girl’s benefit. Such elaborate, painstaking efforts – I couldn’t help but tease him. “Are you actually serious about her?” Liam’s expression turned serious. “You don’t need to probe, Clara. I promised you, you will always be Mrs. Harrison.” I scoffed inwardly. He’d promised to love me forever when we married, too. How much good had that done? Still, I suspected he wasn’t bluffing about the remarriage. By now, I was far too deeply intertwined with the Harrison family. Through my painstaking efforts, Liam’s parents had come to genuinely accept me as their daughter-in-law, truly embracing me as one of their own. Beyond corporate matters, they often bypassed Liam entirely, consulting directly with me on countless family affairs and social obligations. I could also sense Mrs. Harrison’s increasing reliance on me. Her friends sometimes joked, “‘Our Clara’ has become your catchphrase, hasn’t it? Alright, alright, we know you have a wonderful daughter-in-law!” That’s why, with this divorce, Liam insisted we present a fait accompli to his parents. Only after the legal waiting period, after we had the divorce decree in hand, did we inform Liam’s parents. When Liam personally delivered the news, his father nearly fainted with rage. It was the first time I’d seen Mr. Harrison Sr. explode in such a fury; he actually hurled his teacup at Liam, his usually steady hands trembling with indignation. “Preposterous!” he thundered, “To do something so utterly absurd! Do you treat marriage as a child’s game?” Mrs. Harrison was equally incensed. “Is that little actress poisoning your mind? Liam, play your games, but know where to draw the line!” Liam clutched his bruised forehead, trying to explain calmly, “I told Clara, we’ll remarry later.” His father’s voice boomed, “What ‘later’? Before the news gets out, go remarry her now!” “Actually, it’s too late,” Liam mumbled, already turning to make his escape. “I’ve already released the divorce announcement to the media.”

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At the end of the year, I treated a business partner to dinner, spending a thousand dollars. When I went to claim the reimbursement, Bethany Hayes, Ethan Carter’s childhood friend, transferred fifty dollars to my Venmo. I messaged her, asking if it was a mistake. Bethany immediately shot back, launching into a furious tirade. “Have you no shame? Fifty dollars is more than enough for two people! You’re clearly just trying to fleece the company.” I tried to explain that this was a fifty-million-dollar project, and we couldn’t skimp on a client dinner. A cheap meal wouldn’t set the right tone for negotiations. But Bethany wouldn’t listen. Frustrated, I called Ethan, asking him to back me up. He glared at me, his face cold. “Negotiating deals is about competence, not about a single meal. You’ve been taking advantage of company funds under the guise of business deals for years, Emily. Don’t push your luck.” The next day, I took a major client from Prescott Holdings to a roadside diner. After the hundred-million-dollar deal fell through, Ethan lost his mind. … “Venmo payment received: Fifty dollars.” I stared at the notification on my phone, then looked at Bethany. “Bethany, did you make a mistake? I spent a thousand dollars on dinner with Mr. Davies yesterday. Here’s the receipt.” Bethany merely flicked her eyes at me, a look of utter impatience on her face. “Weren’t there just two of you for dinner?” I nodded. She scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Then there’s no mistake. Fifty dollars is perfectly enough for two people to eat. How on earth did you spend a thousand? You’re clearly just trying to fleece the company.” I was speechless, struggling to keep my anger in check. “Bethany, the project I was discussing with Mr. Davies yesterday is worth over fifty million dollars. You can’t seriously expect to close a deal like that over a fifty-dollar meal.” She rolled her eyes at me, completely unfazed. “Excuses are just cover-ups. If you want to take advantage of the company, just say so. Don’t use business deals as an excuse. Don’t push your luck. You’re lucky I even gave you fifty dollars.” With that, she threw the receipt at my face and spat, “Get out! Don’t bother me while I’m working.” I was fuming. Trembling, I pulled out my phone and called Ethan Carter. Bethany sneered when she saw me dial his number. “Have some shame, Emily. Do you really think you can exploit the company just because you’re Ethan’s girlfriend?” I was beyond arguing with Bethany. Ethan was the company owner; he should understand. A few minutes later, Ethan stormed into the finance office, a scowl on his face. Seeing me, he snapped, “Emily, can you please stop stirring up trouble? Bethany is incredibly busy, and you’re just making things harder for her. Why are you so high-maintenance?” His words stunned me. I couldn’t believe Ethan would say that. I held out the receipt and the Venmo transfer to him. “How am I stirring up trouble? I spent a thousand dollars treating Mr. Davies to dinner, and she only reimbursed me fifty. That’s not even pocket change.” Ethan glanced at Bethany. Bethany’s eyes immediately welled up, and she began to sob. “Oh, Ethan, I don’t know what I did to offend Emily. She’s accusing me in front of everyone in the company. I was just trying to protect the company’s interests! If even that makes me wrong, then I’ll just resign!” Ethan instantly pulled Bethany into a comforting embrace, his voice gentle and soothing. “Bethany, you’ve done nothing wrong. Don’t be upset.” Then, he hurled his phone straight at my face. My cheek instantly swelled, throbbing. He followed by tearing the receipt into shreds and flinging the pieces at me. “Emily, it’s just a bit of money! Do you really have to be so petty about it? Fifty dollars is enough for two people, but you insisted on spending a thousand. Taking advantage of the company is one thing, but then threatening Bethany? Have you no shame?” “And stop bringing up the client deal! Mr. Davies would partner with our company because of our capabilities, not because of one dinner! Stop trying to take credit for yourself!” I clutched my stinging cheek, my heart pounding with rage. I forced myself to speak through clenched teeth. “Fifty dollars for two people, that’s twenty-five dollars per person. So, from now on, the company’s entertainment budget is twenty-five dollars per person?” Ethan frowned, realizing something was off, and was about to speak. But Bethany cut him off. “What’s wrong with twenty-five dollars per person? You usually only spend about fifteen dollars on your own cafeteria meals, don’t you? Why are you suddenly so keen on fleecing the company now? Besides, if one meal could decide a partnership, why don’t we just open a restaurant instead of a company?” Ethan nodded, deep in thought. “Bethany’s right. I won’t dwell on the past, Emily. But from now on, the entertainment standard is twenty-five dollars per person. Don’t even think about taking another cent from the company.” My heart turned to ice. I managed a cold, bitter laugh and nodded. “Alright. If that’s how it is, then I’ll follow company policy from now on. I promise not to spend a single cent more.” Ethan looked pleased. “Emily, even though you’re my girlfriend, business is business. Bethany works hard, don’t cause trouble for her all the time.” I simply hummed in agreement, signaling I’d understood. Bethany shot me a smug, triumphant look, then settled back with an air of superior satisfaction. I turned and left. That afternoon, Ethan suddenly called me. He said Prescott Holdings was looking to invest a hundred million dollars in our company’s new project. Since I had previously liaised with Prescott Holdings, he wanted me to arrange a dinner, emphasizing that securing the investment was paramount. I agreed, paused for a moment, then asked, “How many people for this dinner?” Ethan thought for a moment. “Mr. Prescott, you, and me. Three people total.” I said, “Got it,” and hung up. Three people. Seventy-five dollars. What to eat? I remembered the barbecue place in the food market next door. They had both food and drinks. Seventy-five dollars wouldn’t get us a full meal, but it would be barely enough. That evening, I led Ethan and Mr. Prescott to a roadside barbecue joint on the main street. I found the owner, asked for two rickety stools, and motioned for them to sit down. “Mr. Prescott, please, have a seat! What would you like to drink? How about some cheap whiskey?” Mr. Prescott stood motionless, his face etched with disgust. Ethan nervously pulled me aside. “Emily, what is going on? I told you to arrange a proper dinner! What kind of arrangement is this?” I feigned innocence. Just then, the owner brought out three complimentary side dishes. I thanked him cheerfully, then slowly replied to Ethan. “Ethan, the meal standard is twenty-five dollars per person. For three of us, that’s seventy-five, right? This is the most cost-effective place. The owner even gave us three free side dishes!” Mr. Prescott scoffed. “A hundred-million-dollar project, and in your eyes, it’s only worth discussing at a roadside stall?” Ethan frantically tried to explain that wasn’t it at all. But I quickly cut in. “Mr. Prescott, our boss doesn’t mean that. He simply believes that securing a project depends on the capabilities of both companies, not on one meal. As long as you can fill your stomach, that’s what matters. Or are you implying you wanted to take advantage of our company through this meal?” Ethan shoved me. “Emily, stop spouting nonsense!” Mr. Prescott’s face was cold as he uttered, “You’re both quite something. Rest assured, I won’t take a single cent from your company. This partnership is off.” With that, Mr. Prescott turned and walked away. Ethan frantically tried to explain, but Mr. Prescott simply got into his car and drove off. Ethan turned to me, so furious he kicked over the table. “Emily, were you doing this on purpose? Do you have any idea how important that deal was to the company?” I widened my eyes, feigning utter innocence. “But Ethan, I was just following company policy! Didn’t you and Bethany say it was twenty-five dollars per person? Spending more would be taking advantage of the company. Last time, I paid nine hundred and fifty dollars out of my own pocket; this time, I learned my lesson.” Ethan pointed at me, speechless with rage, and stormed away. The next day, as I arrived at the company, I ran into Bethany. She glanced at me, her tone superior. “Emily, how can you still show your face at the company after ruining such a huge project?” I remained unfazed. “How did I ruin it? I was simply following company policy, wasn’t I? Besides, didn’t you say the entertainment budget was twenty-five dollars per person?” Ethan emerged from his office, and Bethany immediately ran to hide behind him, her face a picture of wronged innocence. “Oh, Ethan, I just said a few things to Emily, and she’s blaming everything on me!” Ethan, full of concern, hugged Bethany. Then he threw a termination letter at my face. “Emily, you’re fired. Don’t bother coming back to the company anymore. Bethany will be taking over your position as General Manager.” I let out a soft laugh. “Alright. But according to my contract, you owe me three times my salary as compensation.” Ethan readily agreed, looking down at me with an air of smug superiority. “Emily, did you really think I wouldn’t dare fire you?” I was genuinely surprised, as most of the company’s projects were still under my management. Bethany clung to Ethan’s arm, a triumphant smirk on her face. “I happened to meet the CEO of Sterling Corp. They’re offering us a partnership for their billion-dollar Westside project. That one project is worth more than all the hundreds you brought in combined.” So, that was it. They thought I was no longer useful, that’s why they fired me. I thought for a moment. Sterling Corp… If I wasn’t mistaken, that was my grandfather’s company. Just a few days ago, my grandfather had asked me to come work for them, hinting that he wanted me to inherit the company someday. After transferring my severance pay, Ethan impatiently urged me to leave. “Emily, as of today, we’re over. You and I have nothing to do with each other anymore.” “Alright,” I said calmly. Ethan, seeing that I wasn’t crying or pleading, didn’t look entirely pleased. After leaving the company, I called my grandfather. “Grandpa, I got fired. I’d like to come work for your company.” My grandfather sounded ecstatic, barely able to contain his joy. “Wonderful! The company just happens to have an opening for a Junior VP. Come straight in.” The next day, I packed my things and headed directly to Sterling Corp. At the entrance, I ran into Ethan and Bethany.

