Author: Momo Chan

1 Just because Dr. Chloe Flynn, his intern and junior colleague, wanted to perform the surgery, Dr. Liam Thorne allowed her to practice on our son’s circumcision. “My junior colleague possesses extraordinary talent. You should count yourself lucky she’s willing to operate.” This was about our son’s future, his very essence. I wanted an experienced surgeon, but Liam exploded, pointing a furious finger at my face. “Don’t you dare look down on her. What if she’s just an intern? Even the chief started out as an intern.” I clung to the operating room doors, pleading desperately. “Let’s not do this. Can I just take our son home?” He kicked me aside, shoving our son inside. “The child you raised is just like you, utterly pathetic.” “Get out! Don’t embarrass me here. Patient trust is ruined by people like you.” It was days later, after he had attended a seminar with his junior colleague, when he finally reviewed the surgical recording. He saw our son’s very manhood severed… The operating room doors finally swung open. Our son was wheeled out, his face deathly pale, like a discarded rag. His pants were soaked with blood, and he was completely unconscious. Panic seized me. They said it was just a minor procedure. Why was he bleeding so much? But no one at the hospital paid me any mind. They simply put us in a corner room that smelled faintly of decay. When no one was watching, I trembled as I unfastened our son’s clothes to examine him. Red and yellow fluids glued his clothes to his skin. When I tugged, our son let out a heart-wrenching scream of pain. The next second, a bowl-sized wound was exposed to the air. My mind buzzed, and the world spun violently around me. Our son’s future, his very manhood, had been severed. Coming to my senses, I scrambled, half-crawling, out to find a doctor, but the room door had been locked from the outside at some point. With all the hospital equipment around, this particular dead-end room had no cell signal. Helpless, I kept pressing the nurse call button, banging on the door, and shouting. “Liam Thorne, are you out there? Please come save our son! His life is in danger!” “Is anyone there? Help! Is there a doctor?” My shrill cries echoed through the corridor. A distant nurse, yawning, finally approached. She opened the door and shoved me roughly. “What’s all that screaming for? A funeral? He’s just bleeding a little. Is your child made of gold?” “Director Thorne and Dr. Flynn are at an academic conference. Who has time to watch your son all day?” I ignored the throbbing pain of my twisted wrist, bit my tongue to force myself calm, and stammered. “Fine, he’s not here, that’s okay. Are there any other doctors? My son is really in a bad state. Please, save him.” The nurse rolled her eyes, scoffing. “This was a surgery approved by Director Thorne and performed by Dr. Flynn herself. What do you, a shrew, know?” “And it’s after hours. This isn’t your hospital; you can’t just demand to see anyone you want.” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Even the junior nurses knew Director Thorne and Dr. Flynn were the hospital’s ‘golden couple,’ while I, his legal wife, was treated like a pariah. Crash! Glass shattered, flying. I smashed a water glass, then held a shard to my throat, threatening. “This is medical malpractice! And because I’m Liam Thorne’s wife! My son isn’t just having normal post-op bleeding, his manhood was mistakenly severed! Call Leo’s father now!” I pressed the glass hard against myself, nearly piercing my throat. With every word, blood trickled from my neck. The young nurse’s face went white. She angrily dialed Liam Thorne. The moment the call connected, I snatched the phone, babbling incoherently for help. 2 “Liam Thorne, come back now! His manhood, our son’s manhood is gone!” “Reattachment has a window of six hours! If you don’t come back and save him, his life will be ruined forever!” At that moment, no other thought crossed my mind, only the desperate need to save my son. On the other end of the line, Liam Thorne paused for several seconds. He knew I would never joke about our son. “Alright, wait for me. I’ll be there immediately—” But then, Dr. Chloe Flynn’s syrupy voice drifted through the phone. “Senior colleague, do you not trust my medical skills?” “I’m your personal protégé, the rose you personally cultivated. Don’t you trust yourself, or don’t you trust me?” Though Chloe was Liam’s intern, she was cross-trained in medicine, originally studying administration. She had never set foot in an operating room before. Liam Thorne’s voice instantly turned icy. “Skye, don’t think I don’t know your sordid thoughts. We’re merely conducting legitimate business.” “His manhood is severed? Why don’t you just say he’s dead? It was just a circumcision. To frame Chloe, you’d even curse your own son. You, you shrew, are beyond redemption.” “Oh, dear, my sister-in-law is just anxious. Senior colleague, look at this lace lingerie. Isn’t it pretty? Buy some to appease your wife.” I broke down. Our son’s life hung in the balance, yet my husband was shopping for lingerie with another woman. What kind of “legitimate business” required a visit to a lingerie store? After the call ended, the nurse walked away with a look of disdain. Perhaps in her eyes, I was merely a jealous madwoman. Due to a post-surgical infection, our son began to convulse with fever. I wanted to hold him, but I was afraid of hurting him, so I could only repeatedly try to cool him down with cold compresses. Our son whimpered, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Daddy, am I brave?” At that moment, tears streamed down my face. He was the child I had conceived after three years of IVF. I had always been meticulous in raising him, sometimes overly so. But because of his gentle nature, Liam always found him disappointing. This time, our son had only cooperated with the surgery because he wanted to be brave, just like Daddy said. It was my fault, my baby. I’m so sorry. Our son saw me crying and tried to wipe away my tears. As he shifted, he suddenly bled out. The bed sheets beneath him instantly became soaked in blood. Seeing this, I panicked, losing a shoe as I ran. I furiously hammered on the room door, screaming for help again. Fortunately, the nurse on duty returned. Before I could even explain our son’s condition, several burly men rushed out from behind her. “This woman’s insane. She’s been causing a scene all night. Director Thorne said she has mental health issues. Just handle her.” After saying that, the men approached with leers, roughly lifted me, and strapped me to the hospital bed, spread-eagled. Countless large hands took the opportunity to roam over my body. Even my inner thighs were bruised purple. My wrists were raw with blood from the restraints. Unable to move, I struggled to signal the nurse with my head to look at my son. “The child is bleeding heavily. If he doesn’t get help soon, he’ll die. Please, find a doctor.” They injected me with a sedative. I slammed my head against the metal bed frame, the stinging pain of tears mixing with blood the only thing keeping me somewhat conscious. The nurse saw the bed sheet beneath our son, blackened and soaked with blood. Her knees buckled. She quickly called Liam Thorne. “Director, maybe you should come back and take a look. This child really has bled a lot.” Liam Thorne sighed impatiently. “Post-op bleeding is perfectly normal, isn’t it? Are you even a medical professional? Can’t handle this? Just quit.” “And if that woman keeps causing trouble, just throw her out.” After the call ended, I looked at the nurse with desperate hope, praying she would stop our son’s bleeding. 3 To my horror, she held her nose, glanced at him from a distance, then turned and uncapped a bottle of hydrogen peroxide from a cabinet, pouring it directly onto his wound. “Hear that? A little post-op bleeding is normal. Why are you screaming like a banshee? Remember to pay for the soiled sheets.” “This surgery was performed by Dr. Flynn and overseen by Director Thorne. How could anything go wrong? We see plenty of entitled mothers like you.” The moment the hydrogen peroxide touched our son’s wound, the surrounding flesh immediately curled and blanched. She then continued to prod the raw flesh in his wound with tweezers. Our son convulsed in agony, his body twisting, only to be yanked straight by the nurse. A guttural gasp rasped in his throat. Watching my son, in too much pain to even cry, I desperately hammered the metal bed, struggling to get down. “Son, my son, just a little longer. Mommy will find a way to save you.” He was only five, he should have been growing up without a care in the world. Instead, he was lying here. His manhood severed. How ironic that Liam Thorne was the best surgeon in the city, having saved countless limbs, yet he refused to come back and save his own son. As I saw my son’s struggles weaken, I exerted all my strength, biting down, and deliberately breaking my own wrist. Ignoring the searing pain of my fractured right hand, I slowly dragged myself next to my son, pressing tightly against his small body. You were brought into this world by your mother, and your mother will never, ever abandon you. In my fading consciousness, my phone, which had been without signal, suddenly flickered twice. I clenched my broken bone, using the pain to force myself to stay awake. Even a sliver of hope, I had to try. Dragging my broken right hand, I crawled on my knees until I finally reached my phone and dialed 911. “Hello, my son has a severe injury and is bleeding heavily from his lower body. Our address is St. Jude’s Medical Center…” But the operator on the other end mercilessly rejected me. “Patient transfer requires a certificate from the attending physician. Furthermore, you are already at the best hospital in this city. Please do not over-utilize medical resources.” I held the phone, almost in despair. By then, our son’s pupils were already somewhat dilated. He murmured faintly, over and over. “Mommy, I hurt so bad. Where’s Daddy? Didn’t he say he’d stay with me if I was a brave little man?” My heart felt like it was tearing apart. I wished the pain was mine. Unsure how to respond, I could only press my forehead against his, trying to soothe him. “Baby, don’t sleep. Daddy will be back soon.” Now, I had no extravagant hopes. I accepted that my son had lost his manhood. I just wanted him to live. He was my flesh and blood. I desperately hammered on the door, the glass shattering, piercing my palm, but I felt no pain. If only my child could be saved, I would willingly die right now. Perhaps heaven heard my prayer. The door before me suddenly opened a crack. I frantically crawled out, only seeing the hurried back of a cleaning lady. I knew this was the most she could do. I used to save empty bottles for her every time I visited. My wrist was broken, so I crawled forward on my elbows. Soon, both elbows were a bloody mess, revealing bone. I crawled tirelessly, leaving a long, crimson trail behind me. Finally, a pair of leather shoes stopped in front of me. I grabbed the person’s pant leg, disregarding everything else, repeating my plea. “Please, save my child.” Then I passed out. 4 When I next awoke, I assumed my son had already received treatment. To my shock, he was sprawled crookedly amidst medical waste, his body covered in filth. Suddenly, a searing pain shot through my scalp. Someone was yanking my hair, forcing my head up. “So you’re the one saying my daughter messed up a surgery? I think you’re just here to cause trouble.” “I truly don’t know how Thorne ever fell for a woman like you. Just die already and make way for my daughter.” The person was Dean Flynn, Dr. Chloe Flynn’s mother and the hospital’s director. She had always wanted Liam Thorne as a son-in-law, but I had somehow gotten in the way years ago. I prostrated myself on the ground, frantically kowtowing to her, not caring if I died. The floor was soon slick with my blood. “Please, save my child. If you’ll save him, I’ll divorce Liam Thorne tomorrow. I’ll take the child and never disturb their lives again.” Dean Flynn kicked me over, then closed the door again. “My daughter is a precious jewel; she will never marry a divorced man. If she marries, it will only be a widower.” I closed my eyes, letting the blood obscure my vision. My son and I would likely not make it out today, no matter what. If anything happened to him, I’d bash my head against the wall beside him, so he wouldn’t be lonely on his journey. Suddenly, the phone rang. Dean Flynn’s eyes held a complex expression as she walked into a darker corner to answer. “Is that Thorne? The Chief Consultant personally came to check. The child is fine. I’ve arranged a private nursing room for both mother and child.” “Don’t worry about the Chief Consultant. You focus on your conference over there; leave this to me. “Oh, coincidentally, the child is asleep right now. He can’t talk to you.” It seemed Liam Thorne still cared about our son. I screamed with all my might. “She’s lying to you! The child is in critical condition! She’s covering up Chloe’s mistake!” Liam Thorne, who had been somewhat hesitant, immediately became enraged. He cursed at me over the phone. “Are you just bored out of your mind? You complain about my junior colleague being an intern, and now you’re slandering my Chief Consultant? “If you’re unhappy with everyone, then just get out of the hospital.” Liam Thorne hung up, watched by Dean Flynn’s sneering eyes. My son and I were dragged back into the corner like two dead dogs. “Thorne has spoken. Trash belongs in the trash heap. Just wait to die and make way for my daughter.” The trash room was swarming with mosquitoes. Flies, drawn by the scent of blood, laid eggs in our son’s wound. Despite my tireless efforts to shoo them away, it was useless. After what felt like an eternity, our son stopped responding to my words. His body grew cold, then his wound began to emit a putrid stench. Soon, maggots crawled out of his flesh. I held my son tightly, rocking him gently, singing his favorite nursery rhymes, hoping he would call me “Mommy” one more time. In my haze, I seemed to hear Liam Thorne’s voice. I strained on tiptoes, peering out the window. Dr. Chloe Flynn was being pushed into Liam Thorne’s embrace by a crowd. Both of them blushed furiously, and the surrounding people jeered. “Congratulations, Dr. Flynn, on your first successful surgery! Aren’t the two heroes going to kiss?” Discharged? Were they talking about us? Who would have thought we were locked in a trash room? Just a door away. Liam Thorne and his mistress reaped fame and fortune outside. Our son seemed to hear his father’s voice and convulsed twice more, then died in my arms. At this point, I had nothing left to live for in this world. I took off the only piece of clothing still intact and wiped my son’s face. My son liked to be clean. He’d get upset if his clothes or face were dirty. But Liam Thorne hated this, saying our son was being dramatic. Yet, I had seen Dr. Chloe throw a fit because the hem of her skirt was dirty, and Liam half-knelt to clean it for her. Was Chloe not “dramatic” then? Perhaps he just despised everything about me and our son. “My baby, if there’s a next life, remember to choose a daddy who loves you.” After wiping our son’s face clean, I tied him tightly to my back with my clothes, then hurled myself backward through the sea-facing window.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392758”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The scion of the Blackwood empire, Liam, was a man forged in fire and ice. Those who crossed him invariably faced a whirlwind of brutal retribution. Unluckily for me, the very stepsister I despised most in this world happened to be his cherished darling, the jewel he guarded in his palm. Just days ago, that stepsister had deliberately shattered my mother’s urn. In front of everyone, I broke her wrist. The very next day, Liam Blackwood’s enforcers dragged me into a suffocating black room, a place where no light reached. My limbs were systematically crushed, my tendons severed. In my dying moments, I mustered every last ounce of strength to send a distress signal to my most trusted bodyguard. But then, I heard my captors address him with chilling deference… “Mr. Blackwood.” In that instant, an overwhelming tide of despair washed over me, drowning every last flicker of hope. I yearned for death, yet Liam Blackwood utterly unraveled. 1 Liam Blackwood was a broken boy I’d found on the streets. It was a torrential downpour, late at night, and a gang of thugs had cornered him in a grimy alley. I watched from the window of my car, intrigued by the desperate struggle unfolding in the rain-soaked darkness. The way he fought was brutal, yet strangely graceful. His drenched shirt clung to the lean, powerful lines of his muscles, every punch, every kick, traced an arc of deadly allure. I could even see raindrops tracing trails down his sculpted abs, catching fragmented gleams on his bruised skin. Even with his forehead streaming blood from a heavy blow, that stark crimson only added a touch of fractured beauty, turning him into a battered yet proud statue, striking a chord deep within the observer. He was outnumbered, of course. Only when two of his ribs cracked and he lay sprawled in the mud, soaked in blood, did I calmly push open my car door and pull out my phone to call the police. The thugs scattered like startled birds. I extended a hand to him. “I’ll save your life, you protect mine for three years. How does that sound?” Cold raindrops plastered his dark hair to his chiseled brow bone. He lifted his gaze, his dark eyes like ancient wells, radiating an icy chill. He didn’t answer, but I took it as a silent agreement. After all, I’d never been some bleeding-heart saint. I was merely acting on an impulse, drawn by a striking face. There was no one in this world to love me; I merely wanted to pick a companion for myself. And he was handsome enough, broken enough, and utterly alone enough. I pursued him for three years, but he remained cold as ice. He was like a wild, untamed wolf. No matter how I tried to extend an olive branch, he always regarded me with a distant gaze, as if I were nothing more than an irrelevant passerby. But strangely, that push-and-pull, that elusive feeling, became an addiction. Though he never claimed to love me, he always appeared whenever I was in danger, his scarred arms shielding me. Perhaps, this wasn’t so bad. Until that charity gala, where he saw my stepsister, Lily White, and fell in love at first sight… That’s when my nightmare truly began. One day, Lily “accidentally” tripped and fell during an argument with me. The next, I was pushed down the stairs, suffering a severe concussion. Another day, my best friend, fed up with Lily’s fake sweetness, made her drink a single glass of wine. The very next, I was forcibly made to drink three liters of hard liquor, nearly dying from a perforated stomach. In just a few short months, I faced escalating retaliation. And the source of all the brutality was Liam Blackwood, the notoriously ruthless heir to the Blackwood empire. No one knew when Lily had charmed Liam, but everyone in Riverton knew that the Blackwood heir adored Lily, considering her the apple of his eye. Anyone who dared to touch a hair on her head would face utter annihilation. Slowly, I was abandoned by everyone. Even my closest friend urged me, “Don’t cross Lily anymore. Liam Blackwood will torture you to death.” But when Lily deliberately knocked over my mother’s urn and ground the ashes with her heel, I didn’t hesitate. I lunged at her, beating her hands until they were a bloody mess. Predictably, the next day I was kidnapped and dragged to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. As the thugs leered, I watched, horrified, as they used iron bars to break my limbs and severed my tendons. “Mr. Blackwood, as you instructed, the lesson has been delivered.” A thug accidentally hit speakerphone. A familiar voice, cold as an ice pick, sliced through the air. “Warn her. If she dares to touch a single hair on Lily’s head again, I’ll skin her alive.” That voice. Flat, merciless. It was a stranger’s voice, utterly unlike the boy who had once shielded me from a knife. I shivered uncontrollably. How could I believe it? The boy I’d rescued in the pouring rain, the man I’d guarded with three years of my sincere affection, was the very monster torturing me to my core? The thug smeared the phone with a disgusting, sticky liquid and tossed it in front of me. “Call someone to pick up your corpse. Remember today’s lesson!” I lay in a pool of blood, watching them saunter off with grins on their faces. Just before the warehouse door clanged shut, I heard their casual chatter: “Mr. Blackwood calculated she’d call you first… after all, she always relied on you the most…” My last shred of hope utterly extinguished. So, Liam Blackwood had never been my salvation. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, the executioner who had personally pushed me into hell. 2 I stared at the filth-smeared phone, recalling the last time Lily was trapped in an elevator. She’d cried, begging me for help. I’d merely sneered, turning on my heel and walking away in my high heels. That night, Liam Blackwood’s men seized me and locked me in a dark room. Three days and three nights, without a drop of water or a bite of food. Darkness coiled around me like a venomous snake, gnawing at my sanity. Liam’s phone had my location. He was the only one who could save me. I shakily dialed his number, only to hear him say: “Apologize to Lily, and I’ll come save you immediately.” I preferred death to bowing down and called the police instead. But I don’t know what methods they used; the police never found my location. When the police came to my home to investigate, my father, my brother Ryan, and even Liam himself, all denied everything without batting an eye. I even became a regular on the “false reporting” blacklist because of it. That time, I endured for three full days, pushed to my absolute limit. I was truly terrified. I cried and apologized to Lily. It was the first time in ten years I had bowed to that venomous mother and daughter. And it was the first time in ten years that Lily had truly trod me underfoot. She said she was so pleased that “big sister” finally understood her mistake. My father and Ryan were both relieved, saying I had finally become “obedient” and “sensible,” and should keep it up. When I emerged from that dark room, I had developed severe claustrophobia. I feared darkness, feared enclosed spaces. But now, lying in this warehouse, I felt no fear at all. Perhaps fear was a meaningless emotion reserved only for those who still clung to life. I didn’t touch the phone. I lay in that warehouse for three days. I remembered so many things. I remembered my childhood, when my mother was alive, and our family of four was filled with joy. I was the pampered princess of the family. I also remembered my mother falling ill, ravaged by chemotherapy and radiation, a skeletal figure. My father started coming home less and less. I remembered my mother’s hysterics, and that woman sending my mother intimate photos of herself and my father during my mother’s most painful moments. I also remembered her and her daughter shamelessly coming to our house to celebrate my mother’s last birthday. My mother trembled with rage. That day, my mother had just returned from chemotherapy, already in unbearable pain. Her heart suddenly gave out, and they couldn’t save her. That day, Ryan held me, crying for a long time. He stroked my back, whispering, “Summer, don’t be afraid. You still have me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Less than a month after my mother’s death, my father eagerly brought his mistress and her daughter home. At first, Ryan and I were allies, united in our hatred for the mistress and her daughter. But when did Ryan start to accept them? Perhaps it was when Lily tremblingly offered him her only candy. Or perhaps it was when Lily was bullied at school, stubbornly refusing to bow her head, yet deliberately squatting on Ryan’s path home, wiping away tears… She was always fragile and pitiable, just like her mistress mother. And I was always the brazen aggressor. I don’t know when it started, but the way Ryan looked at me changed. When Lily and I argued, he chose to side with her. He seemed to have forgotten my mother’s suffering, forgotten why she died. I confronted him, but he seemed impatient. “Mom had cancer. It wasn’t curable anyway…” Look. Such familiar, cold words. That was how my father had excused himself and defended his mistress countless times. Now, even Ryan could say it, so naturally. From then on, I had no family left. And now, the person I had personally rescued and treated as family, for the sake of that wicked mother and daughter, had repeatedly, mercilessly plunged the dagger of death into me. I looked at my broken limbs, then at that filthy phone, and finally, I smiled. This life, filled with nothing but hatred and betrayal, was truly meaningless. I didn’t touch the phone. I just lay there for three days, until the very last moment. 3 I thought I was going to die. But at the last moment, someone kicked open the warehouse door. “Why?! Why didn’t you call me?!” Liam Blackwood burst in, like a maddened beast. In the faint light, he saw me covered in blood, my wrists a mangled mess, and my shins nearly exposing bone. All other sounds faded away. “Summer Hayes, don’t die! I forbid you to die!” He picked up my hand, his own trembling, as if he truly cared whether I lived or died. I cracked a smile, a silent laugh. “Summer Hayes! Summer Hayes! Please, live!” Liquid dripped onto my face. Crocodile tears, perhaps? Ha… I was rushed to the hospital and snatched from the jaws of death. When I opened my eyes, he was there, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night. “Why? Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you ask me for help? Why?” He stared at me, desperate for an answer. He couldn’t understand why the person who once relied on him the most, trusted him above all else, had chosen death over dialing that rescue number. The phone was right there, he was her emergency contact, her only refuge. “Why? Why didn’t you call me?!” Liam repeated, sounding utterly broken and desperate, as if consumed by a feverish madness. I found it almost amusing. Didn’t he want me dead? Who was this performance for now? I glanced at the phone he’d picked up. With just a flick of my eyes, Liam quickly handed me the phone. The moment it touched my hand, he finally seemed to understand. The dried filth on the screen dissolved in the sweat of his palm, leaving a sticky, nauseating residue. As a man, how could he not comprehend what that smear on the phone screen implied? In that instant, he completely froze. “They crippled my hands,” I rasped, the words tearing from my raw, bleeding throat and lips. “They wanted me to use my tongue…” My throat felt like a broken bellows, the sound truly hideous. Liam’s body swayed, as if he might fall. Shock, panic, utter disbelief painted his face, leaving only a tremor. I slowly stretched my cracked lips into a smile. Liam Blackwood, you were the culprit all along. How much longer did you plan to hide it from me? I closed my eyes, not wanting to see him. 4 A doctor came to check on me. “Broken bones are easy enough to set, but ligaments and tendons are extremely difficult to repair. The patient’s injuries are too old. If she had come to the hospital immediately after the injury, we could have guaranteed at least eighty percent function recovery in her hands. But now…” The doctor shook her head, regretfully. “The VIP patient upstairs is the White family’s heiress. She also suffered injuries a few days ago, just minor fractures, but the Blackwood Corporation brought in a global top-tier specialist team for her treatment. They’re still here. If we could get them to help, I believe there’s still a chance for the patient’s hands to regain some function. Not a hundred percent, but at least daily activities like eating and dressing wouldn’t be affected…” The female doctor managing my ward looked at me with deep sympathy. “Our chief personally went to ask them, but they said… they said if it’s you, you need to get on your knees and beg Ms. White…” She knew how humiliating this was, but she had to convey it. Lily’s stepbrother had explicitly demanded she deliver the message. Remembering the murderous look in his eyes, the doctor still shivered with dread. I smiled. “It’s alright. I can always just die.” How pathetic, those words came from my own brother. He truly had forgotten everything about our mother’s death. The doctor’s face turned ashen, unable to utter another word urging me to beg. They knew that if a patient angrily threatened to die, it might just be a momentary loss of control. But when a patient, calm and even smiling, said they could die, it meant they truly wanted to. Liam lost control again. “Summer Hayes, stop being unreasonable!” “You hurt Lily first. It’s just kneeling and apologizing… Is a little pride more important than your life?” I turned to him, sneering. “Apologize to the murderer who killed my mother? I. Would. Rather. Die!” Liam’s veins bulged with rage. He had always been so composed, so distant. This was the first time I’d seen him so utterly unhinged. Did he truly want me on my knees before Lily so badly? I wouldn’t give these animals the satisfaction! I closed my eyes, no longer wanting to see this filthy world. 5 In the end, that specialist team performed the surgery on me. As expected, even world-class experts couldn’t fully restore my severely damaged limbs. From now on, I wouldn’t be able to lift anything heavier than a couple of pounds, nor could I run or dance. After the anesthesia wore off, I endured the searing pain of my hands and feet being cut open again. Lily, surrounded by a throng of medical staff and specialists, entered my room. “Big sister, I know you hate me, but resorting to such desperate measures to hurt me will only provoke Mr. Blackwood’s furious retaliation. Why bother?” Her eyes, veiled in a misty sadness, always carried that fragile, pitiable air. It was this very demeanor that ignited the protective instincts in all men, including my own father and brother. I remembered when she first came to the Hayes home, her hands rough and calloused. Without a man to rely on, she and her mistress mother had eaten leftovers and slept on the streets. Ten years in the Hayes household had pampered her, her skin like porcelain, transformed into the very image of a delicate young lady from a prestigious family. “This time, out of consideration for Liam, I allowed the specialists to save you. But at my birthday party next month, you will publicly apologize to me. This is the condition for my agreement to save you. I hope you won’t go back on your word.” I looked up, my voice flat. “Who agreed to that?” Liam stepped forward. “I did.” He simply looked at me, his expression unreadable, as if I were the one making a scene. I let out a cold laugh. “All of you, get out!” This man I had loved for three years—I didn’t want him anymore! Lily’s tears finally fell. “Big sister, I’m doing this for your own good! If you don’t bow your head, do you want Mr. Blackwood to handle it personally?” She looked at my injuries and cried even harder, her sorrow seemingly so genuine. Liam frowned, displeased. He gently stroked Lily’s back. “Lily, you go back first. On your birthday, I promise I’ll make sure she’s there to apologize!” Lily was satisfied. As she lowered her head to wipe away her tears, a faint, triumphant smirk played on her lips. When she looked up again, her eyes were clear. “I trust Liam.” That look alone probably melted Liam’s heart. I watched him as he escorted Lily out until she completely disappeared, then I couldn’t help but laugh. “If I don’t go, are you planning to drag me there by force?” Liam’s brow furrowed. “Lily could have refused to let those specialists operate on you!” His implication was clear: I was ungrateful and didn’t know how to appreciate his efforts. “I told you, I was willing to die. I never intended for anyone to save me, including you!” Liam’s hand trembled, as if he’d recalled something. His face turned terrifyingly cold, but he didn’t utter another word, quietly backing out of the room. 6 Soon, the news of my ‘bullying’ Lily again reached Ryan’s ears. My own brother, who hadn’t appeared once while I battled between life and death for days, immediately stormed into my hospital room. “Mr. Hayes, have you come to collect your dear sister’s corpse? Should I say you’re too early or too late?” Ryan’s brow furrowed. “Summer, even after all this, you still don’t see your mistake?” His expression, as if I were a naughty, irrational child, disgusted me. My voice turned cold. “Did you tell me to kneel and apologize to Lily White?” Ryan’s eyebrows shot up. Rage surged in my chest. “Ryan Hayes, you want me to kneel and apologize to the animal who murdered my mother and deliberately shattered her urn? Ryan Hayes, you’re despicable! Do you have any respect for Mom’s spirit?” SMACK! Ryan’s slap connected with full force. My already weakened body reeled, the impact sending a fresh concussion through my brain. Through blurred vision, I saw Liam raise his hand, then lower it, standing still, observing coldly. A sneer twisted my lips. This was the man I’d picked up from the street, the bodyguard I’d employed for three years… I tugged at my lips, and a drop of crimson stained the pristine white sheets. My mouth filled with the taste of rust. My head spun. I squeezed my eyes shut. Ryan instinctively reached out to steady me, but I recoiled. Slowly, I opened my eyes and stared at him. This was the first time Ryan had ever laid a hand on me. Even he hadn’t expected to hit so hard! Regret, perhaps a little, but it wouldn’t change his stance. Ryan concealed his trembling fingers. “Summer Hayes, don’t pretend! Even if you die right here in front of me, I will never pity you! Lily is not that kind of person. If you dare to slander or harm her again, you won’t need the Blackwood heir to act. I’ll finish you myself!” I laughed. My own brother, for the sake of a wicked stepsister, said he would personally finish me? Ha ha ha, how could anything be so ridiculous in this world? “Ryan Hayes, don’t worry. Even if I die, I’ll drag the person who killed my mother to hell with me. Ha ha ha…” My whole body shook with laughter, and my freshly sutured wounds burst open, blood quickly soaking through the bandages. The shrill alarm of the heart monitor blared through the room. Ryan and Liam both panicked simultaneously. Both their hands reached out to hold me down. “Summer Hayes, don’t move! I command you, don’t move!” “Doctor! Doctor! Why isn’t the doctor here yet…” 7 Medical staff arrived quickly, staunching the bleeding and bandaging my wounds. Ryan was a mixture of anger and panic. “Summer Hayes, you are simply incorrigible!” He stormed out after the doctor finished bandaging me, leaving those words hanging in the air. Liam poured me a glass of water and held it to my lips. “Take a sip. Your lips are cracked and bleeding.” I watched him coldly, neither moving nor speaking. Liam sighed. “Everyone is on Lily’s side. Even your own brother. I heard Ryan used to dote on you. Haven’t you reflected on why you ended up abandoned by everyone?” “I have,” I replied. “Three years ago, I shouldn’t have saved you. I shouldn’t have brought you home. And I certainly shouldn’t have regarded you as family…” Liam’s face, which had just begun to relax, tightened into a mask of coldness. That same night, after I’d fallen asleep, Liam went to the restroom and took a call. The hospital room was quiet, and I faintly overheard their conversation. “Were those people dealt with?” “Dealt with! Mr. Blackwood, I’m sorry, I never expected them to smear that kind of stuff on Ms. Hayes’s phone! I’ve already taken care of them with a ‘physical’ lesson!” Liam nodded, satisfied. “Mr. Blackwood, we checked. Ms. Hayes wasn’t lying. It was indeed Ms. White who provoked her, shattered her mother’s urn, and even dared her to break her hand, saying she wanted to see how you’d retaliate!” “Mr. Blackwood, you really did misjudge Ms. Hayes…” The truth was so easily found. Liam, now, what do you intend to do? “The person I care about naturally has the right to act as they please. As for others…” Liam paused, not continuing. Even without saying it, I understood. Others, even if Lily killed them, he would cover for her. And I was one of those “others.” This was Liam’s stance. Even if Lily killed me one day, he’d probably still commend her for protecting herself. Ha ha… I squeezed my eyes shut. I had truly given my heart to the wrong person. Liam returned from his call and tucked the blanket around me. His movements were gentle, but my heart stirred with no ripple of emotion. The next morning, I woke up my phone’s assistant. “Call Alex Stone.” The dialing tone hummed. Liam returned with breakfast and, seeing the situation, suddenly realized. “That day, you could have called for help using voice commands…” I looked up. “And then?” Liam fell silent. “And then, like before, you would force me to apologize to the enemy who smashed my mother’s urn? If so, I’d rather die!” Liam’s body stiffened, unable to utter another word. He remembered the emergency doctor’s words that day: “If she had arrived a little later, not even a god could have saved her!” That sentence haunted him like a nightmare. Even now, he dared not close his eyes fully. He clenched his fists, then slowly released them. The call connected on the last second. “Alex, help me find a bodyguard.” 8 Liam’s nerves were violently frayed again. “You said you only wanted me as your bodyguard!” His eyes held a raw fury, a sense of betrayal and abandonment, just like when his own mother had left him. That woman who claimed to love him, who abandoned him no matter how he cried and begged… Liam’s emotions were a tumultuous storm, but I remained calm. “Liam Blackwood, haven’t you always wanted to leave? I’m granting you your freedom. Now, you can go to Lily White! I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to have you!” Liam’s face immediately turned ashen. “The contract was for three years! There’s still one month left!” This was what he wanted, yet now that I was giving him his freedom, he seemed displeased. Ha, men! I didn’t care. Even another word felt like too much effort. “Whatever. Stay if you want to…” Liam’s already severe face grew even colder. Soon, Alex arrived with his men. Alex was my sworn rival, yet he was also the only person I trusted not to stab me in the back. Alex leaned against the hospital room door, casting a cool glance at me, then at Liam. His schadenfreude was almost palpable. “Want to mock me? I’ll give you three minutes.” I met his gaze. We’d been at odds since kindergarten; we knew each other inside out. But this time, Alex, unusually, held his tongue. With a wave of his hand, three bodyguards entered the room. All three were over six feet three inches tall. Taller than Liam, more muscular than Liam, and even strikingly handsome. I casually picked one and also asked Alex to find me a female nurse to help me with washing up until my hands and feet could move. I was discharged from the hospital after more than ten days. The first thing I did when I got home was reassign the rooms. The nurse and the new bodyguard would stay on the second floor. Liam was to move to the first-floor guest room. As he moved his things downstairs, Liam’s face was clouded with resentment. He said, “You and Alex are rivals. The people he finds might not be trustworthy.” I laughed. “However untrustworthy, they wouldn’t stand by and watch my enemies abuse me, nor would they threaten me during a crisis to apologize to my enemies!” Liam fell silent. 9 In the days that followed, I never asked Liam to do anything. I didn’t even call his name. He used to complain when I called his name constantly, even for a fruit bowl within arm’s reach. Now that I no longer bothered him, he seemed displeased. When I started going out without calling for him, he finally couldn’t sit still any longer. He gripped the armrest of my wheelchair, his eyes simmering with a molten intensity. “Half a month left!” “Alright.” I replied without a trace of hesitation. He seemed to visibly relax, then leaned down and lifted me into the car. I caught his familiar scent. Every time he’d rescued me before, he’d held me just like this, carefully enveloping me in that reassuring scent. I had approached him countless times, craving his presence. But now, that scent only brought back memories of my past foolishness, the terror and despair of being trapped in that dark room, and the broken limbs, the hands that would never be whole again… My body began to tremble uncontrollably. I turned my head away, wanting to be as far from him as possible. Sensing my reaction, a strange emotion surged within Liam. He just knew Summer couldn’t bear to leave him. She was still the same, trembling with nerves when he got close. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Liam’s lips. “Where do you want to go today?” “The bank.” “You want me to apologize to her, don’t you? I should at least get a decent gift.” Liam looked at me through the rearview mirror, his mood clearly improving, pleased by my “sensibleness.” I stared out the car window, not glancing at him again. 10 The moment we arrived at the bank, I spotted a familiar car. Last year, on my birthday, I had won a prestigious jewelry design award. I’d fallen in love with that supercar; it was the only ladies’ exclusive model in the entire country. But my brother, Ryan, had bought it first, presenting it as a gift to Lily. From then on, that car became another trophy in her arsenal, a symbol of her triumph over me. Anything I desired, Lily would snatch—the sports car, and Liam too! After finishing my business and exiting the VIP lounge, I saw Lily. She was in another private room, holding a jewelry box, “humbly” showing off its contents amidst the staff’s lavish praise. “Tomorrow’s my birthday. Ryan told me to pick out a few pieces to wear. Which one do you think looks best?” These jewels were part of my mother’s inheritance to Ryan, now reduced to trinkets used to curry favor with her murderer. A wave of bitter resentment washed over me. Liam also looked over, his eyes soft as water. “Aren’t you going to say hello?” I asked, a sneer in my voice. He squared his shoulders. “I said I’d stay by your side and protect you.” I gave an ambiguous hum. At the bank’s entrance, Lily and I inevitably crossed paths. “Liam!” Lily called out sweetly, spotting him immediately. Just then, a car careened out of control, rushing straight towards me. “Watch out!” Liam’s expression changed instantly. He dropped me without a second thought and rushed to Lily, pulling her out of the way. I, utterly immobilized, was completely exposed to the unforgiving steel of the out-of-control vehicle. Everyone gasped in terror. I felt no fear, only a mocking gaze fixed on the man who had just vowed to protect me. In the final second, Liam seemed to remember me, frantically turning his head, his eyes meeting mine. A sudden, inexplicable dread gripped him. He lunged back towards me, but it was too late. “Summer Hayes!” A powerful force pulled me away. The car barely scraped past my wheelchair footrest. Alex’s face was ashen, his lips trembling, momentarily speechless. Liam finally reached me, his hands shaking. I looked coldly into his eyes. “You said you’d protect me. Ha…” Liam slowly clenched his fists. He wanted to explain, but I no longer wanted to listen. I told Alex to take me home. For the first time, I left Liam behind. For the first time, Liam took a taxi to follow me home. It had started to rain, I don’t know when. I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the endless downpour. He stood downstairs, looking up at me, his gaze stubborn and determined. He looked exactly as he had the day I picked him up. That day, too, it had been raining heavily. I turned my head. “Close the curtains.” The nurse immediately obeyed. The heavy curtains fell, completely shutting off my world from his. 11 On Lily’s birthday, Ryan called first thing in the morning to warn me. “If you don’t come apologize to Lily today, you don’t need to come back to the Hayes home ever again!” He seemed to have forgotten that I hadn’t set foot in that so-called home for three years. But I still went. When Liam saw me leaving, he once again was the first to reach for the armrest of my wheelchair. But this time, I didn’t move. I simply looked at him, silently. Meeting my gaze, his hand slowly released the chair.

