Author: Momo Chan

My boyfriend’s third bankruptcy hit without warning. Loan sharks, demanding ten million dollars, blockaded our doorstep. Trapped by hulking figures in the entryway, I inadvertently glimpsed his tablet. A group chat log was open: “Think she can actually pay back ten mil?” “If not, she can sell herself. Women make money fast.” “Still, Caleb’s the real champ. Got Miss Kingsley on one arm, the flower girl wrapped around his little finger with the other.” Tears welled, blurring my vision. I remembered selling Grandma’s old house for him, emptying Mom’s savings—her dowry—for him. My hand trembled as I set the tablet down. I dialed my billionaire father: “You just want me to inherit the family business and marry your protégé, right? Fine. I’ll do it. Send someone to pick me up in three days.” I hung up. Caleb Hawk pushed the door open, a signed promissory note dangling in his hand. “Ellie, I’m so sorry. I owe another ten million…” The “confusion” in his eyes, which once twisted my gut with sympathy, now struck me as a cruel joke. I stared at the watch on his wrist—a Patek Philippe, listed at $160 million in a magazine. He wore a $160 million watch, feigning poverty over a ten-million-dollar debt, while I, penniless, had contemplated seeking out loan sharks for him. He noticed my gaze, quickly tucking the watch into his sleeve. “It’s just a fake. When I have money…” Before he could finish, another message popped up on the tablet: “Caleb, what’s she selling this time? Her house or her body?” “If it’s her body, I’ll book the first night!” Obscenities flooded the screen. In our three years together, I’d bailed him out twice: The first time, I sold Grandma’s house; he promised to give me a proper home. The second time, I emptied my dowry; he knelt, swearing he’d marry me. Only now did I realize those “promises” were nothing but elaborate deceptions. Caleb glanced at the messages, frowning as he typed a reply in the group chat: “Buzz off, all of you! Just wait for the show!” Then he clung to me, pulling me into a hug. “Ellie, this is the last time. Once it’s paid off, I’ll marry you.” The “sincerity” on his face made me laugh—what made me so special, that a rich playboy would go to such lengths to deceive me, even using marriage as a bargaining chip? I pushed him away. “Caleb, I’m out of money.” He froze, then his eyes widened in anger. “So you think I’m a loser too? I knew I misjudged you!” He slammed the door and left. This was his go-to tactic, his weapon to break my will. But I simply blocked all his contacts. I picked up the promissory note—no fingerprints, a clumsy forgery. I’d fallen for such an obvious fake twice. I called the real estate agent. “The flower shop on Main Street. Please help me sublease it.” That shop, I’d opened it to support him. Now, I was leaving it behind. Packing my bags, I surveyed the “surprises” in our rented apartment—greeting cards thrown out by bakeries, pebbles picked from the street, paper rings he’d folded. Every time he’d given them to me, he’d feigned surprise, as if they were precious finds. Only now did I understand: these were mere props, casually acquired, their contents likely forgotten by him even as he presented them. Sunlight streamed through the window onto the empty floor. I took one last look at this “home” filled with lies, then pulled my suitcase toward the door. Three days later, my father’s car pulled up exactly on time. My phone buzzed frantically with Caleb Hawk’s texts: “Ellie, where are you? I got the money, let’s start over…” I deleted the messages and stepped into the luxury car. In the rearview mirror, the dismal rental apartment shrunk, just like three years of my devoted heart, finally crumbling to dust under the harsh, unyielding sunlight. And in the distance, around the street corner, Caleb Hawk had Brooke Kingsley’s arm draped around his waist, pointing at my car and laughing to someone. “See that? That’s the flower girl I got bored of playing with.” A bitter smile touched my lips. “Drive,” I told the driver. From that moment on, Caleb Hawk’s schemes would no longer involve Eleanor Hawk. His only decent gift was a necklace he bought from a street vendor for eighty dollars when his first startup succeeded. I’d been furious, thinking he was wasting money. But Caleb had just watched me, amused. He’d called me silly, asking what would happen if he really became rich someday and I still couldn’t bear to spend money. I’d thought then he was being considerate. Now, it was clear he truly thought I was a fool. Scrolling through the dense, sprawling chat logs, there were exactly 517 instances of Caleb calling me silly. When I’d run through three streets to buy him his favorite late-night snack, he’d called me “Ellie, so silly.” When he’d had a fever, I’d draped my only raincoat over him, carrying him on my back to the clinic, and he’d remarked, “She’s ridiculously stupid.” Even when I lay in his arms, dreaming of a brighter future with him, he’d post in the group chat: “Ellie’s hopelessly stupid, dreaming of a future with me when she’s this poor…” Even in cold text, I could imagine the disdain and mockery with which he’d typed those words. But it didn’t matter anymore. In my future, Eleanor Hawk’s future, Caleb Hawk would no longer exist. I continued to pack, but in the end, my large suitcase remained mostly empty. The trash can, however, overflowed. I surveyed this home, where I’d lived for two years, one last time. Peeling paint stained with watermarks, a chair with a broken leg, a bed cobbled together from bricks and planks… During better times, I’d thought about decorating this place, making it feel like a home. But Caleb had always refused. He’d say we wouldn’t live here once he had money, so decorating was pointless. I’d believed every one of his promises, then clung to this dilapidated apartment, foolishly waiting for those promises to materialize. Thinking about it all, I suddenly felt a profound sense of pointlessness. I closed my suitcase. The real estate agent called. “Miss Hawk, I can’t finalize the sublease for the flower shop without your personal discussion with the landlord.” At 3 PM sharp, I arrived at the designated office building to meet the agent. In the lavish corridor, through a slightly ajar door, I saw Caleb Hawk. He was in a well-fitted suit, head bowed, fiddling with his phone. Beside him, a meticulously dressed woman leaned intimately against his shoulder. The moment I saw her, I recognized her. Two days prior, the flower shop received an order for nine hundred ninety-nine roses. Because the customer specifically requested the thorns not be removed, I’d spent hours, my hands bleeding, wrapping them all. When I personally delivered them by taxi, the recipient was this very woman, Brooke Kingsley. Tucked into the center of the roses was a small card, as requested by the customer: “To my lifelong love, Brooke. Signed: CH.” Only at this moment did it click: CH stood for Caleb Hawk. He had known, with chilling clarity, that I would never turn down such a large order, desperate as I was for money. So he had deliberately made those demands, watching me spin around, a puppet on his strings. The thought made me laugh, tears welling in my eyes. After I’d gone home that day, I’d even excitedly shared with Caleb that I’d made good money. When he’d tenderly bandaged my wounds, was he, even then, silently sneering, calling me a fool, reducing my pain to a punchline? Wiping away the tears from my eyes, the agent arrived. He saw me standing by the door and asked, puzzled, “Miss Hawk, the landlord is inside. Why don’t you go in?” My eyes, still tear-rimmed, stared at the agent in shock. “You said who? The landlord? Caleb Hawk?” The agent, oblivious, replied, “Yes. You didn’t know? That entire block on Main Street, it’s all Mr. Hawk’s territory.” I looked at Caleb Hawk’s figure in the distance. Painful memories, long dormant, surged forth like a bitter tide, threatening to drown me. After I’d helped Caleb pay off his debt the second time, I spent a long period struggling to make ends meet, unable to even pay rent. Four or five burly men had crowded the flower shop entrance, demanding rent. They’d smashed all the flowers in the shop, and even stomped on my cat, Snowball, letting him shriek in pain without releasing their feet. Snowball had been with me for twelve years; he wasn’t just a pet, but as vital to me as Caleb himself, a member of my family. I’d cried, my voice choked with tears, kneeling on the floor, begging them to spare him. In the three years I’d owned the shop, there had been countless times I’d been harassed for rent or protection money. But I’d never mentioned it to Caleb; I didn’t want to burden him. But this time, I was truly terrified. I’d called him, crying so hard I could barely breathe. I’d asked him, “Caleb, what do I do? Save Snowball, save him…” Caleb had known how important Snowball was to me, yet he’d remained silent for a long time before saying he was sorry. I’d watched, powerless, as those men trampled my cat to death. I’d held him, feeling him grow cold, then stiff, in my arms. Just as helpless as I had been when Mom’s life slipped away in my arms years ago. Yet, even after that, I hadn’t hated Caleb. I’d only regretted my own helplessness. But now, the truth was laid bare before me: the landlord who forced me to pay rent was Caleb Hawk. The one who could have saved Snowball with a single word was also Caleb Hawk. But he hadn’t saved him. And Snowball had died. I almost bit through my tongue to keep the sob from escaping my lips. I ran out of the office building, hailed a taxi, and told the driver to go to the airport. In the car, my hand trembling, I called my father. Twenty-seven years old, and the only person I could rely on now was the father I’d always tried to deny. “Dad, can you come pick me up now? Please…” … Meanwhile, Caleb Hawk, Brooke Kingsley, and his group of friends emerged from the office. Caleb’s head was bowed, his eyes fixed on the message thread with me on his screen. For two full days, I hadn’t sent him a single message. He was agitated, pulling out a cigarette, then putting it back when he remembered I didn’t like the smell of smoke on him. His buddy, standing behind him, clapped a hand on his shoulder, a hint of schadenfreude in his voice as he looked at the dark screen. “What’s up, Caleb? Is the little girl out of money this time? Not playing with you anymore?” A flash of frustrated anger crossed Caleb’s eyes. He shoved his friend’s arm away. “Who said that? Ellie loves me so much. She’s probably scrambling somewhere to get me the money right now!” “You just wait. After I give her a few days of cold shoulder, she’ll hand over the cash!” No sooner had he spoken than the real estate agent, who’d overheard my name, approached. “Ellie? Mr. Hawk, you know Miss Hawk? Perfect! She wants to sublease her flower shop. I was worried you might not approve!” Caleb frowned. He had a vague feeling that the anxiety building in his heart over the past few days was about to find its answer. He forced himself to remain composed, feigning nonchalance. “The flower shop is doing fine. Why would she sublease it?” The agent gave him a placating smile, completely unaware of the significance of his words. “Miss Hawk said she’s tired of running the shop and wants to go home to get married.” Caleb’s phone clattered to the floor. He lunged, grabbing the agent’s collar, his expression savage. “What did you say? Married? Who’s getting married?!” The agent, startled by his sudden aggression, stammered. “Mr. Hawk, it’s Eleanor, Miss Hawk, who’s getting married. Don’t, don’t you know her?” “IMPOSSIBLE!” Caleb roared. His eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving violently. The agent was almost collapsing in fear, but Caleb held him tight by the collar. Finally, Caleb’s friends rushed over, talking him down, persuading him to let go. The agent, gasping for breath, quickly dropped the lease transfer agreement and fled. Caleb stood there, clutching the flimsy paper in his hand, feeling as if his very breath had become heavy. “Caleb, Ellie must be playing hard to get. She loves you so much, how could she marry someone else?” “Yeah, Caleb. Maybe she’s subleasing the flower shop just to pay off your debts!”

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As the sole daughter of the Vance family, my billion-dollar inheritance was shadowed by the agonizing memory of three childhood kidnappings. My father had surrounded me with a hundred bodyguards; even my school commute required three armored vehicles. “Choose a husband,” he’d urged, “one who will protect you day and night.” I chose Lucian Thorne, the one who seemed gentlest to me. Yet, on our wedding day, he dismissed all my bodyguards. I found myself tied to a rooftop, a kidnapper’s blade at my throat. On the other end of the phone, Lucian’s voice was a cold sneer: “Elara Vance, is this really necessary? You had thugs harass Seraphina Thorne. She’s the victim here. Who exactly is this little performance for?” “All I did was assign your bodyguards to protect her 24/7, so you could finally get a taste of living in fear.” I counted the chimes of the city clock from the rooftop. Each hour that passed, I lost another finger. Twenty-four hours later, my blood ran dry, and my heart died with it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I had to choose a husband—my father’s hand still held those eight photographs. This time, my finger swept past Lucian Thorne’s image and landed squarely on the roguish, devil-may-care smile in the far corner. But my father said, “That man is dead.” 1 I stared at the eight photographs in my father’s hand, my finger sweeping past Lucian Thorne’s gentle, almost ethereal face without a tremor, moving directly to the bottom corner, to that dark-skinned, rogue’s smile. My father frowned. “Elara, I thought you liked Lucian Thorne best? Why choose Ryder Blackwood?” I clenched my fingers so tightly my nails dug into my palms. Ryder Blackwood. A top athlete from childhood, but infamous in the D.C. elite scene as a notorious playboy. His skin was perpetually tanned, and he spent his days at racetracks and nightclubs, his female companions rotating more frequently than his designer clothes. My father despised him, having exiled him to a remote, far-flung project in Willow Creek just to get rid of him. But I remembered. In my past life, tied to that rooftop, bleeding out drop by agonizing drop, the last image I saw before plunging was Ryder Blackwood, rushing toward me like a madman—his face contorted with terror and raw anguish. “I’ll choose him,” I whispered, my voice trembling. My father frowned, pulling out his phone to scroll through his contacts, but he paused, awkwardly—he didn’t even have Ryder Blackwood’s number saved. How ironic. These eight men were all his adopted “sons,” yet Ryder Blackwood didn’t even merit a contact entry. His chief assistant quickly called back. “Mr. Vance, Ryder Blackwood met with an accident last month in Willow Creek. A mudslide.” My father sighed. “Elara, choose someone else. Lucian Thorne is actually…” “No. I’m not choosing anyone else.” I stood up abruptly, my throat tight. “Besides him, I want no one.” In my past life, those so-called “brothers” either fawned over Lucian Thorne’s cousin or coldly laughed at my misfortune. Reborn, I’d rather be alone forever than be stabbed by that false tenderness again. I walked out of the office in a daze, Ryder Blackwood’s final expression burned into my mind. If even he was dead, who else in this world would fight for me to the death? Suddenly, a cold hand clamped onto my wrist. I looked up. It was Lucian Thorne. Seraphina Thorne was leaning against him, her slender body subtly trembling, her eyes red-rimmed, as if she’d endured the greatest injustice. Lucian Thorne’s expression was gentle, but his tone was stiff. “Elara, Seraphina isn’t well. Your hot springs resort is empty anyway; let her go there to recuperate for a few days. She’s been having trouble sleeping and coughing a lot lately.” In my past life, I would have softened and agreed instantly. But now, I simply gave them a cold look. “I don’t agree.” With that, I directly called my assistant. “Lock the resort gates. Don’t let any riff-raff slip in.” Lucian Thorne’s face changed instantly. “Elara!” He gripped my wrist roughly, his hold painfully tight. “She’s my cousin. She’ll be family someday. Can’t you be reasonable?” I scoffed, sharply yanking my hand free. “Who among you is family to me?” His pupils constricted, as if stung. “What’s gotten into you? Just because Seraphina wore your hair clip last time? You have rooms full of jewelry. What’s wrong with letting her borrow one?” Seraphina chose that moment to sob, tears clinging to her lashes. “Lucian, it’s alright… Miss Vance looks down on me. I’m not worthy anyway…” I couldn’t be bothered to watch their charade any longer. I turned and walked away. “I said no, and that’s final.” Back in my room, I pulled the covers over my head and tried to sleep. The dizzying sensation of rebirth still churned, until a jarring phone ring jolted me awake. “Miss Vance!” My assistant’s voice was tearful. “Mr. Thorne brought Miss Thorne into the resort! I couldn’t stop them. The bodyguards all listened to him!” I shot upright. Images of my past kidnapping flashed before my eyes—the very bodyguards who were supposed to protect me had just as readily followed Lucian Thorne, abandoning me to my captors. Rushing into the resort, one bodyguard dared to block my path. “Miss Vance, Mr. Thorne instructed that no one is to disturb them.” SLAP! I lashed out, my palm connecting sharply with his face, my body trembling with rage. “You eat my food, but you listen to others? Get out of my sight, now!” The moment I pushed open the inner chamber door, the sight before me made my blood run cold. 2 In the steamy mist of the hot springs, Seraphina Thorne leaned languidly against the pool’s edge, her cheeks flushed with an unnatural blush. “Lucian, I’m so dizzy…” Before she finished, her body went limp, and she started to slide into the water. Lucian Thorne jumped into the pool without hesitation, pulling her into his arms. Water droplets ran down his taut jawline, landing on Seraphina’s bare shoulder. “Lucian Thorne,” I interrupted, my voice cutting through the air. “I told you, you’re not welcome here.” His body stiffened. Seraphina’s eyelashes fluttered in his arms. “Elara!” A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, quickly turning to anger. “Do you have to be so aggressive? She almost fainted! Can’t you be less cruel?!” Seraphina suddenly broke free from his embrace, falling to her knees with a splash before me, her forehead hitting the ground hard. “Miss Vance, I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault!” Blood trickled down her pale cheek. Suddenly, she lunged, grabbing my leg, but the next second, as if shoved, she toppled back into the pool. She struggled in the water, crying out in pain, “Help! I’m cramping!” Lucian Thorne jumped in again to scoop her up. When he emerged, he looked at me with pure disgust. “Elara Vance, you are truly despicable!” He violently shoved me into the pool. BANG! My arm slammed against the pool wall, immediately bruising. “If you ever bully Seraphina like this again,” he said, cradling the trembling Seraphina, his voice icy, “I won’t marry you.” Watching their retreating backs, I climbed out of the pool, feeling humiliated. “Every single person who let them in today—you’re all fired!” As I was changing, my assistant rushed in. “Miss Vance! We found a lead on Ryder Blackwood!” I rushed to Willow Creek that night. The mountain roads, ravaged by heavy rain, were muddy and treacherous. Just as I settled into a small inn, a pair of large hands suddenly grabbed me. The person violently yanked me into a dark alley, a warm hand clamping tightly over my mouth. I looked up in terror, meeting a pair of eyes as bright as stars. “Ryder Blackwood?!” He quickly released me, his masked face flushed red. “Miss Vance, what are you doing in a place like this…?” “You’re not dead?” My voice trembled. He scratched his head sheepishly, revealing a charming little canine tooth. “There was an insider leak on the project here. I used the mudslide as an excuse to fake my death and expose the traitor.” “You can do that?” I asked, surprised. His smile suddenly dimmed. “Did I disappoint you? Do you… always think I’m stupid?” My heart gave a sudden, sharp pang. I grabbed his hand, desperate. “Listen! You have to be back before the 8th, for the wedding!” His body stiffened, his eyes instantly dimming. “Okay. I’ll definitely be there for your wedding.” “You idiot,” I stomped my foot in frustration. “I mean, I’m marrying you…” “Boss! The insider’s getting away!” a shout echoed from the distance. He frantically backed away two steps. “Miss Vance, there might be danger here. You should go back quickly! I’ll be at the wedding!” Ryder Blackwood’s hasty retreating figure quickly vanished into the alley. I stood there, a whirlwind of thoughts in my mind. In my past life, he was the least noticed among the eight. Everyone said he was all brawn and no brains, only fit for nightclubs and outdoor activities. Not like Lucian Thorne, always impeccably suited, glasses glinting as he plotted his strategies. Yet, the most peripheral tasks, the trickiest connections, were always handed to Ryder Blackwood to handle. But now, I realized these so-called “peripheral tasks” involved dealing with the most difficult and shady characters. Without incredible finesse and street smarts, how could he have handled them so flawlessly? On the return journey, I had my assistant create a new digital wedding invitation and send it to Ryder Blackwood. It wasn’t until the middle of the night that my phone finally chimed with a notification. “Miss Vance, the groom’s name is incorrect. Remember to change it.” The “typing…” bubble above the chat flickered for a long time before another message appeared. “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely be at the wedding.” I couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Nothing I said now would convince him. I’d just have to explain in person when he returned. My phone vibrated relentlessly. Lucian Thorne sent message after message: “Seraphina needs your apology.” “Don’t be so childish.” I opened the screen and, without hesitation, deleted his contact. 