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After I was brutally murdered by the Queen Consort, I found myself unexpectedly reborn into the body of another woman. To my astonishment, this person was intersex! Without hesitation, I pinned the haughty Queen Consort Charlotte Beaumont firmly beneath me. “You’re so desperate to conceive, aren’t you? Perhaps I can help you with that?” Watching the disheveled yet powerless Queen Consort struggle beneath me, I felt a surge of unadulterated pleasure. But that wasn’t all. My gaze soon turned to King Lysander, rumored to have a fondness for men. Leaning close, I pinched Charlotte’s chin and laid out my demand: “Queen Consort, take me to the palace. Bring me before His Majesty.” … In my previous life, I was but a lowly scullery maid, assigned to the chambers of Queen Consort Charlotte. She was a woman of narrow mind and volatile temperament, treating human lives as less than nothing. Merely because I was cracking walnuts by her side when she heard news of another consort’s pregnancy, she had me beaten to death with a staff on a baseless charge. The hatred that surged through me was visceral; my very organs twisted in agony as I bled out, unwilling to accept my fate. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, I found myself in a pitch-black, suffocating room. The air was damp and foul, thick with the stench of decay. I coughed violently, then turned to a dusty, tarnished bronze mirror in the corner, where I saw a face strikingly similar to Charlotte’s! Sensual eyes, a pert nose, delicate lips… a naturally intoxicating charm, indeed. It was six or seven parts Charlotte, but a tear mole beneath my left eye added a touch of alluring mystery that even she lacked. As I inhabited this new body, a flood of memories cascared into my mind. Once they settled, I understood: this body belonged to the true Lady Beaumont. However, due to a peculiar birth defect—being born intersex—the Beaumont family, desperate to preserve their reputation, had adopted Charlotte, who bore a close resemblance to me, to masquerade as their daughter. Under the family’s tutelage, Charlotte had blossomed into a remarkable young woman, while I, the true blood heir, was slowly forgotten, left to languish and rot in this desolate annex. But as Charlotte’s position solidified, she grew increasingly arrogant and cruel. To fuel her vanity, she would often visit me, her tone condescending, delighting in my misery. Even worse, she secretly orchestrated insidious attacks against me, using her loyal retainers. To be absolutely certain I wouldn’t pose a threat, she even drugged me, hoping to render me simple-minded and imbecilic. Recalling this, a fierce resolve hardened within me. Typical of the venomous Queen Consort; just as cruel in the family mansion as she was in the palace. My thoughts spun, and my hand instinctively reached down, confirming the presence of anatomy that shouldn’t be there. So, this was what being intersex truly meant! Appearing outwardly female, yet possessing both male and female reproductive capabilities! It was little wonder the Beaumonts had kept Celeste, the body I now inhabited, confined to such a damp, gloomy room. But at this thought, a sudden, mirthless laugh escaped me. Perhaps the world would deem an intersex person a monster, but to me, it was an unprecedented advantage. Rumors whispered that before his ascension, the King was a notorious rake, known for frequenting dens of illicit pleasures catering to peculiar tastes. They said he was infatuated with men, only taking concubines after becoming King to ensure an heir. Whether these rumors held any truth, I, having already died once, cared little. My only desire was revenge, no matter the cost. A grand plan for vengeance began to form in my mind! At that moment, I heard footsteps outside and a familiar, arrogant voice, laced with mockery: “Let’s see if my unsightly sister is still breathing.” As light streamed in from the doorway, I saw her, exactly as she was in my past life’s memories: the dazzling Queen Consort Charlotte Beaumont. She held a perfumed handkerchief to her nose, her face contorted in disgust. “Are you living and relieving yourself in this room now? You reek!” I stared at her, unwavering, and then a slow smile spread across my face. My voice, unused for so long, came out raspy and unpleasant: “Sister Charlotte, come closer. Come closer, I have a secret to tell you.” She fixed her gaze on me, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What secret could you possibly have? I already know your biggest one.” I merely smiled wider. “But don’t you want to know why you haven’t conceived a child after all this time? I have a method that can help you.” Conception was Charlotte’s greatest anxiety in my past life. Predictably, the moment I uttered those words, Charlotte’s interest was piqued. She dismissed the maids who had accompanied her. “You all may withdraw. Lady Celeste and I have a few private matters to discuss.” Then, alone, she stepped into my squalid little room. “What method? Tell me quickly… Ah!” Charlotte demanded impatiently, but her last word was abruptly cut short. Catching her off guard, I lunged, seizing her wrists and binding her hands and feet. Just as I’d anticipated, this body possessed the strength of a young man. Charlotte’s eyes widened in terror. “What are you doing?!” I gave a menacing chuckle, then, in the most innocent tone, I whispered, “Sister Charlotte, you want to be with child, don’t you? I can get you pregnant. Have you forgotten… I also possess that?” Charlotte’s composure completely shattered. Fear and terror erased all traces of her usual grace. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Ah! Help! Someone… Mmph! Don’t… Help!” But no matter how she cried out, I clamped my hand over her mouth, my eyes burning with pure hatred. “Scream all you want, dear sister. I have nothing to lose, so I’m not afraid of you who has everything! At worst, we both go down together.” If fate had granted me this rebirth, I swore I would exact every ounce of revenge for myself and for the real Celeste—all the bitterness, all the humiliation. I would make her suffer beyond measure. With that thought, I put my full strength into it, and the sudden sound of tearing fabric ripped through the stale air. Charlotte seemed to guess my intention; her face went ashen, and she shrieked, “Get away! Get away… Ah!” I paid no heed, consumed by a furious resolve. Listening to her heart-wrenching screams, I felt nothing but grim satisfaction. In my previous life, when I was executed, I had pleaded and begged her, but she had turned a deaf ear, ordering me gagged and kicking me aside. Now, I was simply repaying the debt. I would not relent. I tormented Charlotte for a long, long time. So long that she wept and begged for mercy, so long that her tears ran dry, so long that the proud light vanished from her eyes. I had truly ground her into the dirt, watching the once haughty Queen Consort descend into a state of disheveled, dazed despair. In that moment, I understood the profound sense of dominance a man felt over a woman; now, I was dominating Charlotte. Leaning close, I pinched her face and issued my demand: “Charlotte Beaumont, take me to the palace. Bring me before the King.” I couldn’t simply let her go. I had to enter the palace. I wanted to be in her presence every single day; a simple act of revenge wouldn’t be enough to quell the hatred of both myself and the true Celeste. Charlotte’s eyes were unfocused, yet at the mention of “the King,” she instinctively looked at me. “No, impossible! I will never let a freak like you appear before His Majesty! You’re unworthy! You’re a monster!” Her true nature, unchanged. I narrowed my eyes, observing her reaction. It seems her affection for the King is indeed profound. All the more reason for me to enter the palace. Her threats and insults meant nothing to me. I grabbed her hair. Every extra word she uttered was met with a stronger tug on her scalp. “If you don’t bring me to the palace, I will tell the whole world what we did today! I’ll tell them how you begged and cried. And don’t think of killing me to silence me. Even if the Beaumonts abandoned me, they won’t simply ignore my death.” At my words, Charlotte’s face contorted in fear. She dissolved into tears, cursing me: “You maniac! You’ll rot in hell!” I thought she was a pot calling the kettle black. “Charlotte Beaumont, have you forgotten your past cruelties against me? Who was it that scorned my body from childhood, calling me a monster, driving me to self-loathing and despair? Who drugged me to make me simple-minded, and