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1 The day I entered the palace, my dowry—a hundred chests—was displayed at the gates. Strange words flashed before my eyes: [Run! That’s Consort Clara—skinned alive by Emperor Cyrus and fed to his python!] [The emperor hates curvy women! Her parents sent her to die for their adopted daughter!] [Switch places with the adopted girl now!] In my past life, I believed those words and refused to enter the palace. My parents sent their adopted daughter in my place, with my dowry. I married the poor scholar she rejected—his cruel mother, sharp-tongued sister, and five stepchildren broke me. When I fled home, my adopted sister whipped me out: “A wife’s duty is to serve her husband! Running back shames all women!” My parents, who once adored me, coldly sent me back: “You belong to his family now. Live or die there.” I starved, froze, and died in my third winter. Only then did I learn the floating words were her trickery. Now, my adopted sister Theodora clutched my sleeve, greed dripping from her eyes. The words swirled madly. I picked up my wedding gown, staring her down: “You want to be Consort?” “You’re not worthy.” The imperial sedan, sent to escort me into the palace, waited outside the gate. Theodora, my cousin-sister, stared at the red wedding gown in my hands, her eyes practically overflowing with jealousy and malice. “Cousin Clara, I hear His Majesty has fangs and a green face, and kills people as casually as chopping vegetables. Your figure, naturally plump as it is, which man would ever favor it? How will you possibly fare in the palace?” Ever since the imperial decree naming me Consort Clara arrived, she had been whispering malicious rumors about the Emperor, off and on. I had always thought she was concerned for me, worried about my well-being, and thus sought out information. Only later did I realize she was clearly coveting my dowry and my position as Consort. I slammed my teacup to the ground, the porcelain shattering. “Insolence! Speaking ill of His Majesty, Cousin, do you wish for our entire family to be punished by imperial decree?” Theodora, startled by my sudden severity, shrank back. Countless floating words instantly erupted before my eyes. [Heroine, don’t be a fool! Only your cousin tells you the truth!] [Exactly! Only your cousin wants to save you, heroine! Quick, tell her to swap places with you! As long as you don’t enter the palace, you’ll be saved!] Theodora’s tears flowed instantly, just as easily as they had in my past life. “I am merely concerned for you, Cousin, fearing you will not fare well.” She cried with such genuine emotion, as if she truly worried for me. If not for the bitter lessons of my past life, I might truly have believed I misunderstood her. I ignored her completely, turning my back and, in front of her, began to put on my wedding gown. “My apologies, Cousin, but with a hundred chests of dowry and the position of Consort, how could I not fare well?” “If I recall correctly, Cousin, you are also marrying today, aren’t you? Why haven’t you changed into your dress yet?” “Unless… you wish to enter the palace with me? As a concubine?” Seeing the maids and matchmakers all looking at her, Theodora’s face turned from green to purple. “Cousin, how could you think such a thing of me?” “If not, then Cousin, please return to your room to get ready. It would be improper to miss the auspicious hour.” Theodora froze, stubbornly unwilling to leave. She wouldn’t give up today without achieving her goal! I waved my hand, and several maids immediately surrounded her. “Young Miss Theodora, allow us to escort you to get ready.” “Young Miss, the groom is waiting impatiently.” The floating words suddenly reappeared, overwhelming me! [No way?! Is the heroine actually going to feed the python?! Oh my god, she’s actually refusing this perfect chance to swap places!] [Though the scholar is poor, he truly dotes on his wife! The heroine will surely not suffer if she marries him.] [Good advice is wasted on the doomed!] I scoffed. Since this was the perfect husband Theodora herself had chosen, let her experience him firsthand. I put on my phoenix crown, and Mother placed the red veil over my face, escorting me out the door. The wedding sedan swayed, and a wave of overwhelming drowsiness suddenly washed over me. Something was wrong! The floating words appeared again. [Just sleep. Everything will be fine when you wake up.] [Don’t struggle! Even a strong man couldn’t withstand this knockout drug! You won’t be able to stay awake.] Theodora had actually drugged me with a knockout potion! I desperately pinched my palms and thighs, but my vision grew increasingly blurry. In a split second, I pulled out the golden hairpin from my hair and stabbed it hard into my thigh! Blood gushed! The pain instantly cleared my head. Peeking through the sedan curtain, I saw it—this was definitely not the way to the palace! I immediately ordered the sedan bearers to stop. “Stop! I am His Majesty’s Consort Clara! Where are you taking me?” A cold scoff came from outside the sedan. “What daydream are you having? This is clearly Scholar Wyatt’s sedan for his new bride.” Theodora swapped my sedan? But how was that possible? Mother herself had helped me into this sedan. No time to think. I immediately slipped off a golden bangle from my wrist and handed it to the sedan bearers. “Turn around, head for the Imperial Palace. These are all yours.” The sedan absolutely could not reach the Wyatt family’s home, or everything would be too late. They took the golden bangle, bit it to test its authenticity, exchanged glances, and then pocketed it. Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the next second, he spat at me directly. “Old Man Cloud and Old Lady Cloud already told us their daughter had hysterics. Send you to the palace? Dream on.” Floating words danced before my eyes. [You’ll be at the Wyatt home soon, why are you still resisting? Just be a good wife to Scholar Wyatt.] [Though Scholar Wyatt has five children, all five will become powerful officials in the future, very promising! How can you bear to see them without a mother?] [Accept your fate, accept your fate.] The sedan bearers directly blocked the sedan door. The suffering of my past life flashed before my eyes like a galloping horse. No, I absolutely would not yield. I grabbed the hairpin and stabbed it fiercely into their backs. The sedan bearers screamed and released the sedan poles. I seized the opportunity and bolted out. This place was not far from the capital. If I ran fast enough, perhaps I could still make it. However, the moment I stepped out of the sedan, Scholar Wyatt emerged from nowhere. His teeth yellowed, he grabbed a handful of my hair. “You stinking hag, the Cloud family has already sold you to me. Where do you think you’re going?” [Don’t let his looks deceive you, he’s truly a good man who dotes on his wife.] [Little Sister, you’ve really hit the jackpot by marrying him.] [Quick, go and perform the marriage rites with him.] I kicked him hard in the stomach. “The one marrying you is Theodora White, not me! You’ve been tricked! I am Consort Clara, personally bestowed by the Emperor! Can you bear the consequences of offending a Consort?” He cried out in pain from my kick, and slapped me directly across the face. “You stinking woman! I don’t care what Consort or not Consort you are! The Cloud family sent you here, so you’re my wife now!” “Now hurry up and come home with me for the marriage rites! My clothes are waiting for you to wash!” I was dizzy from his slap, my eyes seeing stars, and I spat out a mouthful of blood. The floating words gloated: [You should have just gone along with the marriage rites, why did you dare to hit your husband? You deserve to be beaten to death, you deserve it.] [Men are heaven, he is your heaven, how can you resist him?] [Once you enter the Wyatt family’s door, be a good wife and mother.] The entrance to the Wyatt family home was just ahead. I stopped, giving up the struggle entirely. Scholar Wyatt, noticing my sudden cessation of resistance, paused in surprise. In that very instant, I pulled out the sachet of scented powder from my bosom and flung it into his eyes. “You wretched woman!” Scholar Wyatt cursed angrily, rubbing his eyes. But his eyes were completely coated in powder. He chased for two steps, then stumbled and fell to the ground. I summoned every ounce of strength, running frantically. I finally caught up to Theodora’s phoenix sedan just before it entered the palace. I threw myself onto the sedan. “I am the real Clara Frost! I am the Consort appointed by the Emperor! The person inside is an impostor!” “An impostor?” The guards looked at me, uncertain. Young Miss Cloud rarely left the residence; they had never seen me before. I frantically searched my body for a token to prove my identity. My cousin-sister, Theodora, tearfully peeked out from the phoenix sedan. “Cousin, you eat my family’s food, live in my family’s house. Your usual jealousy is bad enough, but now you even want to snatch my chance at becoming a Consort?” “It’s not that I’m unwilling to yield, but Cousin, your figure is so plump. If His Majesty sees you, it might even implicate our entire Cloud family.” Passersby gathered, two by two. “Stealing your own cousin’s marriage? That’s utterly shameless.” “With her appearance, she doesn’t even look like a noble lady. And she wants to impersonate Young Miss Cloud to marry into the palace and become a concubine? She must have eaten a leopard’s heart!” “Precisely! Precisely!” I had run so hard, my wedding gown was torn and stained with blood, my hair a complete mess. Meanwhile, Theodora in the sedan wore a phoenix crown and robes, her clothes spotless. To anyone looking, she would appear to be the true Young Miss Cloud. The floating words reappeared to sow discord. [Don’t bother explaining, no one will believe you. If Emperor Cyrus sees you like this, he might even execute your entire clan.] [Your parents were so good to you, do you want to implicate them too?!] [Quick, say you’re jealous of your cousin, say it!] I gritted my teeth, gripping the phoenix sedan with all my might. A guard kicked me in the lower back, pointing his saber at me. Just then, I saw my parents rushing over, and a wave of overwhelming joy washed over me. “Father, Mother, Theodora swapped my sedan! Quick, tell them I’m the real Clara Frost!” No one could prove my identity better than my parents. Father rushed over, but before I could speak, he slapped me. “My own daughter, how could I not recognize her? You dare to come here and cause trouble!” “Our Cloud family fed you, clothed you, and yet you still want to steal my daughter’s marriage?” “The one in the phoenix sedan is my daughter, Clara Frost! Our Cloud family only recognizes this one daughter!” Mother hid behind Father, wiping away tears. “Theodora, please, stop causing trouble. Your husband’s family is waiting for you.” “Just go back and be a good wife and mother.” It turned out my parents had already sided with Theodora. The surrounding commoners began to spit at me. “How can there be such a shameless person in this world?” “She must have gone mad with hysterics.” Outside the crowd, Scholar Wyatt caught up. He grabbed my arm, twisting it, and pulled me up. “Excuse me, everyone, I accidentally let my crazy wife escape.” “Now hurry up and come home with me for the marriage rites!” With that, he dragged me by the arm, pulling me out of the crowd. The crowd automatically parted for him. Was I destined to be unable to change my fate, even in this new life? The floating words flashed by rapidly, one by one, filled with mockery. [I told you already, accept your fate, struggling is useless.] [Even your own parents don’t recognize you. You’ll never be able to turn your life around.] [Being a stepmother to five children, a housemaid for the Wyatt family, that is your final destiny, ha ha ha.] I was powerless to resist, completely trapped by Scholar Wyatt. Tears of helplessness streamed down my face. However, at that moment, a shrill voice suddenly boomed through the air. “Everyone, stop! His Majesty has arrived!” A yellow imperial carriage halted before me. The Emperor, his lips slightly curved, rested his pale, slender hand on the carriage. His dark gold dragon robes billowed in the wind, his knuckles lightly tapping. “How dare you insult My Consort?” Everyone by the roadside knelt in terror.

