Author: Momo Chan

Steve was the imposter. After the true heir’s return, he was cast out, left destitute and disgraced. It was then that he and I began our clandestine affair. I, touched by his plight, offered him considerable care and support. Who would have thought that as soon as he found his footing in Port Royale, he would sever ties with me, clinging instead to the wealthy heiress? “It’s over, Eleanor. You’re older than me, and your career is stagnant. Let’s just call it quits and part ways amicably.” I had no objections, a sigh of relief escaping my lips. After all, just yesterday, the Patton family had inquired if I would consider an alliance with their true heir. At the time, I’d been racking my brain for a graceful way to dump Steve. 1. Faced with such a convenient breakup, I certainly wouldn’t refuse. My gaze lingered for a moment on Steve’s tightly clenched jawline before shifting to the dainty girl beside him. “Thank you, Eleanor, for all these years of looking after Steve… I hope my sudden visit isn’t too much of an intrusion.” The hand holding my wine glass slowly lowered to rest beside my right thigh. The girl opposite me looked very young, with platinum blonde hair, clutching a designer cloud bag. “Not at all. A few of us ladies were just having dinner together. Feel free to join us.” I offered the polite response without a flicker of emotion. My friend beside me, however, couldn’t sit still. She leaned in and whispered, “What are you doing, Eleanor? She just stole your boyfriend, and you’re being nice to her?” I simply smiled, giving her a reassuring yet indifferent look. Then, the girl’s voice drifted over again. “Oh, that won’t be necessary. My main reason for coming was to explain to you, miss. You might not know Steve’s background, but he was originally the eldest son of the Patton family. Something happened, and he was cast out, forced to associate with… well, with descendants of nouveau riche families like yours.” “So…?” “So, Steve choosing me means he’s returning to his rightful place. I hope you don’t think he’s betrayed you, and please, don’t try to cling to him.” A strange, awkward tension filled the air. A few people almost snorted with laughter. Only after I cleared my throat did silence return. I placed my wine glass on the table and addressed the girl. “Whether he betrayed me or not, I can distinguish. Also, what’s your name?” “Me? Oh… it’s fine if you know. It’s Iris Vance.” At her reply, the scorn in my eyes deepened. So, it was the Vance family. Last month, her father had hosted a dinner, inviting my mother and me, hoping to secure the Azure City project in the Northern District. A dog begging for scraps from our family, yet so eager to strut and preen in public. “Alright, I understand. If there’s nothing else to say, then please leave.” With my dismissal, Iris snorted, picked up her bag, and strode out of the private room, her high heels clicking. Steve, dressed in a grey shirt, followed behind her. He hadn’t uttered a single word, as if still grappling with my casual acceptance of the breakup and his betrayal. I gazed at that face, a face I’d found so incredibly appealing, and offered a final, knowing smile. 2. “Eleanor, what’s going on? You’re really just going to let that slide?” My friends huddled around me, buzzing with gossip. “That’s just the younger Miss Vance, recently back from abroad. Her family hasn’t really made any headway over the years, but she certainly puts on airs.” “Eleanor, you’re just too modest. If they truly knew who you were, they wouldn’t have dared to utter a peep…” I stared at the deep red liquid shimmering in my wine glass, a faint smile playing on my lips. I shook my head nonchalantly. “You all know Steve and I were just a casual fling. If they knew too much, it would be harder for me to disengage.” So, in Steve’s eyes all these years, my friends and I were merely idle descendants of parvenus. And he, the supposed false heir of a prominent family, was scorned by the entire social circle after being repeatedly ousted from the Patton family for his jealousy of the true heir, Evan Patton. I hadn’t even known of his existence until a particular night. It was at a cocktail party, and I’d noticed him being ridiculed by those trying to curry favor. That day, he wore a custom-tailored suit that was still somewhat presentable, but his cool brown hair was drenched in spilled wine. Distinguished men and women, dressed in opulent attire, stood before him, their mocking voices drifting to the next booth: “Steve, why don’t you just become a male model? Even if your background is utterly lowly, that face of yours is passable. Maybe some wealthy older woman with specific tastes would take you on…” “Hahahaha, seriously, I think Steve appeals more to men. How about going out with some guys? Steve, if you’re desperate for cash, I can introduce you right now!” As the words fell, the slightly overweight man with glasses reached for his wine glass, poised to douse him again. “Enough.” I happened to be in a bad mood that day, finding their clamor too irritating. I turned and called out softly to their table. My gaze then drifted down to Steve’s almost perfect profile, a flicker of admiration in my eyes. “Who are you?!” the slightly chubby man asked, clearly annoyed at the interruption. I averted my gaze. Walking over, I bent down and gently took Steve’s hand, intending to lead him away. He was so thin then, like a delicate puppet devoid of a soul. “Did I say you could leave?” Many people crowded around. The Thorne family had kept an extremely low profile in Port Royale over the years. Many knew the Thornes were a deeply established noble family, yet few had ever seen the Thorne heiress. So, naturally, they didn’t recognize me. I glanced at the few people in front, sighing. “Alright, speak. What will it take for me to take him away?” “Oh, you’re an unfamiliar face, miss. Quite the act.” The young woman next to the slightly chubby man giggled. “How about this, Mr. Davies? Let her pay our tab, then we’ll let them go.” Mr. Davies wore a sinister smile. He then called over a familiar face from the bar. The middle-aged man turned to me. “Beautiful, come settle the bill here.” In the end, under the incredulous stares of everyone present, I paid five hundred and ten thousand dollars to take Steve away. From then on, we knew each other, though he only knew the fabricated identity of a nouveau riche single daughter that I’d spun for him. I knew his reputation was poor—arrogant, materialistic, and cold-blooded. After the Patton family found their true heir, he had repeatedly caused trouble for him. Yes, Steve was truly despicable, but I couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome, his physique perfectly to my taste. The first time I saw him, pale and fragile, his hair wet with wine, I was momentarily lost in his exquisite brokenness. So, I offered him a hundred thousand a month to be my kept man. This illicit arrangement, mutually beneficial, brought me two years of enjoyment. He was mostly compliant, and I covertly supported his career without his knowledge. However, last week, my mother informed me that the Patton family wished to arrange a marriage with me. My heart gave a sudden jolt. The proposed groom, of course, was not Steve, the imposter, but Evan Patton, the true heir. My thoughts drifted back to the private room. Facing my friends’ questions, I let out a soft sigh of relief and confessed. “I originally arranged this gathering hoping you’d help me find an excuse to break up with Steve. But it seems I don’t need to anymore.” “Oh, what a coincidence! Just as Steve and Iris got together…” “Yes.” “Eleanor, that’s great! With your kind of arrangement with Steve, if you had initiated the breakup, he would have demanded a huge severance package…” My friend was right. With Steve and my financial relationship, a breakup would undoubtedly cost me. I had already mentally prepared to give him the limited edition supercar and the riverside penthouse he’d coveted for so long. His infidelity, however, saved me a hefty sum. “But Eleanor, why did you suddenly want to break up? Wasn’t Steve exactly your type?” I pondered for a moment, deciding a small disclosure wouldn’t hurt. “Because I’m getting married.” “What?! Whose family? From Port Royale, or out of town?” I didn’t elaborate, merely stating, “You’ll all know soon enough.” 3. Despite the impending engagement to Evan Patton, the true heir, I hadn’t even met him yet. On my way to meet him, I happened upon my mother having afternoon tea on the ground floor. “How is Evan?” I asked. My mother set down her teacup and slowly looked up at me. “Don’t worry. He’s no less impressive than your previous acquaintance.” Her words sent a chill down my spine. Sure enough, my little secrets hadn’t escaped my mother’s notice. Fortunately, I had been diligent in my work all these years, so she had always pretended not to know. 4. We arranged to meet at an upscale French restaurant. At this hour, it wasn’t crowded. When I arrived precisely on time and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, my date was already seated there, gazing out, lost in thought. “Hello, Mr. Patton?” He turned. His deep-set eyes held a serene, distant quality, and his amber pupils reflected my somewhat hesitant smile. In the past two years, I had heard rumors about this true heir. They said Evan Patton was exceptionally intelligent, possessing unique insights into emerging trends, and had quickly taken over most of the Patton family’s businesses. However, he was also described as eccentric and aloof, perhaps scarred by his childhood experiences. It was strange, but he did bear a slight resemblance to Steve, though Steve’s refinement was born of lavish indulgence, while Evan’s was an almost ethereal elegance. “Yes. Miss Thorne, please have a seat.” His voice was both magnetic and clear, much like the overall impression he gave me – contradictory yet mysterious. We chatted for a long time, from adolescent anecdotes to travel experiences. It was then I learned that Evan hadn’t lived a difficult life before being recognized by the Patton family. He had always been raised in an intellectual household, with both parents as university professors at renowned institutions. At this point in the conversation, I didn’t inquire why he chose to return to the Patton family. Yet, sensing my hesitation, he abruptly changed the subject. “Miss Thorne, both our parents have agreed to this alliance, but you understand that, in essence…” “It’s an exchange and merger of interests. We probably don’t have the power to refuse.” I sat there, stunned. A sliver of sunset from the window fell near my eyes, but I didn’t look at it. I calmly replied, “And then what?” “So, my lawyer will contact yours to discuss the prenuptial agreement. And the division of assets under various circumstances after marriage, especially…” “What?” His amber eyes held a searching quality, a look I had seen many times at negotiation tables. It no longer surprised me. Sure enough, in the next second, he laid out his terms. “Miss Thorne, since we’re speaking frankly, I won’t hide it. I already know about your previous relationship with Steve.” I raised an eyebrow. If he had bothered to investigate Steve’s whereabouts over the past two years, he would have easily found out. So, I wasn’t surprised. “But that was your personal life before marriage, no right or wrong there. However, I need to secure my marriage. If either of us commits infidelity after marriage, they automatically forfeit all marital assets.” At his words, I smoothed my curled hair beside my ear, my expression now completely devoid of warmth. The day I was born into the Thorne family, I severed ties with any notion of innocence. I knew my marriage would inevitably be a tool, but I hadn’t expected everything to be laid bare. After all, leaving some room for pretense, my so-called husband and I could occasionally enjoy the illusion of intimacy. But clearly, the man before me didn’t think that way. His words even carried a hint of judgment about my private life. “Before we’re even married, you’re telling me you have no trust in me, Mr. Patton?” “Trust is too ephemeral a word. I prefer it in black and white.” My last hint of a smile vanished. “Fine. I agree.” With that, I picked up my bag, ready to leave the restaurant. There seemed no point in further small talk. But at that moment, the man spoke. “On the day of the engagement, I plan to invite my… formerly wayward brother. You don’t mind, do you, Eleanor Thorne?” He was, of course, referring to Steve. I figured the man was probably busy buttering up the Vance family at that moment. “As you wish.” My gaze returned, my voice cold. 5. The entire drive home, I was distracted. It wasn’t until I pulled into our family garage that the chill in the air brought my thoughts back. Going upstairs, I found Mother still on the sofa, engrossed in some documents. Seeing me return, she cast a fleeting glance. “The Patton family has sent over the detailed prenuptial agreement. You should take a look too.” I let out a dull sigh. “You just look at it.” Mother’s hand, holding the folder, paused. “What’s wrong? Come sit here.” I never defied Mother’s commands. After two seconds of hesitation, I walked over to sit beside her. Beneath the prenuptial agreement, there was also a collaboration proposal concerning an AI model in the information technology sector. “I’ve generally reviewed it; no issues. You go through it too.” I nodded, lowering my gaze to read. The moment I closed the folder, I couldn’t help but look despondently at the elegantly dressed woman beside me. She was actually very well-preserved, with few wrinkles at fifty, looking closer to her thirties. “Mom,” I began, “do I truly not even have a moment’s reprieve?” That post-nuptial agreement, just one clause, stipulated that my marriage to Evan Patton would be devoid of emotion, allowing for no buffer. Yet, many marriages in our circle, even without emotion, allowed for separate lives. This felt like a declaration that I was entering a cold, freedomless tomb. “Eleanor, you’ve had your fun all these years. It’s enough.” “But… never mind.” The words caught in my throat. I had wanted to ask Mother, even if I knew I had no choice, couldn’t she avoid stripping away reality so starkly and repeatedly declaring that my future would be bleak? But if I had asked, I knew I wouldn’t be understood. Mother would only find me naive and foolish. “This alliance with the Patton family is because times are changing too rapidly. Our Thorne family, though having significant influence in traditional industries, hasn’t fully entered the new sectors, and most of that in Port Royale is controlled by the Pattons.” “Eleanor, you must understand the purpose of this alliance: either to gain resources from the Patton’s information technology sector, or to leverage your identity as Mrs. Patton during the marriage to develop the Thorne family’s own segment. As for other matters, like that infidelity clause…” A flicker of disdain and coldness crossed Mother’s eyes. “It might seem like a question of your character, but who’s to say it isn’t…” “Them shooting themselves in the foot.” Mother patted my hand reassuringly, then thoughtfully rose and returned to her bedroom. On the empty floor, I stared at my toes, unable to collect myself. Mother’s words brought back Evan Patton’s moralizing demeanor. What was he so proud of? What did he mean by pretending to be a superior being to control me? Did he have no emotions? Could he guarantee he’d never slip up? Taking a deep breath, a faint competitive urge stirred within me. I stopped dwelling on what this alliance would bring me. The Thorne family was both my refuge and my honor. Now, it was my duty to do what was necessary for them.

