Author: Momo Chan

My husband, an Interdimensional Traveler, was forbidden from falling in love with mortals from the small worlds. Yet, he was smitten with me at first sight. Each flutter of his heart was accompanied by a soul-shattering agony. He had endured ninety-nine such torments. Later, I was abducted and taken to the Crimson Zone, subjected to daily beatings and degradation, used as an instrument of torment. On the brink of collapse, I remembered the secret method Caspian had taught me, a way to connect with his otherworldly realm. Upon successful connection, however, I overheard Caspian’s conversation with his interdimensional mentor. “Caspian, how could you personally contact the Syndicate and have them abduct Sara? Isn’t she your beloved?” My husband’s voice was cold as steel. “This ordeal was originally meant for Lily, the supporting female lead. To save her, I had no other choice.” “Sara is the female lead of this world. She has the favor of the Cosmic Order; nothing could happen to her.” “Once this mission is complete, I’ll be able to stay in this timeline forever. Then, I will compensate her properly.” My heart shattered into a million pieces. As the villains closed in on me, I completely gave up the fight. 1 “Tsk, tsk, this girl’s got some backbone.” Another woman’s voice, laced with mockery, followed by a fresh wave of searing pain from my left leg. The soul-shattering agony finally forced a muffled groan from my lips. “Oh, finally decided to make a sound, have we?” The first woman seemed to perk up, her voice tinged with a morbid curiosity. I finally managed to pry open my eyes. The woman before me was heavily made up, her face alight with a disturbing, almost pathological excitement. In her hand, she held a glowing, red-hot iron rod, which she dangled before my eyes before abruptly thrusting it towards my chest. A choked scream tore from my throat. My chest felt as if it were being branded from the inside out, the burning sensation spreading, consuming every nerve. “That’s more like it. Where’s the fun if you don’t scream?” The woman smiled, satisfied, then pressed the red-hot rod into the other side of my chest. I bit down hard on my lip, fighting to stay silent. I knew the more I struggled, the more excited they became. I could only silently endure, praying for it all to end. My limbs had long been severed, leaving me like a broken doll, utterly at their mercy, to be tormented at their whim. “Which one is this now? Have we hit all eight torture methods?” Caspian’s voice, as clear and cutting as ever. “This is the seventh. Does it have to be this exact?” His mentor’s voice held a hint of reluctance. “You know perfectly well Sara was the one who saved you back then. Why are you so determined to repay Lily instead?” My eyelashes fluttered. During that landslide, it was I who fought tooth and nail to dig him out of the rubble, carrying him to safety until I collapsed from exhaustion. When I woke, however, he adamantly insisted Lily was his savior. No matter how much I explained, he wouldn’t believe me. Turns out, it wasn’t a matter of belief. He had deliberately chosen to act this way. “My marriage to Sara has already wronged Lily’s devoted heart. I don’t want her to suffer this fate.” “A woman who endures this, her life is ruined.” Caspian sighed, his voice filled with helplessness and guilt. I lay on the filthy cot, tears streaming down my face as I laughed. He knew that a woman’s life would be ruined by such an ordeal, yet he was still so cruel to me. He professed to love me, yet he personally pushed me into this hell. Doesn’t that count as wronging me? A sharp pain lanced through my abdomen. I gasped for air, a choked cry escaping my lips. A man nearby shouted in alarm, “She’s bleeding profusely! Is she… is she pregnant?!” The mentor’s voice also grew tense. “Caspian, Sara is fading. She…” “Don’t tell me the details. It’ll hurt too much.” Caspian interrupted him anxiously, his voice laced with pain. “Alright, let’s proceed with the last one.” “What?!” The mentor exclaimed. “She can’t take any more! She’s already…” “Stop talking! No matter what happens to Sara, I will love her.” “It must be exactly as written, otherwise the plot will repeat itself for Lily.” Caspian’s tone remained utterly unchanged, sounding like a demon’s whisper in my ears. Soon, someone brought a dozen long steel spikes. Even in my despair, I couldn’t help but shrink back in terror. I was indeed pregnant. Before this overseas mission, I had found out I was three months along. I had planned to tell Caspian the good news after the mission. He had always yearned for a child, dreaming of a happy future for our family of three. I had believed we would have a happy home. Before I could react, crude hands seized my limbs. Immense pain flooded my entire body. I watched, horrified, as one massive steel spike after another was driven into my flesh. I was on the verge of fainting from the agony, but they had injected me with an awareness serum. I remained horrifyingly lucid, clearly feeling every agonizing detail of this hellish torment. “She really is pregnant, it seems. What a sin…” The man holding the pliers looked at my blood-soaked lower body, turning away with a hint of revulsion. My child couldn’t endure the torment of my body. In a haze, I heard Caspian’s voice, carrying an almost imperceptible tremor. “Sara, you must hold on. Once I complete my mission, I’ll be able to stay in this timeline forever. Then, I will compensate you properly.” Compensate me with what? With his so-called love? I let out a bitter, silent laugh. Tears wouldn’t even come anymore. Those scumbags dragged me from the ground like a dead dog, their faces twisted in leers. They threw me into a foul-smelling water dungeon, leaving me to fester in the icy, filthy water. I don’t know how long passed, but finally, the cell door opened. Caspian’s figure appeared, backlit, his face etched with such obvious anxiety and heartbreak that it looked as if he might cry at any second. He rushed forward, pulling me into his embrace, his voice trembling. “Sara, my darling, I’ve come to save you.” 2 I lifted my head, my gaze hollow as I looked at him. The face I once deeply adored now filled me only with a profound sense of alienation and disgust. “Didn’t you say you always had my location, that you’d always be the first to come save me?” His expression stiffened. He then explained, guiltily, “I’m sorry. The foreign environment was too complex; I was delayed for quite some time.” He held me tighter. “I’m so sorry, Sara. It doesn’t matter what’s happened, I love you.” Love me? I let out a cold laugh, as if I’d just heard the most ridiculous joke imaginable. He didn’t notice my abnormality, or perhaps, he chose to ignore it. He took off his coat and wrapped my wounded body in it, then swept me into his arms and raced out. He brought me to a hospital. My colleagues, upon hearing the news, rushed to my side. Seeing me, barely human, a grotesque shadow of my former self, even they—who had witnessed countless horrors—couldn’t help but gasp. I was rushed into surgery. The tendons in my limbs had been severed, and my entire body was covered in massive infections and festering wounds. The doctor shook his head and sighed throughout the procedure. The anesthetic had no effect on me, but I didn’t even have the strength to moan. After the surgery, I was moved to a private room. Caspian came. He sat by my bedside, and his cold tears fell onto my face. “Sara, I’m so sorry. I’ll never let you suffer again.” If this were before, seeing him like this, I would have immediately woken to comfort him, telling him I was alright. But now, I felt only revulsion. A sound came from the doorway. “Caspian, darling, are you hungry? I bought you some breakfast.” It was Lily. Caspian released my hand, turning his head away as he refused. “I can’t eat. You go ahead and eat. In three hours, you’ll take the flight back home. It’s not safe here.” “I don’t want to go alone! I’m scared. Will you come with me, please?” Lily’s voice was laden with a heavy, childish whine. “No, I have to stay with Sara.” Caspian refused without a second thought. “But I’m truly so scared.” Caspian hesitated, as expected. He finally gave in. “Alright, I’ll go give the orders.” He always said he only loved me, but when it came to Lily, he was always soft-hearted, unable to deny her any request. The moment he turned to leave, Lily revealed her true colors. She walked to my bedside and casually slapped me across the face. “You’re awake, aren’t you? Stop pretending. We all know you were given that awareness serum.” Lily looked down at me, her eyes filled with mockery and triumph. “I hear your limbs are completely crippled now. How pathetic.” I struggled to open my eyes, my gaze cold as I stared at her. “Even like this, you’ll never be Mrs. Hayes.” She loved Caspian with a mad obsession, but tragically, Caspian never returned her feelings. Lily’s expression shifted. She suddenly gave a disdainful laugh. “Don’t be so smug! You don’t know, do you? Caspian’s sending me back.” Her smile widened into a malicious sneer. “It’s to steal your credit! Your success in capturing the fugitive, it’s all going to be mine now!” My eyes widened in fury. I strained with all my might, forcing a few words from my throat: “You… shameless wretches!” Caspian had said he was worried about me, and followed. But it wasn’t to worry about me; it was to send me to my torment. Now, even the credit for capturing the criminal, a feat for which we sacrificed two brothers, was to be placed on Lily’s head. Lily picked up a syringe, and without hesitation, plunged it into my vein. “You might as well die. You’re already like this. Living is just prolonged agony.” She smiled malevolently, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue. “This is a septic agent. Caspian was afraid you’d interfere, so he had me inject you.” She chuckled, “Goodbye. Try to steal my man again in your next life!” She laughed, a sharp, triumphant sound, and then sauntered away. Less than five minutes after Lily left, my vital monitors began blaring shrill alarms. Doctors and nurses swarmed in, a chaotic frenzy. “It’s bad! The patient’s vital functions are dropping! Her blood coagulation is failing! If this continues, she’ll die from infection! Get her back to the mainland now! We have coagulation agents there!” “There are no flights going abroad right now!” My colleagues were frantic. Suddenly, a colleague seemed to remember something, exclaiming, “Wait! Caspian requested a private helicopter! He can take Sara back!” A flicker of hope ignited within me. I wanted to live. Everyone rushed to push my gurney towards the airport. At the airport, we just happened to encounter Caspian and Lily, who were about to board. Clara rushed forward, grabbing Caspian’s arm, shouting anxiously, “Quick! Let Sara go first! Her condition is critical! If she doesn’t get back to the mainland, she’ll die!” 3 Caspian rejected her without a second thought. “No, the helicopter can only carry two people. I have to take Lily back now. It’s too unsafe here.” His voice was firm, without a hint of hesitation. Clara roared, “Sara is dying! She’s your wife! Is she less important than taking Lily back?!” Lily, however, put on a frail act, timidly saying, “Caspian, darling, it’s okay. Sara might be jealous. You go back to the mainland with her. I’ll be fine here alone.” Caspian, who had been wavering, solidified his resolve upon hearing Lily’s words. “Sara will be fine. Her injuries were stable just now. Don’t try to trick me by helping her.” He said, pulling Lily towards the helicopter. Clara cried, grabbing him, “Sara is truly fading! Are you abandoning her?” He coldly flung Clara’s hand away, his gaze icy as he looked at me, his voice heavy. “Sara, be sensible. I’ll take Lily, and then I’ll come back for you. Don’t be silly with jealousy.” But Caspian, I wasn’t jealous. I was truly dying. I lay on the stretcher, in too much pain to speak, feeling my vital functions draining away, my consciousness blurring. Caspian removed his goggles and walked towards me. The oxygen mask was gently pushed aside. His warm breath fell on my ear. “Wait for me for six hours.” He touched my festering lips. His thumb still bore the scar from where he’d burned himself testing the temperature of my porridge. “When this is all over, I’ll take you to see the cherry blossoms. Haven’t you always wanted to?” I didn’t want to see cherry blossoms, and I didn’t want to wait for him. I watched, horrified, as Caspian took Lily onto the helicopter. I watched the propellers spin, watched the helicopter ascend higher and higher, eventually disappearing into the sky. I had never imagined he could be so heartless. That he would abandon my life for another woman. With great effort, I pulled my phone and the thin pregnancy report from my clothes, handing them to Clara. “Give the recording on my phone to HQ. Don’t let Lily claim our victory. And this…” I paused, my breathing becoming more difficult. “Give this to Caspian. Tell him I will never forgive him!” Clara froze, her eyes instantly reddening. “Sara, you must hold on! We’ll find another helicopter!” She cried, “Sara, I’m so sorry! We’re useless, we couldn’t stop them…” “It’s too late…” I smiled weakly, feeling my life ebb away, moment by agonizing moment. “Just burn my body. Don’t give the ashes to Caspian. I never want to see him again…” With my last words spoken, my eyelids could no longer hold, slowly drifting shut. My colleagues around me removed their hats, saluting me. A silent farewell spread through the air. Meanwhile, a thousand miles away, Caspian’s interdimensional communicator suddenly blared a harsh alarm: [The female lead of this world has fallen. A new female lead will be chosen.] [The Cosmic Order has decreed Lily the new female lead of this world.] The file in his hand clattered to the ground.