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I was the golden child of a wealthy dynasty. In my past life, false accusations got me expelled from the Elite Arts Academy. My father died of shock, and our empire collapsed. Exiled to a rural labor camp, I suffered terribly. When I finally returned, I found Ethan Blackwood—my fiancé—beaten and forced into crippling debt. Guilt-ridden, I worked as a club dancer, even selling myself to a disgusting client to pay it off. The day I cleared the debt, I brought gifts—only to catch Ethan (who was supposedly paralyzed) in bed with my adoptive sister, Summer. Summer: “Thanks for reporting Ellie. Without you, I’d never have replaced her as lead dancer.” Ethan: “What if she finds out the debt was fake? That the client was just a paid actor?” Summer: “Who cares? She stole everything from you—your dance career, your inheritance. And she never suspected I faked my injury.” I vomited blood and died on the spot. But fate gave me a second chance. This time, I took that damning letter—and switched the name to Summer’s. 1 When my eyes next fluttered open, I was back to the day before the report was made. “Ellie, rehearsal’s over, why are you still lingering? Waiting for Ethan, are we?” A colleague from the Academy called out, a playful smirk on her face. I offered them a shy, manufactured smile. Everyone at the troupe knew Ethan and I were childhood sweethearts. But in my previous life, on this very day, he had personally placed an anonymous accusatory note on Director Hayes’s desk. From that moment on, my reputation was shattered, my life spiraled, and I met a humiliating end. Thank heavens for this second chance. This time, I’d turn the tables. Once the Academy emptied out and the lights dimmed, a furtive shadow slipped into the Director’s office – it was Ethan Blackwood, the Academy’s smooth-talking announcer. I hid in the murky corner, observing. A few minutes later, he left. I stepped inside the office. There, on the desk, lay a stark envelope. I tore it open. The contents were identical to the letter from my past life. It smeared my name, claiming promiscuity, involvement with multiple men, and even serving as a wealthy patron’s kept woman. I took the original letter, replacing it with an exact replica. The only difference? The name accused in the letter. I’d changed it from mine to Summer Woods. Even after it was done, a tremor of unreality ran through me. Last life, that letter had dragged me through hell. My name utterly destroyed, I’d rushed home, desperate for Father’s help, only to hear the housekeeper weeping that he’d spat blood and died from the shock. The family estate had plunged into bankruptcy, and I’d been forcibly sent away to that desolate rural work program. Overnight, I’d plummeted from the clouds into the mud. Before I left, I’d worried about Ethan and Summer suffering, so I’d given them the last scraps of our family fortune to manage, keeping nothing for myself. Life in the countryside was a brutal nightmare. Every grimy, back-breaking chore fell to me. I was ostracized, forced to sleep in a drafty barn, and battled endless illnesses through bitter winters and scorching summers. Once, I was sent to forage for firewood in the desolate hills after dark and narrowly escaped a pack of wild wolves. One agonizing memory after another flooded my mind, filling me with a raw, searing pain. Hatred, cold and deep, settled in my bones, and I burned with a furious self-pity. As I stepped out of the Academy gates, I saw Ethan hadn’t left yet. He spotted me, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Ellie, why are you leaving so late? Wasn’t rehearsal over hours ago?” “Just took some time tidying up props today,” I said, a cold politeness in my voice. His hypocritical face made me want to say no more. Ethan visibly relaxed, seeing no suspicion in my reply. We walked down the quiet street in silence, each consumed by our own thoughts. Suddenly, a figure sprang out, intimately linking arms with Ethan. “Ethan, why did you leave first? Weren’t we going to celebrate with a fancy dinner tonight? After tomorrow, no one can stop us from being together…” That cloying voice could only belong to Summer Woods. We all worked at the Academy, yet he rarely sought me out. Turns out, after work every day, he was sneaking around with Summer. Ethan frantically pushed her away, turning to explain to me. “Ellie… she meant for all three of us to have dinner tonight. I just got paid…” Only then did Summer seem to notice me, a flash of annoyance in her eyes, quickly masked. “You two go on,” I cut in, too weary to watch their pretense. “I’m tired. Going home.” The real show, after all, wouldn’t start until tomorrow. Right now, all I wanted was to get home to Father—this time, he was still alive… “Sister, do you hate me that much? You won’t even share a meal with me.” Summer’s eyes welled up. Ethan looked at her with sickening tenderness, then rounded on me, his voice sharp with accusation. “Summer is your sister, after all. Why must you always hurt her feelings? You will come to this dinner.” Before I could protest, Ethan roughly tugged me, practically dragging me into the restaurant. 2 At the table, they chattered animatedly, completely ignoring me. Now, looking back, it had always been like this. Back then, I was foolish enough to believe their closeness was due to my presence, unaware of their secret affair brewing behind my back. Ethan, as if realizing he’d neglected me, feigned concern. “Ellie, eat more.” I looked at the mango shrimp salad, the French pudding… all of Summer’s favorites. Ethan had completely forgotten my seafood allergy, forgotten my utter dislike for anything overly sweet. My gaze drifted to the dance hall opposite, lost in thought. In my last life, after two years of aimless misery in the rural work program, I returned to the city to find Ethan confined to a wheelchair. Summer, in a torrent of tears, claimed Father’s enemies had stolen all our money, beaten Ethan, leaving him paralyzed and bound to a wheelchair for life. The guilt was overwhelming. I ran to the Onyx Club, taking a job as a dance hostess, desperate to earn enough to repay the supposed debts. I often found myself brawling over paltry tips, enduring vile insults: “Look at her, thrown out of the countryside for being a mistress, now she’s stealing clients? Addicted to being a home-wrecker, aren’t we?” Back then, I’d clutched the crumpled bills, swallowing my pride and the humiliation, all so I could buy them their favorite desserts after my shift. I poured my heart out for them, yet they couldn’t even remember what I was allergic to. The server, bringing our food, stumbled. A sizzling steak slid off the plate. My hand shot out instinctively to block it. The searing heat instantly blistered my arm, blood-red and bubbling. Summer, seated next to me, was also grazed, but her skin was only faintly pink. Ethan, in a flurry of concern, cupped her hand, gently blowing on it. Summer’s face flushed scarlet with apparent bashfulness. The server apologized profusely. A man in a sharp suit approached. “My deepest apologies, Miss. I’m the restaurant manager. Your meal is on the house today, and I’ll personally take you to a clinic for dressing.” I nodded, wincing in pain. Only then did Ethan seem to register the severity of my injury. Yet, I heard him say to the manager, “Could you take this lady first? Summer just has a scratch; Ellie’s injury can wait.” His shameless audacity made me laugh, a bitter, breathless sound. The manager, momentarily stunned, pretended not to hear, helped me up, and led me out of the restaurant, driving me to the clinic. Behind us, I heard Ethan’s enraged shouts and Summer’s feigned sobs. It was late when my arm was finally bandaged. The manager drove me home. He leaned against the car, his voice a lazy drawl. “I’m Jaxson Sterling. If you need any help in the future, you can find me at Sterling Manor on Willow Creek Lane, number 8.” I waved back. “I’m Eleanor Vance.” Jaxson Sterling smiled, a brief, knowing nod, and watched me go. When I returned, Ethan was seething. “Ellie, why are you back so late? Were you on a date with that man? How could you throw yourself at just anyone?” I was utterly speechless. “I burned my hand. If you won’t care, at least don’t slander me. And anyway, who I associate with is none of your business.” Summer interjected, “Sister, how can you speak to Ethan like that? If you ever get into trouble again, only we can help you…” A subtle flicker of malice crossed her eyes, hinting at something dark. “Oh, really? We’ll see about that,” I retorted, a cold smile on my lips. Seeing my defiance, Ethan shoved a gift box into my hands. “I picked this up while shopping. Consider it compensation for your burn.” It was the first time Ethan had ever given me a gift. He expected me to be overjoyed – in the past, even a wildflower he’d picked from the roadside could bring tears to my eyes. But this time, I didn’t spare it a glance. I took the gift and walked straight upstairs. 3 Pushing open Father’s bedroom door, I saw his kind face, peacefully asleep. I asked the housekeeper, “Has Father taken his medicine today?” “Yes, Miss. The Second Miss has been personally preparing his traditional remedies recently.” “Nonsense! Since when is it her place to handle his medicine?” I reprimanded the housekeeper sharply. “Forgive me, Miss Eleanor. You’ve always indulged the Second Miss, so I didn’t dare report it.” “From now on, Summer Woods is not to interfere with Father’s diet or daily care.” I carefully collected the remaining herbal dregs and instructed a footman to send them to Sterling Manor on Willow Creek Lane, number 8. In my previous life, Father had suffered a fatal hemorrhage before I even returned home. He had always loved and trusted me. He wouldn’t have succumbed to mere rumors. There had to be foul play. Summer Woods, if you dare harm my family, I will make you pay a hundredfold. The next morning, I came down for breakfast to find Summer and Ethan already seated at the dining table. Summer was wearing the most fashionable vintage gown, adorned with a matching diamond necklace and earrings. The glittering diamonds, accented with emeralds, made her look strikingly glamorous. The style felt eerily familiar. I remembered the gift Ethan had given me yesterday—it was of the same aesthetic. Compared to her set, my gift was painfully cheap—it was merely a trinket, a throw-in with Summer’s extravagant jewelry. Summer caught my gaze, her voice dripping with feigned fragility. “Am I making you angry, Sister, by wearing new clothes? “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to steal your thunder. It’s just… I’ve never worn such a beautiful dress. Ethan gave it to me, and I love it so much.” Before I could open my mouth, Ethan sneered, his voice laced with venom: “She’s your sister. Her looking beautiful reflects well on you. Are you afraid she’ll outshine you? Ellie, you’re too jealous.” I remembered Summer usually wore faded, worn-out dresses. Ethan had often scolded me for it, claiming I was stingy with my sister. But every time we went shopping, I bought her loads of clothes and accessories, which she never wore. I tried to explain countless times, but Ethan simply turned a deaf ear. I could only silently pay for the clothes he picked out for Summer, and then, he would begrudgingly favor me with a small smile. Back then, I was naive enough to believe he cared for my family. But it turned out Summer was deliberately playing the victim, creating the illusion that I mistreated her, all to gain Ethan’s sympathy. Hmph, such pathetic tactics. I slowly, deliberately, sliced the toast on my plate. “How about I set up a stage in the backyard, and you two can perform a full-blown melodrama for everyone?” “Summer Woods, honestly, when have I ever gone shopping without buying you clothes? I often buy more for you than for myself.” “And Ethan Blackwood, this is my house. You have no right to speak here. Pack your things. Get out.” In my previous life, these two scoundrels used my money to carry on their sordid affair in Father’s mansion, while I suffered isolated misery in the countryside. This time, your good days are over. Ethan exploded in a rage. “You want to kick me out? I’m going to marry you! This house will be partly mine!” Ethan was originally the son of Father’s business partner. After his family fell on hard times, they moved back to the countryside. Out of sentiment for our childhood connection, and fearing he’d struggle, I pleaded with Father to let him stay at our home. I never imagined that being too kind to some people only breeds insatiable greed. 4 “What’s all this commotion so early in the morning?” Father descended the grand spiral staircase. I rushed forward to steady him. He affectionately pinched my cheek. “My little darling, how’s rehearsal going? This time, Dad won’t miss your performance.” “I’ve practiced so well, Dad. You simply must come see it in a few days.” Summer watched our tender exchange, biting her lower lip in simmering resentment. Ethan discreetly squeezed her hand, whispering a reassurance. “After today, Ellie’s reputation will be ruined. Everything here will be yours.” Only then did her expression soften. She turned to me, a smug glint in her eyes. “Sister, shall we go? I’m really looking forward to today’s… rehearsal.” 【Alright, Summer Woods, if you’re so eager to plummet to hell, I’ll gladly oblige.】 In my past life, I met a client at the Onyx Club who offered to be my patron, his terms lavish enough to clear all my debts. That patron often tormented me in bed, driving me to the brink of despair. Afraid Ethan and Summer would worry, I only dared to cry and vent when no one was around. Later, Ethan caught me getting out of the patron’s car. Overwhelmed with shame, I wept, saying I was soiled, that I could never be worthy of him again. He pulled me into his arms. “Ellie is the purest girl. It’s all my fault, a useless cripple. Otherwise, why would I make you do such things? Once the debt is paid, we’ll get married. I’ll protect you for the rest of our lives.” With Ethan’s promise, I worked even harder. The day I finally paid off the debt, I joyfully quit my dance hostess job, bid farewell to the patron, and went shopping for gifts for them both. I ran home through the rain, soaked to the bone, but the gifts, clutched to my chest, remained perfectly dry. Pushing open the front door, through a narrow crack, I saw Ethan, who should have been in a wheelchair, holding Summer as if he were whole, entangled in passionate kisses on the bed. Then I heard the full, horrifying truth. The ones who had brought me to this ruin were the very people I held dearest. Rage surged through me, a violent current. My already sickly, weakened body could no longer bear it. I coughed up a torrent of blood. Before I lost consciousness, I heard Ethan tell Summer: “Ellie’s nothing but a harlot, sick from being used. I wouldn’t take a woman like that even if she were free. Everything I did was for you, Summer… you’re the only one in my heart…” In my previous life, I met such a miserable end. Now, everything would be reversed. Entering the rehearsal studio, everyone was whispering, pointing fingers at us. “I can’t believe it, she’s really that loose…” “Yeah, at such a young age, playing mistress…” “She looks so innocent, but secretly, she’s doing such unspeakable things.” Summer, hearing the whispers,’s eyes flickered with a knowing cunning. She positioned herself protectively in front of me, declaring loudly, “You can’t say such things about my sister! How could she do anything so vulgar?” In my previous life, she acted the same, pretending to be my devoted sister. And that’s precisely why I never suspected them. 5 Luna White, usually my closest friend, pulled me away from Summer, casting a disdainful look at her. “We weren’t talking about Ellie. Some people know exactly what they’re talking about.” Left alone, Summer saw everyone staring at her with hostile eyes, confusion clouding her face. 【Did Ethan not put the letter in? No… he said the plan was foolproof last night.】 Thinking this, her confidence returned. She lifted her chin, a defiant glint in her eyes. Just then, Director Hayes walked in, her face stern. “Summer Woods, my office. Now.” Ethan, who had been lingering outside the door, saw Summer enter the office and rushed over to confront me. “Ellie, if you caused trouble, you should bear it yourself. Why did you let Summer go in there to speak for you? “What about her reputation? Are you always so selfish?” Luna bristled, indignant. “Are you even listening to yourself? Everyone in the Academy knows now that Summer Woods was the one being kept. She’s the one ruining Ellie’s name!”

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1 This time, I defied my parents, refusing their carefully laid plans for a strategic alliance, a marriage to Eleanor Hayes. In my previous life, I had embraced that union, marrying her with an open heart, only to find her affections hopelessly tethered to Julian Thorne, the phantom of her past. He was her “one who got away,” the man she truly loved. She wove a web of deceit around me for decades, and then, on my deathbed, her gentle, caring facade shattered. Her face twisted into a mask of pure fury as she unleashed her venom. “If your family hadn’t used their business dealings to force my parents into marrying me off to you, Julian and I would have been gloriously happy forever!” “Julian’s tragic death, a victim of his own spiraling depression? That’s all your fault!” “Every day I looked at you, I felt nothing but utter disgust. If it weren’t for raising Julian’s son, I would have dragged you with me long ago to atone for what you did to him!” “My child? There was no such thing! I bore Julian’s child!” So, even the boy I had raised as my own, showering him with love for years, wasn’t mine! A consuming, bitter resentment, a searing hatred, clawed at my chest as my eyes finally closed. But then, in the blink of an eye, I was back. Back to the very day my parents first proposed the alliance with the Hayes family. This time, my refusal was immediate, unequivocal. “Mom, Dad, I’m not marrying Eleanor Hayes!” Both my parents looked genuinely stunned, their expressions a mix of surprise and confusion. Father, still processing, asked, “Didn’t you, from childhood, always badger us about marrying that Hayes girl? You swore she was the one!” He was right, of course. Everyone in our social circle knew I’d trailed Eleanor around since we were kids, even proclaiming I’d marry no one but her. In my past life, when our families decided on the alliance, I’d been overjoyed, agreeing without a moment’s hesitation. But I never dreamed Eleanor, who had never voiced any opposition, would come to hate me for it. She resented me for not opposing the union, for forcing her to sacrifice her happiness for her family’s business. She even blamed me for Julian Thorne’s eventual suicide from depression. Her hatred for me was so profound, yet for the sake of our families’ partnership, she dared not show a shred of it. She allowed me to raise a child that had no relation to me, only to deliver that crushing, final blow, leaving me to die consumed by hatred. Reborn, how could I possibly love such an ungrateful, venomous wretch? “Come on, Dad, who hasn’t made those kinds of childish jokes? I’m grown up now. I just don’t think she’s my type. I don’t want to marry her!” My parents exchanged a look. Mother, thoughtful, said, “The senior Hayes’ were still hoping to talk to your father and me about you becoming their son-in-law, to truly cement the bond between our families.” I blurted out, a desperate edge to my voice, “Mom, you didn’t agree, did you? Please tell me you didn’t!” Mother shook her head, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “No, I told them we’d need to ask you first.” Father chimed in, a surprising sense of relief in his tone, “Since our son feels this way, then we’ll drop it. Besides, I always had a gut feeling that Hayes girl didn’t truly care for our Ethan.” Mother nodded vigorously, a visible weight lifting from her shoulders. My parents finally decided they would decline the Hayes’ proposal in the next couple of days. It dawned on me then: my parents hadn’t actually been keen on the marriage in the first place. In my previous life, I was so utterly fixated on Eleanor that I’d completely missed these subtle cues, blinded by my own infatuation. This time, by refusing the alliance, she shouldn’t have anything to hold against me, right? But I hadn’t anticipated that the very evening my parents declined the Hayes’ proposal, Eleanor would call me. “Ethan Vance, what game are you playing?” Her voice was sharp, accusatory. “Eleanor Hayes, what on earth are you doing now?” I retorted, my patience wearing thin. “You know perfectly well!” she snapped back. “I’m asking why you refused the alliance? I don’t have time for your little mind games. If you want to marry me, fine, but don’t make things complicated!” I was somewhat surprised by her brazenness, but a moment later, a cold understanding dawned. At this precise time in the previous life, Mr. Hayes had made a critical business error. The company’s cash flow had dried up, pushing the Hayes family to the brink of bankruptcy. Eleanor later claimed that if Mr. Hayes hadn’t coerced her into sacrificing herself for the family business, she would have abandoned everything and run away with Julian Thorne. It seemed she was, once again, “forced” to try and win me back, her grand act of sacrifice. How utterly absurd. If she truly had the resolve to abandon everything, why would she come chasing after me? I said coldly, the words cutting like ice, “I don’t like you. Why can’t I refuse the alliance? Vance Corporation is perfectly sound; it doesn’t need to be saved by a marriage alliance.” “You don’t like me?! How is that possible!” Her voice shot up, stunned disbelief turning swiftly into raw anger. “And what do you mean by that last part? Are you implying my family isn’t worthy of an alliance with yours?!” She accused me, her voice dripping with venom, “I never thought you’d be so opportunistic!” I stated calmly, my voice flat, “You misunderstand. I simply don’t wish to interfere with your destiny with Mr. Thorne.” Her voice faltered, tinged with panic. “What are you saying? Julian and I are completely innocen—” Her words cut off abruptly. I chuckled, a humorless sound. “I didn’t mention his name, did I? Anyway, I wish you both boundless happiness. Goodbye!” I wished them an eternal entanglement, a life hopelessly chained together, so they’d never bother me again. But the Hayes family didn’t give up. After that, they bothered my parents relentlessly, every few days, trying to persuade them to agree to the alliance. I was beyond annoyed, beyond frustrated. To escape their incessant badgering, I traveled abroad for a month, hoping for peace. The day I returned home, the Hayes family, all three of them, showed up at our doorstep. Over that month, Hayes Corp.’s situation had only worsened. Mr. Hayes had already accumulated massive debts trying to save the company. Without new