Author: Momo Chan

I had just wrapped up a domestic abuse case. The victim was in tears, thanking me over and over again. “Harper, if it weren’t for you, that monster would have beaten me to death!” Chloe sobbed. “Even if I have to mortgage my house and sell everything I own, I’ll make sure you get your legal fees.” Knowing how hard her life was, I only charged her a token fee of a hundred dollars. But the very next day, she sued me. Sitting in the plaintiff’s seat, her voice trembled with theatrical agony as she addressed the court. “I asked her to just help me teach my husband a lesson. But instead, she pushed for a three-year prison sentence just so she could pocket a massive attorney fee!” “What am I supposed to do now? What about my family? My child is only three years old. How is a stay-at-home mom like me supposed to survive? She is driving my family to suicide!” Standing in the defendant’s box, I remained silent. I only leaned over to my assistant, Leo, and whispered, “Request a copy of the court transcript as soon as this session ends.” Chloe had probably forgotten one crucial thing. I am an elite defense attorney. I haven’t lost a single case since the day I passed the bar. Since I was strong enough to drag her out of her living hell, I was more than strong enough to send her right back down. **1** When I received the court summons, Leo was carefully hanging a custom engraved plaque on my office wall. It read: *A Beacon of Justice.* “Harper, look at this. Is this spot okay? It looks so professional!” Leo turned around, his face beaming with excitement, waiting for my approval. I gripped the thin piece of paper, my knuckles turning white. The name in the plaintiff column, *Chloe Miller*, felt like a slap in the face. Just yesterday, this woman was holding my hands, weeping and calling me her savior. Today, she was dragging me to court. Noticing my pale face, Leo walked over. “Harper, what’s wrong?” His eyes fell on the summons. His voice died in his throat, his smile instantly freezing. “This… this is a joke, right? Chloe is suing you? Has she lost her mind?!” I didn’t say a word. I just tossed the paper onto my desk and stared at the plaque on the wall. “A Beacon of Justice?” The corner of my mouth twitched into a cold, quiet sneer. “Even King Solomon would have thrown his crown on the ground if he had to deal with someone like her.” The lawsuit was ridiculous, but the internet moved faster than the law. In less than twelve hours, a video went viral across all social media platforms. The headline was incredibly clickbaity: *Elite Attorney Ruins a Family Just for a Paycheck.* In the video, Chloe held her three-year-old child, sobbing uncontrollably. She detailed how her husband, Austin, had beaten her, and how she had desperately sought my help. But then, she spun the narrative. She claimed she only wanted me to help her get a restraining order to scare her husband. She claimed that I, greedy for a massive legal fee, had brainwashed her about the extreme dangers of domestic violence, manipulating her into pressing felony charges. “Attorney Harper Vance told me that the only way I’d ever be safe was to put my husband behind bars. She said it was the only way to get a huge payout.” “I’m just an uneducated housewife. What do I know about the law? I believed every word she said.” “But I never expected her to actually throw my husband in prison! He was the sole provider for our family. Now that he’s gone, how are my baby and I supposed to survive?” “And instead of showing any mercy, she handed me a massive bill right after the sentencing. She demanded hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees. She threatened to foreclose on my house if I didn’t pay!” “I have nowhere else to turn. I’m begging the internet to help me. I just wanted to protect my family. What did I do wrong?” At the end of the video, she fell to her knees, clutching her child. Next to her on the floor lay a “exorbitant legal bill,” which was deliberately blurred out. The comment section was completely toxic. [Holy crap! Is this lawyer even human? She’s literally sucking the blood of a victim!] [I knew these lawyers were bloodsucking leeches. They’ll do anything for money!] [The abusive husband is trash, but this lawyer is worse. She manipulated a helpless woman just to get paid.] [Boycott Harper Vance! The Bar Association needs to disbar her immediately!] My phone was ringing off the hook. The firm’s front desk was flooded with angry callers screaming abuse at me. Before long, Marcus Sterling, the managing partner of the firm, called me into his office. **Chapter 2** **2** Marcus slammed his phone onto the desk. The viral video was still playing on the screen. “Harper! Look at this mess!” His face was red with anger. “Our firm’s reputation is being dragged through the mud! We already have clients calling to terminate our contracts!” “In just half a day, we’ve had over ten major clients back out. We’ve lost nearly a hundred thousand dollars already!” His angry rant was cut short by his phone ringing again. He snatched it up impatiently. “Marcus speaking… What? Another cancellation? Fine, process the refund. Just try to keep them calm!” He threw the phone down and glared at me. “Marcus, this is a malicious frame-up,” I said, my voice as calm as if I were discussing someone else’s case. “A frame-up?” Marcus scowled. “Then explain the bill. How much did you actually charge Chloe for her case?” “A hundred dollars.” “One hundred thousand?” “One hundred dollars. Cash.” I looked him straight in the eye. “Knowing her financial situation, I personally waived my usual fee and only charged her a basic administrative filing fee.” Marcus froze, completely bewildered. “Then why didn’t you clear your name immediately? The public outrage is already out of control. A simple statement now will look like you’re just making excuses or forging evidence.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Fine. I’ll have the PR team prepare a press release. You go prepare your defense. We need to clear this up before the first court hearing to minimize the damage to the firm.” “Until then, I’ll try to shield you. You’re one of the most brilliant attorneys I’ve ever seen, Harper. Don’t let me down.” He patted my shoulder. A wave of gratitude washed over me. “Thank you, Marcus. I won’t let you down.” Tomorrow’s press conference would be my first counterattack. … Leaving Marcus’s office, I saw my assistant, Leo, arguing heatedly with a few of the younger associates. “Harper is not that kind of person! You guys don’t know the facts, so shut your mouths!” Serena, a newly hired intern fresh out of law school, spoke up self-righteously. “Leo, we aren’t doubting Harper’s skills. We just feel bad for Chloe.” “Did you see her video? Her husband was their only source of income. Now that he’s in prison, how is a housewife with a toddler supposed to survive? Don’t you think Harper lacked a bit of… human empathy when she handled this case?” Another female colleague nodded in agreement. “Yeah, the law shouldn’t be completely devoid of mercy. Sometimes a judgment might be legally correct, but it’s socially devastating. As lawyers, shouldn’t we consider the real-world impact of our actions?” Leo was turning red with rage. “You guys… you’re talking from a place of pure privilege! Have you even read the case file? Do you have any idea how much of a monster that abuser was?” Leo grabbed his phone and pulled up photos of Chloe’s injuries. He pointed at the screen frantically. “Look at this! Chloe’s face and arms were covered in deep bruises! If Harper hadn’t stepped in, she would have ended up in a body bag!” Serena glanced at the screen, letting out a soft, mocking laugh. “Leo, anyone can Photoshop a bruise. If it was really that serious, why would Chloe turn around and sue her own lawyer? You’re a man, so of course you don’t get it. Men are the pillars of the household. When the pillar falls, the house collapses. It’s the women and children who suffer!” “Then again, how could a man ever truly understand a woman’s pain?” I stood a few yards away, listening quietly. This was the typical naive, fresh-out-of-college intern. Not only was she simple-minded, but she was also utterly useless. She didn’t care about the facts. Armed only with a viral video and her pathetic “empathy,” she chose to stand on a moral high ground to judge me. I didn’t waste my breath arguing with her. I walked back to my office, shut the door, and dialed Leo’s number. “Leo, come into my office.” **Chapter 3** **3** Leo pushed the door open, his face still flushed with anger. “Harper, don’t listen to those idiots! They’re just keyboard warriors playing saints!” “Sit down,” I said calmly, gesturing to the chair across from me. “Now is not the time to be angry. I need you to do a few things for me.” Leo immediately sat up straight and pulled out his notepad. “Name it.” … The next morning, the moment I arrived at the office building, a mob of reporters ambushed me. “Attorney Vance! Is it true that you forced a victim’s husband into prison just to secure a massive payout?” “Chloe Miller claims you took advantage of her ignorance. What is your response to that?” “There are rumors that you’ve been suspended by your firm and are currently under investigation by the Bar Association. Can you confirm this?” Dozens of microphones and cameras were shoved into my face, the camera flashes blinding me. I kept my mouth shut. With the help of security, I barely managed to squeeze through the crowd and enter the building. As soon as I stepped into my office, Marcus called. “Harper, is everything ready for the press conference?” “Yes, Marcus,” I replied calmly. “We can begin.” … The press conference was scheduled for that afternoon. The journalists packed the conference room, eager to get the latest scoop. Once the cameras started rolling, I pulled up a video on the projector screen. It was the security footage of Chloe being brutally beaten by her husband in their hallway. The room went dead silent, filled only with her agonizing screams for help. The footage cut to the moment I arrived with the police to rescue her. I then displayed her official medical evaluation report. Under the diagnosis column, it read: *Severe internal bleeding and acute organ trauma.* This was the first task I had assigned to Leo. The reporters began whispering among themselves. “Wait, what is this? Chloe said she only had minor surface bruises. She literally had internal organ damage?” “Did she lie to us?” I paused the video and stared coldly at the crowd. “As you can all see, if I hadn’t intervened that night, Chloe Miller would probably be lying in a morgue right now.” I stopped there. The tide of public opinion was already starting to turn. But I wasn’t in a hurry to reveal all my cards. A simple press conference was too small a stage for what I had planned. The real trial was in two days. Under the gaze of the entire city, I would deliver the fatal blow. For myself, and for Marcus who had trusted me, I was going to win this war. Unsurprisingly, by the next day, clips from my press conference topped the trending charts on TikTok and Twitter. The comment section under Chloe’s original video started filling up with doubt and criticism. She was panicking now. Within hours, she posted another video. “Yes, I was abused, and yes, it looked bad in the video. But what if I told you that medical report was forged? We’ve been married for seven years. How could Austin have beaten me that badly?” “If he had really tried to kill me, why would I turn around and defend him now?” The twenty-second clip instantly threw the internet into another frenzy. I watched the video, my brows furrowing. I was the one who had taken her to the hospital. I had personally handled her bills, and the doctor had handed the medical report directly to me. There was absolutely no way it was forged. While I was trying to figure out her angle, she dropped another video. It was a surveillance clip. In the video, a woman whose build and side profile looked remarkably like mine, wearing a baseball cap and dressed in dark clothing, was whispering to a doctor in a hospital hallway. When the doctor turned around, my heart skipped a beat. It was the exact doctor who had handed me Chloe’s medical report. **Chapter 4** **4** The internet exploded once again. [I knew it! The medical report was fake! The great Harper Vance bribed the doctor!] [Unbelievable! I actually believed her yesterday! You lied to all of us, Harper Vance! Do you have a conscience?!] Angry netizens quickly doxed me, leaking my home address and personal number. Before I could even process the situation, a massive crowd of angry protesters gathered outside our office building. To keep the mob out, security had to lock down all the entrances. *Splat!* Someone threw a rotten egg, leaving a disgusting yellow stain on our pristine glass doors. Then came another, and another. Some extremists even threw buckets of manure, and the stench slowly seeped through the vents into the office. A few of the younger, more timid female colleagues began crying in fear. I walked out of my office and looked at my terrified coworkers. My fists clenched tightly. In the middle of the office, Serena stepped forward, her eyes red from crying, and pointed a finger at me. “Attorney Vance! Look at what you’ve done! Are you really going to stand here and watch everyone suffer because of your greed?” “How many of us came to this firm because we looked up to you? And this is how you repay us? You’ve dragged us all into this hell! Are you still the ‘Beacon of Justice’ they praised?!” “If you have even a shred of decency left, please… just walk out there and face them! This firm doesn’t belong to you alone!” I bit my lip so hard I nearly drew blood. I couldn’t even look Serena in the eye. I turned my head, only to lock eyes with Marcus. His gaze was filled with profound disappointment. My breath hitched in my throat. It felt like lead had been poured down my esophagus. I couldn’t make a sound. “Marcus…” I whispered. He looked at the angry mob outside, let out a heavy sigh, and walked back into his office with his hands behind his back. Through the dirty glass doors, I spotted Chloe standing across the street. She tilted her chin up at me in a smug, provocative gesture, silently mouthing three words: `[Paywall]`

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I was scrolling through a post, and the description felt like a mirror image of my life. “He works late until ten every night, smells like a strange perfume, and changed his phone password.” The comment section was filled with people telling the author to run. With trembling hands, I kept scrolling. Until I saw the latest update from the author: “Thank you for the concern, everyone. Today is our third anniversary, and he has a surprise ready for me.” Meanwhile, my husband was currently in the kitchen, cooking our anniversary dinner. A sudden chill crawled up my spine. The light from my phone screen cast a ghostly glow on my face in the dimly lit living room. My thumb swiped mindlessly until a title caught my eye: *Three Years of Marriage, and He’s Changed.* Impulsively, I tapped on it. The very first line made my heart skip a beat. “He works late until ten every night. When he comes home, he carries a sweet, unfamiliar perfume scent that makes my head spin. He even changed his phone password. It’s no longer our anniversary.” My blood rushed to my head, then drained just as quickly, leaving behind a cold, numb sensation. I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white. Lately, Liam had indeed been saying his company projects were keeping him busy. And when he came home, he often carried a sweet, floral-fruity scent… a perfume I never used. I had thought I was just being paranoid. Holding my breath, my trembling fingers scrolled down. The comment section was lively, filled with unanimous warnings: “Girl, run! This is a classic textbook case!” “Don’t hesitate. Start gathering evidence!” “I feel so bad for you. Dump him!” “Perfume smell + password change = he’s cheating. Period.” Every single comment felt like a block of ice slamming onto my heart. Yes, with such obvious signs, how could I… how could I still hold onto such ridiculous hope? My throat tightened. Almost self-destructively, I kept pulling the screen down, desperate to reach the end of the post. And then, I saw the author’s latest reply from just a few minutes ago: “Thanks for the concern, everyone. But maybe I’m just being too sensitive. Today is our third wedding anniversary. He just mysteriously told me he’s cooking dinner tonight to give me a surprise.” Our third wedding anniversary. Those words felt like a poisoned dagger stabbing straight into my eyes. Today was also my third wedding anniversary with Liam. Almost at the same moment, a soft clatter came from the kitchen—the sound of a spatula hitting the pan. Then came Liam’s cheerful voice, slightly muffled through the sliding glass door: “Chloe, just a little longer! It’s almost ready! I’m going to show off my chef skills tonight!” I turned my head stiffly. Through the glass, I could see his tall, familiar figure busy at work. The rich aroma of steak seared in butter drifted through the air—my absolute favorite. Yet, the palm gripping my phone was slick with cold sweat. No… something was wrong. I whipped my head back and stared intensely at the author’s username on the screen. It was just a random string of letters and numbers, completely unremarkable. But in the corner of the profile picture, there was a tiny, uncropped hint of a light-blue wavy border. It struck my brain like a bolt of lightning. I was the one who helped her set up that specific border. She had laughed and said back then, “This color is our little secret. Only you and I know it.” This account… belonged to Vanessa. Vanessa. My one and only best friend. My heart felt like it was grabbed by an invisible hand and wrung dry. The pain was so intense I could barely breathe. My vision blurred, and a loud buzzing filled my ears. Every sound from the kitchen felt distant and distorted. Liam was in the kitchen, preparing our third-anniversary dinner. Vanessa was posting on Whisper, describing a cheating husband, and claiming “he” was preparing a surprise for their third anniversary today. The late nights, the strange perfume, the changed password… Every single memory flashed before my eyes, perfectly aligning with every word in Vanessa’s post. It wasn’t a coincidence. Absolutely not. — ### Chapter 2

“Chloe?” Liam slid open the kitchen door. “What are you daydreaming about? Are you hungry? It’ll be quick. The soup just needs to simmer a bit longer.” He looked at me, his eyes seemingly filled with nothing but love. I watched him wipe his hands naturally and walk over. I looked at his slightly open collar—where another sweet scent might have lingered just hours ago. And on my phone, the post Vanessa made was silently screaming, ripping apart this warm, loving illusion. I instinctively flipped my phone face down on my lap. Liam didn’t seem to notice my reaction. He bent down close to me. “What’s wrong? You look a bit pale. Are you feeling okay?” His voice was dripping with concern. I flinched back, dodging his touch. The movement was too sharp. Liam froze for a second, a flash of confusion crossing his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “Really starving, huh? Hang in there. Your man is making you a feast.” He turned around, humming a tune, and went back into the warm light of the kitchen. The glass door slid shut, separating his back from me. I picked up my phone again. I unlocked it and opened the post once more. Vanessa’s reply, those few words, burned into my eyes like hot iron. *Third anniversary… surprise…* I looked up at the kitchen. Liam had his back to me, focusing on the soup pot. He occasionally tasted it with a spoon, his side profile looking incredibly patient and focused under the light. What a heartwarming picture. What a perfect surprise. A deep chill settled into my bones. My best friend. My husband of three years. When did they start? In the places I couldn’t see, how were they celebrating another anniversary surprise? My finger hovered over the direct message button on Vanessa’s profile. But I didn’t tap it. I just locked the screen and gripped the phone tightly, as if it were the only thing keeping me from shattering right then and there. Then, I slowly straightened my back, took a deep breath, and swallowed the bitter taste in my throat. “Liam,” I called out, my voice so calm it surprised even me. “Do you need me to set the table?” “No, no! You’re the queen today. Just sit and relax.” He waved his sauce-stained fingers, his eyes overflowing with tenderness. “Oh, by the way, that white wine you wanted to try last time? I chilled it. Should I open it now to let it breathe?” We had passed by that wine in the supermarket last month, and I had casually mentioned it would go well with steak. He actually remembered. I recalled him just giving a lazy grunt back then while looking at his phone. I had assumed he wasn’t even listening. A wave of bitterness rushed up my nose. “Sure,” I replied in the same light tone, even forcing a smile. “Whatever you think is best.” He answered happily and turned to grab the wine from the cabinet. The glass door reflected his humming silhouette. The clinking of silverware echoed as Liam began to set the dishes on the table. A perfect anniversary dinner. Every detail showed immense effort. If I hadn’t seen that post ten minutes ago, I would probably have thrown myself into his arms, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world. But now, every exquisite dish felt like a silent slap to my face. “Here, take a seat.” Liam pulled out a chair for me, his hand naturally brushing my shoulder. I lowered my eyes, avoiding his gaze, and sat down. He sat opposite me. He had just lit the candles, and the flickering flames made his handsome face look even more deep and romantic. He raised his glass, looking at me intensely. “Happy third anniversary, Chloe. Thank you for these three years… I’m so glad to have you.” “This looks amazing. When did you secretly learn how to cook like this?” I asked, cutting my steak, trying to sound casual. “Oh… just lately. I’ve been looking up recipes online, wanting to surprise you today.” He smiled, but his eyes seemed to drift for a fraction of a second before he looked down to sip his soup. “I’m glad you like it.” *Lately, looking up recipes.* My heart sank. When did Vanessa start posting? It seemed to be… *lately* too. — ### Chapter 3

“Is work still that busy? You’ve been staying so late every night.” I looked up, staring straight at him. Liam’s hand cutting the steak hesitated for a barely noticeable second. “Yeah. A major project is wrapping up, and it’s been a headache.” His tone was perfectly normal, even carrying a hint of playful complaining. “Once this phase is over, I’ll take you on a trip. I’ll make it up to you.” “Oh.” I nodded, acting casual. “By the way, you always have this scent on you lately. Did the office get a new air freshener? It’s pretty unique.” His hand holding the fork went stiff. He looked up at me, a flash of panic crossing his eyes before he quickly covered it up. “Really? Maybe… it’s a colleague’s perfume. The office air gets pretty mixed up.” He forced a smile, looking a bit strained. “You don’t like it? I’ll be more careful.” A colleague’s perfume. A sweet, fruity scent. Vanessa’s absolute favorite style. I didn’t push further. I just ate in silence. The dinner ended in an almost suffocating quiet. Suddenly, Liam put down his utensils and stood up. “I almost forgot. I have another surprise.” He walked into the study. When he came out, he was holding a beautifully wrapped velvet box. He walked over to me and got down on one knee—just like when he proposed three years ago. He opened the box. Inside was a diamond necklace with a star and moon pendant, sparkling brilliantly under the candlelight. It was gorgeous, and very expensive. “I saw you dog-eared this page in a magazine last time. I figured you’d like it.” He looked up at me, his eyes full of sweet anticipation. “Do you like it, Chloe?” I looked at the necklace, then at him. The dog-eared magazine… right, I did do that, but even I had forgotten about it. In this moment, a massive wave of absurdity and disgust washed over me. He remembered a dog-eared magazine, he remembered a casually mentioned wine, he remembered every superficial detail. But he had given his true passion, and perhaps another “anniversary surprise,” to Vanessa. “It’s beautiful,” I said dryly, without reaching out to take it. The excitement on Liam’s face slowly froze, turning into confusion and a hint of anxiety. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick? Or… do you not like the design?” I took a deep breath and finally looked him dead in the eye. “Liam,” my voice was quiet but crystal clear. “Is this your only surprise?” He froze. I picked up the phone that had been sitting on my lap, unlocked it, and turned the screen toward him. The Whisper post, specifically Vanessa’s latest comment about her “third-anniversary surprise,” was displayed clearly in front of his eyes. Time seemed to stop. The color drained from Liam’s face instantly, leaving him deathly pale. Watching him react like this, the last shred of my hope withered away. “This necklace,” I said slowly, each word dropping like ice on a stone floor. “Does Vanessa have one too? Or did you get her something even more special for your other ‘surprise’?” — ### Chapter 4

“Chloe, let me explain…” He suddenly snapped out of it, trying to stand up and grab my hand. I dodged him. I stood up and looked down at him. “Explain what?” A bitter, ugly laugh escaped my lips. “Explain how you can cook an anniversary dinner for me while spending another ‘third anniversary’ with my best friend? Explain the perfume, the changed password, and all those nights you ‘worked late’?” I picked up the expensive diamond necklace, put it back in its box, and pushed it across the table to him. “Liam, both of you make me sick.” “I have nothing going on with her! I didn’t betray you!” Liam almost yelled. He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor. “Vanessa… she’s just… she’s delusional! She made those posts up on purpose to show you! She’s trying to break us up, Chloe, you have to trust me!” Trust him? With what? “And the perfume?” My voice was quiet, but it cut right through his shouting. “That sweet scent she always wears. How did it get on you? Over and over again.” Liam’s lips trembled violently. His eyes darted around, avoiding my gaze. “I… I don’t know! Maybe in the elevator, or during meetings! The office is crowded, plenty of people use the same perfume!” “Why did you change your password?” I pressed on, giving him no room to breathe. “I… I just felt the old password wasn’t secure! I wanted to change it! What’s wrong with that? Don’t I even have the freedom to change my own phone password?” “Really?” I looked at him, my heart sinking to the absolute bottom. “Then what is your new password? Our anniversary, or her birthday?” That question hit him like a sledgehammer. His face turned from pale to ash-gray. His mouth opened, but not a single word came out. His sudden rigidity and guilt spoke volumes. “All those nights you ‘worked late’ until ten,” I continued, my voice growing colder and steadier. “Where were you? Who were you with? Should I call Vanessa over to clear this up? Or should we check your car’s dashcam and your credit card history?” “Chloe!” he snapped, his voice cracking with sheer panic and anger. “Do you have to be like this?! Do you have to investigate me? Is there no trust left between us?! I work my ass off out there every day for this home, for you! And you don’t even trust me?!” Trust. He actually dared to bring up trust at a time like this. I watched his flushed, agitated face. He looked like a clown, trying his hardest to perform a monologue full of plot holes. He didn’t offer a single real explanation. He just denied, accused, and tried to guilt-trip me with his “sacrifices for the family.” I saw the anger drain from him like a deflating balloon, leaving only panic. The last tiny spark of warmth in my heart died in this dead silence. “The password.” “Show me now. Or,” I paused, “you pack your bags and get out tonight.” Liam stood there, frozen, as if pinned by my words. “Chloe… do you really have to push me like this?” His voice sounded like sandpaper. “It’s my privacy…” “Privacy?” I took a step closer, staring into his dodging eyes. “You have two choices. No third option. Right now.” A few seconds of silence felt like an eternity. Finally, agonizingly slowly, he pulled out his phone. `[Paywall Node]` He closed his eyes and pressed his thumb hard against the screen. The phone unlocked, and the screen lit up.

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My cousin framed me for faking cancer. The day I finally saved $100,000 after working hard for seven years, I was diagnosed with late-stage liver cancer. To cure it, I needed at least $300,000. To save my life, my parents sold their car, mortgaged our house, and emptied their entire life savings. They begged every relative they knew to scrape together $200,000. On my way to the hospital for surgery, I bought a random scratch-off lottery ticket at a gas station. I won $300,000. Right then, Helen called me, sobbing. She said David had a sudden stroke, and his emergency surgery would also cost $300,000. Without a second thought, I wired my entire $100,000 savings to them. I felt so incredibly lucky. With this lottery win, both my dad and I could survive. But when I went to the lottery office to redeem the ticket, the clerk looked at me with pity. He told me it was just a prank card bought off Amazon. It was completely worthless. Crushed and hopeless, I dragged myself back home. Just as I reached the door, I heard my parents praising my cousin. “Chloe is so smart. With just one fake scratch-off card, she got Avery to hand over that $100,000.” “That ungrateful brat actually forged a terminal cancer diagnosis just to scam money from us! Thank God Chloe has sharp eyes and saw right through her!” But I had never lied. And tonight was my last chance to see the specialist. Without that surgery, even if I got the money later, it would be too late.

“That wretched girl must be out of her mind!” “Faking a terminal illness just to scam us for money to put into her bad investments! How could she?!” Through the thin door, I heard my parents’ furious shouts. My cousin, Chloe, sighed and chimed in. “I never expected Avery to do something so foolish either.” “That was a whole $100,000! If she threw it all into that sketchy startup, your family would have been ruined…” My parents looked at Chloe with immense gratitude, still shaking from the scare. “We owe you everything this time, Chloe. If it weren’t for you, our family would really be over…” My heart squeezed painfully. Since we were kids, my parents always believed Chloe over me. Chloe’s mother passed away early, so my parents showered her with extra love to make up for it. Over the years, their attention was always on her. They thought she was sweet, sensible, and incapable of lying. Even when Chloe blamed her own messes on me without any proof, they believed her unconditionally. Usually, I could swallow the unfairness. But this time, it was about my life. Why couldn’t they just ask me first? I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached for the doorknob, wanting to confront them. But then, I heard Chloe speak again. “So, what are you going to do with Avery’s $100,000?” David fell silent. After a long pause, he sighed heavily. “We’ll put it in a savings account for her, of course.” “It’s a lot of money. She worked so hard to save it.” “We only tricked her into giving it to us to teach her a lesson…” “Once she realizes her mistake and stops being foolish, we’ll give it back to her.” My hand slowly fell from the doorknob. Memory flashed back to the day I told them about my diagnosis. My parents’ eyes had turned red. They stared at the medical report for a long time. Then, Helen held me tight, crying. “Don’t be scared, sweetie. Mom and Dad will figure this out.” “We can find the money. Don’t worry.” After that, they secretly mortgaged their house and sold the car. To borrow enough money, they spent nights swallowing their pride, begging distant relatives and even applying for high-interest loans. “Avery is so young. We can’t just watch her die!” “Please, help us…” That was the most desperate, humbled version of my parents I had ever seen. They lowered themselves to the dirt for me. Even though they were biased toward Chloe, they did love me. Besides, I had already missed my scheduled surgery. I was doomed to die anyway. Maybe letting them believe this lie was for the best.

I gave up on telling them the truth. I didn’t go inside. Instead, I took a high-risk gig as an extreme stunt double. The jobs were dangerous—jumping off buildings, falling off cliffs, car crashes. But the perk was a massive life insurance policy. If I died on set, the payout would be over a million dollars. Irony of ironies, I proved to be incredibly hard to kill. I ended up with countless bruises and fractures, but nothing fatal. A month later, I received my first $10,000 paycheck. I immediately wired all of it to my parents’ account. I thought I could make a few more transfers before my time ran out. But that night, lying in my cheap, moldy rental room, I suddenly started coughing up blood. My body went ice-cold. After a long, agonizing struggle in the dark, I lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, my body felt weightless. The excruciating pain of cancer was gone. I floated in the air, looking down at my own body. I was slumped next to a dirty toilet. My clothes and the floor were stained dark red. I wasn’t sad. I actually felt a wave of relief. At least I managed to send that money to my parents first. Just then, my phone buzzed on the floor. A message from my parents popped up. “Don’t think sending us some money will make us forgive you for lying!” “Until you learn your lesson, we are keeping this $100,000!” I wanted to reply so badly. *It’s okay.* *Keep the money for your retirement.* *I don’t need it anymore.* But I couldn’t touch the phone. My hand passed right through it. My parents waited for two days. Seeing no reply, they got angry. “Ignoring us now? Still trying to play games?” “Or do you just not want your savings back at all?!” I still couldn’t reply. A few more days passed, and they tried to provoke me. “Fine! Since you don’t care about this money, we’ll spend it!” “Your cousin wants to start a business, and she’s $50,000 short.” They wired $50,000 to Chloe and sent a screenshot to my phone. When I still didn’t reply, they found other ways to spend it. They booked a $10,000 luxury cruise for themselves and Chloe. They took Chloe to expensive dinners and bought her designer jewelry. They took screenshots of every transaction and sent them to me. I grew anxious. My soul drifted onto the cruise ship, trying to warn them. “That money is for your retirement! You can’t waste it like this!” “And definitely don’t give it to Chloe!” “She is using you! She won’t take care of you!” But no matter how loud I screamed, they couldn’t hear me. By the time the cruise ended a week later, and there was still no word from me, Helen finally started to worry. “It’s been almost two months. She hasn’t come home. Could something have happened to her…?” David frowned, dismissing her. “She’s an adult. What could happen?” “She’s doing this on purpose to make us worry.” “She wants us to feel guilty so she can scam us again!” “Since she wants to play dead, I’ll force her hand!” David went home and made a viral TikTok video. He accused me of faking a terminal illness, stealing my family’s savings, and running away. He even posted my full name and workplace online. Overnight, I became the most hated person on the internet.

[How can anyone steal from their own parents? She’s a monster!] [She took their house and car! Left her elderly parents in debt… She deserves to rot in hell!] [Why isn’t she in jail? Someone find her!] [She should be locked up for life!] My company quickly posted a public statement online, saying I had resigned a month ago and that my actions had nothing to do with them. Dozens of strangers found my number and flooded my phone with abusive texts and calls. Some people even Photoshopped my face onto funeral portraits and spammed them in the comments. I couldn’t stop it. I could only watch the endless stream of hate notifications light up my dead screen. I smiled bitterly. *Well, at least they already made the funeral photos. They’ll need them soon.* Back home, my parents weren’t idle either. They threw out all my belongings and let Chloe move into my room. “Since you refuse to come back, your room is Chloe’s now.” “We’re throwing your stuff out if you don’t come get it by tomorrow!” I didn’t have much. Most of it was sentimental—birthday gifts my parents gave me, family photos, and school trophies. Things they used to display proudly in the living room were now shoved into a trash bag, sitting next to the garbage bin outside. When Chloe brought her bags in, she “accidentally” knocked over the trash bag. My things spilled out, mixing with the garbage. Chloe stepped right on them. The music box my dad had carved for me shattered. Our family photo was ruined by her dirty boot print. “Stop! Don’t touch that!” “Those are my memories! You have no right!” I tried desperately to block her. But my transparent hands just passed through her body over and over. Chloe deliberately ground her heel into my photos a few more times. When my parents opened the door, she quickly feigned panic. “David, Helen, I’m so sorry…” “I didn’t see the bag on the floor.” My parents looked uncomfortable for a second, but then they quickly brushed it off. “It’s fine. It’s just trash anyway.” “As long as you didn’t hurt yourself.” They welcomed Chloe in, helped her unpack, and cooked her favorite dinner. They looked so happy. Like they were the real family. The next day, when I still didn’t show up, my dad sent one last text. “You really hate us that much, huh?” “Fine. From this day on, we don’t have a daughter!” And they kept their word. They blocked my number and focused entirely on Chloe, pouring their remaining money into her business. They treated her like their only daughter. Until a month later, when the police finally discovered my body. The officer called my parents. “Is this the family of Avery Jiang?” “We found her body in a rental apartment. We need you to come identify her.”

Silence stretched over the phone line. After a long pause, Helen finally spoke. “You… must have the wrong person.” “My daughter is perfectly fine. She can’t be dead!” “Exactly!” David agreed loudly. “There are plenty of people with that name. You got the wrong number!” But despite their harsh words, panic flashed in their eyes. They hung up quickly. Chloe, who had listened to the whole call, had a flash of joy in her eyes before masking it with worry. “Do you think Avery is mad because I took her room? Maybe she hired actors to fake her death to scare you guys?” “I mean, she faked a whole cancer report before.” “Faking her death doesn’t seem out of character for her…” My parents looked at each other. Their faces hardened. “You’re right! That girl is a pathological liar!” “She’s ungrateful! We should have never had her!” Just then, the phone rang again. It was the police. “Sir, we ran a DNA match. There is no mistake.” “The deceased is your daughter, Avery Jiang.” “Cut the crap!” David spat into the phone. “We only have one daughter, and she is sitting right next to us!” “Whether Avery is dead or alive is none of our business!” “If she really died out there, just cremate her and throw her ashes in the trash!” “Don’t call us again!” David hung up and immediately blocked the number. Even though I knew they said this out of anger and misunderstanding, my soul still ached. I wanted to tell them. *Mom, Dad, I didn’t lie.* *I’m really dead…* *Please stop listening to Chloe…* *Why can’t you believe me just once?* Chloe brought them two glasses of warm water. “Helen, David, don’t be angry.” “Avery is just confused… Don’t worry, even if she doesn’t come back, I will take care of you guys forever.” “Good girl, thank God we have you.” Helen’s eyes softened as she held Chloe’s hand. “From now on, you are our real daughter.” “That ungrateful brat doesn’t deserve our thoughts.” Determined to cut me out of their lives, my parents deleted all my contact info. They even started discussing putting Chloe’s name on the deed of our house. Until two police officers showed up at their front door, holding my ID and photos. “We are the officers who called you earlier.” “Please look at these photos. Are you absolutely sure the deceased, Avery Jiang, has nothing to do with you?” “Her body has been in the morgue for too long. If you don’t claim her, we will have to handle it as an unclaimed body.”

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At my engagement party, in front of all our family and friends, my fiancé, Ethan Carter, suddenly projected a massive, detailed Excel spreadsheet onto the giant screen. “Chloe, since we’re getting married, we need to settle our accounts for the past three years.” “During our relationship, you drank 152 Starbucks lattes. I don’t drink sweet stuff, so you owe me for all of them.” “We stayed in hotels 58 times. You were the one who wanted to use condoms to avoid getting pregnant, meaning you were the sole beneficiary. So, you need to cover the full cost of those.” “And about that ultra-thin condom we used last night? It cost five dollars. You still haven’t Venmoed me your $2.50 share.” The ballroom fell into dead silence. I stared at his smug, self-righteous face. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It was a Venmo request from him. At the same time, a notification popped up on Instagram. Ethan had just posted a new story. It was a screenshot of his unpaid Venmo request to me. His caption read: *“Marry a wife, not an ancestor. Even brothers keep clear accounts! Avoid women who try to leech off you for $2.50!”* The comment section was already flooded with his friends calling me a “gold digger” and a “freeloader.” I stared at the Excel sheet on the screen and laughed. “Fine. Since you want to settle accounts…” “Let’s talk about how much rent you owe me for living in my apartment for the past three years.”

“Condoms.” The moment that word left his mouth, my mom almost fainted. But Ethan didn’t show a hint of shame. He stood there, microphone in hand, oozing confidence. “Over the last three years, we used exactly seven boxes.” “Chloe, let’s be logical. They were used to keep *you* from getting pregnant.” “Biologically speaking, you are the primary beneficiary of this product.” “Without them, you would have faced the risk of an unwanted pregnancy and medical procedures that would harm your body.” “So, logically, you should pay for them.” He paused, seeing that I remained silent, and clicked on the very last row of the spreadsheet to show the details. “The ultra-thin one we used last night was five dollars.” “You still owe me $2.50.” “According to our 50/50 rule, even if it was our last night before marriage, we have to keep the accounts clean.” The guests gasped in disbelief. Then, my phone buzzed again with social media notifications. Ethan had just posted a screenshot of the unpaid Venmo request on Snapchat and Instagram. His caption: *“Marry a wife, not an ancestor. Even brothers keep clear accounts! Avoid women who try to leech off you for $2.50!”* His toxic bros were already hyping him up in the comments. *“Bro, you’re a legend! Setting boundaries!”* *“Modern women are so entitled. Trying to get a free ride over a few bucks.”* *“Don’t let her leech off you, man!”* Looking at those comments, I suddenly burst out laughing. Ethan thought he had intimidated me. “Chloe, don’t play dumb,” he said, adjusting his collar. “The total is twenty-three thousand, four hundred and eighty-two dollars and fifty cents.” “Send it over, and we can go ahead with the wedding.” “But under one condition: after we marry, my mother will manage our finances.” “We will establish strict household rules. Everything will be 50/50.” “However, since you’re the woman, the chores are naturally your responsibility. That part won’t be 50/50.” The sheer audacity was mind-blowing. He wanted to split the bills 50/50, but wanted me to do 100% of the labor. I pulled out my phone and tapped the screen. Ethan’s eyes lit up as his phone buzzed. But the moment he saw the notification, his smile froze. It was a payment of $2.50. My note on Venmo read: *“Breakup fee. Keep the change.”*

“Chloe, what is the meaning of this?” Ethan snapped, his face turning red. “Are you treating me like a beggar?” I calmly walked up to the stage and took the microphone from his hand. “Ethan, didn’t you want to settle the accounts?” “That $2.50 is my share for the condom last night.” “As for the rest…” I swept my gaze over the whispering crowd, my voice echoing clearly through the speakers. “I drank those lattes, yes. But the designer sneakers I bought you cost two thousand dollars.” “You were the one who booked the hotels, but the gaming gear and top-ups I bought you cost at least five thousand.” “And the custom-tailored suit you are wearing right now? I paid eighty-eight hundred dollars for it.” “What’s wrong, Ethan? Is your Excel broken? Does it only calculate what you spend, but conveniently glides over what I spend?” Ethan gasped, momentarily speechless. But quickly, his embarrassment turned into pure rage. He yelled: “Those were gifts! You gave them to me voluntarily! You can’t ask for gifts back!” “But the money I spent was on things *you* consumed! It’s entirely different!” “Besides, you only bought me those things to suck up to me because you wanted to marry into my family!” “Now you want to use them to write off your debt? No way!” The double standards were truly spectacular. I sneered. “Marry into your family?” “With that cramped, run-down studio apartment of yours in the sketchy part of town?” “Or with your pathetic brain that makes you beg for $2.50 in public?” I hit him right where it hurt. Ethan’s biggest insecurity was his family background, and his biggest pride was his self-proclaimed identity as a “finance elite.” “Chloe Miller! Don’t you dare push your luck!” “Let me tell you, a materialistic woman like you will never find anyone else if you leave me!” “You’re already twenty-six! In a couple of years, you’ll be expired goods!” “I’m doing charity work by marrying you!” “Transfer the twenty-three grand right now, get down on your knees, and beg my mother for forgiveness. Then I might overlook this.” “Otherwise—” Before he could finish his sentence, I threw my glass of champagne right into his face. Ethan stared at me as if I were a lunatic. “Chloe! Did you just throw a drink at me?!” “You deserved it.” “Ethan, let me make this official.” “The wedding is off.” “Take your mother, take your Excel spreadsheet, and get the hell out of my sight.” I turned to my parents. “Mom, Dad, let’s go. This party is over.” My dad, who had been holding back his temper the entire time, finally lost it and flipped the main table. Ethan’s mother, who had been smugly watching the drama, immediately threw herself onto the floor, screaming and crying. “Assault! They are attacking us!” “They are abusing a poor widow and her son!” “Fine, the wedding is off! But you must pay us for emotional damages! Pay us!” The ballroom erupted into chaos. Ethan wiped the champagne from his face, pulled out his phone, and snapped a picture of me. “Fine, Chloe. You think you’re tough.” “Just wait. I will make you crawl back and beg for my forgiveness.” “When that time comes, the prenup will be even harsher, and your parents will have to apologize to me on their knees!” I didn’t even give him a second glance as I walked out of the venue.

The next morning, a loud, violent pounding woke me up. I didn’t even need to look at the security camera to know who it was. I lived in a luxury penthouse in the city center, over 3,500 square feet, with a private elevator entrance. I owned this entire place, but I had never told Ethan. To protect his fragile ego, I had lied and told him I was renting it, claiming I had begged the landlord for a massive discount. Ethan always complained that I was terrible with money and that renting a luxury penthouse was just pure vanity. Yet, when he moved in, he enjoyed it more than anyone. I opened the door. Ethan stood at the front. Behind him was his mother and his freeloader younger brother, Tyler. “Chloe, what took you so long?” Ethan pushed past me impatiently, acting as if nothing had happened last night. To him, my anger was probably just a temporary tantrum. “What do you think you’re doing?” I blocked the entryway, staring cold-bloodedly at them. Ethan assumed his “lord of the house” posture. “Since you decided to ruin the wedding, we need to talk about our post-breakup arrangements.” “Even though you rent this place, I lived here for three years.” “Now that I’m moving out, I need to take what’s mine.” He waved his hand at Tyler behind him. “Tyler, go inside and grab anything valuable.” Tyler grinned. “You got it, bro! Man, this place is huge! My sister-in-law really lived like a queen!” Ethan’s mother pushed her way in, her greedy eyes darting around the living room. “Oh my, this leather sofa looks expensive.” “And look at this TV! It must be worth thousands!” “Chloe, you’re just a single girl now. Keeping such a huge place is a waste.” She walked toward the living room as if she owned the place. I was stunned by their shamelessness. “Stop right there!” I barked. “This is my apartment. Who gave you permission to enter?” “This is trespassing. I will call the police.” Ethan turned around, looking at me as if I were stupid. “Chloe, you’re renting this place. It’s not even yours.” “Besides, we haven’t officially broken up yet.” “Even if we do, I’ve wasted three years of my youth on you. You paid the rent, but I paid with my time.” He walked over to the Italian leather sofa and plop down. “It works out perfectly. Tyler is getting married next month, and his fiancée wants a nice place.” “Since you’ve already paid the rent, it’ll be a waste to leave it empty.” “Tyler can use this as his wedding house for the next six months.” “You have plenty of money anyway. Consider this your compensation to the Carter family.” I laughed out of sheer anger. What kind of parasites were they? Not only did they refuse to leave, but they also wanted to steal my home for his brother’s wedding? Looking at Ethan’s smug face, I decided not to kick them out immediately. If they wanted to play dirty, I was going to ruin them. I quietly reached into my pocket and turned on the voice recorder on my phone. “Ethan, let me get this straight. You want to live here?” “And you want your brother to use my apartment for his wedding?” Ethan nodded. “Exactly. Be generous, Chloe.” “You embarrassed me in front of everyone last night. I haven’t even settled that score with you yet.” “Letting my brother use this place for six months will make us even.” “Oh, and you’ll need to prepay the rent for the next six months.” “If you don’t, I’ll go to your company and make a scene. I’ll tell everyone how you led me on and ruined my life.” I suppressed my rage, baiting him to say more. “And what if I say no?” Ethan’s mother rushed over, pointing her finger at my nose. “Say no? Who do you think you are to say no?” “My Ethan spent three years of his life with you! We’re being nice by not suing you for wasting his youth!” “If you don’t agree, I’ll move in today and never leave!” Ethan smiled triumphantly. “See that, Chloe? We have nothing to lose.” “You’re a professional woman. You wouldn’t want to make a public scene, would you?” “Be smart. Pack your things and get out.” “Oh, and leave your car keys behind. Tyler needs a nice car for his wedding convoy. Your BMW will do nicely.” I looked at the three of them. My heart grew colder and colder. Since you want to be criminals, don’t blame me for sending you to prison. I turned off the recording and pulled a can of pepper spray out of my bag. “You want my apartment? You want my car?” “Sure.” “Let’s see if you have the lives to enjoy them.”

Ethan laughed when he saw the pepper spray. “Chloe, who are you trying to scare with that toy?” “I dare you to spray me.” “I’ll sue you for assault and take every single penny you have!” His mother chimed in, “Exactly! You little bitch, you want to fight?” “Tyler, teach her a lesson!” Tyler had been waiting for this. He stepped forward. “Chloe, don’t make this hard on yourself. Give me the car keys, or I’ll make you.” I gripped the pepper spray, calculating the distance. But before Tyler could grab me, Ethan stepped in and held him back. “Tyler, don’t use violence. We are civilized people.” He turned his phone screen toward me and smirked. “Chloe, do you remember these?” I looked at the screen. It was a photo of me right after a shower, wrapped in a towel, wearing a face mask. Although it wasn’t explicit, the angle he took it from was extremely suggestive and malicious. I feigned panic. “Where did you get that? What do you want?” Ethan was extremely satisfied with my reaction. “Nothing much. But if you don’t agree to our terms…” “I will send these photos to your company’s Slack channels.” “And your building’s WhatsApp group. And your college alumni network.” “The headline will be: *’High-flying corporate female executive leads a double life, trying to seduce her boyfriend’s younger brother.’*” “Do you think you’ll still have a job after that? Will you even be able to show your face in public?” I sneered inwardly. He called *that* an intimate photo? Seducing his brother? His logic was truly pathetic. But on the outside, I kept up the act of a terrified victim. “Ethan, you are despicable! This is illegal!” Ethan laughed out loud. “Illegal? We were dating. It’s just a little couple’s fun. How is that illegal?” “But I don’t want to ruin you completely, Chloe.” “So, in addition to the apartment and the car…” “You will sign a promissory note.” “Five hundred thousand dollars. As compensation for the emotional distress you caused me over the past three years.” “Sign it, and I’ll delete the photos.” Ethan’s mother’s eyes turned green at the mention of half a million dollars. “Yes! Five hundred thousand! Not a penny less!” “With that money, Tyler can pay his wedding deposit!” Tyler smirked. “Just sign it, Chloe. Buy your peace.” “Otherwise, if the whole internet sees your body, how will you ever find another man?” I hesitated for a moment. “Fine. I’ll sign. But you have to promise to delete everything.” Ethan immediately pulled a pen and paper from his bag. He had come prepared. The note was written exactly to his specifications: *“I, Chloe Miller, due to personal relationship disputes, voluntarily agree to pay Ethan Carter $500,000 as compensation for emotional distress.”* I signed my name. Ethan’s grin was so wide it almost reached his ears. “See? If you had cooperated earlier, we wouldn’t have had to do this.” “Now, go pack your bags.” Looking at his triumphant back, a cold smile crept onto my face. Extortion. Blackmail. The amount involved was half a million dollars. In this country, that’s a grand larceny extortion charge. That’s ten years in federal prison, minimum. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Ethan frowned. “Who is it?” “Movers,” a loud voice called out. Ethan blinked and looked at me. “You called movers? Well, at least you’re quick.” He opened the door. Four burly men in matching professional moving uniforms stood outside. The leader looked at his clipboard. “Are you Ms. Miller?” Ethan pointed at me. “She is. But I’m in charge of this place now.” “You guys are here to move stuff, right? Move everything from the master bedroom down to the basement storage.” The mover ignored Ethan and looked directly at me. “Ms. Miller, as per your request, we are clearing out the entire apartment, correct?” I nodded. “Yes.” “Pack up everything. Except for the people and the trash. Take it all away.” Ethan froze. “What do you mean clear out the apartment? Chloe, what are you doing?” I walked to the entryway. “It means I’m moving out.” “And as for you guys…” “Since you love this place so much, you can enjoy living in an empty shell.” Ethan panicked. “No! Stop! You can’t take the furniture! If you clear the place, how is my brother going to get married?” He tried to block the movers. The lead mover, a six-foot-three giant, easily shoved Ethan aside with one arm. “Sir, do not interfere with our work.” Ethan’s mother immediately threw herself onto the floor, preparing to scream and cry. But a mover placed a massive wooden crate right next to her, almost pinning her foot down. “Watch out, lady. We’re moving a heavy cabinet here.” Ethan was crimson with rage. He pointed his finger at me. “Chloe Miller! Don’t tempt me! I will leak the photos right now!” I pulled out my phone and waved it. “Go ahead. And while you do that, I have some files to send to your company.” “For example, the audio recording of your extortion just now.” “And a photo of this signed promissory note.” Ethan’s face went pale. He clutched the note in his pocket, his eyes turning vicious. “You set me up? Tyler! Lock the door!” “Nobody leaves this apartment today!” “If you want to play dirty, let’s go down together!” The movers stopped, startled by the sudden escalation. I was slightly surprised. I didn’t expect them to be stupid enough to attempt false imprisonment. “Chloe, I wanted to leave you a way out,” Ethan snarled. “But you chose death.” “If you don’t wire the half-million dollars right now, you aren’t leaving this room!” The atmosphere turned incredibly tense. Suddenly, a loud, heavy banging rattled the front door.

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While I was bleeding out on the delivery table, Julian was screwing another woman. He thought I was stupid. He thought he had me completely under his control. Maybe he was just too confident in his Oscar-winning acting skills. He let his mother, Eleanor, walk all over me while pretending to be the doting husband, showering me with fake affection. He only regretted it when he lost everything. But I’ve finally woken up. I don’t want to be the sweet, stupid wife anymore. I’m going to be his worst nightmare. Right before I was wheeled into the OR, I finally got through to Julian. Over the line, I heard a woman’s breathless, needy moan. “Julian… slow down… you touched your phone…” “Forget the phone, babe. Let’s keep going…” Then came the sound of wet, messy kisses and the tearing of clothes. Neither of them cared who was calling, or why. My husband, the famous Hollywood star who told me he was stuck on set overnight, was currently in another woman’s bed. I recognized the voice. It was Serena, his co-star in his new blockbuster movie. They threw morals out the window, completely lost in each other. I could feel the blood slowly draining from my body. I was drenched in sweat, my tears mixing with the cold perspiration on my face. The noises from the phone kept playing. But the white-hot pain, like my bones were being crushed, made it impossible to think. I only heard the doctor scream, “Hurry! She’s hemorrhaging!” I was rushed into the OR. No one was by my side. No parents, no husband. I felt completely abandoned by the world. As the doctors frantically worked on me, the darkness finally swallowed me whole. Right before I lost consciousness, a single thought crystallized in my mind: I had to leave Julian. When I finally woke up from the anesthesia, a lone nurse was changing my IV drip. Seeing me open my eyes, she looked at me with deep pity. “Don’t worry, the baby is healthy. A very loud, cute little boy.” “But your husband’s mother took the baby home. She insisted she could take better care of him.” Panic and fury instantly flooded my brain. I screamed at the nurse, demanding to know how they could let her take my baby without my consent. Ignoring the agonizing pain from my C-section incision, I struggled to get out of bed. My baby—whom I had just risked my life to bring into this world—had been taken by a woman who hated my guts. I couldn’t tolerate this for even a second! The nurse was terrified. She slammed the emergency call button and summoned the doctors. It took four of them to pin me down and inject a sedative to finally make me stop thrashing. But the struggle had already torn my stitches, and blood was seeping through the bandages. Over the next few days, despite my constant screaming and fighting, the hospital finally let me sign the AMA forms on the seventh day. As they discharged me, they kept warning me that they wouldn’t be liable if anything happened to my torn stitches. I hated them, but to get my baby back, I didn’t waste any time arguing.

During those seven days, Julian had sneaked into my room once, wearing a black mask and sunglasses. Seeing me acting like a hysterical woman demanding to be discharged, his face filled with disgust. “Chloe, when did you become so trashy? When you were writing screenplays, didn’t you hate characters like this?” “My mom only took the baby because you’re in no condition to care for him. Can you stop making a scene?” He didn’t ask if I was in pain. He didn’t comfort me for having my baby snatched away. He just stood firmly on his mother’s side, coldly accusing me of being unreasonable. He didn’t even bother to explain why he wasn’t there when I was giving birth. I didn’t say a word to this man who had been sleeping with another woman while I was dying. I just kept demanding the doctor sign my discharge papers. Seeing me ignore him, he adjusted his mask and left in a hurry. I stared at his retreating back and let out a cold laugh. My heart was completely dead. He claimed he was busy with the movie, but he was probably just rushing back to pamper Serena. The first time I met Serena was during the lowest point of my life. That day, Eleanor had told me Julian was coming home for dinner and ordered me to cook a massive feast. At that point, I hadn’t seen Julian in six months. He had been cast by Director Miller in a massive romantic franchise. Aside from occasional brief phone calls, he barely even replied to my Snapchats. I knew he was busy, so I tried to be understanding and didn’t bother him. I handled everything at home by myself. Even when Eleanor treated me like garbage, I never complained. Because I knew how much Julian cared about his career. I had seen him on set. He was so dedicated, practically glowing under the spotlights. As his biggest fan and his wife, I felt it was my duty to be his perfect supporter. So, I spent the entire day preparing a gourmet dinner. Everything was Julian’s favorite. Eleanor actually praised me for once, but the moment she saw what I was wearing, her face fell. “Look at you. You look like a maid. Your hair is so greasy you could fry an egg on it, and you smell like a kitchen.” “Julian used to talk about how talented you were, what a great writer you were. Now you look no different from a homeless person on the street.” She took a step back, her disgust obvious. I looked down at myself. I was soaked in sweat, and my clothes smelled like grease and oil. I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t find the words to argue back. I remembered the girl who used to stand confidently in front of cameras, talking about her screenplays. She felt like a completely different person now. I could only nervously rub my apron. Just then, the doorbell rang. It was Julian, and next to him was a flawlessly dressed, stunning girl. Her features were striking and elegant, her outfit simple yet expensive. I stood there, frozen in embarrassment. Compared to her, I really did look like a paid maid. And that was exactly how Eleanor introduced me. Eleanor smiled, pulling Serena into the living room, showering her with warmth and compliments she had never shown me. Serena obviously understood the underlying meaning. Though she acted coy, she handled Eleanor perfectly. The two of them sat together. Serena looked far more like the daughter-in-law of this house than I did.

As for Julian, from the moment he walked in, he didn’t look at me once. He agreed with everything his mother said, playing the perfect host, pouring water and peeling fruit for Serena. They left me standing there like a clown. Until finally, the tears in my eyes could no longer be held back. I swallowed my humiliation and hid in the kitchen. Listening to their laughter from the living room, I wiped my tears and started packing up the leftovers. That night in our bedroom, I asked Julian why he hadn’t introduced me as his wife. “You worked so hard in the kitchen all day, you deserved a break. Let Mom and me handle hosting the guests.” Julian’s answer was warm and gentle. He didn’t mind my greasy hair. He ran his fingers through it and smiled softly. In that single moment, all my resentment vanished. As long as Julian loved me, it didn’t matter how much Eleanor hated me. After all, I was Julian’s legal wife. But Eleanor’s attitude still stung. Later that night, I finished the vile holistic fertility shake Eleanor had prepared for me. The bitter aftertaste clung to my throat. It was a special recipe Eleanor had gotten from some sketchy holistic guru. She claimed it guaranteed a baby boy. She blamed me for not getting pregnant sooner. But we had only been married for a year, and Julian had been away on set for eight months of it. I couldn’t explain my innocence, so I just drank the bitter shakes every day. The drink was incredibly vile. I didn’t know what was in it, but the first time I drank it, I threw up my stomach lining. But to please Eleanor, and to have a baby soon, I forced it down every single day despite the nausea. I just could never get used to that lingering bitterness. So that night, I went to the kitchen to grab one of the grapes left over from Serena’s visit to wash out the taste. Just to get a little sweetness back in my mouth. As I passed Eleanor’s bedroom, I heard her complaining to Julian. She said my family had no money, that I was plain-looking, and had zero class. She said only a true high-society heiress like Serena was worthy of him. She said if I didn’t get pregnant soon, Julian should just divorce me so I wouldn’t waste his prime years. I couldn’t hear Julian’s response. But when he returned to our room that night, he acted completely normal. He even held me tight, saying we should try harder to have a baby. I didn’t make a scene. I didn’t confront him. Because I believed Julian understood my struggles. Back when he asked me to give up my screenwriting career to become a housewife, he had promised me: No matter what I looked like, he would love me, just as I loved him. But now, recalling Julian’s disgusted, biased accusations in the hospital… And thinking of the breathless moans and wet kisses on the phone right before my surgery… I could no longer lie to myself. No man who loves his wife would be in another woman’s bed while she was giving birth. And he certainly wouldn’t let his mother steal my baby. … When I reached the front door of our house, the warm sound of baby talk and laughter drifted through the cracks. I didn’t open the door. I just stood there, listening quietly. “Say mommy, sweetie~ Look, this is your mommy now, okay?” Hearing Eleanor’s voice made my blood run cold. I wanted to burst in and rip my son out of her arms. I had to dig my nails into my palms to keep myself from screaming. I quietly pulled out my phone, turned on the voice recorder, and held the mic close to the door. “Serena, dear, now that we have the baby, Julian can divorce Chloe very soon.” “If Julian hadn’t been worried about your body, not wanting you to go through the pain of pregnancy, he would never have touched a stupid woman like Chloe.” “She actually believed Julian loved her. She even went through all the pain of egg retrieval and IVF just to give Julian a child.” Eleanor didn’t even try to hide her malice. She was using my open wounds to please Serena. Serena seemed highly satisfied with both Julian’s and Eleanor’s attitude. She kept teasing my baby, whispering, “Call me mommy.” Every single “mommy” felt like a knife twisting in my heart. I could accept my mother-in-law hating me. I could accept Julian’s betrayal and divorce. But my baby—the one I had risked my life to carry—I would never, ever let them have him. I remembered the excruciating pain of the egg retrieval process, and the sheer joy when the embryo transfer succeeded. And now, the throbbing pain of my C-section scar flared up. I closed my eyes and forced back my tears. When I opened them again, they were cold, burning with a desire for vengeance. I stopped the recording and saved the audio. I backed it up to the cloud. I would make them realize that a “stupid woman” like me was more than capable of dragging them straight to hell.

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At 2:00 AM, I scrolled past a viral post. The headline read: **[My husband’s first six wives are all dead. I’m number seven.]** It was posted three years ago. The account had already been deactivated. But screenshots of the post had been reshared over thirty thousand times. I stared at the image on my screen, a cold shiver running down my spine. It wasn’t because of the text. It was because— The face of the woman in that screenshot looked exactly like mine. My name is Hazel. I’m twenty-eight. Three months ago, I married Julian Vance. He is fifteen years older than me. He is a prominent tech mogul in Seattle—elegant, generous, and incredibly charming. He spent two whole years chasing me before I finally said yes. Everyone told me how lucky I was. “Hazel really hit the jackpot. How did she land a guy like him?” “He’s handsome, filthy rich, and completely devoted. He’s a catch of a lifetime.” “I heard his late wife passed away years ago. He stayed single for so long, and now he’s finally moving on.” Hearing those words always made my heart flutter. Julian really was perfect. He remembered every little thing I liked. He would drive thirty minutes in the middle of the night just to get me my favorite dessert. He would bring warm takeout to my office when I worked late. He would hold me and soothe me until midnight whenever I was upset. From the day we met to the day we married, he had never once raised his voice at me. On our wedding day, he looked at me, his eyes rimmed with red. “Hazel,” he whispered, “I’ve finally found you.” I thought this was what perfect love looked like. Until today. It was the weekend. Julian had gone to the office for a meeting, leaving me home alone to clean up the study. Usually, he didn’t let me in here, claiming it held highly confidential business documents. But today, he had smiled and told me I could tidy it up if I wanted to. I began taking the books out one by one to dust them. When I reached the third shelf, I noticed a hollow panel behind a row of encyclopedias. Inside the hidden compartment was a thick, heavy manila folder. I hesitated for a second, but curiosity won. I opened it. Inside were six sets of files. On the first page of each file was a small passport photo. Six different women. Different faces, different ages, but all strikingly beautiful. Attached to the back of each file was a series of documents. A copy of a marriage certificate. A death certificate. A deed to a cemetery plot. The very last page was a handwritten spreadsheet. Name, age, date of marriage, date of death, cause of death. First wife: Audrey, 26. Married: 03.12.2015. Died: 01.08.2016. Cause of death: Car accident. Second wife: Chloe, 25. Married: 06.21.2016. Died: 02.14.2017. Cause of death: Drowning. Third wife: Brooke, 27. Married: 09.03.2017. Died: 05.19.2018. Cause of death: Fall from a balcony. Fourth wife: Diana, 26. Married: 11.11.2018. Died: 07.23.2019. Cause of death: House fire. Fifth wife: Elena, 28. Married: 01.05.2020. Died: 10.30.2020. Cause of death: Carbon monoxide poisoning. Sixth wife: Fiona, 27. Married: 04.17.2021. Died: 02.08.2022. Cause of death: Accidental fall. My hands began to shake violently. Julian had told me he only had one late wife, who died of an illness. But there were six. Six women. Six wives. Six death certificates. The longest marriage lasted a year and two months. The shortest was only nine months. Was he marrying them? Or was he murdering them? I flipped to the very last page. The seventh wife. The page was mostly blank, except for one completed row: Name: Hazel. Date of Marriage: 03.12.2024. Date of Death: — Cause of Death: — I stared at the blank spaces, and my blood ran absolutely cold. Right then, the sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the house. Julian was back.

I frantically shoved the folder back into the hidden compartment, threw the books back into place, and stood up just as the study door swung open. Julian stood in the doorway, watching me. He was wearing a dark gray dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a warm, gentle smile on his face. “Hazel, what are you doing in here?” “I… I was just cleaning up the study,” I said, my voice tight and strained. “You said I could, right?” “I did.” He walked into the room, cast a brief glance at the bookshelf, and then looked back at me. “Are you tired?” “No.” “Why is your face so pale?” “Maybe… maybe a slight dizzy spell. My blood sugar might be low.” He immediately stepped forward, gently gripping my shoulders. “Then stop cleaning. Go sit on the couch. I’ll get you some orange juice.” His hands on my shoulders were warm and firm. Just like they always were. But right now, his hands felt like the claws of a predator, ready to tighten at any second and snap my neck. “Okay,” I whispered. He guided me out of the study, pressed me gently into the living room sofa, and walked into the kitchen to grab the drink. I sat there, my entire body stiff. My mind was screaming with the details of those six files. Six women. Six accidents. Seven years. An average of one death per year. Every single one of them died in a way that left his hands completely clean. What was he? How did he do it? Why did no one ever notice? How was he still walking free? Julian walked back into the living room, sat down beside me, and handed me the glass. “Drink it slowly.” I took the glass and took a small sip. The juice was sweet. But I couldn’t taste a thing. “Hazel,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet. “Did you find something?” My hand jerked. The juice almost spilled onto my lap. “W-what?” He looked at me. His eyes were incredibly gentle, like he was looking at a piece of fragile porcelain. “I saw the study door open,” he said. “Did you open the hidden compartment?” I raised my head to meet his eyes. His eyes were a deep, warm hazel, catching the light like polished amber. There was no malice in them. Only a calm, quiet curiosity. As if he were simply asking what I wanted for dinner. “I…” The words caught in my throat. He let out a soft sigh. He reached out, gently took the glass from my hands, and set it on the coffee table. “Hazel,” he said, “I was planning on telling you eventually.” Telling me what? That you killed six people? Or that I’m supposed to be number seven? He took my hand in his. His hand was large and warm, completely wrapping around mine. “Those women,” he said. “You saw them?” I nodded slowly. “Do you think I killed them?” I couldn’t speak. He let out a dry, bitter laugh. “Hazel, if I told you I didn’t kill them, would you believe me?” I stared at him, my mind blank. He sighed again. Then he pulled out his phone, scrolled through it for a moment, and turned the screen toward me. On the screen was a post. The headline was: **[My husband’s first six wives are all dead. I’m number seven.]** It was the exact same post I had seen at 2:00 AM. The username of the poster: Hazel. Date of post: Three years ago. I froze.