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1 Andrew Miller asked for a divorce the moment his mentor’s daughter confirmed her pregnancy. “Her reputation matters, Elle,” he’d said, his voice flat, devoid of real apology. “It’s just for show, don’t overthink it.” Even our son, Jack, chimed in, echoing his father’s words with a saccharine sweetness that grated on my nerves. “You always talk about gratitude, Mom. Besides, it’s Dad’s child. Don’t make things harder for him.” Everyone braced themselves for a screaming match, for tears, for the inevitable outburst. But I just nodded, a silent, hollow acceptance. I signed the papers without a fuss and, just as swiftly, married Tim Thorne, the man who had saved my life years ago. Because in my past life, when I clung desperately to the marriage, refusing to let go, Andrew and Jack simply abandoned me, vanishing without a trace. I became the city’s laughingstock, a shell of my former self, never truly recovering. So this time, I accepted the divorce with a quiet resolve and simply disappeared from their lives. Six years later, at an exclusive, high-society gala aboard a luxury cruise ship. Andrew and Jack, his son, elbowed their way through the swirling dancers, grabbing my wrist with a furious grip. “I said it was just for show, Elle! Where the hell have you been all these years?!” I was taken aback, but only for a split second. A split second later, my sweet little girl, a bundle of sunshine, tumbled into my arms. “Mommy, who are you talking to? Daddy’s looking for you!” When I saw Andrew again, I was on the ship’s deck, nursing a drink, clad in a sleek, silk mermaid gown. I’d been up until dawn working on designs and hadn’t wanted to show my face, but as the wife of the cruise line’s owner, I had no choice but to attend. I sighed, my glass still mid-air, when abrupt footsteps pounded behind me. The next thing I knew, I was spun around, caught in an unexpected grip. Both Andrew and I froze. His pupils contracted, his voice a strangled gasp of disbelief: “Eleanor! It really is you! Where have you been all this time?!” My expression remained calm, but before I could answer, Tiffany Hayes, standing beside him, shrieked, her voice dripping with feigned concern: “Elle, darling, you’re so thin now! I remember when you were too self-conscious to even show your face!” Jack snickered, a childish, cruel sound. He’d shot up quite a bit in the years since I’d seen him, but the arrogant smirk on his face was a carbon copy of Tiffany’s. He’d clearly caught Tiffany’s subtle jab, and a mocking smile played on his lips. “Aunt Tiffany, stop it. You know Mom’s got a thin skin. She’ll be crying any minute. What’s the point? You’re not exactly model material anyway.” Jack’s tone was thick with disdain, exactly as it had been every time he’d mocked me in the past. Mocking my weight, my intelligence, and the fact that I was “just a housewife” with “no personal appeal.” But before our marriage, I was a rising star, a celebrated talent in the fashion world. Major fashion houses had practically thrown themselves at me, eager to collaborate on designs. But after I married Andrew, everything shifted. He constantly accused me of neglecting our home. He systematically brainwashed me, insisting that a “good wife” and “good mother” didn’t seek the limelight. One day, he even sent emails to my partners, pretending I was retiring from the industry. I woke to find my career annihilated, and I screamed and cried like a madwoman. He simply told me, with infuriating nonchalance, to “calm down.” From that day on, I was a bird with clipped wings, devoting myself entirely to domestic life. Yet, in our seventh year, he began an affair with his mentor’s daughter, claiming she was “dazzling” and “reignited his passion.” As I drifted through these bitter memories, Tiffany’s syrupy giggle broke through. She cooed, with mock kindness, “Elle, dear, even if you can’t be a model, don’t be too hard on yourself. You could always apply to be a hostess. I have a friend who’s a hotel manager. They’re hiring hostesses for about three thousand a month. Want me to put in a word for you?” Jack burst out laughing before she’d even finished. “Aunt Tiffany, stop it. You know Mom’s got a thin skin. She’ll be crying any minute.” He puffed out his chest, pointing to a raised stage nearby. “Aunt Tiffany was invited to walk the runway tonight! For a really famous designer’s collection!” I blinked, a strange urge to laugh bubbling up inside me. 2 Because I was that designer. And this fashion show was a prelude to my husband, Tim Thorne’s, corporate event. We’d specifically invited high-profile models, and I distinctly recalled scanning the roster – Tiffany Hayes was not on it. Then, it clicked, like lightning striking. One of the models had an unexpected emergency, and Tiffany was brought in as a last-minute replacement. Checking my watch, I met her gaze, my voice flat. “Shouldn’t you be backstage getting ready by now?” Tiffany’s face stiffened, clearly offended by my tone. “Don’t pretend to know everything, Elle. What do you know? It’s still early!” My brows furrowed. Such unprofessionalism. No wonder she’d gone nowhere in all these years. Seeing me alone, Tiffany suddenly linked her arm through Andrew’s, her voice turning saccharine sweet. “Elle, dear, is something wrong? This cruise ship isn’t exactly easy to get onto. I’ve heard some people sneak in with unsanctioned tickets, hoping to snag a rich husband.” Her implication was clear. Andrew’s gaze lingered on me, a complex expression on his face, then flickered to my gown. His voice, surprisingly, held a tinge of sadness. “Eleanor, that’s not something you’d usually wear. Did you rent it? Or borrow it?” He pulled out a card and offered it to me. “Here’s thirty thousand. You’re still Jack’s mother, after all. I can’t just stand by and watch you stumble into trouble. I thought when you left so decisively, you’d found something better. I never imagined you’d end up like this…” His voice trailed off, laced with a smug, almost pitying regret. Tiffany covered her mouth, giggling. “Perhaps it’s a replica, Elle. Don’t be embarrassed. This money is nothing to us, but it might help you avoid looking so… desperate.” But before her words fully hung in the air, a young woman’s voice cut in. “That’s no replica. The craftsmanship and fabric are unmistakable. Plus, it’s one of Thorne Design’s latest pieces – almost impossible to get your hands on.” Tiffany’s face froze. She spun around, ready to snap, then her eyes widened. It was Brenda Walsh, an old acquaintance. Brenda’s face lit up. She embraced Tiffany warmly. “Darling, what a surprise to see you! How have you been? We completely lost touch after you got pregnant years ago!” She glanced at Jack, a hint of confusion in her eyes. “Is this your son? He looks a bit… old for the timeline.” Tiffany’s composure faltered. She forced a strained smile. Her voice came out strained. “There… there was an accident. I lost the baby.” I felt a flicker of surprise, yet it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Andrew had severe fertility issues. I never told him, wanting to spare his pride. Behind his back, I’d endured countless fertility treatments and injections, even a massive hemorrhage, almost losing the baby myself. But Andrew, far from comforting me, had endlessly condemned me during my postpartum recovery. I cried for three days straight until my vision blurred, then faded. Only then did I realize I couldn’t afford to cry anymore. The past was a grimy, tattered rag I desperately wanted to wring out and discard. I sighed inwardly, pushing the ugly memories away. Brenda offered a few awkward condolences, then excused herself. I checked my watch, deciding it was time to leave too. But Tiffany grabbed my arm, her fingers digging deep into my skin. Her face crumbled, eyes blazing with hatred. “You’re thrilled, aren’t you? That my baby is gone! It’s all your fault! Andrew was constantly out searching for you, never home! That’s why I got so upset, and I miscarried! You… you murderer!” The pain made me instinctively push her away. Then I froze. He was looking for me? For what purpose? Wasn’t he the one who insisted on the divorce in my last life? Besides, what did Tiffany’s miscarriage have to do with me? Andrew’s fertility issues made it a high risk from the start. And she was starving herself. It was her own doing. 3 I stared at the raw, red marks on my arm, thin lines of blood blooming against my fair skin. Tim would spot them instantly. Given how fiercely protective he was, I worried what might happen. But the next moment, Andrew stepped in front of me, his face contorted in anger. He helped a sobbing Tiffany to her feet, then turned on me, his voice a harsh command. “Eleanor, apologize!” A shiver ran through me, instantly dragging me back to the past. Once, I’d added too much salt to a dish, and Tiffany, who was eating it, had immediately burst into tears, claiming I was jealous of her figure and trying to make her fat. Without a word, Andrew had shoved me to the ground, leaving me to grovel like a dog with no dignity. The memory was vivid, burning. My fingernails bit into my palms. But that was then, and this was now. I wouldn’t stand by and let myself be slandered like some cheap floozy. So I scoffed, a single, disdainful word escaping my lips: “Dream on.” Jack, mid-wipe of Tiffany’s tears, paused. He turned to me, his voice sharp with manufactured disappointment: “You’re so wicked, and you don’t even care! I wish I didn’t have a mother like you!” He’d uttered that exact line more times than I could count. Giving birth to him had been a struggle, which was why I’d always doted on him, always indulged him. Even his most outrageous demands were quietly met. But if he thought that tactic still worked on me, he was sorely mistaken. I met his defiant, almost smug gaze, my voice flat. “Doesn’t matter. You’ve got plenty of mothers, don’t you?” Jack froze, his bravado crumbling instantly. He opened his mouth, a panicked stutter, and I saw a flicker of tears in his eyes. Then, he exploded. He ripped the small charm from around his neck—and hurled it into the ocean. Then he burst into a fresh torrent of tears. “I hate you! I never want you again! You’re a horrible woman!” For a moment, I was disoriented. I’d gotten him that lucky charm when he was six. He used to complain it was “uncool” and “old-fashioned,” always leaving it lying around the house. Now he was wearing it close to his skin? Tiffany pulled him into a hug, stroking his hair with feigned solicitude. “Jack, darling, I’m your mommy now. That… that woman doesn’t deserve to be your mother.” She turned to me, a cruel glint in her eyes, her voice a low, venomous hiss: “Eleanor, you don’t have an entrance badge. You must have snuck in with a scalped ticket. I was going to let it slide, but since you’re so shameless, don’t blame me.” With that, she raised a hand, signaling for security. I didn’t flinch. A joke. This entire cruise ship was mine, a gift from Tim. Let’s see who dared lay a hand on me. But before she could, a hand shot out, firm and quick, pressing her arm down. Andrew looked at me with a complicated expression, then muttered something to Tiffany. Tiffany stared at him, incredulous, her face a mask of bitter resentment. Finally, she gave a grudging nod. Andrew’s expression softened. He started to turn, about to speak to me, but Tiffany threw her arms around his neck, her crimson lips pressing against his. Andrew stiffened for a beat, his eyes instinctively flicking to me. I remained utterly impassive. His eyes darkened, and he leaned in, kissing her with an exaggerated fervor. Just then, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. Before I could even answer, Andrew’s eyes lit up, a sudden, almost desperate hope in them. His voice was thick with barely suppressed excitement. “You still listen to that song?” I blinked, about to ask what he meant, then it dawned on me, a slow, dawning realization. It was our song. The one from when we first fell in love. I’d completely forgotten. I just liked the melody and set it as my ringtone on a whim. But Andrew had clearly misconstrued it. His eyes shone, as if he was about to confess something profound. I ignored him, answering the call instead. Tim’s deep, resonant voice filled my ear. “Elle, where are you? The show’s about to start. We need to go on stage for the opening remarks.” A smile bloomed involuntarily on my face. “Coming right away,” I murmured. “I’ll be right there. Gotta go!”

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1 Becoming a concert pianist had always been my dream. But on the day of my Grand Master piano examination, a group of thugs suddenly stormed the venue. As I was about to complete my performance, they slammed down the heavy piano lid, then stomped on it repeatedly, with all their might. My fingers were instantly smashed to a bloody mess. I screamed, trying desperately to pull my hands free, but I couldn’t. I looked to my wife, Vicki, for help. Instead, I watched as she actually blocked my friends and the security guards who were trying to reach me. I only learned later that these thugs were there for Leo Maxwell. They meant to break his hands. But my wife had said: “You can’t touch Leo’s hands. Go for the pianist over there. He’s all yours.” My heart died that day. I decided then and there that I would divorce her. But later, she begged for my forgiveness. She even broke Leo’s hands, crying as she pleaded with me. … The piano lid slammed down with a sickening thud, struck by a thug’s bat. It was impossibly heavy. I screamed, a primal sound torn from my throat, frantically trying to yank my fingers from beneath the crushing weight. But the thug, a burly brute, stepped onto a bench and then jumped onto the piano, stomping down with all his weight, again and again. The pain was excruciating, shooting through every nerve, making me gasp for breath, cold sweat slicking my skin. “Stop it! Stop! Please, stop hitting! Just stop!” I begged, my voice hoarse. “I’ve never done anything to you! Why are you doing this to me?!” The thug looked down at me, a sneer twisting his brutal face. “No grudge, huh? Leo Maxwell put my brother in prison. I came for my revenge, but your wife stopped me. She said you were fair compensation. A pair of hands? That’s not too much to ask, is it, big-shot pianist?” “No… it’s impossible!” I twisted my head, my eyes wide with disbelief. Across the room, Vicki was directing a phalanx of bodyguards, shielding Leo in their midst, murmuring reassurances to him, telling him not to be afraid. My piano teacher, horrified, was trying to get past with the venue’s security, but Vicki stood in their way. “This is a private family matter,” she’d said, her voice sharp. “You don’t need to interfere.” My body trembled with a cold fury, unable to reconcile what I was seeing with reality. This was beyond absurd! The next second, I heard a sickening crunch, the unmistakable sound of bone shattering. Warm, sticky blood began to seep from beneath the lid, trickling down the polished piano keys. A wave of icy panic washed over me. I was terrified. Terrified I would never play piano again. Shame and dignity crumbled. I looked up at her, my voice raw with desperation. “Vicki, please! For the sake of our three years of marriage! Save me! Please, save me!” She merely glanced at me, her gaze cold and distant. “It’s because you’re my husband that I’m letting you do this. You’re truly disappointing me, Ethan.” Her voice was dismissive. “It’s just a few stomps, isn’t it? Leo has helped me so much. This is just you repaying a debt.” Hearing such cruel, venomous words spill from her beautiful, crimson lips felt like a knife twisting in my heart. In that moment, I couldn’t tell if my heart or my mangled hands hurt more. Four years of dating, three years of marriage. Did she not know that my dream was to be a concert pianist? That these hands were the most precious things I possessed? Seven years of a shared life, of supposed affection, shattered and crumbled into dust at that very moment. The thug continued to stomp on the lid, venting his twisted rage. As if that wasn’t enough, he began to kick my face, his foot grinding against my head, then he shoved the toe of his shoe into my mouth. My hands were pinned; I was utterly helpless to resist. And my wife stood by, utterly indifferent, her eyes fixed only on Leo, who had started to fake a heart attack again, drawing her concern. 2 My piano teacher’s eyes blazed with fury. “Vicki Hayes! As Ethan’s wife, not only do you refuse to save him, but you forbid us from helping?! Look at the state Ethan is in! Doesn’t your conscience ache, even a little?!” She spared me a cold glance. “So his hands got stomped on a few times? Is there really a need for all this melodramatic wailing?” She turned to me, her voice sharp. “Ethan Blackwood, can’t you be a man for once? A piano lid can’t possibly crush your hand! Stop feigning pity; it only makes me look down on you.” I was so weak, so broken, I barely had the strength to speak. My lips trembled as I whispered, “No, I’m not faking. My fingers… they’re broken.” Vicki couldn’t hear my faint words. She knitted her brows in annoyance. “Ethan Blackwood, will you stop acting like a child? A piano lid weighs nothing! How could it possibly break your hand? Stop trying to get sympathy; it’s pathetic.” My fingers were fractured, pulverized, a mangled mess, yet she called it “feigning pity.” My piano teacher stood beside her, sputtering with rage. She pointed a trembling finger at Vicki’s face. “Are you dense as a brick?! Do you have any idea that piano weighs six hundred pounds, and its lid alone is over a hundred? It’s even studded with jagged diamonds along the edge! And on top of that, a two-hundred-pound brute is jumping on it! If he isn’t rescued right now, his fingers will be ruined forever!” Her voice cracked. “He has such incredible piano talent, a future master! Just ruined like this! How can you be so cruel?!” Vicki paused, her expression momentarily faltering, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes as she listened to my teacher. Just then, Leo Maxwell nearby began to cough dramatically. “I truly envy Brother Ethan, having such a caring teacher!” He wheezed, then looked at Vicki. “Vicki, don’t worry about me. Just let these thugs beat me to death! Brother Ethan is a noble pianist, his hands are so precious. How could I let him suffer for me?!” Vicki immediately turned to Leo, soothing him with tender hands, then spun back to me and my teacher, her eyes blazing with pure disgust. “Get lost, you old hag! My husband and I’s business is none of your damn concern!” She scoffed. “What ‘noble pianist’? He’s nothing but a dog I keep! It’s his damn good fortune to help Leo! If his fingers are broken, they’re broken! Go home and stay there! It’ll stop you from prancing around and flirting with every woman in sight!” Each word that spilled from her lips was like a razor-sharp blade, slicing my heart into a thousand pieces. I had always deceived myself, clinging to the belief that her lingering connection with Leo was just some innocent nostalgia for her youth. At least I was the one she loved now, the one who held her. But in this agonizing moment, I finally understood: she had never loved me. Her heart belonged only to Leo. And I, in her eyes, was nothing more than a loyal, pathetic dog. The profound, all-consuming love I’d felt, for which I would have sacrificed everything, was, to her, nothing but a slobbering pug’s desperate tail wag. My anger surged, a hot, bitter wave, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood. 3 The brute still standing on the piano seemed to revel in the unfolding farce. He gave a triumphant bounce. With that final, jarring impact, my fingers were finally, irrevocably, torn from their roots. Something inside me shattered with an audible crack. I could no longer hold on, and the world spun into darkness as I slumped forward onto the piano. As I coughed up blood and fainted, the last image burned into my mind was Leo Maxwell leaning close to my wife, whispering something into her ear, making her laugh, her body shaking with delight. I closed my eyes in despair, two hot tears tracing paths down my temples. Vicki Hayes, all these years I spent with you… they were truly a mistake. If there was a way to undo it, a magic pill to erase you, I would take it. I would rather have never met you.