investment, it was a dead end. From then on, there would be no chance of recovery, only an inescapable abyss of lifelong debt. The three of them entered, their expressions varied, a telling tableau of their desperation. Mr. Hayes looked haggard, his shoulders slumped. Mrs. Hayes was overtly anxious, wringing her hands. Eleanor, however, wore a frigid expression, her eyes blazing with humiliated fury. I looked at Eleanor. She was still the same as she had been at this time in my previous life. Back then, she was always melancholy, shrouded in a dark cloud, often drinking herself into a stupor. Seeing her like that, I’d assumed she was unhappy about the alliance. Though it pained me, I told her I could convince my parents to call it off. But she had consoled me, saying she was willing to marry me, just unhappy that her father would drag our family down for his failing company. I was deeply moved. To make her happy, I convinced my parents to use most of our liquid assets to save Hayes Corp. This caused Vance Corp. to miss out on crucial growth opportunities, allowing the Hayes family to eventually gain an unfair advantage over us. Thinking about it now, her deep sorrow back then, the reason she drank so much, was likely because she couldn’t be with Julian. Mr. Hayes, seeing Eleanor’s stubborn silence, smacked her sharply on the back. “Are you mute?! Say something!” Eleanor still kept her lips pressed tight, a defiant line. She glanced at me, then her gaze flickered away, unable to hold eye contact. Seeing she wouldn’t budge, Mr. Hayes forced a smile, a pathetic, strained grimace. “Oh, this silly girl heard Ethan was coming home today, and she just had to rush over herself. “She and Ethan had some misunderstanding a while back, and she’s been regretting it, but she’s too embarrassed to say anything. So she insisted we come along and make fools of ourselves.” Mr. Hayes chuckled, a hollow sound, but I knew his game: he was merely using his senior status to make it awkward for me to refuse outright. As long as I didn’t explicitly refuse today, they’d have room to maneuver, and would certainly press their advantage later, like a snake following a stick. Mrs. Hayes also forced a smile, equally strained. “Eleanor told us. Julian Thorne is just a casual friend of hers. She saw he was having a hard time and merely looked out for him a bit more. It’s just that Eleanor and Ethan were both hot-headed that day, exchanging sharp words, which led to this misunderstanding.” The implication was clear, accusatory: I hadn’t been calm enough, I shouldn’t have argued with their precious, innocent daughter. With that, Mr. and Mrs. Hayes subtly nudged Eleanor, giving her pointed looks, urging her to play her part. Eleanor hesitated for a long moment, then, as if pulling teeth, she reluctantly began, “Ethan, you truly misun—” I cut her off, my voice sharp. “I understand. You and Julian Thorne are just casual friends, correct?” Mr. Hayes eagerly jumped in, relief flooding his face. “Yes, yes! Exactly!” He visibly relaxed, smiling. “It’s good that the misunderstanding is cleared up. It would be such a waste for two young people to miss out on a wonderful union over something like this.” I feigned shock, my expression a theatrical marvel. “Mr. Hayes, are you misunderstanding? Eleanor and I are also just casual friends! Besides, I’m still young, and I’m not in a rush to get married.” The Hayes family’s faces instantly cycled through a kaleidoscope of emotions—from shock to disbelief, then to utter despair and finally, raw fury. A truly spectacular sight. Eventually, my parents politely ushered the family of three out, not even inviting them to stay for dinner. After they left, Mother still seemed a little uneasy. “Ethan, were you truly sincere about what you just said? You really don’t want to marry Eleanor?” I nodded vigorously, emphatically. “Never more sincere, Mom. I genuinely don’t like Eleanor Hayes at all. You can be one hundred and twenty percent sure! Put all your worries aside!” I found it both amusing and a little frustrating, but I knew my past actions and words had fueled their worry. Thankfully, the Hayes family was on the verge of bankruptcy. Once their empire crumbled, my parents, seeing my unwavering indifference, would surely be completely reassured and drop the matter for good! A few days later, a friend from my circle returned home from overseas. A group of us arranged a gathering to welcome him back, a casual get-together at a trendy downtown spot. During dinner, a friend gasped, looking at his phone, his eyes wide. “Well, that’s certainly… bold.” He then sent the video to the rest of us, sharing it in our group chat. In the video, a man was embracing a woman, pressed against a lamppost on a busy street, passionately kissing her, utterly oblivious to the world. A car with its headlights on drove past, illuminating the scene, and in that instant, I clearly saw the faces of the man and woman. It was Eleanor Hayes and Julian Thorne. I smiled, a cold, knowing curve of my lips, tapping to save the video. This was a good piece of evidence. Perhaps it would come in handy later. That night, after I showered and was about to turn off the lights and get into bed, my phone buzzed. It was a call from Eleanor. Her words were slurred over the phone, thick with alcohol, as if she were heavily intoxicated. “Ethan Vance,” she mumbled, her voice thick, “Julian and I have talked. I’m getting married, and I won’t be seeing him anymore.” I yawned, feigning disinterest. “Congratulations.” She sounded desperate, a frantic edge to her voice. “Ethan Vance, you know what I mean! I’m marrying you!” I said casually, my voice flat, “Eleanor Hayes, I believe I’ve already made myself clear. You and I are just casual friends. I only see you as a casual friend. Who you separate from, or who you marry, has nothing to do with me.” Eleanor sounded exasperated, her voice rising in frustration. “Ethan Vance, I’ve lowered myself enough! Take the easy way out before you push it too far. Be careful, or I might really not marry you, and then you’ll have nowhere to cry!” “Oh, oh, oh,” I drawled, bored. “Are you done? Great. Now please take your noble ‘easy way out’ with you. I don’t want it, thanks. I’m very tired. Goodbye!” With that, I hung up, ending the charade. A few days later was Mr. and Mrs. Hayes’ thirtieth wedding anniversary celebration, a lavish affair. In my past life, Mr. Hayes had announced our families’ alliance on this very day. This time, of course, the Vance and Hayes families would not be uniting. However, judging by that phone call, Eleanor hadn’t given up. The Hayes family might try something at the party, a last-ditch effort. But thankfully, with the video my friend sent me earlier, I was well prepared. On the evening of the banquet, the Hayes family of three waited anxiously at the grand entrance. They looked overjoyed to see us arrive, their smiles strained. Honestly, if we could, our family would rather not have come. But the Hayes family and ours had at least been on good terms before. Now that they weren’t completely bankrupt yet, if we cut ties the moment they fell on hard times, people would inevitably call us heartless. Father, always one for propriety, had also prepared a generous gift, coming to offer his congratulations, a final formality. As soon as we walked in, Mr. Hayes beamed, his face overly jovial. “Mr. Vance, you’re too kind! Your presence is gift enough, why bring presents!” Mrs. Hayes nudged Eleanor, then smiled at me, a calculated sweetness. “Ethan, Eleanor here says she has something private to tell you.” This time, Eleanor wasn’t sneering or annoyed like last time. Instead, she looked at me with a soft, gentle expression, perfectly playing the part. Then Mrs. Hayes turned to my parents. “With us elders here, these young ones might feel awkward discussing personal matters. Let’s go chat somewhere else for a bit.” My parents looked at me, a silent question in their eyes. I gave them a reassuring look, a subtle signal that they shouldn’t worry, I had everything under control. Once my parents and Mr. and Mrs. Hayes had left, Eleanor leaned in, her voice a low, intimate whisper. “Ethan, I’ve missed you so much. “I don’t know why you suddenly became so cold to me, and that huge misunderstanding… the truth is, you’re the one I’ve always loved…” A jolt of pure revulsion went through me. I hastily took two steps back, putting distance between us. “Stop. Who you like or don’t like, I’m simply not interested. “I don’t know what I did or said wrong to make you misunderstand that I would marry you. “But let me say it again, right now, unequivocally: I only feel like a casual friend towards you. If you continue to pester me, if you try to make a scene, then I’ll simply have to find a way to ensure you never appear before me again.” Her right hand clenched tightly at her side, her knuckles white, clearly straining to control the rage simmering beneath her facade. After a long, tense silence, she suddenly laughed, a brittle, humorless sound. “Playing hard to get doesn’t suit you, Ethan Vance. It makes you look childish. “My offer still stands: take the easy way out. Don’t push me. Otherwise, you should know, I don’t need you. I have other options.” I deliberately made a retching sound, a loud, disgusted gag, then, ignoring her horrified, crimson face, turned and walked away. Midway through the banquet, Mr. Hayes took the stage to give a speech, his voice booming. After expressing a few effusive sentiments about his enduring love for Mrs. Hayes, he abruptly changed course, his voice swelling with false pride. “Ladies and gentlemen, I actually have some truly joyous news to announce today!” “My beautiful daughter, Eleanor Hayes, is soon to tie the knot with the distinguished Mr. Ethan Vance!” At his brazen declaration, all eyes in the opulent ballroom swiveled to our family, a collective gasp rippling through the crowd. My parents’ faces immediately darkened, their expressions turning stony. After Eleanor’s phone call that day, the Hayes family hadn’t bothered us again. My parents had assumed the Hayes had finally given up, which was why they had come to the celebration today out of respect for our families’ past relationship. They never expected Mr. Hayes to pull such a blatant, desperate stunt. Eleanor, too, began walking toward me, her smile fixed, a triumphant glint in her eyes, holding out a gleaming ring. “Ethan, we’ve known each other since childhood, growing up together. All these years, I’ve never imagined marrying any man but you. “I told you long ago I’d marry you, and now I’m here to fulfill that promise, to make us truly one. “Marry me, Ethan.”

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After rebirth, my first act was to secretly keep six stunning male companions—relentlessly pursuing intimacy for 999 days behind my elite husband’s back. Why? In my past life, my powerful husband had low fertility. He married me—a famously fertile woman—just to breed an heir. I prayed desperately, but my womb stayed empty. Meanwhile, my “infertile” best friend Serena Hayes married an old tycoon and birthed twins, then triplets in two years. Obsessed with her “blessed womb,” my husband had an affair with her. When I found out, they killed me. In death, I learned the truth: Serena was part of a child-swapping system. Every baby I conceived was transferred to her womb. Her barrenness? Cursed onto me. Now, reborn on my wedding day, I smiled coldly. If Serena wanted endless babies… I’d make sure she got them. 1 “Given your background, marrying into the Sterling family is already quite a leap. I expect you to remember your duty: produce a son, and quickly, one capable of inheriting our legacy.” “Consider this a two-year trial marriage. If you successfully conceive within that period, then, and only then, will we formalize our union at City Hall.” The frigid voice pierced my ears, jolting me back to the present. I looked up to see Brandon Sterling, eyes cold and imperious, gazing down at me. A moment ago, I was trapped, engulfed in the inferno of a burning car, clawing desperately for escape. Yet, in the blink of an eye, I had been reborn. Reborn into this very day: the day my wealthy, privileged husband brought me into his elite world. Seeing me frozen, silent, my best friend, Serena Hayes, clad in her bridesmaid’s gown, quickly prodded me. “Skylar,” Serena chirped, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness, “for someone from your meager background to marry into a prominent family, it’s a blessing you’ve accumulated over a thousand lifetimes! What are you hesitating for?” “Unless,” she added, her tone laced with faux concern, “you’re worried you won’t conceive, and the Sterling family will send you packing during this trial period?” Her mocking voice grated on my ears. I lifted my gaze to meet hers, and saw the barely veiled schadenfreude, the cunning gleam in her eyes, impossible to hide. How absurd! In my past life, I was so utterly consumed by the joy of marrying into wealth—the means to finally afford Grandma’s life-saving surgery—that I never once suspected her, never once saw the viper cloaked as a friend. My family possessed a centuries-old, uncanny legacy of fertility. From my great-great-grandmother onward, the women in my lineage were famed for their prolific pregnancies: multiple births, twins, and triplets were exceptionally common. By my mother’s generation, she had birthed a remarkable seven children—six sons, and I, the sole daughter. Word of my family’s legendary fertility reached Brandon Sterling, a scion of wealth who had just received a devastating diagnosis of low sperm count. He immediately launched a relentless pursuit of me. I, drawn by his persistent charm, and with Grandma’s life hanging by the thread of a hefty hospital bill, joyfully accepted Brandon’s proposal, believing it a fortunate turn of fate. But then, on our wedding day, Brandon’s demeanor abruptly shifted. He presented the cold, calculated demand of a trial marriage. For Grandma’s sake, I swallowed my pride, accepting his humiliating terms. For two grueling years, I relentlessly pursued conception. I endured countless ovulation stimulant injections, swallowing bottle after bottle of folic acid supplements and bitter herbal concoctions. Yet, as the two years vanished, my womb remained stubbornly, agonizingly silent. Brandon, convinced I had swindled him, turned to physical abuse, his frustration manifesting in violent outbursts. It was then that my best friend, Serena Hayes—the very woman once diagnosed with irreversible infertility—after marrying an elderly septuagenarian, inexplicably birthed twins, then triplets, in rapid succession. Serena’s newfound reputation for miraculous fertility and abundant offspring quickly snared Brandon’s attention. They began a sordid affair behind my back, culminating in her conception of an illegitimate child, his child. When I uncovered their treachery, Brandon wasted no time, instantly casting me out of his lavish mansion, severing the vital monthly payments that kept Grandma alive. I pleaded desperately, begging him to consider my two years of futile devotion, to lend me the money that could still save Grandma. But Serena, fearing Brandon might waver, acted with ruthless cruelty: she dispatched men to run me over, leaving me to die a brutal, lonely death. It was only in death that the chilling truth unraveled: Serena Hayes had been bound to a sinister “child-swapping” system. Any life that stirred within my womb, any child I managed to conceive, would be instantly, agonizingly, transferred to her belly. And her barrenness, once her own cruel fate, had been insidiously, irreversibly, thrust upon me. Ultimately, Serena, her womb now miraculously fertile with my stolen children, usurped my place, marrying into the Sterling family and wielding their power to crush my entire family. With chilling malice, she deliberately brought gruesome evidence of my demise to the hospital, parading it before Grandma, triggering a fatal heart attack that left her dying with unseeing, tormented eyes. My six brothers and my parents, seeking justice for me, met brutal, consecutive deaths, one after another. Recalling the litany of horrors from my past life, a primal rage surged through me, a burning desire to tear Serena Hayes limb from limb, to devour her alive. But I knew, with a cold, calculating certainty, that this was not yet the moment to confront Serena head-on. I smiled, a thin, knowing twist of my lips, and instantly agreed to Brandon Sterling’s trial marriage stipulation. “No problem, darling,” I purred, a false sweetness in my voice. “I assure you, I’ll deliver a magnificent heir for the Sterling family within two years.” 2 Brandon eyed me, a flicker of doubt in his gaze. “You really agree?” I nodded, a confident tilt to my chin. “Don’t worry, darling. I have every confidence.” Seeing me so agreeable, so brimming with confidence about conception, Brandon’s tone softened perceptibly. “Skylar, rest assured,” he said, a possessive warmth entering his voice, “if you can give me a son within two years, I’ll take you straight to City Hall and make it official.” With that, Brandon grandly slipped a dazzling, pigeon-egg-sized diamond ring onto my finger. As the officiant’s prompts echoed through the hall, he closed his eyes and leaned in, his lips seeking mine. Meanwhile, Serena Hayes, standing beside me as my bridesmaid, wore not a hint of blessing on her face—only a raw, barely contained, almost manic envy. I subtly cast a sidelong glance at Serena, fuming in the corner, her jaw clenched. A cold, knowing smirk played on my lips, hidden from view. Just as expected, Serena could no longer contain the restless fervor within her. In a few quick strides, she darted forward, her smile saccharine, and deftly separated Brandon and me. She deliberately, yet with feigned innocence, brushed her ample chest against Brandon, practically throwing herself into his arms, her voice a sickly sweet whine. “Oh, Mr. Sterling,” she cooed, her voice cloyingly playful, “why so eager? We haven’t even had the reception fun yet! You can’t just go kissing our bride willy-nilly!” Serena, emboldened by her perceived beauty, brazenly began to overtly seduce him right there in front of me. Alas, Brandon, a seasoned playboy scion, had seen his share of women, countless types. His obsession was singularly focused on procreation. He’d long heard rumors of Serena’s numerous abortions leading to infertility. He held her in utter contempt, utterly uninterested. Brandon forcibly shoved Serena away from him, a harsh, dismissive push. A flicker of wounded surprise crossed Serena’s eyes, quickly masked by resentment. She didn’t blame Brandon. Instead, her venom was instantly, solely, directed at me. Serena, feigning innocent curiosity, turned to me. “Skylar,” she began, a hint of patronizing skepticism in her tone, “is your family’s famous fertility truly so miraculous? Or are you just exaggerating? What if you can’t get pregnant? You’ll be sent back, you know.” Brandon, hearing her insinuation, cast a suspicious glance my way. Serena, too, stared at me, her lips curling into a triumphant, mocking smirk. I didn’t waver, not a single tremor. I simply continued to nod, calmly, confidently. “My family’s legendary fertility has been passed down for five generations,” I stated, my voice unwavering, “and it has never, ever, failed.” “Rest assured,” I added, a chilling sincerity in my tone, “I will absolutely not disappoint you. I’ll deliver a son, and soon!” As I spoke, I deliberately produced a small bag from my purse, right there in front of them. It was filled with pre-prepared ovulation stimulants and fertility-boosting medications. At this sight, Serena’s eyes immediately gleamed with an almost manic avarice. Brandon, equally impatient, eagerly seized my hand, declaring instantly. “Skylar, let’s skip the rest of the wedding formalities,” he urged, his voice thick with anticipation. “Let’s head straight to the bridal suite now! We’ll surely conceive a son tonight!” Serena, too, laughed, a brittle, strained sound, and pulled my hand, practically shoving me towards the bridal suite. “Skylar, hurry, go make babies with Mr. Sterling!” she chirped, a false cheer in her voice. “I’m just dying to hold your child soon!” Watching their undisguised eagerness to exploit me, I let out a silent, chilling scoff. In my past life, Brandon Sterling had pursued me with relentless determination, brought me into his home, all solely to use me as a breeding machine. Even though he knew excessive ovulation stimulant injections were detrimental to health, he still forced me to endure them daily, utterly indifferent to my agonizing pain, the torment that left me feeling like death, even the permanent damage to my ovaries. And Serena Hayes, not only did she exploit that cursed system to snatch everything from me, she orchestrated the gruesome deaths of my entire family. They were a monstrous duo: he, a predatory tiger ravening for my essence; she, a malevolent demon, aiding his cruel feast. Together, they relentlessly drained me of every last drop of my worth, then pushed me to my brutal demise. Reborn into this life, I would ensure they both paid the ultimate, agonizing price for their sins! 3 On our wedding night, Serena, without hesitation, injected me with an overdose of ovulation stimulants. And Brandon, utterly disregarding the agonizing, plummeting ache in my lower abdomen from the excessive dosage, took me ruthlessly, repeatedly, well over a dozen times. Both of them, consumed with feverish anticipation for my womb to blossom with life, showered me with countless traditional herbal concoctions, insisting I “nourish” my body for conception. In my past life, ignorant of Brandon’s critically low sperm count, I truly believed he genuinely desired a child, truly loved the idea of a family. And so, no matter how bitter those medicines tasted, I obediently swallowed every drop. But this time, I poured every last drop of those vile potions directly into a potted plant. Then, I pulled out my phone and summoned six virile, handsome male escorts. In my previous life, I toiled endlessly at home, enduring daily injections and bitter medicines, while Brandon’s parade of outside flings and fleeting lovers never ceased. He spent his days ensnared in a web of various women, only returning to our bed at night, solely for the purpose of procreation. Fortunately, he was quite generous with money, never skimping on funds, utterly indifferent to anything else beyond his singular goal. Thus, in this life, my discreet dalliances with six male escorts remained utterly undetected by him. By day, I lost myself in unbridled passion with the energetic escorts, their bodies intertwined with mine. By night, I offered Brandon only a perfunctory, disinterested physical presence. And I never forgot to needle Serena Hayes with subtle jabs, messaging her, hinting—both overtly and covertly—that I felt I was very likely already pregnant. Sure enough, no sooner had I dropped that tantalizing hint to Serena than she, on the very next day, abruptly married a wealthy, septuagenarian gentleman.