encouraged our parents to lock me away in this dark room? Wasn’t it all you? Have you not wronged me enough?” I flung these accusations at her, relentless. Charlotte recoiled, trembling, unable to utter a single word, merely staring at me with wide, terrified eyes. Seeing her disheveled and bruised, I finally felt a measure of vindication. “Take me to the palace, or we will both be destroyed. You choose.” In the royal carriage on the way back to the palace, Charlotte huddled beside me, trembling, softly pleading. “I’ve agreed to take you back to the palace. You mustn’t betray me and speak of those… unpleasant things. Please, I beg you.” My expression remained impassive. “Depends on your performance.” One sentence silenced Charlotte completely. Upon entering the palace, I smoothly met King Lysander in her chambers. The moment our eyes met, his were filled with a mixture of awe and delight. “Queen Consort, who is this? How can someone rival your breathtaking beauty?” I feigned a gentle, demure demeanor and lied that I was her distant cousin. All the while, King Lysander’s gaze remained fixed on me, completely disregarding Charlotte. Soon, Charlotte sensed the shift in attention and secretly warned me to behave. But I paid her no mind, immediately setting about charming King Lysander. “Your Majesty, perhaps you would grace the Clouded Pavilion tonight? Your humble servant promises you a delightful surprise.” Upon hearing this, King Lysander’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. That evening, I donned the most exquisitely crafted gown from Charlotte’s chambers and made my way to the Clouded Pavilion. Before long, a slightly tipsy King Lysander arrived. The moment he saw me, he wrapped his arms around my waist without a word, pulling me close. I leaned into him, feigning a gentle resistance. “Your Majesty, will you stay here tonight?” His kiss, smelling faintly of wine, descended upon me. His low voice rumbled, “My darling Celeste, since I’ve come tonight, I have no intention of leaving. But… where is this surprise you promised?” His tone was laced with seductive suggestion, and I, in turn, fixed him with an even more alluring gaze. “That, Your Majesty, you must uncover yourself in my chambers. Otherwise, where would the surprise be?” No sooner had the words left my lips than King Lysander swept me into his arms. He carried me swiftly to the bed, his movements eager. In the dim lamplight, I revealed myself completely, holding nothing back. When King Lysander saw what lay before him, his hands visibly trembled. “You… you are a man?” I smiled, pinching his chin playfully, and teased, “Your Majesty, you didn’t look closely enough. Take another look. I am, of course, a woman. But I can also be a man.” King Lysander’s eyes widened in disbelief, his gaze fixed on my unique anatomy. Soon, he visibly swallowed, his eyes now holding a hint of longing and even envy. I smiled, knowing the fish had taken the bait. It seemed the whispers about the King’s preference for men were indeed true. So I leaned close to his ear, whispering softly to provoke him: “Does Your Majesty approve?” His eager movements and a torrent of kisses were his only reply. That night, the bed curtains swayed gently, and the red candles flickered in the dancing shadows. But by the latter half of the night, his stamina clearly waned, bringing an end to the night’s debauchery. As I was about to close my eyes for sleep, I suddenly heard him lean in close, his voice a low, panting whisper: “Celeste, would you… would you like to be on top?” The air stilled for a moment. Hearing his words, my eyes snapped open, fixed unblinkingly on him. On the surface, he was asking if I wanted to take the dominant position, but implicitly, it revealed King Lysander’s desire to be the submissive one. He actually wanted to be the one beneath? My heart jolted with shock, yet I maintained a calm facade. “Does Your Majesty wish for it?” I countered.

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When I went home for the holidays, my parents told me they wanted to introduce me to a foreign millionaire. But the moment we landed in Dubai, their faces changed. My brother, Mark, ripped up my passport. They forced me into a car, driving deep into the desert. I watched the familiar landscape flash by, begging them to turn back, to take me home, not to go any further. Mark just laughed, telling me to stop struggling, that if I behaved, I might just keep my life. My eyes were wide with terror, but not for myself. It was them who were going to die. They had no idea. Just last month, I’d escaped this very place. My performance had been so exceptional, my boss had specially granted me leave to go home for the holidays. I never imagined I’d barely escaped, only to be sent right back. 1 Looking out at the vast stretches of yellow sand through the car window, to an ordinary person, it would look like any other desert. But I knew. We were getting closer and closer to The Oasis —— Scam Compounds. Once you entered that place, it took immense effort to get out. I’d barely managed to escape last month, and now I was going back. Who knew if I’d get out again for years? The thought sent a jolt through me, and I immediately began to struggle violently. “Let me out! Are you insane? This is the desert! Where’s this foreign millionaire?!” My mother pinched the soft flesh of my waist with a vicious twist, making me cry out instantly. “You little bitch, behave yourself!” My brother, Mark, swung his arm, slapping me hard across the face. My vision swam, and my cheek stung with a fiery pain. “You haven’t been back in eight years. If you hadn’t suddenly shown up at our door, we would’ve forgotten you even existed.” He scoffed. “You’ve been living the high life out there, while I haven’t even scraped together enough for my wedding expenses. It’s perfect, the compound needs people. You go in, and my expenses will finally be covered.” My head reeled, but hearing his words, a mocking smile twisted my lips. The notorious Oasis. Anyone who entered, either complied and became a money-making machine, or they were left to rot in the desert, an unidentifiable mummified corpse. From the moment they stepped foot in this desert, going back was no longer an option. Seeing my smile, Mark burst into laughter. “Scared speechless, aren’t you, you fool?” My father, in the front seat, nervously twisted his head to look at me when he heard this, then cautioned Mark, “Go easy on her. She won’t be worth anything if you knock her senseless!” “Don’t worry,” Mark chuckled. “Women are incredibly useful. With her physique, she can pop out ten, maybe eight kids, no problem. If she can’t, we’ll just strip her for parts. That’s another fortune.” I remembered a woman who entered the compound at the same time as me. She’d constantly screamed about wanting out, tried to escape several times, and each time, she was dragged back. The last time, all her organs were harvested, and she came out as nothing but a thin husk of a person. To warn us new recruits, the boss had thrown her remains at our feet, telling us that if anyone else tried to run, that would be their fate. I stared at those empty eye sockets and made a decision. The next day, I threw myself into the work. It took me eight years, working nonstop, to finally become the compound’s top earner, gradually becoming the boss’s right-hand person, the respected Tina to everyone in The Oasis. “You’d best let me go now. Otherwise, you’ll all regret it.” I warned them again. 