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I had a secret. A chilling, impossible secret. After I killed someone, I could steal their memories from the past three years. Before my college entrance exams, I killed my academic prodigy boyfriend. And I got into a good university. 1 When did I first discover this… ability? It was when I was nine. My parents got divorced, and custody was awarded to my mother. I loved Mom, but deep down, I loved Dad more. I often snuck off to see him, to play. But one day, when I went to find him, I walked in on him kissing a woman I didn’t know. My parents had always kept me shielded from such things; it was the first time I’d seen a man and a woman kiss. The woman’s lips were painted a vivid, predatory crimson, so red they looked ready to devour. A surge of anger coiled in my gut. Even at that tender age, I understood. It was my father who had done something wrong, which was why they’d divorced. My father was a bad man. Furious, I stormed into his car and scattered a handful of marbles. They’d surely jab his backside, and maybe make that woman trip and fall. Instead, the marbles jammed the brake pads, causing the brakes to fail. The woman ended up in a coma, and my father died instantly at the scene. The police reviewed the surveillance footage and found I’d put marbles in the car. But a nine-year-old child, they reasoned, knew nothing and bore no criminal responsibility. Moreover, I was openly distraught, weeping uncontrollably over the loss of my father. No one blamed me. Everyone just pitied me. Yet, even as I wept, a torrent of new memories flooded my mind. Within those memories, I saw the woman’s face. So my father had been… “bad” long before that. I saw my mother and father arguing, saw my father secretly taking money from the household. I saw the woman and my father entwined, their repulsive entanglement nauseating me. I threw up. My mother and the police assumed I was simply overwhelmed by grief, my body giving out. Only I knew the truth: it was pure disgust. A child, still so small, I had witnessed two beasts entwined. 2 Unexpectedly, my sorrow vanished rather quickly. What lingered, however, was the disgust. And simultaneously, I realized something unique about myself. When I was little, I dared not speak of it; as I grew, I simply chose not to. It wasn’t until I was much older that I truly grasped the full implications of this ability. In middle school, Chloe, the girl from next door, and I were in the same class and incredibly close. We walked to and from school together, inseparable, even going to the restroom in tandem. Our teachers jokingly called us conjoined twins. Chloe wasn’t exactly kind, but she was beautiful, far prettier than me. Sometimes I’d overhear whispers: “There’s the princess and her little sidekick.” I didn’t really care, but Chloe always seemed to bask in it. I figured that was one of the reasons we were such good friends. No one likes to be outshone, especially by someone they’re close to. Chloe enjoyed feeling superior to me, and in a way, that proved she genuinely considered me a close friend. I was incredibly good to Chloe, so much so that she became quite dependent on me. Her grades were always better than mine, except for Math. So I always did her Math homework for her, meticulously neat. During regular quizzes, I, being the Math class monitor, would help Ms. Davis grade papers in the office. And whenever I did, I’d secretly correct a few of Chloe’s mistakes, bumping up her score. Until one day, Ms. Davis found out. Ms. Davis didn’t scold me for altering the grades; instead, she laid into Chloe. Ms. Davis had always disliked Chloe’s pretty, fashion-conscious demeanor, and her poor Math grades only fueled that disdain. “All day long, your mind is on anything but your studies, always plotting these sneaky little tricks!” she snapped. “Girls like you will never amount to anything more than a pretty face.” Chloe’s eyes immediately welled up. With a loud thump, she shoved her desk aside and bolted out of the classroom. Ms. Davis initially scoffed, but when Chloe didn’t return, a flicker of worry crossed her face, fearing something might have happened. After teaching for a bit, she couldn’t contain herself and asked me to go check on Chloe. I knew exactly where Chloe would be. She’d be in the janitor’s closet next to the third-floor staff lounge. Whenever Chloe was upset, she’d retreat into that tiny space. I quietly pushed open the closet door, squeezed inside, and huddled beside Chloe. Chloe didn’t look at me, and I didn’t look at her. I knew her. She didn’t want me to see her looking so vulnerable. After a while, Chloe spoke. “I hate Ms. Davis,” she mumbled. “Neither do I,” I said, feeling a perverse satisfaction. My childish solidarity made her crack a small smile. “Let’s go back,” she said. “Okay.” Chloe and my friendship grew even stronger. But sometimes, you just had to admit it: academic ability truly was a matter of innate talent. I tried, I really did, but when it came to studies, I simply had no knack for it. Chloe and I spent every day together, dedicating almost the same amount of time to studying. Yet Chloe’s grades kept improving, steadily rising in every subject, even her Math was quickly catching up to mine. Sometimes she’d offer to tutor me, but I just couldn’t grasp it. My mother often compared me to Chloe, and I hated disappointing her. I only had my mother left. Watching my grades stagnate, I grew increasingly anxious. A vague, dark idea began to coalesce in my mind. What if I killed Chloe? If I killed Chloe, I would gain all her middle school memories – three years of them. Some thoughts are like persistent weeds; once they sprout in your mind, they refuse to be uprooted. I had a plan. Just last year, the school had installed new air conditioning units; they worked incredibly well. Many older students would joke bitterly that the school only installed AC after they’d graduated. Chloe was quite short, always sitting in the first or second row, while I sat in the fifth or sixth. As summer approached, the school gradually switched on the air conditioning. I’d often complain about the heat, then during breaks, I’d stroll over to Chloe’s desk. While chatting with her, I’d casually crank the AC to 16 degrees Celsius on full blast. The moment the bell rang, I’d leave. Sometimes Chloe would remember to turn it back, sometimes she wouldn’t. So Chloe often sat through an entire class session blasted by cold air. Just a few days prior, Chloe and I had gone shopping downtown. I mentioned my mother had told me to stock up on cold medicine and asked if she needed any. “Cold medicine in the middle of summer? What for?” she’d asked. “My mom says I’m constantly in air-conditioned rooms at home and school, but then I’m out in the heat sweating. The drastic temperature changes make it easy to catch a cold, so she told me to get some meds just in case.” Chloe hesitated, then agreed it made sense, and bought the same medicine as me. When I saw Chloe blowing her nose and complaining of a headache, I knew my chance had come. That afternoon after school, Chloe and I walked home together, as usual. “Let’s sit by the riverside park for a bit,” I suggested. We often stopped there after school to relax and chat, so it wasn’t unusual. I pulled Chloe along, deliberately guiding her to a spot within view of the nearby convenience store’s surveillance cameras. I told Chloe to open her backpack. She unzipped it to find two bottles of alcohol, and they looked pretty potent. She pulled the bottles out. “Ta-da! A surprise for you!” she exclaimed. “We’re almost high schoolers. Don’t you want to try it?” I turned slightly, letting my hair fall forward to obscure my mouth. I knew Chloe well. Beneath her compliant facade, she harbored a streak of rebellion. Chloe’s parents were always quite strict with her. She secretly yearned for something wild, something transgressive, but she’d never had the opportunity. Chloe held the bottles, then handed one to me. I turned, feigning sudden apprehension, a flicker of regret. I waved my hand. “Maybe we shouldn’t? Chloe, won’t your mom and dad be mad?” Hearing that, Chloe’s resolve only stiffened. “It’s fine! Just one sip!” I maintained my hesitant expression until Chloe forcefully pressed a bottle into my hand. We talked for hours. We discussed recent exams, our futures, our detested Math teacher, and the breathtaking sunset. She apologized to me. She said sometimes she couldn’t help but treat me like her little sidekick. She said I was her best friend, that I always would be. I said, “Yes.” Seeing that it was getting late, I patted Chloe’s shoulder and suggested we head home. I hadn’t actually drunk much; every time I raised the bottle, it was just a tiny sip. Chloe, however, seemed quite tipsy, struggling to get to her feet. I’d done my research: Chloe’s mother was working late shifts all week, and her father had the night shift. Chloe would be home alone. I looked at Chloe. “Bye, Chloe.” “See you tomorrow.” “Oh, and one more thing.” I smiled, meeting her eyes. “You’ve got a bit of a cold coming on. Remember to take your cold medicine when you get home.” Chloe smiled and nodded, her eyes, in the fading light of the sunset, held a gentle, flickering flame. I calmly returned home, ate dinner with my mother, and finished my homework as usual. Then I drifted peacefully into sleep. The next morning, a sharp pain shot through my head. I found my mind suddenly crowded with new memories. I knew. I had succeeded. 3 Chloe was dead. Chloe’s mother found her collapsed in the living room when she came home that night. By the time they got her to the hospital, it was too late. Police investigation concluded she had died from poisoning, a lethal reaction to consuming antibiotics and alcohol simultaneously. In an age before widespread internet access, as middle schoolers, we weren’t fully aware of such common knowledge. Except for me, armed with three years of my father’s memories. That’s right. The cold medicine Chloe and I had bought that day contained cephalosporin, a common antibiotic. It had all gone too smoothly, beyond my wildest expectations. I’d considered so many possibilities: Chloe might not have taken the medicine. Chloe might have taken medicine, but not the cephalosporin. Chloe might have felt unwell and called for help in time. Her mother might have come home early and stopped her. Could such seamless success mean that fate itself was on my side? As Chloe’s best friend, and the last person to see her alive, I was called to the police station for questioning. I was a minor, so a parent had to accompany me. Facing the police officers, I looked utterly terrified. My mother comforted me. “It’s okay, honey, the officers just want to ask you a few questions.” “Yes, don’t be scared, little one, we just have some questions for you,” the officer added kindly. They clearly didn’t suspect a young girl like me could be capable of anything nefarious. “According to the victim’s mother, Chloe didn’t usually drink alcohol, yet you two were drinking that day. Why was that?” I looked scared, turning to my mother. My mother gave my arm a reassuring pat, signaling that it was fine, just to tell the truth. “Chloe said she wanted to try drinking that day, just for a thrill. She suddenly pulled two bottles of alcohol out of her bag.” I paused, my voice trembling. “I really didn’t want to drink, and I tried to convince her not to, but who would have thought…” As I spoke, tears began to stream down my face, uncontrolled. The officer nodded. The surveillance footage indeed showed Chloe practically forcing the bottle into my hand. The police asked a few more innocuous questions, then let me leave. The case was ultimately classified as a tragic consequence of adolescent rebellion and a fatal lack of basic knowledge. Chloe’s death was even publicized within the school as a cautionary tale. I sorted through the torrent of new thoughts in my mind, like discovering a new continent. Chloe’s mind, it turned out, contained an astonishing wealth of knowledge. My grades skyrocketed, making my mother incredibly happy. I was thrilled. On the day of the middle school entrance exams, I performed flawlessly, earning my desired spot at Northwood Academy, the best high school in the city. My mother sold our house and bought a new one in a desirable school district near Northwood Academy. My new bedroom was spacious, with a large window. I even had my own study. During the summer, my mother enrolled me in a high school preparatory course. So when high school started, I wasn’t completely overwhelmed. But I knew this wasn’t a sustainable solution. I lacked any real academic talent; I simply wasn’t intelligent. Even with Chloe’s solid knowledge base, I would eventually fall behind. My last success had relied too heavily on luck. This time, I needed to meticulously plan my high school years.