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For a year, I endured the bullying of the school’s alpha, Lucas Rothwell. When my head was viciously held underwater in the grimy sink, his face would twist into a mask of savage satisfaction. I never understood why he targeted me. Until that day, when in my struggle, I tore the chain of his cherished pocket watch. The photo inside—a picture of my mother and him—revealed the truth. He was my older half-brother. The son my mother had, in her deepest disappointment, given up. He bullied me because he hated me. That night, returning home, I no longer hid my bruises. When my mother asked, her voice laced with concern, I burst into tears. “Mom, someone at school is bullying me. Will you stand up for me?” 1. Ding-a-ling— The sound of the dismissal bell sent a shiver through my body. The moment my teacher left the classroom, I snatched my backpack and bolted. But I was caught at the bottom of the academic building. A few slacker guys saw me, their eyes lighting up. “Lucas was right! The little wretch was trying to run!” I was trembling all over, instinctively turning to escape. But as I spun, a strong hand grabbed my collar. I caught a faint scent of cigarette smoke from him… It was Lucas. The ringleader of the year-long torment I’d endured. This is it, a wave of despair washed over me. Soon, I was dragged between them, up to the top floor. This floor had no classrooms, only an abandoned restroom. This was their “sanctuary,” where they terrorized me with impunity. I never understood why, out of so many students, Lucas had singled me out. This secondary school had both a middle school and a high school section. I was just starting seventh grade, while he was already a junior. I couldn’t fathom why someone as ordinary as me could evoke such intense hatred in him. From the very first day I enrolled, he had appeared in my line of sight. He just stood there, outside my classroom, watching me with eyes like a viper, fixed on its delectable prey… When he bullied me, his face would sometimes contort into a grimace of twisted pleasure. Bang— I was shoved violently into the restroom. My body slammed against the dilapidated door, my arm aching. “Didn’t we tell you to come up here on your own after school?” A boy raised his hand and slapped the back of my head. “What the hell are you running for?” Seeing my silence, he slapped my face again. These were Lucas’s hangers-on, his “enforcers.” I clenched my fists, struggling to speak. “Today is my mom’s birthday. I want to go home and celebrate with her.” I was so terrified that I didn’t notice Lucas, who had been leaning against the wall with an impassive face, suddenly darken at my words. He strode over quickly, roughly pushing aside the boy in front of me. Lucas was tall and strong. He grabbed my collar, forcing me to stand on tiptoes to look at him. “What do you think you are…?” Lucas gritted his teeth, his eyes twitching slightly, his breathing unsteady, as if he was struggling to contain something. Before I could grasp the reason for his sudden outburst, he hauled me to the sink. The water in the basin was filthy and foul, probably unchanged for centuries. Lucas, without the slightest hesitation, slammed my head into the water. A suffocating sensation overwhelmed me, and I thrashed wildly. I had a terrifying feeling Lucas truly wanted to kill me… Why? My hands flailed incessantly, trying to grasp anything I could. In my struggle, my hand caught on Lucas’s clothes, my fingers snagging the chain around his neck. “You little bitch! Let go!” Someone pulled my hands away, but the chain snapped, too. The metallic clink echoed as it hit the ground. Lucas seemed to snap out of a trance, abruptly letting go. Exhausted, I collapsed to the floor, gasping for fresh air. When I came to my senses, I saw Lucas, uncharacteristically, scrambling on the ground, searching for something. His expression was panicked, his hands even trembling slightly. “Where is it? Where is it?!” he roared. “Find it for me, damn it!” His stunned cronies quickly snapped to attention and began searching on the floor. Watching their unusual behavior, my fingers curled slightly, accidentally brushing against something. I glanced down. It was a delicate pocket watch, broken open. Inside, was an old, somewhat blurry photograph. But my pupils dilated in shock, because I recognized the person in the picture. My mom… Before I could get a closer look, Lucas snatched the watch. He held it carefully, rubbing it repeatedly with his designer clothes, treating it like a precious treasure. “It’s broken, the watch is broken,” he mumbled, almost obsessively, then turned and quickly walked out. “Lucas,” a boy asked uncertainly, “what about this wretch?” “Whatever!” Lucas was fixated on the watch. “I need to get this watch fixed. Don’t bother me unless it’s urgent!” 2. Thanks to that pocket watch, I had a rare chance to go home early today. A cold wind blew on the way home. My clothes were already half-wet, and now the chill felt biting. But I barely noticed it, my mind a chaotic mess. The moment I closed my eyes, I could see that photo in the pocket watch again. The gentle, beautiful woman was my mother, in her younger days. So, who was the little boy she was holding? Was it Lucas? What was their relationship? I’d always known my mom had been divorced once before and had another child. I was the child she had with my father after their remarriage. My parents had never hidden this from me. But I couldn’t connect Lucas with my mother’s previous child… But if Lucas really was my older half-brother, then all my questions finally had answers. Why he targeted me, bullied me… Because he was abandoned by our mother, so he hated me. Why did he threaten me after bullying me, telling me not to tell anyone at home? He also said his family was powerful and could easily shut down my mother’s flower shop… Because he was afraid. Afraid I would tell Mom. He was afraid Mom would find out he was bullying me! The more I thought, the more startled I became, my heart thumping uncontrollably fast. I started to run, the cold wind sharpening my thoughts. I had to ask Mom to confirm! What was usually a twenty-minute walk, I ran in ten. My mom looked surprised when I returned. “Home so early today?” Every day, Lucas bullied me, and to keep my mom from worrying, I’d lied, saying I was studying late at school. To prevent her from noticing anything, I always pulled down my long sleeves to hide the bruises on my arms before coming home. Mom, wearing an apron, came out of the kitchen and smiled at me. “Go wash your hands quickly, dinner will be ready soon.” Her gaze lingered on my hair for a moment. “Why are your hair and clothes a bit wet?” “I… an old lady spilled water on the sidewalk and accidentally splashed me.” “Then go take a bath quickly, don’t catch a cold.” I nodded, dropped my backpack, and went to my bedroom to get a change of clothes for a shower. When I came out, Mom had already finished dinner. Dad was away on a business trip and wouldn’t be home for a while. I sat at the dining table, looking at my mom’s gentle face, and hesitated before speaking. “Mom, I have a question for you.” Mom placed a chicken leg in my bowl. “Eat while it’s hot. What’s the question?” I deliberated for a moment, then asked, “Mom, do I have an older brother? What’s his name?” Mom’s hand, holding her chopsticks, paused, and the smile on her face stiffened slightly. “Why are you suddenly asking that?” “Just… a little curious.” Mom remained silent for a long time, barely eating any of her meal. I suddenly regretted it. I shouldn’t have asked, Mom suddenly looked so unhappy. But after dinner, Mom called me into her room. She handed me a photograph. “His name is Lucas Rothwell. He’s my first child.” I took the photo, my hands trembling slightly. This photo was identical to the one in Lucas’s pocket watch. 3. Eleanor Hayes hadn’t thought about that child in a long time. After all, she had long since acted as if she had never given birth to him. If her daughter hadn’t brought it up today, she might not have recalled him for a long time, nor would she have thought about her first failed marriage. She should have cut her losses when her husband started staying out all night. But her repeated concessions allowed that man to test her boundaries again and again. He began to smell of other women’s perfume. He would brazenly take his lovers on trips, claiming to be away on business. Eleanor was heartbroken. She believed that even if her husband betrayed her, the son she had given half her life to bear would always be on her side. But she was wrong. Despite showering Lucas with boundless patience and tenderness, giving him all the love she could, Lucas ultimately disappointed her. She heard little Lucas holding that woman’s hand and calling her “Mom.” He said his mother was messy and annoying, always nagging him, and that he wished he had a pretty, gentle lady for a mom instead. From that moment, Eleanor understood: Lucas was just like his father, an ungrateful wretch through and through. She was utterly disillusioned with this family. During the divorce proceedings, Eleanor relinquished custody of Lucas, striving to secure the best possible settlement for herself. She even remembered the reactions of the man and the little boy when she moved out of the Rothwell home. The older one was relieved. The younger one was ecstatic. “Yes! I can get a new mom! This is great!” Each cheer was like a thorn, piercing Eleanor’s heart. And like a knife, it severed the last shred of attachment she felt for that son. 4. After listening to Mom, I gently placed the photo on the table. “Mom.” I tugged at her hand. When she looked over, I slowly rolled up my sleeve, revealing the large and small bruises on my arm. “What is this?!” Mom grabbed my hand, her voice changing. “Did someone hit you?” I swallowed my tears and nodded slowly. “Mom, someone at school is bullying me. Can you come to school tomorrow and stand up for me?” … The next morning, when I arrived at school, my desk partner silently moved her desk away from mine. My own desk was overturned on the floor, its contents spilled out, covered in dirty footprints. I quietly righted my desk and glanced around. My classmates pointedly avoided my gaze. They were isolating me. Or perhaps, they were afraid of being associated with me and facing Lucas’s retaliation. During the break after the first period, a classmate I was fairly close with finally couldn’t hold back and followed me to the restroom. “Chloe Thorne, how did you get Lucas Rothwell so angry?” “I heard you broke his favorite possession, is that true?” “Is he just looking for an excuse to bully you?” My silence was taken as an affirmation. “That’s terrible!” At fourteen, the age of bursting righteousness, she frowned. “Why don’t you go to the teachers?” I paused. Teachers? Why hadn’t I? Either they would dismiss it as typical childish squabbling, vaguely pacifying me before sending me away. Or, upon hearing that Lucas was the aggressor, the teachers would pass the buck like a hot potato. After all, our school had an entire laboratory building sponsored by the Rothwell family. Anything involving Lucas was a hot potato to them. No one was willing to deal with it. Or rather, no one dared to. In the evening, after school, Lucas and his cronies cornered me again. His face was dark, and he seemed to be in a very bad mood. I noticed he wasn’t wearing anything around his neck. Had the pocket watch not been repaired? So, was he here to punish me today? My righteous classmate was, after all, still a child. Faced with boys several years older than us, she too felt afraid. She stood at the corner of the hallway, watching me being led upstairs. She hesitated for a long time but ultimately didn’t take a step. She squatted there, frustrated, running her hands through her hair. Suddenly, a pair of high heels appeared before her. She looked up. It was a beautiful, gentle lady. “Hello, student. Are you in class 7B? Have you seen my Chloe Thorne? I’m here to pick her up.” 5. Lucas pushed me into the abandoned restroom. I tripped over a broken mop handle near the door and fell directly to the ground. My face scraped against some stacked tiles in the corner of the restroom, and a sharp sting immediately flared. I propped myself up, feeling a warm trickle on my face. My hands trembled, afraid to touch it. Lucas’s reaction, however, was even more intense than mine. He knelt down, looking at my face, visibly panicked. “You cut your face…” He had always avoided my face when he bullied me. “You know what to say when you get home, right? Huh?” Lucas gripped my shoulders tightly, his voice laced with urgency. “Speak!” “You can only say you fell! Do you hear me?!” I ignored his sudden outburst. I just stared blankly, looking towards the door. Because of this unexpected incident, Lucas’s hangers-on were all crowded at the doorway, peering in. None of them had noticed when another person had appeared outside the door. I looked at my mother, who was so shocked she hadn’t spoken for a long time, and called out in a trembling voice. “Mom, it hurts…” “Chloe!!” I never thought someone as slender as my mother could unleash such powerful force. She pushed aside the boys blocking her path, rushing straight in, and pulled me into her embrace. “Mommy’s here! Don’t be scared, Chloe! Mommy’s here to stand up for you.” She carefully checked the wound on my face, her eyes red. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I should have come earlier.” She had planned to come earlier that morning, but I had stopped her. It was the grand opening of her flower shop branch today, a very important event. So, I had only asked her to pick me up after school that evening… I huddled in Mom’s arms, looking at Lucas, who was now utterly stunned. Mom also snapped out of her shock. She angrily turned, her gaze fixed on Lucas. The moment their eyes met, Lucas almost frantically looked away. Mom, too, unconsciously frowned. She found the despicable teenager before her somewhat familiar. Lucas felt incredibly tormented under her scrutinizing gaze. He turned, about to leave, but Mom stood up and grabbed his shirt. “Where do you think you’re going?! My daughter is beaten up like this, and you just think you can walk away?” … Lucas looked at the woman before him, his mother, who seemed almost unchanged from his memories. He parted his lips slightly, wanting to say something, but ultimately, no words came out. In his memory, his mother had once stood up for him with such fierce determination. He was small then, only five years old. Mom had taken him to the playground, and he was pushed down by an older child. Mom picked him up, patiently comforting him. Then, she marched angrily to confront the child and their parents. He clung to his mother’s neck, his frightened soul finding solace in that moment. He felt Mom was like a brave warrior. She seemed invulnerable and would never let him get hurt. But in the end, the person who hurt Mom the most was himself. He was swayed by the beautiful woman who often took him out to play. She told him that his mother, who fiercely fought for his interests, wasn’t gentle or elegant, and would embarrass him. She said his mother, who only knew how to bathe and cook at home, was incompetent and useless. The beautiful woman also said that a mother who truly cared for him wouldn’t hit or scold him, but would give him lots of candy and fulfill all his childish wishes. Little Lucas believed her. He thought that this beautiful woman, right before him, was the best mother in the world. He didn’t understand anything back then. So, he didn’t understand why Mom looked so disappointed and sad when she left that house. He also didn’t understand why the beautiful woman completely changed once she became his mother. He thought his mom would come back. But it was only now that Lucas finally realized. His mother wasn’t coming back. His mother had another child. His mother was even standing in front of him, and she didn’t recognize him.

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We plunged into a Cursed-tier instance, a death trap, the system blaring warnings: “All player survival rates immediately reduced to zero!” My teammates shrieked, scattering in terror as malevolent spirits hunted them down. Only I found myself cornered by the unspeakable instance BOSS. Icy tentacles coiled around my ankles, and in my ears, the system’s alarms went haywire, glitching and breaking: [Warning! BOSS detected with abnormal emotional fluctuations! Warning! BOSS is… attempting to court the player?!] My blood ran cold. So, I looked at the creature before me, reeking of blood. Trembling… I kissed him. 1. The moment my eyes opened, a bone-chilling cold crawled up my spine. Even though I was wrapped up like a mummy, that icy dread pierced my bones like needles. My name is Elara Zahn, a frail individual suffering from “hyperalgesia” and “extreme cold sensitivity.” In this deadly infinite game, players with an F-rating for physical fitness like me are usually labeled “disposable consumables.” “Rookie?” a gruff voice boomed beside me. “Stop playing dead. Get up and work.” The speaker was a man with a scarred face, known as Randal. He was a veteran player, holding a blood-stained machete, looking at me as if I were already dead. This was a Chinese horror instance called Spirit Wedding. White lanterns hung everywhere in the courtyard, and crimson wedding characters adorned a coffin. The wind scattered paper money through the air. The system’s task was simple: survive three days as a guest and attend the final wedding. “This instance is a B-rank difficulty. You’ll live as long as you don’t do anything stupid.” Randal pointed to the tightly shut East Wing in the distance. “But someone has to scout ahead. Hey, you, the sickly one. You go.” I coughed twice, my face pale. “That’s forbidden territory.” The rules clearly stated the East Wing was the bridal chamber, off-limits to guests. Randal sneered, abruptly shoving me. “Just go when I tell you! In this team, a useless person needs to know their place. Either you go scout, or I’ll cut you down right now.” I stumbled a few steps, pushing open the rickety wooden door of the East Wing. Behind me, Randal and the other players jeered. Then, with a bang, the door locked itself behind me. 2. Inside, there was no musty smell as I’d expected. Instead, a strong scent of blood permeated the air. A grand, intricately carved bed stood in the center, its red canopy hanging low. Before I could even observe my surroundings, my heart clenched. Cold. Ten times colder than outside. My constitution made me extremely sensitive to temperature. This cold wasn’t just a drop in temperature; it was the precursor to a terrifying presence. My health bar began to deplete at a visible rate. [Health -10… -10…] If I didn’t find a heat source soon, I’d freeze to death before any ghost could kill me. “Creak—” The red canopy by the bed suddenly swayed open. A tall figure stood there, unnoticed until now. He was dressed in an elaborate, dark red wedding robe, wearing a grotesque bronze mask that left his pale jaw exposed. It was the BOSS. The Ghost Groom had appeared early, before the wedding night. The powerful sense of oppression made my knees weak, but I didn’t kneel. My instinct for survival made me stare intently at him. In my vision, he wasn’t a vengeful spirit claiming lives, but the only “heat source” in this ice-cold room. He raised his hand, his sharp, black fingernails pointing directly at my heart. Too fast. I couldn’t dodge. 3. A death trap. The instant his fingertips brushed the fabric over my chest, the cold nearly froze my blood. Perhaps I was insane. In the second before death arrived, instead of retreating, I threw myself forward with all my might. “Thud.” The sound of claws tearing skin didn’t come. I collided with a hard, cold embrace. Although cold, it was a surging power. The Ghost Groom seemed not to have expected my embrace, his movements stiffening for a moment. In that instant, I seized my chance. My hands trembling, I clung to his shoulders, tilting my head back. Along the lower edge of his cold bronze mask, I accurately found his lips. The moment my lips met his, it was like kissing a millennia-old block of ice. But I felt it. That violent, malevolent energy that had been poised to tear me apart suddenly halted. “Save me…” My voice, pressed against his lips, was as soft as a cat’s mew, laced with the tremulousness born of pain. “So cold…” This was a gamble. My unique constitution: a “divine lure.” In the real world, even stray dogs would inexplicably follow me home. If this ability worked on monsters, too… The system panel flashed wildly with red light. [Warning! BOSS logic detected as confused!] [Warning! Hatred value judgment failed…] [Warning! Affection system forcibly initiated…] 4. Time seemed to stand still. My waist suddenly tightened. It wasn’t a human arm, but something slick and tough, like a shadow. It squeezed my waist relentlessly, with such force it felt like he was trying to meld me into his own body. Pain. But I endured. I even softened my body obediently, burying my face in the crook of his neck. A sigh of satisfaction echoed above my head. It was the pleasure of a beast before a meal. “Found you…” a hoarse, low voice rumbled. The next second, the world spun. I was thrown onto the soft, grand bed. But the anticipated tearing and biting didn’t happen. Instead, a black mist gently enveloped me. The biting cold disappeared, replaced by a warm, cozy comfort. After an unknown period, the door opened. I adjusted my disheveled collar and pushed the door open to step out. Outside, Randal was leading his group, ready to collect my body and loot me. Seeing me emerge perfectly intact, he dropped the cigarette he was holding, startled. “You… you’re not dead?” Randal’s eyes widened, as if he’d seen a ghost. I ignored him, simply opening my palm. There lay a blood-red jade pendant, engraved with an ancient character for malevolence. The Ghost Groom had slipped it to me just now. Or rather, it was his “mark” left on me. 5. After emerging from the East Wing, the instance took a strange turn. The wandering spirits and specters that had been drifting in the courtyard now, upon seeing me, all cowered terrified against the walls, trembling. Wherever I walked, a path opened up automatically, as if Moses were parting the Red Sea. My body also felt off. The back of my neck always felt chilly, as if something was constantly wrapped around it. Even when I looked in the mirror, I could only see a pale patch of skin with a red bruise, like a hickey, or some kind of totem. The coldness of the jade pendant in my palm seeped into my bones, yet I felt a strange sense of… safety? This realization sent a jolt through my stomach. I had just kissed a monster, using an almost bewitching method to survive. Even more terrifying, I had, in that moment, tasted the power of control. I was using him. What about him? Was he truly momentarily confused, or was he playing along, enjoying the willing sacrifice of his prey? This thought plunged me into an ice-cold abyss, yet I also felt a faint thrill. This was a gamble, dancing with a devil. And I, it seemed, was born to stand at the center of the dance floor. By the second night, Randal finally couldn’t sit still any longer. He stared at the jade pendant in my hand, his greed overcoming his fear. “This kid must have made a deal with a ghost!” Randal incited the other players. “He’s radiating so much sinister energy; he might already be possessed.” “According to the rules, we must guard against ghosts, but also against ‘traitors’!” The other rookie players, already terrified, echoed his sentiment. “So what do we do?” “A vote.” Randal grinned sinisterly. “The system has a hidden mechanism: if more than half of the players vote someone to be an anomaly, they can summon a ‘Ghost Catcher’ to execute them.” 6. The vote took place in the ancestral hall. Five people, four votes cast against me. “Elara, don’t blame me for being ruthless,” Randal said, holding the ballot, his face radiating self-righteousness. “For everyone to survive, you must be sacrificed.” Randal stared at the increasingly prominent red mark on my neck, an unconcealable fear deep in his eyes. He had been through too many instances; he knew that those marked by a BOSS either became puppets or attracted an even more terrifying catastrophe. He didn’t want to gamble. Randal’s voice rose, both to persuade others and himself. “Voting to eliminate you isn’t to harm someone; it’s for purification!” “For all of us to live cleanly!” See? Once malice dons the cloak of “the greater good” and “purification,” it becomes self-justifying. As the vote took effect, the temperature in the ancestral hall plummeted. A three-meter tall Ghost Catcher, with a green face and tusks, emerged, dragging a soul-chain. It was an enforcer of the rules, an invincible NPC. Randal retreated triumphantly, waiting to see my soul dragged away by the soul-chain. I stood my ground, unmoving. I even felt a little like laughing. The Ghost Catcher menacingly charged towards me, raising its soul-chain. However, just as the iron chain was about to touch me, it stopped. Its murky eyes stared intently behind me, as if seeing something utterly terrifying. Its massive body began to tremble violently. “Clang.” The soul-chain dropped to the ground. 7. “What’s going on? Move!” Randal shouted, agitated. Behind me, there was no light, but my shadow, cast by the candlelight, stretched incredibly long. The shadow writhed, rising from the ground, transforming into a massive, indescribable black mist. From within the black mist, several inky tendrils slowly extended, resting on the Ghost Catcher’s shoulders. There was no sound. The once arrogant Ghost Catcher, as if erased by an eraser, was instantly swallowed by the black mist, without even a scream. A deathly silence fell over the ancestral hall. The black mist dissipated, and no monster appeared. But I felt it. The unseen presence stood directly behind me, its cold chin resting lightly on my shoulder, as if declaring its ownership to everyone. I bent down, picked up the soul-chain from the ground, and looked at Randal, who had collapsed onto the floor. A faint flush colored my pale face from the excitement. I smiled, my voice gentle. “It seems he listens to me more than to your so-called rules.” 8. After that night, no one dared to speak to me again. I was assigned the best room to rest in. Deep into the quiet night, I lay on the bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. Because I knew, the “bill” was due. The window wasn’t closed, yet the candle in the room suddenly extinguished. In the darkness, that familiar, clammy, cold sensation once again wrapped around my ankle. It was invisible, yet tangible. Unlike its protective presence during the day, it was now filled with aggression. It was the greed to utterly consume its prey. Unseen tentacles coiled around my wrists, pinning me against the headboard. “Today… I was very obedient.” In the darkness, that hoarse voice spoke again. This time it was beside my ear, carrying a moist breath. “I helped you.” Due to my sensitive skin, even slight pressure would leave red marks. My wrists were already beginning to throb faintly. “So?” I asked softly, trying not to tremble. “I want… payment.” The words had barely left his lips when a cold sensation covered me. It wasn’t a conventional kiss; it was more like tasting. It was inspecting every inch of my skin, checking if I carried anyone else’s scent. The shivering sensation of being completely controlled by a non-human entity almost suffocated me. I knew this instance was no longer just a survival game. I had provoked a madman. A malevolent deity who treated a horror game like a dating simulation.