2 “You filthy bitch, still daring to threaten us? Got some guts, do you?” Mark exploded, grabbing my hair and repeatedly slamming my head against the car window. My head was bleeding, but the glass remained unharmed. I struggled violently, my hands flailing wildly, my feet kicking everywhere. The car instantly erupted into chaos. My eyes were blurred with blood; I couldn’t see anything, only heard my mother yelp in pain, then start cursing me. Mark grabbed my hands, trying to restrain me. “Quick, tie her up! Now!” My father handed him a leather belt from the front. The three of them bore down on me, finally managing to bind me. Mark spat a thick gob of phlegm on my face, then landed a few more punches. “Try moving again! I dare you! I’ll kill you, you hear me?!” “Alright, don’t hit her face. Hit other places. Grim needs to see her face later,” my father interjected. I knew the ‘Grim’ he spoke of. Just yesterday, he and I had been chatting on the phone. I immediately blurted out, “Let me go now! When Grim sees how you’re treating me, he’ll kill you, believe me!” “I know you want to sell me to The Oasis for a finder’s fee. I can give you money. I have a few million in my account, I’ll give it all to you. Turn the car around now!” I’d always known this family was rotten, which was why I’d cut ties with them early on. But the methods used in the compound were truly horrifying. Still, blood was thicker than water, and I couldn’t bear to see them suffer such unspeakable torment. Hearing about several million dollars, Mark’s eyes lit up. He had only torn up my passport and taken my phone. As for the bank cards in my bag, they hadn’t paid them any mind. Now, knowing I had money, my mother immediately retrieved the forgotten bag from the car’s corner, rummaged through it, and indeed found my bank cards. “Son, I found them! Quick, ask her for the PIN!” Mark scoffed dismissively. “Are you stupid? You believe her just because she says she has money? Did she rob a bank? How could she earn millions in eight years?!” At his words, my mother’s initially joyous expression instantly fell. The next second, she gritted her teeth and kicked me. “You little bitch, still daring to lie to me.” “Check it then! There’s really money in there! At this point, why would I lie to you? You won’t lose anything by checking!” I roared at these fools. Mark, hearing me, looked slightly less skeptical. He immediately pulled out his phone, ready to check the account. Mark tapped on his phone, his expression frozen for a few seconds, then his eyes widened, and he burst out laughing. “What’s so funny, you brat? Lost your mind?” Mark lit a cigarette, still laughing, and handed the phone to my father in the front. Everyone saw the string of numbers on the screen, and the car instantly filled with an air of joyful greed. But I was in no mood to listen to them laugh, because I could feel it: we were very close to The Oasis now. “Turn around now! When we get back to the country, I’ll take you to withdraw the money. It’ll all be yours!” My father chuckled. “Alright, alright, turn around. We’re going back, no compound.” I breathed a sigh of relief, but the next second, Mark’s words sent my heart plummeting again. “Turn around for what? Are you stupid? We already agreed with Grim. How many lives do you have to stand him up?” He looked at me. “Just tell me the PIN, and I might put in a good word for you with Grim.” I glared at him, my eyes burning. “Go to hell! Want the PIN? Dream on!” I spat out a mouthful of blood. “When I get in there, you’ll all be dead!” I understood now. This family was a nest of vipers. The Oasis was their best, final destination! 3 Mark, seeing I still dared to defy him, grabbed my hair, forced my mouth open, and shoved the still-lit cigarette butt inside. “Won’t talk, huh? Then you’ll never talk again!” He clamped his hand over my mouth, preventing me from spitting out the cigarette. The scorching butt seared my mouth before slowly extinguishing. My mother worried, “Son, how will we get the money without the PIN?” “What’s there to fear? We have her family registration documents. We’re her next of kin. We can withdraw the money without a PIN.” At this, everyone relaxed. Not only would they get my money, but they’d also get the finder’s fee for delivering me. My father proudly gave a thumbs-up, and the group began planning how to spend their new fortune. There was nothing more to say now. Just my bad luck; my holiday was ruined. The car soon slowed down. I knew this meant we were entering The Oasis. Mark pulled out his phone, ready to call the contact person. “Grim, we’ve arrived. We’ve brought the person. Don’t worry.” “Good, good. We’ll wait in the car for you. Take your time, take your time.” I lay in the car, unable to see outside, relying only on my hearing. Soon, hurried footsteps approached. The car door was yanked open, and two men climbed in, pulling me out. It was then I realized there were several other vehicles entering the compound with us. A dozen or so people, men and women, were being led out. Some hadn’t grasped the gravity of the situation and immediately started yelling. I was used to this scene. Grim looked impatient. He drew a loaded pistol from his waist and walked towards the loudest protester. “Grim, you bastard! Let me go now!” I yelled at him. Grim was the captain in charge of transporting the “piglets,” essentially the Chief Enforcer of The Oasis. Anyone disobedient who went through his hands, no matter how stubborn, would eventually fall in line. No sooner had I spoken than Mark kicked me down. “Sarah Stone, you’ve grown guts, haven’t you? Daring to insult Grim? I’ll cut out your tongue, you hear me?!” Punches rained down on me. I curled up on the ground, gritting my teeth, making no sound. Grim had been walking towards me, but seeing Mark lay a hand on me, he stopped. After a moment, he slowly spoke: “Stop.” After the beating, my face was covered in blood and dirt; my features were completely indistinguishable. I was getting desperate. I knew this man’s capabilities. I tried to speak quickly, but the cigarette had burned large blisters in my mouth, making my voice hoarse. “It’s me, Tina! Look closely!” My mother slapped my mouth. “Sarah Stone, that’s my name for you! Try acting up again, I dare you!” Her sharp, long fingernails tore at my lips, and soon, blood trickled out. When I first entered The Oasis, to facilitate management, everyone had to adopt an English name. I chose Tina. Everyone here called me Tina, no one knew my real name was actually Sarah Stone. 4 Grim’s expression tightened when he heard the name ‘Tina.’ Mark at that moment pulled out a cigarette and offered it to him. “Grim, my sister here is disobedient. I’d appreciate it if you could teach her a good lesson.” “What’s your sister’s real name?” “Just Sarah Stone.” My mouth was too swollen to speak. Grim waved his hand, and someone immediately led us away. Mark and my parents were left outside. I only heard Mark cautiously ask Grim, “Grim, when can we get the money?” “What’s the rush? She still needs a medical exam. What if she has an infectious disease? Don’t worry, I’m not short a few bucks for your cut.” Mark, who had just been acting tough in front of me, was now bowing and scraping to Grim like a lapdog. I was locked into a makeshift cell with the dozen or so people who had arrived with me. As the name implied, this enclosure had once held dogs. Everyone inside was forced to curl up, squeezed together like canines. The stench of sweat mixed with the metallic smell of blood assaulted my nostrils. Somewhere, someone was sobbing quietly. This was just the first step: draining all their energy this way made them easier to control later. I don’t know how long passed. I could no longer feel my limbs. The sounds of the others around me gradually faded. Finally, the outer door opened. Grim walked in, and a few of his henchmen stepped forward to unlock the cell. Clearly, a dog cage wasn’t enough to extinguish a human’s will to survive. A few people, once released, immediately shoved those around them and bolted for the main gate. Grim pulled out his pistol and shot one of them in the thigh. At that, everyone else froze, too terrified to move. “Why run? I’m not some villain. As long as you listen, our boss will help you all make a fortune.” He pointed his gun to the sky. “But if you don’t listen… I have plenty of ways to handle you.” These people had never seen a gun up close. They were all scared stiff, afraid to move, only able to comply. We were divided into two groups, men and women, and taken to separate rooms. Men and women had different uses here. All the women were stripped of their clothes, and naked photos were taken. I’d already been through this; it didn’t faze me anymore. Next was a series of medical examinations. After confirming that none of us had infectious diseases, we finally reached the last step: meeting the boss. We were led to a spacious area. Derek Thorne emerged, surrounded by his men. I seized my chance and immediately rushed forward, but my body was covered in injuries, and I couldn’t run fast. One of his men immediately swung a baseball bat, striking me across the leg. A hoarse scream ripped from my throat. Derek Thorne glanced at me, then asked Grim, “What’s going on here?” “My fault, my fault. I didn’t train her well enough.” Grim walked towards me with a stun baton. The current surged through my body, and for a moment, I thought I smelled burning flesh. “Don’t expect any bonus this month,” Derek Thorne said coolly. Grim looked as if he wanted to tear me limb from limb. “Damn it, drag her down and break her!” Grim was terrified of being implicated and ordered his men to act quickly. At that moment, Derek Thorne raised his hand, stopping the others. “Wait!”