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1 Two days before our planned wedding, Victoria left me stranded on a winding mountain road to pick up Blake, her male assistant, for a celebration dinner. When my car plummeted off the cliff during the crash, she was busy having a heated tryst with Blake in her own car. My desperate calls for help, dozens of them, met with a busy signal, drowned out by their ecstatic cries. When I was rushed to the ER, I begged the nurse to inform her. But on the other end of the line, Victoria raged, “Tell him to call me when he’s dead! If he’s not dead, leave me alone! Always causing trouble, day in and day out!” The moment I closed my eyes, my heart turned to ash. The first thing I did after waking from surgery was cancel our wedding registration. “Alex, where the hell are you?! I’ve been waiting at City Hall for ten minutes!” Victoria’s voice, blazing with fury, screamed through the phone. “I was in a car accident. I’m at the hospital.” “Oh, and I forgot to tell you, I canceled our wedding.” Every breath tasted of antiseptic, and my entire body ached as if it had been put through a meat grinder. A long silence hung on the other end. “Well, then, let’s not register for now.” Her casual tone, delivering the most cutting words, instantly froze me. “Good timing, actually. I’m taking the staff on a trip this long weekend.” She hung up before I could even respond. I stared at the disconnected call, a chill spreading through me. Not a single word of concern, not a single apology. As if I were just some ordinary stranger. Ten years of devotion, poured down the drain. I had loved the wrong person. I was hospitalized for seven days. Seven days during which Victoria never once appeared, never even made a single call. Scrolling through Blake’s social media, I discovered that Victoria’s “employee trip” was just a solo vacation to Hawaii with him. Hawaii, the very place I had always dreamed of for our honeymoon. Now she was there with another man. Blake’s photo showed him in swim trunks by the glassy ocean, a matching ring gleaming on his hand. In the background, in a blurry corner, Victoria’s silhouette was unmistakable. 【Business perk from the boss lady!】 I’d seen those very rings in Victoria’s pocket once. I’d thought they were a surprise for our wedding registration. I even had a diamond ring, her favorite, ready for her. Just my foolish self-delusion, again. I scoffed and “liked” the post. Unexpectedly, my phone rang the very next second. It was Victoria. “Alex, are you looking for trouble?! What’s with the passive-aggressive ‘like’?! Blake’s threatening to come back now, you think round-trip tickets are free?!” Her accusatory tone sent a hot flush to my throat. “Apologize to Blake immediately! He just helped me close a massive contract last month. If he quits, I swear, I’m not done with you!” Faced with Victoria’s accusations, I couldn’t even be bothered to expose her lies. Rings worth hundreds of thousands for an employee at a celebration dinner, even matching couple’s rings, and then a private Hawaiian getaway with him? It was their wedding and honeymoon, practically. I hung up, unliking the post. Staring at the last number on my recent calls, I finally dialed. “Amelia, I want to come back to you. Do you still want me?” Her voice, laced with endless affection, came through the line. “I told you, my side is always open for you, no matter what.” At that moment, tears streamed down my face. “Then I’ll wait for you to come home.” Amelia, my stepsister, was an exceptional computer engineer who had moved abroad after graduating college. She had always taken great care of me, but after I insisted on being with Victoria, she had ruthlessly cut off contact. I hung up the phone, a bitter tide instantly surged through me. My last ten years had been wasted on a total scumbag. The day I was discharged from the hospital, Victoria returned too. It was late at night when she got home. I had just finished washing the accumulated laundry and was standing on the balcony, lost in thought. In my hand was a condom I’d found in her pocket. Victoria and Blake appeared downstairs, locked in an inseparable embrace. The sight was like a needle piercing my heart, so painful I couldn’t breathe. There was a time, not so long ago, when Victoria and I were like that, too. She was my senior in college. By my sophomore year, she was already starting her own business. Every time I returned to campus, she’d cling to me, kissing and hugging, begging me to stay just a little longer. I truly believed such intense affection would lead to a perfect ending, which was why I rejected Amelia’s plans to move abroad and chose to stay in the country, supporting Victoria’s startup. And yet, this was the devastating conclusion. The sound of a door opening echoed from behind me, followed by Victoria’s scolding. “What’s going on? Why is the house such a mess!” Victoria frowned the moment she walked in, surveying the room. She was a germaphobe. I always did the cleaning myself, meticulous about every corner, terrified she’d be uncomfortable if the cleaning lady missed something. Each time she broke out in a rash, I’d blame myself for not cleaning thoroughly enough. Now, I realize all my efforts had become her expectation, a reason to be taken for granted. Victoria’s phone vibrated incessantly in her hand, and she glanced down, smiling as she replied to messages. She nudged the suitcase at her feet with a kick, not even looking up. “Since you’re doing laundry anyway, wash the clothes in this suitcase. I can’t stay in this mess. I’m going to a hotel. Call me when you’ve cleaned everything.” Victoria put her phone away, a dismissive instruction, and turned to leave. Watching her back, I called out to stop her. “Wait.” I limped after her. Her eyes fell on my knee. “Were you actually hurt?” A flicker of confusion crossed her eyes, and she frowned. “I thought you were just making it up…” I didn’t explain. I simply pressed the condom into her hand. “Take this. You’ll need it.” Victoria and I hadn’t used those in a long time. She knew exactly who would need it. 2 Victoria stared at the item in her hand, a flicker of surprise crossing her eyes, immediately replaced by a blaze of fury. “This was for us, from ages ago! I just put it aside for when we started trying for a baby. I don’t know what you’re being so paranoid about!” “If you kept the house spotless, why would I need to stay in a hotel?” Victoria’s face turned crimson, her features contorted. Her furious tirade, loud and direct, was laced with an undeniable undercurrent of guilt. Before I could even say a word, she hurled the condom at me. A sharp corner of the box sliced open my forehead. I stumbled, grabbing the edge of the dining table to steady myself. “I’m not being paranoid. I just thought, if this was in your pocket, then giving it back to you…” “Enough! Don’t try to argue!” she shrieked. “You’re in your thirties! Still acting like some jealous high-school kid? So, I guess I should just hire all women from now on, and put a ‘No Men Allowed’ sign on the office door!” “I’m truly sick of you!” Victoria kicked over her suitcase, slammed the door shut, and vanished. Among the scattered luggage, I noticed a pair of black boxer briefs, not the brand I usually bought, VK. I crouched down, picking up the boxers. My heart felt like it was being torn apart. When I proposed to Victoria, I spent every penny I had on the ring. But now, that ring was long gone. Replaced by a new pair of matching rings. I’d told her back then that I dreamed of a Hawaiian honeymoon, and she went to Hawaii. Replaced by a new man. I meticulously cleaned the house, again and again. When I was exhausted, I sat down, fighting back the tears. I didn’t stop until my hands were raw and waterlogged, almost translucent. I took a paper bag and gathered all of Blake’s belongings I found from Victoria’s pockets: two pairs of boxers, a lighter, and three condoms. The next day, I brought them to Blake’s desk at work. Blake opened the bag, a smirk playing on his lips. “Alex, my bad, my memory’s terrible. I’m always misplacing things…” I forced myself to ignore the blatant provocation in his eyes. “No worries,” I said. Victoria’s company had a partner, Chloe. Chloe’s husband, David, and I handled the company’s finances. I had just settled into my desk when I saw Blake saunter into Victoria’s office. A few minutes later, he came out chuckling. Victoria must have smoothed things over again. Closer to noon, Victoria came over to ask me about a financial matter, all the while subtly studying my expression. Seeing I showed no reaction, Victoria slammed a box onto my desk. “This is a gift I brought back from Hawaii for you. I forgot to give it to you yesterday when you were throwing a tantrum.” “And for our registration, I had Blake rebook the appointment for us.” My hand, on the mouse, faltered slightly. Blake booked it. Last time, he made a spectacle of our appointment, openly provoking me. What would the next one bring? I found myself strangely anticipating it. It was a Chanel box, but the ribbon was missing. I opened it to find a pair of cufflinks, but a few of the diamonds were missing. In the past, Victoria always brought me gifts from her business trips, whether exquisite or designer. But after Blake, I only received used, cheap things that he didn’t want. “Thanks,” I mumbled, not even bothering to look up. I closed the box and tossed it into the trash can. “What do you mean by that?!” Victoria’s patience was wearing thin. I met her gaze directly. “Victoria, I’m not so desperate that I need to use someone else’s discarded hand-me-downs.” 3 Victoria’s face darkened considerably. “Fine, whatever, Alex. Just don’t come crying and begging me later.” She marched straight back into her office. Blake followed her in, not forgetting to give me a smug look before he went. Victoria and I had always kept our relationship a secret. At the company, she was my superior, and I was her subordinate. Over time, it had become an open secret. But now, Victoria and Blake’s blatant disregard for professionalism in the office made my past self look utterly ridiculous. She had made me the laughingstock of the entire company. Everyone in the office avoided looking our way, fearing they’d stumble into the awkward tension of a love triangle. Instead, they congregated in the restroom, chattering about gossip. “Oh my God, did you see Blake just went into Victoria’s office, and then she went right in after him?” “Alex is so pathetic. My friend from business school told me they were together for ten years! Who gets ten years back?!” “You guys wouldn’t believe it, Blake was throwing a tantrum today, I don’t know what about. Victoria just directly transferred him half a million to buy that new electric car!” I crouched in the restroom, tears blurring my vision. Buying rings, buying cars, buying houses—Victoria truly intended to build a life with him. I tried hard to ignore the pain in my heart, reminding myself that I had to move on. Returning home alone after work, I started packing my bags. Victoria came home a little tipsy, sitting on the sofa, waiting for me to attend to her like I used to. But this time, I didn’t move. “Alex, where’s the hangover soup?” In the past, Victoria often came home completely drunk after closing deals. Every time, I’d have a special hangover soup ready, waiting to take care of her. I’d also wash her face, help her change, so she wouldn’t be too uncomfortable falling asleep. “No time to make it. There’s some hangover medicine in the cupboard. Take one yourself.” I didn’t even look up, walking directly into the bathroom to pack. She stumbled over, watching my movements, her face falling. “That’s enough, Alex. How long are you going to keep this tantrum up?” Victoria slapped my hand away, her eyes bloodshot, concealing endless fury. But I didn’t utter a word to stop her as she stormed toward the front door. I clearly saw her silhouette freeze at the entrance. In all our past arguments, I was always the one to apologize and yield. But this time, I was tired. Truly too tired to compromise. The sound of the door closing echoed, and a heavy weight lifted from my heart. I actually felt a flicker of relief. Later that night, unable to sleep, I received Amelia’s flight details for her return. “Alex, my flight’s the day after tomorrow, afternoon. Arriving in the evening.” The next second, I received a video from Blake. In the video, Victoria was completely drunk, and Blake, shirtless, was holding her. 【Alex, just so you don’t misunderstand, I specially sent you this video to prove that Victoria and I really aren’t what you think. Why don’t you come pick her up?】 Misunderstand? They were practically naked, putting on a show for me. I felt both helpless and amused. 【You can take care of her just fine.】 The next morning, I was woken by commotion outside the door. The noisy voices made me frown. I heard Blake’s sharp, high-pitched voice. “Boss, Alex isn’t still asleep, is he?! Will he be annoyed by us making noise?” I stepped out into the living room, watching Victoria and Blake walk in, laden with food and drinks. Blake casually kicked off his shoes, and Victoria, without a word, bent down to pick them up and place them neatly in the shoe rack. This sight stabbed at my eyes. She was such a germaphobe, yet now she was willing to pick up a man’s shoes. But when I was sick, she wouldn’t even change my clothes. “Alex, you’re awake! The sun’s already high, and Victoria and I have been grocery shopping all morning!” I frowned, looking at Victoria. She looked away, a little uncomfortable. “It’s Blake’s birthday today. He insisted on having your stir-fried blue crab with rice cakes.” My hands, clasped behind my back, clenched into fists. Just one more day. Just one more day. I turned and walked into the kitchen to prepare the blue crab. I didn’t like the dish, but Victoria did. So it had become my signature dish. I watched them through the glass door, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the sofa, playing It Takes Two on a Switch. I loved that game, but Victoria had never had the patience to play it with me. She always said I was childish and boring, that girls hated video games. Yet now, she was having a blast playing with Blake. I didn’t know if it was my imagination, but Victoria kept glancing my way, as if expecting me to react. But I pretended not to notice. With a loud “thump” from the game, Blake seemed to have done something exciting, and he pulled Victoria into a deep kiss. I stood there, holding a large platter of food, watching Victoria being kissed. “Alex, I just got carried away with the game, sorry about that, you don’t mind, do you?” Blake asked, his hand remaining firmly on Victoria’s shoulder. “Not at all.” I shook my head, placed the last dish on the table, and untied my apron. “You two enjoy. I have something to do; I’m heading out.” Victoria looked up and asked where I was going, but I ignored her. For some reason, her face was a stormy mess.

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I died in my wife’s courtyard, forced to give my lifeblood for her childhood love. Before my last breath, my five-year-old son Ethan begged Queen Eleanor three times to save me. First, Ethan rushed in, saying I was coughing blood. She sneered, “He’s teaching the boy to lie,” and had him removed. Second, Ethan pounded on her door, crying I was convulsing. She scoffed, “It’s just a little blood, not his heart,” and sent him away. Third, Ethan knelt, forehead to the ground, pleading I was unconscious. Enraged, Eleanor yanked him up, tore his clothes, and threw him out. “Your father won’t die! Disturb me again, and I’ll dump him in a pauper’s grave!” Desperate, Ethan traded his princely amulet to a beggar for a healer. But Marcus Thorne, Eleanor’s lover, intercepted the healer, smirking, “Your father sent all healers to my kennels for my dogs. He’ll have to wait.” 1 To stop the last healer, my son had cried and pleaded before Marcus Thorne. The boy who had once refused to acknowledge Marcus’s existence now called him “Uncle Marcus” with every breath. He cast aside all his pride, willingly kneeling before the man. “Uncle Marcus, I beg you, please let a healer tend to my father.” He spoke between agonizing thumps of his head against the ground. Blood stained the flagstones, only sweetening Marcus’s mood. He chuckled, stroking the small dog in his arms, a triumphant grin on his face. “Look at this. Our little Lord. Even more obedient than my own dog.” He paused, a cruel glint in his eyes. “Come on, bark for me.” My son stiffened, tears mixing with fresh blood as they hit the dirt. “Woof.” The servants present burst into laughter, their scornful gazes raking over my son’s small, trembling body. “Calling himself a Lord? He’s worse than a street urchin!” “Shh! Don’t be foolish! If the Queen hears you, do you want to lose your head?” “What does it matter? Everyone in the capital knows the Queen only cares for Lord Marcus. Haven’t you noticed the Lord Heir is five years old and still doesn’t even have a proper name?” Hearing the servants’ whispers, Marcus’s smugness grew. He sneered, then turned and walked away, leaving my son kneeling in despair, his body trembling uncontrollably. I lay in my sickbed, as if sensing something, and convulsed, spitting out a mouthful of blood. The door creaked open. “I’m sorry, Father. Your son is useless. I couldn’t find a healer.” Ethan came to my bedside, clumsily trying to wipe the blood from my lips, his eyes frighteningly swollen. But I could no longer see clearly. Through my blurring vision, I knew: I was dying. I wouldn’t live to see my child grow up. To spare him my dying sight, I summoned my last ounce of strength, forcing a smile, and sent him away. “Father wants some almond pastries from the bakery down the street. Will you go buy some for him, please?” My son froze for a few seconds, as if realizing something, and shook his head violently. “No, I won’t go. I’ll stay with you, Father. Please don’t make me leave.” He gripped my hand tightly, as if he intended to shed every tear he possessed in that moment. Swallowing the bloody foam in my mouth, I feigned anger. “Are you disobeying your father? Buy the almond pastries, and Father will eat them with you.” Seeing my feigned anger, my son no longer insisted. He quickly wiped away his tears and agreed. “Okay, I’ll go buy them right now. Father, wait for me. You must wait for me.” As he stepped out of the room, I used my last breath to shout. “Ethan!” Meeting his confused gaze, I explained. “Father has given you a name.” “From now on, you shall be called Ethan. It means bright and upright.” “Father hopes you will be righteous, healthy, and… forever joyful.” My son turned, his expression panicked. “Father…” My consciousness began to blur. I bit hard on my lip, a bloody smile touching my lips. “Go now. Father will wait for your return.” My son seemed relieved and ran off with hurried steps. As his figure vanished, I closed my eyes. “Ethan, I’m sorry, Father lied to you.” 2 When I opened my eyes again, I found myself a spirit, following my son out of the Royal Palace. “Waiter! Waiter! I want some almond pastries!” My son clutched the server’s sleeve, calling out anxiously. Seeing my son’s disheveled face, the server irritably waved him off, shooing him away. “Go on, scram, you little street urchin! Is this any place for the likes of you?” Other customers in the shop covered their noses, looking at him as if he were a pile of refuse. “Exactly. Look where you are. What kind of person dares to waltz in here?” “Filthy!” The server, hearing the customers, quickly offered a few appeasing smiles, then brutally twisted my son’s ear. “You little rascal! Get out!” My son cried out in pain. “I’m the Royal Heir! My father is sick, and I need to buy him almond pastries!” Everyone froze, then burst into laughter. The server put his hands on his hips and spat directly at my son’s face. “You? Ha! I spit on you!” “Go on, take a look in a puddle. See if anything on your body resembles a noble child! If you’re the Royal Heir, then I’m your great-grandfather! Now get out, out, out!” He then forcibly ejected my son from the shop. My son wiped the grime from his face, trying to go back inside, but the server kicked him hard in the stomach. The pain made him unable to rise. Just as despair washed over him, a hand suddenly reached out. “Child, are you alright?” A young woman carefully brushed the dust from my son’s clothes, her voice full of concern. “Mother…” My son instinctively called out, seeing the woman’s tall figure. Then, realizing his mistake, he mumbled a thank you. The woman waved her hand, then pulled out a packet of almond pastries and offered them to my son. Perhaps having endured too many indignities that day, faced with a stranger’s kindness, my son’s eyes suddenly welled up. Clutching the oiled paper bag, he bowed repeatedly. “Thank you, madam.” The woman, a little embarrassed, replied, “No need to thank me. This packet of almond pastries isn’t even mine.” “It’s from Queen Eleanor. To celebrate the Prince Consort’s recovery, she’s been distributing food and pastries outside the city. I just happened to get one.” “If you truly wish to thank someone, then wish Queen Eleanor and the Prince Consort a long and loving life together.” My son stiffened, the memory of Eleanor dragging him from the main hall flashing in his mind. Then, the images he’d witnessed: Eleanor forcing Father to offer his vital essence. His eyes gradually dimmed. “I understand. Thank you… Queen Eleanor.” My heart felt a hundred times more painful than the moment it had been pierced. I watched my son’s desolate expression and remembered the past. In truth, Eleanor once loved me and our son dearly. On the day of his birth, she risked both our lives to bear a child of my bloodline. When I was cornered by the Crown Prince, she fearlessly stormed into the East Palace, her eyes blazing, and brought me back to our home. She even whispered to me on her birthday that her wish was for our family to never be separated. But all of that ended the day Marcus Thorne returned to the capital. He leveraged his childhood bond with