3 Knowing Ryder Blackwood was alive, and far more capable than I’d imagined, my mood was brighter than ever before. I began preparing for the wedding. That day, I pushed open the glass door of the bridal shop, immediately assailed by a cloying scent of cheap perfume. “Lucian~ Does this look good on me?” Seraphina Thorne’s sickly sweet voice instantly raised goosebumps on my arms. She was brazenly wearing the wedding gown my mother had custom-ordered for me, admiring herself repeatedly in the mirror. Lucian Thorne watched her tenderly. “Seraphina, you look beautiful in anything.” “Oh, stop it~ You’re such a charmer, Lucian~” Seraphina purred, twirling, the cheap perfume scent permeating the air. I suppressed my anger and walked toward them. The moment Lucian Thorne saw me, his face visibly stiffened. He instinctively stepped forward, blocking Seraphina, his voice deliberately gentle. “Elara, don’t misunderstand. Seraphina isn’t well, and she might… she might not make it to her own wedding day. She just wanted to experience wearing a wedding dress.” Seraphina began to cough delicately. “Take it off,” I interrupted, my voice icy. Seraphina’s eyes immediately welled up. “Miss Vance, I’m so sorry, I just envied you too much.” She trembled, grabbing Lucian Thorne’s sleeve. “It’s all my fault, don’t blame Lucian…” Lucian Thorne’s face hardened. “You’ll be marrying me sooner or later anyway. What does it matter if she tries it on? Can’t you just let her be happy?” “I said, take. It. Off.” I repeated each word slowly, my gaze sweeping over the trembling sales assistants. “When did the wedding dress I ordered become available for others to try on?” Two sales assistants frantically helped Seraphina out of the gown. Several red marks appeared on her fair arms from the tight fabric. Seraphina wept, tears streaming down her face like rain. “I’m sorry, I’m so low, I don’t deserve to wear such beautiful clothes!” She suddenly went limp, collapsing to the floor. Lucian Thorne lunged forward, catching her in one swift motion, then turned to me, roaring, “Elara Vance, are you satisfied?!” “Disinfect it three times,” I said, frowning in disgust. “Don’t leave even a trace of her scent.” Seraphina, covering her face, ran out. Lucian Thorne glared at me, his face livid, then slammed the door shut and left. That evening, my assistant conspiratorially leaned in. “Miss Vance, guess what? That perpetually fragile Seraphina Thorne was hit by a car today! I heard her leg is broken!” She gesticulated excitedly. “If you ask me, it’s karma! She clearly knew Lucian Thorne was your fiancé, yet she was always clinging to him, acting like some innocent little flower. It was disgusting!” I gently swirled the red wine in my glass, a cold smirk touching my lips. “Who told you Lucian Thorne was my fiancé?” My assistant’s eyes widened, nearly dropping the fruit platter. “Miss Vance, are you saying…” “Go tell the wedding planner to change the groom’s name,” I said, taking a sip of wine. “Make it Ryder Blackwood.” “That’s wonderful!” my assistant clapped her hands, excited. “Miss Vance! That Lucian Thorne, even if he seemed decent, had no boundaries. Always clinging to Seraphina Thorne, he was a real player.” I couldn’t help but smile faintly. Even my assistant saw it so clearly. How could I have been so deluded in my past life? Love truly does blind you. With a soft sigh, I shook my head. The next morning, as I stepped out of the company building, my vision suddenly went black. A sack was roughly pulled over my head! “Who?! Let go of me!” I struggled desperately. My assailant violently shoved me into a car. My back slammed hard against the car door, making me gasp in pain. The familiar terror instantly swept through me, memories of my past kidnapping flooding back like a tide. “Please! I’ll give you any amount of money!” My voice trembled uncontrollably, tears soaking the blindfold. My only response was a suffocating silence. Until that familiar scent drifted into my nostrils—Lucian Thorne’s usual cologne. My heart plunged to rock bottom. “You… what do you want…?” “Someone wanted me to teach you a good lesson,” he said, his voice deliberately lowered. Even though I’d already decided not to marry him, his actions now still caused an unbearable ache in my heart. CRACK! An iron bar struck my leg with a sickening thud. The excruciating pain made my vision swim. My heart felt like it was tearing apart. I suppressed the urge to expose his disguise. I curled into a ball in the corner of the car, tears silently soaking the sack. In the last moment before losing consciousness, I heard his cold voice: “Remember this lesson.” 4 The iron bar struck my leg with a dull thud, once, twice, thrice… Fifteen times in all. The sound of bone cracking was sickeningly clear. I screamed until I lost consciousness, then was dumped at the gates of the Vance family estate. The sterile smell of the hospital was acrid and nauseating. From the VIP room next door, Seraphina Thorne’s voice drifted. “Lucian, you’re so tired from spending all your time with me!” My heart twisted with a crushing pain. Lucian Thorne, to get revenge for Seraphina, you could be so utterly brutal! “Daughter!” My father rushed in, embracing me tightly, his voice trembling. “Who did this? I’ll make them wish they were never born!” “It’s okay, Dad,” I said, forcing a smile through the pain. “Just get me a new team of bodyguards!” I added, “Oh, and Ryder Blackwood is alive. Once we’re married, he’ll protect me too.” After my father left, I leaned on a crutch and hobbled to the window. In the garden below, Lucian Thorne was spinning Seraphina around on his back. She whispered something in his ear that made his ear tips flush red, and he smiled with such tenderness. It was a smile I had never received. The day before the wedding, Ryder Blackwood arrived, covered in dust, still smelling of earth. He carefully pulled a smooth jade pendant from his pocket. “Miss Vance, a wedding gift!” “The groom has finally returned,” I said, taking the jade, deliberately raising my voice. Ryder Blackwood froze, his eyes instantly reddening, his lips trembling but unable to speak. My assistant quietly informed me that Lucian Thorne had been missing for the past few days. I scoffed. He was waiting for me to lower my head and apologize, waiting for me to come crying, begging him to return and marry me. Unfortunately, his calculations were wrong. That evening, my phone suddenly vibrated. Seraphina Thorne sent a video—a graphic scene of her and Lucian Thorne entwined, utterly indecent. But quickly, the video was recalled. “Amateurish,” I scoffed, closing my phone. Such tactics were pathetic. Standing by the window, I saw Ryder Blackwood standing alone under the starlit sky, gazing up at my window. He waved to me, his smile warm and resolute. In that moment, my heart felt an unprecedented calm. On the morning of the wedding, my phone rang. “Just apologize to Seraphina, and I’ll come marry you immediately,” Lucian Thorne’s voice was still condescending. “No need,” I said, hanging up crisply, a cold smirk on my lips. At the wedding venue, guests whispered amongst themselves. “Where’s Lucian Thorne?” “Are they going to cancel the wedding?” I ignored them, walking down the aisle, linked arm-in-arm with Ryder Blackwood. His arm muscles were tense, but he carefully controlled his strength, fearful of hurting me. “Let us congratulate Mr. Ryder Blackwood and Miss Elara Vance!” the officiant’s voice boomed through the hall. Just then, the ballroom doors were violently thrown open. Lucian Thorne, pale and late, stood in the doorway, the bouquet in his hand smashing to the floor. I curved my lips into a smile and, under his disbelieving gaze, leaned in and kissed Ryder Blackwood.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392689”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Twenty minutes before the ceremony, I found a letter stitched into the lining of my wedding dress. It was from another woman. To my groom. If you love me, sew this into her dress. Let her be a stand-in. Remember, your bride is just a substitute. You belong only to me. Good morning, good afternoon, good night to you, even if we can only love in secret. Ten years of shared life, of dreams, shattered into dust in an instant. 1 The pristine white paper fluttered from my grasp, my hands trembling violently. The intricate butterfly design on my bridal manicure suddenly felt like a garish mockery. Layers of tulle pooled at my feet as I reached into the dress’s hidden seam and pulled out the letter – a tiny envelope, stitched with white thread, clumsy yet deliberate stitches. This was… a secret pact between my groom and someone else. The handwriting was dainty, the closing adorned with a heart, intertwining his nickname with hers: Ethie love Skylar Let your bride be me… Secretly in love… I mouthed the words, my throat choked as if stuffed with waterlogged cotton. Who was she? Who was Skylar? Today’s bride was me, wasn’t she? The wedding I’d waited ten years for—how had it become her emotional stand-in? A woman who didn’t even dare show her face, trying to stake her claim at my wedding? A shiver of icy dread ran through me. I suddenly remembered last night – Nathan had chuckled, as he took my dress, “Of course, we’ll get a special shot of Coraline’s dress. Imagine us on the couch, sixty years from now, looking at these photos. How romantic!” Then, I’d bubbled with pure joy. Now, the memory felt like a cruel twist of the knife. My fingertips grazed the rough, uneven stitches on the letter, and my eyes stung with sudden tears. My groom, with his own hands, had sewn his mistress’s love letter into my wedding dress, allowing her to “marry” him in this grotesque way. And I? I was just a placeholder, a shadow to be replaced. 2 A searing agony shot through me, buckling my knees. I crumpled to the floor, the tiny crystals on the dress digging into my skin, a cruel reminder of my glittering illusion. Only fifteen minutes until my grand entrance. How could I tell everyone? How could I explain that the man I loved, the man who was publicly marrying me, was secretly welcoming another woman into his heart? I’d been buzzing with excitement for this wedding for six months. My dress was custom-made by Leo, a designer friend overseas. He’d poured half a year into crafting this haute couture piece. The simple sweep of the skirt was adorned with hand-embroidered “Forever.” Countless sleepless nights, I’d secretly traced those silken threads, believing this was the final punctuation mark on ten years of love, a joyful comma leading to a lifetime of happiness. Now, it was the most sickening mockery. “Coraline! You’re on! Why aren’t you in your dress yet?” Juliette, my best friend, pounded on the door, her voice laced with urgency. I took a deep breath, then pulled the door open. I stood in nothing but a nude-colored slip, my veil, jewelry, and hair accessories all ripped off, my hair a wild cascade around my shoulders. “Coraline? You…” Juliette’s camera clattered to the floor. She had intended to capture my graceful entrance. “What happened? Does the dress not fit? Do we need to delay?” “Don’t touch me!” I yanked my arm from her grasp and walked barefoot toward the main wedding hall. I was going to the center stage, to rip this farce open with my own hands. 3 Staff in the corridor gasped, rushing to stop me, but I pushed them all aside. As my hand brushed the ornate carvings on the grand hall doors, a dull ache pierced my chest. I had meticulously chosen these doors myself, the carved roses meant to echo the “Forever” on my dress. Now, they seemed like a thousand sneering mouths, mocking my foolishness. My nails dug into my palms as I strode through the throng. With every step, the excited murmur of the crowd dimmed. By the time I stood barefoot on the stage, the entire hall fell silent, the guests’ stunned stares like countless needles pricking my skin. No one dared to speak. No one knew what to do. How strange, indeed, for a bride to appear barefoot, in only a slip, her hair disheveled. My parents and Nathan’s parents were the first to rush forward, forming a barrier in front of me. Juliette tried to grab me from behind, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Coraline! Are you out of your mind?” “What’s going on? Juliette, what happened to Coraline? Why isn’t she dressed?” My parents were frantic. My mom surged forward, trying to shield me from the gawking eyes. I smiled faintly at her. “Mom, it’s okay. If I don’t lay it all bare now, the humiliation will only be worse later.” The emcee on stage looked around desperately, hoping someone would tell him what to do. Beside him stood the man I had loved for ten years: Nathan Miller. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his hair neatly combed, his posture tall and confident. This was the man I had dreamed of marrying countless times… I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I cried out his nickname. “Ethie!” Nathan flinched, his body stiffening. Then he turned sharply, his gaze falling upon my expressionless face. 4 I pushed past my parents and stepped forward, meeting Nathan’s eyes, calm and unwavering. Like the emcee, he instinctively glanced left and right, trying to comprehend the scene. “Coraline?” He rubbed his eyes. When the reality dawned on him, he immediately pulled me into his arms, shielding me. “Coraline! You’re not dressed! Why are you only in your slip?” He looked back at the stunned audience, at the countless eyes fixed on us. Quickly, he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around me, then bent down, reaching for my feet. “Coraline, the floor is freezing! Why are you barefoot? What happened? What is this all about?” He frowned, his eyes filled with apparent concern, as if nothing mattered but my well-being. I let his tall frame cocoon me, but my voice was cold as I asked, “Is it because her name is Skylar, that you go by Ethie, huh?” His hands, reaching for my feet, froze in mid-air. “Nathan Miller, how many years have you been lying to me?” “Who are you marrying today? Me, or that Skylar? The woman you fantasized about beneath my wedding dress—was it me, or her? The one you stood here waiting for—was it me, or her? You looked at me, but your heart was with her, wasn’t it? You put her things in my wedding dress, and you imagined she was standing here, didn’t you? Nathan, you play a cruel game.” I clearly saw the veins pulsing in his neck, his temples flaring crimson and purple. My voice, loud and sharp, carried through the emcee’s microphone, echoing across the silent hall. I didn’t need to say more; anyone with a brain had already understood the situation. “Nathan Miller, we’re done. I want a divorce!” “I don’t want you anymore.” With that, I slapped him across the face, tore off his jacket, tossed it to the ground, and turned to walk away. Confetti, scattered in joyous celebration, now pricked the soles of my feet. A dull ache, yet nothing compared to the agony in my heart. A roar erupted from the crowd. Someone started demanding what was going on. My parents and his parents rushed forward, flailing their arms, trying to explain to the bewildered guests. They turned back, shouting at Nathan, asking what he had done. What had he done? He had made a clown of me at my own wedding! I bolted, running as fast as I could. Nathan chased after me, his voice tearing through the air. “Coraline! Let me explain! Coraline! It’s not what you think… Skylar, she’s dead!” 5 I stopped, just for a few seconds. Nathan caught up, grabbing me, forcefully turning me to face him. “She’s been dead for ages! You didn’t even know me when she died, and she was only ten! She was just a child! She’s not my mistress! Please, listen to me!” Ten years old…? A ten-year-old girl? Was that even plausible? “It’s not because she’s Skylar that I go by Ethie. It’s because I go by Ethie that she gave herself the name Skylar! She was infatuated with me!” “But I never felt anything for her. She was just a child! She didn’t understand anything, she just idolized an older brother! When she said she wanted to marry me, it was just a child’s innocent remark. I couldn’t bear to tell a sick child what the real world was like!” My legs went weak, and I slumped into his embrace, my heart colder than it had been moments before. “Really? Why did you never tell me?” “For a long time, I wondered why you’d call yourself Ethie. What grown man uses a nickname like that? So it was to match Skylar, then, was it? Nathan, you never told me that.” The wind outside wasn’t cold, just a gentle caress, as comfortable as the day Nathan and I made our relationship official. That day, he was playing basketball. Mid-game, he suddenly ran toward me, ball still in his arms. “Coraline, I can’t hold it in anymore! I can’t stand it! I have to tell you! I like you! I like you! I like you! I love you!” The sweat was still fresh on his face, radiating youthful vigor. My cheeks flushed scarlet, and I turned my back, too shy to respond. He pressed on, “Coraline, do you dare to make a bet with me? A bet that we’ll be together forever!” And somehow, I found my courage too, telling him I dared. Our mutual affection found its outcome, and from that day on, I began to dream of our wedding. Ten years. I never once thought of wanting anyone else, and it was only natural to assume the same of him. A young Skylar, idolizing an older brother. A sick, naive girl uttering childish words. An older brother, out of kindness, not refuting her innocent dreams, promising to fulfill her wishes if she got better. What a touching, heartwarming story. But if Nathan was only trying to comfort Skylar, why, ten years later, would he actually sew the girl’s letter into my wedding dress? Why would he still be so fixated on a child? 6 He explained, swearing he was telling the absolute truth. “Nathan Miller, I don’t believe you. Do you understand? I. Don’t. Believe. You!” I pulled away from him again. “I’m divorcing you. We’re getting a divorce!” Nathan’s parents’ voices reached us from behind. “Coraline, you’re being so childish!” “We’ve invited all our friends and family today! On a day like this, what are you doing causing such a scene?! My son has already explained everything. What are you still being so dramatic about? Barefoot and in your underwear – don’t you have any shame? You’re not just embarrassing yourself, you’re disgracing the Miller name!” I was astonished. Nathan’s parents had always been polite and respectful towards me. We’d known each other for ten years; they were like my own parents. I’d always felt completely at ease with them. “You’ve been married for three days, and you want a divorce? Are you trying to drag my son down? You might not care, but he has a reputation to uphold! What will people say? Married three days and his wife ran off!” Who was running off? Me? Wait, why did it sound like I was the one who cheated? My parents caught up. My dad, stern and formidable, immediately pushed back against them. “That’s not fair, is it? Marriage is between two people. If Nathan has done something truly awful, my daughter has every right to end the marriage. It’s not for you two to come barking orders here!” My mom and dad shielded me. My mom draped her jacket over my shoulders. “Coraline, don’t worry. Your mom knows there must be a reason for this. Your dad and I are here for you!” My mom whispered comfort, and my heart found solid ground. Tears, suddenly, streamed down my face. The pent-up, suppressed hurt of the last few minutes crashed over me like a torrential downpour, leaving me gasping for air. I wrapped my arms around my mom’s neck, no longer able to hold back the sobs. Nathan, meanwhile, was telling his parents to shut up, kneeling on the ground, swearing he had never cheated. His words were fervent, so earnest that if I hadn’t recognized the handwriting, I might have believed him. The letter was small, the handwriting tiny, but I still knew whose it was. I was certain. There was no ten-year-old child. Skylar was his mistress. Nathan had just spun a blatant lie.