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Seven years of marriage, seven times I was dragged into that alley. The seventh time, my body broken, blood pooling beneath me, they dumped me in a dumpster like refuse. It wasn’t until he saw the scene, a chilling replica of that night so long ago, that Ryan Harris, my husband, finally emerged from the alley’s mouth. He ordered his men to seize the thugs who had ruined his sister’s life all those years ago. He glanced at my dying form, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, but it quickly congealed into icy mockery. “Enjoy yourself this time, Maya?” he sneered. “You owe me, Maya Thorne!” His men, witnessing my horrific state, panicked. One immediately fumbled for his phone, dialing 911. Ryan, however, slapped the phone away with a dismissive wave, his voice a low, furious growl. “Don’t just stand there! Take her to identify the assailants!” I silently closed my eyes, allowing them to haul me away, but tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. The endless nightmares of the past seven years finally made sense today. Ryan Harris, what I owed you, I have now repaid in full. … I jolted awake from the dream, my legs aflame with a searing, agonizing pain. When I opened my eyes, a parade of grotesque, leering faces still swirled behind my eyelids, refusing to fade. “What’s wrong? Not satisfied? Still dreaming about it?” Ryan’s voice dripped with scorn from the chair beside my bed. Seraphina Blackwood, his childhood friend, nestled comfortably in his arms, chimed in, her tone equally venomous. “Maya Thorne, you truly are despicable! If Ryan ignores you, you just run off to those thugs for a thrill? Could it be you’re addicted? You actually enjoy that kind of… attention?” She paused, a malicious glint in her eyes. “Otherwise, after six times, why would you pretend to be so innocent, only to doll yourself up and rush to meet Ryan every time he called?” Yes, I was such a fool. How could I have ever believed he was finally opening his heart to me again? Last night, Ryan had called me to that same dreaded alley. Despite a growing unease, I went, clinging to a sliver of hope. And just as before, endless torment awaited me. I screamed his name, desperate for him to hear, to save me. But instead, through blurred eyes, I saw him and Seraphina locked in a passionate embrace at the alley’s entrance. An entire hour passed. Only when the thugs were done and preparing to leave did he finally appear with his men. By then, blood stained my lower body, and my abdomen was wracked with violent cramps. Realizing I hadn’t had my period in two months, I struggled, reaching out a trembling hand to Ryan, pleading for help. “Ryan… the hospital… I think… I’m having a miscarriage…” Ryan’s brows furrowed, but Seraphina quickly wrapped her arm around his, her gaze raking over me with disdain. “Sister, you must have been having too much fun just now! Your face practically screams how much you enjoyed it!” She laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. “And heaven truly is kind to you. Good riddance, honestly. It would just be a bastard child anyway! Isn’t one illegitimate brat enough already?” The pain in my stomach was too overwhelming to fight back. I could only look at Ryan, my eyes pleading. But he turned away, leaving me with a cold, cutting remark: “Maya Thorne, when did you become so utterly depraved?” Yet, he seemed to forget that the last time I’d been dragged into that alley was a year ago. How could this possibly be someone else’s child? The hospital room door creaked open, pulling my thoughts back to the present. The doctor entered to examine me. The sheet was pulled back, and a wave of ice slammed into me. My mind went blank, a void of horror, as tears, hot and fat, streamed down my face. Lying there, on the stark white hospital bed, were only the stumps of what used to be my legs. I lunged for the doctor, my arms flailing, screaming hysterically. “Doctor, my legs? Where are my legs?” The doctor looked at me with a pained expression. “Your legs… they were shattered yesterday.” She hesitated, then continued, her voice soft. “You were unconscious. Your husband, perhaps fearing complications, chose… amputation.” Amputation? Ryan knew, better than anyone, that I was a dancer. Amputation meant the end of my life. I tried to lunge towards Ryan, only to collapse to the floor. He didn’t move, just watched me, his eyes blazing with a horrifying, bloodshot intensity. “You’ve only lost your legs, Maya. But what about my sister? My mother? Trading your useless limbs for two lives… you got off easy!” My heart felt as though it had been stabbed with a bayonet. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my flesh, drawing blood. “Ryan Harris, what I owed you, I have repaid.” The day I was discharged, I went straight back to the Harris mansion to pack my belongings. Six-year-old Leo stood by my side, his clothes tattered, his small body covered in bruises, yet his eyes burned with a defiant fire. I said nothing, only took his hand and started to walk out. Just then, Seraphina walked in, arm in arm with Ryan. Seeing us holding hands, Seraphina’s lips curled into a sneer. “Well, well, look at the loving mother and son act. Such deep maternal bonds, aren’t they? And to think, my dear ‘sister,’ you just had to keep this bastard child.” The word “bastard” ignited a spark in Leo. He transformed into a tiny, furious beast, lunging at Seraphina. But his small frame was no match for Ryan, who slapped him across the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. “Maya Thorne, this is the bastard you’ve raised!” Ryan snarled. “Like father, like son, indeed!” This son… Ryan had forced me to have him. Shortly after the first time I was dragged into that alley, I discovered I was pregnant. I wanted to terminate the pregnancy, but Ryan wouldn’t allow it. He assigned bodyguards to watch me twenty-four hours a day, forcing me to carry the child to term. I knew, of course, that this was his punishment. A punishment for me to remember my ‘sins’ for the rest of my life. But I never imagined his punishment would be so relentless. Especially after he started his affair with Seraphina, he tormented me ceaselessly, pushing me deeper and deeper into the abyss. “What are you doing with that suitcase?” Ryan finally noticed my luggage by my side, kicking it over with a furious boot. “You think you can just leave before you’ve atoned for your sins?” Clothes spilled across the floor, and a small, ornate box flew out, striking the wall with a sharp CRACK. Inside, what I knew to be Kate’s favorite silver locket, the one she’d given me before… before everything, lay shattered into a dozen pieces. Ryan’s eyes went bloodshot as he instantly recognized the locket. “Maya Thorne, you even stoop to stealing? That was my sister’s most cherished locket!” SLAP! A stinging blow across my face. I stared at him, my gaze unwavering, my voice defiant. “I didn’t steal it. She gave it to me.” Ryan’s rage only intensified. “You’re still lying?” he roared. “You were jealous her dancing was better than yours, so you orchestrated her assault, had her legs broken, and now you steal her locket! Do you want everything she had?” He turned to the servants. “Someone! Remove her prosthetics! Make her kneel before my sister’s memorial and confess her sins!” Several servants rushed forward, seizing my arms. They yanked off my artificial limbs, forcing me to the ground. The unhealed incisions on my stumps rubbed against the floor, instantly oozing blood. The excruciating pain made me writhe and twist, but without my prosthetics, I lost my balance, swaying uncontrollably. Seraphina watched, laughing hysterically. “Brother, look at her! Doesn’t she look like a roly-poly doll?” She mocked, “Sister, you may not be able to dance anymore, but you could always join the circus as a clown!” The servants snickered along with her. Leo stood nearby, his eyes colder than ice. Seraphina, still not satisfied, stepped forward and shoved me. I swayed again, then toppled over, falling flat. My arm struck Kate’s memorial plaque, and in an instant, her urn tumbled down, shattering on the floor. Her ashes scattered into the air like a ghostly mist. Seeing Kate’s remains desecrated, Seraphina looked momentarily flustered, then quickly pointed a finger. “Maya Thorne, you killed my sister, and now you can’t even leave her ashes in peace! You want to obliterate every last trace of her!” Ryan seized my collar, hoisting me into the air, his teeth grinding together. “Maya Thorne! My sister treated you so kindly! Why? Why would you do this to her? What deep-seated hatred did you harbor against her?” He stared at me, the fury in his eyes threatening to consume me whole. I looked back at the man before me, now utterly consumed by his rage, and shook my head repeatedly, tears blurring my vision. After a long, agonizing silence, Ryan abruptly slammed me back down to the ground. “Let her kneel here all night,” he snarled. “Tomorrow, on my sister’s memorial, she’ll atone for her sins personally!” I was held down, the shattered pieces of the urn digging into my raw stumps, instantly staining the pristine white carpet crimson. My consciousness began to blur. After hours of agonizing kneeling, I finally succumbed to the pain and passed out. Seven years ago, Ryan and I were the golden couple, the envy of everyone. His sister, Kate, and I were particularly close, both members of the same dance troupe. That day, Kate and I were heading to a long-awaited dance competition, our golden ticket into the prestigious National Dance Company. Everything was going smoothly until the evening ended. In a hurry, I led her down a shortcut, where we encountered a group of drunk, burly men. We screamed for help, but our mouths were quickly gagged with cloths. Dark, menacing hands began to invade. When we were discovered the next morning, Kate’s back and legs were completely broken. She had been folded in half and thrown into a dumpster, barely clinging to life. I, too, was covered in bruises, unconscious on the ground. The doctors said Kate’s legs were shattered; she would never dance again. Unable to bear the shock, she jumped from a building, taking her own life. Ryan’s mother, heartbroken, suffered a fatal heart attack shortly after. Overnight, Ryan lost two of his closest family members. And the only spot in Veridia City’s National Dance Company, ironically, fell to me. Suddenly, rumors spread like wildfire. Everyone whispered that I had orchestrated the tragedy to secure my place. After all, she was the only one whose legs were broken. From that day on, Ryan became a different man. And I chose to deceive myself, to silently bear the burden. After all, if I hadn’t chosen that shortcut, his sister wouldn’t have died. A jolt of icy water splashed onto my face, snapping me awake from my unconsciousness. “Brother, look at her! You told her to kneel and confess, and she’s just taking a nap! And she’s made such a mess on the floor! What will the guests think when they come for the memorial? They’ll think we always treat Kate like this!” Ryan was about to unleash his fury when a servant rushed in from outside, breathless. “Mr. Harris, Mr. Harris! It’s terrible! A mob of reporters outside, making a huge fuss! They say they’re here to report on Mrs. Harris!” Ryan’s gaze snapped to me, his eyes shooting daggers of ice. Seraphina, quick to interject, said, “Brother, she probably called the reporters herself, hoping to clear her name! She wants to play the victim!” Ryan glanced at me, a cruel smirk curving his lips. “Maya Thorne, my sister was the victim, and yet you want to play martyr? Fine! I’ll let everyone know who really caused my sister’s death!” He paused, a chilling glint in his eye. “And those video clips from the past few years, with you and those petty thugs? I’ve kept every single one!” He pointed a finger, his voice rising to a furious command. “Now! Project them onto the main screen!” Instantly, the massive screen in the memorial hall lit up, displaying video clips of me and those thugs. Whether it was due to editing or camera angles, my expressions in the videos were… unsettling. The entire room erupted into whispers and murmurs. “Look at her, that slutty expression! It’s true what they say, she wanted to be violated!” “What? How could anyone be so sick? She enjoys being forced?” “Haven’t you heard? Mr. Harris barely touches her. She must have been so desperate, it drove her insane!” “Considering all this, maybe she was the one who arranged what happened to Mr. Harris’s sister! Otherwise, why is she perfectly fine while his sister is gone?” I watched the looping footage, seven years of painful memories flooding my mind. I buried my face in my hands, squeezing my eyes shut, desperate to escape. When I finally dared to look up, I met Ryan’s icy gaze. “What’s wrong? Ashamed now?” he taunted. “Where was that shame when you were ‘enjoying’ yourself?” Unexpectedly, Seraphina, in front of everyone, seemed to defend me. “Brother, don’t be too angry. Today is Kate’s memorial, and she wouldn’t be happy seeing such a commotion. Perhaps I should take ‘Sister’ to change her clothes first, then she can properly apologize to Kate. After all, she’s wearing a red dress, which isn’t really appropriate.”