Eleanor, repeatedly feigning helplessness and innocence to gain her sympathy. Then, he deliberately poisoned himself, framing me and our son, causing Eleanor to completely turn her back on us. From that moment on, everything changed. On the street, the young woman nodded approvingly and asked, “By the way, where is your mother? How could she let you run off alone?” My son froze, about to speak, when a gentle male voice sounded from behind them. “My dear.” A tall, young man, holding a boy about my son’s age, smiled and called out. “It’s getting late. We should head home.” “Mom, let’s go home,” the boy said, clutching a candied hawthorn stick, his smile innocent and lively. The woman hummed in acknowledgment and hurried to walk between the two, one hand holding the man’s, the other the child’s, gradually receding into the distance. It wasn’t until their figures completely vanished that my son slowly withdrew his envious gaze. He looked at the almond pastries in his hand and finished the sentence he couldn’t before. “My mother… she died.” 3 After bidding farewell to the kind stranger, my son hurried back to the Royal Palace, clutching the almond pastries. But just as he entered the gate, he collided with a casually strolling Marcus Thorne. Marcus recoiled, a look of instant disgust flashing across his defined features, and raised his hand, delivering a harsh slap to my son’s face. “You filthy mongrel! Who gave you the right to touch me?” My son, caught off guard, stumbled and fell. Blood quickly welled up at the corner of his mouth, and the oiled paper bag in his arms flew from his grasp. Ignoring the pain, my son scrambled to retrieve it. But Marcus wasn’t satisfied. He grabbed my son’s hair, forcing his eyes open. “Just as I thought, a bastard like your useless father, always playing the victim.” “I’m warning you, stop putting on that pathetic act. If the Queen sees it, I won’t spare you, understand?” His eyes were cruel, as if he wished my son would simply vanish. I was driven to a frenzy of my own, frantically trying to pull his hand away, but it was all useless. Self-reproach and powerlessness choked me, yet Marcus only smiled wider, a look of triumph on his face. He motioned for a servant to open the spilled paper bag on the ground. Seeing this, my son immediately began to struggle. “Those are for Father! You can’t touch them! Give them back!” At the word “Father,” Marcus’s face darkened. He raised his foot and kicked my son directly in the stomach, making him cough up a mouthful of blood. “What ‘father’? From now on, I’m your father!” With that, he poured all the almond pastries onto the ground and ground them underfoot, repeatedly. Witnessing this, my son’s eyes instantly reddened. He bit Marcus hard, thinking he could make him stop. Marcus cried out in pain and ordered the servants to lift my son. He unfastened the jade pendant from his waist, shoved it into my son’s mouth, and repeatedly stabbed at it. “You filthy mongrel, I’ll teach you to bite!” Blood quickly stained my son’s clothes. He thrashed in agony, like a fish dying on land. “Mmmph… Father… save me…” My heart shattered. I furiously clawed at Marcus, like a madman, wanting him to let go. Let go of my Ethan! It was no use. I then knelt on the ground, kowtowing repeatedly to Marcus. You want my lifeblood? Take it! You want the Prince Consort’s title? It’s yours! I’ll give you anything, just please, don’t hurt my child! Marcus couldn’t hear me. He only admired the growing wounds around my son’s mouth, laughing heartily. As he basked in his triumph, a gentle female voice suddenly sounded from behind him. “Marcus?” Eleanor’s disbelieving voice startled everyone present. My son’s unfocused eyes suddenly brightened, his lips moving. “Mother…” Eleanor’s expression tightened. She started to walk over, but Marcus, turning, drew her into his embrace, stopping her. “Eleanor, why did you take so long?” He subtly motioned for the servants to block my son from view, then expertly held Eleanor close. Eleanor sensed something was wrong and frowned. “What are you doing?” Marcus’s eyes flickered, and he put on a vulnerable expression. “You weren’t here just now. The Heir, I don’t know who provoked him, but he kept insulting me, and… he even deliberately tripped me. You know, my body is just recovering from the poison. The healers said…” Eleanor’s face darkened, and the confusion in her eyes instantly morphed into furious disappointment. “Arthur Blackwood truly knows less and less how to raise a child!” “With a father like him, it’s no wonder the Heir is so unruly.” With that, she turned and swept out. I stood in front of Eleanor, explaining frantically. No, it’s not like that. Ethan is very well-behaved. Marcus is lying to you! Don’t abandon my Ethan, don’t abandon him! My son heard her words too, and, despite the pain, called out, “Mother!” But as soon as the word left his lips, a servant clapped a hand over his mouth. Eleanor paused, her back to us, wanting to turn around. “Did the Heir call for me?” A flash of malice crossed Marcus’s eyes, then he feigned letting go of Eleanor’s hand. “Then go be with the Heir. I’m fine. Even if he did poison me and almost kept me from seeing you again, he’s still a child. I forgive him.” “Eleanor, go to him. Don’t worry about me.” Hearing that, Eleanor’s momentary hesitation instantly solidified into resolve. “An unpolished gem is useless. Since Arthur Blackwood can’t teach him manners, Marcus, you help me teach him well.” “Save him from being lawless and bringing shame upon me.” “I’ll wait for you in the annex.” Watching her retreating back, the light in my son’s eyes gradually faded, until only a dead silence remained. Marcus smugly curled his lips, walked over to my son, and looked at him with feigned pity. “See? Your mother doesn’t even want you.” “How pathetic.”

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The night before my wedding, I stumbled on the stairs and lost the child I carried. Jeff Thorne rushed me to the operating room, frantic. As I slowly emerged from the general anesthesia, I faintly heard the doctor whispering to him: “It’s truly regrettable. Five months along, the fetus was perfectly formed, incredibly healthy.” “Regrettable? It’s just an unformed embryo,” Jeff’s voice was cold as frost. “Ms. Lindbergh’s body suffered severe trauma. It’s unlikely she’ll be able to conceive again…” “She can be a stepmother to Daisy’s and my child. Without the ability to bear her own, perhaps she’ll love our child even more.” I was wheeled out of the operating room, silent tears tracing paths down my cheeks. The man I had trusted with my entire heart was, it turned out, a monster. My long-awaited wedding was nothing more than a death warrant for my child. If that’s the case, I’ll grant his wish. 1 “Mr. Thorne, the baby is very healthy. It’s a perfectly formed boy. Would you like to see him?” “Just dispose of him as medical waste. And don’t bother preserving her uterus or ovaries; just make sure she doesn’t find out.” “Once she recovers, I’ll take her to the orphanage to adopt Annie. Without the ability to conceive, she’ll surely treat Annie as her own,” Jeff’s cold, authoritative voice left no room for dissent. The doctor glanced at my weak form on the operating table, hesitating. “But the madam’s body has been severely traumatized. Her uterine wall is very thin, making future conception difficult. Forcing this… wouldn’t that put her life at risk?” “And your child with Ms. Duval is already quite grown. It might be hard to hide it from the madam. What if she discovers you personally pushed her down the stairs?” “She won’t know.” Jeff spoke calmly, then tenderly lifted my hand, sliding a ten-carat flawless diamond ring onto my ring finger as if I were a precious treasure. “Say no more. The rest, I will spend my life making up for.” … In the hospital room, Jeff gently wiped my forehead, then pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “Clara, I had the doctors use the finest cosmetic sutures for you; there won’t be a scar.” “This anesthetic won’t wear off too quickly. You’re weak, so sleep a little longer.” He didn’t know I had regained consciousness, only barely managing to suppress my tears. Six years of devotion, the wedding I had longed for—it was all a monstrous illusion, a cruel conspiracy. He already had a child with another woman, yet he had lied, telling me Daisy Duval was just his adopted sister. The man I had loved for six years, the father of my unborn child, was also the very monster who had personally extinguished his life. I finally endured until dawn, hearing Jeff’s quiet footsteps as he rose and left. Unable to hold back any longer, I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. The sharp, persistent ache in my lower abdomen was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. My trembling fingers traced the surgical incision. Inside, there was no longer the tiny life I had nurtured for five months. I turned on a live stream from a tabloid. It was the meticulously planned garden wedding I had spent half a year arranging. “Today marks the wedding of Mr. Thorne, CEO of Everest Group. The bride, previously hidden from the public eye, is finally being unveiled to the world. The moment has arrived…” The sprawling, manicured lawn and stone pathways unfolded like a scene from a movie. Jeff embraced Daisy from behind as a flock of white doves soared into the sky, a breathtaking display of pure white. “Daisy, a surprise I meticulously prepared for you. Do you like it?” “I know you dislike formalities. Today, our wedding is just for us, no need to honor parents or elders.” Daisy let out a silvery laugh, blushing as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love it, Jeff. You’re so thoughtful.” The two kissed passionately, surrounded by a chorus of blessings and cheers. Tears fell, one by one, onto the screen, blurring the scene before my eyes. I had waited for so long, never imagining that I wouldn’t be the bride. For three years of marriage, I had tirelessly cared for his parents, willingly living as his secret wife. Yet, he bestowed all his romantic gestures upon another, leaving me only with the constraints and burdens of marriage. 2 Jeff didn’t return that night. The next day, before I fully awoke from my daze, I heard him on the phone. “…Have all news of yesterday’s wedding been suppressed? Clara must not find out.” When I opened my eyes, he was already seated by my bedside, gazing at me with a look of feigned concern. “Clara, you’re awake?” “Jeff, our baby… is gone.” The tears I had held back all night now flowed freely, forming a raging river. My eyes, numb and vacant, stared blankly at him. Jeff pulled me into a tight embrace. “Clara, don’t worry. Even if you can’t have children, you are still Mom and Dad’s most favored daughter-in-law, forever a part of the Thorne family.” “I love you. You can ask me to confirm that as many times as you need.” My fingers twitched slightly. If I hadn’t known the truth, I would have, as always, believed his sweet words. But now, all I felt was waves of nausea. I quickly pulled my cold hand from his, pushing him away. Jeff paused, momentarily taken aback, then swiftly resumed his usual tender demeanor. “I’ve already contacted the children’s home. Didn’t you always want a daughter? Let’s adopt a child.” He finally, impatiently, revealed his true motive. I regretted my past blindness, never seeing through his hypocrisy. If this was his game, I would play along. On the day of my discharge, Jeff personally carried me to the car, eliciting envious glances from onlookers. At the children’s home, a little girl skipped towards us, her face innocent, and spoke sweetly to Jeff. “Uncle Jeff, are you here to take me home this time? Is my new mommy willing to accept me? Annie will be very well-behaved, she’ll make new mommy happy.” “Clara, look how adorable Annie is,” Jeff said, his voice soft. “Should we adopt her? You’ll surely love her.” The little girl bore a striking resemblance to Jeff, and a hint of Daisy as well. “Of course,” I said, a faint smile playing on my lips. Jeff seemed to sigh with relief. He crouched down, taking my hand. “I knew you’d agree. From now on, you’re Annie’s mom.” I looked into his eyes—those eyes that once captivated me—now filled with a false, saccharine devotion. I suddenly remembered the conversation I’d overheard on the operating table, and my scalp prickled. I remembered Jeff and Daisy’s conspiracy, remembered the child they had personally extinguished. I excused myself, fleeing to the restroom in a desperate attempt to compose myself. Footsteps sounded from outside; it was the children’s home staff chatting. “Mr. Thorne truly went to great lengths. To bring his biological daughter into the family legitimately, he even came up with this scheme.” “Exactly! Who would’ve thought he’d sacrifice his own flesh and blood with the madam just to protect his mistress’s child?” “To pull off this act, we coached Annie so many times. Luckily, she didn’t give anything away…” I turned on the faucet, trying to drown out the sound of my spiraling emotions with the gushing water. Stepping out, I saw Daisy already standing beside Jeff. A picture of a happy family of three. Annie, beaming, bragged, “Daddy, how was my acting just now?” “If I can just fool Auntie Clara, then Daddy can spend more time with Mommy and me, right?” Jeff smiled, a helpless tenderness in his eyes, and ruffled her nose. “Annie, you’re a clever little imp, of course.” She then called out happily to Daisy, “Mommy, do you think Annie is amazing?” Catching sight of me from the corner of his eye, Jeff immediately stood up, flustered, and began to explain. “Clara, don’t misunderstand. Daisy often visits Annie here at the children’s home, so she’s gotten used to calling her Mommy. She hasn’t changed the habit yet.” Daisy, too, put on a wronged expression. “That’s right, sister-in-law. I was just helping my brother scout out options for you. Please, don’t misunderstand. This child is truly exceptional, and she’ll surely be filial to you both.” I suddenly found it all utterly ridiculous. To have their child accept me as a “godmother” and legitimately enter the Thorne family, they had conspired to kill my own child and render me infertile. These people, who had committed such wicked, heartless deeds, were now putting on a display of grievance before me? I gently shook my head. “It’s fine. I’m not that unreasonable. Let’s go through with the adoption paperwork. I agree to this child entering our home.” 3 It was late when we returned home. Jeff went to shower, and Annie was fast asleep. I saw his phone on the bedside table, unlocked, and couldn’t resist tapping into it. Inside, there was a photo album, filled entirely with memories of Jeff with Daisy and their child. He celebrated Annie’s birthdays with her, from age one to three, never missing a single one. He took Daisy and Annie to Disneyland together, making wishes under the fireworks. The three of them posed for photos in restaurants, Jeff’s arm around Daisy, a picture of a close-knit family. … The last video showed Annie and Daisy, one on each side, kissing Jeff’s cheeks. Annie said, “Happy birthday, Daddy!” Daisy said, “Happy birthday, darling.” I remembered. On his birthday this year, I had spent a month preparing recipes and test-cooking, personally making him a lavish meal. Jeff had claimed he was working overtime at the office, promising to return later to celebrate with me. But I waited until midnight, warming the dishes again and again, and he never came home. I hadn’t realized he was celebrating his birthday with Daisy and their daughter. When Jeff emerged from the shower, I had already turned my back to him, feigning sleep. He lay down and held me close, his heavy breath warm on the nape of my neck. But what he whispered made a chill rise from the soles of my feet. He murmured, “Clara, I’m sorry. You already have the title of Mrs. Thorne. Daisy has nothing. I’ll give her and Annie half of Everest Group’s shares.” “As for the pain you’ve endured, I will do my best to compensate you for the rest of my life.” My eyelids trembled violently, and I clenched my jaw, suppressing the hatred in my heart. This man, who had been my partner day in and day out, now felt utterly alien. Six years of love and time, overturned in an instant by a monumental betrayal. Love and hatred, both, had become terrifyingly indistinct. The next morning, the doorbell rang. Jeff’s parents rushed over, with Daisy trailing behind. “We heard you’re adopting a child, so we came to see,” his mother said. Daisy pursed her lips. “Yes, as Annie’s godmother, of course I couldn’t miss out on helping to look after her.” His mother spoke, her gaze already sweeping past my shoulder, falling on Annie playing in the living room. Seeing Annie, his father’s eyes instantly welled up. “So alike, truly alike…” His mother’s smile was wide and ecstatic. “My sweet granddaughter, I finally get to see you.” Watching their affectionate interactions, I realized with a jolt that they had known about Annie all along. From beginning to end, I had been the only fool, kept completely in the dark. I turned and walked indifferently back to the kitchen. At the dining table, Jeff’s parents continuously served Annie, completely ignoring my presence. Jeff seemed to sense something and softly called my name. “Clara, why aren’t you eating?” I looked up, offering a perfect smile. “I’m not very hungry.” I looked at the table filled with happy faces and felt only profound irony. This home, which I once believed would be my sanctuary, had long been filled with lies. Passing the study, I heard his mother say disdainfully to Jeff, “Look at her. She can’t even bear a child, always playing the victim. Such a damaged woman. If it weren’t for the Lindbergh family’s reputation, I would have thrown her out long ago.” She then pulled Daisy’s hand, a fawning look on her face. “Daisy, you’re so considerate. When you have a son later, I’ll divorce this daughter-in-law and put you in her place.” Daisy smiled shyly. “Mom, I can certainly have more children. As long as I’m under the same roof as Jeff and we work hard day and night, I’m sure I can bear a son.” I laughed at myself. It turned out, in this house, I had always been an outsider. After dinner, I excused myself due to feeling unwell and went back to my room. Sitting by the window, I watched Jeff’s parents playing with Annie in the yard. The sun was bright, but its warmth couldn’t penetrate my heart. My phone vibrated. It was a message from the private investigator I had hired. “Ms. Lindbergh, I have the results of your inquiry. Jeff Thorne and Daisy Duval were indeed lovers in college and had a child together. The timelines match up perfectly…” I silently scrolled through the photos, saving the evidence of their infidelity. Even though I had already decided to leave, seeing these pictures made my heart ache intensely. I knew it was time to end everything. This beautiful dream woven from lies had to awaken. 4 Yesterday, my aunt, who lives alone in Europe, called. “Clara, if you’re ever mistreated or unhappy there, come and stay with me.” My aunt had lived alone for many years and doted on me, her niece, intending to leave her vast estate to me. Previously, for Jeff, I had always politely declined her generosity. This time, I finally accepted. But before I left, there were still some things I needed to take care of. That day, while the whole family went camping, I didn’t join them. Instead, I gathered all the anniversary gifts Jeff had given me and took them to a pawn shop. I also packed up his clothes and our wedding photos and threw them all into a waste incinerator. Watching the images of two lovers in the photos turn to ash in the flames, I smiled, a sense of release washing over me. Perhaps, the man who had held my heart for so many years had also died with that fire. The day after their camping trip, they returned, full of enjoyment. Daisy entered the house and immediately picked up a glass of water I had left on the table, drinking it down. But unexpectedly, within ten minutes, her face turned scarlet, her breathing became rapid, and she collapsed to the ground. Jeff, rushing back, was frantic. Seeing the honey water on the table, he exploded in rage. “Clara Lindbergh, are you insane?! Don’t you know Daisy is allergic to honey? A severe allergic reaction can be fatal!” Daisy lay weakly against his chest. “I just told sister-in-law two days ago that I’m allergic to honey, but… but I didn’t know sister-in-law added honey to this water…” Annie cried, clutching Jeff’s leg. “Daddy! I don’t want this bad woman as my mommy anymore! She hurt Mommy!” “Daddy, kill this bad woman! Kill her!” I watched the spectacle with cold eyes. Jeff gritted his teeth. “Clara, I’ve told you countless times, my relationship with Daisy is only familial. Why can’t you tolerate her?” I looked up and said mockingly, “Whether it’s family affection or something else, you know best.” He was stunned, his face darkening. “Clara, I’m letting this slide because your body hasn’t fully recovered, but don’t push your luck!” With that, he frantically scooped up Daisy and rushed her to the hospital. After everyone had left the house in a chaotic scramble, I looked at the discreet pinhole camera I had installed in the corner beforehand. I saved the surveillance footage of Daisy intentionally giving herself honey, framing me, onto my computer. Then, I contacted the city’s advertising billboard center and sent a file to the staff. “Please, display the content in this file on all the city’s advertising screens, playing it on a loop.” The staff member was startled, but when she heard the exorbitant payment I offered, she had no reason to refuse. “Ms. Lindbergh, are you sure?” My expression was calm. “I’m very sure. And please add a line of text: ‘Clara Lindbergh wishes Jeff Thorne and Daisy Duval, as a family of three, eternal happiness and never-ending togetherness.’” After doing all this, I avoided the housekeeper and left through the back door. I got into the car and watched the villa recede in the rearview mirror, feeling as if I was saying goodbye to my youth. Goodbye, and forever farewell, to my six years.