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My whole family had fallen into a trap set by money, but except for me, my parents and sister had walked right into it, willingly. They staged a fake divorce, making me go with Dad. While I was gnawing on instant ramen in a leaky rented room, they were living it up in a mansion with Brooke, feasting on king crab. The fifty-sixth time Dad knocked me out and stole my earnings, a thought, like a message in a chat feed, floated through my mind: “Poor little sis is so pathetic, she still doesn’t know her parents’ divorce is fake. This is actually a reality show, a live broadcast to test the difference between raising kids with nothing and spoiling them rotten!” “Yeah, for every day sis suffers, her parents and Brooke rake in tens of thousands!” “The lives of the poor are just a game for the rich…” Following the address in the chat feed, I found my family living lavishly in a sprawling villa – turns out, they only ever had one precious princess: Brooke. 1 I froze, staring at my parents and Brooke, dressed in their finest. All my past suspicions instantly confirmed. They hadn’t divorced. Our family wasn’t bankrupt. Only I had been kept in the dark. Was it because I was quieter, more obedient, that I became the one cast aside? My chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, the pain stealing my breath. The chat feed said it was a live game show, that rich people behind screens were making five-figure incomes daily by watching my suffering and showering them with gifts. Could they really do this to me, all for money? I stood in the sunlight, yet felt a chilling cold, as if plunged into an ice abyss. Just then, my phone chimed. A text from Brooke: “Hey sis, heard you’re working to earn your living expenses? So sad. But you’re always the most sensible one, I’m sure you’ll work hard, right?” Every word dripped with malicious glee. Brooke had always been a sweet-talker, charming everyone. I was introverted, quiet. In middle school, I ranked first in my class, while Brooke was at the bottom. Yet, Mom and Dad blamed me for showing off in front of her. Even then, I knew they played favorites, but I never imagined their favoritism could reach this extreme. “What are you doing?! Look at the time!” A familiar shout yanked me back to reality. I hadn’t realized I’d walked all the way to the local market where I worked. After the divorce, Dad had turned to drinking, spending his days either beating me or stealing my money for booze. Being underage, I had to take under-the-table jobs. I numbly took the greasy apron, and only by dawn, clutching my daily wages, did I stumble through the dim alleyways back home. The rented room was dilapidated and damp, paint peeling from the walls, windows cracked. Dad was rarely gone, but I knew he was probably off with Mom and Brooke again. After eating my instant ramen, I lay on the bed, acutely aware of the cameras tucked into every corner. Every tear I shed, every struggle I endured, was being broadcast for others’ amusement. Unable to sleep, I used the chat link to access the hidden streaming site. In the most popular live stream, I watched Mom and Dad and Brooke feasting on Australian lobster in a high-end restaurant, the lingering taste of instant ramen still in my mouth. In that moment, I felt like an ugly duckling hiding in the shadows, peeking in on the swan family’s bliss. 2 At 9 PM, I walked home clutching my report card—first in my class for the final exams. On the way, I spent two dollars on a simple, old-fashioned sponge cake, no frosting. It was the best reward I could give myself. I carefully placed the cake on the table, broke off a small piece, and put it in my mouth. Its coarse texture was rich with eggy flavor, and suddenly my nose stung with unshed tears. When had I last eaten cake? I’d long forgotten. Just then, the chat feed flickered before my eyes again: “Poor little sis, gets first place and only gets to celebrate with a two-dollar cake.” “Brooke’s different, though. She gets last place and still gets a fancy dinner with her parents.” The comments discussing the gourmet food my parents and Brooke were eating made the cake in my mouth turn to ash. Being alone in the house was too quiet. I couldn’t resist opening the live stream website again. Sure enough, in the live stream, my parents and Brooke were feasting at a high-end Japanese restaurant. I saw Mom gently stroking Brooke’s head, smiling, telling her that her score didn’t matter, just trying her best was enough. I also saw Dad put a large piece of salmon belly in Brooke’s bowl, saying that if she wanted, even if her grades were terrible, they’d send her to study abroad. The three of them chatted animatedly, dreaming of Brooke’s future abroad. Not a single word about me. It was as if this family didn’t have two daughters, but only one, Brooke. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness, quietly closing the live stream. Halfway through my cake, I suddenly heard heavy footsteps outside the door. Dad was back. I had wanted to show him my test scores, a faint smile touching my lips. But the report card was still clutched in my hand, and before I could even offer it, Dad shoved me. “Got any money? Hand it over, I need booze!” I hesitated, timidly, “I… don’t have much.” Last time, Dad had taken all my earnings from work, leaving me with almost nothing. “You worked and have no money? Who are you kidding?! Go buy it, now!” Dad growled, lifting his leg and kicking me. A bruise immediately bloomed on my calf. I dared not speak another word, stuffed the few crumpled bills into my pocket, and hurried out. I ran to the convenience store, bought the liquor, and then walked back home under the cover of night. “I bought the liquor.” Watching him drink, already soused, I gathered my courage. “Dad, my final exam results are out. I got…” Before “first place” could even leave my lips, Dad impatiently roared at me. “What’s the point of a girl studying so much? You’re just going to get married anyway! Hurry up and graduate, then go work and earn money. Bringing money back to support me—that’s what matters!” My eyes widened abruptly, the image from the live stream still echoing in my mind. Mom and Dad had explicitly encouraged Brooke to study, even saying that girls should travel when they’re young to broaden their horizons. Why was it, when it came to me, they only said studying was useless for a girl? The report card in my pocket was crumpled, never to be shown. Dad finished his liquor, then, reeking of booze, he stumbled out of the house, knocking over the dining table on his way. The half-eaten cake rolled to the floor, then was mercilessly trampled by his foot. Bang! The door slammed shut, and his footsteps faded into the distance. I stared at the mashed cake on the floor, tears silently streaming down my face. 3 For a long time after that, Dad never came back. I only learned through the live stream that it was because the college entrance exams were approaching, and Brooke wanted Mom and Dad to stay with her. I sat in the damp rented room, my heart feeling as if it had been submerged in ice water, the cold shaking me to my core. On the day of the college entrance exams, I walked to school by myself. Luxury cars whizzed past me on the road. I saw Brooke’s beaming face inside one. When the exam ended, as I reached the school gate, I saw Mom and Dad standing there, looking expectant. I instinctively smiled faintly. Just as I was about to approach and speak to them, I saw them raise their arms, waving towards another direction. I followed their gaze and saw Brooke, her face radiant with smiles. My steps, just about to move forward, suddenly halted. I watched, helpless, as the three of them walked away side by side, until they disappeared from sight. The chat feed once again filled my vision. “Brooke really is Mom and Dad’s darling, isn’t she? Three whole days of pampering during exams, bringing her all sorts of delicious food.” “Poor sis, all through her exams she only had plain bread and pickles. No nutrition at all.” “Is this all just for the live stream, to torture sis for ratings?” I couldn’t help but pull out my phone, open the live stream, and there were Mom and Dad responding to the comments. “This is also to toughen her up, you know. Can’t spoil her too much when she’s young. So many kids poorer than her make it through, why shouldn’t she?” “Once the university acceptance letters come out, we’ll let her come home. We won’t shortchange her then, don’t worry.” Watching their replies, a bitter smile touched my lips. They spoke in a condescending tone, saying they wouldn’t “shortchange” me, as if I should be eternally grateful for their charity. Why? Did they truly believe that a single sentence could erase six years of suffering and hardship I’d endured? 4 After the college entrance exams, I immediately began searching for more part-time jobs. I didn’t know if my parents would give me tuition money, but I knew, with absolute certainty, they didn’t love me. The day my exam results were released, I went back to school. Seeing my scores on the computer screen, my teacher beamed. “Willow Hayes, you’re first in our school again this time. I knew you’d get into Eastwood!” After saying goodbye to my teacher, I rushed home, eager to dig out the money I’d meticulously saved for tuition. It was all money I had secretly squirreled away from my part-time job earnings. But when I got home, I was greeted by a scene of chaos. The money I’d hidden was gone. Dad lay sprawled on the couch, snoring loudly, clutching a liquor bottle, the air thick with the stench of alcohol. I lost control, grabbing his shirt and shouting, “Dad! Where’s my money?!” He stirred awake, displeased, and shoved me, muttering curses under his breath. “What are you yelling at your old man for?! Your money is my money! I raised you, I fed you! What’s wrong with me taking some of your money?!” “That was my tuition! I got into Eastwood, I’m going to college!” Dad’s eyes bulged, his face turning menacing. “Study what?! You’re an adult now! Get out there and work for money! Don’t even think about asking me for a dime!” I trembled with rage, tears spilling from my eyes. “No. I’m going to study. If my tuition’s gone, I’ll just earn it myself again.” I threw the words out, firm and resolute, then turned and walked out the door. The sun blazed outside. I instinctively walked towards the local market, where I used to work. But the old vendor wasn’t there anymore. The stall was empty. As I pondered where else to find work, someone blocked my path. It was my own sister, Brooke Hayes. She wore a brand-new designer dress and shoes, a sparkling crystal necklace adorning her slender neck. I instinctively glanced down at my own faded, worn T-shirt and sweatpants, then, embarrassed, avoided her gaze. “Sis, I heard you did really well on your exams. Your name’s on the honor roll at school. So impressive.” She smiled warmly, her voice gentle. “Are you looking for a part-time job here? It’s too dirty. I can set you up with a tutoring gig. It’s for Mom’s friend, so you can trust it.” I saw the undisguised concern on her face, and my heart softened, just a little. I hadn’t expected that, in this moment, she would be the only one willing to help. 5 The tutoring job was far away, but the pay was excellent. The day I was about to save enough for tuition, on my way home from work, I was stopped by several men. Seeing the thuggish men in front of me, I instinctively took two steps back, clutching my backpack tighter. “Well, well, what a pretty little thing. What are you doing out here alone so late? Wanna grab some late-night food with us, doll?” One of them, a punk with bleached blond hair, whistled, eyes glazed with lust as he approached, reaching out to brush my cheek. “Don’t touch me!” I swatted his hand away, trying to break through their circle. But they grabbed my ponytail, and my backpack fell to the ground. They brazenly rifled through my bag, first pulling out my university acceptance letter, then finding the money in a hidden compartment and stuffing it into their pockets. “An Eastwood acceptance letter? A straight-A student, huh? Never tasted a brainy girl before.” “Either you come with us for a late-night bite, or we rip up your acceptance letter.” He leered at me, his gaze disgusting. “Don’t rip it!” I screamed, instinctively reaching for my acceptance letter, but they kicked me to the ground, my clothes tearing with a loud rip. Having never experienced anything like this, my mind went blank. I screamed in protest, curling into a ball. The bleached-blond punk, his face scratched by my nails, tore my acceptance letter to shreds in a fit of rage. “Damn it! You asked for this!” He rummaged in a nearby trash can, pulled out a rusty iron bar, and without hesitation, brought it down on my calf. I screamed, clutching my leg, trembling all over. “Poor sis, she has no idea these thugs were set up by Brooke.” “The tutoring job was just a front. Who’d be that nice? Only sis would fall for it.” Enduring the searing pain in my leg, the chat comments appearing before my eyes completely shattered my already faltering mind. The part-time job I’d so excitedly accepted was just Brooke’s deceptive trap, luring me in. And I, oblivious, had been endlessly grateful to her. The tearing pain in my heart completely overshadowed the physical agony of the beating. “You… were you sent by my sister?” I choked out a mouthful of blood, staring at them, my phone quietly recording. The bleached-blond punk spat at me. “Guess you’ve got some brains. Who told you to piss her off? This is your lesson. Stay away from her from now on!” After that, another flurry of punches and kicks. After they left, I lay curled on the ground, motionless. Every inch of my body screamed with pain, especially my calf. It was probably broken. Gentle footsteps approached. I slowly opened my eyes, seeing Brooke standing not far away, watching me. I whispered, my voice barely audible, “…Call… call 911.” She stared at me for a long moment, unmoving, then slowly a smile curved her lips. She was smiling. A smile that chilled me to the bone. Then she turned and walked away without a backward glance. 6 I don’t know how long I lay there on the ground until someone passing by found me. “Are you okay, miss?” The person was startled by my bruised, bloody, pathetic state. Afraid to move me, they immediately called 911. Finally, I was lifted onto a stretcher and taken to the hospital. When I woke up in the hospital, I found my left leg tightly bandaged and in a cast. The doctor told me I had a fractured tibia in my left calf. Fortunately, the displacement wasn’t severe, so it could be treated conservatively. I thanked the doctor, then called the police. Since Brooke was so vicious and disregardful of our sisterly bond, there was no reason for me to be soft-hearted any longer. I submitted the audio recording to the police and explained the full story. The police stated they would contact Brooke and my parents, and would quickly apprehend the thugs who assaulted me. That same evening, Mom and Dad appeared in my hospital room, carrying nutritional supplements and fruit. The moment she saw me, Mom put on a pained expression. “Oh, Willow, is your leg okay? Those damn thugs, they hit so hard!” Dad’s eyes were red-rimmed, and he shook his head, sighing. “My poor darling daughter, you’ve suffered so much. If you needed money, you should have told Dad, why go so far to be a tutor?” I watched them, performing their act, completely unmoved. I knew perfectly well they weren’t pitying my broken leg; they just wanted me to let Brooke off the hook. Sure enough, after three minutes of feigned concern, they began to reveal their true intentions. “Willow, you and Brooke are sisters. Why must you send your sister to jail? We asked Brooke about this, and she said she had no idea; that thug acted on his own to bother you.” “For the sake of family, just give your sister a letter of understanding. She’s still young. If she goes to jail, what will our relatives and friends think of her?” “I know you’re upset, but if you agree to sign the letter of understanding, we’ll immediately take you back to live in the villa. You won’t have to worry about tuition or living expenses; Mom will cover everything.” I let out a cold laugh. “Didn’t know? When I was being beaten, he said it very clearly: he was there to teach me a lesson because I had angered Brooke.” Mom and Dad’s faces changed instantly. Seeing my unwillingness to cooperate, they began to threaten me. “You don’t have money for medical bills now, do you? You even owe the hospital. If you can’t pay, you’ll be kicked out immediately, won’t you?” “Those thugs who beat you once can beat you again. Do you think you’ll be so lucky every time?” I looked at their twisted expressions, silent for a moment, then said flatly: “I’ll sign the letter of understanding, but I have a condition.” Mom eagerly asked, “What condition?” “Tomorrow morning, you’ll sign the agreement to terminate parental rights with me.” The moment I finished speaking, Mom and Dad exchanged a look and readily agreed. A sarcastic smile touched my lips. Sure enough, they didn’t care about me at all; from beginning to end, their only concern was Brooke. The next day, they showed up in my hospital room early. 7 I pulled out the agreement I had prepared, and Mom snatched it, signing her name without even looking. “Alright, it’s signed. Now you can write the letter of understanding, right?” Calmly, I produced the letter of understanding I’d written last night. Dad snatched it, beaming, and he and Mom walked out of the room. After they left, I sent yesterday’s recording to the police. I opened the live stream. Mom and Dad were broadcasting, boasting about my obedience, while saying they were going to take Brooke on a vacation abroad. They walked up to a luxury car. Brooke, decked in jewels and designer clothes, stepped out, smiling for the camera. Just as they were reveling in their triumph, the police suddenly appeared. “Ms. Hayes, you’re involved in a felony assault case. We need you to come down to the station with us.”