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The annual Royal Selection, held in King’s Landing, sought a suitable bride for Prince Edmund, the King’s heir. In my last life, it was I who claimed victory. Prince Edmund wed me as his Princess Consort. Lady Seraphina, the woman he loved, fell gravely ill, fading away in sorrow. After he ascended the throne, he never crowned me Queen. Instead, a solemn effigy of Seraphina graced the throne. He made me kneel before it for three days and three nights. “Had you not deliberately damaged Seraphina’s lute strings, she would have triumphed. It was your meddling that kept us apart.” “This crown, this throne, was meant for her.” He condemned my father, the Duke of Ravenshield, seizing our lands and condemning him to the gallows, all to quell his Kingly rage. My mother, consumed by grief, beat her head against his coffin until her spirit departed. The House of Blackwood was undone. But in this life, during the Royal Selection, I deliberately injured my wrist, withdrawing from the contest. If Prince Edmund desired a life bound solely to Lady Seraphina, I would grant them their wish. 1 “The victor of the Royal Selection is: Lady Seraphina, daughter of the Lord Chamberlain!” The Grand Adjudicator’s voice boomed across the Great Hall. A murmur rippled through the gathered nobility. “Can you believe it? She won!” “I heard Lady Eleanor Blackwood twisted her wrist. Lady Seraphina was truly blessed by fortune.” “Didn’t the King and Queen favor Lady Eleanor as Prince Edmund’s Princess Consort?” “But it was declared that the victor would be the Princess Consort. Prince Edmund himself set the terms.” Prince Edmund, a radiant smile gracing his features, eagerly grasped Lady Seraphina’s hand and stepped forward. “Father, Mother, this is the consort your son has chosen.” His eyes held an undiluted tenderness, while Seraphina’s cheeks flushed a vibrant crimson, as if about to bleed. Yet, her hand remained clasped tightly in his, never faltering. All eyes turned to me, my wrist still swathed in bandages. A mixture of pity and veiled amusement danced in their gazes, anticipating a spectacle. Even the Queen Consort eyed me, her lips parting as if to speak, then closing. It was widely known that she had intended for me to be the Prince Consort, having even discreetly approached my father, the Duke of Ravenshield, to prevent him from betrothing me elsewhere. Now, a sudden turn of events. The Queen hesitated, then addressed Prince Edmund: “Do you harbor affection for any other lady? Your father is in good spirits today; perhaps, if you speak her name, he might consent to a dual union.” Her gaze flickered to me, a subtle hint that if he spoke my name, the King might command him to take two consorts. But the Queen was mistaken. For I, Lady Eleanor, harbored no desire to wed Prince Edmund again. In my last life, Prince Edmund accused me of breaking Seraphina’s lute strings, ruining her chance at triumph. Yet, such a petty act was beneath me. Had he possessed even a sliver of clarity, had he truly considered my character, he would have known I was incapable of such malice. But his heart had already been seized by the sight of a tearful Seraphina. She had wrenched her hand from his, weeping, “I know Lady Eleanor despises me, but I only wanted a fair chance to win your affection. Why would she deny me even that? Is it simply because her father is the powerful Duke of Ravenshield?” Her words, a poisoned seed, laid the groundwork for my father’s downfall after Edmund’s coronation. Later, I discovered the truth: the ancient melody I had performed during that fateful competition, a lost ballad, had mesmerized even the Maestros of the Royal Conservatory. My performance had caused the Royal Gardens to burst into unnatural bloom, a sign of true artistic mastery. Seraphina, seeing her defeat imminent, had deliberately snapped her own lute strings, feigning a tragic accident to ensure her loss. 2 This life, I would offer her no such opportunity. I chose to feign an accidental injury to my wrist at the Vernal Ball the night before, rendering me unable to compete. Anything to avoid falling into her snare again. If they wished to be bound to one another, I would grant them their singular devotion. I would ensure I remained far, far away. Upon hearing the Queen’s question, Prince Edmund declared with a booming voice, “Mother, Seraphina is the only woman I have ever loved. Now that she has claimed victory, I humbly ask that you seal her as my true Princess Consort.” “My heart’s desire is to be bound to Seraphina alone, for all time.” The Queen sighed, a weary breath escaping her lips. “I have no objection to you naming her your Princess Consort. However, you are my trueborn son and your father’s heir. You cannot have but one consort. You must ensure the succession, provide a thriving line for the Crown. Do you understand?” She looked pointedly at Seraphina, whose eyes remained fixed solely on Prince Edmund. Love, perhaps, grants boundless courage. Seraphina stepped forward, her voice trembling slightly, yet resolute. “Your Majesty, once Prince Edmund and I are wed, I shall strive with all my might to bear many children for the Crown. But Prince Edmund has sworn he will never take another woman.” “Every woman yearns for a singular bond with the man she loves, a life bound to one another alone. Surely, Your Majesty, you yourself cherish such a dream? I humbly implore you, do not grant any other noblewoman as a secondary consort to Prince Edmund.” Silence descended upon the hall, then erupted into a cacophony of varied expressions among the assembled nobles. The faces of several high noblewomen, whose daughters had hoped to become secondary consorts, turned as dark as storm clouds. “Lady Seraphina is bold indeed! Not yet Princess Consort, and already dictating who Prince Edmund may or may not take as a secondary consort!” “Which prince takes but one wife? Especially the King and Queen’s trueborn heir! What is she thinking? Does she wish the Prince to have a meager line?” “Any lady who weds into Prince Edmund’s household now will surely face a harsh future.” “It seems Lady Seraphina intends to monopolize the Prince’s affections entirely.” Prince Edmund, hearing Seraphina’s plea, knew it was ill-advised, yet his protective instinct prevailed. “Please, Mother, grant us this wish.” The Queen closed her eyes for a moment, then waved her hand dismissively. “You may all depart. A royal edict concerning the betrothal will be issued in three days.” All the courtiers filed out, a river of silk and velvet. I had not yet reached the palace gates when a voice called out, “Lady Eleanor!” It was Seraphina. Behind her, a lady-in-waiting carried a tray laden with jewels Prince Edmund had bestowed upon her. Seraphina smiled, approaching me. “My apologies, Lady Eleanor. I never imagined you wouldn’t compete today. I truly thought you would win.” I offered a faint smile. “My congratulations, Lady Seraphina. May your heart’s desire be fulfilled.” Her eyes welled up, glistening. “Will you resent me? I know the Queen favored you. But I love Prince Edmund so deeply, and he promised to wed me. For him, I had to set aside our friendship. Please, don’t hold it against me.” “This pomegranate brooch, Prince Edmund gave it to me. I wish to gift it to you, a token of our sisterly bond. May you soon find a worthy lord and bear many children.” I took the trinket. Before I could speak, a man’s hand snatched the brooch from my grasp. “That was my gift to you! Why would you give it away? It was a blessing for us to have many children after our wedding. How can you be so careless with my intentions?” Seraphina gazed at Prince Edmund, her expression coy and charming. “Your Grace, my sister is distraught at not being chosen. I merely wished to comfort her. You needn’t be so illiberal.” 3 Prince Edmund’s eyes, however, were fixed on me, a mocking glint in their depths. “Distraught? Lady Eleanor, it is my mother who favored you, not I. I hope you understand that. The Queen doubtless valued your father’s influence. But when I ascend to the throne, I shall be King! All will be my vassals, and all will support me, will they not?” “I shall not rely on a woman’s sway to solidify my reign. And I never once said I would wed you.” “In days past, I found our conversations pleasant, and your wit engaging. But I never imagined you harbored such grand ambition, to become my Princess Consort.” I watched them, a duet of self-serving condescension. My patience, however, had worn thin. I took a step back. “Your Grace, my presence at the Royal Selection was merely by royal decree. Every legitimate daughter of a three-star lord in King’s Landing must attend. As for relying on influence to bolster a kingdom, or any talk of you marrying me—let us dispense with such foolishness. It might cause your future Princess Consort undue distress.” “Should she misunderstand, and believe you imply her family is less powerful, how would Lady Seraphina bear the slight?” With that, I turned and departed. Lady Seraphina was naturally suspicious and petty. Her father, the Lord Chamberlain, held one of the least powerful offices among the King’s ministers. Compared to my father, the Duke of Ravenshield, her family’s standing was truly insignificant. Three days later, the royal edict naming Seraphina as Prince Edmund’s Princess Consort was proclaimed. Seraphina immediately arranged a garden party, inviting all the noblewomen of King’s Landing. Who dared refuse, given Prince Edmund’s favor? At the garden party, Seraphina was adorned in shimmering jewels, her hair bedecked with the ornaments Prince Edmund and the Queen had showered upon her. Not yet a Princess Consort, yet she carried herself with the full pomp and circumstance of one. I recalled how, in my last life, she had been admired by Prince Edmund for her understated elegance, her disdain for opulent jewels, praised for her ethereal grace. I wondered if, in this life, Prince Edmund would still remark on her unworldly purity, seeing her now. Seraphina, before all the guests, tightly grasped my hand. “My dear sister, when I wed, would you consider being my Maid of Honor? To accompany me into the royal chapel on my wedding day? With a few dear sisters by my side, I might feel less apprehensive.” Her face wore an expression of pleading, yet her eyes glinted with triumphant amusement. In her mind, she was the undisputed victor, and this was her moment to publicly humiliate me. “As the Princess Consort, who you choose for your Maid of Honor is your prerogative. Who in King’s Landing would dare refuse my future Princess Consort such a courtesy, Lady Eleanor? What say you?” The voice belonged to Prince Edmund, who had just entered. Even for a ladies’ garden party, Prince Edmund had hastened to lend his presence, a testament to his deep affection for her. All eyes were on me, awaiting my reply. If I assented, it would signify my submission to the Princess Consort’s authority. If I refused, I would openly defy Prince Edmund. Prince Edmund brimmed with confidence, and Seraphina radiated smugness. But they had forgotten: my father was the Duke of Ravenshield, master of formidable forces. Aside from the King and Queen, I bowed to no one. I gently, but firmly, disengaged my hand from Seraphina’s. “My apologies, I fear I may not be able to attend your wedding, Your Grace. My father has sent for me, desiring my return home. Our departure is set for the very day of your nuptials with Prince Edmund.” Seraphina stared at me, her eyes brimming with moisture. “Is my sister truly so angry with me, so upset? How could it be such a coincidence that the Duke of Ravenshield just happens to send for you now?” 4 My lady-in-waiting, sensing my cue, answered on my behalf. “My lord Duke’s messengers arrived last night. They bear tidings of a betrothal already arranged for my lady. My lady has been in King’s Landing for half a year now; it is high time she returned home to prepare her trousseau for her nuptials.” At these words, Prince Edmund’s face visibly darkened. “You are returning to the Northern Marches? Your father sent you to King’s Landing not to find a noble husband here, to wed within the capital?” “I know you are displeased that I chose Seraphina. But what if I promised you that, after our wedding, I would take you as a secondary consort?” Seraphina’s face turned ashen. Before she could speak, I interjected, a faint smile on my lips. “What jest is this, Your Grace? Was it not just the other day, in the Great Hall, that you declared to the Queen your desire for a singular bond with Lady Seraphina?” “Moreover, a legitimate daughter of the House of Blackwood would never stoop to being a secondary consort.” Prince Edmund gritted his teeth. “Lady Eleanor, must you always be the Princess Consort? Is this empty title truly so important to you?” I looked at him, genuinely bewildered. “Your Grace, I never expressed a desire to be your Princess Consort. I have simply been away from home for too long, and my parents yearn for my return. I have no kin in King’s Landing. Returning home is only proper. Does Your Grace believe it acceptable to deny someone the right to return to their family?” Prince Edmund’s face grew progressively darker. “What if I refuse? What if I insist on marrying you?” “Then Your Grace will surely be disappointed. Lady Eleanor and I are already betrothed. Does Your Grace intend to abduct my future wife?” I turned, and there, entering the estate, was Sir Kaelen Vance, the Knight Commander. He was clad in rugged travel leathers, his face still bearing the dust of the road, clearly having ridden a thousand miles to reach King’s Landing. He strode in, taking a stand by my side, silently shielding me. Prince Edmund glared at him. “Knight Commander, are you not sworn to the borderlands? How dare you enter King’s Landing without royal summons?” Kaelen merely smiled. “I come by the Duke of Ravenshield’s command, to deliver a vital war report to His Majesty, and to escort Lady Eleanor, my betrothed, back to the Northern Marches.” “His Majesty, I trust, will understand my youthful fervor, that I might seize this duty of delivering dispatches for the sake of escorting my future wife. Coupled with our recent, glorious victory, His Majesty surely will not hold it against me.” He then looked at me, his eyes holding no one else but me. “My Lady Eleanor, this garden party seems exceedingly dull. I know a place just outside the city where the peach blossoms are in full, exquisite bloom. I could take you there; it would be infinitely more beautiful than this confined garden.” I smiled, rising. I curtseyed to Prince Edmund and Seraphina. “I shall take my leave now. I fear I may be long departed by the day of your wedding, so allow me to offer my best wishes for a century of harmony.” With that, I walked towards Sir Kaelen and followed him out of the manor. Prince Edmund rushed after us. “Lady Eleanor, can being a mere Knight Commander’s wife truly compare to being my secondary consort?” “Should I ascend to the throne, I promise you the rank of the most favored Lady of Silverwood. How does that sound?” Kaelen vaulted onto his steed, extending a hand to me. “Do you still recall how to ride?” I smiled, reaching for his hand. “Fortuitously, I haven’t forgotten.” I swung myself onto the saddle, sharing his mount, and we galloped away towards the city gates, leaving Prince Edmund’s desperate words and his despair behind. Prince Edmund’s wedding was a grand affair. On the morning of the ceremony, my carriage was already prepared, ready to depart. Unexpectedly, our procession crossed paths with the bridal procession on the streets of King’s Landing. I had deliberately chosen a route their wedding party would avoid. Yet, Prince Edmund, for some reason, had chosen this very street. Clad in his ceremonial wedding robes, he stood before my carriage, blocking our path. “Eleanor, are you truly leaving?”