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1 I am Ageless, bound to Isabella Stuart by a cosmic debt—fulfill her hundred wishes to go home. Her first wish? To be her man. For three years, I stayed nameless, guiding her through womanhood, sharing intimate nights. Every wish after was just for me to smile more. Then, under sky lanterns, she made her 96th wish: “Never be apart.” Days later, she erased me from Blackwood Manor. As I stood in the snow, she told her friends: “Don’t let Alistair know I ever loved another. I’ve loved him since childhood—if he hadn’t left as a royal ward, I’d never have needed a stand-in.” Her gaze hardened. “Now the emperor’s dead, Alistair returns. I’ll marry him, no regrets.” “But Raphael?” Lady Beatrice asked, draping her shawl over me. “After three years, you’ll just cast him out?” Isabella scoffed. “The true master returns; the stand-in disappears. Take him if you pity him.” Everyone knew Beatrice only befriended Isabella for me. Once, a glance from Beatrice drew Isabella’s wrath: “Stay away from him.” Now? She didn’t care. I was just a stand-in. The other ladies fell silent. Lady Beatrice turned to me, extending a hand. “Raphael, would you come with me?” Her gaze was filled with deep affection, and beside her, Isabella couldn’t resist a sneer. “Shall we make a wager?” she challenged. “I bet Raphael Clermont is so utterly devoted to me that he wouldn’t dream of leaving.” The woman’s eyes glittered with mockery, all warmth gone. I swallowed the acidic sorrow in my throat, returning the shawl. Understanding my unspoken meaning, Lady Beatrice lowered her gaze and departed, not forgetting to murmur, “My apologies for the presumption.” As the heavy snow fell, Isabella smiled. “I knew it, you can’t leave me.” Then, her tone sharp, “But Raphael Clermont, I’m quite tired of you now. Just disappear, and stay gone.” With that, she moved to board her carriage, her heart already with the beloved returning to the capital. But I had already caught her sleeve, looking up to ask, “Just days ago, you wished for me to stay with you forever.” I tightened my grip. “Now you tell me to leave. Does this count as your ninety-seventh wish?” Hearing this, Isabella spun around, her eyes glacial. “I’m bored with this! How could I possibly play along with your hundred-wish ‘debt repayment’ game?” Finishing her words, she yanked her sleeve from my grasp, her mouth twisted with undisguised disdain. “Besides, you just said it’s the ninety-seventh. If it’s not a full hundred, won’t you still come bothering me?” She scoffed. “I don’t have time for such an absurd game.” I stubbornly seized her sleeve again, my gaze utterly earnest. “This isn’t a game.” No one knew I was an Ageless. Originally, I was meant to mature within my clan for a century before venturing into the world. But an avalanche separated me from my kin. At sixteen, still uninitiated, I blindly clawed my way out of the deep snow. Days without food left me collapsing from hunger the moment I saw the first sliver of light. In my daze, I ate the bread roll Isabella offered me. Thus, I incurred a cosmic debt to her. Elder Clermont always warned that the Ageless reach full maturity at a hundred years, and before that, they must not entangle themselves with the outside world. Otherwise, I wouldn’t find my way back to the clan. In that very instant, my connection to my kin was severed. Only by fulfilling Isabella Stuart’s hundred wishes could I find the path back to my clan. So, I asked her, “Can you make one hundred wishes? I need to repay a debt.” That day, she gazed sadly at my face and made her first wish: “I want you to be my man.” I didn’t understand, yet to resolve the debt, I sought advice from her lady-in-waiting, staying by her side without title, guiding her from innocence. After she became a true woman, she lay with me nightly, showering me with countless affections. And for the next three years, every one of her wishes was for me to smile at her. Everyone said: she was madly in love with me. Later, she had a city filled with fireworks, wishing for us never to be apart. I agreed, but I knew that wish wasn’t truly from her heart. I didn’t understand human love, but I knew she had never loved me. 2 And so it was. Just a few days later, she erased every trace of my presence from Blackwood Manor, determined to cast me out. Now, meeting her gaze, my voice was steady. “If you agree, then this will be the ninety-seventh wish.” My grip tightened. “Grant me three more, and I will vanish from your sight forever.” Isabella’s eyes flickered with impatience, as if my stubbornness surprised her. “Then I grant you this ninety-seventh wish. Can you release me now?” she pressed. “Alistair is waiting for me.” Her two sentences, spoken with such different warmth. Her friends beside her sighed in sympathy, believing I would break down in tears. They had witnessed my unwavering devotion to Isabella, assuming I was utterly lost to her love. But I simply released her sleeve, not forgetting to smooth the wrinkled fabric. “I accept this wish,” I told her. “Go to your beloved. I’ll wait here at the manor gates for you to return and grant the last three wishes.” Seeing my uplifted smile and foolish words, they shook their heads in resignation. But Isabella seemed truly rushed; she boarded her carriage and didn’t spare a single glance back. As the carriage rolled away, a metallic tang of blood bloomed in my mouth. Just three days prior, Isabella had wished for us to be eternally together. Now, she wished for me to be gone forever. The conflicting wishes tore at me, and a searing pain erupted in my chest, a brutal backlash. Isabella, born to privilege, rarely made a wish lightly. I had stayed by her side for three years, yet I still needed four more wishes fulfilled. To complete another one now should have brought me joy. But when I curved my lips again, the smile felt bitter. The guards at the gate, seeing my daze, approached with caution. “Master Raphael, you’ve been away for three years. Your family must miss you dearly. Please, go home.” He paused. “You two belong to different worlds.” He wanted me to give up, to stop waiting. Down the street, a woman held a child’s hand, her face alight with laughter. Snowflakes settled on my lashes, and I shook my head, my voice choked with a raw ache. “I can’t leave.” I reiterated. “I have to wait for Isabella.” If I didn’t complete the last three wishes, I couldn’t find my way home. Unable to sway me, the guard returned to his post, resuming his watch over the manor. I huddled in the corner, clutching my thin garments, when Lady Beatrice returned. She attempted once more to drape her luxurious shawl over me, but I gently refused. Her attendant muttered something about my ingratitude. Lady Beatrice’s expression was earnest. “Master Raphael, Isabella is not worthy. You can trust me.” She gestured. “My mother, the Duchess, has commanded me to journey to the Emerald Coast. I will leave this shawl with you; wrap it around yourself if you get cold.” She reached into her purse. “Should you need any assistance, take this shawl to Montague Hall. I’ve made all the necessary arrangements.” With that, she turned and left. I remained in my crouched position, never once touching the thick, warm shawl. I was freezing, but I longed to go home. I couldn’t bear to owe anyone anything more. After she left, I stood vigil at the manor gates until nightfall. Many of the windows in the grand houses had already dimmed their lights. But Isabella still did not return. The page who had accompanied her rushed back to retrieve a purse of coins, not forgetting to mock me. “Some people ought to know their place.” He sneered. “Our mistress will be staying with Prince Alistair at an inn for the next few days; she won’t be returning at all.” He paused, his nose tilted arrogantly. “Oh, and the mistress wanted me to take this money to buy Prince Alistair a city full of fireworks and sky lanterns.” He added, “And river lanterns, too, by the way.” He chuckled. “See clearly now who holds more importance.” With that, he turned to leave. I looked up, and indeed, fireworks burst across the sky, countless sky lanterns rising gracefully among them. I stood, my head momentarily light, recalling Isabella’s magnified smile: ‘Raphael, I’ve arranged for a city full of fireworks for you; come quickly and see!’ I had followed her then. But snapping back to the present, I saw only Isabella on the bridge, leaning against a man, releasing river lanterns into the water. Her gaze was soft and entwined, holding nothing but tenderness, as if no one else existed. Perhaps my stare was too intense, for Isabella looked over. Our eyes met, and the warmth in hers vanished. After a whispered word to the man beside her, she stepped towards me. When her wrist was seized in a crushing grip, her eyes were cold as ice. “Didn’t I tell you to disappear and stay gone? Who gave you permission to be here?” A sharp pain flared as she shoved me away. She feared Alistair might see me and wanted to issue another warning, but someone else had already slipped an arm through hers, eyes brimming with tears. “Isabella, you don’t have to treat Master Raphael like this. When I arrived in the capital, I made inquiries.” Alistair’s voice was filled with a performative sorrow. “I’m told you kept Raphael by your side for three years because he bore a striking resemblance to me, using him as a mere substitute.” He sighed. “And I know you put off marriage for three years since your coming of age, never looking at another man.” His eyes were full of pity and reluctance. “I don’t blame you for finding a stand-in, but Master Raphael is truly blameless.” He paused, then continued, “I know Master Raphael is proud and unwilling to accept help from others; he hasn’t accepted a single coin from you in three years.” 3 “Isabella and I forgot to write our wishes on the river lanterns we just released. Master Raphael, you’re an excellent swimmer; perhaps you could retrieve them for us? We’d offer ten silver pieces as compensation, enough for a warm cloak, how does that sound?” His eyes were full of an innocent plea, as if he genuinely wished to help me. Yet, to offer aid to a rival, and still feign such poignant distress that his eyes welled up. Isabella immediately wiped away his tears, sighing with a helpless, doting air. “Alistair is so kind-hearted.” But if he were truly kind-hearted, why would he ask me to plunge into the lake when my face was pale with cold? It was the heart of winter, and the lake water was icy. I didn’t want to. But as I turned to leave, Isabella clutched my hand, her voice chilling. “Didn’t you say you wished to repay a debt?” She tightened her grip. “Then my ninety-eighth wish is for you to accept Alistair’s request and retrieve those river lanterns.” Leaning closer, she whispered, her voice laced with warning, “If you don’t go down, you’ll never complete the remaining three wishes.” She was convinced my ‘debt repayment’ was merely a ploy to cling to her, and she wielded that belief with chilling certainty. She didn’t want Alistair to suffer, yet I still remembered the day a year ago when I’d wanted to make her happy, diving into the scorching summer lake to pick lotus pods, only for her to scold me: “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Hearing the word ‘wish,’ Alistair’s eyes subtly shifted. “So Master Raphael really is doing this out of a sense of obligation?” he mused. “I heard Isabella’s many wishes were simply for Master Raphael to smile. Isabella truly holds such deep affection for Master Raphael.” He joked, yet tears still welled in his eyes. Isabella quickly released my hand, cooing softly with a mix of helplessness and indulgence. “If he didn’t smile so much like you, I wouldn’t have made such wishes.” She cast a doting glance at Alistair. “Alistair, you know, in my heart, there has only ever been you.” Her words caused Alistair’s face to flush. I stood my ground, showing little reaction. I had known for a long time that Isabella was seeing someone else through me. But the sudden shift in three years of unwavering favor left me feeling a subtle discomfort. The next instant, without hesitation, I plunged into the lake, enduring the bone-chilling cold to retrieve the river lanterns. Now, only two wishes remained. Once ashore, I took the coin purse from Alistair’s belt and counted out ten silver pieces. “Your ninety-eighth wish is fulfilled,” I stated. With that, I spared them no further glance, heading directly to a healer for medicine. The bitter liquid burned my throat, and I lay in the inn, drifting in and out of a feverish haze for a full day. I had planned to seek out Isabella as soon as I felt better to complete the last two wishes, but it was Blackwood Manor’s servants who found me first. “The mistress says her ninety-ninth wish is for you to perform a dance at the Scarlet Rose Salon.” Prince Alistair, entangled with Isabella, had taken her to the salon for a night of revelry. By ill luck, he had offended an eccentric master of the shadowy guilds. Royal authority didn’t hold as much sway as these hidden powers, and for the master to forget the slight, Alistair himself would have to don the attire of a male entertainer and perform a dance. Isabella couldn’t risk exposing Alistair’s true identity, nor could she bear to see him humiliated. “So, she wishes for me to take his place, is that it?” For a man to be forced into such a humiliating dance—what degradation! A wave of desolation washed over me, and even the page, knowing how dishonorable this was, looked somewhat ashamed. Yet, I agreed. Once this wish was done, I would only need one more, and then I could go home… Inside the Scarlet Rose Salon, I changed into the required attire. Ignoring the lewd whispers and taunts from the crowd, I performed the dance. When I stepped off the stage, Isabella showed a rare flicker of remorse. “I won’t cast you out again after this,” she said. “Since you love me so much, I’ll arrange a place for you to stay, you can be my personal guard.” She offered a shallow smile. “I promised Alistair that he alone would be my husband for life.” Her words dripped with condescension, as if she were making a grand concession. But I merely pushed her away, my voice flat. “No, thank you.” It was the first time I had ever refused her. Isabella’s face darkened. “Think carefully. If you refuse, I won’t give you another chance.” She clearly expected me to regret it, but my steps didn’t falter. All I ever wanted was to go home. … Isabella’s ninety-seventh wish was for me to stay far away, yet these past few days, in order to complete the remaining wishes, I had been close to her. Now, the backlash struck again, with renewed vengeance. I curled up in the inn, drinking the bitter medicine, not forgetting to send her a daily letter: One wish remains. But Isabella seemed oblivious, her entire focus on securing a new identity for Alistair and setting the stage for their marriage. Days passed, and I finally couldn’t bear it any longer, wanting to ask her directly, but Isabella consistently evaded me. I knew she was subtly forcing me to agree to become her personal guard. And so, a stalemate had settled between us. Until half a month later, when a delegation from the neighboring kingdom arrived in the capital, and she sought me out herself. “Alistair’s faked death has been exposed, and the Emperor is furious.” Her voice was low. “Now the foreign envoys have come to demand Alistair’s return.” She met my eyes. “And my final wish is for you to take Prince Alistair’s punishment in his stead, and then depart with the envoys.” 