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1 As the only daughter of an oil magnate, I’d been cradled in luxury since birth. A decade ago, my father, Mr. Hayes, had brought the sons of the heads of three subsidiary companies into his inner circle, personally grooming them as potential heirs and, more importantly, as my future husband. The plan was set: on the day of my twentieth birthday gala, he would publicly announce my chosen fiancé as his successor. But three days before the gala, I stumbled upon the three of them at our exclusive private club. Jax was grinding wildly with an exotic dancer on the dance floor, his movements crude. Caleb was sprawled on a sofa, shamelessly entangled with a catering staff member. And Aiden, the one I’d harbored a quiet affection for, was locked in a passionate, breathless kiss with Skylar, my supposed best friend. What chilled me to the bone was their blatant disregard, their voices sneering as they openly discussed me: “Tonight, one for each of us—consider it breaking our dry spell. Willow’s such a germaphobe, isn’t she?” “Right? With her body and mental purity complex, no matter which of us she picks, her virginity won’t be her first anyway, hahaha!” Watching the sordid scene unfold, a cold laugh escaped my lips. “Since all three of you are already soiled, then I don’t want any of you!” That very night, I pushed open the heavy door to my father’s study, my voice resolute. “Dad, I want to marry Liam Sterling, the son of the Sterling Oil baron!” My father frowned, his face a mask of disbelief. “You mean… the one rumored to be… less than whole? That timid Mr. Sterling?” He took a long drag from his cigar, his voice trembling. “Sweetheart, I heard Liam Sterling was born missing a crucial part of his manhood, most likely barren! Are you really going to marry him?” My gaze was unwavering. “Yes. That way, after we marry, our two families can form a powerful alliance, and you won’t have to worry about the Hayes dynasty lacking an heir.” My father extinguished his cigar in the ashtray, his tone softening. “But your father cares about your happiness, darling! Why did none of those three scoundrels catch your eye?” The vile images of the three men, their crude words, replayed relentlessly in my mind. My father gently patted my shoulder. “Didn’t you say you had a soft spot for Aiden before? What made you suddenly change your mind?” The thought of Aiden passionately kissing my best friend brought a stinging dampness to my eyes. Seeing my distressed expression, my father pressed no further. He pulled me into his embrace. “Since my Willow has grown up, then your father will respect your decision.” He let out a deep sigh, then left the study. Outside the door, Jax, Caleb, and Aiden stood respectfully, watching him leave. As I stepped out of the study, Jax shot me a venomous glare. Caleb’s voice was cold as he demanded, “Miss Hayes, were you just slandering us to your father again?” Aiden’s face was a mask of reluctance, a flicker of resentment in his eyes. The three of them had been sent to the Hayes estate for training since they were teenagers, groomed as my fiancé candidates. For over a decade, constrained by my father’s influence over their families, they had been forced to play along. Now, Aiden, usually so reserved, spoke with disdain. “Have you already chosen your fiancé?” His gaze pierced me like an icy blade, as if he’d devour me whole if I dared choose him. My patience for them had long run out. My icy gaze swept over their faces. “Don’t worry. I’ve already made my choice.” Before I could finish, Caleb called out, “Wonder which unlucky soul among us will end up joining the Hayes dynasty.” Jax glanced at Aiden, a hint of mock pity in his eyes. “Yeah, Aiden, I think you’re the most likely. After you saved Miss Hayes on the beach last time, she hasn’t been able to take her eyes off you!” Ignoring their taunts, I walked straight towards my room. Their low chuckles drifted from behind me. “You think Miss Hayes would be thrilled if she knew her favorite Aiden was messing around with her best friend?” As my door closed, their figures vanished from my sight. Too bad for them. The three of them had fouled themselves. I wouldn’t choose a single one. 2 I spent that night wide awake, unmistakable sounds continuously drifting from the adjacent room—the rhythmic creaking of a bedframe mixed with a woman’s seductive moans. Through the haze of sleeplessness, I heard Skylar, wrapped around Aiden, cooing, “Aren’t you afraid Willow will find out about us? You’d lose your heir status completely then!” Aiden’s voice, lazy with post-coital satisfaction, drifted back. “So what? She’s just a spoiled heiress. If it weren’t for Mr. Hayes, none of us would even give her a second thought. Even if I marry her, she’ll just be a trophy wife, a pretty face. You’re my true love.” Their crude words grated on my eardrums, a relentless assault, until the sounds slowly subsided with the approach of dawn. I pushed open my door, just in time to see Skylar, wearing Aiden’s white shirt, gingerly waddle out of his room, hand pressed to her lower back. When she bumped into me, her eyes flashed with panic, and she immediately stammered, “Willow, I-I drank too much last night and got sick. Aiden just lent me his shirt. I swear I don’t have any other intentions with him!” “Absolutely not!” My gaze fell upon the undisguised hickeys blooming on her neck, then dropped to her legs, still trembling visibly. A cold smile touched my lips. “Oh? Why the sudden panic?” For years, whenever Aiden was involved, Skylar was always more eager than me. Every time I discussed the candidates for fiancé, she’d subtly steer me towards choosing Aiden. Turns out, they had been involved in secret all along, treating me like a complete fool! A surge of pure fury erupted within me. I lifted my hand and slapped Skylar across the face. Skylar clutched her cheek, staring at me in disbelief. Just then, Aiden suddenly pushed open his door, the powerful rebound sending me crashing against the wall. Skylar, seizing the moment, collapsed into Aiden’s arms, weeping. “I don’t know what I did to upset Willow. She actually hit me.” Aiden instantly pulled Skylar close, his face etched with feigned concern. “Willow, don’t bring your pampered princess act here to bully Skylar! She’s your friend!” His voice hardened. “If you keep acting so irrational, don’t blame me if I publicly reject you as my fiancé at the gala!” My eyes narrowed. He’d truly been spoiled rotten all these years. A manipulative viper and a spineless fool—they truly deserved each other! Still seething, I instinctively raised my hand for another slap, but Caleb suddenly appeared, grabbing my arm with surprising force. Jax positioned himself in front of them both. Their gazes, sharp as poisoned daggers, chilled me to the bone. Caleb spoke, his voice equally cold. “If you continue this irrational behavior, and you choose me, I won’t agree.” Jax quickly followed. “And me, I absolutely won’t agree either!” 3 I stared at the three of them. From childhood, I had always shared everything good to eat, everything fun to do, with them. Over the years, my father had never shortchanged them an inch. Yet, each of them, while claiming not to want to marry me, stubbornly refused to give up their place as a candidate. They wanted to inherit the vast Hayes fortune, but they didn’t want to join my family. Their hypocritical greed was truly sickening. Thankfully, heaven’s mercy allowed me to see through their false faces in advance. I let out a cold laugh, forcefully pulling my hand free from Caleb’s grasp, and walked straight forward. But in a flash, Aiden fiercely grabbed me back, his voice sharp. “Apologize to Skylar!” I turned, meeting Aiden’s furious gaze, and retorted coldly, “Why should I apologize to her?” I tried to pull away from Aiden again, intending to continue walking. But Jax and Caleb instantly blocked my path, malicious intent blazing in their eyes. Skylar, seeing her moment, met my gaze with a triumphant, challenging smirk. The next moment, she suddenly said in a soft voice, “No, please don’t argue with Willow because of me! It’s all my fault, my fault!” Skylar, realizing her advantage, immediately fell to her knees before me, whispering, “Willow, if I’ve done something wrong, please tell me. Don’t take it out on the three of them!” Skylar played the victim role to perfection, further highlighting my supposed arrogance and cruelty. The three men immediately helped her up, then turned on me, their voices filled with rage. “Miss Hayes, do you think everyone is just a toy to you?” “Or do you see us as your personal pets, summoned and dismissed at your whim?!” “Today, you will apologize to Skylar!” I bit back the tears stinging at my eyes, staring at the three of them. My mind replayed their arrival at the Hayes estate when they were just boys. Caleb, who’d been afraid of dogs, had needed my beloved golden retriever rehomed for him to feel comfortable. Jax, when he first arrived, cried secretly every night; I was the one who woke Dad up in the middle of the night to take him to the hospital when he had a fever. And Aiden, who’d been quiet and withdrawn as a child, always had me stepping in to defend him when the staff picked on him. And now, in their eyes, I had become nothing more than a vicious, spoiled brat. It was incredible how ten years of living side-by-side couldn’t compare to a few manipulative words from an outsider. My gaze, cold and detached, swept over all four of them. Then I shouted, “Butler! Are you all blind?!” I called out three times, only to find the butler and the bodyguards standing respectfully to the side, secretly watching Aiden. Over the years, Aiden had become Dad’s favorite, taking over many of Hayes Corporation’s assets. These staff members were always opportunistic; no doubt they already saw Aiden as the next head of the household. And I, the heiress without real power, was little more than a prop. Just then, a voice from the staff called out, “Mr. Hayes has arrived.” Aiden finally released my hand, and the three men stood respectfully behind me. Free at last, I stormed towards the door. This household clearly needed a clean-up, or it might as well be known as the Reynolds estate. But thankfully, tomorrow I would announce my engagement to Liam Sterling. And the three of them would be utterly irrelevant to my life. 4 The next morning, as I woke and got ready, I was surprised to find that my gala gown hadn’t arrived. My phone suddenly rang. I answered, and the frantic voice of the boutique assistant came through. “Miss Hayes, the custom gown you ordered was picked up by Mr. Reynolds earlier.” “Mr. Reynolds said he was your fiancé, so we didn’t stop him.” I hung up, then walked back towards Aiden’s room. This gown was something my father had commissioned a French designer for, starting from my eighteenth birthday, specifically for my grand entrance at my twentieth birthday gala today. The moment I pushed open Aiden’s door, I saw Skylar standing before the full-length mirror, admiring herself, wearing my gown. I immediately roared at her, “Who gave you permission to wear that?!” Skylar instantly flinched, shrinking into Aiden’s embrace. Aiden, in turn, said coldly, “It’s just a dress, isn’t it? Is it really worth all this fuss?” I scoffed at both of them. “It was custom-crafted by French artisans over two years, my father’s gift for my coming-of-age. Does that sound like ‘just a dress’ to you?” Skylar, hearing this, made a show of trying to take it off, but Aiden stopped her with a hand. “Consider it compensation for how you treated Skylar yesterday. Anyway, you’re a germaphobe, so this dress is hers now.” Just as I was about to retort, Aiden’s voice hardened again. “If you don’t agree, don’t blame me if I embarrass you when I’m announced as your fiancé later!” The sheer audacity! He was using my money to pay for his cheap thrills and buy goodwill? How could I swallow such an insult? I grabbed the gown Skylar was wearing, yelling, “Take it off! Now! Get it off!” In that instant, Aiden’s hand lashed out, slapping me across the face as he roared, “You’re going too far, Willow!” I was sent sprawling to the floor, a trickle of blood escaping the corner of my mouth. My eyes welled up with tears. No one had ever dared to lay a hand on me, not once in my entire life! Hearing the commotion, the door was suddenly kicked open. Jax and Caleb rushed in, yelling at me. “It’s just a gown, why are you making such a big deal?!” “Willow, you’re absolutely evil!” Skylar, who moments before had been tearful, now flashed a cunning glint in her eyes. She whispered, “If I strip down, will you let me off? And you won’t blame Aiden or them anymore?” Then, a theatrical sigh. “Willow, I’m sorry. I’ll take it off, I’ll take it off right now.” As Skylar made to remove the gown, all three men stopped her. Aiden then turned his gaze to me, his voice chilling. “Willow, no matter what, I will not be your fiancé today.” Jax and Caleb chimed in in unison, “We won’t agree either.” Aiden then smiled, a lewd grin spreading across his face. “If you’re worried about making a scene, just strip down and apologize to Skylar, and we’ll forgive you!” Caleb and Jax also wore playful, mocking expressions. “That’s right! Strip down, and we’ll agree to be your fiancés!” I couldn’t believe what my ears were hearing. All three of them, humiliating me to this extent, for Skylar! Aiden, Caleb, and Jax closed in on me, their eyes filled with malicious anticipation. Behind them, Skylar’s eyes gleamed with triumph, as if to say, You’re getting what you deserve today, Willow. I even saw her mouth a silent, “You bitch! You deserve it!” They relentlessly pushed me towards the grand staircase, where the entire gathering in the ballroom was already watching. Aiden leaned close to my ear, his breath a foul whisper. “Losing face in front of everyone—consider it your punishment!” The next moment, Aiden stood on the second-floor landing and shouted down to the crowd, “I hereby publicly announce that I voluntarily withdraw from being Miss Hayes’s fiancé!” A collective gasp rippled through the hall. Before anyone could react, Caleb and Jax stood beside me, declaring loudly, “We two also voluntarily withdraw from being Miss Hayes’s fiancé!” The ballroom instantly erupted into a clamor. People whispered amongst themselves. “What’s going on? Is Mr. Hayes’s daughter really so unbearable that all three candidates willingly gave up their spots?” “Now that all three candidates have withdrawn, who will Miss Hayes marry today?!” At that precise moment, Skylar suddenly burst from the room, intentionally bumping into me. Caught off guard, my heel twisted, and I tumbled backward, hurtling towards the edge of the staircase. The guests in the ballroom gasped in horror. In the most important moment of my life, I was being destroyed by the four people I thought I could trust most. I squeezed my eyes shut in despair, bracing for the inevitable pain, the shouts from below growing louder. Just as I thought I was about to plunge down the stairs, I suddenly fell into a warm, strong embrace. The next second, a man’s deep, resonant voice sounded in my ear: “It seems the three of you have some self-awareness. Willow Hayes’s fiancé can only be me!”