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My husband Alexander Lockridge—the city’s top financier—was drugged and slept with a college student. When he sobered, he called me, panicked: “Ali, I was set up. I paid her off—she’ll never contact us again.” I believed him. Six months later, an earthquake hit during his business trip. At the hospital, I found him outside a patient’s room. The doctor said Sophia Bennett was three months pregnant. She’d dug through rubble with bloodied hands to save Alex. Alex gripped my hand, pleading: “Her family died three months ago. She came to me for help. I was drunk—I never thought…” He added quickly: “She’ll never enter our home. Your place is secure.” Suddenly, Sophia rushed out, collapsing at my feet: “Please, let my baby live!” Alex looked at me desperately: “Ali, you’re always reasonable. The child is innocent—” I laughed coldly: “Alexander, choose: divorce or she leaves.” “I won’t divorce you!” His grip tightened. “But I must take responsibility.” Later, Sophia bore twins. The Lockridges celebrated. I slid off my wedding ring and dialed a number: “I accept your offer.” A voice chuckled: “Mrs. Lockridge, a pleasure doing business.” I stood at the door of the hospital room, my fingers clenching involuntarily. Through the half-open crack, I saw Mr. and Mrs. Lockridge each holding a baby, their faces beaming with undisguised joy. Even Alexander, usually so reserved and composed in public, was now gazing at the infant in his arms with a tenderness I’d never witnessed before, a doting smile playing on his lips. How ironic. They looked, in that moment, like a perfectly harmonious family. Alex looked up and saw me, his expression freezing. “Ali, you came back…” I didn’t respond. Mrs. Lockridge cast a cold, sidelong glance in my direction, her voice like shards of ice. “So you did decide to return? Have you had enough of your ‘peaceful’ retreat in the mountains these past six months?” “It’s good that you’re back,” Mr. Lockridge interjected, attempting to smooth things over, though his eyes never left the babies in his arms. “Perfect timing for the babies’ naming ceremony. As Mrs. Lockridge, you should certainly contribute.” Mrs. Lockridge’s expression softened slightly. “The children haven’t been given their official names yet. You and Alex should think of some. Don’t worry, as long as you behave, the position of Mrs. Lockridge will always be yours.” I looked at them, numb, and nodded. “Okay.” As the elder Lockridges left, Alex’s phone rang. He glanced at me, then stepped out to take the call. Only Sophia and I remained in the room. Her complexion was radiant, and even her hair seemed to gleam with meticulous care. Clearly, the Lockridge family had spared no expense on her these past six months. “Sister,” she whispered, her voice timid. “If I’ve done anything wrong, you can hit me, scold me, whatever you want. Just… please don’t argue with Mr. Lockridge anymore. You know he only has eyes for you. You’ve been gone so long, and he’s had your room cleaned every single day.” “Sophia,” I said, my voice cold and flat. “You don’t have to keep up this act. The money he gave you back then was enough to live lavishly for lifetimes. You could have disappeared, gone far away. But you came back, claiming you needed help, and that’s how these children came to be.” I leaned closer, my gaze unwavering. “Sophia, you know exactly what game you’re playing.” Caught off guard, her face flushed, then paled. Suddenly, she snatched one of the babies and thrust it into my arms. The warm, milky scent made my entire body stiffen. But the very next second, the baby slipped from my grasp, falling heavily to the floor with a heart-wrenching scream. Amidst the piercing wails, Alex burst in, shoving me aside with a violent push. I staggered backward, watching him tenderly scoop up the crying infant. He looked at me, his eyes filled with an unsettling blend of emotions. Though he said nothing, his gaze spoke volumes. Sophia, now dissolved in tears, whimpered, “Mr. Lockridge, I only wanted Madam to hold the baby, but she…” 2 Alex’s voice was chilling. “Ali, Sophia is being discharged tomorrow. Since you can’t tolerate the children, you should move to the Westwood Estate for now…” I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood before I finally released it. I hadn’t brought much luggage with me to the retreat anyway; now, it was even simpler. A single suitcase held everything. I sat in the empty, echoing house, from dusk until dawn. Perhaps it was for the best. At least I wouldn’t have to witness their picture-perfect family of four, basking in their fabricated happiness. Memories surged like a tide. Alex and I, childhood sweethearts, married for eight years. We were the city’s most admired power couple. That time, he’d been drugged by a business rival, and it led to a one-night stand with a university student. The moment he came to, he called me, his voice trembling. “Ali, I was set up! I’ve already paid her to keep quiet, she’ll never appear again!” I believed him. But it wasn’t long before this woman, Sophia, reappeared. Her parents had died unexpectedly, and she’d sought out Alex, who was drunk after a business dinner. This was the second time. The first was an accident, but what about the second? Then, Alex went on a business trip to a remote country overseas and was caught in an earthquake. It was Sophia, pregnant, who supposedly dug him out of the rubble with her bare hands. A life debt, compounded by the child in her belly—Alex could no longer shake her off. He knelt before me, weeping uncontrollably. That’s when I laid down my terms. “Alexander, either we divorce.” “Or she leaves.” “I won’t divorce you!” Alex cried, his eyes red-rimmed as he seized my hands. “But I have to take responsibility for her…” He refused to divorce me, yet he also refused to let Sophia go. So, I left, retreating to St. Jude’s for a quiet period of reflection. I stayed there until Sophia gave birth, and Mr. and Mrs. Lockridge insisted I return. I pulled out my phone in the darkness, and sent the message I should have sent long ago. “Let’s divorce.” Less than ten minutes later, I heard urgent footsteps and the sound of the front door being thrown open. Alex rushed in, sweat beading on his forehead. “Ali! I won’t agree to a divorce!” I sat calmly on the sofa, letting out a soft sigh. “Just… let it go, Alex. I’m tired.” “I told you she would never come between us!” His voice trembled with desperation. Just then, his phone rang. Sophia’s tearful voice carried faintly from the receiver. “Mr. Lockridge! The baby fell and was scared, and now has a fever! The doctor says they might have to go to the ICU!” Alex’s expression shifted instantly. He looked at me, then at his phone, before finally uttering with great difficulty, “Ali, I… I have to go see them…” I watched his hurried retreat, his back disappearing in a frantic blur, and then I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. This was my marriage, wasn’t it? Even divorce had to take a backseat to another woman and her children. 3 I curled my lips into a self-deprecating smile. “Go on, then. Your child needs you.” He left in a rush, the faint breeze stirred by his departure brushing past my cheek, as if he had never been there at all. I sat alone in the darkness, tears silently tracing paths down my face. I knew. He might never marry Sophia, but he would be called away, again and again. How much longer could I endure this life if I didn’t divorce him? An entire lifetime? A familiar, gnawing pain twisted in my stomach. I opened my phone. Sophia’s social media feed showed Alex standing vigil by the incubator, day and night. His face in the photos was gaunt, etched with a tension I had never seen directed at me. I contacted a lawyer to draft the divorce papers, then went to my company to process my resignation. The HR manager looked surprised. “Madam, does Mr. Lockridge know you’re leaving?” I offered a faint smile. “He’s a little preoccupied right now.” As I saw the flicker of pity in the HR manager’s eyes, I knew exactly what she was thinking. I returned to the Westwood Estate, a villa we had only occasionally used after our marriage. As I packed my belongings, I stumbled upon a yellowed note. “Ali, I don’t know when you’ll read this. By then, I imagine we’ll have several children. I love you so much. No matter what happens, promise you’ll never leave me.” Tears splattered onto the paper, and a sudden, excruciating pain shot through my stomach. My vision blurred, and I collapsed heavily onto the floor. When I woke again, my phone was ringing, its sound an irritating buzz. “Alice Reed! What exactly do you want?!” Alex’s furious roar erupted from the receiver. He rarely used my full name like that. “Sophia is already trying her best to be careful! How many times have I told you, she won’t affect your position! Why are you sending those malicious texts? Why are you cursing my children?!” I gave a bitter laugh. He didn’t even ask if I did it. He just condemned me. “Are you finished?” I asked calmly. He paused for a few seconds. “The baby’s naming ceremony is next Sunday. You must be there. Please, stop throwing tantrums, okay?” “Okay.” I hung up, gazing out at the night sky. On the day of the naming ceremony, I arrived bare-faced. People cast sympathetic glances my way, while in the center of the ballroom, Sophia, in a crimson gown, leaned against Alex, looking every inch the true hostess. Mrs. Lockridge urged me, “Go hold the baby.” Alex handed me one of the infants, whispering, “Ali, I won’t hold the texts against you. After today, I’ll send Sophia abroad, and both children will be registered under your name. Since you can’t have children, isn’t this a win-win?” His voice was full of pleading, and my heart clenched painfully. Years ago, during an avalanche, I was injured saving him, my uterus severely damaged. He had once defied his parents for me, vowing never to have children of his own. Now, everything had changed. Suddenly, the child in my arms began to cough violently, frothing at the mouth. “What’s wrong with the baby?!” Someone shrieked. 4 Sophia suddenly threw herself forward, her voice piercingly sharp. “Madam! If you want to kill someone, kill me, but don’t harm the baby!” Slap! Mr. Lockridge’s hand came down hard across my face. My vision swam, and I stumbled backward, crashing to the floor. My cheek stung with a fiery pain, and I tasted blood in my mouth. Alex instinctively reached out to steady me. But then the baby in his arms suddenly let out a strangled cry and vomited a large mouthful of blood. The scene instantly descended into chaos. “Mr. Lockridge!” Sophia shrieked, a desperate, guttural sound, as she lunged forward, physically forcing herself between us. “My baby is dying! Please, save our child!” Alex’s hand trembled violently. I watched the tenderness in his eyes drain away, little by little, until he slowly released my hand and turned, scooping up the bleeding child. The hospital corridor was chillingly cold. I stood there like a ghost, the divorce papers I’d prepared slipping from my pocket and fluttering to the floor. Mrs. Lockridge, sharp-eyed, bent down, picked them up, and roughly tossed them back at me. Her perfectly preserved face was twisted with disgust. “How has the Lockridge family ever wronged you all these years, hm? Alex defied us for you, and we tolerated it! Now you’re even harming the children?” Her voice rose, shrill and accusing. “Since you want a divorce so badly, then just get it! Stop dragging your feet and clinging on!” I silently picked up the scattered papers from the floor. Alex emerged from the ICU, his eyes bloodshot. “The baby is stable.” He looked at me, his gaze terrifyingly unfamiliar. “Ali, this time, you’ve truly gone too far.” My hand trembling, I held out the divorce papers. “We… we’re done.” His pupils constricted sharply. “Are you sure?” “I’m tired,” I choked back the tears. “I don’t know what else I might do…” “Fine! Very well!” He snatched the agreement, signed it furiously, and slammed the pen onto the floor. “As you wish!” Back in what used to be our marital home, Martha, our housekeeper, rushed to meet me, her face distraught. “Madam! How…?” She saw my swollen face and soaked clothes, and her voice caught in her throat. I looked around. My piano was gone, our wedding photos had disappeared, and even the cherished decorative pieces I’d collected were nowhere to be seen. Martha wrung her hands, stammering, “Miss Sophia… she often bumped into things while she was pregnant, so Mr. Lockridge had…” The door suddenly opened. Alex walked in, Sophia by his side. Sophia feigned surprise. “Madam, what are you doing here?” Her tone suggested she was the lady of the house. “Where are my things?” My voice trembled as I looked at Alex. Alex scoffed, pulling Sophia closer to his side. “You’re getting a divorce. Why do you care about these things anymore?” Sophia reached out, pretending to take my hand. “Madam, Mr. Lockridge was just worried I might get hurt while I was pregnant…” “Don’t touch me!” I snapped, violently shaking her hand away. She gasped, stumbling backward. Alex quickly caught her, his voice tight with concern. “Are you alright?” I watched their intimate exchange, then turned abruptly and walked away. Even though I heard Alex calling my name behind me, I didn’t look back. I didn’t want them to see me, tear-streaked and humiliated. Outside, the rain poured down in sheets. I walked for what felt like an eternity, until I was cornered by a few thugs in a dark alley. “Mrs. Lockridge, is it? Someone paid us to teach you a lesson.” A scarred man leered, advancing on me. “The finance titan’s wife, you’re certainly attractive. A bit small-chested, but that face is young enough!” I instinctively dialed Alex’s number. From the other end, I heard his gentle cooing voice. “Sophia, if your head hurts, just go to sleep.” “Alex! Help…” “I don’t want to talk to you right now.” The call was mercilessly cut off. When I tried again, his phone was off. Icy rainwater mixed with tears, flowing into the corners of my mouth, salty and bitter. “No one’s coming here. Be a good girl and have some fun with us!” The thug’s grubby hand reached for my collar, his rough fingers scraping across my collarbone. I squeezed my eyes shut, my nails digging deep into my palms.

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Our family was so poor, we often went without proper meals. Yet, a random lottery ticket I bought struck for five million dollars. My brother, eyes blazing with a wild fury, lunged, snatching the ticket, intent on tearing it. My father, who had always doted on me, raised a kitchen knife, its blade pressed cold against my throat. “If you don’t shred that worthless paper, I’ll hack off your hand right here and now.” Even my mother, confined to her sickbed, dependent on funds for her very life, struggled to rise, her frail body trembling as she cried out in terror, “My daughter, you cannot claim that prize!” To stop me, my family bound me in the basement, then released a ravenous wolf-hybrid into the darkness. Ultimately, I was torn apart and killed by that savage beast. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back on the very day I won the lottery. 1 My brother, holding two plain buns, offered them to me with a wide smile. “Starlight, once our family has coin, I’ll take you to the best steakhouse for your favorite prime rib.” He paused, his gaze bright. “By the way, did your lottery ticket win anything?” Hearing my brother’s eager voice, I jolted back to reality. The familiar lottery ticket, clutched in my hand, confirmed it. I had been reborn. Back to the day I won the lottery. In my past life. I occasionally bought lottery tickets, and my entire family hoped one day I would win big, and we could finally know comfort. Our family was destitute. I had already dropped out of school because we couldn’t afford the tuition. My brother was on the verge of marriage, but if we didn’t scrape together enough for a down payment soon, his sweetheart would abandon him. My father, during his security guard shift, accidentally damaged a wealthy client’s luxury coach, and now owed a colossal sum in damages. And my mother was suffering from kidney failure, waiting for money to extend her fragile life. Basic sustenance was a daily struggle. Every meal, we counted each grain of rice before it went into the pot. Yesterday, I had dreamt of a set of lottery numbers. The moment I woke, I rushed to the corner store to buy a ticket. After the drawing, I double-checked, then triple-checked, confirming I had won the grand prize. Thrilled, I raced to the kitchen, where my brother was boiling water for plain gruel, and blurted out the news. He took the ticket, his eyes fixing on the numbers. His smile froze, replaced by an expression of pure terror. Without a word, he lunged to tear the ticket. I snatched it back swiftly, urgently pleading: “Brother, once we claim the prize, our family will be rich! You can buy a house and wed your sweetheart, Mother will have money for her treatments, and I can finally return to the academy! This is a lifeline the heavens have sent us!” But my brother seemed deaf to my words, wrestling with me, his eyes wild. In the struggle, desperate, I bit his hand. He cried out in pain, staggering back a few steps. His eyes were bloodshot, his face contorted, as he roared at me, his voice raw. “Starlight, you cannot claim that prize! Tear it up now!” His terrifying demeanor left me frozen, trembling. Just then, my father returned. He saw me cornered by my brother, and without a word, slapped the back of my brother’s head. “You scoundrel! How dare you bully your sister!” My brother’s hand trembled as he pointed at me, his voice a desperate, desperate whisper. “She dreamt of a set of numbers, and the ticket she bought won five million!” My father’s face, etched with fury moments before, instantly contorted into pure terror. His eyes widened. Like a madman, he lunged into the kitchen, seized a meat cleaver, and charged at me. “Shred that winning ticket now, or I’ll hack you to pieces!” The cleaver was poised to fall. Thankfully, Mother rushed in, shielding me. “Have you gone mad? To threaten our precious daughter with a cleaver!” Father scoffed, a chilling sound. “Starlight won the lottery.” “So what? Starlight has always been lucky, often winning five or ten dollars.” “It’s the grand prize. Five million.” Mother, who had been shielding me moments before, turned deathly pale, as if she had seen a specter. She shoved me from her embrace, shaking her head frantically. “No, you cannot.” It was then I realized my entire family wished to prevent me from claiming the prize. I frantically waved my hands, trying to explain. “Father, Mother, this money isn’t just mine! With this, Brother can start his life, Father won’t have to hide from creditors, Mother can receive her treatments and surgery, and I can return to the academy! This is a lifeline from the heavens!” But my parents ignored me, their brows furrowed as they exchanged panicked glances. Then, Father spoke. “We cannot let this girl leave the house again.” Mother’s face darkened. “I have a solution. We’ll lock her in the cellar, with the wolf-hybrid.” I stood stunned, my limbs numb, unable to believe what I had just heard. I could not fathom why they had transformed so utterly upon learning of my five-million-dollar win. We were desperate for money; this heaven-sent fortune should have been the greatest joy. Why had it turned into this nightmare? Before I could grasp it, my parents dragged me towards the cellar. In a panic, I twisted, trying to escape, but my brother seized me. I wept, pleading for them to release me, even offering to give them the ticket, to let them claim the prize themselves, if they did not trust me. Yet, they were deaf to my pleas, forcing me into the dark, foul-smelling cellar. They denied me food and water, then released a starving wolf-hybrid into the darkness. My entire family knew I had been bitten by a stray dog as a child and was terrified of them. The moment I saw the wolf-hybrid, I was so petrified I nearly collapsed. I hammered frantically on the door, screaming, begging them to let me out. But no matter how I cried, there was no response. The wolf-hybrid lunged at me, tearing a chunk of flesh from my thigh. The metallic tang of blood filled my nostrils, and I succumbed to the pain, falling into unconsciousness. After a night of terror, my parents and brother came to the cellar to see me. My mother smiled, asking, “Starlight, are you hungry? Mother has steamed some buns for you.” I scoffed, unable to comprehend how she could act as if nothing had happened. I screamed, mad with grief and rage, “Why? Why are you doing this to me?” The smile vanished from my mother’s face, replaced by a cold, impassive expression. My father’s face darkened too, his eyes filled with disgust. Then, he kicked me hard in the chest. “Ungrateful mongrel.” The pain made it difficult to even breathe. My mother’s eyes swirled with a chilling malice, a sinister smile twisting her lips. “Since Starlight doesn’t wish for buns, let’s bring in a few more wolf-hybrids to play with her.” “These beasts are specially trained; they know how to ‘entertain’ disobedient brats.” Then, they released several more wolf-hybrids, trapping me. They tore at me savagely. Both my arms were ripped from my body. In less than a day, I drew my last breath amidst unimaginable agony. To my dying moment, I did not understand why they all wished to kill me upon learning of my five-million-dollar win. The terror of my past life surged, and I gripped the lottery ticket tightly, taking a deep, shuddering breath. This time, I vowed, I would uncover the truth. This time, I did not tell my brother about the win. I thought, as long as my brother didn’t know about the five million, nothing bad would happen. But to my surprise, my brother smiled, asking, “Starlight, I saw you bought a lottery ticket yesterday. Did it win?” My heart clenched. I forced a smile. “No, of course not. It’s not that easy to win.” “You’re always so careless. Give the ticket to your brother, I’ll check it for you. Maybe you misread it.” “No need, really. I just checked it number by number. It really didn’t win. Don’t you believe me, brother?” “No, it’s just, what if it did win, and you made a mistake? Then our family would lose a huge opportunity, wouldn’t we? There’s no harm in me taking another look.” I deliberately put the ticket into my pocket. “Brother, you just don’t believe me. I’m not going to show you.” My brother, thinking I was merely pouting playfully, laughed and patted my head, then handed me the bun. “Alright, if you don’t want to show me, don’t. Are you hungry? Eat up.” I took the bun and walked out, casually saying, “The weather’s nice, I’m going out for some fresh air.” I decided to leave the house first, to calm my panicked heart. But as I turned into the alleyway, my heart suddenly constricted, and the lottery