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Tim Winslow, the notorious scion of Veridia City, found amusement in live-streaming his conquests. After publicly marking our intimacy on a live stream, his affections veered. He brazenly cast his new girl as the lead in my movie, demoting me, an award-winning actress, to a mere prop. To add insult to injury, he even wrote in a scene where I was to be physically assaulted. “You’re a veteran, Miya. It’s only right you guide the young lady, isn’t it?” And so, under the scrutiny of countless eyes, I endured over twenty open-handed slaps. When the young woman feigned illness, claiming my aura was too dark, Tim called in a mystic who pierced me with 999 silver needles to “cleanse” my spirit. Tim’s friends tried to warn him against taking things too far. The man merely chuckled. “So what? She begged me on her knees to be with me.” “Without me, her brother would have been dead long ago!” But what he didn’t know was that I had already packed my brother Caleb’s urn, along with my plane ticket to France, into my suitcase. 1. Before leaving for France, I had one last scene to film. Because of that scene, Tim’s new darling, Seraphina Blackwood, slapped me over twenty times. I faced the dressing room mirror, dabbing my raw, stinging cheek with a cotton swab soaked in saline solution. A fiery pain spread across my skin. I couldn’t use antiseptic; I still had another scene. The marks of over twenty slaps blossomed on my face. Gritting my teeth, I applied another layer of foundation. “Ms. Thorne… are you alright?” The makeup artist asked cautiously, her voice laced with confusion. How could Miya Thorne, an Oscar-winning actress, be so consumed by love that she allowed her boyfriend’s kept mistress to walk all over her? I shook my head, reassuring her. But how could I have ever imagined that one day I’d be repeatedly slapped by a newcomer, barely out of acting school? And my boyfriend sat behind the monitor, watching it all unfold, without even a flicker of concern. Back on set, Seraphina Blackwood was perched on Tim’s lap, giggling coyly, a grape dangling from her lips, poised to feed him. Tim caught my eye, a provocative smirk playing on his lips, then leaned down and captured Seraphina’s red lips in a kiss. The crew immediately averted their gazes, knowing better than to challenge the scion of the powerful Winslow family, who held sway over half the entertainment industry. “Miss Blackwood says real slaps make it feel more authentic…” The assistant director offered a simpering smile. “Ms. Thorne, your acting is superb, you’ll surely handle it. Miss Blackwood says she’s found her rhythm now, this scene will be over quickly, no retakes!” “Why would Ms. Thorne mind?” Seraphina batted her innocent eyes, stepping in front of me. Tim remained seated, a faint, unreadable smile on his face. He said nothing, which meant he approved. “Action!” The first slap landed with full force, my head snapped to the side, my eardrums rang, and the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ms. Thorne! I got too into character! Please, just one more chance! I learn so quickly!” she cooed, her apology sickeningly sweet. The second slap followed, then the third… Seraphina’s strikes grew more fluid, more confident with each blow. Sometimes her nails grazed my eyelids, stinging so badly I couldn’t open my eyes. The set was silent, everyone holding their breath, their gazes darting between us and Tim. His eyes were as cold and distant as if he were watching a performance that had nothing to do with him. I don’t know how many more slaps I endured, but soon I could barely stand. The pain was excruciating, and I instinctively flinched away. “Ah!” Seraphina suddenly shrieked dramatically, throwing herself to my side. Her elbow hit the ground, immediately blooming with a faint red mark. The set erupted into a commotion. “Miya!” Tim shot to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor with a deafening screech. He roughly shoved me aside, kneeling to tend to Seraphina. “Are you alright?” I stumbled back several steps, my back slamming into a camera tripod, making me gasp in pain. But no one noticed me. All eyes were on Seraphina. “Mr. Winslow, it hurts so much…” Seraphina’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. She held up her elbow, displaying the almost invisible “injury.” “Ms. Thorne suddenly moved, and I lost my balance…” Tim turned his head, glaring at me, his eyes sharp as daggers. “Miya, did you do that on purpose?” I opened my mouth, but my throat was so dry no sound emerged. My cheek was swollen, blood trickling from the corner of my lips, while the faint red mark on Seraphina’s elbow would likely vanish within five minutes. “I…” I began to explain, but Tim impatiently waved his hand, cutting me off. “Enough!” He swept Seraphina into his arms, his movements as gentle as if she were made of glass. “That’s enough for today. Director Davies, reschedule Miya’s scenes. Film the others first.” He strode out, and as he passed me, he delivered a chilling parting shot: “You’d better think carefully about how you’re going to apologize.” Everyone bowed their heads, avoiding eye contact with me. I stood there, feeling the stinging pain in my cheek and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth, suddenly finding it all ridiculously absurd. 2. Half an hour later, I sat alone in the dressing room, an ice pack pressed against my swollen, throbbing face. Footsteps and hushed voices drifted from outside the door. “Mr. Winslow specifically called his family doctor for Seraphina’s elbow. I heard he even personally fed her painkillers,” a woman gossiped. “Tsk, tsk, Ms. Thorne truly fell hard this time,” another voice chimed in, tinged with schadenfreude. “She’s an Oscar winner, a three-time Aurelian Award recipient, how did she end up like this?” “This entertainment world is just a playground for the rich,” someone sighed, lowering their voice. “What good is Miya Thorne’s talent? At the end of the day, she’s just an actress. Can all her effort compare to a single word from Mr. Winslow?” I took a deep breath, pulled my phone from my bag, and dialed an international number. After hanging up, confirming that he would pick me up tomorrow night, I finally felt a sense of peace. I then returned to the Winslow estate to pack my bags. My fingers still trembled slightly as I pushed open the villa’s front door. I would be leaving tomorrow night. This return was only to secretly retrieve Caleb’s photograph. In the entryway, Seraphina’s high heels lay haphazardly, as if the two of them had been too eager to waste a moment. I stepped over them, my face expressionless, and headed towards the study on the second floor. Every corner of this villa bore the mark of my own hands, my own careful touches. I had once truly considered this place my home. But ever since Seraphina entered our lives, Tim had transformed. Three months ago, I was rushed to the hospital, hovering between life and death after an acute pancreatitis attack, triggered by drinking with investors on his behalf. And Tim? He was with Seraphina, setting off fireworks on the beach. When the nurse delivered this news, I lay curled on my hospital bed, a feeding tube in my stomach, writhing in pain. “Mr. Winslow said the fireworks were pre-ordered and non-refundable,” my assistant mumbled, barely daring to meet my eyes. Last month, on Caleb’s memorial day, I prepared to burn offerings in the yard as usual, but Tim ordered everyone to clear it out. “Seraphina is easily frightened; she can’t stand such things,” he frowned, snatching the bouquet from my hand and tossing it into the trash. “Mourning the dead inside the house? Aren’t you worried it will bring bad luck?” Pushing open the study door, my heart plummeted. The photograph on the bookshelf was gone. I frantically searched every drawer, then Tim’s light chuckle drifted to me. “Looking for this?” Tim leaned casually against the doorframe, holding a photograph torn in half – it was Caleb, taken at his college graduation, wearing his cap and gown, his smile as bright as sunshine. And now, that cherished photo was cruelly ripped, Caleb’s smiling face split in two. “Tim!” I lunged to snatch it back, but he easily evaded me. “I told you, no such things are allowed in this house,” he said coldly, scattering the remaining pieces onto the floor. “Seraphina started having nightmares the moment she came back. I knew you must be hiding something inauspicious like this.” I knelt on the floor, helplessly trying to piece the fragments together. Through all the humiliation, through Seraphina’s slaps, I hadn’t cried. I tried to hold it in, but tears spilled down my face, defiant and unstoppable. “Why… why would you do this…” All these years, to help Tim expand his network, I’d drunk myself into stomach bleeds more times than I could count on both hands. At Tim’s word, I allowed Seraphina to slap me senseless in public! Tim impatiently stood up. “Enough! You always get so dramatic when your brother is mentioned. Don’t put on a sob show here. Seraphina will wake up soon, you need to quickly get rid of these cursed things—” “Who the hell is Seraphina Blackwood?” I interrupted him, my voice suddenly rising. “A barely known celebrity who slept her way to the top. Does she really deserve to touch my brother’s photo?” 