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My mom has an IQ of 74, I have an IQ of 142. Yet, she was obsessed with teaching me. She’d say, “Without me, you’re nothing.” “Your brain is so slow, so stupid. You’re in middle school and I still have to watch you every day! Just look at this problem, how could you get it wrong?” “How can 0.11 be less than 0.8? I, such a smart person! How did I give birth to such an idiot like you? A two-digit number, a three-digit number, you can’t even compare their sizes?” She slammed the pencil onto the floor in a fit of rage! “Teaching you is worse than me becoming a college student myself!” So, my 43-year-old mother decided to take the college entrance exams with me. She declared, “You don’t even know which is bigger, 0.11 or 0.8! I’ll show you who’s smarter with my own ability!” 1 I looked up at her, startled. She angrily slapped her cheeks, a sharp thwack each time. “Look, look! Is there writing on my face? Are you going to stare at me until you get smart yourself? Write! What are you dawdling for!” She slammed her foot into my chair. I flinched, trembling all over. Since kindergarten, she had forced me to study every single day. She’d haul home every textbook she could find. Other kids played happily outside, but I was locked in my room, practicing calligraphy. At an age when I could barely hold a pen, I had to write fifty pages of characters daily. Under such high pressure, my grades excelled once I started elementary school. Back then, the English taught in school was incredibly simple, and Mom learned a lot of it alongside me. Plus, with her constant vigilance over my Chinese and math, anyone could have been top of the class. I nervously picked up the fallen pen, but I didn’t want to follow Mom’s instructions to revise the solution steps. Since middle school, I’d noticed that there was a lot she didn’t actually know. So, I cautiously looked up at her and said, “Mom, actually, after the decimal point, you don’t look at the number of digits to compare size.” Mom narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?” I thought this was my chance and quickly continued, “The teacher said that trailing zeros after the decimal point can be omitted, so you just compare the first digit. Then 0.11 is indeed less than 0.8.” Mom’s face instantly contorted with rage. She slapped me across the face. “You’re full of it! How dare you try to use the teacher against me?! You just don’t want to spend more time re-doing this problem, do you?!” She leaned in close, her eyes blazing. “Tell me! Are you dating? Have you been hanging out with delinquents?” I trembled uncontrollably, then burst into sobs. Mom grabbed my lower eyelid between her index and middle fingers, pinching it fiercely. “Do you take me for a fool? Trying to deceive me with such a pathetic lie! I just wasn’t born in a good era, otherwise, I would definitely have been among the first college graduates!” She spat. “You’re living in a good time and you don’t even appreciate it! You’re so ungrateful!” 2 I cried out, howling from Mom’s pinching. The skin under my eyes was thin and tender, and the pinch sent a sharp, agonizing pain through me. I pounded the table, begging her repeatedly, “Mom, I’ll change it! I’ll change it! I’ll change it right now!” Her expression softened slightly. But she still seemed unsatisfied. Crying, I solved the math problem again according to Mom’s logic. Only then did she stand up, preparing to leave. “You’re not allowed to eat dinner tonight, understand? Don’t think you’re better than me just because you started middle school.” She sneered. “I actually went to high school back in the day. In our time, high school was the highest education you could get!” She shook her head in disgust. “With your IQ, if you were born in that era, you wouldn’t even graduate elementary school. But look at you, just started middle school and you think your wings are hard. Dare to use the teacher against me? Hmph, I’m telling you, your teachers probably aren’t as smart as I am!” Mom grew more and more agitated as she spoke. I hadn’t actually disobeyed her again, or made any defiant gestures. But she was always like this: she’d work herself into a rage and then take it out on me. She suddenly lunged forward and punched me hard in the back. “Did you hear me?! Are you deaf?” I nodded repeatedly. “I heard you, Mom.” Only then did she slam the door shut, satisfied, and leave. Mom locked me in my room, forbidding me from drinking water or eating anything. When Dad came home, he asked why I wasn’t out resting. Mom snapped, “His wings are hard! He’s trying to trick me so he can go sneak out and cause trouble!” Dad didn’t say much, made an excuse about running an errand, and left again. Before he left, he secretly slipped fifty dollars under my door. For me, that was a huge sum. I could buy a five-dollar skewer from the school gate, two notebooks with the rest, and even a newly released mechanical pencil. I was both surprised and delighted, tucking the money into my English textbook. Mom never looked at my English book. She despised English, saying we shouldn’t learn it. She said English learners were all fake foreigners, wannabe Westerners, and the most useless things! But strangely, my best subject was always English. 3 At eleven o’clock that night, Mom opened my bedroom door. “So? Do you know you were wrong?” My mind was foggy, and my eyes, still blurred, nodded. “Alright, then bring out all your homework for me to see.” I neatly placed all my homework before her. She checked my math homework and seemed quite pleased. “Hmm, good. You followed my instructions.” She then picked up my Chinese homework, reading my essay word by word. Then she tapped on the desk with clear dissatisfaction. “What do you mean, ‘Behind red doors, wine and meat go to waste’? How can you use that idiom this way? What’s a ‘red door’? A red door is a big red gate, meaning the family is very rich.” She explained with authority. “How rich? So rich that they have more meat than they can eat, and so much wine it spoils because they can’t drink it all. This phrase encourages us to study hard, to be ambitious, to become rich people. Once we’re rich, we can also build big houses, with big yards, and have a big red gate. That way, we can also ‘have wine and meat go to waste behind red doors.’” She paused, staring at me. “Do you understand? What is this nonsense you wrote about ‘wealth disparity’?” Her voice rose. “What is your brain doing all day? So unrealistic, off track. I’m telling you, when you study, study proper history, don’t listen to all those wild, unofficial tales every day.” She glared. “You’re learning a bunch of unpresentable garbage and making a fool of me! Change this section immediately!” I stared at Mom, astonished. The seed of doubt in my heart quickly sprouted new shoots. Had she really gone to school? Why did she give me the impression of pretending to know things she didn’t? But I knew her. I couldn’t defy her edict. So I quickly revised the essay according to her instructions. She nodded. “Good. This way you can maintain your top rank in class.” She sighed dramatically. “Ah, without me, you really are nothing.” She clicked her tongue. “I really want to send you for an IQ test. If your IQ isn’t over a hundred, I don’t think you should even go to school.” She shook her head. “A waste of family money! Ugh…” She grumbled to me for a long time. She talked about how so-and-so’s child got into an elite university and received tens of thousands of dollars in scholarships. Tens of thousands of dollars! That child immediately bought her mother a gold necklace! Getting into a prestigious university felt like a ticket to heaven. “Counting on you is impossible! You, you can probably get into a nursing school, become a little nurse, and that’s it.” She clicked her tongue again. “Tsk, even a little nurse might be hard for you, with that brain of yours.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I think I’ll just secretly have another baby.” She eyed me askance, as if trying to scare me. But she didn’t know I truly hoped she’d have another baby. Because that way, I’d have a way out. 4 The next morning, I went to school very early. Secretly, I changed my Chinese and math homework back to how the teacher had taught us. Only then did I confidently hand them in. The second period was math class. I eagerly waited for Mr. Davies to hand back the homework. I was sure I’d get a perfect score! A perfect score! Mr. Davies walked in, carrying everyone’s homework notebooks. “Our class had a perfect score today!” My heart thumped. “This student is…” He was about to say the name when the classroom door was violently rattled. Mr. Davies put down his books, and I deflated. I lowered my head, looking at my newly bought mechanical pencil. How annoying. Who was it? Interrupting the teacher right after class started. But a familiar voice came from the doorway. It was my mother. What was she doing here? The hairs on the back of my neck stood up instantly. I snapped my head up and saw Mom staring at me, triumphantly. “Mr. Davies, is it? Hello, I’m Mrs. Reynolds, Willow’s mother. I know this is your class right now, so I made a special trip.” Her voice was firm. “There are some things I must make clear, right here, in front of you and the entire class.” Mr. Davies politely nodded. “I understand, Mrs. Reynolds, but could you possibly wait until after class—” Mom gave the teacher no chance. She pushed him aside and arrogantly marched to the front of the classroom. “I can’t wait! For our Willow’s future, I must teach her a lesson!” Then, she picked up a piece of chalk and wrote two numbers clearly and boldly on the blackboard: 0.11, 0.8. She waved her hand grandly, as if she were the teacher. “Students, I’m sure you all know which of these two numbers is bigger or smaller!” Some students in the audience snickered, others whispered. “Of course we know, it’s such a simple question.” “Yeah, I knew that in first grade.” “Does Willow really not know?” “Huh? The class president doesn’t know? Hahahaha, that’s hilarious. Why is she even class president?” “Seriously, if she doesn’t even know this, she should just step down. Let’s elect a new one.” All eyes flickered to me. A suffocating, terrifying feeling, like storm clouds before a tempest, pressed down on me! Mr. Davies, trying to spare my embarrassment, stepped forward to pull Mom away. “Mrs. Reynolds, I think we should discuss this after class. Willow is also…” Mom gave him no face, pushing Mr. Davies back with a stumble. “I’ll manage my child however I want! You’re clearly setting her up for failure!” Mr. Davies’s face flushed with anger. He turned and walked out of the classroom, presumably to find the head of the department. Mom looked at me triumphantly. “Do you know what our Willow told me?” The students, eager for more drama, were thrilled. “What? What did she say?” “Did she say they’re both the same size? Hahahaha!” Mom waved her hand dismissively. “Her? She actually told me that 0.8 is greater than 0.11!” In that instant, the classroom fell completely silent.

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After a furious argument with Asher Voss, he slammed the door shut. Just then, bullet comments flickered before my eyes: 【The protagonist doesn’t know, but the male lead was trembling all over when he slammed the door.】 【Oh no, protagonist, go after him! He’s hiding in his car crying.】 【Waaah, the male lead’s eyes are red, he’s really about to break.】 Normally, I’d be swayed by the comments, humbling myself to appease Asher. But at this moment, I was simply exhausted, body and soul. Asher seemed to never learn how to actively love someone else. 1 I dragged my weary body home, my shoulders so sore I could barely lift them. In my hand, the late-night meal I’d picked up for Asher dug into my palm, turning it red through the plastic bag. But the moment I stepped inside, before I could utter a single word, a torrent of abuse rained down on me. “Olivia, how dare you show your face this late? Do you know I’ve been starving this whole time?” “Do you even care about me at all?” “All you ever do is busy yourself with those pathetic jobs!” Usually, I’d defend myself, but now I was too tired even to speak. I placed the food on the table, my voice soft. “Please eat something, okay, Asher?” Asher’s face was cold as he opened the takeout box. The next second, he abruptly stood up, flipping the table with a loud BANG. Food and drinks splattered across the floor, turning the room into an instant mess. Our favorite matching ceramic mugs lay in shards. A few sharp pieces grazed my calf, leaving thin red marks. His anger spent, Asher’s eyes were bloodshot. He spoke each word distinctly: “What kind of woman comes home almost midnight? Who knows if you’ve been fooling around with some guy? I just asked if you cared about me, and you didn’t even deny it. You clearly don’t love me!” I stared at Asher, dumbfounded, finding it utterly absurd. In the past, whenever he questioned me, I’d hold him, repeating my declarations of love over and over. But now, the bullet comments lit up again: 【Waaah, Asher’s just a man who lacks security.】 【Protagonist, what are you standing there for? Tell him you love him!】 【The male lead doesn’t have an omniscient view, how would he know you love him if you don’t say it?】 2 A booming CRASH, the door slamming shut, echoed jarringly in the silent dead of night. I instinctively glanced at the time. It was past midnight. It should have been time for sleep, but instead, I had to crouch down and clean up the wreckage. Asher was always like this: erupting in anger, then simply walking away, leaving the mess for me. The ache in my lower back grew more pronounced. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. My heart fluttered: Could it be Asher, coming back? Would he apologize? Clutching this hope, I opened the door, only to be met by our neighbor, a burly man who exercised regularly. His imposing figure intimidated me slightly. He launched straight into a furious reprimand: “What’s all that noise about, late at night? Are you brainless? You young people don’t sleep, but others need to! Make one more sound, and I’ll knock your teeth out!” I instinctively gripped the doorframe, my body trembling uncontrollably, forcing myself to bow my head and apologize repeatedly. I was alone in the house, and a feeling of utter helplessness instantly overwhelmed me. The neighbor grumpily pushed past me. “What are you crying about? Tell your man to come out and face me!” He peered into the house, and when he saw the mess, a strange flicker crossed his eyes. He hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Do you want me to call the police? You shouldn’t stay with a man with a violent temper.” I offered a bitter, shaky smile, shaking my head. At that moment, the bullet comments buzzed again: 【This old man doesn’t know anything, pfft.】 【He just flipped a table to let off some steam, what’s that, domestic violence?】 【Asher’s been starving, so what if he lost his temper a bit?】 3 The neighbor gave me a deep, lingering look before he left, finally shaking his head. I closed the door, and silence descended upon the house once more. A long time ago, I learned from the bullet comments that I was the protagonist of a sweet romance novel, and Asher was my destined male lead. We were meant to be together for eight years before marrying. Asher was described as proud, possessive, and arrogant, while I was gentle and obedient, destined to accompany him through his struggles and slowly melt his heart with my love. With my encouragement, he would rise, becoming a billionaire through sheer effort and luck, and I would become the envied wife of a magnate. In the novel’s ending, I was supposedly the happiest woman. But my reality with Asher was far from smooth. We constantly argued over trivial things, and each time, I had to be the one to humble myself and seek reconciliation. If I didn’t speak up, he would never make the first move. The chat always said Asher was a twisted, unloved person who needed me to take the initiative and apologize. But after countless times, I was utterly exhausted, and he only grew worse. Just like now, the bullet comments relentlessly urged me: 【The protagonist doesn’t even know, the male lead was trembling all over when he slammed the door.】 【Oh no, protagonist, go after him! He’s hiding in his car crying.】 【Waaah, the male lead’s eyes are red, he’s really about to break.】 I finished cleaning up and sat on the sofa, too drained to move. Seeing my inaction, the chat grew frantic: 【Still not going? This woman is so dramatic.】 【The male lead’s crying, and she’s still sulking.】 【Waaah, poor Asher, my heart aches for him.】 I looked at the bullet comments, and suddenly, a laugh escaped me. Was it really my fault? 4 These past few days. Mornings spent rushing for interviews. Lunch breaks delivering meals to my hospitalized mother. Afternoons busy writing news reports. For ten consecutive days, I’d been working overtime. Yet, despite all this, I rarely complained. Today, I worked until ten at night. The only light in the entire building seemed to emanate from my computer screen. I drove for half an hour to get home, utterly drained. Pushing open the door, I was met with Asher’s sullen face. I forced myself to suppress my exhaustion, offering a small smile, and instinctively linked my arm through his. “What’s wrong, Asher?” He abruptly pulled his arm away, his tone accusatory. “Why aren’t you replying to my messages?” He scoffed. “No matter how busy you are, you can’t go two hours without replying, can you?” That’s when it hit me. I had left my phone charging since around eight, and hadn’t unplugged it. Of course, I hadn’t brought it with me. Luckily, I had turned off the main power before I left. My phone being plugged in wasn’t a problem. I lowered my voice, attempting to explain. “I’m sorry, I left my phone charging and didn’t see anything.” My voice soft, I added, “Asher, what did you send? Was it urgent?” Asher’s eyes suddenly sharpened, his voice cold. “Two hours without looking at your phone? Who are you trying to fool?” He narrowed his eyes. “You probably weren’t even working overtime.” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “I have facial recognition clock-out at work. I can go to the office tomorrow and get you a screenshot.” My voice was a hopeful plea. “How about that?” I tried to move closer to Asher, but he kept his face cold, deliberately shifting away. No matter what I said, he remained silent. He was always like this. Sulking by himself. At that moment, I saw the bullet comments. 【Ahhh, Asher’s so tsundere, I just love a proud, difficult man.】 【He cares so much about his wife, he just wants her to prove how much she cares about him.】 【Oh my god, I love this kind of male lead so much!】 The standoff lasted for fifteen minutes. I was the one who finally gave in. I grabbed my car keys and left. The night seemed to deepen around me. 5 At past eleven, the office was so quiet I could only hear my own breathing. I unlocked my phone and opened the chat with Asher. “Been gaming ’til now, starving. Olivia, pick up a KFC family bucket for me tonight.” The bullet comments exploded. 【Wow, he’s so grown and still eating family buckets, the male lead really hasn’t lost his childlike heart.】 【Help, this contrast is amazing.】 【Why is he inexplicably adorable?!】 In the darkness, the screen’s light stung my eyes. So that was why Asher was angry. A family bucket. I returned to my car, slumping weakly into the seat. Exhaustion washed over me. He could have just told me directly. That way, he would have eaten sooner, and I wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble. But Asher was always like this. Making me guess. Making me coax him. Draining me. I often thought that in a relationship, even if I put in more effort, it didn’t matter. But why was it always like this? Why would he never take the initiative? Would it kill him to say a few more words? My silence made the bullet comments impatient; they began to urge me. 【Go home already, Asher’s waiting for you at the door.】 【He’s been starving all this time, so heartbreaking.】 Starving? I instinctively touched my aching stomach. Who wasn’t starving right now? Why did the chat only care about Asher? Was it just because he was the male lead? In the end, I still went to KFC. And on the way, I bought some BBQ too. But all of it was overturned by Asher before I could eat. His reason for exploding? “Why isn’t there any Original Recipe chicken?” He glared. “Olivia, you did this on purpose, didn’t you?” I struggled to keep my voice steady. “The staff said they were out today, so they substituted it with an equivalent amount of chicken wings.” I pleaded. “Asher, please make do for now, okay? We can get it tomorrow.” Asher didn’t listen at all, just kept sulking. “If you’d gone at ten, would they have been out?” He snarled. “Couldn’t you have gone to a few more KFCs? I don’t believe every KFC in the city was out.” He added, his voice laced with contempt, “You just don’t care about me.” He unleashed a barrage of accusations, shoving all the blame onto me. Then he slammed the door and left. The bullet comments tirelessly defended him. In that moment, my heart turned to ash. Thinking of all this, I shook my head in weary resignation. This time, I was truly tired. But I had no time for sadness. There was an interview waiting for me tomorrow morning. I had to finish the draft tonight. My original plan was to eat something quick after getting home, work for an hour, then rest. Now, after all the drama, it was nearly one AM, and my work wasn’t done. I opened my laptop, my eyes almost closing from exhaustion. The screen’s light stung them. I forced myself to fight off sleep and began to work. My phone suddenly lit up. 6 For a brief moment, I actually hoped it was an apology from Asher. Even then, if Asher just lowered his head, I would soften and comfort him. My hand trembling, I unlocked the screen. It was a message from Scarlett. She was Asher’s childhood friend. “Sis-in-law, Asher and I are eating BBQ~ Please don’t overthink it, sis-in-law.” It came with a photo. Asher was smiling naturally, making a peace sign for the camera. I glanced at the BBQ in the trash can, feeling only a bitter irony. I replied: “Okay.” The bullet comments exploded. 【Is the protagonist an idiot? Can’t she tell the male lead is deliberately trying to make her jealous?】 【If you don’t comfort him, plenty of others will!】 【What’s the protagonist waiting for? Go apologize quickly!】 I flipped my phone face down on the table, throwing myself fully into my work. At two in the morning, I finally finished. After a quick shower, I lay down. Just as I did, the bullet comments appeared again. 【The tsundere male lead posted on social media!】 【Hahahaha, he’s deliberately trying to provoke the protagonist.】 【Oh no, protagonist, hurry and comfort the male lead.】 I opened my social media to see Asher’s post. Three photos. One was a selfie of him and Scarlett. One was a photo of the BBQ. One was a picture of them clinking glasses. In that moment, my throat felt terribly dry. My heart clenched, and I could barely breathe. I murmured to myself, “Asher, you’ve never posted anything about me on social media before.” The bullet comments seemed to hear me, scrambling to explain Asher’s actions. 【He doesn’t post photos with her because he’s afraid others will covet his wife.】 【Oh, the protagonist is so clueless. The male lead is dropping such obvious hints.】 【Dumb protagonist, just send a video call, and the male lead will come running back.】 I opened the chat with Asher. Three years of dating. My greetings always came first, and the last goodnight was always mine. Aside from asking me to run errands or do tasks, Asher almost never initiated contact with me. Years of love suddenly crumbled under the weight of it all. Why did the chat keep insisting Asher loved me, even tirelessly making excuses for him? My eyelids couldn’t stay open. The second before I closed my eyes, the comments were still urging me to go find Asher. 