ticket in my pocket was gone! My blood ran cold. I immediately spun around and sprinted back. As I caught sight of our front door in the distance, I saw my brother, his face ashen, frozen in the doorway. The lottery ticket, which should have been in my pocket, was now in his hand. He raised his hand, poised to tear it. I charged forward, snatched the ticket, and bolted. I heard him roar behind me, “Starlight, you cannot claim that prize!” Until my death in my last life, I never understood why my brother, who had doted on me since childhood, would instantly transform into a stranger, filled with such malice, upon learning of my great win. His eyes held a malevolence I had never witnessed. My brother chased me desperately. I was no match for his stamina, and he soon caught up. I trembled, screaming for help. “Help! My brother is trying to kill me!” The alley was filled with familiar neighbors. Hearing my cries, they emerged to watch the commotion. My brother clearly hadn’t expected me to react this way. Seeing no escape, I turned and knelt before him, weeping as I asked, “Brother, we were about to live a good life. Why would you try to tear up that ticket?” My brother gritted his teeth, muttering lowly, “Shut up, you wretched brat!” He tried to drag me away, but just then, onlookers from the neighborhood swiftly approached. Old Man Miller from next door forcefully pulled him away from me. “Why are you hitting your own sister?” Other neighbors also began to murmur, “We heard you shouting about a lottery win. That’s wonderful news! Why resort to violence?” “Even if she’s your own sister, you can’t hit her! Assault is against the law! If you try that again, we’ll call the Constabulary!” My brother’s breathing was ragged, veins bulging in his neck, as he glared at me, his eyes full of fury. But with everyone watching, he could do nothing. Suddenly, he smiled, looking behind me. I turned, confused, and saw Father approaching. Father had seen my brother and me surrounded by the crowd from afar, his brow furrowed. No doubt, he knew something was amiss. As Father drew closer, my body tensed, and my nails dug deep into my palms. The neighbors began to complain to Father, telling him my brother had laid hands on me. Father, immediately enraged, raised his hand to strike my brother’s face. Just as the blow was about to land, my brother yelled, “Starlight won a five-million-dollar grand prize!” “That’s not true! Brother is mistaken!” My eyes welled up, my voice trembling with urgency. “It’s the absolute truth! I even took a picture of the ticket!” My brother’s voice was agitated as he eagerly shoved his scrying device in front of Father. Father’s gaze fell upon the screen, his eyes trembling slightly, then he stared fixedly at the image, frozen in place. I nervously called out, “Father…” When he looked at me again, Father’s eyes were bloodshot. He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. “You beast! Your brother told you to tear up the ticket, why did you not obey!” My heart shattered, yet I gritted my teeth and argued, “Our family desperately needs the money! Mother’s illness needs treatment, you need money to repay your debts, brother wants to marry, and I want to return to the academy!” “You ungrateful, worthless wretch! Still dare to talk back to me!” Father charged at me, pressing my head violently against the wall with one hand, while the other reached for my pocket. Just then, Mother rushed over, shoving Father away and shielding me. “What are you doing? Starlight’s forehead is bleeding!” Mother roared at Father. But Father wasn’t angry, merely sneering, “You care for her, but this ungrateful wretch doesn’t deserve to be our child.” At Father’s words, the neighbors were shocked. Everyone knew that Father doted on me, his daughter, more than anyone else – holding me in his mouth for fear of melting, in his palm for fear of dropping. No one could believe he would speak of his own daughter in such a way. Mother, clutching her chest in anger, demanded, “What exactly happened?” Brother handed her his scrying device. I frantically blocked Mother, looking at her with pleading eyes. “Mother, don’t look. Don’t believe Father and Brother.” I knew that if Mother saw the device, and learned of my grand prize, she would immediately disown me. Mother pulled me into her embrace, gently soothing me. “Don’t worry, it must be some misunderstanding from your father and brother, these two brutes. Once Mother clarifies it, everything will be fine.” I shook my head desperately. “No, Mother, don’t believe them. If you believe what they say, you won’t love me anymore.” “Starlight, rest assured, no matter what happens, I will stand by you. Mother is the one who loves you most in this world.” She looked at me gently, trying to reassure me. Just then, Father, impatient, shouted at Mother, “She won a five-million-dollar grand prize! The ticket is in her pocket!” Hearing Father’s words, Mother’s face suddenly changed. Her once gentle features twisted into a grimace, a chilling malice flickering in her eyes, making me tremble uncontrollably. Her face pale, she forced a stiff, bitter smile as she looked at me. Unlike Father and Brother’s agitation, Mother’s unnatural calm sent shivers down my spine, chilling me to the bone. Her voice was cold. “This is good news, Starlight. Come, let’s go home and celebrate.” But there was no joy in her words, no smile on her face, and the hand she extended towards me trembled slightly. She was clearly struggling, desperately suppressing her emotions. “No, I don’t want to go home.” I hastily stood, stumbling backward into the crowd. Mother’s brow furrowed into a dark cloud, her eyes filled with malice and cruelty, as she coldly demanded, “Starlight, what are you doing? It’s almost dark, where are you going if not home?” Seeing Father and Mother about to grab me, I quickly seized a neighbor, begging, my voice choked with tears. “Please, save me! I cannot go back with them, they will kill me!” The neighbors exchanged bewildered glances, their faces full of confusion. Everyone knew that our family had always doted on me, their daughter. Even if I had made a mistake, parental discipline was understandable, and outsiders truly could not interfere. Just as everyone hesitated, Old Grannie Liu stepped forward. “This child seems to have something troubling her. Don’t force her.” “Yes, Starlight is usually such a sensible child. Speak calmly, don’t use force. Look how terrified the child is.” But Father and Mother seemed blinded by rage, completely deaf to any dissuasion. Their faces contorted, they advanced on me. “Starlight, are you ill? Don’t speak nonsense here!” “Hurry and come home with us! Don’t shame us here!” Before they finished speaking, Father and Brother forcibly grabbed me. Seeing this, Old Grannie Liu quickly stepped in front of me. “Don’t be so rough with the child! What if you terrify her beyond repair!” “I’m disciplining my own daughter, it’s none of your business!” Father roared at Old Grannie Liu, his eyes red. Old Grannie Liu, being elderly, could not stop my young and strong brother. I felt my wrist gripped tightly, and I was forcibly dragged away, the rough ground scraping my knees, a burning pain. Even the kindest neighbors would not rashly contend with my parents for me. Just then, a pair of hands blocked my brother’s path. “Who gave you the right to drag a young girl like this!” Hearing the sharp rebuke, my brother released his grip. It was the Constabulary. A neighbor had summoned them. Seeing the officers, Mother quickly explained, “Officers, this is our daughter. It’s getting late, and she refuses to come home. We were worried for her safety, so we were trying to bring her back.” The officers looked at me. I immediately retorted loudly, “That’s not true! I won a grand prize, and they want to take me back and imprison me!” The three figures behind me froze, their expressions indescribably eerie. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask the neighbors how abnormally my family reacted upon learning of my win.” The officers questioned the crowd, and the neighbors corroborated, confirming my family’s strange behavior. Upon receiving confirmation, an officer, his expression stern, questioned my family. “Why are you preventing the child from claiming her prize? Are you worried she’ll keep the winnings for herself? But the child has already said the money is for the whole family.” My parents, hearing this, scoffed disdainfully. “We don’t care about any winnings, we just want to take our daughter home.” “Unlawful detention of another’s person is a crime,” the officer’s voice grew increasingly serious. Yet, they maintained an air of indifference. My heart racing, I tugged at the officer’s sleeve. “I just want to know why they would rather break the law than let me claim the prize, why they insist on locking me up?” Under the officers’ stern questioning, Father reluctantly handed over his scrying device, his movements full of resistance. When I saw the content on the screen, I finally understood why they wouldn’t let me claim the prize.

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1 The day Julian Blackwood rode into Veridia marked the day of my funeral. At the mouth of Everglen Lane, our two processions, one triumphant, one somber, collided. From afar, I saw the young man I had waited five years for. He had finally returned. He had returned alive. In that moment, I almost forgot I was merely a spirit, an ethereal whisper of my former self. I yearned to rush through the mourning crowd and reach him. Behind me, I heard the frantic pleas of our family’s butler. “Your Grace, we’ve made a terrible mistake! We didn’t know His Majesty would pass this way today!” Phoenix Boulevard led directly to the Royal Citadel, yet Julian’s retinue had inexplicably turned into Everglen Lane. “Does His Majesty need to specially notify you which road he chooses to travel?” “N-no, I wouldn’t dare…” Thwack! A heavy blow struck someone’s spine. “To obstruct His Majesty’s sacred procession with a coffin! You deserve to die!” I rushed back, only to see several City Guards swinging their sword scabbards, lashing out at my family. My father, Lord Shaw, was forced to his knees in front, his eyes glazed over, devoid of all light. The scabbards struck him repeatedly, but his expression remained unchanged. It was as if only an empty shell remained. He had been like this so often since I passed. “Father!” I rushed to embrace him, attempting to shield him from their brutality, but the scabbards passed through my spectral form again and again. “What’s happening here?” The procession ahead paused. Julian, from his mount, suddenly looked our way. 2 The people blocking his path dropped to their knees in unison, and a coffin was swiftly exposed to their view. My family held their breath, their heads bowed even lower, terrified that Julian might recognize my father. Five years ago, the Blackwood family’s Queen Consort, Julian’s mother, was implicated in a plot of treason. Julian, as her son, was stripped of his titles by imperial decree and exiled, reduced to a commoner. It was at his lowest point that I betrayed our engagement, turning instead to marry his rival, Lord Frederick. I still remember it vividly. He knelt at the gates of Shaw Manor, and my father and brothers “rewarded” him with a brutal beating. Yet, he refused to give up, dragging his bloody wounds, rejecting any medical aid, insisting I give him an answer. That day, snow fell heavily, and the wind howled. His knees, already injured from saving me once, were battered. Our family physician had warned that if he continued to kneel, he might lose the use of his legs entirely. I picked up a basin of icy water and poured it over his head. “This,” I said, my voice cutting through the wind, “is my answer.” He looked up at me, his eyes like two dark, bottomless abysses. “Fine. I understand.” “Evelyn Shaw, I hope you never regret this!” He rose shakily, his back staggering, nearly falling several times. My nails dug into my palms, but I felt no pain. “Good! I’ll wait for you! I’ll wait for you to return and exact your revenge! Just don’t you dare die out there!” Those were the last words I spoke to him. Almost instantly, his stumbling figure straightened, like a resilient fir tree in the snow. He turned his cold gaze back, his voice slicing through the air: “This day’s humiliation will be repaid! I await the day you kneel and beg me!” 3 Everyone knew the story. Now, he had returned… Everyone said Julian’s first target upon entering the capital would be the Shaw family. He sat high on his horse, looking down on the ants before him with the disdain of a king. My family dared not even breathe, until his gaze settled on my father for one, two… long seconds. My heart felt as if it were gripped by an unseen hand. I feared he would recognize Father and condemn him on the spot. Just then, the curtain of his royal carriage swayed, and a delicate hand emerged. “Julian, why the delay?” A woman’s voice, like a nightingale’s song, drifted out. My thoughts momentarily blurred, and I saw Julian turn, a flicker of tenderness gracing his stern face. “Are you tired, my dear? We’ll be at the Royal Palace soon, just a little longer.” That warmth, that tenderness, he had finally given it to someone else. I instinctively pressed a hand to my chest. Here, it seemed, it no longer hurt. “The common folk have suffered enough. Don’t make it harder for them.” Julian spoke with an air of magnanimity, then raised a hand, and his procession moved forward towards the Royal Palace. The Shaw family’s servants breathed a collective sigh of relief, grateful he hadn’t recognized my father. But in the end, my coffin still couldn’t be transported for burial. At the city gates, the City Guard once again blocked us. Their reason: fear that the Emperor’s enemies might use the opportunity to flee the city. When we returned to Shaw Manor, the white funeral banners had been torn down, the mourning hall desecrated. A commanding officer warned us, his voice laced with sneering amusement: “With the new Emperor’s ascension, all funeral observances are suspended. Of course, if you wish to bury her hastily, right here on your grounds, no one will stop you.” The eldest daughter of the Grand Chancellor’s House, once Lady Frederick—how could she be buried like a pauper? This was an insult! Even the servants understood that someone was deliberately targeting the Shaw family, targeting me. But Father seemed oblivious. He merely patted my coffin, trying to soothe me. “Evelyn, don’t be afraid. Father is here. No one can humiliate you!” The City Guard captain scoffed dismissively and left. I leaned against my father’s shoulder, a ghost weeping silently. “I’m sorry, Father. I’ve been an unfilial daughter…” 4 I still stole into the Royal Palace, seeking the man I had waited five years for. The Imperial City glowed with a thousand lights. My spirit passed unhindered through the Royal Guards, over towering palace gates, until I found the one I longed to see. In The Radiant Hall, Julian stood tall and elegant, gazing at the moon through the window. A wind chime by the window swayed, its clear, delicate sound ringing through the air. “He still kept that wind chime…” My lips curved into an unconscious smile. “That wind chime is truly beautiful.” A woman in palace attire slowly approached. I recognized the voice; she was the woman Julian had brought back with him. Her name was Sylvie, and she had been Julian’s sole companion these past five years. “You like it?” Julian turned, a gentle smile on his face. Sylvie nodded. Julian casually plucked the wind chime from its hook and offered it to her. The woman looked overwhelmed with delight. “Are you sure?” Julian’s smile was tender. “It’s just a trinket.” My heart clenched violently, the pain so sharp it made my very soul tremble. That day, returning from the Royal Palace, I felt my spirit grow significantly fainter, as if it truly was on the verge of dissipating. I remembered those final days, when the pain had become unbearable. Father had stopped my life-sustaining herbal concoctions, holding my hand and saying, “Evelyn, if it hurts too much, just sleep. Once you’re asleep, it won’t hurt anymore.” That day, Father smiled at me more gently than he ever had before. But a burning liquid fell on my hand—his tears. No father willingly sends his own daughter on her way. That day, I watched as all his hair turned white… I think I had an obsession with Julian. I held on for five years, just to see him win. I just wanted to see him one last time. In a pain that seeped into my very bones, I held on for a long time, but in the end, I couldn’t live to see him. But now, I had seen him, and I should be content. For my last moments, I only wanted to stay with my father. 5 Julian’s official coronation as Emperor took place on his third day in Veridia, sparking three days of national celebration. “Just three more days, just three more days…” Father stroked my coffin with a look of profound relief, as if the end of his ordeal was finally in sight. He likely believed that in three days, I would finally be laid to rest. But Shaw Manor’s supply of ice was gone. In the scorching summer heat, Father couldn’t bear the thought of my body decaying in the house. Our butler reported that he had searched the entire city, but no one was willing to sell a single block of ice to the Shaw family. Driven by desperation, Father rallied his spirits and went to seek out his most accomplished student, Sir Arthur, now a high-ranking minister. Sir Arthur had come from humble beginnings, unable even to afford schooling in his youth. He had often secretly eavesdropped on lessons from outside the academy, getting caught and beaten several times. Father had happened upon him once, saving him from a beating, and had supported him on his path to success ever since. It was the first time Father had ever had to ask a favor of a student. Sir Arthur ordered all the ice from his icehouse to be brought out. A rare look of satisfaction touched Father’s face, but the next second, Sir Arthur raised a hand, and his attendants pushed all the ice into a pond, leaving not a single block. Sir Arthur then knelt, bowing deeply. His posture was as firm and unyielding as it had been when Father first helped him. Father’s parched lips tightened, but he didn’t utter a single word of reproach. As he turned to leave, his figure seemed to stoop a little more. “Master!” Sir Arthur scrambled forward a few steps on his knees, his eyes red-rimmed. Father looked back and smiled faintly, waving a hand. “Serve the realm well. Don’t forget your aspiration to speak for the people.” Sir Arthur bowed again. Returning home, Father retrieved his most treasured chest. These past few years, spent establishing connections and building influence, almost all of our family’s valuables had been given away. Only a few precious calligraphies and paintings remained, which Father had always been reluctant to part with. Father took out all the artworks and went to his old rival, Lord Griffith, the Chancellor of the Grand Secretariat. “One painting, one day of ice. Pick whatever you like.” But the Chancellor only chose one painting. For the first time, Father lost his composure before his rival. “That ‘Galloping Horses’ painting, and the ‘Cold Cicada’ painting—haven’t you always wanted them?” Lord Griffith watched him silently. Father finally sighed in defeat, took his ice, and left. Lord Griffith stood on the veranda, his voice carrying after him: “What cannot be kept will not be kept, old Shaw. The living are more important!” Father paused, a myriad of emotions swirling within him. “My family lived honorably and will die gloriously. Why should we be forced to bury her in secret, like a common criminal?” Lord Griffith cursed under his breath, “Old scholar,” but in the end, could only shake his head helplessly. “Father, I’m so sorry…” I watched my father’s back, bent under the weight of his troubles, my eyes reddening, but not a single tear could fall. When Father returned with a cart of ice, two more carts of ice arrived. The butler from Lord Griffith’s estate bowed deeply to Father, then turned and left. Father smiled, his eyes red-rimmed with emotion. Many had benefited from the Shaw family’s kindness, but in the end, only this old rival had been willing to offer aid when the Shaw family was broken and ruined. 6 On the second day of his reign, Julian Blackwood hosted a grand Royal Banquet, specifically decreeing that all members of the royal family must attend, especially Lord and Lady Frederick. Few knew of my passing. Even within the royal family, some still believed I was Lady Frederick, eager to witness my downfall. I worried for Julian’s safety and entered the palace once more. I watched as Julian and Sylvie sat side-by-side at the head table, their imperial robes magnificent and perfectly matched. This scene, I had envisioned countless times over the past five years. Yet, in the end, it wasn’t me who sat beside him. Lord Frederick arrived late, with his new Lady Frederick in tow. Julian’s gaze immediately fixated on him. “My dear cousin, long time no see.” Julian’s voice was as gentle as a spring breeze, yet almost everyone present understood he was about to settle old scores with Lord Frederick, especially the infamous betrayal of his engagement. Cold sweat trickled down Lord Frederick’s forehead. He hastily bowed. “I wouldn’t dare presume to trouble Your Majesty with my trivial affairs.” Julian’s gaze deliberately fell on the new Lady Frederick. “My cousin’s luck with women is truly enviable. Another new face, I see?” This time, Lord Frederick nearly collapsed to his knees. A man’s honor, especially a betrayal of engagement—what man could swallow such an insult? Lord Frederick frantically wiped a hand across his sweaty brow. “Your Majesty jests. Truth be told, I was manipulated by Evelyn Shaw into marrying her. Thankfully, Your Majesty conquered Veridia, and the Shaw family lost their influence. Only then could I escape their control. That vile woman, she deliberately sought to ruin our brotherly bond. She deserves a thousand cuts, to be torn limb from limb…” CRACK! The sharp sound of a shattered wine glass made Lord Frederick choke, and the entire palace fell silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Julian nonchalantly tossed the broken goblet from his hand, his expression still as mild as a spring breeze. “This goblet is truly fragile, crumbling at a mere touch. Bring me silver chalices instead.” Lord Frederick involuntarily shivered. I, meanwhile, felt a flicker of relief as I watched Julian take up the silver chalice. But as Lord Frederick and his new Lady Frederick came to offer a toast, I watched Lord Frederick’s every move, terrified he might try to tamper with the wine, just as he had five years ago. Thankfully, this time, without the support of the old regime, he didn’t dare act recklessly.

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