3. Tim’s pupils constricted, his face instantly darkening. He snatched the photo fragments I had just gathered from my hand, tearing them into even smaller pieces right in front of me. “Who the hell do you think you are, speaking about Seraphina like that?” I lunged to retrieve the pieces, but he violently pushed me away. He then pulled open my locked drawer. He had known where I hid the key all along. Tim pulled out every single photograph of Caleb I had painstakingly preserved. Caleb in his graduation cap and gown, Caleb sweating on the basketball court, Caleb’s profile as he made his last birthday wish over a cake… One by one, they disintegrated into fragments in his hands. “You’re insane! These are the originals!” I knelt on the floor, uselessly trying to piece them together, my vision blurred by tears. “Ill-omened,” he spat, two chilling words, scattering the last handful of fragments out the window. I trembled all over, then suddenly remembered something and lunged for the hidden compartment behind the bookcase. There, I kept the hard drive containing all of Caleb’s digital photos. But Tim was faster. He snatched the hard drive, gripping it tightly in his hand. “Give it back! That’s all that’s left…” My voice was hoarse with desperation. Tim stared at me, then a cruel smile spread across his face. Right in front of me, he bent the hard drive with both hands – it snapped with a sharp CRACK, its casing splitting open, the delicate disk exposed to the air. He walked to the balcony, held the damaged hard drive high, and then released it. I heard a soft “plop” as it hit the artificial lake below. “Clean now.” I collapsed to the floor, feeling as though all the blood in my body had turned to ice. It felt like that day all over again, the day I received the news of Caleb’s death. My vision blurred. The last thing I saw was Tim’s face, suddenly etched with panic. “Miya! Mi—” Darkness consumed me. … The pungent smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils as I slowly opened my eyes, gazing at the sterile white ceiling. An IV needle was embedded in the back of my hand, cold liquid steadily flowing into my veins, making me tremble uncontrollably. “Awake?” I turned my head. He sat beside the hospital bed, his tailored suit jacket draped over the chair, his tie loosened. Dark circles were pronounced beneath his eyes. He looked as if he had been keeping vigil all night. “The doctor said it was a temporary blackout caused by extreme emotional distress,” he said, pouring a glass of water and offering it to me. “All that for a few worthless photos? Is it really worth it?” I didn’t take the glass, only gazed at him silently. The glass hovered awkwardly in mid-air before he finally set it down heavily on the table. “What day is it?” I asked softly. Tim frowned. “Thursday. Why?” Thursday. Four more days until my flight to France. I silently calculated the time in my mind. “I asked you a question!” Tim suddenly raised his voice. “Why are you playing mute? Getting so worked up over a few photos of a dead person, when there’s a living one right here?” I turned my head to look out the window. The sunlight was bright, illuminating the hospital lawn where a few patients strolled. One young man in a hospital gown, his back to me, reminded me so much of Caleb. “Seraphina is easily scared. As a senior, can’t you be more understanding?” Tim continued to prattle on. “Those photos brought bad luck; I’ve wanted to get rid of them for ages. You—” “I want to rest,” I cut him off. “Could you please leave?” Tim’s words caught in his throat. He stared at me for a few seconds, then let out a cold chuckle. “Fine. You’ve got guts.” He grabbed his suit jacket. “I have a dinner engagement tonight. Won’t be back. Think things over carefully!” The door slammed shut. I slowly curled up, hugging my knees tightly. Caleb’s last photos were gone, the hard drive destroyed. But it didn’t matter. I remembered his face. I would always remember. … As dusk fell, I completed the discharge procedures. When I returned to the villa, it was dark inside. Tim was indeed gone. I walked straight to the bedroom, beginning to pack only the essentials—my passport, bank cards, a few changes of clothes. Nothing else mattered. I was halfway through packing when I heard the front door open downstairs, followed by laughter. “Mr. Winslow~ Slow down, darling~” “Little temptress, you’ve been seducing me all night at the dinner table…” It was Tim and Seraphina. I froze. Their footsteps ascended the stairs, stopping at the room next to mine. Soon, the creaking of bedsprings, a woman’s gasps, and a man’s low groans filled the air from the adjoining room. The sounds grew louder, Seraphina’s cries exaggerated. “Tim, you’re amazing!” “Little hussy, scream louder, let the neighbors hear…” The sounds continued for a long time, eventually fading into silence. I glanced at my phone. Three in the morning. I gently slid open a drawer, took out the sleeping pills I had prepared long ago, and poured two into my palm. When I woke up, I would be gone.

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When the true heir returned, I was already married with twins. Yet everyone despised me, showering all their love on him. “You were never meant to be the Hawthorne heir—just a fraud.” “We don’t want you! We want Uncle Jerry—strong, not weak like you!” “Son, you’ve stolen Jerry’s place long enough. Give it back.” So I divorced Eleanor Vance and left even my children behind. Later, I ran an orphanage, raising dozens who became brilliant successes—CEOs, surgeons, luminaries. They begged to care for me in old age, but I stayed, sweeping leaves at the gate. Then my daughter Scarlett appeared, nose wrinkled in disgust. “Look at you—pathetic. No wonder it stinks here.” “Grandma only sent me because of Art’s engagement. Otherwise, you’d never see us again.” … 1 Scarlett Vance stared at me, her eyes fixed on my face as if searching for a flicker of remorse or regret. But I disappointed her. Far from weeping and begging for forgiveness, I merely raised an eyebrow in confusion. “The CEO of Stone Corporation’s daughter is getting married? How could I not know?” The daughter of the Stone Corporation’s CEO was Seraphina Stone, wasn’t she? She and I had just had tea yesterday; she didn’t seem like a woman on the verge of getting married. Moreover, for such a significant life event, how could she possibly not inform me, her father? I looked at Scarlett, genuine concern creasing my brow. “Is your brother being conned?” My concern, however, was misinterpreted by Scarlett as suspicion. She quickly sneered, “Don’t bother pretending. I know you don’t actually know the Stone Corporation heiress. You’re only saying that because you’ve always been jealous of Dad, jealous that after you left us, our family of four has only thrived.” The “Dad” she referred to was clearly not me, but Jerry Hawthorne, the true heir. “Grandma fell seriously ill this year and kept talking about you. She asked me to bring you back, and incidentally, for Art’s engagement party.” Scarlett’s voice sharpened, her eyes flashing with a familiar indignation. “But only Mom and Dad will be allowed on stage. A man who abandoned his wife and children like you shouldn’t even dream of it.” Her eyes were crimson, her chest heaving with barely suppressed fury. I mused for a moment, the memories of my mother’s kindness when I was a child vivid in my mind. Even after our estrangement, she had always secretly sent me money. Now that she was ill, it was only right that I returned to see her. Besides, I needed to personally get to the bottom of Seraphina Stone’s supposed engagement. Seeing me nod in agreement, a flicker of something, barely discernible, crossed Scarlett’s face—disgust. “Figures,” she muttered. “All these years, and you’re still the same vain, materialistic woman.” “But the more one chases something,” she added, her voice laced with venom, “the less they’ll ever get it.” I simply curved my lips into a slight smile. “That sentiment, Scarlett, I send right back to you, undiminished.” Scarlett choked, her face flushing crimson with anger. That puffed-up, seething expression, I realized, had never truly changed. Back when the true heir returned, my wife, Eleanor, began spending frequent nights away from home. Coincidentally, our five-year-old daughter, Scarlett, developed a fever. Eleanor, however, stubbornly insisted I was using the child to gain favor, and locked us, father and children, inside the villa. Feeling Scarlett’s body grow hotter and hotter, I hardened my heart. I jumped from the third-floor balcony, scrambling to a neighbor’s house to call an ambulance, saving Scarlett’s life. When Eleanor finally arrived, belatedly, I slapped her hard. But before the storm of my suppressed emotions could truly break, my daughter, just awake in her hospital bed, uttered her first words: “Mommy, I wasn’t sick. Daddy gave me a cold bath on purpose to make me feverish. He just wanted to use me to get you back from Uncle Jerry.” That day, Eleanor slapped me a dozen times, but the searing pain on my face was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. How could my daughter, whom I had raised and meticulously cared for, become like this? Because of that incident, my parents disowned me. Jerry, feigning dejection before my parents, hypocritically rebuked me. “Brother, if you hate me, I’ll leave. But you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t hurt your own child. Scarlett is only five; she’s at a crucial stage of development. If anything serious happened, wouldn’t you, as her biological father, be heartbroken?” It was precisely because I was her biological father that my heart felt so utterly cold, so completely devoid of hope. Now, looking at the hostile Scarlett, I curved my lips into a gentle smile. “Let’s go. The sooner we leave, the sooner I can return to sweeping and tending to the orphanage.” 