4 A long silence stretched after her words, but I made no move. Observing my indifferent gaze, a knot tightened in Isabella’s chest. A flicker of reluctant compassion crossed her brow. But the delicate hand, trembling slightly, that slipped into her arm, seemed to solidify her resolve, chasing away the flicker of compassion. “Isabella, I know this is unfair to you,” Alistair murmured, his voice soft and laced with feigned sorrow. “But I have suffered so much already. If you truly love me, you’ll extend that love to all I hold dear.” He met my gaze, feigning innocence, as if truly desperate for my aid. “You resemble Prince Alistair. They won’t suspect a thing. Just cooperate with the punishment. Once you’re outside the city, I’ll arrange for your rescue.” As if afraid I wouldn’t agree, Alistair immediately sank to his knees, eyes brimming with tears, grabbing my hand. “Master Raphael, I beg of you, please?” he pleaded. “I am a prince, yet I was held captive, humiliated, against my will. I want to live the rest of my life for myself.” His voice dropped to a confiding whisper. “I don’t wish for Isabella to have any man besides me, but your sincerity pains me.” He looked up, his tears seeming genuine. “Once this is over, I swear I will stand by you, sharing Isabella’s affections.” He spoke of concession, yet his eyes held a chilling undercurrent of malice and calculation. My wrist throbbed with a sharp ache. I raised my hand and flung his away. Meeting Isabella’s reproachful gaze, I offered a faint, bitter smile. “This wish, I accept.” With that, I turned and strode out of the inn. Before I could even ask how to enter the palace, a carriage, already waiting, came into view. I glanced back. Isabella stood shielding Alistair, her voice flat as she called out, “Prince Alistair.” Meeting Alistair’s triumphant gaze, I understood: Isabella, for his sake, had never truly allowed me to refuse. But it didn’t matter. This was the final wish. After this, our obligation would be severed, our ties broken forever. And I, too, would soon be home. Our eyes met, hers swirling with a storm of emotions. But I simply withdrew my gaze, lifted my foot, and boarded the carriage. With each beat of the horses’ hooves, the distance between us stretched further and further. … In the grand hall, I knelt below the dais, listening quietly to the envoys from Eldoria condemning Prince Alistair. My expression was utterly placid. The Emperor, his eyes blazing with fury, snatched a scroll from his side and hurled it at me. A sharp pain exploded across my forehead, but I made no sound. The Emperor raised a hand and ordered, “Take Prince Alistair to the Black Citadel Dungeons. Twenty lashes with the cat o’ nine tails each day, for three days, followed by a public parade of humiliation.” He paused, then addressed the envoys. “Will this suffice, honored guests?” His words seemed to appease their anger. Yet, Prince Alistair, before his departure, had been the Emperor’s most favored son. Had it not been for a devastating defeat, he would never have been sent as a royal ward. Even after three years, it was impossible not to recognize him. The Emperor knew everything, yet pretended ignorance, leaving no room for doubt or leniency. But I did not speak. He had every right to protect his son. It was just a transaction. What was there to be angry about? I allowed the guards to lead me away, never glancing back at the fleeting flicker of guilt in the Emperor’s eyes. That very night, the twenty lashes fell upon me. The Ageless, though immune to death and decay, felt pain with an intensity several times greater than mortals. The bone-deep agony blurred my vision. For three consecutive days, the gaoler Isabella had bribed would secretly bring me a pot of healing balm. He said: Isabella was afraid I was hurting, and specially sent it. Isabella’s devotion was truly boundless, beyond compare. I didn’t argue, nor did I touch the balm. Isabella’s devotion was indeed profound, but the object of that devotion was not me. As the winter sun began its slow ascent, I was confined to an iron cage, paraded through the streets amidst whispers and pointing fingers. Rotten vegetables splattered against my open wounds, and the pain forced my eyes open. Ahead, Alistair stood, a look of wicked glee on his face. Beside him, Isabella watched me, her lips trembling imperceptibly. She mouthed: wait for me. But the debt was repaid. Why should I wait for her? As the prisoner’s cart rolled past the city gates, the cosmic debt dissolved completely. Ten miles outside the city, Isabella, with her retinue, came to intercept the prisoner’s cart.

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My in-laws insisted we spend the New Year holidays at their ancestral home. Unable to secure flights, we decided to drive. But then, my wife Chloe’s childhood crush, Ethan Hayes, heard about our plans and declared he simply had to come along. He even audaciously claimed the passenger seat next to me, a smug smirk plastered on his face. “Leo, old man,” he drawled, “I get terrible motion sickness. The front seat is my only option.” Chloe shot me a look of pure contempt. “It’s just one seat, Leo. Why are you being so petty?” She scoffed. “If you could even drive, would this be such a hassle?” My in-laws chimed in, their voices dripping with disapproval. “You’re a grown man. Why are you so narrow-minded?” Outnumbered and out-argued, I found myself squeezed uncomfortably in the back seat with them. Who would have thought that as we passed through a toll plaza, Ethan would spot a stray dog and, in a sudden burst of performative generosity, exclaim: “Oh, that dog looks so pathetic! We simply must take it with us!” I immediately objected. “Our car is full. Adding a dog would make us over capacity, and we won’t be allowed on the road.” No sooner had the words left my lips than Chloe rounded on me, her eyes blazing. “Leo, if that’s the case, then you can give up your seat for the stray! Just take a cab home!” 1 As we drove through the toll plaza, Ethan, who’d insisted on squeezing in with us for the drive to the ancestral home, spotted a stray dog and demanded we take it with us. My protests were utterly ignored by Ethan. He simply turned his pleading gaze to Chloe. “Chloe, look how pitiful this little dog is. If we just leave it here, it’ll surely freeze to death.” His voice softened, taking on a theatrical tremor. “It’s so tiny, it hasn’t even seen the world yet. It shouldn’t die here like this.” With that, he scooped the dog into his arms. Chloe, her heart swelling with an apparent tenderness, pulled my coat from the back seat and wrapped it around the dog, murmuring to it as if no one else were present: “Don’t worry, little one. I won’t abandon you.” Then, turning to Ethan, she gently instructed, “Don’t get your own clothes dirty. Use this coat to keep it warm.” She then turned her displeasure on me, her eyes snapping. “Leo, how can you be so utterly devoid of compassion?” Her voice rose. “While in your eyes it might just be a stray, it’s still a living, breathing creature. How can you be so utterly indifferent, so cold-blooded?” I stared blankly at the two overflowing with self-righteous sentiment. I hadn’t once suggested abandoning the dog, yet they had painted me as some kind of unfeeling monster. And one of them was my wife, with whom I had shared a bed for years. Despite my rising anger, I patiently tried to explain. “If you truly want to save this dog, we could leave some food for it.” I offered a practical solution. “Or we could speak to the convenience store clerk here, leave some money, and ask them to care for it.” I gestured to the crammed interior of the car. “Our car is already full. Taking it along would put us over capacity, and we’d certainly be stopped by the traffic police.” I thought my explanation was clear enough. But no sooner had the words left my lips than Ethan scoffed. “Leo, I know you’re rolling in money, but how can you just leave this poor stray with some random store clerk? How can you be sure they’ll properly care for it?” He cradled the dog closer. “What if they take the money and do nothing? What about Shadow?” In less than five minutes, Ethan had already named the stray dog. “How is a little dog like this supposed to survive the bitter cold of winter?” He widened his eyes, his voice laced with manufactured indignation. “In the eyes of you rich folks, is a dog’s life really so worthless? Is it not a life at all?” He paused dramatically. “How can you be so heartless as to leave it here, all alone? Can’t you see it’s trembling with cold?” I found Ethan’s moral grandstanding quite amusing. “I think you make a good point,” I said, a slow, chilling smile touching my lips. My tone shifted. “So, how about you give up your seat for this little black dog, Shadow?” I watched his face. “After all, you’re the extra one in this car.” 2 Hearing my words, Ethan, who had just been so righteously indignant, froze. “You wouldn’t ask Chloe’s parents to get out of the car for your little dog, would you?” I pressed on. “They’re older, after all.” I paused, letting the implication hang in the air. “Since you’re so concerned for this little dog, how about I take it with me, and you stay behind?” Now it was Ethan’s turn to panic. He nervously glanced at Chloe. Chloe’s brow furrowed, and she shot me an irritated glare. “Leo, that’s going too far.” Her voice was sharp. “Ethan is a guest I invited to come home with us. How can you just abandon him in a place like this? Is that how you treat a guest?” I used to think Chloe was incapable of caring for others. Now I realized she just wasn’t capable of caring for me. When it came to Ethan, she was meticulous, terrified of causing her beloved first love even the slightest inconvenience. I crossed my arms, watching Chloe with a calm, expectant air. “So, what exactly do you propose?” Without a moment’s hesitation, she gently lifted little Shadow into the car. Then, she turned to me, her gaze cold and dismissive. “Leo, you’ll just have to make a small sacrifice. Give your seat to this little dog.” She paused. “You can take a taxi. That way, you won’t be crammed in the back with my parents, and you’ll be more comfortable.” Just then, a cry of surprise came from the back seat, from Chloe’s parents. “Oh, where did this stray dog come from? It’s already cramped enough back here; there’s no room!” Chloe patiently reassured them. “Don’t worry, Mom and Dad. Leo won’t be riding with us, so it won’t be crowded.” With that single sentence, she directly stripped me of my rightful place, and not a single one of my supposed family members objected. “You want me to give up my seat for a stray dog?” I pointed to myself, disbelief hardening my voice, staring at Chloe. She looked at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Mom and Dad are old. Do you want to leave them stranded at this toll booth? Do you have no sense of responsibility as a son-in-law?” Her voice rose. “As for Ethan, he’s my guest. Have you ever seen a host abandon their guest and leave them alone?” She scoffed. “If anything happens to him, what’s the difference between you and a murderer?” Her face softened, almost condescendingly. “I’m doing this for your own good. Can you stop throwing your tantrums?” She then began to complain. “If you could drive, would this even be an issue?” Her voice rose again, tinged with self-pity. “I’m already exhausted from driving such a long distance, Leo. Can’t you show me a little consideration?” I stared at Chloe in stunned silence. It was true, I didn’t drive. My family had always provided a driver for me since I was a child. Later, my parents died in a car accident, and driving became a profound phobia for me. Chloe wasn’t unaware of the reason; she used to comfort me. “I’ll be your driver from now on, Leo. You just need to sit comfortably in the passenger seat.” Now, she not only gave my passenger seat to Ethan, but my inability to drive had become another excuse for her complaints. My heart felt as if it had been doused with ice water, turning instantly frigid. She worried about her parents’ age, worried about Ethan’s delicate constitution. Even a random stray dog received Chloe’s sympathetic attention. Only for me, was there not a shred of compassion. Yet, she felt perfectly justified in leaving me alone at this desolate toll booth, nowhere near a town. I looked at Chloe, my voice flat. “So, what about me?” Chloe didn’t hesitate for a moment. “You’re a grown man. Don’t you know how to find your way home?” She offered a dismissive wave of her hand. “Even if you are a pampered young master who expects everything handed to him, you can still call a taxi, can’t you?” With that, she calmly ushered Ethan into the passenger seat, closing the door for him with tender care. “It’s cold outside. Just stay warm in the car.” Ethan shot me a triumphant smirk. “Thanks, Leo, old man!” he called out, his voice dripping with false gratitude. “Saving a dog’s life is like building a seven-story pagoda. Little Shadow will be eternally grateful to you.” 3 He spoke of gratitude, but his eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction. They sat comfortably in the heated car, while I stood alone outside, enduring the biting wind. A stark contrast indeed. “Chloe Miller,” I called out, my voice laced with venom, “do you even remember who your husband is?!” That single sentence successfully wiped the smile from Chloe’s face. “Even if you are my husband, you can’t be so unreasonable!” she snapped. “I’m not asking you to walk home. It’s just a cab ride, isn’t it? Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” She scowled. “Leo Sterling, when are you going to learn to be more generous?!” With that, she slammed the car door shut, starting the engine. “Instead of bickering with me, you should hurry up and call a taxi,” she yelled through the closed window. “Don’t delay everyone’s New Year’s Eve dinner!” Hearing ‘New Year’s Eve dinner,’ Chloe’s parents didn’t forget to call out their own demands. “Leo, remember to pick up some fresh vegetables when you get back!” her mother chirped. “The eggs at the old house might be expired, don’t forget to buy some new ones.” Her father added, “Oh, and your father-in-law hasn’t been feeling well lately; he can’t eat anything too greasy. Try to make the New Year’s Eve dinner light and healthy!” They seemed to have completely forgotten that I had been kicked out of the car and, at this point, had no idea how I was even supposed to get back. They still shamelessly treated me like a personal servant, barking orders. Even Ethan, watching the drama unfold, casually chimed in, “Leo, you’re impressive! You actually cook?” Chloe nodded in agreement, a faint smirk playing on her lips. Ethan eyed me with a teasing look. “Then I’ll put in a request for braised lion’s head meatballs. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?” With that, he casually rolled up the window. Chloe didn’t spare me another glance, hitting the gas and driving off. The car had barely driven off when Chloe’s call came through. But it wasn’t remorse, nor was it concern for my safety. It was just another assignment. “What are you doing? Why haven’t you hailed a cab yet?” Her voice was laced with impatience. “And listen, Ethan gets car sick, so I can’t drive fast. So, when you get a cab, tell the driver to speed up. Get back first and prepare the New Year’s Eve dinner we just ordered. We’re all tired from the long drive. Hurry up and do what you’re supposed to!” I used to be a pampered young master who didn’t know the first thing about cooking. I only learned to cook after I started dating Chloe. We always had household staff. But Chloe and her parents insisted on eating my cooking, claiming that only my personal efforts could prove my love. I had complained, of course, but Chloe always shut me down. “Mom and Dad have worked hard their whole lives; they just want to enjoy their son-in-law’s blessings. Just indulge them a little.” With one casual remark about ‘outsourcing filial piety,’ she successfully trapped me in a cage of servitude, catering to their every whim for three years. Every year, the New Year’s Eve dinner naturally fell to me. I couldn’t even get Chloe to help with the smallest task. Because my mother-in-law would say, “A man cooking is a sign of love for his woman,” and literally dragged Chloe out of the kitchen. In the eyes of my in-laws, and even Chloe herself, I wasn’t a husband, nor a son-in-law. I was merely their personal servant, handling their every need. Listening to her demands, the last shred of lingering affection I held for Chloe was personally shredded by her. In that moment, a sudden clarity washed over me. Since there was no love left, why would I keep this ungrateful woman for the New Year, inviting bad luck for the year to come? I immediately sent a message to my lawyer, instructing him to prepare all the necessary divorce papers. I looked in the direction they had left, and a chilling smile touched my lips. Then, I dialed 911. “I want to report a crime. My wife intentionally abandoned me on the highway.”