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1. It was the third year since I’d severed ties with my parents, and they took me to court. They demanded I pay thirty years of future alimony. They sued me not because they lacked money, but because they wanted to give their adopted son, newly entered into a law firm, a chance to make a name for himself. They knew my health was poor. Because my right kidney had been personally removed by my father, the hospital director, and given to their adopted son. They knew my reputation was in tatters. Because my mother, the lawyer, had set a trap for me to take the fall for their adopted son and go to prison. Yet they still did it. Because one had to avoid suspicion, and the other had to repay a debt. The court ultimately ordered me to immediately pay three hundred thousand dollars. Because that was all the money I had left for a life-saving procedure. Outside the courthouse, my parents held their chins high and declared: “Son, as long as you are in this world, you will never escape your parents.” I thought they were absolutely right. So when the system approached me, stating I had late-stage kidney cancer and no money for treatment, asking if I was willing to go to another world, I immediately agreed. … The first time the system appeared, I was desperately trying to save money for a kidney transplant. I hauled bricks on construction sites by day, worked all night on assembly lines, and delivered food on holidays. Though it was tough, the money accumulated quickly. So, I refused to leave. I chose this world, a world with hope, a world I cared about. But when I finally saved enough money and traveled to another city for the transplant, the police brought me to court instead. Now, the kidney source was gone, and my money was gone too. My loved ones had personally destroyed my hope. The cold wind outside the courthouse hit me, and I shivered, trembling as I asked the system: “Do your previous words still count? If my body dies, I can go to another world?” After receiving an affirmative reply, I looked around for an opportunity. Just then, a thermos pressed against my hand. “Drink some.” I didn’t respond, trying to walk past. My mother grabbed my wrist. I looked down at her pale fingers. It was strange; the embrace that once filled me with longing now only felt like a foreign object on my skin. Uncomfortable. “Let go,” I said. She didn’t, instead stepping closer. “I said, let go.” I used a little force to pull my hand free. Then I wiped the spot she had touched on her expensive cashmere coat. She froze, as if she couldn’t believe I would make such a blunt gesture. As I was about to leave, laughter drifted from nearby. I looked up to see my father laughing as he embraced my adopted brother, Arthur Stone, guiding him into a car, without a single glance at me. Arthur held the lid of a thermos. I looked down, and sure enough, Arthur’s name was engraved on the thermos itself. She was using someone else’s possession again, offering cheap concern. I slammed the thermos to the ground. Actually, when the verdict came down, I wanted to tell them: “I have kidney cancer! That three hundred thousand is my life savings!” I wanted to see if they would show any emotion. But before I could get close, the wind carried their conversation to me. “…This three hundred thousand is just right. Isn’t that the dowry Evelyn wants?” “Arthur, don’t worry, Mom and Dad will definitely help you marry Evelyn properly.” Evelyn. That name stabbed my heart like a knife. My girlfriend of ten years, being married to Arthur with my life-saving money, arranged by my parents. The words that were on the tip of my tongue, along with a metallic taste, were swallowed down fiercely. Now, I was grateful I hadn’t confronted them. How ridiculous, what kind of impulse was that? Staring at the dented thermos, my mother’s jawline tightened. “Are you done making a scene? Come home with me. You’ve been wild for three years, it’s time to settle down.” I looked at her. Once, that expression and tone would send a chill down my spine, making me immediately comply. Now, I just found it like a villain’s lines in a cheesy TV show. I even gave a soft laugh: “Mom, if you care about me so much, aren’t you afraid Arthur will get jealous? Last time you cared about my law exam, he got jealous, sped, and hit someone, and you threw me at the scene to take the blame.” “This time, what do you want me to do?” Since childhood, she had always favored Arthur countless times, simply because Arthur’s parents had died saving her. But I never expected her to send me to prison to take the blame for Arthur. She avoided my gaze, her lips moving. “Let’s not talk about the past… You know, his parents had a debt of gratitude to me…” “Come home, I’ll cook for you myself to make it up.” My eyes turned completely cold as I stared into hers: “Your cooking, I wouldn’t dare to eat.” “Last time I ate it, I lost my right kidney.” Her body swayed, and she instinctively reached out to pull me. I retreated quickly. The day I got out of prison, I was still in the dark, unaware that my own parents had drugged me and left me at the scene to take the blame. She had specially cooked, saying it was a welcome home meal. I was naive and guilty then, thinking I had finally found warmth from my family. I took the soup she offered, touched, and drank it. When I woke up, I was in the hospital, my abdomen in severe pain. My right kidney was gone. From the VIP room separated by a wall, their laughter drifted. My father kept reassuring Arthur: “Don’t worry about the legality of the kidney source. I already arranged a voluntary donation form.” “Outsiders will only be touched, saying I, the director, am selfless, willing to give up my own son’s kidney to save my adopted son.” I wanted to rush over and confront them, but the pain made me roll off the bed, curling up on the floor. My mother came from the next room, coincidentally seeing me. Her steps only faltered for a second, her gaze complex as she avoided mine. The woman before me, why was she holding onto me now? “Alan, at that time Arthur was almost… gone…” “Enough!” I was tired of that explanation. Every time they sacrificed me, it was always the same logic: “no choice,” “he’s more pitiful.” I no longer looked at her, only asking the system in my mind: “System, if I go to another world, can I have parents who truly love me?” Receiving an affirmative answer, I quickly walked towards the road outside the courthouse. My mother stepped forward, grabbing my arm. “Alan! What are you doing now?!” I shook her off forcefully, rushing without hesitation towards an approaching truck. “Alan!!” 2. I ran with all my might, closing my eyes and yearning for a new beginning. Amidst the screeching of tires, a force pulled me away. I fell into an embrace, then was firmly pressed to the ground. Opening my eyes, the truck stopped precisely where I had been moments before. I hadn’t died. Frustration simmered in my heart. My mother’s arm was wrapped around me, her hands feeling me up and down. “Alan! Are you alright?! Where are you hurt?! Speak to me!” I lay sprawled on the ground, not wanting to say a word. But she suddenly gripped my collar tightly. “Alan! What were you trying to do?!” Her voice was sharp, a mix of fear and anger. “Threatening your parents with suicide? Do you think that will drive Arthur away and get you what you want?” “I’m telling you, it’s impossible!” I looked at her flushed, agitated face and just felt weary. In her eyes, everything I did was to compete with Arthur. I was too tired to explain and tried to pry her hands off again. “Let go.” “Look at me!” She held her bleeding elbow in front of my eyes, her voice trembling. “I injured myself like this pulling you back! Don’t you feel anything?” “Alan, where is your heart?” She was resorting to emotional blackmail again. She used to love doing this. Always talking about how hard she worked for money, how difficult it was to struggle among men. I would always soften and obey, swallowing all my grieKamines, silently accepting their favoritism towards Arthur. But now, looking at her bleeding elbow, my heart was a dead calm. I even swatted her hand away with disgust. “Your blood, you’ve stained my clothes.” She froze, looking at me with a deeply hurt expression. I couldn’t help but scoff. What did she have to be hurt about? All these years, when she turned a blind eye to the harm she inflicted on me, where was her heart? Now that I was merely retaliating, why couldn’t she bear it? I pushed her away and got up, patting the collar where she had touched me. “Don’t follow me. We have no relationship.” “No relationship?!” She stumbled to her feet. “Alan! I’m your mother!” I stopped, a faint, bitter smile touching my lips. “Didn’t you publicly disown me already? What, do you forget things easily?” That was at Arthur’s kidney transplant recovery banquet. Arthur, a bit drunk, raised his glass to thank me. In his drunken ramblings, he revealed that after the accident, my mother had drugged me and left me at the scene to take the blame. I served five years in prison; a top law graduate from an elite university reduced to a convict. I completely broke down and confronted them. But she, without batting an eye, told everyone that my mental state had deteriorated after prison. In that moment, all my suppressed grieKamines and anger erupted. I overturned tables, shouting hoarsely about how she had always favored Arthur since childhood, how she had sacrificed me. Losing face in front of everyone, she pointed at me and coldly said: “Fine! Since you hate me so much, I’ll pretend I never gave birth to you!” “From now on, whether you, Alan, live or die, it has nothing to do with us!” The words of disownment were spoken by her own mouth. I looked at her, now furious, and said, word by word: “Since we’re disowned, what right do you have to care whether I live or die?” 3. With that, I turned and walked away. A long silence followed behind me, then her voice sounded again: “No matter what, you are my only son! You are a Thorne heir!” “Am I?” I sneered. Her body trembled, as if she had just realized that the nominal heir of the Thorne family was Arthur. It was she who had personally brought Arthur into her law firm, publicly confirming his identity. And I, the true heir, was merely a disgraced ex-convict. My laughter grew louder, but tears, without warning, streamed down my face. I, too, once couldn’t understand. How did the parents who held me on their laps to teach me letters, who were so proud of me, turn into strangers so fiercely protective of an outsider? After countless sleepless nights, I finally understood: one of them was a fanatic, willing to use the entire family to repay a debt of gratitude. The other was a hypocrite, willing to sacrifice everything to preserve his reputation as a director. Before gratitude and reputation, I would always come last. She pulled me into the car without a word, her head lowered. “Alan, stop making trouble. Today is Arthur and Evelyn’s wedding. Just come with Mom for now.” “After Arthur gets married, Mom will have repaid her debt, and then I’ll make it up to you properly.” I had heard such words since childhood. “When your brother’s competition is over, Mom will take you to the amusement park.” “When Arthur gets into college, Mom will definitely make it up to you properly.” Every promise was like a bubble, bursting at a touch. I tried to break free, but the kidney cancer flared up. I was too weak from the pain and was dragged into the car. The car was filled with the smell of blood. Her arm kept bleeding, and cold sweat beaded on her forehead. But she gripped my wrist tightly, afraid I would run again. “Let go.” My voice was calm and even. But she clutched tighter, her nails almost digging into my flesh. “Alan, you don’t need to compete with Arthur… haven’t you always wanted to be a lawyer? You can join my law firm.” I twitched my lips, forcing a cold, emotionless smile: “What about Arthur? Didn’t he already join your law firm?” Her grip on my hand loosened for a second: “Arthur… after all, he’s called me ‘Mom’ for so many years. The law firm… will definitely be handed over to him in the future.” She paused, then lowered her voice: “…You have a criminal record; independent practice is impossible. If you follow Arthur, work as his assistant, you can still use the firm’s resources.” “Brothers working together, that’s how the family business stays stable. You should understand that now.” I leaned against the car window, the kidney cancer pain coming in waves. But clearer than the pain was an absurd nausea. They used my kidney to save Arthur, used my future to cover Arthur’s crime. Now, they even wanted to use my life to be Arthur’s stepping stone. Dream on! I grabbed the handbrake and pulled it up sharply! “Alan! Are you crazy?!” The wheels locked instantly, and the car spun wildly, tailing out of control! Finally, with a “bang,” it slammed into the concrete barrier. Violent tremors shook my entire body; the world spun. I had deliberately not buckled my seatbelt, anticipating death. But the airbags absorbed most of the impact. After the dizziness and pain, my consciousness was still clear. I immediately reached for the car door. Outside was a stream of fast-moving traffic; there was still a chance! “Alan!!” My mother lunged at me, gripping my arm tightly. “Do you hate me that much?!” Her eyes were red-rimmed, her voice hoarse. “Hate me so much… you want to drag me with you to die?!” I shrugged indifferently, pulling at the corner of my mouth: “Hate? Not worth it. I just want to take a different path. You insisted on following, so the consequences are yours.” Instantly, the color drained from her face. But she still held me tightly, half-dragging, half-pulling me into a taxi. We arrived at the wedding venue.

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The day I decided to finally pursue Alaric Newlywed, he confessed his feelings for me. Yet, the affection meter above his head clearly read ‘0’. After we became official, he adored me beyond measure. On our sixth anniversary, he proposed publicly. Tears welling in my eyes, I was about to say yes, when a stream of comments scrolled across my vision: 【Poor secondary lead, pretending for six years with this villainess just to protect the heroine!】 【This stand-in is really into the role, LOL!】 My blood ran cold. No wonder the number hadn’t changed in six years. Simultaneously, a chilling system alert exploded in my mind: “Final stage activated. Countdown to pursuit: Ten days.” “Failure will result in your complete erasure.” I smiled, pulling my hand back from his outstretched ring, wiping away my tears. “Sorry, this game? I’m bored of it.” 1 The comments were still scrolling: 【Woah, the villainess’s eyes just changed?】 【About time she realized, the secondary lead only cares about the heroine.】 【Waiting for her to snap and go crazy—】 Snap? No. I just suddenly remembered so many little things. He never allowed me to meet anyone alone, claiming he “feared I’d make bad company.” He always gently interrupted me when I mentioned my career, saying, “I’ll take care of you, darling.” It wasn’t affection. It was a cage. I wandered back to the villa, throwing things into a suitcase mechanically. Passing his study, the comments suddenly surged: 【Look at the computer!】 【Oh no, if she sees the chat history…】 【Danger! Heroine protection mode initiated!】 A crisp notification chime echoed from the study. I pushed the door open. The screen was lit, displaying a chat window between Alaric Newlywed and the main lead, Julian Vance. The latest message was from Alaric: “She suddenly rejected the proposal. Keep Elara safe these next few days. Don’t let Rowan Archer get near her.” Julian replied quickly: “Don’t worry. It’s been tough on you all these years.” I laughed out loud. How utterly ridiculous. Because of me, two sworn rivals, now united in purpose. I scrolled up. The chat logs were like a blunt knife, slowly, deliberately slicing through my flesh. Julian: “I remember, in the original story, Rowan Archer didn’t just ruin Elara’s face, she also hired someone to disgrace her.” “It must be agonizing to share a bed with that venomous witch every night.” Alaric: “As long as Elara is safe, none of it matters.” Julian: “She seems to be falling deeper in love with you. If she finds out the truth, won’t she go even crazier?” Alaric: “She won’t find out.” “If she does, and dares to touch Elara—” “I’ll break her limbs, send her to a mental asylum, and keep her locked up for life!” The last sentence had an exclamation mark. I stared at the screen, my fingertips icy. The comments section erupted: 【”It’s all worth it”… the secondary lead is so in love! You know who I’m talking about!】 【Am I the only one who finds this conversation chilling? To manipulate someone for six years, just for the heroine?】 【Come on, that’s the villainess! He’s doing everyone a favor and protecting his true love, it’s a win-win!】 【Look at the villainess’s expression… is she about to snap?】 【Villainess, stop it and run!】 Run? I looked down at my slender wrists. Yes, I had to run. As I dragged my suitcase out, the night was in full swing. I stood by the roadside, unsure where to go. The comments were anxious for me: 【Is she really leaving?】 【Go! Don’t hold back our secondary lead and heroine’s sweet moments!】 【Wait… is that the secondary lead’s car in the distance?!】 Headlights pierced the darkness, and a familiar black sedan screeched to a halt beside me. Alaric got out, his shirt slightly rumpled, his breathing ragged, his face displaying a perfectly calibrated mix of panic and sorrow: “Rowan, I’m sorry, I was too hasty… I thought you’d be happy.” He reached out, trying to take my hand, his eyes red-rimmed. “Don’t go. Let’s talk this over, okay?” In the past, I would have melted completely. But now, I could only recall the chat log’s chilling promise: “break her limbs and lock her up.” I stepped back, avoiding his touch. “It’s not your fault,” I heard my voice, light and airy. “I’m just tired of it.” “Tired…?” His eyelashes fluttered as if he didn’t understand the word. “You don’t love me anymore?” Under the streetlamp, his features were bathed in fragmented light, his acting so convincing it could win awards. A comment drifted by: 【Honestly, not everything he did for her these years was fake, right… kinda heartbreaking.】 That comment suddenly enlightened me. I looked up, meeting his eyes directly: “Alaric Newlywed.” “These past six years, was there even a single second… when you truly felt happy?” His pupils contracted almost imperceptibly. He didn’t answer. But the comments exploded: 【!!! She knows?!】 【OMG OMG high alert—】 【Secondary lead, what are you waiting for! Lie!】 The wind was cold. I gripped my suitcase and turned, disappearing into the night. No footsteps followed. Only the countdown ticking clearly in my mind: 9 days 23 hours 59 minutes. The game wasn’t over. But the player no longer wanted to follow the rules. 2 I hailed a taxi, leaning against the window, my hands trembling. Not from fear. From exhilaration. To finally shed six years of pretense—it felt like taking a first deep breath. The countdown flickered chillingly before my eyes: 9 days 23 hours 10 minutes. Less than ten days left to live. All because of someone who would never love me. How utterly absurd. “Where to, miss?” the driver asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. I gave him the address: my favorite riverside coffee shop from way back. Alaric used to say it was “too loud, too messy.” He stopped me from going there after a while. The comments floated by: 【Where is she going? Shouldn’t she be running?】 【Alaric’s last look was terrifying…】 【Am I the only one who thinks she looks stunning in that red dress?】 Outside the window, the city lights blurred into a streak. For six years, I’d lived as if in a glass dome, seeing only the world filtered through Alaric’s lens. Now the glass was shattered. The wind poured in, bringing with it the aroma of street-side barbecue, the damp river breeze, the chatter of strangers. It was so real, it made me want to cry. The coffee shop was still in its old spot. As I pushed the door open, the wind chimes jingled. The owner, a man with a grizzled beard, stared at me for a moment. “Rowan?” “Mr. Chen, long time no see.” “It really is you!” He wiped his hands and came from behind the counter. “Must be five or six years, right? You used to love that window seat, could write a whole afternoon’s homework with one latte…” That’s when I remembered. Before I knew Alaric, I often came here to write my thesis. Back then, I was a film student, dreaming of winning an Oscar, filling script margins with annotations. What happened after that? Alaric said, “Acting is too tough, I’ll take care of you.” He said, “The entertainment industry is too chaotic for you.” He said, “Rowan, having me is enough.” And I believed him. I gave up auditions, turned down contracts, locked my dreams in a drawer, and handed him the key. “The usual?” Mr. Chen asked. “Yes.” I paused. “And a slice of Tiramisu.” I never dared to eat it before; Alaric said I’d “get fat, not look good on camera.” But now I only had ten days left. What did it matter if I got fat? The window seat was empty. I sat down, the river breeze caressing my face, the lights from the opposite bank reflecting on the water, shimmering like scattered gold. The first bite of cake—the sweet cream and bitter coffee liqueur melted on my tongue. I closed my eyes. So delicious. This was what it felt like to be alive. The comments fell silent for a moment, then slowly drifted by: 【She’s eating so seriously…】 【Why do I suddenly feel a little sad?】 【Only ten days left to live. I’d want a good meal too.】 【By the way, will Alaric really let her be this free? I doubt it.】 I doubted it too. So when my phone vibrated, displaying “Alaric Newlywed” as the caller, I wasn’t surprised. I answered, but said nothing. “Rowan, where are you?” “I’m so worried about you.” His voice carried a hint of fatigue. “Eating.” “Come home, Rowan,” he softened his tone. “We both need to cool off. I promise, I won’t bother you tonight, you can sleep in the guest room. We can talk properly tomorrow, okay?” Such a familiar tone. For six years, every time I threw a tantrum, he was like this. Gently, patiently, coaxing me back into the cage, then everything would return to normal. “Alaric Newlywed.” I looked at the river. “Do you remember my graduation project from college?” He was silent for a moment. “Why ask that all of a sudden?” “I played a woman who was imprisoned. In the end, she set the house on fire and burned herself with it.” I scooped up a bite of cake with my spoon. “You said my acting was too extreme, that no one would be that foolish in real life.” “Now I understand.” “She wasn’t foolish. She just had nothing left but that one fire.” His breathing on the other end of the line grew heavier. “What exactly are you trying to say?” “I’m saying,” I finished the last bite of cake, “for the next ten days, I’m going to live my own life.” “Don’t look for me. Don’t disturb me. Don’t threaten my family.” “After ten days, if I’m still alive…” I smiled. “Then we can play your game again.” 3 I checked into the most expensive presidential suite in the city, using the credit card Alaric had given me. The comments were still streaming: 【Presidential suite??? She really knows how to live it up.】 【Using the secondary lead’s money for a hotel, that’s smart.】 【She only has ten days left, why not splurge?】 I tossed my suitcase in the entryway and sank into a bathtub filled with rose petals. The countdown ticked in my mind: 8 days 14 hours 32 minutes. I had eight and a half days left. My phone was eerily quiet. Alaric hadn’t called again. That wasn’t like him. Late at night, I lay in the three-meter-wide bed. Sparse comments drifted by: 【Is she really sleeping? So calm.】 【What’s the secondary lead doing? Looks like he’s tracking her phone.】 【Honestly, this feeling of being watched is suffocating.】 Just as I was drifting to sleep, I heard a violent kick to the door. I shot upright. The comments instantly exploded: 【OMG what was that sound?!】 【Someone’s breaking in!!!】 【Is it the secondary lead???】 【Help, I’m so nervous.】 Before I could react, the door was violently kicked open. Alaric stood in the doorway, his eyes bloodshot, as if he’d reached his absolute limit of fury. “Rowan Archer.” His voice was hoarse as he strode in, step by step. I instinctively clutched the collar of my robe. He stopped in front of me, his shadow completely engulfing me: “Where is Elara?” I froze. “What?” “Don’t pretend.” He suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip so powerful my bones ached. “Where did you take Elara? Tell me!” “I don’t know what you’re talking about—” I tried to pull free, but his grip tightened. The comments scrolled wildly: 【What’s going on? The heroine was kidnapped?】 【The villainess kidnapped her? No way, she’s been at the hotel.】 【The timeline doesn’t add up, how would she have time to arrange a kidnapping?】 【Has the secondary lead gone crazy?】 “Alaric Newlywed, let go of me!” I gasped in pain. “I haven’t even seen Elara Thorne! I’ve been here for the past two days—” “Rowan Archer, I underestimated you.” “Playing so heartbroken, only to turn around and kidnap Elara? You truly are malicious.” “I didn’t.” I gritted my teeth. He shoved me roughly onto the bed, leaning over me, his hands braced on either side of my head: “I’ll give you one last chance. Where is Elara? What did you do to her?” His breath puffed against my face, carrying a near-mad ferocity. In six years, I had never seen Alaric like this. The comments began to diverge: 【The secondary lead is terrifying…】 【But if the villainess really did kidnap the heroine, then she deserves it, right?】 【Look closely! How would the villainess have time to commit the crime?】 【Could it be a misunderstanding?】 “I told you, I don’t know.” “Alaric Newlywed, look at me. Have I ever lied to you in these six years?” His pupils contracted. A flicker of doubt. “Elara’s phone signal vanished at the coffee shop you visited,” he looked up at me, his eyes like poisoned knives. My entire body went cold. A trap. Someone had set a trap. “It wasn’t me, I didn’t…” My voice began to tremble. “Enough!” He suddenly stood up, pulling out a folding knife. Alaric held my hand, the blade pressed against my wrist. “Rowan Archer.” His voice was terrifyingly low. “I know you hate Elara, hate her for taking me. Though I was never truly yours. But you cannot touch her.” “I’m asking you one last time! Where is Elara?!” The blade dug into the flesh of my wrist, and bright red blood instantly welled up. The excruciating pain shot through my limbs. My vision blurred, and I almost blacked out. The comments were frantic: 【The secondary lead has gone completely mad.】 【I’m starting to pity the villainess… she really looks like she doesn’t know.】 【Villainess, say something! Even if it’s a lie!】 I opened my mouth, a broken gasp escaping my throat: “I… didn’t…”

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Brad Brown, my wife Seraphina’s childhood friend, and I were on our way to a shooting competition when we got into a car accident. I woke up with my eyes bandaged. My wife, Dr. Seraphina Thorne, who was my attending physician, told me that my left eye was severely damaged and I was permanently blind. Meanwhile, Brad had won the gold medal in the shooting competition. At the celebration banquet, he slurred drunkenly: “If Seraphina hadn’t transplanted William Hayes’s cornea to me, I would have gone blind, and I would never have stood on that podium.” Seraphina hugged him tightly: “William lost one eye; I can make it up to him for the rest of my life. I just want you to be well, standing in the spotlight, where everyone can see you.” That’s when I realized my blindness wasn’t an act of fate; it was a human doing. 1 My left eye still throbbed faintly, the wound not yet healed. The conversation in the room continued. Brad raised his glass to Seraphina: “I’ve known since I was a child that I was an orphan. Seraphina and I grew up together; she’s always been so caring, giving me the very best of everything.” “I never imagined that at a crucial point in the competition, when my eye was injured, she would be so generous as to transplant William Hayes’s cornea to me.” “Seraphina, without you, my life would have no future.” Seraphina, with tears in her eyes, drank the wine in Brad’s glass and said, “Silly, who else would I help if not you?” “I was William’s attending physician. I assessed the situation at the time. If your eye hadn’t received a cornea transplant then, you wouldn’t have been able to compete.” “You trained so hard; how could I let your future be ruined?” The relatives inside all exclaimed, “You two really have such a strong bond; Seraphina is incredible to Brad.” “Exactly. But William was also on his way to a competition, wasn’t he? I can’t believe he’d be willing to donate his cornea to Brad.” “He literally gave Brad his future.” Seraphina said disdainfully, “William’s performance is far inferior to Brad’s. It’s better to fulfill Brad’s potential. See? It proves my choice was right at the time.” Outside the door, I clenched my fists, my heart feeling empty and cold, like the dead of winter. I remembered the pre-competition training camp. Brad, who had just gotten his driver’s license, insisted on driving. I disagreed. Seraphina said, “Don’t you trust Brad? I trust him; he can do anything perfectly. If you’re afraid to die, take a cab yourself. Brad, let’s go.” My wife pulled Brad into the car. I had no choice but to follow and get in. To show off in front of Seraphina, Brad sped and drifted occasionally. Finally, at a bend, he collided with a container truck. I was knocked unconscious. When I woke up, it was several days later. Seraphina, in a white lab coat, sat by my bedside. My left eye was heavily bandaged. Before I could speak, Seraphina said tenderly, “Honey, don’t rush. We were in a car accident. Both you and Brad were injured. Your left eye… you’re blind.” Seraphina hugged me, comforting me: “Honey, don’t be scared. No matter what you become, I’ll always be by your side.” At that time, although I was despondent because of my blindness, I was also comforted to have such a wonderful wife. I never imagined my blindness wasn’t caused by the car accident but by human intervention. My father-in-law’s voice in the room was booming: “William is so foolish and clumsy. His shooting scores are nowhere near Brad’s talent. I never approved when he pursued Seraphina. If Brad hadn’t been abroad back then, I would have preferred to marry my daughter to Brad.” Seraphina said shyly, “Dad, stop it.” Brad interjected, “Uncle, if you’re willing to give me a chance, I’ll treat Seraphina well. Now I have the ability to make her happy. William has lost an eye; how can he take care of Seraphina?” Seraphina cooed, “What are you saying? William and I aren’t divorced yet.” 2 Brad declared loudly in front of the guests, “I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. I will marry you and make you happy.” Amidst the cheers of the crowd, they actually embraced. Brad was an orphan, two years younger than Seraphina. When they met, Seraphina’s family treated him very well, practically raising him as a son. My father-in-law always said I was inferior to Brad, and his daughter marrying me was bad luck. But Seraphina always stopped him from expressing dissatisfaction with me, then she’d try to persuade me, “My dad treats Brad like a son. Don’t take it to heart. You’re the one I love. I only see Brad as a little brother.” However, every time something involved Brad, Seraphina always prioritized him. When we first got married, I also thought their bond was like siblings. But over time, I discovered their feelings had long surpassed that of mere siblings. Still, because I loved Seraphina, I kept hoping for one last chance to salvage our marriage. But I never imagined that in a life-or-death situation, Seraphina would abandon me, actually donating my cornea to Brad. Such a marriage was better off without. I stepped back, quietly leaving the celebration banquet at the hotel. I went to the hospital. As Seraphina’s husband, the doctors there had seen me before. I easily found the ophthalmologist who had performed our surgeries. The doctor looked at me with a sigh: “I never imagined that you two, as a couple, would go this far for Brad.” “You’re also a marksman; your eye wasn’t injured at all. Donating a cornea to Brad was completely unnecessary. Actually, his eye could have recovered in a year or two.” “But Dr. Thorne said Brad needed to participate in the competition and couldn’t wait that long. And since you were in a coma, as your wife, she had the right to sign the donation papers on your behalf.” My hand trembled, my heart sinking to rock bottom. I gritted my teeth and asked, “So, Seraphina signed the donation papers for me while I was in a coma, and donated my cornea?” The doctor nodded: “Yes. This normally requires your personal consent, but Dr. Thorne said you had woken up once, and she asked you. She claimed you strongly insisted on it yourself.” “You supposedly said your performance wasn’t as good as Brad’s and you were willing to donate your cornea to him so he could win good scores for the team.” “She was your wife; with her strong insistence, we couldn’t do anything.” “What, are you regretting it now?” I couldn’t utter another word. Ha, I strongly insisted? She took advantage of my coma, spun a web of lies to deceive everyone, and transplanted my cornea to Brad. I sat by the roadside near the hospital, my left eye throbbing faintly. My phone rang. This special ringtone was exclusively for Seraphina’s calls. “Honey, where are you? Brad’s celebration banquet is almost over, and you’re not here yet.” “Remember that watch I mentioned Brad liked? Make sure to buy it as a gift for him. You know, he’s famous now, he needs some nice accessories.” “That watch really suits his style. Remember to buy it before you come, and while you’re at it, settle the bill for our room.” Ha. I didn’t attend the celebration, and she didn’t ask if I was okay. She just demanded I buy a gift and pay the bill. That watch cost over half a million. Seraphina had seen it and declared it for Brad. In the past, I would have just bought it, following Seraphina’s words. But now, I wouldn’t pay another penny for them. I said coldly, “I can’t make it; something came up. You two pay for it yourselves.” Seraphina paused, then immediately erupted, “You’re not coming? Who’s going to pay if you don’t? Today’s celebration, the best wines were used, and all the seafood was flown in fresh. You absolutely have to pay this hundred-thousand-dollar bill.” 3 “If you can’t come, transfer the money to me.” I chuckled, “Seraphina, my eye hurts, I’m not feeling well. Besides, it’s Brad’s celebration, doesn’t he have a million-dollar prize? How can he not afford the bill, especially for such expensive dishes?” Seraphina sounded exasperated on the other end of the phone: “Brad’s prize money has other uses. He needs to buy a house! As his brother-in-law, what’s wrong with buying a watch and treating him to dinner?” “William, how did you become so petty?” Brad chimed in from the background: “Seraphina, don’t pressure William. He might be upset because I won the medal.” “If it’s really a problem, I won’t buy a house yet. I’ll pay the bill first, and forget about the watch.” “I originally thought the prize money could be a down payment for that house you liked. I was going to buy it for you, I wanted to be able to give you a home from the elements.” Seraphina was moved, her voice choked: “Silly, how can I let you pay? I said I wanted to host the celebration. I’ll pay. If William won’t, I will.” After she finished, she spoke coldly to me on the phone: “William, you hold onto your money. Don’t think everyone is like you, only caring about money.” “What do you have now besides money? Don’t forget, you lost an eye, and only I’m here by your side, not disliking you.” “I thought my sincerity would be rewarded, but I never expected you to be such a narrow-minded person.” With that, she violently hung up the phone. I immediately called the bank and froze all my supplementary cards. The reason Seraphina could consistently support Brad was that she used my supplementary cards to buy him various luxury items, shaping Brad into the image of a promising young socialite. Only outsiders didn’t know that everything he wore and used, every penny, was mine. Keep in mind that the shooting team only provided athletes with a basic monthly living allowance, which wasn’t even enough for Brad to throw a lavish dinner for his teammates. Under Seraphina’s indulgence, they squandered lavishly. They had long forgotten that everything they possessed was given by me. Not even ten minutes passed before Seraphina called again: “William, what do you mean? Why did you stop my card?” I said coldly, “I didn’t stop your card. I only stopped mine. Seraphina, the supplementary card is also my card, have you forgotten?” “Isn’t your card with you? If you want to help Brad pay, use your salary card. In the few years we’ve been married, hasn’t your salary card been untouched? Paying this hundred thousand should be easy, right?” Seraphina shrieked: “Use my salary card? I don’t have any money left! William, how did you become like this? Quibbling over a bit of money! You were injured, hospitalized for surgery, you lost an eye—who was it who stayed by your side, never abandoning you? How can you be so heartless?” I interrupted her: “Seraphina, did my eye really go blind because of the car accident?” Seraphina was silent on the phone, then said: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Your eye was severely injured in the car accident. I tried my best to get you treatment. This current state is the best option.” “You don’t be unreasonable. Unblock my card right now.” “Seraphina, there’s nothing left between us. My lawyer will contact you. Let’s get a divorce. I’ll make way for you and Brad.” With that, I hung up the phone directly. No matter how many times she called afterward, I didn’t answer. I went home, packed my bags, and moved to a hotel. Seraphina couldn’t reach me by phone, and she kept sending various messages to my cell, but I ignored them all. However, I didn’t expect her to track down my follow-up appointment time from the hospital and intercept me there. 4 She slapped a bill against my chest: “The celebration banquet bill, a total of one hundred and ten thousand. Pay me back immediately. Do you know how desperate I was to scrape together that money?” “You’re my husband; half your money is mine. How dare you deny me access?” “I never abandoned you, and this is how you treat me? Where’s your conscience?” I let the bill fall to the floor, looking at her: “I said I’m divorcing you. Did you not hear clearly? The divorce papers have already been sent to your house.” She looked at me with disdain: “Playing hard to get? Thinking that will scare me? William, don’t say things you don’t mean. You said no matter what I did, you’d never leave me.” “You’ll keep your word, won’t you?” I looked at her with extreme disappointment: “So, you do whatever you please? Seraphina, how did my eye go blind? Can you tell me?” Seraphina turned her head away: “Your eye was severely injured in the car accident and went blind.” I said softly: “Is that so? But why did I hear that my cornea was surgically removed and donated to Brad?” “And the person who signed the consent was you, Seraphina. It was you who forcibly gave my cornea to Brad. It was you who caused me to lose my sight.” “The doctor said his eye could recover. Why would you do this to me!” Seraphina suddenly became agitated: “What do you mean ‘could recover’? That would take two years! Brad couldn’t wait that long.” “He’s in his prime right now. You couldn’t win the competition anyway, so it was better to donate your cornea to him. See? The facts prove my decision was right; he won the competition.” “I promise you, you’re blind, I’ll still be by your side, I won’t leave you. I’ll make it up to you for the rest of my life.” I laughed mockingly: “Not leave me? Wouldn’t you not leave me because you need my money to support your family, to support Brad?” “Without me, where would you get the money to buy Brad all those luxury items?” Seraphina’s face turned red, and she shouted: “When did I ever use your money to buy Brad luxury items? I used my own salary!” “And, I treat Brad like my own brother. What’s wrong with buying my brother a few things?” “As his brother-in-law, shouldn’t you buy him something too?” I laughed in anger: “Seraphina, do you truly consider him a brother? You know the truth in your heart. No one would go to such lengths for a brother.” “No matter what you say, I won’t spend another dime on you and your ‘dear brother.’” With that, I turned to leave. Seraphina yelled after me, “William, who else will want you now except me? You’ll regret this.” I didn’t bother to respond to her. Before I left her, I had many things to do. The first thing I did was go to the shooting team to withdraw from training. As I left the shooting team, I ran into the media interviewing Brad. He was surrounded by reporters and various streamers chasing clicks. “What do you have to say about winning the gold medal this time?” Brad’s face was full of tenderness as he looked at Seraphina by his side: “This time, I particularly want to thank someone, my best sister, my best confidante, Seraphina.” “She’s also a doctor at Central Hospital. I was in a car accident before the competition, and she saved me. It was also her selflessness that restored my sight.” The reporters exclaimed in admiration, their microphones turned to Seraphina: “Dr. Thorne, we also heard that your husband went blind in the car accident. He’s also a marksman, isn’t he?” Seraphina’s face showed sorrow: “Yes, I’m very sad too. I’ve been by his side, accompanying him, taking care of him, hoping for his speedy recovery.” “Although his scores are much worse than Brad’s, he’s still very upset about losing the opportunity to compete. I hope everyone won’t disturb him.” A reporter asked: “Excuse me, your husband’s eye went blind in the car accident. Since Brad had the chance for a cornea transplant, Dr. Thorne, why didn’t you keep that opportunity for your husband?” Seraphina’s face turned grim. She mumbled, unsure how to answer. “Because, Brad’s cornea… is mine.”

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I can see a death countdown above everyone’s head. And my wife, Seraphina White, her death date was today. For ten years, she had maintained the pretense of being infertile. But today, she brought home a five-year-old child, along with her long-term secret lover, Alaric Sterling. She laid it all out for me, while the family elders circled, urging me to be magnanimous. “Cain, Seraphina hasn’t had it easy. A woman, you know, always wants children. Just think of it as gaining another son, there’s nothing wrong with that.” I looked at the rapidly ticking countdown above her head: [00:01:30]. I said softly, “I will not acknowledge this child of unknown origin.” Seraphina looked at me as if I were a fool she had utterly outmaneuvered. Her eyes gleamed with triumph. She smugly wrapped her arm around Alaric’s waist and announced, “Whether you acknowledge them or not, I will never abandon them, father and son. From now on, I’ll be with you during the day, and with him at night…” Countdown: [00:00:10]. I calmly stated, “In that case, let’s get a divorce.” Her eyes widened in fury, but then she clutched her chest and collapsed. The countdown hit zero. 1 The moment Seraphina collapsed, the entire White family living room fell into a dead silence. Alaric, who a second ago had a triumphant smile, now had all the color drained from his face. His scream ripped through the air. “Seraphina! Seraphina, what’s wrong! Wake up!” The five-year-old boy stood still, his face utterly bewildered, then burst into loud sobs. I stood rooted, watching the completely extinguished numbers above Seraphina’s head. There was nothing there now. She was dead. “Quick! Call an ambulance!” “It’s you! Cain Stowell! You drove her to her death!” Alaric suddenly looked up, his bloodshot eyes glaring at me. I pulled out my phone, my fingers steadily dialing for emergency services. Then, I dialed the police. “Hello, officers? My wife suddenly died. I suspect the gentleman with her is involved.” My voice was not loud, but it clearly carried to every corner of the living room. Alaric’s sobs ceased abruptly. He stared at me in disbelief, as if I were insane. “You… you’re talking nonsense! How could I harm Seraphina!” I lowered my gaze, no longer looking at him. The ambulance and patrol car arrived almost simultaneously. The emergency doctor checked her on-site, then regretfully shook his head. “Time of death approximately ten minutes ago. Preliminary diagnosis is sudden cardiac arrest.” The police began their routine: cordoning off the scene and questioning witnesses. My in-laws, Mr. and Mrs. White, rushed in upon hearing the news. My mother-in-law, seeing Seraphina on the floor, rolled her eyes and fainted, caught clumsily by my father-in-law. When she slowly came to, her first action was to charge at me, hand raised to strike. “You good-for-nothing! Did you poison her food? My daughter was perfectly fine! How could she just drop dead?” Her hand was stopped by an officer. I looked at her face, twisted with rage. The countdown above her head showed [3 years 2 months 11 days]. Not long, but enough for her to suffer. My unusual calmness became the biggest suspicion in their eyes. “Mr. Stowell, please come down to the station with us to cooperate with the investigation.” I nodded, took my phone, and followed the officers out. As I passed Alaric, he was holding the child, looking at me with a mix of venomous resentment and triumph. He thought I was finished. I glanced at the brightly lit [52 years 6 months 3 days] above his head, a faint, almost imperceptible curve on my lips. 2 The interrogation room lights were blindingly white. The officer opposite me asked routine questions, and I answered calmly. “What was your relationship with your wife like?” “Ten years of marriage, what do you think?” I retorted. “She brought her lover and illegitimate child home. How did you react?” “I didn’t want her to bring the child back.” The officer tapped the table, leaning forward, his gaze sharp. “Then why did you suggest divorce?” “Because he wanted me to share a room with them, father and son. I found it disgusting,” I said frankly. The officer fell silent, seemingly judging the veracity of my words. I added, “Seraphina White has a hereditary heart condition. She never told outsiders about it, not even her parents.” “She relied on medication to manage it, but I suspect she was too emotional today and forgot to take her medicine.” The officer immediately called to verify. I sat calmly in the chair, awaiting the results. My countdown ability had been with me since I could remember; it never made mistakes. Seraphina’s death was predetermined, and had nothing to do with me. But they wouldn’t believe it. Two hours later, the preliminary autopsy report came in. Cause of death: acute massive myocardial infarction. No toxic substances were found in the deceased’s blood or stomach contents. Combined with my testimony, and the medical records and medication found in her study safe, everything was perfectly logical. My name was cleared. As I walked out of the police station, dawn was just breaking. The White family’s car was parked at the entrance. My mother-in-law and Alaric were both there. Seeing me emerge, my mother-in-law immediately rushed towards me. “You scumbag! My daughter was perfectly healthy! How could she have a heart condition? It’s you! It must be you, you good-for-nothing, who killed her!” She was like a madwoman, held back tightly by my father-in-law. Alaric, clutching the child, was crying, his eyes bloodshot. “Mom, please don’t… Seraphina… she must have been too happy, finally having her own child… It’s all my fault. If we hadn’t come back and agitated Cain, Seraphina wouldn’t have…” His words, seemingly conciliatory, subtly shifted all blame onto me. See, what masterful manipulation. I watched their family drama unfold with cold indifference, my heart utterly unmoved. I walked up to Alaric. “Seraphina is dead. What do you plan to do with your child?” Alaric’s sobbing paused. He instinctively shielded the five-year-old boy. “This is Seraphina’s flesh and blood! Of course, I’ll protect him and make him happy!” “Oh.” I nodded. “Then good luck.” I walked past them, hailed a taxi, and drove straight away. Behind me, my mother-in-law’s curses grew sharper. I returned to the villa, which no longer felt like a home. Seraphina’s body had been taken away, but the cold scent of death still lingered in the air. I started packing; I didn’t want to stay in this place for another second. 