2 Scarlett immediately got into the driver’s seat of her Mercedes. As I reached for the passenger door, she pulled out a cloth. “Put this down,” she instructed, her voice flat. “Don’t get my car dirty.” I raised an eyebrow in surprise. What could possibly soil her “Mercedes”? It was just an overpriced car. During the drive, Scarlett remained stone-faced and silent. I had no desire to speak with her either, so I opened our family group chat and sent a message: “I’m heading to Westbrook to visit your Grandma. I’ll need you all to manage the orphanage in my absence.” Immediately, a flurry of “Understood, Dad!” messages flooded the chat. Seraphina Stone hadn’t replied, but then I remembered she was on a flight to a UN conference today. She must be airborne. A faint smile touched my lips. Over the years, the first group of children from the orphanage had grown up, becoming pillars of society. Yet, they genuinely regarded me as their father, loving and respecting me deeply. The car soon pulled up to Vance Manor. Servants were arranging fresh flowers at the entrance, and a steady stream of luxury cars arrived and departed. The moment I stepped inside, I saw Jerry. Nearly two decades had passed, but his demeanor was a stark contrast to the timid, cowering man I first met. Today, he wore a black turtleneck beneath a perfectly tailored suit, exuding an air of understated nobility and impeccable taste. His eyes lit up when he saw me, yet his welcome was as insincere as ever. Despite his obvious dislike, he immediately walked over to me. “Brother, you’ve finally decided to come back,” he said, and then, feigning tears, he added, “Mother was so gravely ill before, and you never returned. She almost…” He trailed off, wiping a non-existent tear. “But thankfully, you decided to come back for Art and Miss Stone’s engagement party today.” A flicker of calculation, barely perceptible, crossed his eyes. The surrounding guests immediately erupted in whispers. “Is that the man who cheated and abandoned his own children?” “How dare he show his face here? He must have heard his son is marrying into the Stone Corporation and now he’s shamelessly trying to worm his way back in.” The murmurs were far from kind, and Jerry smirked, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. Scarlett, who had entered with me, was clearly displeased. She shoved me aside, striding towards Jerry to declare her loyalty. “Dad, don’t worry. You’re the only father I’ll ever have. I’ll never acknowledge some ambiguous person as my dad.” “Good girl…” Jerry glanced at me, a smug expression on his face. I had no interest in their charade and interrupted them directly. “I came back to see my mother. Where is she?” Scarlett scoffed. “I see you know you don’t fit in with Dad and me, so you’re trying to find an excuse. But do you really think Grandma will give you a warm welcome?” Before she could finish, I saw my mother, seated in a wheelchair. Upon seeing me, her eyes reddened, threatening to spill tears. I hadn’t returned to see her all these years, not because I didn’t want to, but because she had always refused, citing Jerry’s displeasure. She felt pity for the “true heir” who had supposedly suffered for nearly thirty years outside, and consequently, grew increasingly distant from me. But she had forgotten. When our company was just starting, and we couldn’t recruit anyone, it was I who drank myself sick night after night to secure deals. As the company slowly gained traction, my health steadily deteriorated. My father then used the excuse of “letting me recuperate” to force me out of the company. Simply because Jerry had returned. My bedroom was demanded for Jerry, the position of company general manager was to be relinquished to Jerry, and finally, my parents and children even begged me to hand Eleanor over to Jerry. “William Thorne, you’ve already had so much in the first half of your life. It’s time to return it all to Jerry.” “Daddy, you’re bad. You’re stealing Uncle Jerry’s things. Mommy clearly prefers Uncle Jerry.” Every single person I held dear had, at one point, unequivocally stood by Jerry. Until Jerry looked at me, a challenging glint in his eyes: “Brother, your wife is pregnant with my child. What do you say we do?” 3 Suddenly, he dropped to his knees before me, weeping uncontrollably. “I beg you! I don’t want to ruin your family. I just… can you please be merciful and let Eleanor keep my baby?” When my parents and Eleanor entered the room, they found Jerry on his knees, acting subservient and pleading with me. As I merely lifted my hand, Jerry dramatically tumbled down the stairs. Eleanor, without a moment’s thought, rushed to him, tripped over something, and also fell down the staircase, blood staining the plush carpet. My parents’ faces immediately contorted in horror. Jerry, limping, scooped up my wife and rushed her to the hospital. My two children stood at the doorway, arms outstretched, glaring at me like protective sentinels. My father raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. “I don’t have a son as malicious as you.” “You’ve monopolized your brother’s wealth and glory for over twenty years, and now you’re trying to kill him? That was a life you threatened!” I clutched my stinging, swollen cheek, saying nothing. I simply packed my bags and left my family, with whom I had spent decades. That cold winter night, as snow fell heavily, I, dragging a small suitcase, unknowingly found myself at the gates of an orphanage. And so, I found a new home. I invested every penny from my divorce settlement into the orphanage. Later, while foraging for herbs in the mountains, I found and rescued an unconscious Seraphina Stone. It was only months later, when the CEO of Stone Corporation arrived at the orphanage, that I realized she was the kidnapped heiress who had gone missing. During her time with us, Seraphina developed a deep affection for me, calling me “Dad” like all the other children. Her mother, whose husband had passed away young, had always felt she hadn’t been there enough for her daughter. Seeing her daughter finally connecting with someone, she let Seraphina continue calling me Dad. Later, in the deepest part of an alley, I rescued a dying Ethan Reed from a dumpster. I gave him a new name, supported his education, and to my surprise, he turned out to be a genius. He skipped grades, becoming the youngest Traditional Medicine Professor. And there were countless other orphans I pulled from the mire. Thinking of them, a soft smile unconsciously spread across my lips. My mother clasped my hand, repeating several times, “It’s good you’re back. It’s good you’re back.” “Your father, before he passed, he actually spoke of you too, but…” Just then, my son, Arthur Vance, and Eleanor walked in, laughing and chatting. Their expressions immediately soured when they saw me. “What are you doing here?” I looked at the tall, handsome Arthur, a dark, melancholic shade clouding my eyes. It seemed the kidney I had donated to him was serving him well. When Arthur was just six years old, he was suddenly diagnosed with kidney failure. The family business was at a low point then, and everyone wanted to give up on his treatment. It was I who stubbornly insisted, borrowing money from everywhere. And after a successful match, I donated my kidney to Arthur. Lying in that hospital bed back then, I never could have imagined that the son I cherished so deeply would one day disdain me as a “sickly wretch.” He had hidden behind Jerry, his eyes filled with revulsion. “I don’t want you. I want Uncle Jerry.” The disapproving face of young Arthur slowly overlapped with the hatred in his eyes now. “Who allowed you to come? How dare a wicked man who abandoned his wife and children return to claim credit?” “I bet you heard I’m marrying the CEO of Stone Corporation’s daughter and you want to leech off us. Let me tell you, don’t even think about it!” Arthur’s barrage of words gave the guests plenty of gossip to chew on. “Is that the fake heir who usurped his place back then?” “If I were him, I wouldn’t even have the face to come back.” Arthur ignored the whispers, intimately embracing Jerry. “Dad, today, I promise no one will steal your thunder.” He looked at me with a malevolent glint in his eye. And my mother, at this moment, remained utterly silent. A cold chuckle escaped my lips. She was always like this: between Jerry and me, she would always choose Jerry without hesitation. Seeing the atmosphere turn awkward, my ex-wife stepped in, attempting to smooth things over. “Alright, alright, it’s a joyous day. Since you’re here, why don’t you have a seat?” Eleanor pointed to a very secluded table, one occupied entirely by photographers and other staff. “Such a fancy banquet, you probably want to pack up leftovers. How embarrassing,” Arthur sneered. Just as I was about to walk over, the main doors swung open. “The Stone Corporation heiress has arrived!” The familiar roar of a Lamborghini engine echoed through the hall.

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