7 That sleep was anything but peaceful. In my dream, I walked down the aisle in a wedding gown, arm in arm with Asher, stepping into marriage amidst a shower of flowers. In this dream, Asher had become a business tycoon, surrounded by an endless stream of other women. Yet, he only had eyes for me. Even so, I was constantly worried Asher might stray. Noticing my anxiety, he’d lovingly ruffle my hair. “My Willow, so worried about me? Why don’t you just stay by my side always?” And so it went. To be with Asher every day, I quit my job and became his personal assistant at his company. The bullet comments scrolled by in unison. 【Wow, it’s a happy ending!】 【So sweet!】 【Oh, they’ll have office play every day now, so excited!】 The dream felt too real. I had become the type of woman who was constantly jealous, who would even give up her career just to cling to Asher. I woke up in a cold sweat. Was this truly the ending of a “sweet romance novel”? Was this a “happy ending”? I stared blankly at the ceiling until my eight AM alarm rang. I sat up, about to get out of bed, and saw a flurry of condemning bullet comments. 【Heartless woman! The male lead didn’t sleep all night!】 【The male lead waited all night after messaging the protagonist.】 【He’s really going to die of anger because of the protagonist.】 My eyes widened. Asher messaged me? What could it be? I opened the chat. My blood seemed to freeze. Two videos. In the first, Asher and Scarlett were arm in arm, singing a love song in a karaoke bar. Under the dim lights, they exchanged suggestive glances. In the second video, they were intimately close on a hotel bed, the background clearly a nearby hotel. My stomach churned. I thought Asher had finally developed a conscience. Turns out he had none at all. The bullet comments, seeing my reaction, started explaining. 【Protagonist, don’t misunderstand! The male lead just filmed a video and then told his childhood friend to leave.】 【Don’t worry, our male lead belongs only to the protagonist.】 【The male lead is a good man, he would definitely remain faithful.】 I clutched my phone, feeling only bitter irony. They could spin this as deep love. How much did the chat love the male lead? I couldn’t take it anymore. I sent Asher a breakup text. After countless arguments, Asher always threw out “if it’s not working, let’s break up.” This was the first time I had sent it. He was the chosen one in this novel, destined for success. But I wouldn’t compromise myself again. At the same time, the bullet comments scrolled frantically: 【Drama queen! She’s so ungrateful for such a good male lead.】 【It’s just an argument, why bring up breaking up?】 【She’ll regret it. How many people wish they had such a good man?】 Asher didn’t reply. Of course. He was always too proud. Never bowing his head. But breaking up with Asher was far from as easy as I’d imagined. I had underestimated the “setting.” 8 Mid-morning meeting, my phone kept ringing. I thought it was an emergency, so I stepped out of the conference room. A furious male voice roared from the other end. “Olivia Reed, you dared to break up with Asher? Do you know how heartbroken he is? You’re a heartless bitch!” He scoffed. “I don’t know what Asher ever saw in you. I order you to make up with him immediately!” It was Asher’s brother’s voice. I sneered. “Wasn’t I good to Asher? He ate my food, lived in my house, I always encouraged him to get his act together, and I always appeased him after every argument. What about him?” The man’s voice rose. “So what? He’s just not good at expressing himself. As his girlfriend, it’s your job to be more understanding!” “…” I hung up, irritated. Asher’s brother was just like Asher. Quickly, I threw myself back into my work. But another call interrupted me. It was my mother. The moment I answered, she launched into a furious tirade. “You ungrateful girl, you dared to break up with Asher? You must have a death wish!” She screeched. “He’s a top university graduate, and you, a mere community college student, dare to be picky?” She threatened. “Don’t bother bringing me food today, I’d rather starve to death than eat anything you bring!” I hung up, fuming. But all day long, I was bombarded with messages from various people. My friend: “You should be thankful you found someone as handsome and capable as Asher.” My father: “What right do you have to break up with Asher? If you insist on breaking up, I’ll disown you.” … My emotions completely shattered. Leaving my desk at eight, my phone rang again. I couldn’t control myself anymore. I screamed into the phone, “Are you all done?! Asher’s so great, why don’t you go be with him?!” “Excuse me, miss.” A deep, magnetic male voice interrupted me. “You seem to be in great need of assistance.” He continued, his voice calm and professional. “This is the Voss Emotional Wellness Center. You’re always welcome.” Then, kindly, “Have a pleasant day.” 9 In the past, I’d scoffed at such advertisements. But today, as if guided by an unseen force, I found myself at the door of the wellness center. Pushing the door open, I was greeted by a faint scent of jasmine. Instantly, the day’s fatigue seemed to melt away. A man in a white coat sat there, looking refined and handsome. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and offered a gentle smile. “Hello, miss. Welcome to the Voss Wellness Center. How can I help you?” I hesitated for a moment, then spoke honestly. “Hello. I just… I want to talk about my ex-boyfriend. I broke up with him, but everyone around me is telling me to get back with him, and I’m really confused.” The man raised an eyebrow. “What about your boyfriend made you unable to tolerate him?” I paused, then lowered my head and said, “I don’t think he truly loves me. He never comforts me, and he never takes the initiative to apologize.” The man suddenly chuckled. “That’s not a flaw. Many twisted, unloved people are like that. The more they fear loss, the more they fear expressing themselves.” Is that true? I froze. I’d seen these words in the bullet comments countless times. Just then, the man in the white coat handed me an iPad. “Madam, take a look at these case studies.” He gestured to the screen. “Mrs. Evans, her husband smoked and drank heavily, and she was forced to inhale secondhand smoke. She died of lung cancer at a young age.” Another example. “Ms. Davis, left disabled by domestic violence, now relies on a wheelchair.” Another. “Mrs. Lee, her husband took her money and squandered it on other women.” He paused, looking at me. “Your boyfriend…” he said slowly, “doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, has no bad habits. Are you going to break up with him just because he’s not good with words?” 10 Leaving the counseling office, a stronger sense of unease welled within me. This session. It was just like everyone else around me. Urging me to reconcile with Asher. The bullet comments lit up. 【The protagonist doesn’t know how good she has it. Where can you find such a good man?】 【What a great guy, if you don’t want him, give him to me!】 【Protagonist, you’re just being dramatic. You’ll regret this later.】 But was Asher really a good man? Weren’t his so-called virtues just what any normal person should possess? Back home, I slumped to the floor, powerless. The bullet comments were vicious. 【The protagonist is so ungrateful.】 【So annoying. The second female lead is much better suited for the male lead.】 【Such a small matter, and the protagonist refuses to humble herself.】 A buzzing filled my ears. It was all the blame from those around me. “Asher is such a good man, Willow, why don’t you appreciate him?” “Good men are hard to find. You need to hold onto him.” “Stop acting. Asher choosing you is a blessing from eight lifetimes.” I hugged my knees, a bitter ache spreading in my chest. Why? Why was everyone on Asher’s side? Why did everyone praise Asher? Why did everyone think I was punching above my weight? A heavy stone pressed on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I always felt like I was being pushed, little by little, into an abyss. Until the jarring ring of my phone broke through. It was Asher. “Olivia, come for hotpot.” Not a question. An order. No apology, no explanation. My brain started warring with itself. Reason told me that a last-minute dinner invitation like this should be ignored. Emotion told me it was the first time he had ever actively invited me to dinner. The bullet comments: 【The male lead, I could cry.】 【The male lead bowed his head! He’s so utterly in love with the protagonist.】 【Protagonist, go quickly!】 After much deliberation, I went. Even if we truly broke up, it should be done face to face. A dignified farewell, I told myself. 11 The moment I entered the hotpot restaurant, the rich aroma of beef tallow hit me. This was a trendy hotpot place that had just opened. For someone who loved spicy food, it was a treasure. Asher knew I loved spicy food. He must have done his research. The bullet comments: 【The male and female leads are making up, time for some sweet romance again!】 【Look, the protagonist’s lips are curling up.】 【Sisters, it’s on!】 I pushed open the door to the private room, and the first person I saw was Asher – and his childhood friend, Scarlett. She wore a white dress, a radiant smile on her face. Asher sat beside her, silent. It was Scarlett who stood up, enthusiastically pulling me to the seat on the right. She sat between me and Asher, completely unfazed. Scarlett took my hand. “Sis-in-law, Asher asked me to mediate.” She beamed. “I can vouch for us—nothing happened last night, okay?” She leaned in close. “Asher, he only has eyes for you, sis-in-law.” My face grew increasingly grim. I asked, without mercy, “If he only has eyes for me, why did he send you to explain?” Scarlett’s face stiffened, but she quickly recovered her sweet smile. She picked up a glass of juice from the table and poured it into my cup. “Oh, you know how men are, not good with words…” I hated orange juice. Asher knew perfectly well I only drank cola. Scarlett’s words were cut short by Asher’s cold interruption. “Why are you explaining so much? People who understand me will understand.” The bullet comments echoed Asher’s sentiment. 【Oh, the male lead is afraid the protagonist won’t believe him, so he deliberately brought a side character as a witness. Why is she still making a fuss?】 【She won’t listen to explanations. The protagonist is so dramatic.】 【My words might be harsh, but this protagonist is impossible to deal with.】 12 The server came in with the hotpot base. I looked at the vibrant red tomato broth, and my mood grew even colder. Scarlett covered her mouth, giggling. “Oh, surely no girl can resist a tomato hotpot, right?” I completely ignored her, looking at Asher, my patience wearing thin. “Asher, you know I only like spicy broth. Why couldn’t you order a split pot?” Scarlett tried to interject. “Oh, sis-in-law, I…” I cut her off directly. “I’m asking Asher.” Asher frowned, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. “Scarlett can’t handle spicy food. Besides, what’s wrong with eating tomato hotpot? You don’t consider anyone else. You’re so selfish.” “I’m selfish?” I abruptly stood up. “Asher, I’m allergic to tomatoes. Don’t tell me you ‘didn’t know’ again.” My voice rose. “You considered Scarlett’s inability to smell spice, but you ‘forgot’ about my tomato allergy? I truly overestimated you.” The last sentence I screamed. Asher’s face stiffened. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “Olivia, don’t speak so loudly. What if you disturb the people next door?” I actually laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. In that moment, I saw the man before me clearly. Selfish. Hypocritical. Twisted. “We’re done, Asher.” As I turned to leave, I heard Scarlett’s feigned persuasion, and Asher’s casual “Suit yourself.” Walking out of the hotpot restaurant, the night wind blew, and I shivered involuntarily. The bullet comments popped up again, criticizing me. 【It’s just a hotpot base, is it really worth it?】 【The male lead definitely knows about your tomato allergy, he’s just trying to get your attention.】 【The protagonist really doesn’t know what’s good for her.】 But I didn’t want to read a single word of it. It was absurd. The chat always made excuses for Asher. Asher gave me the silent treatment, and the chat said he wasn’t good with words. Asher couldn’t remember my preferences, and the chat said he was trying to make me jealous. Asher used Scarlett to anger me, and the chat said he brought her as a witness. These bullet comments were truly obsessed with the male lead. I pulled out my phone and blocked all of Asher’s contacts. The bullet comments were still going. 【Protagonist, you’re just being dramatic. You’ll regret this later.】 【Just wait and see, the male lead will be a billionaire later, he could give you endless wealth.】 【He’s practically giving you this good fortune, and you don’t want it, you stupid woman.】 How ridiculous. Why did they think my happiness revolved around having a rich husband? I wanted to sever all ties with Asher. But things were far from as simple as I’d imagined. 13 The next day at work, rumors ran rampant. Everyone looked at me with disdain. It wasn’t until I overheard a conversation in the break room that I realized the news of my breakup with Asher had spread throughout the company. In their eyes, I was the one who had brutally dumped Asher. “Olivia Reed really has a way with people. She pursued a high-flyer and then just dropped him.” “Oh, Olivia finally broke up with Asher, does that mean I have a chance?” “That top student, so handsome. Why would Olivia break up with him?” I spun around, confronting the speakers. That’s when I learned what had happened. Asher had posted on social media yesterday: “Never mind. I’ll let her go. I really don’t deserve her.” A sad caption paired with a selfie, and countless fangirls flooded his comments with sympathy. One of my colleagues, who was Asher’s former classmate, had championed him, spreading gossip about me everywhere. In her version of events, I became the heartless woman. At the same time, various contacts on my phone began sending me messages. My homeroom teacher: “Olivia, I’m very disappointed in you.” A classmate: “Olivia, you have no taste. Asher is a stock with huge potential.” My best friend: “Olivia, honestly, did you fall for someone else? No way, there can’t be anyone better than Asher in the world.” The bullet comments, seeing this, gloated. 【Those involved are blind, those standing by see clearly.】 【Everyone gets it except the protagonist.】 【The protagonist is truly deluded.】 14 None of this was anything. Until my boss called me into his office. He looked at me with displeasure. “Olivia Reed, you’re fired.” His voice was cold. “The company’s morale cannot be affected by someone like you.” I slammed my hand on the desk, demanding loudly, “What did I do wrong? I pull all-nighters writing news, I’m always the first to drive to accident scenes, I consistently secure exclusive stories for the station! Why are you firing me?!” My boss’s face remained cold. He irritably slapped a file onto my face. “Someone like you, who can’t even handle a basic relationship, what else can you handle?” I stood frozen, a cold sweat breaking out across my body. Why was everyone in the company also biased towards Asher? They didn’t even know Asher. At that moment, the bullet comments were ecstatic. 【Oh no, the protagonist lost her job. Now she’ll have to obediently return to the male lead.】

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The scene of my older brother, James, bleeding profusely after being hit by a stray bullet in the library, stung my eyes. Yet, I, who was passing by, chose to ignore it, even quickening my pace to flee the scene. This was because, in my previous life, I had frantically rushed him to the hospital. James had suffered a severe head injury and cranial bleeding, urgently needing surgery. At that critical moment, I called our mother, Dr. Elena Hayes, the city’s top neurosurgeon, pleading with her to come to the hospital immediately. But she, believing I was merely jealous of her taking my adopted sister, Chloe, to the beach, accused me of fabricating the story of James’s injury. No matter how much I begged, she refused to return. By the time my father and other family members arrived at the hospital, James had already passed away, having missed the crucial window for rescue. Our entire family blamed me for James’s death, convinced that I had deliberately misled Mom and delayed his treatment. Mom, rushing back from out of town, completely broke down, pushing me down a flight of stairs, leaving me to bleed out and die. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day James was shot in the library. 1 The few seconds I lingered at the library entrance, the shocking crimson exploded in my vision, terrifyingly similar to the bloodstain that spread after my head hit the ground when Mom pushed me down the stairs in my previous life. Countless images flashed through my mind: the clamor of voices in the hospital corridor, Mom’s icy glare, Dad’s furious shouts, and the desperate sensation of freefall as I plunged. I spun around, sprinting in the opposite direction with all my might, hailing a taxi and diving inside. Even in the back seat, my body trembled uncontrollably. Chloe’s parents had died in an earthquake, saving my brother. Orphaned, she was taken in by Mom and Dad. From that day on, she became the family’s little princess, while I became an extra, a burden. Even James, who once doted on me, only showed tenderness to Chloe. No matter what I did or said, in their eyes, it was wildly wrong. In my previous life, I desperately tried to explain my true intention of saving James, explaining that Mom had misunderstood everything. But they not only refused to believe me; they even thought James being shot was a sinister plot I had orchestrated – such an absurd accusation, yet they swallowed it whole. In this life, I would never meddle again. After all, James knew Chloe was bullying me at school, yet he always stood by and did nothing. When I pushed open the front door, I heard Dad’s cheerful self-congratulation. “These shrimps are really big, Chloe will definitely love them.” He hummed happily. “I’ll stew some black chicken soup for her when she gets back. She’s looked a bit thin lately, needs some extra nourishment.” It wasn’t until I reached the dining room entrance that Dad looked up and saw me. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a stern expression. “Sophia Hayes, I told you to buy some crabs. What took you so long? What time is it?! Where were you wandering off to? What if the seafood isn’t fresh and she gets sick? Can’t you be more responsible?” I stood at the doorway, still clutching the bag of crabs, which felt impossibly heavy. I lowered my head and mumbled, “Traffic was a bit bad…” “Traffic? Are you the only person in this entire city who got stuck in traffic?” Dad’s voice grew increasingly impatient. “You’re so sensitive. Say two words to you and you get upset, like a clam. You’re nothing like Chloe, who’s so sensible and considerate.” Ever since Chloe came into this family, such comparisons had been constant. My every move, every expression, was always measured against hers, always concluding that I was inferior. Looking at the undisguised disappointment on my father’s face, I tightened my grip on the bag, my nails digging deep into my palms. Suddenly, the phone on the cutting board rang urgently. Dad picked it up, his voice easy and cheerful. “Hello? Oh, it’s Mr. Davis from the library. Hello, hello…” The next second, his voice abruptly changed pitch. “What? Shot? Library? James?!” He hung up, his face ashen. “Your brother got into trouble at the library. The teacher told us to go quickly.” I feigned ignorance, following him as he rushed out of the house. We sped towards City Central Hospital. 2 This hospital was horribly familiar to me—Mom was a celebrity doctor here, a leading authority in neurosurgery. The operating room doors were already surrounded by family: grandparents on both sides were present. Grandma Grace wiped tears from her eyes, pointing at me, her voice choked. “You have the nerve to show your face! James is in such a bad state, where were you?!” Grandpa Frank, though silent, looked at me with immense disappointment and condemnation. Grandpa Robert, supporting Grandma Rose, also cast a blaming glance. “Exactly! Why weren’t you with your brother at the library? How dangerous for him to be out alone!” Dad stood beside them, his eyes full of accusation. I felt like a target, pierced by countless gazes. In this life, I chose to stand by, to avoid involvement, yet I still became the scapegoat—it seemed no matter what I did, in their eyes, it was always wrong. I lowered my head, murmuring defensively, “I didn’t know James would get into trouble. I’ll go call Mom, she’s working overtime at the hospital anyway…” Hearing the words “call Mom,” Dad’s eyes instantly panicked. He grabbed me. “Your mom’s busy. Don’t disturb her.” Busy doing what? Probably with Chloe, pearl diving and making necklaces in Seaside City. In my previous life, it was at this point that I found out Mom had taken time off to vacation with Chloe. The entire family knew she wasn’t in town, but they’d hidden it from me. Grandma Rose looked at Dad disapprovingly. “No matter how busy she is, can it be more important than James’s surgery? Call Dr. Elena Hayes immediately! Tell her to come here at once!” “That’s right, that’s right,” Grandpa Frank chimed in. “Such a big thing. What could be more important than this? Call her now!” I pretended to frantically pull out my phone and dial. I called over a dozen times, but no one picked up. “What’s wrong with Elena?! James is like this, and she won’t even answer her phone!” Grandma Rose grew more frantic, her voice laced with dissatisfaction towards Mom. Dad quickly tried to smooth things over. “Mom, she might be in surgery. You know, once she’s in the operating room, she can’t pay attention to anything else.” However, just as he finished speaking, the call connected. “Didn’t I tell you? Don’t disturb me unless it’s important! Sophia Hayes, are you insane?! Don’t you know I’m busy here?!” I gripped my phone, my voice small and shaky. “Mom, James was shot. He’s at your hospital, outside the operating room. Please come quickly…” I hadn’t finished speaking when she cut me off with a scoff. “Ha, shot? Don’t curse James like that!” Her voice was sharp. “James is perfectly fine, studying for his exams at the library. How could he be shot?! If he doesn’t do well, it’s all because of your jinx!” She didn’t believe me. It was exactly the same as in my previous life. “Mom, it’s true! James really was shot! Right outside the operating room here! So much blood…” My voice cracked. “It’s true, Elena, please come!” My anxious grandmother, standing beside me, also shouted into the phone. Mom’s voice instantly turned cold, tinged with obvious displeasure. “Mom, Sophia Hayes is being childish and talking nonsense, and you’re joining in the commotion?” Her voice was dismissive. “Forget it, I don’t have time for this with you all. I’m busy with work. I’m hanging up.” The call was abruptly ended. “What could be more important than James’s life?! She’s completely insane!” Grandma Rose clutched her chest, her voice trembling. Dad tried to explain, “Mom, Elena really might have something extremely important…” Just then, a nurse rushed out of the operating room, her face anxious. “Are you Dr. Hayes’s family?” She cried urgently. “Quickly, call her back! The patient has severe cranial bleeding; the situation is critical! Only she can perform the surgery!” She wrung her hands. “But she’s off duty today and not at the hospital.” Dad instantly panicked, looking helplessly at Grandma Rose and Grandpa Frank. Grandpa Frank stomped his foot, yelling, “What are you standing there for?! Call your wife back at once!” His voice was filled with righteous indignation. “She even dared