“Three years ago,” Julian said, “I stumbled across this post online.” He swiped down on the screen. “The poster used your name, and the photo attached was your face. But back then, I didn’t even know you existed.” I stared at the photo on the screen. The face was undoubtedly mine. But the eyes were different. The woman in the photo had cold eyes. Cold as a frozen lake in the dead of winter. “I was shocked,” Julian said. “Because every single detail in this post was absolutely true.” He scrolled down to the comments section. *[Is the husband the tech mogul from Seattle? I think I saw his late wife’s obituary in the news.]* *[Six wives are dead? That’s too much of a coincidence.]* *[OP, you need to run! Are you waiting to become number seven?]* *[I looked it up. There are indeed five public obituaries. The sixth one hasn’t been made public yet.]* *[Is OP okay? Can someone update us?]* The very last comment was from the original poster herself: *[I managed to escape. But he is hunting me. If anything happens to me, please send this thread to the police.]* The reply was timestamped three years ago, on a cold winter night. After that, the account never logged in again. Julian slid his phone back into his pocket and looked at me. “Do you understand now?” I didn’t. I didn’t understand at all. “The woman who wrote that post,” he said, “looked exactly like you. She went by the name Hazel. She was my sixth wife.” The sixth one. Fiona. But the name on the spreadsheet was Fiona. “Wasn’t her name Fiona?” I whispered. “That was the alias she used after she ran away,” Julian explained. “She was terrified I would find her.” My brain was spinning out of control. “Then where is she now…?” “She’s dead,” Julian said quietly. “Three years ago, she died in a car accident in your hometown.” A car accident. But the cause of death listed for the sixth wife was an accidental fall. Not a car accident. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You’re wondering if I’m lying. You’re wondering if someone else killed her.” I remained silent. He stared at me, his gaze incredibly complex. “Hazel, have you ever wondered why you look exactly like her?” I froze. “Have you ever wondered why your parents died when you were just a toddler?” “What are you trying to say?” He was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his words made my entire body go numb. “Hazel isn’t your real name. You aren’t who you think you are. You are someone else entirely.” *** *(Paywall Cliffhanger)*

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I was four years old when my eight-year-old sister, Autumn, drowned. Starting from the year I turned five, on the anniversary of her death, my mother would drag me to the water and hold my head under the freezing surface. “Don’t struggle,” she would whisper, her voice trembling. “This is exactly how your sister felt when she sank.” Only when I was on the verge of death would she cry, pull me out of the water, and hold my shivering body, screaming my sister’s name. “I saved you. I actually saved you this time.” Every year on that day, my mother re-enacted this twisted ritual of redemption. And I was her only toy. When I was six, she got annoyed because my struggling “ruined the realism.” So, she tied my hands and feet with nylon ropes. When I was nine, she decided the bathwater wasn’t cold enough. She filled the tub with ice bags, holding my head under for over a minute. When I was twelve, to make it even more realistic, she mixed thick, smelly river mud into the water. I choked on it and coughed up blood for two weeks. My father never stopped her. He just stood by, watching with cold, indifferent eyes. Today is my eighteenth birthday. The day I legally become an adult. This time, my mother brought me to the very riverbank where Autumn died. “After today, your sister would have been this age,” she murmured. Then, with her own hands, she pushed me into the rushing, turbulent river. As the icy water flooded my lungs, for the first time in my life, I felt a strange sense of peace. Autumn only died once. But I, from the age of five to seventeen, had died thirteen times. My only birthday wish this year was simple: Let this be my final death. 1 “Get your ass up here! Maya, do you think you’re being funny?!” Victoria’s sharp, screeching voice pierced through the muddy surface of the river. I looked down at myself. My body felt weightless, like a patch of mist hovering a few feet above the water. Beneath the surface, the fierce current was dragging a lifeless body, slamming it hard against the sharp rocks at the bottom of the river. That body was mine. The sound of bones snapping was drowned out by the roaring water, but I felt an unprecedented sense of relief. For eighteen years, I was finally, truly warm. On the riverbank, Victoria was pacing impatiently, her high heels sinking into the muddy shore. She was wearing a long black trench coat today. That was her signature outfit, reserved exclusively for the anniversary of Autumn’s death. “I’m counting to three! If you don’t pop your head out of that water, don’t expect a single penny for your allowance this month!” Victoria glared at the swirling water, her eyes flashing with pure rage at my disobedience. No one answered her. Only the cold waves kept crashing against the rocky shore. A few steps behind her, Richard was looking down, trying to light a cigarette. The lighter flickered several times in the damp wind before finally catching. He took a deep drag, exhaling the cheap tobacco smoke into the humid air. “Alright, stop yelling. After all these years, she can hold her breath like a fish. She’s probably just trying to scare you.” Richard pointed his cigarette at the river, his tone as casual as if he were talking about the weather. Victoria let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Scare me? She wouldn’t dare!” “Your sister was in this exact river, in water just this deep,” she screamed at the empty river. “When Autumn went down, she didn’t even have the strength to struggle!” “But you? I threw you in just a few minutes ago, and now you’re playing hide-and-seek with me?” Hovering in the air, I watched her twisted, hysterical face. Autumn was my older sister. Victoria always got like this. The moment Autumn’s name was mentioned, she would spiral into a state of psychotic obsession. “Victoria, the current is actually pretty strong today. Maybe I should grab a branch and poke around?” Richard suggested, exhaling another cloud of smoke. It was a rare moment of concern from him. Victoria snapped her head around, glaring at him with pure hatred. “Poke around for what? You always spoil her!” “This is her baptism into adulthood! Without this, how is she supposed to live on behalf of Autumn?!” Hearing those words, my dead heart seemed to flinch out of pure instinct. Live on behalf of Autumn. That was the sole purpose of my existence. It was the only reason I had endured thirteen years of torture. When I was fifteen, I caught a severe flu and ran a fever of 104 degrees. I didn’t even have the strength to stand. I could only curl up on the cold floor of my bedroom. But that day happened to be the anniversary of Autumn’s death. Victoria kicked my door open, carrying a bucket of fresh snow she had shoveled from the yard, mixed with sharp ice chunks. “Stop playing dead. Get up. Time for the tub.” She grabbed me by my hair and dragged me out of the room. “I’m so cold… I have a fever…” I sobbed, desperately clawing at the doorframe, my tears mixing with cold sweat. “Please, not today. I’m really going to die…” Victoria paused for a second. But in the next second, she slammed her high heel right onto the back of my hand. “A fever? Autumn was trapped under the ice for a whole day and night! Have you ever thought about how cold she was?!” “Your little fever is nothing! Get in the tub, now!” That day, she dumped the bucket of ice and snow into the freezing bathwater and shoved my head under. The ice chunks scraped against my face like razor blades. I struggled wildly under the water, the air in my lungs slowly being squeezed out. And she just stood by the tub, holding a stopwatch. “Don’t move! Autumn drowned because she ran out of strength. You must perfectly recreate her pain!” Only when my eyes rolled back and I lost consciousness did she finally drag me out. She held my soaking wet, limp body and wailed at the ceiling. “Autumn! I finally saved you! I wasn’t too late this time!” That fever turned into severe pneumonia. I was hospitalized for two weeks. The day I was discharged, Victoria didn’t show up. She only had Richard bring me a message: “Your mom says you’re too weak. You don’t even have half of Autumn’s strength. She wants you to wash your face with ice water every morning from now on.” And now, at eighteen, I had finally completed her perfect recreation. I didn’t struggle. I went straight down, and I never came back up. On the bank, Victoria checked her watch, her brows furrowing deeper. “Maya! It’s been five minutes! Are you still playing dead down there?!” She bent down, picked up a heavy rock, and threw it into the middle of the river. The rock splashed into the water, sinking instantly. “Fine! If you want to stay down there, then don’t ever come up!” Victoria brushed the dirt off her hands and turned to Richard. “Richard, go grab my telescopic fishing rod from the trunk. She must be hiding under some weeds just to spite me!” 2 Richard threw his half-smoked cigarette onto the ground and crushed it under his boot. “I told you we shouldn’t have come to a real river. The bathtub at home was fine,” he muttered, turning around and walking sluggishly toward their car to search the trunk. Victoria crossed her arms. “The bathtub? Does the bathtub have this kind of strong current?” she yelled after him. “Autumn died in a real river. If Maya doesn’t choke on some real river water, how is she ever going to understand the despair Autumn felt?!” I hovered above Victoria, watching her self-righteous face. Even though I was already dead, hearing her words still sent a familiar, icy shiver through my soul. A cold gust of wind blew by, rustling the dead leaves on the shore. It had been ten minutes since I was thrown into the water. The rushing river showed no signs of life. Not even a single bubble popped up. A few locals walking along the levee stopped, whispering and looking down at the riverbank. “Excuse me, did you just throw something into the river?” a middle-aged woman asked, stepping closer with a worried look. “I swear I saw a girl go in.” Victoria turned around, looking at the woman as if she were a disgusting bug. “None of your business. I’m parenting my own daughter. Do I need your permission?” The woman gasped, her eyes widening in shock. “Are you insane?! The current is incredibly fast today! She’s going to drown!” “You threw your own daughter in? That’s murder!” The man standing next to the woman panicked and pulled out his phone. “This is crazy. Call 911! This is a crime!” The moment Victoria heard “911,” her face darkened. She lunged forward and grabbed the man’s hand, forcing his phone down. “Don’t you dare call the police! I told you, she’s my daughter! She’s just throwing a tantrum!” “She’s been training in the water since she was a kid. She can hold her breath for seven or eight minutes. She’s definitely hiding under some river weeds right now just to scare me!” The man took a step back, frightened by the psychotic look in her eyes, but he kept a tight grip on his phone. “Are you out of your mind?! Nobody can hold their breath for eight minutes in a rapid current like this! You need mental help!” “Richard! Where the hell are you?! Get over here and get these freaks away from me!” Victoria screamed toward the car. Richard finally ambled back, dragging a long, extendable fishing rod. Seeing the conflict, his brow furrowed. “What’s the shouting about? Move along, people. It’s just a family matter,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, as if shooing away stray dogs. “A family matter?! Throwing a kid into a raging river is a family matter?!” the woman yelled, pointing right at Richard’s nose. “Are you even her father?! Why aren’t you jumping in to save her?!” Richard’s face turned red from the yelling, but he just stubbornly argued back. “Save her from what? Her mother knows what she’s doing. She won’t die.” “Besides, she’s the one refusing to come up. Even if I go in, it won’t do any good.” Watching Richard’s indifferent face, I suddenly remembered a small incident from when I was sixteen. Back then, because of the constant exposure to ice water and mud, I had developed severe chronic arthritis. Whenever it rained, my knees felt like they were being pierced by thousands of hot needles. One day, because my test score was two points lower than what Autumn used to get, Victoria locked me in the basement right next to the deep freezer. She forced me to stand pressed against the icy metal wall. “Autumn didn’t even get the chance to go to school, and you dare to score lower than her?!” The pain was unbearable. While Victoria was upstairs taking a phone call, I used a cheap burner phone I had hidden in my shoe to dial 91

The moment the call connected, I felt like I had grabbed a lifeline. “911, please help me… my mom is freezing me to death…” Before I could finish, a rough hand reached from behind and snatched the phone away. It was Richard. He looked at the “911” on the screen and hung up without a second thought. I looked at him, completely heartbroken. “Dad… please. My bones hurt so bad. I’m going to be crippled…” Richard slipped the phone into his pocket and looked down at me, his eyes completely devoid of warmth. “Maya, your mother is sick. She’s suffered a lot. Can’t you just cooperate with her?” “Do you really want the police to show up and ruin this family before you’re satisfied?” He sighed, acting like a tired, noble peacekeeper. “Just endure it. She’ll let you out once she calms down.” With that, he walked out and locked the basement door, leaving me alone in the freezing, pitch-black darkness. Since that day, I knew. In this house, Victoria was the one holding the knife, and Richard was the one who handed it to her and buried the bodies. Neither of them was innocent. Suddenly, a cluster of bubbles popped up on the river surface. Right after, a white canvas sneaker floated up, spinning slowly in the whirlpool. It was the new pair of shoes I had put on just this morning. “Oh my god! Something happened! That’s a shoe!” The woman screamed, shoving Victoria aside, and snatched her husband’s phone to dial 911. “Yes! Emergency! A crazy woman just threw her daughter into the river and drowned her! Get here right now!” Seeing the shoe, Victoria’s face finally flickered with a trace of unease. But it was only for a split second. In the next moment, she laughed even louder. “Maya, you’re getting really good at acting.” She screamed at the river, her voice filled with a sick, manic excitement. “Officer, she’s really just playing a prank!” she yelled at the woman’s phone. “She’s an amazing swimmer! She’s just holding her breath to scare me!” “Just wait until the police get here, she’ll crawl right back up!” I looked down at the lonely canvas shoe floating away. Mom, I was actually a terrible swimmer. I just got used to not struggling in the water.3 Screaming sirens shattered the heavy silence over the canal. Two police cruisers and a water rescue truck roared onto the levee, slamming their brakes. Several officers and rescue team members in full gear quickly hopped out and rushed to the bank. “What’s the situation? Who called?” The lead officer, a young man named Detective Carter, asked with a deep frown as he walked over. “Me! Officer! This crazy woman threw her own daughter into this overflow canal! It’s been almost twenty minutes!” the local woman pointed at Victoria, jumping in panic. Detective Carter took one look at the raging current, and his face turned pale. “Rescue team! Get in the water now! Prepare the sonar and the nets!” Several rescue divers immediately began putting on their life vests and securing safety ropes around their waists. But Victoria stepped forward, blocking the divers. “Do not go into that water!” She tilted her chin up, her eyes blazing with arrogant fury. “This is a private family matter! Who gave you permission to interfere?!” “My daughter is playing hide-and-seek with me! If you jump in, you’re going to scare her!” Detective Carter stood frozen for a few seconds, utterly dumbfounded by her insane logic. “Ma’am, do you have any idea how fast this current is? Holding her breath for twenty minutes? Do you think she has gills?” He shoved her aside. “Obstructing justice. I can arrest you right now.” Victoria stumbled back, nearly falling into the mud. Richard quickly caught her and stepped forward with a fake, placating smile. “Officer, please, don’t be mad. My wife… she’s had some trauma, her head isn’t quite right…” He pointed to his temple and lowered his voice. “But really, our girl is just throwing a fit. She’s been doing this ‘diving’ thing since she was little. It’s weird, but she’s totally fine.” Hovering above them, I looked at Richard’s disgusting, cowardly face. He knew people couldn’t survive twenty minutes underwater. He was just so used to protecting Victoria, so used to painting my pain and my life as a “minor family drama” to keep the peace. “Get out of the way!” Detective Carter snapped, pushing Richard back and barking into his radio. “Team One, search downstream along the banks! Team Two, get underwater now! Hurry!” The divers, equipped with waterproof searchlights and sonar devices, plunged into the cold, murky water one after another. Victoria stood on the bank, calmly brushing her windblown hair behind her ears. Watching the busy rescue team, she let out a mocking sneer. “What a dramatic show. Ridiculous.” She turned to Richard. “Richard, do you think Maya did this on purpose? To make a scene so the whole world thinks I abuse her?” “How can a child be so malicious? Autumn was so sweet and obedient. Why did Maya have to turn out so rebellious?” Richard stared at the water in silence. He didn’t agree, but he didn’t defend me either. Malicious? Hearing her accusation, I wanted to laugh. When I was seventeen, I studied myself to the bone and won a local youth competition. It came with a $1,000 cash prize. I ran home that day, clutching the envelope, my heart bursting with joy. I wanted to buy Victoria a designer silk scarf she had been staring at in a department store window for months but couldn’t afford. I wanted to tell her that I could be good too. I wanted to make her proud. But when I presented the certificate and the cash to her with both hands, she didn’t smile. She stared at the certificate, her eyes turning colder and more maniacal by the second. “You won a prize?” Her voice shook. Suddenly, she raised her hand and slapped me across the face so hard my ears rang. “Who do you think you are, winning prizes?!” “Autumn died when she was eight! She will never get to win anything!” “What are you trying to do? Brag? Bragging that you lived longer than her? That you’re better than her?!” That day, she dragged me to a filthy, stagnant swamp on the outskirts of town. She tore the $1,000 cash into shreds and threw them into the mud. Then, she shoved my face into the rotten leaves and black sludge. “Eat it! Eat everything you owe your sister!” I choked on the mud and coughed up blood for two weeks. My lungs still had a shadow on the X-rays. That was the day I realized that no matter what I did, in her eyes, I was just a criminal who had stolen her precious daughter’s life. “Detective Carter! The sonar got a hit!” In the middle of the river, a diver popped his head out and yelled. The shout snapped me out of my memories. Everyone froze, locking their eyes on that patch of water. “About twelve feet deep, wedged in the gap between the bridge pillars! There’s a clear human outline!” The detective rushed to the edge. “Is she breathing?! Any signs of life?!” The diver took a deep breath and plunged back down. Ten seconds later, he surfaced, his face pale. “No signs of struggle… the current is too strong, her clothes are tangled in the weeds…” He paused, his voice trembling. “She’s… she’s gone.” A suffocating silence fell over the bank. The onlookers gasped, some covering their mouths in horror. Detective Carter clenched his fists, turning around to glare at Victoria. “Is this what you call a tantrum?!” But Victoria didn’t even blink. She pulled a pack of wet wipes from her trench coat pocket and slowly wiped the mud off her hands. “Alright, cut the act,” she shouted at the divers in the water. “How much did she pay you guys to act in her little drama? Pretty convincing, I’ll give you that.” “Maya! I’m counting to three! If you don’t get your ass out of there right now, don’t you ever think about stepping foot in my house again!” “One!” “Two!” “We got her! Pull her up!” With a loud splash, three divers worked together to drag a body, covered in mud and river weeds, out of the water. 4 The heavy, wet sound of a body being dragged onto the muddy grass echoed along the shore. She was laid there like a broken ragdoll. Her clothes had been shredded by the rocks and current, exposing pale, bruised skin. Her face was completely buried under thick river weeds and foul-smelling mud, making her unrecognizable. Water kept dripping from her soaked hair. There was no movement. No breath. “Start CPR! Now!” Detective Carter yelled, dropping to his knees in the mud. He placed his hands on her chest and began pumping hard. One, two, three… But only muddy water mixed with dark red blood seeped from her mouth and nose. “It’s no use, Detective.” The medical examiner, who had just arrived with his kit, knelt down. He checked her pupils and felt her carotid artery. “Submersion time exceeds twenty minutes. Cardiac arrest. Pupils are dilated and fixed. I’m calling it. She’s dead.” Those words fell like a sledgehammer, crushing the hearts of everyone standing there. The local woman burst into tears, pointing at Victoria and screaming, “You monster! You actually killed your own daughter!” Victoria stood frozen, her feet seemingly glued to the mud. She stared at the lifeless body on the grass. Her eye twitched slightly. But the deep-seated pride and psychosis in her bones still kept her spine straight. “Dead? How could she be dead?!” She let out a sharp laugh, stepping forward in her high heels. “Maya, your little guilt trip is getting more and more elaborate. You even fooled the police.” She looked down at the corpse. “Putting mud on your face to make it look real? Do you think that’s going to make me feel sorry for you?” “Get up! Stand up right now!” She suddenly bent down, raising her hand to slap the cold face of the corpse. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Detective Carter grabbed her wrist and threw her back with force. “Do you have a single drop of humanity left?! She’s dead, and you still want to abuse her corpse?!” Victoria stumbled back, and Richard rushed to hold her. But Richard’s face was already ghost-white. He stared at the familiar shape of the body, his voice shaking violently. “Victoria… maybe… maybe we should look at her face… What if… what if it’s really Maya…” “Shut up!” Victoria shrieked like a cat that had its tail stepped on. “She’s a great swimmer, she can’t be dead! This must be some other unlucky brat who fell into the river, and Maya is using her body to play a trick on me!” She pointed at the corpse, her voice absolutely certain. “This is definitely not Maya! Maya is a coward who’s terrified of pain! She wants to live more than anyone!” Hovering in the air, I looked down at her with a cold smile. Yes, Mom. I used to want to live more than anyone. I wanted to live so I could go to college, escape that house, and see a world that wasn’t filled with ice water and mud. But you were the one who personally strangled every single hope I had. “Since the family refuses to believe it, doctor, clean the victim’s face. Let her see clearly!” Detective Carter barked, holding back the urge to draw his gun. The medical examiner nodded. He took a bottle of clean water and some sterile gauze, gently washing away the thick layers of black mud from the girl’s face. As the features slowly became clear, the smirk on Victoria’s face completely froze. It was a young, pale, bloodless face. Eyes closed, lips tightly shut. Even the tiny dark mole on her left eyebrow was clearly visible. But the medical examiner wasn’t done. He gently pulled back the wet collar of her shirt, exposing her collarbone and neck. “Detective Carter, look at this.” The doctor pointed at a thick, dark brown scar wrapping around her neck. “This didn’t happen today. It’s an old scar. It looks like permanent tissue damage caused by repeated binding with something like a nylon rope.” Detective Carter gasped, turning to look at Victoria with absolute disgust and horror. “Did you do this?” Victoria didn’t answer. Her eyes were glued to that scar. Her pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks. How could she not recognize that scar? When I was six, she hated how “ugly” I looked when I struggled in the bathtub. So, she tied my hands, feet, and neck with a nylon rope, dragging me into the water like a dog. That scar had been with me for twelve years. It was her trophy, her proof that she had “perfect control” over me. “No… this isn’t…” Victoria’s throat made a horrific, rattling sound, like a broken bellows. She shoved Richard away and fell to her knees beside the corpse. Her hand trembled violently as she reached out to touch the clean face. But the moment her fingers brushed the cold, stiff skin, she flinched back as if she had been burned by hot iron. “Maya…?” she whispered, her arrogant, mocking voice completely gone. “My Maya…?” She stared at the face, desperately searching for any sign of a prank, any sign of life. But there was none. The face was peacefully, terrifyingly still. It would never look at her with fear ever again. “You’re not Autumn… weren’t you supposed to die in her place…” Suddenly, Victoria’s tears spilled over without warning. She finally realized that the girl lying in the mud wasn’t the glorified ghost of her eight-year-old sister. It was her actual, living daughter. The girl she had tortured for thirteen years, who had just turned eighteen today. She finally realized that I was dead.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “456521”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Ethan’s female colleague was pregnant, and she was about to pop. When she showed up at my doorstep, flaunting her massive baby bump and demanding a baby shower gift, I was in the middle of decorating our wedding house. I screamed at him, demanding answers. But he just stood there, looking completely innocent. “I only did a private sperm donation to help her out, Elena. My heart still belongs to you.” After saying that, he actually took her to the mall to pick out a gift. I didn’t hesitate. I immediately texted our family group chat on Snapchat and canceled the wedding. But everyone thought I was just throwing a tantrum. Ethan’s mom said with a heavy sigh, “Ethan is handsome, highly educated, and a pilot. Perfect genes like his should be passed on. He’s doing a service to society.” Ethan’s dad sneered, “He didn’t cheat on you. Why are you making such a big deal out of nothing?” My dad was so angry his chest hurt. “You stubborn girl! How dare you call off such a perfect marriage?” My mom sobbed hysterically, “If you call off this wedding, you’ll end up alone for the rest of your life!” With red eyes, I texted back: “Then I’ll gladly stay single forever!” But then, another message popped up on my phone: “Elena, you’ve finally dumped him. When is it my turn to be your man?”

That evening, Ethan carefully guided Chloe into the apartment, holding her arm as if she were made of glass. They had bought a massive box of toys for the unborn baby. Chloe gently caressed her baby bump. The two of them smiled at each other, their faces glowing with the shared joy of expectant parents. Seeing me, Chloe smiled and handed over a small, beautifully wrapped gift box. “Elena, I personally picked this out for you. I only realized today how much this whole situation bothered you. Please accept this… as my apology.” I didn’t even look at it. I grabbed the box and threw it straight into the trash can. Chloe’s smile froze instantly. Tears began to stream down her face like a broken string of pearls. “Elena… I’m… I’m so sorry.” Sobbingly, she shrank behind Ethan’s back. Ethan immediately shielded her, looking at me with a tired, disappointed expression. “Elena, don’t be like this.” “I was just responding to our company’s initiative to help single women who want children. Chloe is a dedicated single mother by choice, and she needed a quality donor.” “We are just ordinary colleagues. There is really nothing going on between us.” “Ordinary colleagues?” My voice shook. “Do ordinary colleagues text each other ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ every single day? Do ordinary colleagues share a Spotify playlist? Do you cover for her at drinks, and take the long way home just to drive her back after overtime because you’re ‘just colleagues’?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking utterly exhausted. “Here we go again. Haven’t I explained all of this to you? You’re just paranoid. You’re overthinking everything.” I let out a cold laugh. His explanations were laughably pathetic. “Normal workplace communication.” “A mentor looking out for a rookie.” The lies were full of holes, yet I had chosen to believe them time and time edition over the last five years. But five years of love—I couldn’t just let it go without a fight. Clenching my teeth, I pointed at Chloe’s belly, testing him one last time. “Fine. Let’s say I’m the crazy one. Let’s say I misunderstood you both!” I stared straight into Ethan’s eyes. “Make her get rid of the baby. Do that, and I’ll pretend none of this ever happened. The wedding goes on.” “No way!” Ethan’s voice spiked, though he tried to suppress his anger. “The baby belongs to Chloe. I have no right to make that decision.” Chloe’s face turned deathly pale. Suddenly, she fell to her knees right in front of me. She wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach, sobbing. “Elena, Ethan and I really have nothing between us. The baby is eight months old. She just kicked me. I can’t… I can’t kill her…” She wept so pitifully, her entire body trembling. Ethan’s face hardened. He struggled internally for a few seconds before his heart ultimately softened for her. He helped her up, offering me a weak, cold smile. “Elena, asking her to abort the baby now is no different from ripping her heart out.” I stared at him, a mocking smirk playing on my lips. “What? Does your heart ache for her?” Ethan froze, a flash of pain crossing his face. “I never knew you could be so heartless, Elena. If this is your condition for marriage, then we are clearly not the same kind of people… Let’s break up.” “Elena, Ethan is innocent! Don’t take your anger out on him!” Chloe suddenly wailed. “If you want to blame someone, blame me! I can’t give up my baby… but I’ll prove our innocence with my life!” Before the words even fully left her mouth, she lunged toward the balcony, making a dramatic move to climb over the railing. My heart leaped into my throat. Instinctively, I moved to stop her. But Ethan had already panicked. He sprinted past me and grabbed her. Before we even got close to the edge, Chloe collapsed onto the floor, crying so hard she could barely breathe. Ethan pulled her tightly into his arms, his entire body shaking with fear. After a long moment, he looked up. His eyes, cold as ice, locked onto me. “Elena! Your baseless accusations almost killed Chloe!” His gaze was freezing, like he was looking at a complete stranger. “She’s just a young girl carrying a child. You can stand by and watch her die, but I can’t.” His voice trembled with rage. With that, he scooped Chloe up in his arms. He walked past me and barked, “Get out of my way!” I froze, my mouth hanging open. “I didn’t mean to—” “Ethan… the baby… I think she’s coming,” Chloe whimpered weakly before losing consciousness. “Chloe!” Ethan’s face went pale. He violently shoved me out of the way, holding Chloe as he dashed out the door.

I collapsed onto the floor, biting my lip so hard it bled, trying to suppress the overwhelming coldness spreading through my chest. I stayed awake all night. When the sun finally rose, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Ethan. “I was too stressed last night. My words were too harsh.” “Elena, I’m sorry.” A wave of soreness hit my nose, and tears finally spilled over. In all our years together, he was always the first to bow his head after an argument, and I would always find an excuse to forgive him. But this time was different. This was a barrier I could never cross. Before I could type a reply, he sent another photo. It was a selfie of him and the newborn. He was cradling the tiny infant with utmost care, looking down at her with a tenderness I had never seen before. “Chloe went into early labor, but both mother and daughter are safe.” “The baby looks just like me.” “She has no family here, so I have to stay at the hospital to look after her for three days.” “Let’s postpone the wedding by a week. I really can’t handle everything right now.” Every single word of his seemingly ordinary message stabbed right into my heart. Numbly, I stood up. I tore down the wedding decorations on the wall one by one. I took a pair of shears and shredded my wedding dress into pieces. My hands shook uncontrollably as I packed my bags. Just as I zipped my suitcase, Ethan’s mom pushed the door open, a bright, uncontainable smile on her face. “Ethan asked me to bring him some clean clothes. And as a grandmother, I can’t wait to see my little granddaughter.” Seeing my silence, she walked over and warmly wrapped her arm around mine. “Oh, Elena, Ethan was wrong this time. He shouldn’t have hidden the donation from you. It hurt your pride. But at the end of the day, it’s not some unforgivable sin, right?” “I know how much you love him. You can’t just throw away your relationship over something this trivial. Let’s just forget the angry words you said in the group chat yesterday.” “Come on, let’s go to the hospital together to see the baby. Give Ethan a way out, and we can put this whole thing behind us.” I let her drag me along like a lifeless corpse. By the time I snapped out of it, I was already standing outside the hospital room. Chloe lay weakly on the bed, her pale face stained with tears. She had clearly had a rough labor. And there was Ethan, gently cradling the baby, humming a soft lullaby. Ethan’s dad actually smiled—a rare sight. “Ethan is a pilot. We should name the baby Maverick. Let her reach the skies!” “What nonsense!” Ethan’s mom teased. “That’s a boy’s name!” She eagerly reached out to hold the baby. But Ethan turned his body, shielding the infant. “Mom, you don’t know how to hold a newborn. Don’t hurt her.” Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted me. His eyes lit up. “Elena, come look at her. Look at her tiny hands and feet. Isn’t she adorable?” He leaned down to kiss the baby but stopped himself, looking flustered like a guilty child. “No, no, Daddy can’t pass his germs to you.” I had never seen this childish, gentle side of him. He was bursting with the urge to show off his joy to the entire world. But I should never have been part of that audience. My lips curled into a stiff, mocking smile. I turned to leave. But Ethan quickly chased after me, carefully presenting the baby to my face. “Elena, look. Her nose and mouth… don’t they look exactly like mine?” I looked down. The baby’s face was indeed a carbon copy of his. The resemblance stung my eyes, and a sharp lump formed in my throat. I coldly pushed the baby blanket away. Staring into Ethan’s expectant eyes, I decided to shatter his fantasy. “Get her away from me. She looks hideous. She disgusts me.” The baby suddenly burst into a loud wail. Ethan’s face instantly darkened. He gently patted the crying baby, his heart aching for her. Ethan’s mom glared at me as if she wanted to slice me in half. “You are the one who is hideous and disgusting!” Ethan’s dad pointed directly at the door. “You are not welcome here. Get the hell out!” On the bed, Chloe slowly opened her eyes. “Elena…” She looked pleadingly at the Miller family. “I want to talk to Elena alone for a minute.” Once the door closed, a look of faux apology washed over Chloe’s face. “Elena, I don’t want to break you and Ethan up. He really loves you. Actually… that night, Ethan got drunk, and we…” My brain went completely numb. “It wasn’t a sperm donation?” She looked away, feigning guilt. “Ethan told me to keep it a secret. He was afraid it would break your heart.” “By the time I realized I was pregnant, it was already three months. He was furious. He said he’d give me a lump sum of hush money once the baby was born, as long as I never mentioned it again.” “Then why are you telling me this now?” I stared at her coldly. “Why did you show up at my door flaunting your belly? Why didn’t you keep it a secret forever?” She clearly didn’t expect me to call her out so bluntly. Her expression shifted rapidly before she ultimately bit her lip and stayed silent. I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Well, he and I are broken up now, and your baby is born. Your perfect little family of three can live happily ever after. What else are you worried about?” Suddenly, she glared at me, a creepy, twisted smile appearing on her face. The next second, right before my eyes, she rolled straight off the hospital bed, crashing heavily onto the floor. She screamed in absolute terror: “Elena, I know I was wrong! Please don’t hit me! Please don’t hurt my baby!”

I stood there, completely dumbfounded. Before I could even process what was happening, a powerful force violently shoved me aside. Slap! My cheek burned with sharp pain, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Ethan’s dad stood there, his face livid with rage, pointing a shaking finger at me. “You disgraceful brat! How dare you act like a savage in a hospital?” He raised his hand to strike me again, but Ethan quickly caught his wrist. “Dad, stop. She’s my fiancée. I’ll handle this.” He dragged me out to the hallway, retrieved an ice pack, and gently pressed it against my swollen cheek. I kept my head down, whispering, “I didn’t push her…” “Okay,” he replied softly. He didn’t yell, nor did he ask for details. I knew him too well. This silence was his ultimate denial. If he believed me, he would have fought for me. If he didn’t, he would react exactly like this—with cold silence. But if he didn’t believe me, why was he still being so gentle? Tears finally spilled over, dripping hot onto the back of his hand. As if he had been burned, he flinched and pulled his hand back, standing up. “If being here around Chloe and the baby makes you this miserable, you should go home first.” In a panic, I grabbed the hem of his shirt, my voice cracking. “Just believe me once. Please?” He let out a deep, heavy sigh. One by one, he pried my fingers off his shirt, his face filled with utter disappointment. “Elena, I can overlook everything you’ve done. I love you, so I can forgive you. But at the very least, you have to be honest with me.” Suddenly, his phone started ringing. It was Chloe’s custom ringtone. How much further do I have to go to reach your heart… I had once asked him, “Is it appropriate to have a custom ringtone for a female colleague?” He had looked at me with confusion. “She just likes the song, so I set it. Don’t overthink it.” I watched him answer the call and walk away without a single backward glance. I sat frozen on the bench, one side of my face swollen and red. I found myself laughing and crying at the same time, like a patient diagnosed with a terminal illness. He demanded honesty from me. But had he ever been honest with me? I went back to the apartment and grabbed my bags. I was planning to go back to my parents’ house when a FaceTime call popped up. It was my parents. My dad was clutching his chest, pointing a trembling finger at the camera as he roared: “The Millers said you went crazy at the hospital and attacked a girl who just gave birth! What is wrong with you? The hospital director is a close friend of mine. He texted me asking what happened! You have humiliated our entire family!” My dad started gasping heavily for air. My mom frantically handed him his medicine, then turned to glare at me through the screen. “Ethan explained everything. They are just colleagues. You just had to make a scene and force them into a corner, didn’t you?” Noticing the bruise on my face, she let out a cold snort. “You deserved it!” “What did I do wrong that makes everyone turn on me?” I took a deep breath, my voice raspy. “Why would you rather believe outsiders than your own daughter?” “Believe what? Go on, tell us!” my parents demanded in unison. Staring at their cold, unsympathetic faces, all the fight drained out of me. “Never mind.” I hung up the call. I couldn’t let them see me cry anymore. Otherwise, I’d just hear the same old line: “What else can you do besides cry?” At this moment, I realized I had absolutely nowhere to go. My phone vibrated. It was a Snapchat message from Marcus. “Elena, when are you going to let me take his place?” “Right now,” I replied instantly, without a second thought. This guy, who used to be the worst student in our grade back in high school, suddenly turned his life around during senior year just to follow me to the same university. After that came years of relentless pursuit. He had confessed to me a hundred times, and I had rejected him a hundred times. Back then, I was attracted to smart, academically successful men. Even though he was incredibly handsome and had a smile that could make my heart skip a beat, I still turned him down. After graduation, I ended up with Ethan. Marcus went to Switzerland for his master’s degree, but he never stopped texting me. From daily check-ins to sharing mundane details of his life, to asking every few days, “When is it my turn?” I had never replied. Yet, like a tireless robot, he never gave up. Thinking of this, I sent him another text: “We’re getting married in three days. You’ll be the groom. Are you in?” Bam! The front door was suddenly kicked open with brute force. Ethan stood at the doorway, his face dark with rage, his eyes locked onto me like a predator. “Elena! What the hell did you do to my clothes?!”

“What…?” “Shut up!” He stormed over, grabbing my wrists and slamming me hard against the wall. I had never seen him like this. His eyes were bloodshot, and his breath hitched with tremors. “I wore that shirt you packed for me to hold the baby. Within ten minutes, she broke out in hives and had respiratory failure! She’s in the ICU right now!” “She’s just a newborn, Elena! Give me a goddamn explanation!” “I didn’t do anything!” My wrists hurt terribly under his grip, and I struggled to free myself. “Let go of me first…” Before I could finish, his fist flew toward my face. Instinctively, I squeezed my eyes shut and flinched. A loud crack echoed right next to my ear. His fist had smashed into the wall beside my head. When I opened my eyes, I saw blood dripping from his split knuckles. My voice shook uncontrollably. “Ethan… were you really going to hit me just now?” As if suddenly waking up from a trance, he quickly released me and pulled me into a tight embrace. “Elena… I’m sorry. I just panicked.” “I told you, I don’t care what you’ve done. But you crossed the line this time. Chloe is crying, saying she wants to die with the baby. Just come to the hospital and beg for her forgiveness, okay?” A hot tear dropped onto my neck. “Do it for me, please. I promise you, as long as you apologize, we can still get married.” This man, who hadn’t shed a single tear even when he broke his ribs during flight training, was actually crying now. When a man cries, it means he has a weakness. And Chloe and her baby were clearly his. Looking at his trembling shoulders, I suddenly smiled. “Sure. I’ll apologize.” He let out a massive sigh of relief, as if a mountain had been lifted off his chest. “Let’s go to the hospital right now.” He reached out to hold my hand. I coldly slapped his hand away. “I can walk by myself.” “Okay,” he nodded, then urged anxiously, “Hurry. I’m afraid Chloe is going to have a breakdown…” The moment we arrived outside the emergency room, Chloe threw herself onto the floor and wrapped her arms tightly around my legs. “Elena, I beg of you. You can take my life, just please let my baby live!” She sobbed hysterically, her body convulsing. I let out a cold laugh. I reached down to pull her off me. “Stop acting. I’m the one who’s here to apologize. Please, Chloe, show some mercy and let me go. You can have Ethan. I don’t want him anymore. He’s yours.” She snapped her head up, a flash of smugness crossing her eyes before she quickly replaced it with a look of sheer terror. “No, that’s not true! Ethan will always belong to you! How could I ever dream of taking him? I just want to raise my baby in peace.” “Get up!” I completely lost my patience. She suddenly grabbed my hands. Disgusted, I shook her off. Using the momentum, she threw herself backward. Her head hit the tiled floor with a loud thud, and she let out a piercing scream. “Enough!” Ethan rushed forward to shield her, looking at me as if I were some kind of monster. “Elena! If you didn’t want to apologize, you shouldn’t have come! Chloe just gave birth, and the baby is still in the ICU! How could you be so cruel?” I kept my head down, realizing there was nothing left to say. He wouldn’t believe me anyway, would he? After a long silence, Ethan let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Forget it. What did I even expect from you? I saw you hurt Chloe and the baby with my own eyes. Just go home. You’re only making things worse here.” “Parents of the baby, come here!” the doctor called out. Without looking back, Ethan quickly ran toward the doctor with Chloe. The doctor frowned, glancing at me. “If you’re not family, please don’t loiter here and cause a scene.” Right. They were the parents. I was just an intrusive outsider. Twice in one day, I had humiliated myself at this hospital. In everyone’s eyes, I was probably just a psychotic, malicious woman. Suddenly, all the energy drained from my body. I stumbled backward, expecting to hit the cold floor, but instead fell into a warm, solid chest. Marcus caught me securely, his voice buzzing with excitement. “Elena, were you serious about letting me take his place?”

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My hair used to be incredibly long, thick, and beautiful. But when my boyfriend’s childhood best friend lost her hair to chemotherapy, he ordered me to shave my head so they could use it to make her a custom wig. “Chloe is allergic to synthetic wigs,” Ethan said. “You’ve been growing yours for seven years. It’s perfect.” I refused. But his friends pinned me down, tying my hands and feet. They dragged a buzzer across my scalp, shaving me to the roots. My beautiful blonde hair fell to the floor, leaving me completely bald. Chloe sat in her wheelchair, laughing and pointing at me. “Look at her, Ethan! She looks like a bald toad!” Ethan smirked, nodding along. He even chimed in: “Is it really worth throwing a tantrum over some hair, Maya?” But years ago, I had been brutally bullied for six years because of a jagged, uneven haircut. Back then, he was the one who threw his arms wide to shield me. Now, he was the monster holding the clippers. One by one, his toxic friends chimed in, telling me not to argue with a cancer patient. Ethan turned and snapped impatiently, “Stop begging her. Let her get lost. She’s acting like her life is over just because of some hair. It’ll grow back.” So, I turned around and walked out. I never looked back. Later, I heard Ethan spent years searching for me. He gave up everything, begging for a single word of forgiveness. But the girl who used to wait for him was already gone forever. 1 Once my head was completely shaved, they finally untied me. “Ethan, look at her! She looks so hilarious, like a bald little toad,” Chloe giggled from her wheelchair, pointing at my bald head. His friends laughed and jeered in agreement. Ethan glanced at me, his voice dismissive. “Chloe is allergic to cheap synthetic wigs. Your hair is long and healthy. It’s perfect for her.” I blocked out their voices. Clutching the few remaining strands of buzzed hair on my scalp, my heart ached with an agonizing, silent scream. Two hours ago. Ethan had texted me to come to Chloe’s birthday party. Chloe and I had never gotten along. But because Ethan begged me. And because Chloe was a cancer patient. I swallowed my pride and brought a gift. I never expected that this so-called birthday party was a trap. They held me down and forcibly shaved my head. Looking at Ethan’s cold, indifferent face. I remembered how unusually sweet he had been to me two days ago. He had brought home an incredibly expensive set of salon-grade shampoo and conditioner. “The weather’s been dry lately. Make sure you take care of your hair.” I had been confused but touched. I used it that very night. Now, the sickening realization hit me. He didn’t want to pamper me. He was just fattening the lamb for the slaughter—making sure his precious Chloe got the softest wig possible! Ethan suddenly walked toward me. For a fleeting second, I thought he had regained his humanity and wanted to apologize. Instead, he reached out with a look of disgust, grabbed the last stray lock of hair on my shoulder, and ruthlessly snipped it off with scissors. He turned to his friends and barked: “Can’t you guys do a clean job? Why did you leave this patch here? I bought you all dinner, and you can’t even handle a simple task.” The group immediately burst into loud, mocking laughter. “Yeah, yeah, our bad. But look at Maya—is she actually going to cry?” “Poor Chloe is so sick and takes so many meds every day, and she never plays the victim like this.” Their cruel, sarcastic remarks kept coming, but Ethan’s expression didn’t change at all. Ethan’s friends had always hated me. They thought my background made me unfit for their high-society circle. I was never invited to their private parties. Once, I asked Ethan if I could join them. He only said impatiently, “Don’t force your way into a circle where you don’t belong.” Seeing that I didn’t react, Ethan’s eyes finally focused on me. He raised an eyebrow and let out a soft laugh. “Maya, you’re not actually mad, are you?” “Cheer up. Just think of it as doing a good deed.” My eyes filled with deep, hollow sorrow. “I only have one question. Was shaving my head your idea, or Chloe’s?” Before Ethan could answer, Chloe rolled her wheelchair between us. Two perfect tears rolled down her cheeks. “It was my idea. If you’re mad, blame me. Don’t make things hard for Ethan.” Ethan’s face darkened instantly as he glared at me. “Chloe is sick, Maya. Can you stop stressing her out?” “She’s practically family. We grew up together. You’re going to marry me anyway. What’s wrong with doing a little favor for your future sister-in-law?” Seeing how utterly heartless Ethan was, my eyes burned. How could someone change so quickly? Years ago, my parents tried to force me to shave my head to sell my hair for money to buy my brother toys. When I had to go to school with a jagged, uneven buzzcut and faced brutal bullying. Ethan was the one who stood in front of me, baring his teeth at the bullies: “From now on, her hair is under my protection!” All the fight drained out of me. I stood up slowly. “Ethan, we’re done. It’s over.” “Venmo me the money for my hair later. I had no obligation to donate anything to her.” 2 Ethan froze, then pressed his hand against my forehead, letting out a mocking laugh. “Maya, are you saying you’re breaking up with me?” “You don’t have a fever. Why are you talking crazy?” “You’ve been with me for eight years. Do you honestly think anyone else would want you if we broke up?” “Who would even take you? Stop being so damn dramatic.” Hearing those words, the tears I had forced back almost spilled over. So he did remember. He knew we had been together for eight years. People always say that if you date for too long, your lover becomes like family. But Ethan hadn’t become my family, and he was quickly ceasing to be my lover. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, forcing myself to look him dead in the eye. “There are billions of men in this world, Ethan. You are not my only option.” Ethan’s face turned incredibly ugly. His friends immediately chimed in, their voices dripping with hostility. “Alright, that’s enough. Ethan already humored you. Don’t push your luck, Maya.” “It’s just some hair. Ethan can buy you wigs. He can buy you seven—one for every day of the week, haha!” Once his friends finished mocking me, Chloe chimed in with a sweet, victimized sigh. “This is all my fault. Maya, I’ll pay you for the hair. Please don’t be mad at Ethan.” Her eyes welled with tears. Her fragile, pitiful act made Ethan’s heart ache with protective rage. He glared at me like I was his worst enemy. “Maya, if you have a problem, take it out on me!” “Chloe is sick. She’s dying! Why do you have to be so cruel to a cancer patient? You’ve changed. You used to be so kind!” I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, Chloe suddenly clutched her stomach, crying out in pain. “Ethan, it hurts so much… help me…” Ethan shoved me aside with brute force. Caught off guard, I stumbled and fell hard over a metal chair. “Ugh—” Ethan didn’t show a shred of concern. Instead, he screamed at me at the top of his lungs: “Stop being so damn useless! We took a little bit of your hair, and you’re throwing a fit! You knew Chloe was in fragile condition, yet you still chose to stress her out! If anything happens to her, I swear I will make you pay!” With that, he scooped Chloe up in his arms and rushed out, his entourage trailing closely behind. The last guy in the group, who was holding the bag of my sheared hair. He casually tossed the golden locks into the trash can before leaving. I stared blankly for a moment, then dragged myself over to the trash can, picking up my hair piece by piece. My tears fell silently onto the golden strands. At that exact moment, I made my decision. I was leaving Ethan. … I went to a professional salon to get my head properly shaved and cleaned up. Then, I booked a cheap hotel room online. When I went back to the apartment to pack my things, Ethan walked in, looking utterly exhausted. The moment he saw my suitcases, his face warped with anger. He strode over and violently kicked my suitcase away. “How long are you going to keep up this tantrum!” “The doctor said Chloe’s condition worsened because of the stress you caused her! I haven’t even punished you for that, and here you are, acting like the victim!” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Chloe’s cancer is my fault now?” “Ethan, do you even hear the stupid garbage coming out of your mouth?” Maybe because he had never heard me speak to him in such a biting tone. Ethan froze in shock. I ignored him, picked up the kicked-over suitcase, and continued folding my clothes. I didn’t have many belongings. Even after living here for eight years, everything I owned fit into just two 26-inch suitcases. I looked at Ethan, who was standing there in silence, and said flatly: “The moment you Venmo me the money for my hair is the moment I pay my half of this month’s rent.” 3 “Do you honestly think I care about your petty cash?” Ethan grabbed my wrist with a iron grip, his face turning menacingly dark. “Maya, have you lost your mind? Do you really think you can survive on your own?” “Sometimes I swear you don’t have a brain!” “I buy you expensive skincare, and you don’t use it. I buy you jewelry, and you don’t wear it. I tell you to dress nicer, and you make up a million excuses!” Every time Ethan and I fought, he loved to drag up the same old grievances. He complained that I didn’t use his skincare, but he ignored that those brands gave me severe allergic rashes. He complained that I didn’t wear his jewelry, but he didn’t care when his friends mocked me, calling the pieces cheap fakes. He complained that I dressed too simply, but did he expect me to wear cocktail dresses to my office job? Seeing my silence, Ethan’s words became even more venomous. “What, silent now? Or are you planning to crawl back to your abusive family’s house and let them sell you off to some old man?” My eyes widened in sheer disbelief. After the SATs, my parents had locked me up, planning to force me into an arranged marriage for quick cash. It was Ethan who had broken the door down and saved me. He had promised me that as long as he was there, I would never be in danger again. But he had completely forgotten his promise. He had become no different from the monsters I ran away from. Yes, I came from a toxic family. Yes, I was naturally frugal. But what did I do wrong? My eyes welled with tears, and my chest felt like it was being crushed by a physical weight. I didn’t say a word. I finally realized that Ethan was beyond saving. He would rather die than admit he did anything wrong. I grabbed my suitcase, determined to walk out. Furious, Ethan snatched my suitcases and violently threw them onto the hardwood floor. The plastic shells cracked in half, and my neatly packed clothes spilled everywhere. “Ethan! We broke up! You have no right to touch my things!” Ethan grabbed my arm, violently wrenching me backward. He used so much force that I lost my balance. My head slammed hard against the sharp corner of the wooden table. Instantly, a warm, thick liquid rushed down my forehead and into my eyes. I blinked frantically, but my vision was blocked by a dark red haze. Ethan panicked, immediately dropping to his knees beside me. “Maya! Oh my god, Maya, don’t worry. I’ll take you to the ER right now.” But before he could lift me, his phone rang loudly. Chloe’s weak, trembling voice echoed through the speaker. “Ethan… I’m outside your apartment building… I’m throwing up blood. It hurts so much, please help me…” Ethan’s face went pale. He immediately let go of my hands. “Maya, wait for me here! Chloe is having an emergency. I have to drive her to the hospital first!” Blood was streaming into my eyes, and I could only see a blurry, dark silhouette. Terrified of being left alone, I grabbed Ethan’s leg, begging him. “Ethan, please… I can’t see. Please call 911 for me first…” Without a second thought, he kicked me away. “I told you to fucking wait! Do you not understand English?” “You can’t even wait ten minutes? Are you that desperate to die?” The force of his kick left me breathless and unable to get up. By the time I gasped for air, Ethan was already gone. The front door slammed shut with a deafening bang!

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My husband’s cute little secretary was crying and threatening to jump off the roof again. All because I spent fifteen dollars on groceries without asking for her approval first. She claimed I didn’t respect her position. That very night, she handed in her resignation. To comfort her, my husband didn’t hesitate to throw me out of the house. He handed me a divorce agreement, demanding I leave with absolutely nothing. “Don’t worry, Hazel. It’s just a temporary divorce. You’ve worked so hard for this family all these years, and you even gave me a son. Once Chloe calms down, we’ll get remarried.” I looked at him calmly. “Are you sure? This is already the tenth time you’ve divorced me.” Our seven-year-old son, Leo, rushed over and began kicking and punching me. “You old witch! What are you throwing a tantrum for now? You made a mistake, so you deserve to be punished!” Just as they wished, I signed the divorce papers once again. That night, Chloe posted on her Snapchat: [Glad someone finally knows her place and knows who the real boss of this house is. I guess I’ll reward them with a family photoshoot session~] My husband let out a sigh of relief. He immediately and excitedly dialed my number. “Babe, Chloe forgave you! We can get remarried now!” But the voice that answered him was a deep, magnetic male voice. “Sorry, mate. Your wife is in my bed, and she’s a bit exhausted…” 0

The moment Marcus heard the unfamiliar male voice, his breath hitched. “Who is this? What did you do to my wife?” His voice was thick with suppressed rage, like a wild beast ready to pounce. There was no reply. Just a low chuckle before the call was cut off. Marcus went completely insane. He mobilized every single resource he had. In just fifteen minutes, he appeared right in front of me. “I’m so sorry, Hazel. It was my fault.” He hugged me tightly, as if trying to merge me into his own body. “I know you were jealous. You hired someone to put on a show and scare me, right?” “I promise you, I really know I was wrong this time! Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?” “I wasn’t trying to scare you.” I pushed him away, looking into his eyes with absolute calmness. “We are already divorced.” Marcus froze for a second, then forced a doting smile. “Alright, alright… I know what you want. A proper apology, right? I’m already prepared…” With that, he pulled a ring box from his pocket and dropped to one knee. “I really know I messed up. You’ve forgiven me nine times before, but I kept taking you for granted. I was an absolute jerk!” “But I promise you, this is the last time! For the sake of our son, can you give me one more chance?” Our son, Leo, walked over, holding a bouquet of my favorite red roses. “Mommy, don’t go! Don’t leave me! I know I was bad. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Daddy already scolded me.” “Please give Daddy and me one more chance.” My usually rebellious son looked so pitiful right now. For a moment, my heart softened. To make things more overwhelming, our friends and family suddenly poured into the room. Each of them was holding a luxury gift box. They lined them up in front of me. Inside were the designer bags and jewelry I used to dream of. “Say yes! Say yes! Remarry him!” “Marcus really treats Hazel like a princess. They say these ten gift boxes are incredibly valuable. The cheapest one is worth at least a million dollars!” Marcus hadn’t forgotten. The promises he made to me when we were young. At this moment, he was fulfilling them one by one. Seeing my hesitation, Marcus grew anxious. “Hazel, I know you’ve always wanted a grand wedding in Provence. I’ve already booked the flights. Just nod your head, and we can leave right now.” “Mommy, please! Hurry up and say yes to Daddy~” Both of them looked at me with the same puppy-dog eyes. Just as I was about to speak, a sharp, whiny female voice came from the doorway. 0

“Marcus! You are so cruel! How could you spend so much money without telling me? I’ve never received so many gifts from you! How could you just buy all of this for her?” “Ugh! I knew you were lying when you said I could manage the household finances… I’m never speaking to you again!” Hearing this, Marcus instantly panicked. He spotted Chloe in the crowd, let go of my hand without a second thought, and ran after her. “Chloe, don’t be mad. Let me explain.” Suddenly, someone called out to him. “Hey, Marcus, are you still proposing or what?” Marcus replied crossly, “Propose? Can’t you see what’s more important right now?” Without giving me a single glance, he walked away. The crowd slowly packed up the luxury boxes, looking at me with mocking smiles. “Well, it looks like Chloe is still his number one priority!” “With the way Marcus was acting just now, I almost thought he was serious this time!” Leo also dropped his sweet act instantly. He looked at me with a smug grin. “I only did that because Daddy promised to buy me a new gaming console.” “I thought we’d have to play nice for a few days, but in the end, Auntie Chloe is still the important one. You lost again, you old witch!” “It’s all your fault that Auntie Chloe is always angry. You should give all these gifts to her as an apology.” Within two hours, a wealthy influencer’s vlog went viral on TikTok and Instagram. In the video, the luxury gift boxes took up half of the living room. Marcus, who usually only appeared on serious business channels with a cold face, was holding flowers and smiling apologetically behind Chloe. As for Chloe, she just gave a haughty glance. Finally, under Leo’s sweet coaxing of calling her “Mommy,” she flashed a beautiful smile. The comments section was flooded. [Oh my god! There are 101 gifts in total! Does that mean she’s his ‘one in a million’? I’m crying, this is so sweet!] [Can you believe those jewelry boxes thrown carelessly on the floor are worth millions? Heavens! I don’t even throw my tissues around like that!] If this were the past, I would have fallen into a deep, endless spiral of panic. Does Marcus still love me? Has my son been completely brainwashed by someone else? In the end, it would only lead to endless arguments and self-doubt. But looking at this now, my heart was surprisingly peaceful. I gave Chloe’s post a thumbs-up on Snapchat, and then I deleted everyone’s contact information. From this moment on, I wanted nothing to do with them. 0

Just then, Ethan, who had gone out to buy some things for me, finally returned. “What happened? Did your blood sugar drop again?” Seeing me shake my head, he let out a sigh of relief. He handed me the takeout from a fancy French bistro and casually mentioned: “By the way, while you were asleep, someone called you. He sounded pretty aggressive, so I just hung up. I hope it didn’t mess up anything for you?” I knew exactly who he was talking about. “Just a spam caller. I’ve already blocked him.” I didn’t notice the slight curl of Ethan’s lips. After eating, I started packing. After being kicked out of the house, I didn’t bring much with me. Ten years of marriage, and all that was left fit into a few bags of clothes and personal items. I calmly booked a one-way ticket out of the country for three days later. Once I left, I probably wouldn’t ever come back. But before I left, I had one last thing to settle. The next day, I went directly to a high-end auction house. Years ago, I helped Marcus build his empire from scratch. When we were desperate for cash, I had to pawn the necklace my late mother left me. By the time we had the money to buy it back, the pawnshop had gone out of business, and the necklace was lost. Only recently did I find out it was being auctioned off. As soon as I walked into the venue, someone called my name. “Hazel? What are you doing here?” It was Chloe. Standing behind her were several of my former friends. “Do you even need to ask? She must have stalked Marcus’s schedule. Look at her… she just can’t let go!” “Yesterday she was acting so high and mighty, refusing to remarry him. Quite an actress, huh?” “Come on, Hazel. Just go over and apologize to Chloe, and we can put this whole thing behind us.” Someone reached out to grab my hand, but I slapped it away. “Apologize to a homewrecker?” I sneered. “I spent fifteen dollars of my own money on groceries. What exactly did I do wrong?” Back then, I gave up my successful acting career to become a full-time housewife for Marcus. I thought I would finally enjoy life once his business succeeded. But instead, I lived a life worse than Chloe’s dog. Not only was my spending strictly limited, but I also had to report every single purchase to a secretary. I used to endure all of this for the sake of my child. But now, since my son doesn’t even recognize me as his mother. I don’t want either of them anymore! I ignored them and walked toward the seating area. The auction was about to begin. I quickly found my seat. But Chloe’s eyes turned red. She looked pitifully at Marcus, who had just finished socializing and walked over. “Marcus! Why are you just getting here? You promised you would protect me! Why do you keep letting this woman bully me?” Chloe looked incredibly aggrieved, and Marcus’s heart melted with pity. “I don’t care! I want that emerald necklace! If you don’t buy it for me, I’ll never speak to you again!” I looked up at the stage. The item up for bid was indeed the necklace my mother left me. I immediately raised my paddle. “One million dollars.” This was already two hundred thousand dollars higher than the previous bid. No one would want to pay that much for an outdated necklace. Seeing Marcus raise his paddle without hesitation, I turned around and spoke directly to him. “Marcus, even a gentle soul has its limits. I already left with nothing. How much further do you want to push me?” “You promised me and my mother that you would buy this necklace back! Look closely at it. This is not some cheap toy to please your mistress!” Marcus froze. A look of shock flashed through his eyes. He wasn’t used to me speaking to him in such a cold, detached tone. Slowly, he lowered his hand. The auctioneer on stage called out: “Going once at one million dollars.” “Going twice at one million dollars.” But Chloe panicked. “Marcus! You promised me! Who are you choosing? Her or me?” Tears welled up in Chloe’s eyes. It looked as if she would burst into tears if Marcus dared to say no. Marcus looked at me, then at Chloe. His gaze turned firm. I smiled bitterly to myself. How could an ex-wife like me ever compete with his precious mistress? Just as I was about to walk away, I heard Marcus speak. “Chloe, let her have it. We don’t need it.” 0

Chloe’s eyes widened in disbelief. With the strike of the auctioneer’s gavel: “Sold for one million dollars! Congratulations to the lady in the front.” The spotlight fell on me. Chloe couldn’t take it anymore and stormed out. “Fine, Marcus! Since you care so much about her, don’t you ever talk to me again!” I didn’t expect Marcus to take my side this time. But that was all it was. There was no warmth in my heart, no gratitude. He owed me this. In all our years of marriage, I had never gotten anything from him. I had even poured my own money and my mother’s inheritance into his business. But now, I had left with nothing. Even the one million dollars to buy back the necklace was borrowed from a friend. Since he was so heartless. He shouldn’t blame me for what was to come. The auction reached its final item. At some point, Chloe and Marcus returned to their seats. Chloe shot me a provocative look. I had a bad feeling. The auctioneer on stage announced excitedly: “Next up is our grand finale!” “We have 99 private, intimate photos of the former A-list actress and ex-wife of the CEO of Marcus Enterprises, Hazel!” The crowd gasped. They began whispering and commenting on the revealing photos displayed on the screen. “Oh my god, is this allowed?” “They call it private photos, but isn’t she just loose to take these kinds of pictures?” “Look, there’s even an intimate nursing photo… Wow, she’s gorgeous. No wonder Marcus kept wanting her back after the divorce…” “Look at that look on her face. I bet there’s a wild story behind their constant divorces!” Although the sensitive parts were blurred, the censorship only made people’s imaginations run wild. The disgusting murmurs of the crowd filled my ears. My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. My face turned pale. 0

Back then, Marcus had sweet-talked me into taking those private photos. I thought they were a private record of our love. I never thought they would be used as a weapon to destroy me! Marcus looked at Chloe with a gentle smile. “Chloe, do you like your apology gift?” Chloe’s lips curled up. “You’re terrible! I thought you didn’t love me anymore. It turns out you were planning this grand surprise.” “I guess I can forgive you this time!” Marcus pulled her into his arms, cooing, “Thank you, babe. You have the best heart.” Chloe crossed her arms, turning away with a pout. “One thing at a time. She still hasn’t apologized to me!” Marcus understood immediately. He ordered his security guards to drag me over to Chloe. “Hazel, apologize!” I bit my lip hard, telling myself that these people weren’t worth my tears. Yet, my eyes still burned. “What if I say no?” Chloe suddenly grabbed a handful of my hair. A sharp pain shot through my scalp. “If you don’t apologize, I’ll make sure everyone here gets a printed copy of your beautiful body!” She patted my cheek condescendingly with a stack of printed photos. I let out a cold laugh. With a sudden burst of energy, I stood up, grabbed her hair with one hand, and delivered a fierce slap with the other. SLAP! The crisp sound echoed through the entire hall. “A cheap homewrecker like you doesn’t deserve my apology!” Marcus was furious. He kicked me hard in the stomach. “That’s enough, Hazel! My patience is wearing thin! Since you threw away the chance I gave you, don’t blame me for being ruthless!” With a wave of his hand, he threw the photos into the air. They fluttered down like snow, landing all over the auction hall. At the same time, the scandal of the retired actress went viral on social media. The internet erupted. The people at the venue were quick to join in. “Wow, look at this one. This is so dirty!” “She must have been unfaithful. Otherwise, why would Marcus humiliate her like this?” “Do you think she cheated on him? Didn’t she give him a son? Maybe the kid isn’t even his!” “So cheap. Who knows how many men she’s slept with.” Their words were like poisoned arrows, trying to pierce through my armor. Marcus held Chloe, looking down at me. “Are you going to apologize now?” I smiled. Instead of apologizing, I stood up straight. A flash of confusion crossed his eyes. He didn’t seem to understand why I was being so stubborn this time. In the past, whenever he gave me a look—whether it was my fault or not—I would always bow my head and apologize. Why was I making such a big scene today? “Is this the only trick you have left?” I asked. “Who is the dirty one here? I don’t care about anything anymore. I don’t care about you, and I certainly don’t care about what these people think of me.” “Do you have any other pathetic tricks? If not, I’m leaving.” The crowd went quiet. Unlike the mocking before, many now looked at me with a trace of respect. But Marcus panicked. He could feel that I was serious this time. If he didn’t say something now, I might really walk out of his life forever. He took a step forward to speak, but a group of men suddenly rushed in and shielded me. “I’m sorry, Hazel. I’m late.”

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