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My parents, rooted in their outdated traditions, cut off Liam’s medical funding again for the sake of their adopted son. At that moment, my heart finally died. The bullet comments were filled with sighs: 【Oh, Eric, your parents said they don’t really favor their adopted son. They just found him to temper you both, afraid they’d spoil you otherwise.】 【Last time, they made you sell blood for tuition. The time before that, they let thugs steal your meal money… Now it’s the 99th trial. They said if you two can just endure this one, they’ll finally be able to love you freely.】 Endure this one? But Liam was already dead. When I saw my parents illegally barge into my cramped rental apartment, I wasn’t surprised in the least. After all, ten minutes after I posted my desperate plea online, they used their immense financial clout to have my post deleted and my account banned. They had the money to silence me, but not a single penny to save my brother’s life. I clenched my fists, listening to my father’s voice, cold as a demon’s, as he announced: “Eric, your allowance for the entire year is gone.” Then, he launched into a furious tirade of accusations. “You and Liam are getting increasingly out of line! Resorting to faking medical bills and spreading rumors online just to get money!” He snarled. “Do you have any idea how much it cost me to take down your post?” He grew more agitated with each word, his eyes blazing as he surveyed the small apartment. “And where’s Liam? Get out here, you brat! Today, as your father, I’m going to teach you two a proper lesson!” His gaze fixed on me. “You first. Get on your knees!” My mother stepped forward, feigning protection. “Let’s talk this through calmly, no need for threats of violence.” Then, her voice hardening, “Eric, where’s your brother? Don’t just stand there, tell him to come out and apologize to your father with you.” She shook her head. “This time, your little prank went too far. If you remain so stubborn, even I can’t help you.” Help? When had she ever helped us? Every single time, she’d coldly stood by as a spectator, only to play the peacemaker once the dust settled. If their “trial” succeeded, she’d boast about her effective parenting. If it failed, she’d lightly push all the blame onto Liam and me. Even the comments, having witnessed this recurring drama so many times, couldn’t help but pity me. 【Ugh, Eric’s parents have really crossed the line this time. Eric was clearly posting for help, hoping some kind soul would assist him with Liam’s funeral arrangements. But in less than ten minutes, his parents had the post taken down.】 【My heart aches for Eric. This is just the fate of a supporting character, isn’t it?】 A bitter, hollow laugh escaped me. From the moment Adrian Sterling entered our lives, I gained the ability to see these bullet comments. I knew then that Liam and I were mere stepping stones for Adrian, the protagonist. We were destined to fail. Yet, I refused to give up. I tried to fight back, but each attempt ended in failure. Every time Adrian falsely accused us, I would try desperately to explain, to prove our innocence to my parents. But in their eyes, it was merely ‘cunning sophistry.’ Later, I learned from the comments that my parents intended to use Adrian to temper us, which was why they silently condoned his actions. Finally, I gave up, accepting this absurd trial. I even repeatedly urged my younger brother to dutifully endure our parents’ tests. I thought the trials would end quickly. But it had been seven years, and the tests came one after another, endlessly, with no end in sight. And my brother, my only companion, died in the hospital because of their 99th trial. Even now, he lay in the cold mortuary, because I had no money for his funeral. And my father? He had simply cut off my monthly allowance of $500. I took a deep breath, waiting for them to finish speaking. Then, I slowly began. “You can cut off my allowance.” My voice trembled slightly. “But please, just lend me $2,000. Please?” I swallowed hard. “Liam… he’s still waiting to be buried…” My father exploded in a fit of rage. He unbuckled his belt and lashed it across my back. “Well, well! Still lying to us even now! What kind of elder brother are you, wishing death upon your own brother?” A sharp, searing pain pulsed through me, but I persisted. “I’m not lying. Liam was in a car accident.” I choked back a sob. “When I called you, you refused to pay for Liam’s medical expenses.” My voice cracked. “He bled out and died! But for cremation and burial, the cheapest option is still $2,000…” Tears welled in my eyes. “I don’t have any money… that’s why I posted online for help… You can beat me as much as you want, but can you please just lend me $2,000 so Liam can be buried…?” My voice was barely a whisper, trembling uncontrollably. They had money. So much money. Yet my brother had died because we had none. It was absurd. My mother, hearing my words, froze. “Eric, what do you mean? Liam… he really…” My father furiously slapped my mother’s hand away, then struck me again with his belt. “You believe his lies?” He scoffed. “Those two brothers have been lying their entire lives! Faking illnesses as children, and now they’re even faking death!” His eyes burned with conviction. “Adrian was right. They’ve just been after our money from the start!” He glowered at me, his voice a menacing growl. “If only you two were as sensible as Adrian, your mother and I wouldn’t have to be so strict with you!” My heart shattered, and I finally broke. “Really? Wouldn’t you? Or is Adrian just a tool you found to torment Liam and me?” I screamed, my voice raw. “You knew all along that Adrian was framing and bullying Liam and me, but you turned a blind eye!” Tears streamed down my face. “Weren’t we ‘sensible’ enough? We earned our own tuition. When we ran out of money, we found part-time jobs. We got top grades in every subject and won scholarships every year! But what did you do? You heartlessly sent thugs to beat Liam and me black and blue, stealing all the money we’d worked so hard to earn for food!” My voice cracked with desperate anguish. “I only asked you for $2,000 to bury Liam. Is that too much to ask? He’s my own brother, and your son!” I sobbed. “Why won’t you just believe us, just this once?!” Both of them froze, a flicker of awkwardness crossing their faces. They clearly hadn’t expected me to know about their “trials.” My mother, flustered, nervously reached for my hand. “Eric, when did you find out…? Did Liam know too? Is that why you kept making up excuses to ask us for money?” So, this was the conclusion they reached after hearing my hysterical accusations? I laughed bitterly, a self-deprecating sound. “If you still don’t believe me, then use that $2,000 to sever our ties.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “From now on, I am no longer a son of the Sterling family. You won’t have to worry about me shaming the Sterling name. Is that satisfactory?” Two thousand dollars. I wondered if, after Liam’s cremation, it would be enough to cremate me too. With Liam gone, I had no reason to live. I didn’t expect to get their response before I heard a deep male voice sharply rebuke me. “Brother, aren’t you being incredibly hurtful to Mom and Dad?” I looked at Adrian Sterling, who stood impassively in the doorway. He was dressed in a custom-tailored suit, a million-dollar watch gleaming on his wrist. I glanced down at myself: a t-shirt my neighbor had thrown away, and shoes I’d salvaged from the village trash dump. These were my parents. Millions spent enriching an adopted son, yet they wouldn’t spare $2,000 for their own flesh and blood. The comments, too, were crying foul on my behalf. Adrian’s face was filled with feigned sincerity. “Brother,” he began, “I just saw you and Liam buying fake medical records at the hospital this morning. How can you now claim Liam is dead?” He sighed, a performance of profound disappointment. “Since you want to sever ties, Mom and Dad, just agree. After all… consider it another trial.” A self-deprecating laugh escaped me. How could Adrian lie so naturally about things that never happened? I felt utterly helpless, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying to explain again. “If you’re so capable, why don’t you go to the hospital yourselves and check if there’s a deceased person named Liam Sterling? The truth would be clear!” My voice cracked. “Then, it would be obvious who’s lying—Adrian or me, wouldn’t it?” But my mother’s trust in Adrian was absolute. “Adrian isn’t like you; would he lie to us? Liam is your own brother; how can you keep saying he’s dead? Are you cursing him, or us?” Her face hardened. “Now, you call Liam out here immediately to apologize, or else he’ll never see another penny of allowance!” I looked at the comments floating in the air. Without exception, they were furious on my behalf, comforting me, trying to brainstorm solutions. But I was utterly numb. Because I had long since given up expecting them to understand me. I had explained countless times, yet they still refused to believe. Liam had been in a car accident, and we needed to pay for his medical expenses. I called my parents, begging them to cover the bills. The most ridiculous part was that my parents used this as another “trial,” adamantly refusing to pay. Liam struggled for three days on a gurney in the hospital corridor, until he finally gave up and died from massive blood loss. I thought, everyone is free now. Once I sent Liam off, I would join him. But I never imagined I couldn’t even afford the funeral. As despair deepened, my father scoffed. “Since you already know about the ‘trials,’ then perfect. I’ll give you one last chance. If you pass this trial, I won’t just give you $2,000.” He paused, a cruel glint in his eye. “From now on, I’ll grant you whatever you wish for.” Adrian’s face changed dramatically. He clearly hadn’t expected my father to propose yet another trial for me. To be honest, neither had I. I looked up and saw the comments all urging me. 【Eric, you should agree. After all, they’re your and Liam’s birth parents; they probably won’t make it too hard for you.】 【Yeah, Liam’s body is still at the hospital. His funeral can’t wait. You’re still young; how long would it take you to save up enough money for Liam’s arrangements by working odd jobs? Liam can’t wait that long.】 Yes, Liam couldn’t wait. I had tried every method imaginable. Borrowing money, loans, finding jobs… I had exhausted every option. Each time I saw a flicker of hope, my parents would send someone to sabotage it. I was at my wit’s end, which was why I finally resorted to exposing my identity as the Sterling family’s eldest son online, hoping to stir public opinion and find a way out. But in the end? I was still cornered, step by step, by my own biological parents, forced to pass their “trials” just to arrange my brother’s funeral. It was utterly ironic. After a long silence, I finally spoke. “Alright, I agree.” For my brother, I had no choice but to agree. Adrian’s face was livid, his eyes fixed on me with intense resentment. I ignored him, silently extending my hand. “But I beg you, can you please transfer me the $2,000 first?” My voice was barely audible. “My brother’s burial truly can’t wait any longer.” Adrian burst out laughing. “Brother, aren’t you being too greedy?” He smirked. “Still lying about Liam being dead?” He paused, feigning a thoughtful look. “Speaking of which… Mom, Dad, I did accidentally see Brother buying something from a shady character recently. That $2,000… he wouldn’t be trying to…” He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air. My parents’ faces instantly contorted with rage. My mother, furious, slapped me across the face. “Eric! How old are you, and you’re already stooping so low?! You actually dared to take those things?!” My father’s face was grim. “Since you’re so desperate for $2,000, fine. This last trial.” His eyes narrowed. “Earn $2,000 within one week.” He paused. “If you complete it, I’ll send you to rehab and make sure you kick this habit!” Adrian couldn’t hold back his laughter. I felt as if I’d plunged into an ice hole, my chest heaving rapidly. A ball of fury churned inside me, with nowhere to go. They left without hesitation. Adrian remained, surveying the rental apartment. “Honestly, I was quite worried just now, thought you almost won this one. Good thing Mom and Dad still don’t believe you.” He shook his head. “I think your last trial will be very difficult to pass. Why don’t you get on your knees and beg me? I could help you, you know.” He smirked. “It’s just $2,000. I could introduce you to a few wealthy women. If you take care of them, forget $2,000, you could get $200,000!” His eyes gleamed with malice. “After all, Mom and Dad already think you’ve fallen so low, don’t they?” The comments were furious, cursing Adrian, the protagonist, and urging me to quickly explain everything to my parents. But what was the point of explaining? They were always like this, pretending to care deeply for Liam and me, but never actually doing anything concrete. Just like before, when they endlessly called, pressuring me to pay tuition, insisting I had to go to school, or they wouldn’t acknowledge me as their son. But when I asked to borrow the tuition from them, they would say: “Eric, your education is your own responsibility. You have to figure out the tuition yourself. And your brother’s tuition too.” They’d added, “There are plenty of opportunities in this society. As long as you’re willing to work hard, you can easily earn your tuition, instead of expecting everything handed to you.” But when they said this, I was still a minor, and employing child labor was illegal. I could only go to remote places, pretend I was an adult, and earn tuition by selling my blood. If they truly cared about Liam and me as much as they claimed, they would have investigated the moment they heard about Liam’s death. But how could they, after I’d told them countless times, still insist I was lying? Adrian mocked me some more, then left. I collapsed weakly to the floor, lost in a daze. But I needed $2,000, not to pass a trial. I needed it to bury Liam. After a long hesitation, I finally made up my mind and headed to a bar. It’s just putting on a smile, isn’t it? As long as I could get Liam buried quickly, I would do anything. But that sketchy place was far beyond my capabilities as a novice. For an entire night, I gritted my teeth, enduring the discomfort, accepting one drink after another from strangers. I begged and pleaded, managing to convince only two gold-toothed bosses to open a bottle of expensive champagne. I endured, day after day.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392822”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel