Author: Momo Chan

I was my mother’s little “feeding doll.” Whenever my younger sister refused to eat, my mom would put a freshly cooked meatball in my bowl. Once my sister started craving it, the meatball would be snatched away and fed to her instead. My mom always said, “Your sister is delicate. You’re the older sister, you need to be sensible.” The year I turned eight, it was the last meatball again. My mom smiled and brought it to my lips. For some reason, as if possessed, I swallowed it whole. My mom slapped me hard across the face, knocking me out of my chair. “You act like a starving ghost! That was for your sister!” The back of my head slammed heavily against the corner of the table, and the world instantly went black. When I opened my eyes, I saw my mom holding my sister, speaking to her softly. “Don’t cry. Your sister is bad, Mom will punish her.” She didn’t even glance at me lying on the floor. She just carried my sister out the door. “Kneel there and reflect on what you did. You can get up when you admit you were wrong.” Slam. The door closed. I stood up from the floor, wanting to tell her I was wrong. But when I looked down, I saw that I was still kneeling there on the floor. Mom, this time, I really won’t steal my sister’s meatball ever again. … The smell of braised pork was so rich it almost smelled bitter. I was kneeling on a dining chair, gripping the edge of the table. My stomach started growling again. Grrr— My sister, Lily, frowned and pushed her bowl away. “I’m not eating! The fat is disgusting!” The bowl clattered against the table, spilling a few grains of rice. My mom wasn’t angry. She patiently picked up the spilled rice and put it back in the bowl. “This is organic pork from Grandma’s farm. It’s delicious.” “I don’t want it!” Lily started kicking her legs. My mom sighed and turned her attention to me. “Chloe.” She picked up the last, largest braised meatball. The sauce dripped from the meatball onto the white rice. “This meatball smells so good. Does Chloe want it?” I nodded frantically, my mouth instantly filling with saliva. I hadn’t had a proper meal in two days. Yesterday’s leftover noodles were thrown in the trash because my mom said overnight food wasn’t healthy. But I could have eaten them. I wanted to say I didn’t care if it wasn’t healthy. “You want it?” My mom brought the meatball to my lips, the hot steam hitting the tip of my nose. “Smells great, want a bite?” She was coaxing me, but her eyes darted toward Lily. Lily stopped kicking and stared intently at the meatball. It was hers. I knew it was hers. I knew the routine perfectly. I was supposed to open my mouth and pretend to take a bite. Then my mom would flick her wrist and pop the meatball into Lily’s mouth. Lily would chew triumphantly and make faces at me. I would swallow my saliva and watch her finish it. This time was supposed to be the same. I opened my mouth, and the meatball touched my lips. It smelled so good. It really smelled so good. Before my brain could react, my teeth had already closed down. Chomp. A huge bite. I pulled the entire meatball into my mouth. I didn’t chew; I just swallowed it straight down. The scalding hot meatball slid down my esophagus, burning my chest. But I didn’t feel the pain. I just felt the hand that had been clawing at my stomach for two days finally let go. Lily was stunned. My mom was stunned too. The next second, a piercing scream shattered my eardrums. “WAAAAAH—!” Lily swept her bowl onto the floor, shattering the porcelain into pieces. “She ate my meat! That was mine!” My mom’s face instantly twisted in rage. Smack! My cheek burned, and my ears rang. The taste of meat lingered in my mouth, now mixed with the metallic tang of blood. “Are you a starving ghost reincarnated?!” my mom screamed, pointing at my nose. “That was to stimulate your sister’s appetite! Who told you to actually eat it?!” “Spit it out!” She reached out and dug her fingers into my mouth, her nails scratching my gums. But the meatball was already in my stomach. I couldn’t spit it out. Lily cried even louder, rolling on the floor. “I don’t want to live! My sister stole my food! I want KFC!” My mom was heartbroken. She pulled her fingers out of my mouth and turned to pick Lily up. As she turned, she saw me still sitting on the chair, looking dazed. With nowhere to vent her anger, she shoved me violently. “Get out of here! I’m sick of looking at you!” I was very light. I flew backward off the chair. Thud! A dull thud sounded as the back of my head struck the sharp corner of the solid wood dining table. Everything in front of me started to go dark. My mom’s furious face, Lily’s wide-open mouth, and the broken porcelain bowl on the floor. I slid down limply, my knees hitting the floor, my upper body slumped over, my head hanging low. Like I was apologizing. In the last second before I lost consciousness, my only thought was: That meatball was really delicious. 2 “Stop playing dead.” My mom’s voice came from very far away. “Every time you do something wrong, you pull this dead-weight act. Who is it for?” I opened my eyes and found myself standing next to the dining table. Weird, didn’t I fall? I looked down, and there was another person on the floor. Wearing my ill-fitting, faded, washed-out school uniform. Kneeling on the floor, head almost touching the ground. Was that… me? I reached out to touch the me on the floor, but my hand passed right through. Am I dead? When that thought popped up, I surprisingly wasn’t very scared. Instead, I felt a sense of relief. No more starving. No more walking on eggshells. My mom was comforting Lily. “Be a good girl, sweetheart. If you cry until your eyes are swollen, you won’t be pretty anymore.” “Your sister is bad, Mom will punish her.” “Dad will be home soon. Let’s have him take us to KFC.” Lily sniffled, pointing at me on the floor. “Why isn’t she moving?” My mom sneered. “Too ashamed to show her face. Stealing food, shameless.” “Let her kneel. She can get up when she realizes she was wrong!” The door opened, and my dad walked in carrying his briefcase. “What’s going on? I could hear the crying from the hallway.” Lily threw herself into my dad’s arms. “My sister stole my meatball!” “Mom hit her, and now she’s just lying on the floor refusing to get up!” My dad frowned, glancing at me on the floor with impatience. “Is that it? Why make such a big deal out of it?” He walked over and nudged my calf with the toe of his shoe. “Get up. Stop embarrassing yourself!” I didn’t move. My dad thought I was being stubborn and loosened his tie. “Fine, developing a temper, are we?” “If you don’t want to get up, then keep kneeling. No dinner for you tonight.” “Come on, let’s go get KFC.” Lily smiled through her tears. “I want a bucket, and I want ice cream too!” “Alright, whatever you want.” The family of three put on their shoes and headed out. Slam! The security door closed, and the apartment fell silent, except for the ticking of the wall clock. Tick, tock, tick, tock. I floated in mid-air, looking at myself on the floor. The posture was awkward. The angle of my bent neck was too sharp. A tiny bit of blood oozed from the hair at the back of my head. Not much. It was hidden by my hair and ran down into my collar. No wonder they didn’t see it. It was getting dark. The lights were off. My stomach wasn’t growling anymore, but I still felt hungry. I wanted KFC too. I had never had it. Every time they went, they locked me in the apartment and left me two steamed buns. When Lily came back, she’d have ketchup on the corner of her mouth and intentionally breathe in my face. “Sister, the fried chicken smells so good. Too bad you can’t have any.” I floated over to the dining table. The bowl of white rice that had been knocked over was still there, along with a few drops of meat broth on the table. I leaned over the table, trying desperately to smell it. But I couldn’t smell anything. I was dead. I didn’t even have the right to smell things anymore. At 11 PM, the lock clicked, and they came back. Lily held a red balloon in one hand and a half-eaten egg tart in the other. “Mom, I’m sleepy.” “Take a bath before bed, you’re all greasy.” My mom took off her shoes and turned on the living room light. The light was blinding. I instinctively shielded my eyes. The me on the floor was still in the same position. My mom glanced over and paused for a second. “Still kneeling?” She let out a scoff. “Such a stubborn temper. I wonder who she gets it from.” My dad yawned. As he walked past the dining room to the bathroom, his pant leg brushed against my shoulder. I swayed slightly, then steadied. My dad stopped and looked back. “Chloe, that’s enough.” “You have school tomorrow. Go wash up and go to sleep.” I ignored him, and my dad got angry. “Can’t you hear me talking to you? Are you mute?” He reached out to grab me. 3 My mom’s voice came from the bathroom. “Don’t pay attention to her. It’s a bad habit we’ve spoiled her into. Let her kneel. Let’s see how long she can keep it up!” My dad’s hand stopped in mid-air, then withdrew. Grumbling, he went into the bathroom. Then came the sounds of washing up and laughter. Lily splashing water in the bathtub, my mom scrubbing her back, my dad watching TV in the bedroom. How heartwarming. Except for the corpse kneeling on the floor in the corner of the dining room. It was late. The lights went out one by one. The master bedroom door closed. I floated to the crack in the door and peeked inside. Lily slept in the middle, my parents on either side, tucked snugly under the comforter. Lily still clutched that balloon in her hand. I floated back to the dining room and sat on my own back. It was so cold. The body on the floor had completely cooled, and the joints were beginning to stiffen. I just sat there, keeping myself company. At 3 AM, my mom came out for a glass of water. Wearing her pajamas, she groggily walked into the dining room. In the moonlight, my dark silhouette kneeling there looked like a monster. My mom paused mid-sip. She stared at me for a moment, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. She set down her glass and took a step forward. “Chloe?” She called out hesitantly, her voice very quiet. I floated right in front of her face and yelled: “Mom, I’m dead! Look at me!” My mom couldn’t hear me. She just pulled her pajamas tighter and shivered. “Crazy,” she muttered. “Trying to scare people in the middle of the night.” She turned and went back to the bedroom, closing the door firmly. In that moment, I completely gave up hope. At 6 AM, my mom was the first to wake up. Wearing an apron, she hummed a tune as she walked into the kitchen. Walking past the dining room, she didn’t even spare the me on the floor a single glance. The smell of frying eggs and the sweet aroma of warm milk wafted from the kitchen. Lily woke up. Wearing her little bunny pajamas, she walked out rubbing her eyes. “Mom, I want sweet milk.” “Okay, Mom will get it for you.” Walking past the dining room, Lily saw me. She ran over and hugged my neck from behind. “Sister, stop sleeping.” “I want to ride the horsey. Get up and be my horsey!” She shook my body vigorously. If it were before, I would obediently get down on all fours and let her ride on my back. Even if the floor dug painfully into my knees, I had to smile and whinny like a horse. Because my mom said that’s what an older sister is supposed to do. But today, I didn’t move. Lily got upset. She let go and gave me a hard shove. “Are you going to get up or not? If you don’t get up, I’ll tell Mom to hit you!” That shove broke the delicate balance. The already stiff corpse, maintaining its kneeling posture, fell rigidly sideways. BANG! A loud crash. Louder than the sound of hitting the table yesterday. I fell to the floor, arms and legs still bent, frozen in a kneeling bow. That face was finally revealed. Pale, tinged with blue. Eyes half-open, pupils already dilated, staring blankly at the ceiling. A bit of dried sauce lingered at the corner of my mouth. The last trace left by that meatball. Lily was terrified. She reached out to grab my hand. “AH!” She screamed and yanked her hand back. “Mom! Mom!” “Sister turned into an ice cube! She’s so cold!” My mom, who was frying an egg, jolted. The spatula dropped to the floor. She rushed out. “What is it? Why are you screaming so early?” She saw me lying on the floor. That grotesque posture. “Chloe?” she called out, her voice trembling. “Stop pretending. The floor is cold.” “Hurry up and get up. Mom is frying an egg for you.” It was the first time she had ever offered to fry an egg for me. Unfortunately, it was too late. My mom got closer. She crouched down and reached out to push my shoulder. Her hand met freezing cold flesh. 4 My mom’s pupils instantly dilated. “AH!” My dad, still asleep, was so startled he rolled off the bed. He rushed out, pulling up his pants, not even fully dressed. “What’s wrong? Is there a fire?” He saw my mom slumped on the floor, and me lying beside her in that bizarre posture, and his face instantly turned white. He rushed over, his trembling hand reaching for my nose. No breath. He checked my neck. No pulse. “She’s dead…” My dad fell heavily onto the floor, a wet spot instantly spreading across his pants. “How could she be dead? She was perfectly fine yesterday.” My mom seemed to suddenly snap awake. She threw herself at me, shaking my body frantically. “Chloe, wake up! Don’t scare Mom.” “Mom won’t punish you anymore. Mom will take you to KFC.” “Get up! Spit out the meatball, okay? I won’t blame you.” She cried, snot and tears smearing all over her face. But I just stared at her coldly. The ambulance arrived, and so did police cars, red and blue lights flashing against the windows. Neighbors crowded around the door, peering inside. “What happened? I heard a kid died.” “Oh, what a sin. I heard them beating the kid yesterday.” “Those parents are so biased. They were so cruel to the older girl.” My mom heard them. She snapped her head up and roared at the door: “What are you looking at? Get lost!” “My daughter just fell down! Doctor, quickly, save her!” A few people in white coats walked in. They took one look at the body on the floor and shook their heads. “Lividity has already set in. She’s been dead for at least twelve hours.” My mom lunged like a madwoman, grabbing the doctor’s sleeve. “You’re lying! She was still kneeling last night! She moved!” “She’s just greedy. She ate too much and fainted.” “Please, I’m begging you, save her…” A young female police officer looked at my thin, small corpse, her eyes reddening. She turned to look at the solid wood dining table. On the corner of the table was a smear of dark, dried blood. “Take the body,” the officer’s voice was cold. “Call the coroner to determine the cause of death.” My mom froze. “Why do you need a coroner?” “I won’t let you cut my daughter open! She died from a fall!” “There’s no need to investigate! It was an accident!” She fought desperately to stop them. But the harder she fought, the more suspicious the police grew. In the interrogation room at the police station, my mom sat in an iron chair, hands tightly clasped together. “I really didn’t hit her. I just gave her a light push.” “How was I supposed to know she would lose her balance? I never thought she’d hit her head on the corner of the table.” “Officer, I’m her biological mother! How could I possibly want to hurt her?” She cried a river of tears. If I hadn’t been floating right next to her, remembering her cold, indifferent face last night… I almost would have believed her. In the next room, the female officer was questioning Lily. Lily held a lollipop the officer had given her. “Sweetie, why was your sister kneeling on the floor yesterday?” Lily licked her lollipop. “Because my sister stole my meatball.” “Mom got mad and slapped my sister.” “Then Mom pushed her, and my sister’s head hit the table.” The officer’s pen paused. “And then?” “And then my sister kneeled on the floor.” “Mom said she had to kneel until she rotted.” Lily’s voice was crisp and innocent. “Kneel until she rotted.” The female officer took a deep breath and closed her notebook. Meanwhile, in the autopsy room. An older medical examiner wearing a mask held a gleaming scalpel. “Deceased: Female, 8 years old.” “Developmentally delayed. Height corresponds to a 6-year-old child.” “Blunt force trauma to the back of the head, resulting in intracranial hemorrhage. This is the fatal wound.” The scalpel sliced open my skin. I didn’t feel pain, just a chilly draft. The medical examiner opened my stomach. Everyone held their breath. They expected to see the undigested meatball. The proof of the “greed” my mom had claimed. But the moment the stomach was opened… The older medical examiner’s hand trembled. The assistant next to him covered his mouth, nearly vomiting. “What is this?” The older examiner used forceps to pick up a clump of residue. “This child… why is her stomach full of… this?”

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When my little brother’s pre-school physical revealed his blood type didn’t match ours, my dad demanded a divorce. A paternity test proved it: my brother was my mother’s child, but not my father’s. He was my “half-brother.” The boy I had called “little brother” for seven years was actually my uncle. It turns out that when the precious, only son becomes a cosmic joke, the neglected daughter can suddenly become the golden child. 1 The year my mom was pregnant with my brother, the incense burning in front of the fertility shrine in our living room never went out. When the ultrasound revealed it was a boy, my dad went up and down the hallway handing out cigars to everyone he saw, his voice booming so loud the whole apartment building could hear: “The Miller family finally has an heir!” My bedroom was cleared out and painted sky blue. A corner of the living room was sectioned off with an old bedsheet, and that became my new “bedroom.” My mom pointed at my faded stuffed animals and elementary school certificates: “Throw this useless junk out. Don’t let it take up my son’s space.” After my brother was born, his nickname became “Precious.” As for me, growing up, they mostly referred to me as “that girl,” or they just didn’t address me at all. At the dinner table. My mom would pick the vegetables my brother didn’t like out of his bowl and drop them into mine. “Eat this, it has the same nutritional value.” If my brother threw a tantrum and knocked something over, I was the one who got yelled at for not cleaning the table fast enough. When my brother was in kindergarten and wanted a two-hundred-dollar motorized toy car, they bought it without blinking an eye. When I was in middle school and wanted a thirty-dollar study guide, I had to listen to her complain about it for half a month. “All you know how to do is waste money! What’s the point of a girl studying so much? I think finishing middle school is enough for you. Mrs. Henderson next door is hiring at her salon; you should go learn a trade and start earning money to help out the family.” My dad, whose eyes rarely left the TV, chimed in: “Your mother is right. What’s the point of three years of high school? Better to start working early. In a few years, find a decent family to marry into, and our job is done.” I stared blankly at the only family portrait in our house. It was taken for my brother’s 100-day celebration. I was standing on the far edge, smiling a smile that looked worse than crying. In the future they planned for me, I was a straight, downward-sloping line. Drop out, work menial jobs, get married, and use my fleeting value to feed this family that revolved entirely around my brother. 2 This continued until the summer after I graduated middle school. My brother was getting ready to start elementary school. The results of his school enrollment physical came out on a Thursday morning. During lunch, my dad slammed the piece of paper down hard onto the glass dining table. My brother stopped whining for lobster. Startled, he dropped his spoon into his bowl, splashing rice water everywhere. “Our son is type AB,” my dad said, glaring at my mom. “I’m type A, you’re type O. Tell me, how exactly did we produce an AB child?” “What are you yelling for?! You’re scaring our Precious!” Having a son gave my mom all the power in the house, so she no longer bothered to hide her domineering and unreasonable nature. “Is it that young guy who moved in downstairs? I’ve noticed that ever since he moved in, you dress to the nines just to take out the trash.” “Bullshit! The test results must be wrong.” My mom looked at the lab report. She said it was a mistake, but her fingers unconsciously gripped the edge of the tablecloth tightly. “I took him to get tested myself.” My dad yanked my brother, who was now crying in fear, toward the door. As he passed the kitchen and saw me washing dishes, he barked, “You come too.” After the test, my mom quickly coaxed my brother into his room. As the door closed, I could hear his quiet sobs. Having been spoiled since birth, he had never seen our parents act like this. I went to the balcony to take the clothes out of the washing machine and hang them up. In the living room. My mom was sitting with her legs crossed, cracking sunflower seeds. She spat the shells all over the floor, spit flying everywhere as she ranted: “When that stupid report comes back, I’m definitely suing that garbage clinic. They’re going to pay me tens of thousands for emotional distress.” “And you, Richard Miller, don’t think you’re getting away with this easily!” My dad didn’t say a word. He just chain-smoked, one cigarette after another, until the ashtray looked like a small mountain. 3 The report wouldn’t be ready until Monday afternoon. The entire weekend, my dad chain-smoked until the apartment was choked with smog, and my mom lost all her usual patience for my brother’s crying. On Saturday afternoon, my best friend from middle school asked me to go to the bookstore with her to pick out some high school study guides. It was the only thing I had been looking forward to all summer. Just as I was about to head out, my brother charged at me like a little cannonball and hugged my leg. “Sister, play with me! I want to play Ultraman fighting monsters!” “Sister has to go out for a bit. I’ll play with you when I get back tonight, okay?” “No! I want to play right now!” His mouth puckered, and he started to wail. My mom poked her head out of the kitchen, her face dark. “Where are you running off to now? If your brother wants you to play with him, then play with him. All you know how to do is run wild outside. Do you have any idea how to be an older sister?” “Mom, you promised I could go to the bookstore with my friend. And it’s just for a little while…” “What promise?! Do you not see what’s going on in this house right now? Stop causing trouble.” she wiped her hands and walked over. “You stay home and watch your brother.” The last flicker of hope in my heart snapped and died. My mom turned and went back to the kitchen. I took a deep breath, crouched down, and tried to reason with my brother. He casually grabbed an orange and threw it at my face. “Troublemaker!” “Leo, if you keep acting like this, I’m going to get mad!” “You wouldn’t dare! Just you wait.” As he yelled, he ran toward the “bedroom” separated by the old bedsheet. My heart tightened, and I chased after him. “What are you doing?” Too late. He ducked under the sheet and immediately spotted the manila envelope sitting next to my pillow. Inside was my acceptance letter to City High School. It was the proof of my hard work, earned over countless nights studying amidst the blaring TV and my brother’s crying. “What’s this?” He picked it up curiously. “Put that down! You can’t touch that!” My voice cracked. Seeing my panic only egged him on. He deliberately held the envelope high, a nasty smirk on his face. “Mommy, Daddy! Sister’s hiding something good!” “Give it to me!” I lunged to grab it back. “No, I won’t! Garbage from a money-drain!” Under my horrified gaze, his two small hands grabbed both ends of the envelope and pulled hard. Riiiiiiiiip— The sound of tearing paper felt like a knife slicing into my heart. The paper with my name on it, my only hope for the future, was torn clean in half. Still not satisfied, he ripped it a few more times, letting the pieces fall around his feet like snow. I stared at the shreds on the floor, my mind buzzing. Months of endurance, grievance, and my faint hope for the future were torn to shreds in an instant. “Ah!” I let out a low, guttural roar that I didn’t even recognize as my own. I charged at him, shoved him hard to the floor, pinned him down, and rained punches on him. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” My brother was stunned for a second before erupting into earth-shattering wails. “WAAAAAH… Mommy! Sister’s hitting me! Mommy, help!” My mom rushed in. Seeing me on top of my brother, her eyes instantly turned red. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and violently yanked me off him. The immense force sent me stumbling backward into the bed frame, the back of my head throbbing with pain. “Are you out of your mind?! How dare you hit your brother! It’s just a stupid piece of paper; so what if he tore it?! Do you really think you’re going to that useless high school? Let me tell you, no way in hell! You vicious little brat. He’s your own brother!” My brother hid behind my mom, crying while simultaneously making faces at me. There wasn’t a single tear on his face. My mom hugged him tightly, checking him for injuries, cooing endlessly: “Don’t cry, Precious. Mommy’s here. Mommy will hit her! This jinx, daring to touch my son!” My arms hurt, my scalp was burning, but none of it compared to the gaping hole in my chest. Hearing the noise, my dad came in from the balcony. He just frowned and yelled impatiently, “What’s all this racket? Haven’t we got enough problems?” Then, his gaze swept over the torn paper on the floor without lingering for a second, and he turned right back around to stare out the window and smoke. The smoke blurred his back, and it blurred the last shred of hope I had for this family. Amidst my mother’s cursing and my brother’s smug looks, I picked up the pieces, one by one. Using clear tape, I carefully pieced them back together. 4 The paternity test results came out on Monday. My dad went to get them alone. After I finished cleaning the apartment, making sure it was spotless, I walked up to my mom. “Mom, school’s about to start. Can you lend me the tuition and meal money for the first semester of my freshman year?” “Didn’t I tell you? If you dare to go to that money-wasting high school, you have to earn every penny yourself.” Just as I was about to promise to pay her back double next semester, the front door opened. My dad had a file folder in his hand. “Here, let me see.” My mom walked over, looking triumphant. My dad dodged her hand, threw the envelope onto the coffee table, and patted me on the shoulder. “Good girl, go back to your brother’s room for a bit.” “…Okay.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I was their biological daughter. But a part of me felt a strange sense of disappointment. I cracked the door open slightly, a bad feeling creeping over me. My dad ignored my mom, walked straight over to my brother, and squatted down in front of him. “Don’t ever call me ‘Dad’ again.” WAAAAH— My brother burst into tears. My mom snatched up the report, her eyes scanning the paper before locking onto a specific section. “This is impossible…” her lips trembled. “It’s right there in black and white.” My dad stood up. “He’s your biological brother. Your half-brother.” My brother’s crying grew louder, and for the first time, my mom screamed at him. “Stop crying! Are you mourning the dead?!” The room fell terrifyingly silent. My mom stared blankly at my dad, her lips moving as if trying to digest those words. Suddenly, like she had been struck by lightning, she stared at my brother huddled in the corner of the sofa. Her gaze was no longer filled with its usual doting love. She walked toward him, step by step. She crouched down in front of him and rubbed her fingers hard against his face, like she was inspecting a strange object. “Half… brother?” she repeated. “Then… then where is my son? The son I carried for nine months?!” “Mommy, that hurts.” My brother was terrified and tried to pull away, but she grabbed his shoulders tightly. Her nails dug into his soft flesh, drawing blood. “Where is my son?!” Her voice pitched up, sharp and piercing. “I gave birth to a boy! Where did he go?!” “Stop screaming!” My dad smashed the ashtray on the floor. “Go to your sister’s house and ask your brother’s real mother!” It was my aunt’s turn to host my grandmother this month. When we knocked on the door and my aunt saw our entire family standing there, she was completely confused. Before she could say a word, my mom marched into the house and dragged my grandmother, who was prepping vegetables, out of the kitchen. My grandmother stumbled, the vegetables scattering across the floor. “Oh my, what’s going on? Are you trying to kill an old woman?” My mom pulled my brother forward and shoved him in front of my grandmother. My brother’s voice was hoarse from crying. He sat on the floor and hugged my mom’s leg. “Mommy, don’t leave me…” “Here, here, don’t cry. Come to Auntie.” My aunt’s health was poor, and she hadn’t been able to conceive for years, so she was especially fond of my brother. “If your mommy doesn’t want you, Auntie wants you.” My aunt was probably secretly planning to rely on my brother to care for her in her old age if she really couldn’t have kids. “Sis, whether you or I want this kid, we have no choice but to take him.” My mom scoffed coldly, clutching the crumpled report as she walked toward my grandmother. “What do you mean?” my aunt asked, confused. “Because he’s our mother’s son.” My aunt almost laughed out loud. She hugged my brother and wiped his tears. “Precious, look, your mommy is throwing another tantrum at Grandma. Let’s ignore her. I’ll take you to get KFC.” My mom ground her teeth, trying desperately to suppress her rage. “Mom, why aren’t you saying anything?” All the color drained from my grandmother’s face. 5 “Mom, say something!” My aunt looked back and forth between my grandmother and my mom, finally realizing something was very wrong. “When I gave birth to him in the countryside, you were the only one there.” My mom’s voice started to shake. “You said the baby inhaled amniotic fluid and needed to be resuscitated… You said he was saved, but his health was weak, and you told me to rest and recover while you took care of him…” My grandmother’s eyes darted around, her lips moving, but she couldn’t offer an explanation. My aunt, holding a struggling Leo, stepped aside and handed me her phone. “Quick, call your Uncle Mark. Before they start fighting.” “No wonder you suddenly insisted on going to stay with your friends for a few months! Dad is dead! Whose bastard is this?!” My mom grabbed my grandmother’s shoulders and shook her violently. “Where did you put my son?!” “I, I…” My grandmother closed her eyes, tears rolling down her wrinkled cheeks. “You what?!” My dad roared. “If anything has happened to my son, I’ll make you pay with your life!” My grandmother’s knees gave out. She collapsed onto the floor, curling into a ball. “I, I left him… left him in the countryside.” “Left him in the countryside?” my mom repeated softly. “You sent my son away? And swapped him for your… your bastard?!” My grandmother knelt there, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. My mom lunged at her. “Where is my son?! Tell me!” Seeing this, my aunt plastered an awkward smile on her face, trying to ease the tension: “Sis, calm down. Mom, this has to be a mistake. Look how old you are, this is absurd.” My aunt’s voice grew weaker and weaker, until she saw her savior finally arrive.

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On Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend of five years spent the entire day with me. He sent flowers in the morning, took me to a movie in the afternoon, and booked my favorite restaurant for a candlelight dinner in the evening. But when the car pulled up to the restaurant, he calmly told me to go in alone. “I have to go. My wife is waiting for me at home.” I froze, the blood in my veins turning to ice. Seeing me frozen, he frowned. “I’ve spent the whole day with you. Don’t be unreasonable. Know your place.” I watched his taillights disappear into the distance, my grip on the bouquet so tight the stems snapped. That night, I sat alone in front of the candlelight until dawn. I thought he would explain. Instead, I received an email. It was a lawyer’s letter from his wife, demanding the return of their “joint marital assets.” 1 The lawyer’s letter was over a dozen pages long, totaling over six million dollars. But throughout our five-year relationship, I had always insisted on splitting expenses. Gifts were always exchanged equally. Yet, this bill only listed his expenditures, omitting every single contribution I had ever made. My legs were numb. I stumbled up and headed straight for Arthur’s company. I needed to talk to him. I needed an explanation. When I arrived at the lobby, a security guard saw me rushing in and muttered under his breath, “Just a kept woman, and she dares to show her face so openly.” In the elevator, a girl behind me rolled her eyes. “Morals are really going down the drain. The mistress actually showed up dressed like that.” In the past, Arthur was always by my side when I came to the company. The employees would warmly greet me as “Ms. Miller.” Coming alone today, I realized that beneath that warmth was nothing but disdain. I looked down, gripping my red dress, biting my lip hard enough to taste blood. When I reached the executive suite on the top floor, Arthur looked at me with distaste. “Why did you come dressed like that? This is an office, not a gala.” I licked the blood off my lip and held my phone up to him. “Everything you spent on me, I paid you back with gifts of equal value. And five million of this was clearly an investment in the research institute’s project…” “My wife actually sent you that demand? I thought she was just venting.” Arthur chuckled, cutting me off, his tone laced with indulgence. “My wife has been a spoiled heiress since she was a kid. She found your lipstick in my pocket on Valentine’s Day. It’s normal for her to throw a little tantrum.” “Don’t mind it. I’ll coax her tonight, and it’ll all blow over.” I was stunned. I never expected him to brush it off so casually. “Arthur, you’re married, yet you lied to me for five years. You made me an unwitting mistress, and now your wife is demanding six million dollars from me…” “And you’re saying it’ll just ‘blow over’?” Arthur’s hand, which was signing a document, stopped. He threw the pen down impatiently. “Elena, are you done?” My lips trembled. “What…” “Are you going to look me in the eye and say you didn’t approach me because of who I am? Are you going to say you didn’t know I was married?” “That cup of water you spilled on my hand… you practiced that a hundred times, didn’t you?” He curled his fingers, revealing a faint pink burn scar on the web of his hand. Five years ago, I attended an academic forum with my mentor. I accidentally spilled tea on an investor’s hand. That was the first time I met Arthur. My mentor’s face instantly darkened, but Arthur just smiled, said it was fine, and bailed me out. He was the one who pursued me, beginning our five-year, passionate romance. I always thought our meeting was destiny. But today, he was mockingly telling me it was a premeditated trap. My fingers curled into fists. Pride forced me to maintain my composure, but my voice still shook. “Arthur, I only found out you were married last night. You never told me…” Before I could finish, Arthur let out a scoff from the back of his throat. “You’ve played the part so long you actually believe it.” “If you really didn’t know, why did you never come to my company alone? You were afraid my wife would catch you.” “And yesterday, Valentine’s Day. You begged me a month in advance to spend it with you, then secretly slipped your lipstick into my pocket. Weren’t you just trying to provoke my wife?” He opened a drawer, pulled out my lipstick, and tossed it casually onto the desk. A string snapped in my brain. I didn’t come to the company alone because I didn’t want to cause trouble for him. He took the lipstick because he saw I didn’t have pockets. I begged him to spend Valentine’s Day with me because… I wanted a family. “Alright, you’ve had your fun, you’ve made your point. Enough is enough.” “I told you yesterday to know your place. As long as you remember who you are, I’ll have my wife drop the lawsuit.” “And stop playing this ‘going Dutch’ game to act all high and mighty. If you want money, just ask.” He slid a black card across the desk. “Go buy a bag. Go home when you’re done shopping. I’ll come see you tonight.” In just a few words, he completely dismissed everything. I stared at the man I had loved for five years, my mind a tangled mess. After a moment, he frowned. “Not enough? What else do you want?” I gripped my phone, using every ounce of strength for each word: “There is no ‘tonight’.” “Arthur, we’re done.” Those impatient eyes instantly turned icy. He grabbed the lipstick off the desk and smashed it onto the floor, shattering it. “I gave you an out, and you dare push your luck!” “That $500k-a-year job? The director only hired you as a favor to me. Otherwise, with your measly skills, you wouldn’t even be allowed through the institute’s front door!” “If you break up with me, Elena, you are nothing!” 2 It was noon by the time I stumbled back to my apartment in a daze. The moment I pushed the door open, a breeze rustled the red balloons filling the room. A delicate ring box sat on the coffee table. I had spent a month planning this Valentine’s Day surprise. I wanted to say the words he wouldn’t. I wanted to say, Arthur, let’s get married. I want to build a home with you. Instead, the candles were blown out, and the engagement ring became a joke. I showered, changed my clothes, and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. Suddenly, a chill swept across my stomach, and a resigned sigh sounded in my ear. “I know you did all this because you love me.” “Don’t worry. As long as you behave, I can give you anything… except marriage.” I snapped my eyes open. I shoved Arthur away. His face instantly changed. “Are you throwing another tantrum? Playing hard to get has its limits!” I adjusted my clothes, my voice cold. “Arthur, I told you. I had no idea you were married.” “If I had known, I would have stayed far, far away from you.” Arthur pressed his lips together, his eyes blazing with anger. “Do you even believe that yourself? Or is this just like burning my hand—another trick you learned from your mother?” I froze completely. “How do you know about my mother…” He lit a cigarette, his eyes narrowing slightly. “My wife is Chloe Sterling, the eldest daughter of the Sterling family.” My heart skipped a beat, and I gripped the bedsheets so hard they wrinkled. When I was eight, a strange woman showed up at our door, tearing at my mother’s clothes, calling her a whore and calling me a bastard. That was the day my mother found out her husband had another family. All that intense, passionate love was just the thrill of an illicit affair. Unable to accept ten years of deception, her mind broke, and she lost all hope. On a stormy night with thunder and lightning, she tore her fake marriage certificate to shreds, swallowed the pieces, and walked resolutely into oncoming traffic. Through the thick layers of smoke, Arthur’s eyes were full of contempt. “Chloe said your mother clawed her way up exactly like this, hooking her father. Now you want revenge, so you targeted me.” “Aren’t you just trying to follow in your mother’s footsteps? Have a kid to tie me down for the rest of your life? Why bother hiding it?” “But don’t copy everything she did. Your mother got too greedy and died in a car crash as karmic retribution. Don’t make the same mistake.” So he knew. Then for the last five years, how many times had he mocked me behind my back? How many times had he laughed at me with his wife, Chloe Sterling? I was so incredibly stupid to have loved a man like this. Tears spilled out uncontrollably. I grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him with all my might. “Arthur, you bastard!” He couldn’t dodge in time and took a solid hit. His cigarette dropped to the floor. Arthur’s face turned livid. “Elena, you played me for five years! I should be the one who’s angry!” “I actually believed you. I was even considering giving up…” I was crying so hard I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I just threw whatever was within reach. He lost his temper, lunging forward and pinning my wrists down hard. Just as his shadow fell over me, his phone rang. A woman’s voice, soft as water, came through. “Our son misses you.” His expression softened instantly. “I’ll be right home.” Hanging up, he gave me one last look. “Stay here and reflect on this. Decide if you want to keep the status quo or fight me to the bitter end.” “I’ll convince Chloe to give you two days. If you can’t see reason by then, get ready to pay up.” He slammed the door behind him. The balloon tied to the doorframe popped, bursting into pieces. Hidden within the colorful ribbons was my ultrasound report. 10 weeks. This was my Valentine’s Day gift for him. I thought I could give my baby a perfect family. But in the end, I just became my mother. 3 Three days after Valentine’s Day, as soon as I walked into the research institute, my colleagues crowded around me. “Team Leader Miller, we’re still three million short on the new project. Can you ask Mr. Vance for help?” I quickened my pace. “I’m busy. You can go through the standard investment application process.” In the few seconds before my office door closed, I heard the loud, mocking whispers: “Who does she think she is? Didn’t she only get to where she is because of Mr. Vance? Now she’s acting all principled and impartial…” I closed the door, leaned against it, hugged my knees, and slowly slid to the floor. For four years at the institute, I worked day and night, running experiments, writing papers, and even finding time to help other teams with their bottlenecks. I ruined my eyesight, developed stomach ulcers, published the most papers in the entire institute, and every project I led won national awards. Sometimes Arthur would feel bad for me and offer to go talk to the director, but I always stopped him. I told him I wanted to do it. I told him I loved this job. Just last month, I was finally promoted to Team Leader. I thought all my hard work had finally paid off and people were recognizing my efforts. It turns out the job offer I got based on my outstanding thesis was just a favor to Arthur. My position as Team Leader was because of Arthur’s connections. Four years of blood, sweat, and tears… waking up from the dream, I realized it was all credited to someone else. Around noon, Arthur showed up, saying he brought me lunch. He shoved the chopsticks into my hand, acting as if nothing had happened. “You’ve had a night to sleep on it. You’ve thought it through, right?” “It’s for the best. Things will go back to exactly how they were.” I slammed the chopsticks down on the desk, my tone rigid. “You expect me to be your mistress for the rest of my life?” He frowned. “Why do you always have to degrade yourself like this? Weren’t we happy before?” “Before, I didn’t know you were married.” “Not this again.” His calm voice turned cold. He leaned back in his chair. “Elena, telling the same lie over and over gets boring.” “I’ll say it again: as long as you stay quietly by my side, you can have anything you want. Except marriage and children.” Children. My hand went to my stomach. I gritted my teeth, but then something felt wrong. He didn’t want me to have his child. He didn’t want… A thunderbolt exploded in my mind. I frantically yanked open a drawer and pulled out two bottles of vitamins. Arthur had bought them for me himself. He reminded me to take them every day, saying they were good for my health. But three months ago, I was juggling three projects at once and was so busy I kept forgetting. I hadn’t taken them since. And this baby was conceived exactly… “Arthur… you had me taking birth control pills for five years?” I stared at him in disbelief. His expression darkened, and he looked away. “From the day you approached me, you should have known I would never let a woman on the outside have my child.” Right. A woman on the outside. When I was little, Mrs. Sterling said I was a bastard born from a woman on the outside. Now, I was the woman on the outside. Mom, you told me to be kind. To live a simple life. To have my own family, a real husband, a perfect little family of three. Why is it all so hard? The pain in my chest was excruciating. I smashed the lunchbox he brought and threw the chopsticks. I told him to get out. I told him never to show his face to me again. Arthur just sat there, taking the abuse without flinching, his face turning ice-cold. “Elena, I gave you a chance, and you didn’t take it.” “You have one day left. Don’t regret this!” He opened the door and left. I huddled in the corner and cried until the world spun. When I finally stopped crying and gasped for air, I stood up and wiped my tears. Then, I handed in my resignation letter and drove to the women’s hospital. I couldn’t let my child walk the same path I did. Baby, this world is not a beautiful place. It’s better if you don’t come here. 4 I slept for an entire day and night after the surgery. At dawn, a group of people burst into my apartment and started smashing the living room furniture. Leading them was Chloe Sterling. Gritting her teeth, she smashed the framed photo of Arthur and me. I dragged my weak body out of the bedroom. “You’re trespassing! Get out!” Seeing me, Chloe’s eyes went cold. “My husband used our joint marital funds to buy a house for his mistress. Why can’t I be here?” “I bought this house myself. It has nothing to do with him.” “Nothing to do with him?” Chloe crossed her arms mockingly. “Since when do you have the ability to afford a four-million-dollar penthouse? My husband secretly put down three million. You only paid one million.” “Otherwise, even if you sold yourself, you couldn’t afford this place!” The people around her burst into laughter. The last shred of my dignity was ripped away. No wonder the “discount” on this place was so huge. I thought I just got lucky. My father was fake. My love was fake. Even the house I pinched pennies to buy was fake. What in my entire life was actually real? “Chloe, she hid a photo.” One of the women ran over. I instantly panicked. “No! Not that…” But Chloe already had the photo. A vicious look flashed in her eyes. “Your mother has been dead for over a decade, and you still keep her photo!” “You really did approach Arthur on purpose, just to steal him from me. You and your mother are disgusting! Disgusting!” I lunged to grab it, but Arthur suddenly called. I quickly answered: “Arthur, Chloe is trying to…” “What is the meaning of your resignation?! Do you have any idea how many favors I pulled and how much money I invested to get you that job?!” He demanded angrily. But all I could see was Chloe flicking a lighter and bringing the flame close to the photo. It was the only thing my mother left me. She had written something on the back! “No… please, no!” “Arthur, I’m sorry! I’ll do whatever you want. Please, tell Chloe not to burn my photo, it’s…” Before I could finish, Chloe’s fury reached its peak. “Begging my husband right in front of my face? You really have a death wish!” The flame caught the edge of the photo. I threw my phone like a madwoman and lunged for it, but the other women kicked me to the floor. In mere seconds, the photo turned to ash. Only a single corner fluttered down next to my hand. My mother’s face was gone. The words were gone. Everything was gone. Through the phone, Arthur was still talking. “I warned you to know your place. Since you insist on causing a scene, whatever Chloe takes is entirely justified.” The call ended, and Chloe’s triumphant laughter filled the room. “Did you hear that? My husband said whatever I take is justified.” “Throw her out and clear the house. I’m moving my dog in here.” “But be careful not to kill her. My husband invested another three million in her institute yesterday. Plus the two million for this house, that’s over eleven million total. I’m still waiting for her to pay me back.” I was thrown out onto the street. Pedestrians walked by, staring at me as I sat there, my eyes empty, staring blankly ahead. Before my mother threw herself into traffic, she left a message on the back of that photo. “I wish for my dearest daughter to live freely, find simple joys, and never repeat my mistakes.” I’m sorry, Mom. I failed to live up to your blessing. I guess I’ll just have to come find you and apologize in person.

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At the IPO celebration banquet, the massive screen suddenly began playing photos of me working as a bottle girl at a nightclub years ago—a job I took solely to raise funds for his startup. In front of everyone, Julian announced my dismissal from the company. “You’ll do anything for money. Julian, you use me and throw me away. Have you no shame?!” I screamed. Raising his champagne glass, he mocked me in front of the entire press corps: “You’re asking if I have shame? You were sharing a bed with a man when you were seventeen. Who knows how dirty that money you gave me really was.” The flashing cameras blinded me. A surge of blood rushed to my head, and I collapsed on the stage. When I jolted awake, I was back in the past—on the very day a seventeen-year-old Julian knelt on the floor, begging me to lend him the money to start his business. 1. The burning sensation from thousands of camera flashes erupting simultaneously still danced across my retinas. My ears were ringing with the snickers of the so-called “elite” at the banquet. “Who knows how dirty that money you gave me really was.” Julian’s arrogant, condescending voice echoed in my head. I shot up, my back drenched in cold sweat. I gasped for air, my oxygen-deprived brain buzzing. There was no champagne tower, no red carpet, and no media waiting to watch me become a joke. Before me was only peeling, yellowed wallpaper, and the air smelled of cheap ramen and the distinct mustiness of a humid Southern summer. Where was I? I frantically felt my surroundings until my fingertips brushed against a round mirror with rusted edges. The face in the mirror had tight skin, full of youthful collagen. But beneath her eyes were the dark circles of chronic sleep deprivation, and her hair stuck messily to her cheeks. Seventeen. I stared dead into the mirror, my nails digging so hard into my palms they almost drew blood. This wasn’t the exhausted face of a thirty-year-old. It was the face of a seventeen-year-old—the stupid, naive girl who would fight the whole world for Julian. My stomach churned, a physical wave of nausea rising in my throat. Back then, to sell just one bottle of liquor, I let people force me to drink until my stomach bled. He held me, crying like a baby, swearing he would treat me right for the rest of his life. And what happened? At his IPO celebration, in front of the entire world, he casually dismissed that painful past as “dirty.” This cramped, 100-square-foot room was once our so-called “love nest.” We squeezed onto a twin-sized bed. To save money, we even used newspapers as curtains. Back then, I thought it was romantic struggling together. Looking at it now, it was just absurd. I stood up, my bare feet hitting the concrete floor. The chill seeped through my soles straight into my bones. This real, physical sensation forced me to admit the truth. I had been reborn. Right after being publicly humiliated by Julian, fainting from pure rage, I had returned to a decade ago. I didn’t know whether to be thankful that God gave me a second chance, or laugh at the cruel irony of being stuck in this damn time loop. The cicadas outside chirped incessantly, making the summer heat even more suffocating. The muggy, damp air inevitably dragged my thoughts back to the past. It was on a similarly stifling afternoon. During P.E. class in my junior year of high school, the sun was so brutal it felt like it was melting the track. Not wanting to roast, I hid in the shade behind the equipment shed. I had barely sat down when a figure stumbled and collapsed right in front of me. It was Julian. He was as thin as a rail back then. His uniform hung loosely on his frame. He was deathly pale, his forehead covered in cold sweat. The symptoms… looked like low blood sugar. I didn’t have any candy on me, so I half-dragged, half-carried him to the nurse’s office. The nurse wasn’t there. I ran back to my classroom, swallowed my pride, and begged a girl who always had snacks for a piece of chocolate. When I ran back, panting, and shoved the half-melted chocolate into his mouth, those eyes that usually avoided everyone stared straight at me. Like a drowning man clinging to his only piece of driftwood. In that moment, I thought I had saved a young man in distress. Looking back, it wasn’t a rescue; it was the prologue to the story of the farmer and the viper. Julian was an outcast at school. It wasn’t a secret. The rumors about his family background were more numerous than summer mosquitoes. His mother, despising poverty and craving wealth, had run off with another man when he was very young. Unable to cope, his father committed suicide by jumping into a river. He was raised single-handedly by his grandmother in a rural village. His uniform was always washed until the colors faded, with obvious patches on the elbows. The soles of his sneakers were peeling, sometimes making an embarrassing flapping sound when he walked. The boys in our class made a sport of bullying him. They would “accidentally” knock over his water bottle or scribble on his desk. The girls would dramatically cover their noses when he walked by, acting as if he carried some incurable disease. He always kept his head down, shrinking into corners like a frightened quail. Even the day he passed out—if I hadn’t happened to see him, he probably could have baked into a mummy under the sun, and no one would have given him a second glance. Back then, I had an overflowing sense of justice. I felt the whole world was bullying him, and it was my duty to protect this “poor soul.” I started seeking him out constantly. If someone purposely tripped him, I would charge forward and shove them back, even if they were a head taller than me. When no one in the cafeteria would sit with him, I would slam my tray down right across from him, ignoring the weird looks from everyone else. One thing led to another, and as our feelings grew, we started dating. He was very good at pleasing people. Every morning, he would carefully pull a still-warm hard-boiled egg from his patched pocket and press it into my hand. I only learned later that it was his entire breakfast. At the time, I thought it was the most precious gift in the world. On the way home from school, he would pedal his beat-up bicycle—where everything rattled except the bell—and carry me through the streets and alleys. The wind would catch the hem of my skirt. I would hold onto his thin waist, listening to him paint a picture of our future. “When I make money, I’m going to buy you a big house. I’ll make you the happiest princess.” “I’ll be good to you for the rest of my life. I’ll never let you suffer.” The vows still echoed in my ears, but reality had slapped me hard in the face. I looked around the cramped apartment. That single twin bed was glaringly obvious. This was where we lived after “eloping” for the sake of our so-called love. To save rent, we squeezed onto that bed, keeping each other warm, dreaming of the future. Back then, his eyes were full of gratitude and love. But ten years later, at the IPO banquet, the Julian in the tailored suit could effortlessly spin this as a stain on my character. “You’re asking if I have shame? You were sharing a bed with a man when you were seventeen.” The sound of a key turning in the lock interrupted my thoughts. The rusted cylinder made a harsh, grinding noise. Click. The door opened. Seventeen-year-old Julian stood in the doorway. He was wearing his faded uniform, the collar slightly askew. His hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead. That face was incredibly deceptive, especially paired with that cautious, terrified-of-being-abandoned expression. In my past life, it was this exact face, crying so heartbrokenly after his grandmother passed away, that broke me. I thought he was the most pitiful person in the world, and that no one but me could save him. I ran home like a maniac, begging my parents to take in this “homeless” soul. The result was entirely predictable. My parents were already against high school romance, and given Julian’s terrible reputation at school, they refused outright. “You’ve lost your mind! What’s so great about a guy like that? He’s dirt poor, and he’s got no character!” my father roared, his face red with anger. My mother stood beside him, bent double crying, gripping my sleeve tightly: “Sweetie, don’t be stupid! This is about your entire future!” At the time, my head was full of the image of Julian standing alone at his grandmother’s funeral. I thought my parents were cold-blooded, materialistic, and full of adult prejudice. Like a self-righteous crusader, I yanked my arm away and screamed at them: “You’re just snobs! I despise you!” Then, in the dead of night, I stole my parents’ savings and stormed out, never looking back. I thought I was so cool. Fighting the whole world for love—it was a plot straight out of a romance novel. The night we eloped, Julian and I huddled in a train station waiting room. He held my hand and swore, “I promise I’ll treat you ten, a hundred times better in the future. I’ll make sure you never regret choosing me today.” I believed him. I really believed him. Even later, when we were living in a basement apartment and eating instant noodles, I thought it was just a necessary trial for true love. How was I supposed to know that what I gave up wasn’t just my education, but my bright, promising future? I hadn’t just abandoned my parents; I had abandoned the only people in the world who truly loved me. Life after eloping was a slow, agonizing execution. Julian’s so-called “startup” started out as just flipping electronic scrap. He didn’t have enough capital. So, he set his sights on the savings I had stolen from my parents. It was the last of our living expenses. “Just this once. If we make money, we can move into a big house. You won’t have to suffer with me anymore.” I refused. He dropped to his knees and begged me. Kneeling on the cold concrete, he slapped himself hard, over and over, calling himself useless, saying he had dragged me down. My heart softened. I gave him the money, and we couldn’t even afford food. To make ends meet, I was forced to wash dishes. My hands peeled from the harsh detergent. But that meager salary was just a drop in the bucket. It couldn’t fill the massive hole in our lives. Finally, unable to pay rent, I went to work at a nightclub. The first time I put on that revealing promotional uniform, I hid in the bathroom and cried for a long time. Greasy hands groped me, and the harsh liquor burning my throat felt like swallowing razor blades. Every time I came home, vomiting until I was dizzy, Julian would hold me with red-rimmed eyes. “Just wait a little longer. When I’m rich, I’ll give you my life.” How touching. In those moments, I felt all my suffering was worth it. Even when someone secretly took photos of me selling liquor at the club, I didn’t care. I only thought that selling one more bottle meant a little more startup capital for Julian. Later, Julian actually succeeded. His company went public; he was worth hundreds of millions. I thought our hard times were finally over. But what followed were his increasingly late nights and the lingering scent of foreign perfumes on his clothes. I found diamond stud earrings in his pockets. I saw texts from interns on his phone: “Mr. Vance, where are we going tonight?” I confronted him with the evidence. He didn’t even look up. “Do you have any idea how much pressure I’m under? Can you stop being unreasonable and suspicious all the time?” Unreasonable? I suffered with him for ten years, and my reward was being called unreasonable. On the day the company went public, a beautiful young woman stood beside him, holding his arm, smiling brightly. Julian listened to her. He decided that if he didn’t fire his “plain Jane” wife, he would look like he was “afraid of his wife,” which would undermine his authority with the shareholders. And so, that scene unfolded. The big screen lit up. It didn’t show the company’s brilliant achievements. It showed videos of me being forced to drink and being groped at the nightclub. The audience gasped. Julian stood under the spotlight, looking deeply pained. “I never imagined my wife had such a disgraceful past.” “For the sake of the company’s image, I have to make this decision…” He kicked me off the board, using the excuse that he wanted me to “return to the family.” With just a few words, he manipulated public opinion to nail me to the cross of public shame. I snapped completely out of my past memories. Looking at the slightly awkward teenager in the doorway, my stomach churned again. The visceral disgust overpowered the shock of rebirth. Julian moved his lips, as if trying to say something. This time, he didn’t drop to his knees and beg for the money like I remembered. He didn’t put on a tearful performance. He just stood there, his expression complicated. It was a strange look. Not the look of a poor kid desperate for cash, but more like he was scrutinizing me, even carrying a hint of… an unnameable hesitation. Could he also be…? The thought flashed through my mind for just a second. Whether he was or not, it had nothing to do with me anymore. I didn’t say a word. I simply walked around him toward the stairs. As we brushed past each other, I heard him call my name: “Elena…” His voice was very quiet, as if something was caught in his throat. I didn’t stop, and I didn’t look back. I walked out of that dilapidated apartment building, found a payphone, and with trembling hands, dialed the number I knew by heart. Half an hour later. A taxi slammed on its brakes by the curb. My father hadn’t even put his shoes on properly. My mother’s hair was a mess. They stumbled out, running toward me. Seeing them looking so worn out, my tears fell instantly. “You stupid girl! Do you have any idea how worried we were?” My father raised his hand as if to slap me, but when it landed, it was just a gentle pat on my back. My mother pulled me into a fierce hug, crying so hard her whole body shook. “You’re back. Thank God you’re back…” I hugged her back just as tightly. That warm embrace felt so real I wanted to bawl. This time, I would absolutely never let go.

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My boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart lost a game. The penalty was to slap a female friend in the room. And the only other woman there, was me. She stood up, acting all hesitant. “I don’t know, Victoria is older than us. She probably doesn’t like the kind of games we young people play.” The rest of the crowd jeered: “If you don’t slap her, you have to down your drink.” Mia looked conflicted. “But I’m severely allergic to alcohol.” My boyfriend nudged me toward Mia. “Just let her slap you, it’s not a real slap anyway, just for show.” “Mia is allergic to alcohol, she can’t drink. Don’t make this hard for her.” I thought I misheard him. I asked again. Noah was slouching lazily on the couch. “I said just let her slap you, it’s not real, we’re just playing a game.” I froze. “What if I don’t want to?” Mia smiled and explained. “Victoria, I won’t really hit you.” “I’ll just lightly tap your face, and we can say I passed the dare.” I still flat-out refused her. The others started hollering again. “Then drink! Mia downs the drink in front of her and it’s over.” Mia looked at the shot glass in distress. “But I’m allergic, what am I supposed to do if I can’t drink?” My boyfriend beside me got annoyed. He curled his lip. “You really can’t just play along and pretend for a second?” “Mia is allergic, stop giving the poor girl a hard time.” I stared at him. “I’m giving her a hard time?” “Aren’t you?” I let out a dry laugh. “Let’s break up.” The eyes of the entire room snapped toward us. Noah looked stunned. “Break up? Why? Just because Mia has to slap you for a game?” “Yes, just because of this.” Mia laughed awkwardly. “It’s just a game, Victoria, don’t take it so seriously.” “Noah is just worried about me. When I was a kid, I accidentally had two sips of liquor and immediately passed out on the floor, unable to breathe. He was so terrified he gave me CPR right then and there.” She nudged the two friends sitting next to her. “Ugh, I told you guys we shouldn’t play this. Victoria is a few years older than us, she doesn’t get the fun of the game and now she’s mad.” Every word was dripping with passive-aggressive condescension. I wasn’t about to indulge her. “Why do I need to ‘get’ this kind of game? A bunch of people using a game as an excuse to grope each other?” I pointed at one of the guys. “Does your girlfriend know you’re passing water mouth-to-mouth to other women?” “And you, your wife is home nursing your baby, and you’re sitting here with another woman in your lap calling her babe.” “And dragging innocent bystanders into this, running up to someone just to call them ugly for no reason, what is wrong with you?” “Whether you’re actually playing a game or just using it to cheat, you know best.” Noah’s frat brothers turned beet red at my words. Someone muttered under their breath. “It’s literally just a game, taking it way too seriously.” “Told you not to date older women.” “Generation gap.” “Almost 30 and still such a buzzkill.” I pushed open the door of the VIP room. Without looking back. “That’s right, I am a buzzkill, so this older woman is out of here.” “They’re a bunch of toxic losers.” After venting to my best friend, I felt a lot better. “Vic, are you really going to break up with your golden retriever boyfriend this time?” “After all, with how hot he is, you used to say you’d give him anything if he just shed a tear.” I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty face. Noah had a gorgeous face and an incredible body. And his skills in bed were phenomenal. He checked every single one of my boxes. I had indeed said things like that in the past. But if looks were all there was… Anyone would get tired of it eventually. I stared at the nineteen missed calls from Noah on my phone. And made up my mind. “Yes, I’m really breaking up with him this time.” My best friend smiled and shook her head. “Alright, I’ll bet three days.” “In less than three days, he’ll definitely come begging for you back, and you’ll forgive him.” I didn’t have to wait three days. Because Noah was already at my door to repent. When I got home. Noah was kneeling on the front porch. It was raining outside. He was completely drenched. Even though he clearly arrived a while ago, he made no effort to change out of his wet clothes. The thin white dress shirt clung to his skin, tracing the smooth, muscular lines underneath. He kept his head bowed. “I was wrong.” “I panicked back there, I’m sorry.” I stepped around his body. And sat straight down on the couch. “What were you panicking about?” “I…” I lit a cigarette. Taking my time to speak. “You were panicking that she might actually have an allergic reaction if she drank that shot, right?” Noah stayed silent. “Yes. I promised Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan I’d take good care of her.” “Acute anaphylaxis is serious, she could go into shock.” I blew out a ring of smoke. “So you needed her to slap me?” “She wasn’t actually going to slap you.” Noah panicked and tried to explain. “She wasn’t really going to hit you. Look, I messed up, Vic, can you forgive me?” My face hardened. “There were so many other ways to get her out of that dare. You could have taken the shot for her, or let her accept whatever the penalty was for losing.” “But you didn’t. Your first reaction was to make me play along and be her prop.” “You didn’t want her to drink, and you didn’t want her to be punished.” “So you offered up my face.” “When I refused, you guys had the nerve to say I was being a buzzkill.” “Who gave you the right?” Noah kept apologizing while moving closer to my side. He carefully took off my high heels. “It’s my fault, Vic.” “I didn’t think it through, I’m so sorry.” I pushed him away coldly. “A person’s subconscious first reaction exposes a lot of problems, do you know that?” “Noah, you don’t love me nearly as much as you think you do.” Noah had begged me to go to this party. Normally, I hate attending things with the younger college crowd. Noah gave me the puppy dog eyes and pleaded for five days. “Just this once, please?” “My friends all really want to meet you.” “And my neighbor just moved back from Europe, she wants to meet you too.” “Neighbor?” “Yeah, my old neighbor.” I knew Noah had a childhood sweetheart he grew up with. Their families lived right across the hall from each other. Noah’s mother died early. His dad became violently abusive whenever he got drunk. During Noah’s dark childhood. It was Mia’s family that gave him love and care. Later, Mia’s family moved to Europe. The two of them gradually lost touch. Noah met me in college. We met, fell in love, and the relationship was pretty smooth sailing. Right around our three-year anniversary. Noah suddenly got news that his childhood crush was moving back to the States. “Vic, she’s literally just the neighbor who lived next door to me growing up.” I looked at the picture on Noah’s phone. A sharp nose, big bright eyes. “She’s pretty.” Noah wrapped his arms around me. “You’re not actually jealous, are you? Relax, I don’t mix business with pleasure. I’ve always seen her as a little sister.” “If I had any feelings for her, we would have dated a long time ago.” As we spoke. Noah’s lips found mine again. In the heat of the moment. Noah whispered in my ear: “You know me, I don’t like young girls. Girls my age are too much drama, I like older women.” I was six years older than Noah. The year he started college as a freshman, I went back to campus for a recruiting event. I was incredibly stressed out and busy at the time. While walking through the student center, I accidentally bumped into a guy coming the other way. The iced coffee in his hand spilled all over me. The kid realized my blouse was designer and expensive. He bowed his head and apologized. “I’m so sorry. Please tell me how much the shirt costs, I’ll pay you back in full.” I was too busy with work. I just waved him off. “Don’t worry about it.” I didn’t expect him to latch onto me because of it. “Please, if you won’t let me pay for the shirt, at least let me do something else to make it up to you.” “If there’s anything else I can help you with, please let me know, otherwise my conscience won’t let it go.” “Miss Sterling,” “Victoria,” “Boss,” “Beautiful”… He haunted me like a charming little ghost, popping up everywhere until he wore me down. Until we finally ended up sleeping together. My best friend laughed at me. “Never thought you’d fall for a younger guy.” I stuck my tongue out. “Dating a younger guy actually has its perks.” In the days that followed. He was like a loyal puppy. Satisfying my every need. I just didn’t expect. That no matter how good the dog is, if he sees a wild bone outside, he’s going to want a taste. In the month before Mia came back to the States. Things subtly started to change. Once, Noah was in the shower. His phone suddenly got a call. It was an international number. I remembered him mentioning his childhood friend who lived abroad. So I answered the call. I said “Hello” twice, and asked “Who is this?” A hostile voice suddenly demanded from the other end. “Who the hell are you?” I replied politely. “I’m Noah’s girlfriend. He’s in the shower, but I’ll tell him you called as soon as he’s out.” Before I could even finish. She slammed the phone down and hung up. When Noah got out, I told him what happened. His expression instantly changed to pure panic. He didn’t even care that the water dripping from his hair was soaking his clean shirt. “Did you say anything else to her?” “No, that was it.” “Okay, I got it.” He grabbed his phone. I don’t know what he texted her. But that night. That international number called him fifteen times. Until Noah finally picked up the last call. I heard the voice on the other end say: “Wow, Noah. You get a girlfriend and you wait until now to tell me?” That was when I realized. That he had completely hidden our relationship. He never told his childhood friends about me. And that welcome-back party. Was actually a firing squad set up specifically for me. The moment Mia arrived, she completely bypassed me and made a beeline for Noah. Only after hugging him and kissing his cheeks did she remember I was there. She pointed at me: “Noah, who is this?” Noah put his arm around my waist. “My girlfriend, Victoria.” Mia covered her mouth in exaggerated shock. “Oh! So she’s your girlfriend? I honestly thought she was one of your corporate managers.” Noah’s other frat buddies snickered along with Mia. “Haven’t seen you in a few years, didn’t know you were into this type, bro.” I suppressed my anger. And reached out my hand amicably. “Hi, I’m Victoria.” When she looked at me again, her eyes were filled with an inexplicable, fiery hostility. “I’m Mia, Noah’s childhood sweetheart.” Realizing that sounded a bit out of line. She quickly added: “Hahaha, I’m kidding, please don’t be mad. I’m just the girl who grew up in the apartment next door to him.” At the dinner table. They came at me from every angle. Prying into my career, probing about my income. Interrogating me on how Noah and I got together. “Victoria, you’re almost 30, when are you and Noah planning to tie the knot?” “Too bad Noah is only 24, he probably won’t settle down this early.” “If Noah doesn’t want to get married, aren’t your parents breathing down your neck?” “Are you really willing to wait until he’s 30 to get married?” “But if he’s 30… you’ll be 36.” “Victoria, does anyone ever call you a cougar for dating him?” I shot down these questions one by one. “I’m not in a rush, my family doesn’t pressure me.” “Marriage? Depends entirely on my mood.” “My family doesn’t have a royal bloodline to pass down, so I’m not stressing about having kids.” “Cougar? Never heard of it. I’ve heard of a sugar baby though, I wonder if that means the same thing.” Until Noah finally decided to step in and rescue me. “Alright, stop messing around guys, Victoria and I have a long way to go, we haven’t thought about marriage yet.” I don’t know why. But when Noah said that. His eyes kept darting over to Mia. Even an idiot could tell. That there was absolutely some history between him and Mia.

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When my husband got sick, I went to his office for the first time to call in sick for him. The receptionist looked at me like I was crazy. “You must be joking. The man you’re talking about is our company’s CEO.” “Besides, our CEO and his wife commute to work together every single day.” “And you definitely don’t look like the CEO’s wife…” The next second, my husband—who was supposed to be bedridden at home—walked out of the elevator with his arm wrapped around his first love. Our eyes met, and his smile froze on his face. I looked at him in his bespoke suit, laughing so hard that tears streamed down my cheeks. “The watch on your wrist is worth more than my yearly salary, yet you played the part of a broke accountant making three thousand bucks a month to me.” “You told me your startup went bankrupt. I sold the only house my parents left me to cover your debts. I wrote code during the day and worked the cash register at a convenience store at night. I wouldn’t even go to the hospital when my stomach ulcers were bleeding!” “Tell me, why did you play me like this?!” My husband mumbled, unable to form an answer. His first love smiled and linked her arm through mine. “Don’t blame him. When he married you, he swore to me that everything he owned, including his body and his wealth, belonged to me.” “So stop wishing for things that aren’t yours.” Seven years of marriage. I thought we were surviving the storm together, but I was just a temporary extra in someone else’s script. But I am Nolan Pierce’s legal wife. Can they really take everything and leave me with absolutely nothing? 1 “Shut up, it’s not your turn to speak! Nolan Pierce, tell me right now, is this true?!” I cut off Vanessa Croft’s smugness, demanding an answer with red eyes. Nolan sighed. “Eleanor, listen to me. I was just afraid that if you became a wealthy socialite, you’d lose your drive and ambition. I didn’t want to hurt your pride. Besides, didn’t you say you would provide for me?” “Stop gaslighting me! Seven years! Nolan, we’ve been married for seven years! Are seven years not enough for you to know what kind of person I am? If I didn’t have ambition, would I have sold the only property my parents left me to fund your startup?!” My voice started to tremble. “Or did you just think I was stupid enough to be fooled for a lifetime?” He let go of Vanessa’s hand and reached out to grab me. “It’s not like that, El.” I took a step back. My footing was a little unsteady because my heels were worn out, but I could never bring myself to spend money to replace them. My eyes fell on Vanessa. She was wearing a pair of Valentino heels, a haute couture dress, and on her wrist sat a sparkling Tiffany & Co. bracelet. Back then, Nolan used to joke with me: “When I’m rich, I’ll buy you so many luxury goods you can show them off all over Instagram.” Turns out he really did buy them. He just gave them to someone else. I choked down the bitterness in my throat and asked him. “Not like what? What about her?” Nolan glanced at her. “Vanessa and I are just friends.” Vanessa’s smile immediately dropped. “Nolan!” Nolan grabbed her arm, gave her a warning look, and then turned back to me. “It’s true that Vanessa is my first love, but you knew that back then. When have I ever hidden my past from you?” “We are just business partners now. She wants to invest in my company.” I gritted my teeth. “Then what did she mean by what she just said?!” Nolan carefully glanced at Vanessa before giving a dismissive excuse: “Come on, you know she loves to joke around. She was just messing with you…” Before he could finish, Vanessa cut him off. “I wasn’t joking. Didn’t you say exactly that to me on FaceTime the night of your wedding? Eleanor was literally sleeping right next to you…” Nolan barked out in a panic: “Vanessa!” Vanessa rolled her eyes and went quiet. But my heart had already hit rock bottom. It was all true. Nolan didn’t dare look me in the eye. His guilty conscience was masked by impatience. “Don’t listen to Vanessa’s nonsense, none of that happened. Just go home for now. I have to meet a client soon. I’ll explain everything to you tonight.” I took a deep breath. “You don’t need to explain anything.” “I want a divorce from you, Nolan Pierce.” “That’s exactly eight words. Let’s call it a million dollars a word.” “Eight million dollars to buy out our marriage and let you two be together. Sounds like a bargain, doesn’t it?” 2 “Eleanor, calm down. We’ll talk about this at home.” I cut him off. “You mean that crumbling five-hundred-dollar-a-month apartment with the peeling paint?” I really wanted to laugh. His expression changed. The employees arriving for work in the lobby were starting to stop and stare. He reached out to grab me. “Stop making a scene here, it looks bad.” “Let go of me,” I said through gritted teeth. He refused to let go. “Aren’t you just throwing a fit because I didn’t spend my money on you? Do you really have to play the victim in public?” “I slept with you for seven years for free! You should be grateful!” “Let me tell you, the more you act like this, the less money you’re ever going to get from me!” I stared at him in utter disbelief. I never imagined I’d hear such vile words coming from my own husband’s mouth. I felt like I didn’t know him at all. Or rather, I had never truly known him. Vanessa watched us struggling and let out a mocking laugh. “Let’s go, Nolan. It’s so embarrassing to make a scene here.” “Didn’t you promise to buy me a new bag before we meet the client?” Nolan agreed without hesitation. “Yeah, no problem. And I’ll help you upgrade your car, too! Image is everything when meeting clients, after all.” Vanessa shot me a provocative glare. “Hear that? Nolan’s money is my money. You want eight million for a divorce? Keep dreaming.” “But hey, you did take care of Nolan for me all these years. That counts for something. If you’re willing to call me ‘big sister’, I’ll tell Nolan to cut you a check so you can replace those cheap Temu knockoffs you’re wearing.” Those words stung more than a physical slap. I thought of all the days I spent penny-pinching. I thought of the winter coat I hadn’t replaced in five years. I thought of the makeup I never dared to buy. I thought of being humiliated by drunk customers during my night shifts at the convenience store. The humiliation boiled over. As Vanessa arrogantly leaned her face in to mock me, I used every ounce of strength I had and slapped her right across her self-proclaimed aristocratic face. Vanessa stumbled back two steps. Time seemed to stand still. It took a few seconds for Vanessa to process what happened. Her face twisted in rage. “You bitch! You piece of trash! Nolan! She hit me!” Nolan reacted instantly. He shielded Vanessa behind him, tenderly cupping her cheek. “Eleanor, are you crazy?!” He raised his hand and brought it down hard. I didn’t have time to dodge. My entire face burned with a stinging pain. Fighting through the pain, I screamed at Nolan: “Don’t push me!” Nolan yelled back: “Push you? Try hitting her again! If you had a spine, you wouldn’t be saying this crap!” “You have zero ambition! Seven years of marriage and you’re still a bottom-tier coder! If you were actually capable, would you need to work a cash register at a convenience store after your day job?!” “You’re useless, so don’t take your anger out on other people! If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for being a failure!” “Do you know I don’t even dare bring you up to other people? I’m embarrassed by you!” The cut on my face started to bleed. It felt sticky, the warmth slowly turning cold. I felt so cold. My whole body was freezing. I thought of my manager making my life a living hell, dumping everyone else’s unfinished work on me. I was the only one working until midnight for the exact same salary, all because he knew I was desperate to pay off my husband’s debts and wouldn’t dare quit. I was afraid Nolan would worry, so I never told him about any of it. But now, my deepest wounds had become the very weapons the person I loved most was using to stab me. I looked at them coldly, my voice hoarse. “Nolan Pierce, as of today, we are done.” He froze for a second: “What?” “You think eight million is too much? Fine. The money you owe me, the blood you made me shed—I will collect it all in court, penny by penny.” And the marital assets. Including the company he started with my money, the profits from all these years, the houses, cars, and bags he bought for Vanessa. I was going to take half of everything. Vanessa’s head snapped up: “In your dreams!” I didn’t answer. I just turned around and walked toward the main doors, step by step. With every step, my face throbbed. With every step, I bled. But I kept my back perfectly straight. A person can fall down, but they must never bend the knee. As for whether I was dreaming—I didn’t need to answer her. I trusted my lawyer would give her the answer. 3 By the time I walked out of the law firm, it was completely dark. I endured the pain and went home. The second I walked in, I saw an open suitcase in the middle of the living room. Nolan was packing his clothes. Vanessa was sitting on the couch. “You’re back?” Nolan looked up at me. His tone was as calm as if nothing had happened. “Perfect timing. I need to tell you something.” “Vanessa’s health has always been fragile. Your slap today triggered her heart condition.” “The doctor said she needs someone to take care of her. I’m going to stay with her for a few days.” I picked up a box of condoms from the corner of his suitcase. “Did her cardiologist prescribe these, too?” He impatiently snatched the box out of my hand. “It got tangled in my shirts and fell in by accident. I didn’t even notice. You’re just being paranoid.” “I know you’re in a bad mood today, so I’m not going to argue with you. Vanessa needs me right now. I’ll explain everything when I get back.” Needs. When he needed me, I was always there. When I needed him, he was with someone else. Is that fair? No. But marriage has never been about fairness; it’s about willingness. I was willing for seven years. Now, my heart was dead, and my love was gone. “Okay,” I said, turning and walking into the bedroom. I opened the closet and started packing his things. When I got to the framed photos, my hands paused. It was our wedding photo. I was smiling so brightly. His eyes were full of light. “Eleanor, what are you doing?” He followed me in, a trace of panic finally bleeding into his voice. “Weren’t you leaving?” I didn’t look back. I threw the framed photo into the trash can. “I’m helping you pack, saving you a trip.” “I told you it’s only for a few days—” “Then don’t ever come back. Take your stuff, take the person who needs you, and get out.” Nolan fished the frame out of the trash and carefully placed it back on the nightstand. “Stop throwing a tantrum. Once she’s better, I promise I’ll come right back.” Vanessa appeared in the bedroom doorway. “Nolan, I have a new project I want you to invest in. It’s guaranteed to make a massive return. I sent the business plan to your phone, take a look.” Nolan barely even glanced at it before casually replying: “Don’t worry about it, I don’t need to read it. I’ll have accounting wire you ten million tomorrow.” Before his phone screen went dark, my sharp eyes caught the header of the business plan. This was Vanessa’s tenth startup attempt. Ten million dollars. How long would I have to stand at a cash register, how much code would I have to write, just to earn that? I could probably work myself to death and never see that kind of money. I thought of the news stories about 32-year-old tech workers dropping dead from exhaustion. If I hadn’t discovered the truth and kept breaking my back to pay his fake debts, that probably would have been my fate. Hearing his answer, Vanessa looked at me, a smirk playing on her lips. “Eleanor, why are you sneaking peeks at my business plan? Do you want to start a company too?” I didn’t expect her to catch my gaze despite my efforts to hide it. Nolan glanced at me. “Don’t joke around. She doesn’t have the brains for it. She can’t even tell a bull market from a bear market. If she actually tried trading, she’d buy high and sell low every time. She’s destined to be a corporate drone for the rest of her life.” I coldly cut him off: “Are you done?” He froze. I pointed at the door. “If you’re done, get out. Get out of my apartment!” “Eleanor, this is our—” “No, this is mine. I pay the rent. I pay the water, electricity, and gas. I bought the furniture and the appliances. Other than living here for seven years, what exactly have you contributed?” He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat. Because I was telling the truth. For the past seven years, not only did I transfer him a thousand dollars a month to pay his “debts,” but I also covered every single household expense. I even pinched pennies just to buy him expensive suits and watches, terrified his coworkers or friends would look down on him. And the truth? He was rich. Filthy rich. He played me for a fool while throwing millions at another woman, and called her “just a friend”! Nolan’s tone turned icy: “Fine. I’m leaving. Don’t regret this!” “Get out!” The front door slammed shut. The apartment was suddenly dead silent. It was too quiet. I could hear the hum of the refrigerator. I could hear my own heartbeat. I slowly sank to the floor. The tears fell, hitting the hardwood floor. One drop. Two drops. I covered my face and sobbed uncontrollably. I don’t know how much time passed, but my phone vibrated. I picked it up. It was a photo from an unknown number. On a large hotel bed, Nolan was fast asleep. Vanessa’s face was pressed against his chest. There was a line of text below the photo: “Thanks for stepping aside.” I stared at that photo for a very, very long time. Then I typed back: “Thanks for taking out the trash.” Message sent. The private investigator had told me Nolan was extremely careful and he had never been able to get concrete evidence of infidelity. Now I had it. 4 The next day, I stood in front of the HR department’s glass doors. The words on the paper in my hand were almost comical. Embezzlement? Three point two million dollars? Absurd. I was just a tech team lead. The largest funds I ever handled were for team equipment procurement. Where would I get the authorization to move three point two million? I spoke coldly to the HR director: “I demand to see the system operation logs and the audit reports.” The HR director pushed his glasses up his nose, a trace of pity in his eyes. “Our company was acquired. If you want to see them, you have to ask the new boss.” “And who exactly is the new boss?!” “Ms. Croft.” … I shoved the door to the CEO’s office open like a maniac. Sure enough, Vanessa was sitting behind the desk. Nolan was beside her, looking down at some documents. “Well, well, if it isn’t our brilliant tech lead.” Vanessa’s smile was sickeningly bright. “Team Lead Eleanor. Actually, shouldn’t it be former Team Lead?” The blood rushed to my head. But I forced myself to stand my ground and take a deep breath. “Nolan, that audit report is forged. Procurement orders require three-tier approval. I only have recommendation rights, not final signature authority. The system logs will prove it.” Nolan finally bothered to look up. “The system was hacked. The logs were lost. And what a coincidence, the only logs lost were the ones involving the procurements you handled.” The coincidence was so laughable I actually scoffed. “I built the company’s security architecture with my own hands. I wrote the firewall rules myself. You expect me to believe it just got hacked because you said so?” Vanessa leaned back in the executive chair, grinning broadly. “That’s exactly why I suspect you. An inside job is the easiest thing in the world, isn’t it? Modifying a few log files, forging a few procurement records… that’s a piece of cake for a senior engineer like you, right?” I clenched my fists. “You tampered with the database!” Vanessa stood up. “You need evidence to make accusations. Right now, every single log points directly to you. Have fun facing the lawsuit for massive damages. Who knows, you might even do some prison time.” She leaned in close, lowering her voice: “Or… you could get on your knees and beg me? Maybe if I feel merciful, I’ll tell Nolan to ask for a lower settlement?” My stomach churned with disgust. “Nolan, do you seriously have nothing to say?!” Nolan looked at me, his tone light and indifferent. “You’re the one with sticky fingers. We’re giving you a way out. We’re actually helping you.” I screamed in pure fury: “Helping me?! Nolan, you played me for a fool for seven years, wasn’t that enough? Now you’re using this despicable trap to ruin my life?! Do you hate me that much? You hate me so much you have to destroy everything I have to be satisfied?!” His face went pale. Vanessa lunged forward and grabbed my arm: “Who the hell do you think you’re yelling at?!” “Let go of me! You just want to see me beg on my knees, don’t you? You want to see me crawl over like a dog and lick your boots? Keep dreaming!” I turned to Nolan: “I’m not paying a single cent. And I’m not pleading guilty to anything. Call the cops if you have the guts. I’ll see you in court!” Nolan’s lips trembled. He opened his mouth to say something, but Vanessa beat him to it. “Nolan, why don’t you step outside and get a coffee to cool off?” Nolan hesitated for a moment, then turned and walked out. The second the door closed, Vanessa’s disguise completely vanished. “Let’s lay all our cards on the table, Eleanor. You’re just bitter, aren’t you? Bitter that Nolan chose me. Bitter that you’re not getting enough money in the divorce. Bitter that you saw that photo?” My body went rigid. “Oh, looks like I hit a nerve.” “Good picture, wasn’t it? Nolan was so incredible that night. We went through three whole boxes…” The blood was roaring in my ears. “What exactly is your point?” My voice was ragged. “My point is that you’ve lost, Eleanor. Completely and utterly. Nolan’s body is mine, his heart is mine, and everything he owns is mine. Including this company, and every single dime he makes in the future.” “And you? You’re just trash waiting to be thrown out.” I raised my hand and slapped her hard. My palm cracked against her cheek. Vanessa touched her face. A vicious glint flashed in her eyes, but she quickly smiled again. “Getting angry? I’ll give you one last chance, Eleanor. Walk away from the marriage with nothing, and disappear forever. If you do that, I’ll drop the charges and let you live.” “Three point two million dollars, Eleanor. How much code do you have to write to earn that?” In that split second, the last thread of my sanity snapped. Just as I tackled Vanessa to the floor and raised my hand to beat the living hell out of her, the door swung open. Nolan stood in the doorway. Vanessa wiped at nonexistent blood on the corner of her mouth. “Nolan! She attacked me again! I was just trying to talk to her reasonably, and she went crazy!” I tried to explain. “I didn’t—!” “Enough!” Nolan cut me off. He spoke into a radio in his hand, and two bodyguards immediately appeared, grabbing me by both arms. One of them kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to drop to the floor. They forced my face flat against the carpet. I heard Nolan’s cruel, cold voice above me. “Vanessa, however she hit you, hit her back.” Vanessa walked closer and then planted her high heel directly on my face. She ground the heel into my skin, and then, without hesitation, kicked me right in the face. My nose exploded in pain, and blood began pouring out instantly. Suddenly, I couldn’t feel the pain anymore. I just felt ridiculous. Seven years of pouring my heart and soul into a marriage, and this was my reward. Nolan’s voice echoed coldly. “You really don’t know when to quit, Eleanor. I’m calling the cops right now. Let’s see how tough you act then.” The moment he finished speaking, his cell phone rang. He answered it, looking confused. As he listened, his expression grew increasingly grim. When he hung up the phone, he stared at me in disbelief. “You… you actually filed for divorce…?”

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After being brought back to my wealthy biological family, the fake heiress, Serena, took me along on ninety-nine dates with her fiancé. Every single time, she would cry and say, “You’re the one who should be his fiancée. I’m just an imposter.” She would brazenly lock me in a room with Elias, and deliberately re-gift me the presents he gave her. She even made me wear the exact same dress as her to test him. And every single time, Elias firmly chose her. Satisfied by his unwavering preference time and time again, Serena’s behavior became increasingly outrageous. Until the final time, when Serena demanded that Elias propose to her on a livestream witnessed by hundreds of millions of netizens. Under the scrutiny of the entire internet, Serena once again claimed she was unworthy and bought a red-eye flight to Paris. “Elias, she’s the one who should be your fiancée.” She thought this time would end exactly like all the times before. But Elias looked at the millions of viewers on the livestream, and then at his cousins behind him, who were eagerly waiting to see him become a laughingstock. He tiredly massaged his temples. “Chloe, will you marry me?” … I smiled and put on the ten-carat pink diamond that originally belonged to Serena. Amidst the blessings of the guests and elders, I became Elias Vance’s fiancée. After seeing off the guests, only the two of us were left at the venue. Elias looked at the string of red exclamation marks indicating blocked messages on his phone and rubbed his temples. “Chloe, I’m sorry. If you ever meet someone you truly like, you can come to me anytime to break off the engagement.” “When that time comes, the Vance family will give you a fair compensation. We might have to attend some banquets together for a while. I appreciate your help.” Because of Serena’s repeated “humility,” Elias had been humiliated dozens of times, and the Vance family elders already had major issues with him. If it weren’t for me stepping in today, Elias and the entire Vance family would have become the laughingstock of our social circle. I nodded gently, my demeanor perfectly composed. “It’s alright. Until my sister comes back, I’ll play the role of your fiancée.” “Please don’t blame her. She just lacks a sense of security. When she returns, I’ll return the position of Mrs. Vance to her.” “I’ll be in your care for the time being, Mr. Vance.” Thinking about Serena running away from the proposal, Elias’s face turned incredibly grim. But when he looked at me, his expression softened slightly. He took out his phone and transferred three million dollars to my account as compensation. “If your parents hear any news about Serena, please let me know.” I nodded at him with a look of deep concern. But the moment he turned away, I deleted the location data Serena had sent me a few hours ago. She wanted to use me to relay her location to Elias, hoping for a grand, romantic, cross-continental chase, just like before. But now, I am Elias’s fiancée. Did she really think I was going to spit out what was already in my hands? Keep dreaming! After Elias drove away, I returned to the Sterling estate. My parents were sitting on the couch, anxiously calling Serena’s phone over and over. When their eyes fell on me, they looked hesitant, as if they wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. “Chloe… Serena and Elias grew up together. They are deeply in love. Your engagement to Elias today was just a stopgap measure…” “Serena is so kind-hearted. She’s willing to give all of this back to you, but you have to remember, she doesn’t actually owe you anything.” Serena’s biological mother swapped us at birth, allowing Serena to live my life as the Sterling heiress for over twenty years. Yet, my own biological parents were sitting here telling me she didn’t owe me anything. That, in itself, was a blinding display of favoritism. But I simply offered a soft smile. “I know. Don’t worry, Mom, Dad. Sister abandoned Elias at the proposal today, and the Vance family was definitely going to be furious. I only stepped in to be Elias’s bride for her sake.” “I’ll take care of Elias’s family for her and help explain things to them. When Sister comes back, I’ll return to my proper place.” My parents visibly breathed a sigh of relief. “Such a good girl. Once your sister is back, we will definitely find you a good match.” “We’ll find a family with a slightly lower social standing, so you can live comfortably without pressure.” I smiled politely and turned around. Wait for her to come back? By that time, I’ll probably already be married to Elias. 2 The next day, I dressed in an elegant, understated outfit and went to the Vance family’s main estate. The Vance family had prospered for generations, possessing deep roots and old money. This marriage was a massive step up for the Sterling family. My parents could absolutely never find another family of this caliber, which was why they were so determined to have Serena marry into it. But why should I listen to them? I brought gifts to visit Elias’s grandmother. She was a true aristocrat from the last century, and she was extremely pleased with my gentle, dignified demeanor. From then on, I visited the estate every day. Sometimes I would personally cook a dish, sometimes I would just sit and chat with old Mrs. Vance. I didn’t deliberately try to flatter Elias, but rather, I thoughtfully and subtly integrated myself into his life. After running into me at the estate several times, Elias invited me to attend a gala as his plus-one. It was my first time attending an event of this scale. Elias had been worried that I wouldn’t understand high-society etiquette and might make a mistake, but my performance completely exceeded his expectations. I conversed with the guests with perfect grace, looking every bit like a socialite who had grown up in the upper-class circle. Elias couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. Under the chandelier lights, a hint of genuine warmth appeared in his eyes. “When did you learn all this? I remember Serena saying the family that adopted you struggled financially. You shouldn’t have had access to this kind of environment.” “Struggled financially” was an understatement. I thought of the moldy peeling paint, the drafty windows, and the adoptive parents who only knew how to beat and scold me. Yet, I maintained my elegant smile. “I was afraid of embarrassing you, so I specifically hired two etiquette coaches.” “Thankfully, my hard work over this period hasn’t gone to waste.” Elias looked genuinely impressed. “To learn all this in such a short time… you’re very smart, Chloe.” I just smiled and didn’t say anything. When I first returned to the Sterling family, Serena secretly mocked me for being ignorant and unrefined. I still remember our first meeting. She cried and apologized to me, while deliberately wearing a designer outfit worth tens of thousands of dollars, swaying it right in front of my face. She used her flawless, porcelain skin to highlight my sallow, malnourished complexion. She used her twenty years of high-society upbringing to contrast my rough, unpolished manners. So, the moment I got my first allowance, I secretly hired etiquette coaches. Whatever Serena knew, I was going to learn. And whatever she didn’t know, I was going to learn that too. But I would never tell Elias any of this. “It was the least I could do.” Elias was very pleased with my answer and pulled out a black Amex card. “We are an engaged couple now. If you need anything from now on, just use this.” I flashed a playful smile and accepted it happily. “Thank you, Elias.” From that day on, my relationship with Elias grew closer. I would deliver lunch to him at work under the guise of it being from old Mrs. Vance, and I accompanied him to various events. I always maintained a comfortable, respectful distance from him. Within two months, he had grown entirely accustomed to my presence. What truly changed his view of me was during a site visit with international clients. The French translator had a sudden emergency, and I stepped in, using fluent French to help the Vance Group secure the partnership. That time, Elias stared at me for a very long time. I stood in the sunlight and smiled back at him. Elias looked stunned, as if he was seeing me for the very first time. When we parted ways that day, his expression was incredibly complex. “Chloe, you are completely different from what I imagined. You are truly an exceptional person.” From that day forward, the way Elias looked at me changed. It turned into the way a man looks at a woman. I pretended not to notice and continued to treat him with the same relaxed, easygoing attitude. He started asking me out for lunch and dinner, and would specifically bring back gifts for me when he went on business trips. Until one evening at a networking event, a man deliberately tried to get me drunk to take advantage of me. Elias immediately stepped in front of me, shielding me, and beat the guy to the ground. When I was taking Elias to the hospital to get his bruised knuckles checked, I hugged him tightly for the first time. My hands gripped his tightly. “Elias, please be okay. You have to be okay. This is all my fault.” He squeezed my hand back and rested his head on my shoulder. “Chloe, don’t worry. I’m fine.” I could hear the rapid thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat. As we were getting closer and closer, Serena, who had been waiting endlessly for Elias to come running, finally lost her patience. She used her friends back home to subtly leak her location to Elias. 3 She fully expected Elias to be ecstatic, cancel all his work overnight, and fly across the world to find her. But unfortunately, Elias merely stared at the address for a long time, and ultimately, did not go. Serena was furious, stomping her feet in anger. It was also around this time that she learned from my parents that on the very day she fled the proposal, Elias and I had gotten engaged. She believed Elias loved her so much that he could endure her ninety-nine tests. She was convinced that the only reason he wasn’t coming for her this time was because the Vance family elders had intervened. She had always been spoiled rotten and couldn’t handle the slightest grievance. She immediately called the Vance estate to demand answers. Her words were incredibly vicious: “You archaic relics of arranged marriages! Just because your own marriages are miserable, you have to intentionally torment me? Let me tell you, Elias won’t marry anyone but me!” “If you have the guts, try forcing him to marry Chloe! He would rather die than agree to it!” The person who happened to answer the phone was old Mrs. Vance. Upon hearing Serena’s tirade, she collapsed and was rushed to the ER. Old Mrs. Vance was nearly ninety years old, and her health was already fragile. The sudden surge of extreme anger put her in critical condition. She gripped Elias’s hand and told him her only dying wish was to see him get married. After all, Elias was the son of her beloved youngest child, and he had been her absolute favorite since he was born. “Elias, just marry Chloe. Before I die, I need to see you and Chloe married.” That night, Elias chain-smoked for hours and made several phone calls that wouldn’t connect. In the morning, he came to find me again. “Chloe, let’s get married.” The conditions Elias offered were incredibly generous. Not only did it include shares in the Vance Group, but also a multi-million dollar bridal gift. He said, “We’ve been very happy together these past few months. I believe you have feelings for me too. Perhaps we can try to live together like a normal married couple.” “I did have a history with Serena, but I will let her go. I will work hard to be a good husband. Will you marry me?” Elias looked slightly apprehensive. What reason did I have to refuse? This was supposed to be mine from the very beginning. The Vance family began preparing for the wedding. Serena still had no idea what was happening back home. She was still in Paris, waiting for her prince charming to break through all societal norms, defy all the elders, and appear before her bathed in light. She didn’t know her white knight was currently trying on wedding dresses with me. She even sent me another provocative text. “Chloe, I’ve given everything back to you. Have you finally gotten Elias’s and our parents’ love?” “Don’t think that just because you’re the biological daughter, you have everything. I just want to tell you, you will never be better than me, even if I hand the opportunities right to you over and over.” I didn’t reply. I calmly gazed at the radiant, smiling bride in the mirror, and then took a gorgeous selfie. Serena was stunned for a long time. Then, my phone started pinging non-stop with a barrage of abusive messages. I didn’t reply to a single one. I calmly blocked and deleted her. Serena’s signature move was advancing by retreating. The first day I came home, she announced she was giving the title of the Sterling heiress back to me, and then proceeded to slit her wrist in public with a pocket knife. My parents panicked. They spent an entire week fussing over her in the hospital, without speaking a single word to me. Seeing that my parents didn’t care about me, the maids served me cold leftovers for a week. When she returned from the hospital, she put on another fake show, saying she wanted to give me her bedroom and all the expensive jewelry my parents had bought her over the years. My parents were heartbroken for her and immediately labeled me as aggressive and power-hungry. “Chloe, it’s true you are our biological daughter, but what did Serena do wrong? She’s already being so understanding. Can you please stop targeting her?” Between the two of us, she was always the winner. She was always the one “stepping back,” and every time she stepped back, the distance between my parents and me grew wider. She was using this method to assert her dominance over me, making me realize clearly that our parents would only ever love her. And that applied to the fiancé who was originally supposed to be mine, too. But this time, she wouldn’t win. Because not everyone in the world is like the parents who raised her for twenty years, ready to indulge her infinitely. In the past, she had used me to test Elias hundreds of times. Even when we wore the exact same dress, even when she drugged him and locked us in the same room, Elias firmly stood by her side. And then she would scream with joy, throw herself into his arms, and make him spin her around. Every time that happened, I would stand awkwardly to the side, completely reduced to a prop meant to highlight her. Endless coddling had made Serena forget that the one thing in this world that cannot withstand constant testing is the human heart. I calmly prepared for the wedding with Elias. Because of old Mrs. Vance’s condition, the wedding was arranged hastily. But it had all the grandeur and prestige it required. That day, the Vance family hosted a lavish banquet, gathering all relatives, friends, and business partners. After Elias took me to pay respects to the ancestors, the highly anticipated show finally began. Even old Mrs. Vance, who hadn’t fully recovered, was discharged from the hospital. She sat kindly in the front row to witness our vows. Below the stage, countless elites and dignitaries watched the newlyweds. After a round of enthusiastic applause. The officiant raised the microphone: “Mr. Vance, do you take Ms. Sterling to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I…” Just as Elias took the microphone, Serena, wearing a full wedding gown, burst through the doors with massive fanfare. “Elias Vance, don’t you dare! I object!” 4 She looked at Elias with tear-filled eyes. “Elias, are you really going to marry her? Have you forgotten our decade of love?” “I know you were forced into this. Now that I’m back, you can marry the woman you truly love.” My parents also stood behind Serena. “That’s right. You and Serena grew up together. As long as you’re willing, the bride can be swapped to Serena right now.” Serena looked at Elias with deep affection. “I was wrong before, but I’ve done some serious soul-searching these past few months. Elias, let me be your bride, okay?” Elias looked at Serena with a complex expression, then accepted the microphone from the officiant. Serena smiled, her eyes crinkling, and took a step forward to lovingly loop her arm through his. “I only did those things before because I lacked a sense of security. But now I understand, you are my safest harbor. I will never push you away again.” “Elias, as long as you’re willing, today is our wedding, and I am your bride. My sister will bless us too, right?” My eyes turned red. I looked at Elias as if I wanted to speak but stopped myself, remaining silent. Elias forcefully pushed Serena’s arm away and took my hand. “Serena, today is my wedding with Chloe. As her sister, what exactly are you doing here?” Elias’s gaze was firm. Serena, who had thought victory was in her grasp, instantly contorted her face in shock and disbelief. “Did my sister say something to you?” “Chloe, I… I really can’t live without Elias. Please, give him back to me.” Seeing Serena looking so heartbroken, my parents immediately darkened their faces and came over to pull at me. “Chloe, this marriage was originally your sister’s. Are you trying to steal your sister’s man?” They were glaring at me in front of all these people, trying to force me to yield the bride’s position to Serena. Below the stage, old Mrs. Vance’s face had turned incredibly dark. She stood up shakily, leaning heavily on her cane. “What do you take my grandson for? Chloe is the granddaughter-in-law I have chosen. If you insist on swapping her for Serena, then this wedding is off.” My parents hurriedly stepped forward to support old Mrs. Vance with fawning smiles. “Mrs. Vance, you don’t understand. Chloe grew up on the streets. She has no upbringing and doesn’t know etiquette. She can’t compare to Serena.” “Serena is the one truly fit to be the daughter-in-law of the Vance family.” Old Mrs. Vance struck her cane hard against the floor. “Serena is the one with no upbringing! Chloe is filial and well-behaved. My eyes aren’t blind yet!” “The doors of the Vance family aren’t open for just anyone to walk through!” Seeing the old lady’s firm stance, Serena looked at Elias, tears on the verge of falling, hoping he would stand up for her. “Ms. Sterling, whatever it is, it can wait until after Chloe’s and my wedding is over.” Cold and ruthless, Elias called for two security guards to drag Serena away, then signaled the officiant to continue the ceremony. The beautiful, lyrical music started playing again. “Chloe, don’t worry. The woman I am marrying today is you.” “I will never let you down.” I put on a performance of being utterly moved, gazing at him with teary eyes. “Okay. I believe you.” Serena’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head. She couldn’t understand. Why, after so many tests where Elias had never wavered, did he suddenly become so set on me after she merely went abroad for a few months? Even with her pouring her heart out to him, he refused her. Elias didn’t spare her a single glance. He calmly exchanged rings with me. The moment the officiant announced that the groom could kiss the bride, Serena completely snapped. “Elias, watching you marry someone else is worse than death!” With that, she grabbed a fruit knife from a nearby table like a maniac and slashed it toward her own wrist. My parents were terrified and rushed to stop her, screaming at me as they did. “Chloe! Your sister is committing suicide, and you have the nerve to just stand there!” “Elias, Serena’s love for you is pure and true!” “Are you really going to just let her die?” Elias hesitated for a split second. Serena seemed to think this was her opening, calling out “Elias” in a tearful voice. But in the next second, Elias pulled out his phone and dialed 911. “Ms. Sterling is a guest, after all. It would be bad luck if something happened to her at Chloe’s and my wedding.” “This hospital has an excellent trauma center. They won’t let anything happen to her.” Serena stared at Elias in absolute disbelief. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she genuinely fainted.

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When I opened my eyes, I had returned to five years ago—the exact day my boyfriend, Liam Vance, was supposed to enter an arranged marriage with the wealthy heiress, Chloe Sterling. In my past life, I was kicked out of the Vance family without knowing I was pregnant. Five years later, Liam was diagnosed with leukemia and desperately needed a bone marrow transplant. Chloe, having discovered she was infertile, hid the truth from everyone and stole my daughter. My little girl died a tragic death while being used to save Liam. Reborn, I hid for five whole years, raising my daughter, Aria, to be healthy and chubby. This year, on Valentine’s Day, I brought Aria to the waterfront promenade to sell roses. Someone set off fireworks. The loud explosions terrified Aria, and she ran into the crowd crying. I chased after her, only to see her bump straight into Liam’s legs. Liam stared at the two identical little faces—hers and his own childhood photos—and gasped. He picked the child up, his voice trembling: “How… how old are you?” “Five!” “Who is your mother?” “Maya. She’s right over there.” 1 The wind coming off the water was freezing. I pulled my scarf tighter, crouching by my little stand to organize the roses. I wrapped them in cellophane, bunch by bunch, and placed them in plastic buckets. It was Valentine’s Day, and the promenade was packed with people selling flowers. Aria stood beside me, her little hands red from the cold, helping me count the dollar bills. “Mommy, will we sell them all today?” “We will.” I patted her head, my voice soft. A five-year-old child, so well-behaved it broke my heart. She never threw tantrums, never asked for toys. She only asked, “Will we sell them all today?” Because if we sold them all, we could afford to eat meat tomorrow. Music drifted over from a distance. Someone was proposing by the water. Fireworks shot into the sky. Aria looked up, her eyes sparkling. “Mommy, it’s so pretty!” “Yeah, it’s beautiful.” I looked at the fireworks, feeling absolutely nothing inside. In my past life, Liam had set off fireworks for me, too. It was my eighteenth birthday. He told me he would marry me. Later, he broke that promise. Bang—! A massive firework exploded, and the crowd surged backward. Aria flinched, her little face turning pale. “Mommy! I’m scared!” She stumbled, and a wave of pedestrians separated us. My heart seized. I lunged forward. “Aria! Don’t run!” There were too many people on the pier. She was so small, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone. I desperately shoved through the crowd, my hands shaking. I couldn’t lose her. I couldn’t lose her again. Finally, I spotted that tiny silhouette. She had bumped right into a man’s legs. The man was wearing a long black wool coat, his figure tall and lean. My breath stopped. It was Liam. It had been five years. He looked exactly the same. Handsome, aloof, looking down at the world from on high. Only now, there was a trace of exhaustion between his brows. I rushed over. Just as he was about to get a clear look at Aria’s face, I snatched her up and buried her face into my chest. He didn’t see what she looked like. Liam looked at me, his brow furrowing. “Are you…?” “Thank you.” I cut him off, holding Aria tight. Keeping my head down so he couldn’t see my face, I turned to walk away. “Wait!” He called out. With my child in my arms and my back to him, I froze. “Little girl, what’s your name?” He was asking Aria. Aria answered in her sweet, milky voice: “I’m Aria.” “Aria…” He repeated it, his voice sounding somewhat dazed. “Liam!” A woman’s voice rang out. Chloe Sterling ran over in her designer heels and linked her arm through Liam’s. “Why did you walk so fast…” Before she could finish her sentence, she saw me, and she saw Aria in my arms. More accurately, she saw Aria’s face over my shoulder. She froze completely, her eyes widening in shock. My heart sank. This was bad. Aria looked entirely too much like Liam did when he was a child. This was the exact time Liam was diagnosed with leukemia. If they recognized us, they would definitely force Aria to do the bone marrow transplant. Holding Aria tight, I walked quickly into the thick of the crowd. “Liam…” Chloe’s voice drifted from behind me, trembling. “That child…” “What?” Liam’s voice. I walked even faster. Aria wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered: “Mommy, why are we running?” “It’s nothing, baby. Mommy is taking you home.” I ducked through the crowd and glanced back one last time. Chloe was standing frozen in place, staring in our direction. Liam was beside her, talking to her. By the time we got back to our cramped apartment in the working-class part of the city, my hands were still shaking. I laid Aria on the bed. She had already fallen asleep, exhausted from the scare. I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her face. This face… It was what got her killed in my past life. In this life, I would not let tragedy repeat itself. But… I saw Chloe’s expression just now. She recognized her. She definitely recognized Aria’s face. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Maya, don’t be afraid. No matter what happens, you cannot panic. My phone suddenly buzzed. It was an unknown number. I hesitated for a moment, then answered. “Hello?” “Maya. Long time no see.” It was Chloe—Liam’s arranged fiancée, and his current wife. 2 My heart dropped. “How did you get my number?” “Finding you was easy,” she said with a light laugh, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Maya, that little girl from earlier… is she your daughter?” I stayed silent. “She’s so cute,” Chloe paused. “She looks just like Liam did when he was little.” I gripped my phone tighter. “Chloe, what are you trying to say?” “Nothing, I’m just curious. Who is the father?” She laughed. I bit my lip. “That’s none of your business.” “Don’t be mad,” Chloe’s voice grew even sweeter. “I just care about you. Raising a child all by yourself must be so hard, right?” “Chloe,” I said calmly. “I have nothing to do with the Vance family anymore. I’m no longer their foster daughter, and I will never be your enemy. Live a good life with Liam, and leave me alone.” I hung up. The phone rang again. It was her. I powered the phone off completely. I tossed it onto the table and leaned back in my chair. Trouble was coming. Chloe recognized Aria. What would she do? Tell Liam? Or… I remembered her methods from my past life. She wouldn’t just tell Liam. She would wait until Liam was diagnosed with leukemia, then she would steal Aria, telling Liam she simply found a random orphan who was a match. Then… Aria would have her bone marrow extracted over and over again, eventually dying before she even turned six. And Liam would never even know that the person saving him was his own daughter. I leaned back, closing my eyes as the memories flooded in like a tidal wave. When I was eight, the Vance family took me in. It was raining that day. I was squatting on the steps of the foster home, hugging my knees. Mrs. Vance, wearing a sleek black dress, held an umbrella. She looked down at me and frowned. “You’re Maya?” “Yes.” I nodded. “From today on, you are a child of the Vance family,” Mrs. Vance said. “Your new brother is a bit aloof. You need to be obedient, understand?” “I understand,” I whispered. Back then, I thought I finally had a real home. When we arrived at the Vance estate, Liam was standing by the door. He was two years older than me. Ten years old. Wearing a crisp white button-down, he looked incredibly cold. “Liam, this is your new sister. Take good care of her,” Mrs. Vance said. Liam glanced at me. “Whatever.” He turned and walked inside. I followed behind him, walking on eggshells. The Vance family was a cold place. Mrs. Vance was polite but distant. Mr. Vance was always busy; I barely saw him. Only Liam occasionally acknowledged my existence. Once, I was bullied by some kids at school. They called me an unwanted orphan. I ran home crying. I hid under the covers in my room, sobbing alone. The door suddenly pushed open. Liam stood in the doorway. “Stop crying, it’s annoying.” He frowned. I wiped my tears, not daring to make a sound. Liam walked over and tossed a piece of candy at me. “Eat this and shut up.” I stared blankly at the candy. It was my favorite milk caramel. “Thank you…” “Don’t thank me.” Liam turned to leave. “If anyone bullies you again, tell me.” And with that, he left. Leaving me alone, clutching that piece of candy, crying and laughing at the same time. From that day on, I followed him everywhere. Like a little shadow. Wherever he went, I went. Whatever he did, I watched. This went on until I turned eighteen. I knew I had fallen in love with him, but I never dared to say it. Our social statuses were worlds apart. Until one winter night, Liam got drunk, and I helped him back to his room. He suddenly grabbed my hand. “Maya.” He looked at me, his eyes hazy. “Do you know? I love you.” I froze. “I’ve loved you for a long time,” he said. “But I didn’t dare say it, because you’re supposed to be my sister.” Tears fell from my eyes. “I… I love you too…” Liam smiled. He pulled me in and kissed me. From that day on, we were together. Secretly. Terrified of Mrs. Vance finding out. Liam said that as soon as he took over the company, he would marry me. I believed him. Like an idiot, I believed him for two years. Until five years ago, Mrs. Vance called me into her study. She sat behind her massive mahogany desk, her face ice-cold. “Maya, I know about you and Liam.” 3 “Mrs. Vance…” “Pack your things. You’re moving out tomorrow,” she cut me off. “The Vance family doesn’t need you anymore. Liam has grown up. He doesn’t need a live-in babysitter anymore.” I froze. “Besides, Chloe is returning from abroad.” Mrs. Vance looked at me. “She is the one Liam is meant to marry. A true socialite, a billionaire heiress. You are just a stray we picked up from a foster home. You aren’t worthy of him.” I bit my lip, tears spilling over. “But… but Liam said he was going to marry me…” “That was before he understood what the right choice was,” she sneered. I ran to find Liam. He was standing in his bedroom, his back to me. “Liam…” I cried. “Your mother told me to move out… tell her you’re going to marry me. Please…” Liam turned around. His eyes were completely devoid of warmth. “Maya, I’m sorry. I’m marrying Chloe,” he said calmly. “Chloe’s family can help the Vance empire.” “But you said you’d marry me…” I grabbed his hand. “That was just talk.” Liam shook me off. “Maya, it’s time to grow up. Stop dreaming.” I looked at him, my heart shattering into a million pieces. “Did you… did you ever love me at all?” Liam fell silent. After a long time, he finally said: “I do. But love doesn’t change anything. I have more important things to do.” I collapsed onto the floor. A flash of pain crossed Liam’s eyes. But ultimately, he turned and walked away. It was New Year’s Eve. I packed my bags. Mrs. Vance stood by the door, watching me coldly. Carrying my suitcase, I walked out of the Vance estate. The place I had once thought was my home. It was snowing outside. I stood by the gates and looked back one last time. Liam was standing at the second-floor window. Looking down at me. Our eyes met. Then, I turned and walked away, and I never looked back. I opened my eyes, my mind clear and cold. That was the past. That naive, crying Maya was dead. In this life, I would never love him again. And I would never shed another tear for him. Early the next morning, I took Aria to the wholesale flower market to restock. As soon as we reached the entrance, I saw a black SUV parked by the curb. My chest tightened. The door opened. Chloe stepped out, followed by two men in black suits. She was wearing a beige trench coat and designer heels. Seeing me, she smiled. “Maya. What a coincidence.” I shielded Aria behind me. “What do you want?” “Don’t be nervous.” Chloe walked over. “I just wanted to have a chat.” “We have nothing to chat about.” I grabbed Aria’s hand to leave, but the two men blocked my path. “Move!” I glared at them. “It’s broad daylight, what are you trying to do?!” “Don’t get so worked up.” Chloe stepped right in front of me and looked down at Aria. “Little girl, how old are you?” Aria hid behind my legs, staying silent. “Five, right?” Chloe smiled. “If I do the math, she was born the exact same year you left the Vance family.” I bit my lip, saying nothing. Chloe looked at me. “Liam is the father, isn’t he?” “It’s none of your business.” “Of course it’s my business.” Her smile vanished. “If this child belongs to Liam, it is absolutely my business.” I stared at her, my blood running cold. I could never let her take Aria. “She’s not his.” “I did my research.” Chloe pulled a stack of photos from her coat. “For the past five years, you’ve been raising this kid completely alone. There has never been a man in the picture. So, the father can only be Liam.” I clenched my fists. “What do you want?” “Simple.” Chloe held out a piece of paper. “Five hundred thousand dollars.” “Take the money and leave. Go anywhere you want, just don’t ever show your face in this city again. And the child stays with me! I will raise her as my own!” I looked at her and sneered. “I won’t take your money, and I won’t disappear. If you want to tell Liam…” “I think you’re the one who should be afraid. If Liam finds out I’m in the city, with how deeply he loved me, and with Aria here… your status as Mrs. Vance will be nothing but an empty title.” “So I suggest you don’t do anything stupid.” Chloe’s face twisted in rage. She grabbed my arm and raised her hand to slap me. Aria suddenly broke free from behind me and stood in front of me. “Don’t bully my mommy!” Chloe’s hand connected with Aria’s face. A sharp, cracking slap. Aria was knocked backward. Her little head slammed against the concrete steps of the flower shop. “Aria!”

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The notary’s voice was perfectly calm, as if he were reading from a completely ordinary document. My older sister received five million dollars. My younger brother received five million dollars. Then it was my turn. The notary paused for three seconds and looked up at me. “A photograph.” I froze. “What photograph?” He slid a manila envelope across the polished mahogany table. I opened it. Inside was a picture taken twenty years ago. In the photo, I was seventeen, standing in the backyard of our old house, smiling like an idiot. On the back, written in my father’s handwriting, was a single line— “To my middle girl: Good luck on your SATs.” My sister and brother exchanged a look. Nobody said a word. 1. I stared at that photograph for a very long time. Seventeen-year-old me, hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing my high school track jacket, standing under the old oak tree in our backyard. It was a month before the SATs. Dad had come home from his construction job out of state—a rare occurrence—and said he wanted to take a picture of me. “When you get into a good college, I’m going to blow this picture up and hang it right in the living room.” He was smiling so brightly that day. He had even put on a clean white button-down shirt specifically for the occasion. It was the only photograph he ever took of me in his entire life. And it was the last time he ever said “good luck” to me. “Hey,” my brother’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Are you okay?” I looked up at him. His expression was complicated. He looked like he wanted to comfort me, but had no idea what to say. “I’m fine.” I slid the photo back into the envelope and stood up. “The reading is done, right? I’m going to head out.” “Wait,” my sister called out. “You’re not going to say anything?” I turned around to look at her. My sister was wearing a beige cashmere coat and a pair of heels that looked incredibly expensive. She had moved back from Europe two years ago and bought a condo in downtown Seattle. Supposedly, her in-laws covered the down payment. “Say what?” “I mean…” She hesitated. “Dad splitting it up like this… don’t you think it’s…” “No. I don’t.” I picked up my purse. “It was Dad’s estate. He got to decide what to do with it. The legal work is done. There’s nothing left to say.” “But—” “Look,” I cut her off. “You take your five million, I’ll take my picture, and we all go back to our own lives. Sounds good to me.” My sister opened her mouth but didn’t say anything. My brother stood to the side, looking down at his shoes, lost in thought. I didn’t look at them again. I pushed the door open and walked out. It was drizzling outside, the damp cold biting straight into my bones. I stood under the awning of the law firm and lit a cigarette. I had quit three years ago. Today, I started again. Five million. Five million. A photograph. I let out a short laugh, though I didn’t even know what I was laughing at. Twenty years. From seventeen to thirty-seven, I had sacrificed exactly twenty years of my life for this family. And in the end, what my father gave me was a twenty-year-old picture. My phone rang. It was my mother. “Are you done with the lawyer?” “Yeah, it’s done.” “Where are your sister and brother?” “I don’t know. I left.” “Why didn’t you wait for them?” “Mom.” I took a deep drag of my cigarette. “I’m exhausted. I just want to go home and rest.” “Home? Which home are you going to?” I froze for a second. Right. Which home was I going to? The family house back in our hometown—Dad had written it out crystal clear in the will: it went to my brother. The apartment I rented in the city was five hundred square feet and cost me two thousand five hundred a month. I didn’t own a home. I am thirty-seven years old. Divorced for five years. No kids. My total life savings amount to less than twenty thousand dollars. And the starting point of all of this was that exact photograph. It was that summer when I was seventeen. I had scored in the top one percent of the state on my SATs. My dream was to go to the state’s flagship university and major in English Literature. My dad took one look at my acceptance letter and financial aid package, and said a single sentence— “What does a girl need to read so many books for? Your brother is going to college next year too. Where is this family going to find the money to put two kids through college?” That night, I hid under my covers and cried until dawn. The next morning, I ripped up my acceptance letter and walked down to the local textile factory to apply for a job on the assembly line. That year, I was seventeen. My brother was sixteen. From that day forward, I handed my paycheck directly to my mother. I kept fifty bucks a month for my own living expenses. The rest of it, I sent home. To pay for my brother’s SAT prep courses. To pay for my brother’s college tuition. To pay for his master’s degree. To pay for the down payment on his house. To pay for his wedding. I funded his life for fifteen straight years. “Hello? Are you still there?” My mom’s voice came through the speaker. “I’m here.” “Your sister said she wants to take everyone out to dinner tonight. Sort of a memorial dinner for your dad…” “I’m not going.” “What do you mean you’re not going?!” “Mom. I’m tired.” I hung up the phone. I stood in the rain and lit another cigarette. The photograph was still in my purse. I touched the manila envelope from the outside but didn’t take it out to look at it. Twenty years. I finally knew exactly how much I was worth in my father’s eyes. Not five million. Not fifty thousand. Not five thousand. I was worth a single photograph. A photograph he hadn’t looked at in twenty years. 2. I hailed a cab back to my apartment. The driver asked, “Where to?” I gave him the address. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “You alright, miss? You look a little pale.” “I’m fine. Probably just caught a chill in the rain.” “You gotta take care of yourself in this weather.” I hummed in response, leaned back against the seat, and closed my eyes. My mind was a chaotic mess, flooded entirely with the past. I thought about the day my SAT scores came out. I scored a 1550. My high school guidance counselor called the house, practically screaming with excitement. “Maya! You have the highest score this town has seen in years! You’re a lock for the state university!” My parents were genuinely thrilled for a few days. During that week, a lot of relatives stopped by the house to congratulate us. My uncle said, “Mark, your daughter is going places! She’s gonna make something of herself!” My aunt said, “The flagship state university! She’s the only kid in our whole neighborhood to ever get in!” My mom couldn’t stop grinning, constantly offering everyone slices of watermelon and snacks. My dad just sat on the porch smoking his cigarettes, not saying much, but I could tell he was proud. Those were the happiest few days of my entire memory. And then, the acceptance letter arrived. I remember it vividly. It was mid-April. The mail carrier pulled up in his truck and yelled from the street: “Maya! Your thick envelope is here!” I ran out of the house and took that manila envelope from him, my hands literally shaking. I tore it open. Inside was the formal acceptance packet. “State University, Department of English Literature.” I stared at those words, tears welling up in my eyes. I did it. I really did it. Then my dad took the letter from my hands and looked at the financial aid breakdown. His expression shifted. “How much is the tuition?” I said, “Twelve thousand a year after the scholarships.” “Room and board?” “Eight thousand.” “Living expenses?” “…Probably another few hundred a month for food and books.” My dad didn’t say anything. He set the letter down on the kitchen table and lit a cigarette. That night, my parents stayed in their bedroom talking for a very long time. I pressed my ear against the crack in the door to listen. My mom said, “Let her go. The kid is smart, she’s definitely going to have a good career.” My dad said, “What good is a career? A daughter eventually belongs to another family anyway. Look at the Miller’s girl down the street—she graduated college and still just ended up getting married and staying home. Wasn’t all that tuition money just thrown in the trash?” My mom said, “But…” “Leo has his SATs next year,” my dad interrupted her. “If Maya goes to college, it’s gonna cost us twenty grand a year minimum. What about Leo? If he doesn’t get into a good college, his life is ruined. Maya is a girl. She can just find a husband even if she doesn’t get a degree.” My mom fell silent. Then she asked, “So… how are we going to tell her?” “I’ll tell her.” The next morning, my dad called me out to the backyard. He stood under the oak tree, a cigarette pinched between his fingers, looking out at the distant hills. “Maya.” “Yeah, Dad.” “Your brother has his SATs next year. We don’t have enough money. You…” He didn’t finish the sentence. I understood everything immediately. “Dad. You’re telling me I can’t go, aren’t you?” He didn’t answer. He just dropped his cigarette butt onto the dirt and crushed it with his boot. “You’re a girl. Reading all those books won’t do you any good. Finding a good family to marry into down the road is better than any degree.” I stood there, unable to force a single word out of my mouth. The tears fell, drop by drop, onto the grass. My dad glanced at me and frowned. “What are you crying for? I’m doing this for your own good.” For my own good. He actually said “for my own good.” That night, I put my acceptance letter in the deepest corner of my bottom drawer. I didn’t tear it up. I didn’t burn it. I just left it there. It has been twenty years. I have never opened that drawer again. The cab came to a halt. “We’re here, miss,” the driver said. I snapped out of my daze, paid the fare, and got out. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still an oppressive, heavy gray. I stood outside my apartment building and looked up at my window. Fifth floor. Facing north. Terrible natural light. I’ve lived here for five years. Five years ago, I moved from my hometown to this city. Why did I move? Because my dad got sick. A massive stroke. The doctors said he needed long-term, round-the-clock care. My sister was living in Europe. My brother had just bought a house. My mom was too old to handle the physical labor of caring for a paralyzed man. So, I came. I was thirty-two that year. I had worked at the textile factory in my hometown for fifteen years, finally clawing my way up to shift supervisor. I quit my job, sold the beat-up used Honda I had driven for eight years, moved to this expensive city, rented this cramped apartment, and dedicated my life to taking care of my father. And I took care of him. For five straight years. 3. I unlocked the door. The apartment still smelled exactly the same. Rubbing alcohol, the distinct scent of an elderly invalid, and a faint undertone of mildew. Five years. The smell had seeped into the drywall; it was never going to wash out. I sat down on the cheap futon and pulled the photograph out of my purse. Seventeen-year-old me, smiling so happily. I had no idea back then that three days after that picture was taken, my entire destiny would be derailed. I actually thought getting into college was going to be the beginning of my life. I flipped the photo over and looked at the handwriting on the back. “To my middle girl: Good luck on your SATs.” My dad’s handwriting was sloppy, the penmanship of a man who hadn’t spent much time in school. But I memorized those words for twenty years. Isn’t it hilarious? The man who shattered my dream of going to college was the same man who wrote “Good luck on your SATs” to me. I suddenly remembered exactly how this picture came to be. It was a month before the test. My dad rarely came home from his out-of-state contracting jobs. That day, he came home carrying a camera. It was one of those cheap point-and-shoots. Someone had given it to him; I didn’t even know if it was bought used. “Come here. Let your old man take a picture of you.” I stood under the oak tree, and he held the camera up. “Smile.” I smiled. He clicked the shutter. Then he said, “When you get into a good college, I’m going to blow this picture up and hang it right in the living room.” I nodded, my heart practically bursting with pride. But what happened after that? I didn’t go to college. No, I got in. But I didn’t get to go. The picture was never blown up. It was never hung in the living room. I didn’t even know where it had ended up. I assumed it was lost to time decades ago. Twenty years later, it reappeared in my father’s last will and testament. As the sole inheritance he left me. My phone buzzed. It was a text message. From my brother, Leo. “Maya, the way Dad split things up… I don’t think it’s fair either. How about this, I’ll give you half of my five million?” I stared at the text message, unmoving for a long time. Half. Two and a half million dollars. Enough to buy a nice house in this city. Enough to live comfortably for the rest of my life. I thought about it, then typed out a reply. “No need.” Send. A few seconds later, my phone started ringing. It was Leo. “Maya! Don’t do this out of spite, I’m being completely serious!” “I’m not doing it out of spite.” “Then why won’t you take it?” “Because it’s not your money to give.” Leo fell silent. “What do you mean?” “That five million was left to you by Dad. If Dad decided to split it that way, he obviously had his reasons. You keep it.” “But…” “Leo.” I cut him off. “Do you remember who paid your tuition when you went to college?” Dead silence on the other end of the line. “I paid it,” I said. “Three years of high school test prep, four years of undergrad, two years of your master’s program. Your tuition, your rent, your groceries, even the expensive LSAT prep courses you took. I paid for all of it.” “Maya, I know, I’ve always remembered—” “As long as you remember, that’s enough,” I said. “But I don’t need you to pay me back. I gave you that money willingly back then. Consider it a gift from your big sister.” “Maya…” “When you got married, do you remember how much the wedding and the down payment on your house cost?” Leo didn’t say anything. “A hundred thousand dollars,” I said. “I gave you twenty thousand out of pocket. The other eighty thousand came from Mom and Dad, and forty thousand of that was from the paychecks I had been sending home for years.” “Maya, I…” “And what about when I got married? How much did Mom and Dad give me?” Leo still didn’t speak. “Four hundred bucks,” I answered my own question. “In a red envelope. And they only gave it to me at the reception in front of the extended family so they wouldn’t lose face.” “Maya, things were really tight for the family back then—” “Tight for who?!” My voice rose involuntarily. “The year you bought your house, Mom and Dad magically produced eighty thousand dollars in cash. But the year I got married, things were so ‘tight’ they could only scrape together four hundred bucks?” “I didn’t mean it like that…” “Leo.” I took a deep breath. “I’m not bringing this up to demand money from you. I’m telling you this so you understand: I have already given enough to this family for one lifetime.” “Maya…” “You keep the five million. From now on, you and Chloe can figure out what to do with Mom. I wash my hands of it.” “What are you talking about?” “I’m tired.” I hung up the phone. I leaned back against the futon and stared at the water stains on the ceiling. I’m tired. I am so, incredibly tired. 4. I picked up the photograph again. Seventeen-year-old me, standing under the oak tree, smiling so radiantly. Back then, I truly believed that as long as I worked hard, I could change my destiny. Back then, I truly believed my parents wouldn’t let me go to college because we were genuinely poor. But what happened later? The year my brother got into college, my parents not only paid his tuition in full, but they also bought him a brand-new MacBook. That was in 2008. A MacBook cost almost two thousand dollars. I had been working at the textile factory for five years at that point, and my monthly salary was barely six hundred dollars. The year my brother graduated with his master’s, my parents paid the down payment on his house in the city. Eighty thousand dollars. Half of it was the money I had been sending home for years, combined with whatever my parents had saved. Even then, I still naively thought: Oh, the family’s financial situation has improved, Mom and Dad have more breathing room now, so they can help Leo. I never let myself think about how much of that money was built on my own blood, sweat, and tears. Now, I understand. From the very beginning, my dad never intended to let me go to college. It wasn’t because we didn’t have the money. It was because I was a daughter. “What does a girl need to read so many books for?” When he said those words, his eyes were perfectly calm. Like he was stating a universal law of nature. A daughter is meant to step aside for her brother. A daughter is meant to be sacrificed for her brother. A daughter is meant to marry someone and have kids. That was his philosophy. And it’s the philosophy of a lot of people. I looked down at the photo. “To my middle girl: Good luck on your SATs.” Heh. That was the absolute limit of my father’s expectations for me. Good luck. And then what? Then he told me I wasn’t allowed to go. I tossed the photo onto the coffee table, stood up, and went to the tiny kitchenette to pour a glass of tap water. It was pitch black outside, and the rain had started up again. I thought back to five years ago. That day, my brother called me in a panic, saying Dad was in the hospital after a massive stroke. “Maya, the doctors say it’s really bad. Can you come home?” I took a red-eye Greyhound bus back that same night. When I got to the hospital, my dad was lying in the ICU, the entire right side of his body paralyzed. My mom sat next to the bed, her eyes swollen from crying. Where was my sister? In Europe. She made a five-minute phone call saying she “absolutely couldn’t get time off work” and told my mom to “take care of herself.” Where was my brother? Pacing the hallway outside the room, aggressively whispering into his phone. I walked closer and caught snippets of his conversation: “The mortgage is due next month… with Dad being sick like this, I literally do not have the cash flow right now…” That night, the attending physician called us into his office. “The patient’s prognosis isn’t great. He’s going to require long-term, intensive rehabilitation and 24/7 care. Your family needs to discuss who will be assuming the role of primary caregiver.” I looked at my mom. She was in her late sixties and her own health was failing. I looked at my brother. He had just gotten married, and his wife was pregnant with their first child. My sister was in Europe, so she wasn’t even an option. “I’ll do it.” When I said those words, I didn’t hesitate. Because I knew there was no one else. Growing up, whenever anything went wrong in this family, I was always the safety net. “Maya, what about your job at the factory?” my brother asked. “I’ll quit.” “But—” “There’s no ‘buts,’” I said. “You focus on your new family. Mom is too old, and Chloe can’t come back. I’ll take care of Dad.” Leo opened his mouth but didn’t say anything to stop me. My mom grabbed my hands and cried. “Maya, I’m so sorry to put this burden on you…” “Mom, I’m his daughter. Isn’t taking care of him my duty?” When I said that, I actually believed it. Looking back now, it’s hilarious. Taking care of him was my “duty,” but when it came to his estate, what exactly was my share? Five years. Over one thousand eight hundred days. I rolled him over in bed to prevent bedsores. I sponge-bathed him. I spoon-fed him. I did his physical therapy exercises with him. I dragged him to the hospital for check-ups, for physical therapy, for prescription refills, for emergency admissions. I woke up every two to three hours every single night to make sure he hadn’t kicked his blankets off, or accidentally pulled out his catheter. I didn’t sleep through the night once in five years. I didn’t take a single vacation or travel anywhere. I didn’t make a single friend in this city. I quit my job at thirty-two. Now, at thirty-seven, I found out I was completely unemployable. —Who wants to hire a thirty-seven-year-old woman with no college degree and a massive five-year gap on her resume? And the origin point of all of this was that photograph. It was that summer when I was seventeen. It was my dad asking, “What does a girl need to read so many books for?” And now? My dad is dead. His estate was liquidated for ten million dollars. My sister got five million. My brother got five million. And me? A twenty-year-old picture. I stood by the window holding my glass of water, watching the rain hit the glass. I finally understood. That photograph was proof of the very last time my father ever truly “saw” me. Twenty years ago, he still remembered to take a picture of me and tell me “good luck.” For the next twenty years, the only people he saw were my sister and my brother. What he gave me wasn’t an inheritance. It was a reminder. A reminder that said: You were never important. ***

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My husband was working out of state and had to stay in the office over the holidays. I decided to buy a plane ticket and surprise him. But the only seats left were in first class. Looking at the four-figure price tag, I gritted my teeth and spent a year’s worth of my savings. When I boarded, I didn’t even know how to pull out the tray table. The wealthy woman sitting next to me sneered. “Never flown first class before?” I forced a polite smile. “I’m sorry. You must be an executive, right? You carry yourself with such elegance.” “No,” she said. “My sugar daddy is a CEO. Whenever I travel, if it’s not first class, he charters a private jet for me.” I was stunned. “A sugar daddy? That must be hard to find.” “Not really. I work for him. I make mistakes all the time and cost him a ton of money. Every time he scolds me, I cry… and, well, you know how it goes.” “What a coincidence. My husband also has a female coworker who’s always making mistakes.” “You’re married?” She looked me up and down. “My sugar daddy has a wife about your age, too. “But he says he got sick of her a long time ago. Said touching her feels like nothing, not even as exciting as when I toss my hair. “I told him I wanted to see him for the holidays, and look—he just told his old wife he had to work overtime.” I stared at the diamond ring on her finger. It was identical to my lost wedding ring. I froze. Wait—wasn’t Arthur Vance just a junior employee? When did he become a CEO? … I stared at her ring finger. “But your ring… that’s a wedding band, isn’t it? Did you and your sugar daddy get married?” “Oh, this?” Chloe Sterling admired the diamond ring. “I made him take it from his wife.” I sat there, stunned. “I wasn’t planning on making things difficult for the wife. But who told her to suddenly have a miscarriage on my birthday, making him go to the hospital to take care of her? “I had to spend my birthday all by myself.” My hand instinctively moved to my lower stomach. I suddenly recalled that freezing winter. The path home from the grocery store was covered in thick ice. Arthur’s salary was meager. Even a bicycle was a luxury for us. I slipped and fell hard. My three-month-old baby turned into a pool of blood… That day, Arthur dropped all his work and stayed by my side for three days and three nights. But when I woke up, my ring had vanished along with my child. Arthur held me tight. “It’s okay. We’ll have another baby. And the ring… I’ll have a new one made for you.” I shook my head, crying. “Didn’t you say your company is doing layoffs? We need to save money. When you make it big one day, then you can buy me a new one.” His eyes were red, tears welling up as he looked at me. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault I haven’t made enough money. It’s my fault I haven’t given you a good life.” I had just shaken my head. Beside me, Chloe was still admiring the diamond ring. I asked, “So, you made him take his wife’s ring and give it to you?” “Yeah. Actually, he refused at first. He said he’d buy me a more expensive one.” Chloe tilted her hand side to side, watching the diamond catch the light. “But the only reason that old woman is so arrogant is because she’s his wife, right? “If I didn’t punish her a little, she’d end up walking all over me.” I gritted my teeth. “To be honest, compared to the other things he’s bought me, this ring is cheap. “But at the end of the day, it’s still a wedding ring.” Chloe smiled at me. “If a woman ends up like that old hag, her life is basically hopeless.” I clenched the hem of my shirt and forced a smile. “If your sugar daddy is so willing to spend money on you, he must spend a lot to keep his wife quiet, right?” Chloe laughed. She leaned in close and whispered. “Let me tell you a secret. That old woman doesn’t even know he’s a CEO yet.” “Why?” Chloe admired her diamond-encrusted manicure. “Because there’s no point. She already wasted her youth helping him build his career. “If you were a man who finally got rich, and you saw your wife was old and fading, would you still spend money on her? It’s not like spending money is going to bring her youth back.” My slightly haggard face reflected in the window. Chloe leaned toward me. “Hey, even though you’re older than me, you still have some looks left. Since we’re sitting next to each other, let me give you some advice. “Women need to get Botox and beauty treatments. Your skin is looking a bit dry. I bet your husband doesn’t show much interest in you, does he?” I stared at her, not saying a word. Her skin was flawless, glowing with youth. I used to look exactly like her. Actually… I was prettier than her. Ten years of weathering the storms in cheap, drafty apartments had taken their toll. When I looked at my old photos now, I barely recognized myself. “Those treatments… they’re very expensive.” “So what?” Chloe shrugged. “My sugar daddy gives me fifty thousand dollars a month for living expenses, and he reimburses me for all my beauty treatments on top of that.” Looking at the tiny rhinestones decorating Chloe’s sharp eyeliner. My hands, gripping my shirt, began to tremble. “How many years… have you been his canary?” “Since June 12th, 2023. Why?” My hands shook even harder. June 12th, 2023. The day my mother died. That day, my mother needed fifty thousand dollars for surgery. I remember it vividly. Arthur begged everyone he knew and emptied his own savings account. He managed to scrape together thirty-five thousand for me. It was almost everything he had saved since he started working. Despite working myself to the bone, I only managed to borrow another eight thousand. My mother passed away. That day, he held me tight, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry. I’m a piece of trash. I couldn’t even earn enough for your mom’s medical bills! You’ve suffered so much being with me…” My heart felt like it was being sliced open. But I still wiped away his tears. “I’m so grateful you managed to get thirty-five thousand. “Mom said you did your best. She didn’t blame you, and I don’t either… It’s my fault I couldn’t get the remaining fifteen thousand…” His tears fell onto the back of my hand. He gripped my hand tightly. “Maya, just wait a little longer. Please, just wait… I promise I won’t let us live like this anymore…” I nodded through my tears. Fifty thousand dollars… He had the money all along. “You know what’s crazy? That woman’s mother needed exactly fifty thousand dollars for a surgery that same month.” I looked at Chloe. She winked her left eye at me. “He was actually going to give it to her.” My breath caught in my throat. “Did he give it to you for living expenses instead?” “No. He’s rich. He gave me fifty grand, but he still had plenty more.” “Then why didn’t he give it to his wife’s mother?” “Because…” Chloe rested her chin on her hand. “I told him that once her mother died, that woman wouldn’t have any family left. Then, even if she found out he was keeping me on the side, she wouldn’t dare say a word.” I gritted my teeth so hard they felt like they would shatter. “Plus, I had my eye on a new Chanel bag that month. It was exactly fifty thousand.” I stared at her, my eyes burning. “Aren’t you afraid his wife will find out what you did?” “Please. I’m a genius.” Chloe laughed. “I gave him the idea. I told him to give her thirty-five thousand and pretend it was his entire life savings. His wife would just think her husband did his absolute best, and she’d never suspect he was hiding someone else!” Saying this, her expression soured a bit. “The annoying part is, the reason he finally agreed to do it was to make sure the old woman wouldn’t leave him if I ever got discovered. “Ugh, that old hag has such good luck.” Smack! A slap landed squarely on Chloe’s face without warning. “Are you insane?!” Chloe’s drink spilled everywhere. A flight attendant rushed over to help her clean up. Chloe was furious. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” “Are all mistresses this arrogant these days?!” I was shaking with rage. The flight attendant quickly separated us. She moved Chloe to an empty seat further away and spoke to her in a soothing voice. Finally, Chloe calmed down slightly. Wiping her hands with the towel the flight attendant gave her, she shot me a disdainful glare. “I am so sick of self-righteous people like you. Always screaming ‘mistress, mistress.’ Let’s be honest… “Hah. You’re just mad because you’re old and can’t attract a man anymore, right? “If you were young again, you’d be throwing yourself at rich men faster than anyone else!” “You—!” The flight attendant quickly grabbed my arm as I started to lunge. I didn’t want to cause trouble for the crew, so I gritted my teeth and sat back down. Chloe looked me up and down with utter contempt. “Let me tell you the truth. You haven’t been young for a long time. I bet your husband is seeing someone else, too. “If you don’t believe me, go check his phone. A woman who looks like you… no man would want to come home to that.” Splash! I threw the fresh drink the flight attendant had just brought me right into her face. Chloe shrieked. The flight attendants scrambled to get between us. The purser forced a polite smile. “Ms. Hayes, this woman is a very important guest. Please calm down. How about I bring you some fresh fruit to help you relax?” “Important guest?” I ground my teeth. The purser leaned in and whispered softly. “She is with Mr. Vance, the CEO of Vance Enterprises. It’s for your own good to avoid her. Mr. Vance is very protective of her.” I let out a bitter laugh. The plane landed at the layover airport. Neither Chloe nor I were disembarking. We were allowed to take our phones off airplane mode. I sent Arthur a text: [Where are you?] He sent back a photo of his office cubicle: [Making money for my wife.] [Are you making it for me, or for someone else?] No reply. I sent a question mark. A second later, a familiar voice drifted over from Chloe’s seat. “Someone threw juice on you? Who dares treat my Chloe like that?” “Some crazy old woman! Ugh, it’s all your fault! If you were here, she never would have dared to do that to me!” “Okay, okay… it’s my fault.” [Transfer Received: $50,000] A robotic notification chimed from Chloe’s phone. Arthur’s voice was gentle: “Go buy yourself something pretty.” I gripped the hem of my shirt. The smile on Chloe’s face was fleeting. She immediately pouted. “Hmph! Not good enough. You told me you missed me and wanted to spend New Year’s with me! If you hadn’t said that, I wouldn’t have gotten on this plane and met that lunatic! “No amount of money can fix this! Hmph!” Arthur wasn’t angry. Instead, he sounded amused, his tone lightening up. “Then, what about the new villa your husband bought for you?” Chloe’s eyes widened slightly. “Is my Chloe smiling now? Are you happy?” “I am not!” Chloe pouted again. “But… hmph, I’ll give you a chance. Only because I love you.” “Good~ I’ll make it up to you tonight, okay?” “Three hours, not a second less!” “I’ll give you the whole night.” My hand, hidden inside my sleeve, trembled violently. I remembered when he was transferred to the East Coast branch. Whenever we saw each other, we rarely went past hugging and kissing. Every time I initiated anything more, he would sigh. “I’ve been working so hard, I’m just exhausted. Can we wait until I’ve rested up?” But before he was ever “rested up,” he was already gone again. The plane was preparing for takeoff. Chloe kissed the camera and ended the video call. At that exact moment, Arthur sent me a text: [Why doesn’t my wife believe me anymore? Are you sad that I have to work overtime and can’t be with you for New Year’s? [When I get home after the holidays, I’ll take you to that hot pot place you love, okay?] The plane took off. A flight attendant walked up to Chloe’s new seat carrying a black, gold-stamped gift box. “Ms. Sterling, a gentleman asked us to bring this to you.” “Oh my god! The Prada necklace! How did he know I’ve been eyeing this?!” The flight attendant smiled and handed her a card. “Mr. Vance also asked us to pass along a message: “He hopes Ms. Sterling won’t let the background noise bother her. Be brave, be yourself, and ignore all obstacles. “Because Mr. Vance will always stand behind you, and he will always love you.” I looked down at the text Arthur had just sent me, and closed my eyes. “Ms. Hayes, Mr. Vance asked us to give this diamond to you.” The purser handed me a loose diamond. I frowned. “For me?”