to lie about working!” This time, the call connected quickly. Noisy background sounds filtered through the phone. Chloe’s happy shouts were heard. “Mom, we only need 10 more pearls for a necklace! Keep diving!” Mom’s voice was filled with doting affection. “Okay, Mom will keep diving for you.” Dad frantically spoke into the phone. “Elena, please come back! James was shot! He has cranial bleeding and needs your surgery!” There were a few seconds of silence on the other end, then Mom’s displeased voice came through. “Are you messing around too? Is that ungrateful Sophia Hayes talking nonsense again? She can’t go a day without causing trouble!” She scoffed. “How many times have I told you, don’t believe a word she says!” I stood by, listening to their conversation, feeling a chilling coldness spread through me. It was Chloe who was habitually lying, always framing me, and I was always speechless. Dad’s voice was pleading. “Elena, I’m begging you, this time it’s real! James is really dying, please come back and see him!” Mom’s voice showed hesitation. “Robert, then I…” Just then, Chloe’s voice came through the phone again, tinged with a hint of a whine. “Oh, I just wanted a pearl necklace! Sis is bringing the whole family to mess things up.” Her voice turned dramatic. “Never mind, Mom, I don’t want it anymore. After all, I’m just an adopted daughter, not as important as my sister.” Mom’s attitude instantly hardened. “Alright, stop it. I’ll be back tonight. Stop trying to trick me using James!” She snapped. “He’s tough as nails, what could possibly happen to him!” Grandma Rose couldn’t take it anymore and roared into the phone. “Elena, do you have any conscience?! James is fighting for his life, and you’re still thinking about that adopted daughter!” She shrieked. “Are you saying all of us are lying to you?! Is James’s life less important than a string of pearls?!” Mom’s voice was now full of impatience. “Alright, Mom, Chloe is my darling, no less important than James. I’ll be back soon, don’t push me!” She added, viciously. “Sophia Hayes is selfish and a liar, don’t believe her!” She hung up again, leaving behind a group of anxiously waiting family members outside the operating room. This time, Grandma Rose and Grandpa Frank were clearly furious. They couldn’t believe Mom was so reckless. For an adopted daughter, she disregarded her own son’s life. And I stood by, watching their anxious and angry expressions, feeling surprisingly calm. In my previous life, I had done everything I could to save James’s life, only to be met with my family’s blame and Mom’s coldness. In this life, I chose to watch, wondering what they would do about Mom’s choice for Chloe. The nurse rushed out of the operating room again, her voice frantic. “Have you found Dr. Hayes?! The patient’s vital signs are dropping!” She cried. “If we don’t operate now, it will be too late!” Dad frantically tried to call Mom again, only to find he’d been blocked. Grandma Rose and Grandpa Frank also fumbled for their phones, shakily dialing. A moment later, both their faces turned ashen. “Can’t get through! She blocked me too!” Grandma Rose’s voice was filled with unbelievable pain. “Me too… that heartless woman! How could she do this?!” Grandpa Frank clutched his phone, tears and snot blurring his face. Despair instantly spread. Everyone knew that this time, James was truly gone. We could only stand helplessly outside the operating room, listening to the hurried sounds of resuscitation inside, watching James’s life slowly ebb away. The operating room door opened again. The doctor emerged, looking exhausted, and gently shook his head. “I’m sorry… we did our best.” Grandma Rose let out a desperate wail, collapsing onto James’s body, sobbing heartbrokenly. “My James! My grandson!” Grandpa Frank stumbled in, clutching James’s cold body, howling, “James! My grandson! How could this happen?!” Dad stood frozen, his body swaying, his face etched with extreme pain and regret. He looked at his lifeless son on the operating table and let out a raw, unrestrained roar. 3 Although Mom said she’d be back that night, she was still delayed by two days. James’s funeral had already taken place by the time she finally arrived, trailing Chloe behind her. Chloe’s neck was adorned with a shimmering pearl necklace, which gleamed ostentatiously in the dim light of the living room. Mom’s eyes immediately landed on me. Before I could even react, a loud slap landed on my face. A searing pain instantly spread, making my head ring. “You home-wrecker!” Mom screamed, her voice raw. “I only went to play with Chloe for a bit, and you started lying and stirring up trouble! How dare you joke about something as serious as James’s accident!” My face felt numb from the blow, my mind a blank slate. It took a while to find my voice again. “I didn’t…” Chloe caressed the necklace on her neck, looking at me with an innocent expression, her eyes glinting with hidden triumph. “Mom, don’t be angry, don’t be angry because of me. Sophia is your biological daughter, after all. Maybe she just missed you too much, that’s why…” Her words were supposedly conciliatory, yet each one poured gasoline on the fire. “I wish I never had a daughter like you!” Mom hissed through clenched teeth, as if I were a plague she couldn’t escape. Dad, who had been silent, stepped forward and shielded me. “If you don’t want this daughter, I do. You and Chloe can live your own lives.” Mom and I both froze. Dad usually doted on Chloe as much as Mom did, but now he was completely out of character. “Robert, what’s wrong with you?” Seeing this, Chloe quickly stepped forward, weakly tugging at Dad’s sleeve, her voice even more aggrieved. “Did Chloe make Dad angry? Chloe doesn’t want the pearl necklace anymore, Dad, please don’t be angry.” Her eyes flickered between me and Dad, a clear performance. She wanted to use her feigned hurt and sensibility to win back Dad’s favor. Dad shook off her hand, his face expressionless. “Don’t call me Dad.” He looked at her coldly. “We’re not related by blood.” Chloe’s face instantly went ashen, her body stiffened, and the tears in her eyes seemed to freeze. Grandma Rose finally couldn’t hold back. “I don’t know how you can call yourself a mother! Neglecting your own flesh and blood, but so attentive to an outsider!” I stood behind Dad, covering my burning cheek, watching Mom being reprimanded by the whole family. But this time, it wasn’t me who was being scolded. Mom was completely bewildered. She could only vent her anger on me. “Sophia Hayes! What did you tell them?! What lies have you been spreading again?!” She refused to believe James was truly dead, refused to believe her own actions had led to all this. She only believed I was up to my old tricks, slandering her behind her back, stirring up trouble. Just as Mom was about to lose her mind, Grandpa Frank delivered a sharp slap across Mom’s face. Before Mom could recover from the blow, Grandpa Frank slammed a piece of paper he had been clutching tightly onto Mom’s face. “You still have the nerve to blame others! Look! See for yourself!”

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I awakened to an ancient lineage within my family, a gift for transformation that would fully manifest when I came of age, bringing with it the chance to choose my gender. In a past life, to stay by the side of the man I loved, I’d chosen to remain a girl. I played the devoted wife and mother, helping him ascend from an unknown small-time operator to a titan of industry, a Silicon Valley magnate. Our two children I’d seen through to Harvard and Stanford. But on my fiftieth birthday, after eating a cake he’d baked himself, I’d gargled a mouthful of black blood, bitter and metallic. My children stood by, their eyes as cold and flat as lake ice, not even reaching for a phone. “Mom, you can go peacefully. Aunt Brooke will take care of us and Dad.” “Being your child was truly humiliating.” They’d exploited me for a life of privilege, then casually shoved me into the abyss. When I next opened my eyes, I stood in the family sanctuary. Grandpa extended a yellowed parchment. “Casey, it’s time to decide.” 01 I took the aged parchment from Grandpa’s hand, the paper feeling thin and fragile, like a dried leaf. Each stroke of the pen on its surface etched my destiny, the final flourish a definitive, irreversible declaration. Grandpa looked up, startled. “Are you truly certain, that you wish to be a man? And your boyfriend… will he accept you after your transformation?” Before he’d even finished speaking, Liam was already peering anxiously from outside the sanctuary door—but he was an outsider, unable to enter, unable to hear our words. I reverently lit the parchment, watching it curl into ash, and offered Grandpa a soft smile. “Grandpa, my mind is made up. Please keep my decision a secret until the transformation is complete.” “Very well. Your life, your steering wheel. The ritual will be done in a week. Your new ID will be delivered to you.” A week. I whispered the words to myself—a week from now, I would have a completely new life, one so perfect it felt like a dream. But before that, Liam had to be dealt with. Stepping out of the sanctuary, Liam immediately grasped my wrist. “Casey, you’ve sacrificed so much for me. I swear, you’ll never regret it. Will you bind yourself to me?” I hesitated. In my past life, Liam had never mentioned a binding pact. Could he be a reborn soul too? I tested him. “A pact isn’t like marriage, Liam. Once it’s sealed, we can never truly separate. Can you genuinely love me forever, never stray?” “Of course,” he vowed. His eyes brimmed with what looked like devotion, but I saw past the practiced performance, catching the glint of cold ambition, the very same ruthless glint that had shone in them when he’d raised the poisoned glass to my lips in another life. “Casey, the thought of you ever leaving me… it kills me. Please, say yes. Say you’ll be mine.” A sudden, searing knot twisted in my stomach, a phantom agony as if the poison from a forgotten lifetime had ripped through my guts all over again. I swallowed the pain, offering him a bright, sweet smile. “Yes, I’ll bind myself to you. I don’t want to be separated from you either. Let’s do it now.” I cut a lock of his hair, intertwining it with a strand of my own, and asked Grandpa to burn it in the sanctuary’s brazier. “Liam and I bind our lives today, in love and unwavering devotion.” Grandpa started to speak, then stopped. “Casey, but you’re not…?” He remembered my request, his gaze sweeping over us, complex and heavy, before finally just letting out a deep sigh. Watching the hair turn to ash in the flames, a genuine smile finally touched my lips. That very night, Liam began discussing wedding details with my parents. He shed his daytime veneer of charm like an old skin, sprawling at the head of our dining table, not even bothering to look up. “Auntie, when are you transferring the house and car titles to my name?” Mom’s face hardened. “What are you talking about?” “To be frank, my family doesn’t have much money. Wedding expenses will probably fall to you. If you’re worried about costs, we don’t have to have a wedding at all, I don’t care. But after we’re married, Casey is my wife. Her house and car will be mine eventually anyway, so what’s the difference if it’s sooner rather than later?” He even reached over to drop a chicken drumstick into my bowl, grinning smugly. “Right, Casey?” My parents’ eyes locked on me. They knew this decision ultimately rested with me. “Casey, did you hear that? You’re not even married yet, and he’s already eyeing our assets! Do you really think you’ll have a good life with him? Even if you stay a girl, your father and I can find you a much better match! If you say the word, we’ll throw him out right now!” Dad silently grabbed a wooden stick. Liam scrambled, yelling, “We’re already bound by a pact! You can’t back out! If Casey isn’t my wife, she’ll face a terrible end!” My parents looked as if they’d been struck by lightning. Seeing my silence, Mom panicked, calling me foolish, while Dad, his face purple with rage, clutched his chest as if his heart might burst right out of it. I placed a steadying hand on Mom’s trembling shoulder, soothing her quietly—Liam’s true malice and shamelessness, they hadn’t even begun to witness. The heavens had granted me this second chance, meant for me to see the true depths of his depravity. I turned to Liam, my voice calm. “Aside from the house Mom and Dad live in, all our family’s assets are in my name. Sixteen lavish estates, two prime downtown properties, seventy commercial storefronts, thirty-four vehicles, and six hundred million in savings. If you want them, I’ll transfer them all to you. This house, though, stays with my parents for their retirement—do you agree?” Liam’s eyes glowed with avarice. In another life, I’d merely nudged him, and he’d soared to unimaginable wealth. He’d known I had money, but he’d never grasped the true extent of my family’s fortune. He readily agreed. “Absolutely.” “But your parents need to write their wills now. After they’re gone, that house has to be signed over to me, and only me.” His greed held no surprises for me. I arranged everything exactly as he’d demanded. As the final deposit was transferred to Liam, a single, iridescent snake scale shimmered into existence on his left forearm. “What… what is this?” “A token of our binding pact. When all three scales appear, the pact will be fully sealed.” “Why didn’t it appear before?” he mumbled, confused, then quickly shut his mouth. He saw my gaze was calm, even though I’d just given away everything. Liam looked away, a flicker of unease in his eyes. “You don’t have to be upset. My money is your money, isn’t it? I’d never treat you badly. When the money’s in the man’s hands, the family thrives.” In the previous life, I was the one who initiated the pact. When he swore he’d treat me well, his words were far more sincere than they were now. But what had he done in the end? A cup of poison, sending me to my grave. 02 With money in his pockets, Liam first splurged on his dream cruiser motorcycle. Then he went wild with credit cards, buying an avalanche of jewelry, designer clothes, and skincare products—all things women typically craved. My phone buzzed with an endless stream of notifications, each one a digital breadcrumb of his extravagance. What he bought for me, however, was a nine-dollar-and-ninety-nine-cent plated bracelet from a discount online store. I took it, smiling. Not a single complaint. With four days left until the ritual’s completion, Liam suddenly dragged me from my room in the middle of the night. Still in my sleep shirt, I was yanked from bed, dragged out into the biting night air and shoved into his car, which sped us toward the hospital. “My sister was in a car accident. You have the same blood type as her. You have to donate blood.” Once we were in the emergency room, I knew. His “sister” was Brooke. The “Aunt Brooke” my son had spoken of. The woman Liam and my children truly loved. Liam grabbed a nurse by the arm, just as she was about to enter the operating room. “Take her blood. No matter what, save Brooke.” The nurse drew 400 milliliters from my arm. Liam’s brow furrowed savagely. “Isn’t it supposed to be 1000 milliliters? Why aren’t you drawing more?” The nurse looked at him, distressed. “Drawing more than 400 milliliters is dangerous. 1000 milliliters would put this lady into shock. Besides, the patient inside isn’t severely injured, and the blood we ordered is already on its way.” “I don’t care. Her blood is better. Just draw hers.” He turned to me. “She’s my wife. Don’t you think I know her body? A mere 1000 milliliters of blood, what’s the big deal?” Onlookers began to murmur. “This guy’s a real piece of work, using his own wife as a blood bag?” “Seriously, as if blood has different grades. He just wants to kill his wife.” “Miss, don’t you dare agree. It’s not worth hurting yourself for someone else.” I smiled, extending my arm towards the nurse. “Draw it.” “Liam asked for it. I have to give it to him.” The nurse stared at me in disbelief, as if I were insane. Even the people who’d been defending me moments before now turned away, muttering that I had no brains, that you couldn’t save someone determined to destroy themselves. I was unmoved. I watched, impassively, as my blood drained from my body. How did Liam know my blood was “better”? In my previous life, he’d been in the ICU with pneumonia, doctors saying he wouldn’t make it. It was my own blood I’d given to brew the medicine that brought him back. So in this life, even with the hospital having plenty of blood, even with Brooke’s injuries being minor and not life-threatening, he still insisted on draining me dry to save his one true love. A hazy curtain of pain descended, and when I finally blinked awake, Liam was there, a blurred shape by my bed. I pulled up his sleeve, revealing the second snake scale on his left arm. Liam saw it too, his eyes a jumble of conflicting emotions, as he softly comforted me. “Casey, I never knew you loved me so much. I was wrong this time. I’m sorry.” “The doctor said you lost too much blood. You… you miscarried the baby, and your uterus couldn’t be saved. You can’t have children anymore.” I smiled. “Really? Well, if it’s gone, it’s gone. I don’t care.” “You’re not angry?!” Liam, seeing my indifference, was suddenly livid. “That was our child! Why aren’t you heartbroken it’s dead?! Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant sooner?!” And if I had told him sooner, would he have stopped drawing my blood? Besides, what was there to cherish about Liam’s child? I’d raised them with boundless effort, providing them with the most privileged life and the best education. Our son, brilliant but defiant. Our daughter, quiet and obedient, but with a low IQ. Did they reach those elite universities through their own merit and talent? No. It was all thanks to my family’s ancient lineage and my tireless support. But had those ingrates shown an ounce of gratitude? They’d watched, unmoved, as their mother writhed on the floor, her fingers digging into the wood, bleeding from the sheer agony. They’d even been cheerfully discussing where to take Brooke on vacation. With that thought, I gripped Liam’s hand. “Liam, it’s happened. What can we do now?” “At least your sister was saved. She’s safe. If you want children later, we can just adopt hers.” “Is… is that so?” Liam was stunned by my apparent reasonableness. He seemed unable to comprehend how I could be so utterly devoted. But my suggestion held no downsides for him. So he pulled me into his arms. “Casey, how blessed am I to have a wife like you.” “From now on, we’ll adopt Brooke’s children. You raise them well, and they’ll surely succeed. And then they’ll honor you properly. If they ever disobey, I’ll teach them a lesson.” His words flowed like honeyed promises, but in the twisted landscape of his desires, I knew exactly whose back he’d be breaking. 03 Liam brought Brooke home and put me in charge of her care. While I was washing fruit, Brooke casually tossed a flimsy lace thong into the bowl of freshly washed fruit I was preparing. “Sister-in-law, I just got out of the hospital. The doctor told me not to get wet. Could you do this for me?” My hand paused. Then I put the lace thong under the faucet and began to rinse it. Brooke arched a brow, a malicious smile twisting her lips. “Liam was right. You’re completely tied to him. Pathetically devoted.” “Is it true that you’ll do anything Liam asks?” “Not exactly. There are still two days until the ritual is complete.” I didn’t look up, focusing only on my task. “This will be the last time I help Liam.” “The last time for what?” Liam walked over, saw what was in my hand, and shot Brooke a disapproving glance. In a few days, he wouldn’t even have this small spark of guilt; he’d simply treat me like a maid. Brooke smiled at me. “Then I’d better make the most of this last chance.” The night before the ritual was complete, Liam and Brooke bound my hands and feet and shoved me into a large birdcage. I frowned, calling Liam’s name. “What are you doing? Where are you taking me?” The car jolted and bounced. Until the cloth covering the birdcage was yanked off. Light flooded in. My eyes met a pair of lecherous, greedy eyes. The man looked at least seventy, staring at my chest, drooling. “Soft. So soft. You sure I can play with her however I want tonight?” A low, molten heat began to coil in my gut. My gaze was a brand, burning into Liam. “What is the meaning of this?” Liam avoided my eyes. Brooke draped herself over his shoulder. “A few days ago, we had a motorcycle accident. We accidentally ran over and killed Big Tony’s prize-winning dog.” “Tony said if we couldn’t bring his dog back to life, he’d take one of Liam’s arms.” “So I suggested you spend a night with Tony, to make amends for us. You love Liam so much, you wouldn’t mind, right?” A bitter, humorless laugh almost bubbled up from my throat. Still, I stared at Liam. “Liam, I want you to say it. Say you’re really going to hand me over to another man. All for the life of a dog?” “Casey, don’t be afraid. Just tough it out for one night. Besides, I’m your husband. I don’t care if you get ‘dirty,’ so what do you have to worry about?” Liam’s demands truly knew no bottom. My chest heaved with rage, and I dug my nails into my palms, repeating ‘endure, endure’ to myself. The old man, Tony, grew impatient. “What do you mean ‘just a dog’? What about a dog? I ought to take your lives for killing my dog. Looks like this woman isn’t willing, huh?” “Before I lose my temper, you. Get over here. Tie your wife to my bed yourself. Or you can find out what happens when you cross me!” Liam’s face went white. He gritted his teeth, opened the cage door without bothering to untie me, and hoisted me, then tossed me onto the bed. A thick, disgusted glob of spittle left my mouth, landing squarely on his cheek. “You’re truly shameless, Liam. I gave you so much money, and you can’t even handle a simple problem like this.” “Say whatever you want.” Liam pinned my hands, binding them to the bedpost. “Casey, remember this: after tonight, I’m the only one who won’t look down on you.” “Don’t even think about leaving me. From now on, you’ll be obedient, and we’ll live our lives with me and Brooke. I won’t mistreat you.” I sank my teeth into his hand, biting down until my mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood. Liam hissed, drawing a sharp breath, and wrenched his hand free after several attempts. Then he slapped me hard across the face. “Crazy bitch.” “Just wait till tomorrow. I’ll teach you a lesson.” With that, he even managed a fawning smile at Tony, then pulled Brooke from the room. Brooke looked at me, disheveled and trapped, her eyes betraying an unmasked mix of pity and triumph. Tony, smelling faintly of stale cigars and desperation, lunged forward, his gnarled hands fumbling at my clothes. Just as his hand reached my back, the clock chimed midnight. A wave of excruciating pain ripped through my body. My limbs curled in on themselves, the ropes binding me straining taut. Tony frowned, peering at me. “What are you doing? What trick is this?” “Liam! Get in here! What’s wrong with this woman?!” At that exact moment, Liam, outside, looked down and saw it: the third snake scale shimmering into existence on his left hand. What was happening? He’d always believed the scales signified Casey’s love. The more scales, the deeper Casey’s love, the more inseparable she was from him, the stronger their marriage pact. But now Casey clearly hated him. Why were the scales still appearing?! A sudden, immense dread flooded him, a primal terror that rooted him to the spot. It was the instinct of a small animal facing an overwhelming predator. He frantically pushed open the door. “Tony, what’s going on?!” As he entered the room, a strange, yet familiar, young male voice cut through the air. The voice commanded. “Kneel!” Thump. Liam found his knees buckling, slamming hard onto the floor without his conscious will.

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1 The day after I refused to give a bizarre client her demeaning “kneeling service,” Asher Reed started pursuing me. He was lavish with his money, and incredibly attentive, stating directly: “Stop looking for a job. I’ll take care of you.” I immediately agreed—with a handsome boyfriend willing to support me, who’d want to be a corporate drone? For the next year, he plunged me into a life of opulent excess. Everyone around us was betting that once his novelty wore off, my life would completely unravel. Sure enough, Asher soon broke up with me, confessing that his pursuit had merely been for a wager. But he didn’t know, I already knew everything. I shook the bankbook in my hand, smiling. “Thanks for the year’s hospitality. Now, it’s time for me to focus on my career.” The day my resignation was approved, I overheard Asher and Serena Thorne’s conversation. “That fool has already quit her job. Within a year, I’ll turn her into a total mess,” Asher’s voice drifted from behind the door. I peeked, seeing Serena’s eyes crinkle with laughter. “Asher, if you pull this off, I’ll marry you.” “Don’t make me wait too long. I can’t wait to see her abandon her dignity for money.” Inside the private room, a group of trust fund kids sat, their faces plastered with mocking grins. “Finally, some entertainment in this dull life.” “Serena’s brilliant, though, isn’t she? Getting a sales associate to live a life of being served hand and foot every day—this whole ‘spoil to destroy’ plan is pure genius.” “Ruthless! With her background, she’ll never truly break into our circle. What do you guys think she’ll do once she’s gotten used to the lavish life and then gets thrown back to reality?” “My guess? Either she’ll become a sugar baby for some old man, or she’ll hit the streets, hahahaha.” “Anyway, women, if they’re willing to be… flexible, it’s much easier to make money than for men.” Their laughter reached my ears, clear as a bell. A strange mix of nervousness and excitement bubbled within me. Before this, I’d actually felt a twinge of guilt towards Asher—after all, I’d only accepted his pursuit for the money too. Serena and I had no deep-seated animosity. Before quitting, I worked as a sales associate at a mid-range luxury brand. That day, she’d demanded I kneel on both knees to help her try on shoes. I’d knelt on one knee, but she’d used her toe to lift my chin, sneering, “Didn’t you hear me? Both knees! If I weren’t in such a good mood today, I wouldn’t even step foot in a low-end store like this. You should feel honored to serve me on your knees.” For years, I’d endured countless humiliations for the sake of survival, but that day, I just couldn’t anymore. I pushed her foot away, stood up, and smiled. “My apologies, but we can’t afford to serve a ‘dignified’ person like yourself. Also, that era is long gone. I suggest you update your worldview.” Serena threw a fit. I was prepared to be fired, but instead, Asher Reed arrived. Who in Willow Creek didn’t know about the sole heir of the Reed family? His prominent background and striking looks had already made him famous online. When he asked for my contact information, I already had a plan forming in my mind: given my background and education, I’d never reach the elite circles even if I struggled my whole life. The stepping stone Serena had unwittingly handed me was exactly the venture capital I needed for my own business. I really should “thank” her properly. To personally participate in this “game,” Serena spared no effort. At one gathering, she feigned unfamiliarity with Asher, then extended an “olive branch” to me: “So, you’re Asher’s girlfriend. Let’s just put the past behind us. We’ll be in the same circles now; maybe we’ll even become friends.” Others seized the opportunity to probe about our past friction, and Asher even pretended to make Serena apologize by downing three shots. Watching a room full of privileged elites stage this play for my benefit, I secretly sighed: Oh, Quinn Davies, what did I do to deserve being their “electronic pet”? After “shaking hands” with Serena, the plan officially kicked off. Asher first changed my living situation—more than just moving, I essentially moved into his villa. He wouldn’t let me bring any of my old clothes, only necessities. Once I was settled, he and Serena took me on a luxury shopping spree. Bags I could only admire from afar were now mine for the taking. I pretended to be completely overwhelmed, excitedly caressing the expensive items, then looking at Asher with greedy eyes, cautiously asking, “Can I have a few more?” As I turned, I caught him rolling his eyes, then quickly replacing it with a doting expression. “Of course. Take as many as you want, we’ll pack them all up.” I secretly pinched my thigh, then, teary-eyed, I threw myself into his arms. “Honey, you’re so good to me!” His body stiffened, his face looking somewhat uncomfortable, but I ignored it, cupped his face, and kissed him—our first intimate contact. Serena reacted even more violently than he did. She practically yanked me away, her voice sharp. “Quinn Davies, what do you think you’re doing?!” I blinked at her, smiling innocently. “Oh, sorry, you caught me being silly. I’ve never bought bags this expensive, so I got a little carried away. But Serena, why do you look even more excited than I do?” My words clearly pleased her. Serena glanced around, forcing a save. “N-nothing, I just think it’s not appropriate for you two to be like that in public.” My face flushed, and I quickly pulled away from Asher. Then, pointing at the various bags before me, I said, head held high, “This one, this one, and this one, no.” “I want all the others!” While I was busy caressing my new bags, Serena and Asher slipped out, one after the other. A moment later, they returned, one after the other. In those few minutes, Serena’s lipstick was smudged, but her complexion had considerably softened. Asher’s eyes held an unconcealed glint of desire. I sighed softly, secretly resolving to put on an even better performance later. For my sake, they were both forcing down their desires. By all rights, they deserved a reward. So, I led them to the place I used to work. Facing my former colleagues, I played the part of the ungrateful, newly rich snob to perfection. I imperiously ordered colleagues to try on shoes for me, pair after pair. Though I didn’t make them kneel on both knees, anyone could see my deliberate torment. Serena’s lips curved upwards, her fists clenched as if suppressing inner excitement. Asher sat on the sofa, a playful smirk on his face. Only when my former colleagues were too exhausted to stand upright did I wave my hand. “I’ll take all the ones I just tried on.” After providing the delivery address, I left, thoroughly satisfied, with my “pets” in tow. Oh, no, wait. My two distinguished benefactors. I hadn’t walked far before a message popped up on my phone. “Q, next time something good like this happens, remember me, mwah!” Followed by a hundred-thousand-dollar transfer. I accepted it, sending back an “OK.” 2 Serena, for the sake of her “electronic pet,” specially created an online account. She named it “Sales Girl’s Downfall.” Simple, direct. Coincidentally, she had blocked my main account, but my burner account stumbled upon it. Every day, she updated her progress online, even creating a fan group for convenience. In her story, I was a vain sales associate who, driven by greed, stole her bag and publicly insulted her. So, they decided to “test” me. The wager was the same: to see if I would fall within a year. Since I was the protagonist, I naturally had to show my support. I infiltrated the fan group. It contained people from their inner circle and curious netizens. “Is this a new type of content? Interesting.” “Host, update faster, can’t wait.” “Real or fake, I’m just curious how this sales associate’s story ends.” “I bet she will. That’s human nature: it’s easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to go back.” “I agree with the above. No ordinary person can maintain their integrity with the blogger’s methods. The sales associate has gotten used to a life of unearned luxury. Once the deadline hits and she’s thrown back, she’ll scorn small money but can’t earn big money. She has only two outcomes: either her worldview collapses and she’s completely ruined, or she’ll be decadent for a long time, constantly doubting herself.” “Honestly, this ‘dog training’ method is brutal, directly targeting her mentally. But this sales associate brought it on herself. If she hadn’t been so delusional, she wouldn’t have been played like a dog.” I read the heated discussions among netizens, smiling as I put down my phone. In these past few months, although Asher never gave me cash directly, I had still monetized over three million dollars from him. The bags, jewelry, and clothes he bought me—of course, I wasn’t foolish enough to sell them and buy knock-offs. Serena was too shrewd; she kept track of everything I received. I guessed that when we broke up, I wouldn’t be able to take a single item. But while I couldn’t sell them, I could certainly lend them out. Relying on these, I could still earn a decent income each month. 3 However, I couldn’t always be compliant; it would be too boring if everything went too smoothly. When I suggested I wanted to work, Asher’s expression immediately turned serious. He looked at me, puzzled. “Work is for poor people. With me, you only need to enjoy life.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, playfully pouting. “But playing all the time gets a little boring.” I paused, then proposed, “How about I enroll in some hobby classes? That way, I’ll have something to do, what do you think~!” Asher agreed almost without hesitation. I smiled and threw myself into his arms, my voice syrupy sweet. “Honey, you’re so good to me! I love you so much~” Asher’s lips curled into a faint smile, and he habitually ruffled my hair. Over these past few months, his attitude towards me had already changed. Although he maintained his aloof demeanor when others were around, when it was just the two of us, he reveled in my playful affection, even initiating kisses, though he always stopped short of anything more. When Serena found out about the classes, she complained for a long time. She grumbled in her “die-hard fan” group. “Why is she taking classes all of a sudden? I have a bad feeling about this.” I quickly picked up my phone and replied to her. “Sister, you’re just too sensitive. What kind of trouble can a pauper like her stir up? She’s probably just doing it for photos to show off. I’ve seen plenty of fake socialites like her.” That’s right, by insulting myself, I had become one of Serena’s most devoted fans. In that group, besides their inner circle, only two netizens were the most vicious with their insults, and I was one of them. Serena’s worries about Asher were quickly dispelled. But to reassure her, I would post a hundred social media updates a day, a frequency so high that she would screenshot them and complain in the group. “Wearing LV socks too? Who wants to see her stinky feet?” In truth, I’d always had a clear understanding of myself. My luck was terrible; I was born into a family that heavily favored boys. At sixteen, I was forced to drop out of school, not even finishing high school, to work and earn tuition for my younger brother. Fortunately, I didn’t have much aptitude for academics anyway. Perhaps every class has that one person who tries incredibly hard but whose grades just won’t improve. I was that person. When I first entered the workforce, I had low education, no specialized skills, and could only do low-barrier jobs. Most of the money I earned was even taken by my family. When I was eighteen, my brother said he wanted a laptop, so my mother personally sent me to an underground clinic to harvest my eggs. The moment I fought with all my might to break free from that operating table, I made up my mind: I would cut all ties with this so-called family for good. Later, I used my savings to further my education. In the years since entering society, I had cried because I was poor, and I had begged others. I was terrified of poverty, which is why I loved money, deeply. I was vain enough, and truly willing to fight for it. Asher Reed, as he stood before me, was the best stepping stone I could ask for. But such opportunities were rare. This time, I could only win, not lose. 4 With only two weeks left until the deadline, Serena and Asher had a huge fight over me. All because he had blocked a drink meant for me. I hid in the restroom, listening to Serena’s furious, teeth-gritted questions. “What do you mean? Do you like her now? Why did you block that drink for her? Answer me!” Asher rubbed his temples, his tone less than pleasant. “Didn’t you ask me to pretend to be her boyfriend? I can’t just stand there and watch her get hammered, can I?” “Do you think I’m just mad about one drink? How many times have you been all over her in front of me lately? Holding hands, kissing… what, are you really her boyfriend now? How far have things gone between you two?!” “Asher, how long has it been since you’ve been close to me? You haven’t actually fallen for that cheap woman, have you?” Asher frowned, irritably tugging at his collar. “I promised you I wouldn’t sleep with her, and I haven’t broken that promise. As for the rest, it’s just because she’s so clingy. If I don’t play along, she’ll throw a fit. That’s all it is.” Serena was silent for a moment, then threw herself into his arms, softening her voice. “Alright, let’s stop fighting. The year is almost up. In half a month, we’ll get married, okay?” She stood on tiptoes, leaning in. But Asher dodged her, subtly creating distance. “I’m going back. This is all almost over. Don’t let them catch on now.” Serena’s mouth hung open, her face a picture of embarrassment. When I returned, Asher was nursing a drink, Serena already gone, probably sulking. As the party broke up, he’d drunk a lot, drunkenly slumping against my shoulder, murmuring incoherently, “Q, my good Q.” Back at the villa, I tossed him onto the bed. Just as I was about to leave, he grabbed my wrist. The world spun, and I found myself pinned beneath him, his warm breath fanning my face. His hand moved along my waist, slowly trailing downwards. “Q, I want you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, whispering in his ear. “Okay.” That night. Undercurrents stirred into a warm tide. … The next day, looking at his face, I felt pretty good. To be honest, I’d been hungry for a while. Asher might be a scoundrel, but he had the looks, the body, and the… technique. By all accounts, it was pure pleasure for me. After our intimate encounter, Asher instinctively began to categorize me as part of his territory. Now, not only did he openly defend me in front of Serena multiple times, he even stopped others from bothering me. His unconcealed possessiveness also drew Serena’s ire. At a gathering, they again left one after the other. A moment later, Serena re-entered the private room, her face distraught, eyes red. She grabbed her bag and left. As she walked out, she glared at me fiercely. Someone noticed the tension and was about to follow her, but Asher sharply called out, “Come back! Leave her alone.” For several days, Serena didn’t reappear. Not until the deadline arrived. Without warning, Serena stormed into the villa with a large group of people. The trust fund kids sat in rows, all of them casting mocking glances my way. I licked my lips, a thrill running through me. This day had finally come. Asher’s face suddenly changed. He clearly hadn’t expected their unannounced visit. He opened his mouth, but said nothing. Serena seized the opportunity to go live, pointing the camera at me, her expression ecstatic. “Quinn Davies, game over!”

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