3 Seraphina White’s funeral was exceptionally grand. Business elites, relatives, and friends—everyone came. As her husband, I stood there in a black Chanel suit, my face calm, accepting various looks of sympathy or scrutiny. Alaric also came, leading the boy named Julian White, dressed in white, weeping uncontrollably, as if he were the true Mr. White. My mother-in-law, leaning heavily on my father-in-law, shot me hateful glances throughout. During the eulogy, my mother-in-law suddenly attacked. In front of all the guests, she pointed a finger at me and cursed. “You useless man! You killed my daughter, and now you want to come and claim our White family fortune? I’m telling you, as long as I live, you won’t get a single penny!” She lunged at me, trying to tear at me, but was pulled away by a nearby relative. I stood still, not moving an inch, not even raising an eyebrow. “Mom, please calm down. Seraphina, in the afterlife, wouldn’t want to see you like this.” My address of “Mom” only stoked her fury further. “Who’s your mother! Don’t call me that! I don’t have a son-in-law as malicious as you!” Alaric chose that moment to “faint” into her arms, causing a chaotic scene. “Alaric, Alaric, what’s wrong?!” “Quick! To the hospital! He’s practically half a son to the White family now!” A solemn funeral had completely devolved into a farce of fighting over inheritance. I watched with cold eyes, finding it utterly ridiculous. After the funeral, it was time for the will reading. The White family’s exclusive lawyer, Mr. Davies, opened the file. Everyone held their breath, especially Alaric and my in-laws; they were certain Seraphina would leave her fortune to her “son.” Mr. Davies cleared his throat and began to read. “I, Seraphina White, hereby make this will… All property under my name, including but not limited to fifty-one percent of the White Group’s shares, three properties, and all bank deposits, securities…” He paused, looking at me. “Shall all be inherited solely by my legal husband, Mr. Cain Stowell.” The air was deadly silent. Everyone’s gaze focused on me—shock, confusion, anger. Alaric’s face instantly drained of color, and he swayed precariously. My mother-in-law was the first to react, letting out a shriek. “Impossible! This will is fake! How could my daughter leave all her money to this scumbag? This will must be fake!” 4 Mr. Davies calmly presented the notarized documents and date of the will. “Mrs. White, this will was drafted ten years ago and holds full legal validity. Ms. White did not execute a new will afterward.” Ten years ago. That was when we were most in love. She feared that if anything happened to her, I would be left alone, so she took me to get it notarized together. She had probably never imagined she would die so soon, without even having the chance to revise her will for her secret lover and illegitimate child. Truly, man proposes, God disposes. “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it!” My mother-in-law lunged to snatch the will, but was stopped by security. My father-in-law’s face was ashen, his eyes glaring at me. “Cain Stowell, you knew about this will all along, didn’t you?” I didn’t answer, simply stood up and adjusted my cuffs. “Mr. Davies, please expedite the property transfer procedures.” With that, I turned and walked away, no longer paying attention to the chaos behind me. What was mine, I wouldn’t give up a single cent. I underestimated their shamelessness. That same evening, as soon as I returned home, I found the digital lock had been changed. I rang the doorbell, and the housekeeper opened the door. She looked at me with a troubled expression. “Sir… the elder Mrs. and Mr. White…” I pushed past her and walked in. In the living room, my in-laws, Alaric, and the boy Julian White, sat on the sofa like they owned the place. My suitcase was thrown by the door, its contents scattered on the floor. My mother-in-law sat with one leg crossed over the other, cracking sunflower seeds, barely lifting an eyelid when she saw me. “Oh, still remembered to come back? I thought you’d run off with my daughter’s money.” I walked up to her, looking down at her. “This is my home. Why are you here?” “Your home?” My mother-in-law sounded as if she’d heard the funniest joke. “This house was bought by my daughter; her name is on the deed! She’s dead, so this belongs to the White family! What right do you, an outsider, have to live here?” Alaric spoke softly, “Cain, please let us stay. Julian and I need a place to live… Auntie also missed her grandson, that’s why she moved in.” His words reminded me. Seraphina was dead. According to inheritance law, her parents and children are first-line heirs. But in the presence of a will, the will takes precedence. This house was now mine. “Whose name is on the deed doesn’t matter. What matters is, the will states this house belongs to me.” I took out my phone, ready to call the police. My father-in-law suddenly stood up. He was an educated man, more concerned with appearances than my mother-in-law. “Cain, we’re not here to fight you for the house. It’s just that Seraphina just passed, and we’re heartbroken. We want to stay a few more days in the place where she lived, to be with her.” He played the emotional card. “And Julian is Seraphina’s only bloodline; we want to get closer to him. Don’t worry, once we’ve stabilized emotionally, we’ll move out naturally.” I looked at his “sincere” face, then at the countdown above his head: [8 years 1 month 20 days]. I smirked internally. They weren’t trying to mourn the dead; they were clearly trying to squat here, forcing me to hand over the property. I put my phone away and nodded. “Alright, in that case, you can stay.” I wanted to see what tricks they would pull. My concession, in their eyes, was weakness. The next day, I found my master bedroom had been taken. Alaric and Julian White had moved in. My clothes, my accessories, my belongings—all were thrown out, piled on the guest room floor. My mother-in-law stood with hands on her hips at the master bedroom door, like a victorious general. “This is my grandson’s room! You, a good-for-nothing who’s been relying on my daughter for ten years, what right do you have to the master bedroom? Go sleep in the maid’s quarters over there!” Alaric, wearing my silk pajamas, leaned against the doorframe, giving me a provocative smile. “Cain, I’m sorry. Julian gets restless at night and will only sleep here. Your things… I was going to help you tidy them, but Auntie said they were bad luck and told me not to touch them.” He finished, stroking Julian White’s head, his face full of contentment. “The doctor said Julian is a smart child. The White family will rely on this little man, Julian, in the future.”

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To ensure his mistress escaped justice, my lawyer husband leaked classified information. Two key witnesses were brutally murdered without cause. I was branded with “dereliction of duty” and spent eight years locked away. The day I walked free, I pushed open the front door of my old home to find it brightly decorated. Michael stood in the center, impeccably dressed in a pristine white suit. His posture was as composed as ever. The host, beaming, led me to the living room’s center. “Miss Evelyn, today, in front of your friends and family, do you agree to remarry Mr. Michael Sterling?” He gazed at me with profound affection. “Evie, I’ve been waiting for you to come home all these years…” I looked at him with a cold stare. “How could a former convict with a criminal record ever be worthy of you?” … Michael’s body swayed suddenly, a faint, forced smile touching his lips. It was that same “devotion” he’d used to trick me into signing divorce papers when I was sentenced to prison years ago. The living room fell silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “Evelyn! If you hadn’t gotten tangled in that mess back then, would Michael have needed to divorce to protect himself?” “Without Michael, we all would’ve been dragged down with you!” Michael’s sister, Scarlet, stepped forward, her voice sharp with accusation. “He’s giving you a chance now, accepting you, a ‘tainted’ woman. Shouldn’t you be grateful?” I glanced at her but said nothing. Years of endless incarceration had taught me to avoid arguments. My relatives, seeing my silence, assumed I was still the “easy target” I once was. They all wanted their moment to verbally abuse me. My aunt peered at me with a sidelong glance, her voice shrill. “Someone who’s been to prison, like you, used to be like a rat in the street.” “It’s only Michael who still wants you, otherwise, we would’ve long removed your father’s memorial tablet from the family crypt!” My cousin chimed in from beside her. “Exactly! Because of your carelessness, two lives were lost back then!” “Michael has been cleaning up your mess all these years, otherwise, you wouldn’t have even made it out of prison!” They had clearly been bought off by Michael, even more shameless than before. My carelessness caused the witnesses’ deaths? I almost laughed aloud. The night before the operation eight years ago. Michael had uncharacteristically questioned me about the location of the witness safe house and their transfer routes. I was suspicious and, naturally, refused, citing confidentiality. But on the eve of their departure, he insisted I drive his car, claiming it was more discreet and safer. Yet, that car already had a bug planted in it by him. All because my investigation target was Serena Thorne, his first love. Serena was suspected of multiple major international money laundering cases and was labeled as the prime suspect by law enforcement. Michael, for her sake, didn’t hesitate to put me and the witnesses in dire peril. As the vehicle drove along a mountain road, we were subjected to a precise ambush! Gunshots erupted from all sides, and the witnesses perished. Colleagues on the mission fell one after another before my eyes. Before the case investigation began, he knelt on the ground, clutching my hand, and pleaded desperately, holding out a CT scan. “Evie, we’re having a baby, I can’t let anything happen to me…” For the sake of our child, I bore the charge of “dereliction of duty.” But on the day the verdict was delivered, he pushed a divorce agreement, leaving me with nothing, across the table. “I already had the child aborted. I don’t want them to have a criminal for a mother.” “And your actions are affecting my legal career. Let’s get a divorce.” I furiously bent the pen, but couldn’t stop the nightmare from beginning. In prison, the charge of “causing the death of witnesses” made me a pariah. Moreover, Serena, who had escaped justice, specifically arranged for guards to give me “special attention.” Beatings, humiliation, and withheld meals were commonplace. I was tormented until I became disabled. My left abdomen was pierced by a sharpened plastic ruler, which would throb painfully when my emotions were volatile. My right palm was shattered by a hammer and could no longer fully extend or grip. I finally couldn’t hold back a scoff. I pulled up my shirt, revealing my scars one by one to everyone. The scattered murmurs instantly quieted, and Michael’s face twisted strangely. His eyes held complex emotions, like guilt, yet also impatience. “Everyone, let’s calm down a bit. Evie just got out, she might need some time to adjust.” “I’ll take good care of her during this time, so she can rediscover the warmth of a home.” At these words, my relatives immediately changed their tune, praising him. “Michael is truly a rare good man!” “Evelyn being able to marry Michael is indeed a blessing earned over several lifetimes!” Only I was familiar with his exquisite performance. Advancing by retreating, playing the role of the deeply wronged yet still devoted lover. Suddenly, his phone rang. He listened for only a few sentences before his expression drastically changed. He grabbed his suit jacket and rushed out without looking back. The relatives in the living room exchanged glances. I couldn’t be bothered with them. I turned and walked toward the master bedroom. On the bed lay several women’s dresses and jackets. In the bathroom, there were two sets of toiletries. I knew then that his “eight years of waiting” was nothing more than shacking up with Serena. Suddenly, my abdomen spasmed with pain. It seemed my old problem was flaring up again. I leaned against the wall and dialed 911 before losing consciousness. When I woke up, I was in a hospital, surrounded by the acrid smell of disinfectant. My vision was a blurry white. “You’re finally awake.” An unfamiliar man’s voice sounded. I painfully turned my neck. Standing by the bed was a doctor in a white coat, a “Chief Physician” badge clipped to his chest. “I’m your attending physician, Dr. Hayes.” “You were… the officer who was incarcerated a few years ago, I know you.” “I can’t imagine what you suffered in prison.” I just smiled faintly, pulling at the wound on my face, and got up from the hospital bed to pay the bill. I walked to the floor where the organ transplant department was located. Passing a hospital room door, I suddenly stopped. It was Michael! A doctor stood beside him. “Serena Thorne’s family member, it’s already a miracle that Serena’s liver failure could be temporarily stabilized this time!” “But the liver transplant can’t be delayed any longer.” “I know! I know!” Michael’s voice was tearful. “Serena, just hold on a little longer…” I peered through the door crack, clearly seeing the pale, sunken face on the hospital bed. It was Serena, utterly devoid of the glamorous aura of a CEO. Time had taken everything—my love and her pride. Michael sobbed, trembling as he kissed Serena’s forehead. “Serena, Evelyn is out of prison.” “I had someone check. Her liver is a match for you. I’ll make her save you!” Serena on the bed shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “How could she be willing? We’re the ones who made her lose everything…” Outside the door, my blood seemed to freeze instantly. Finally, from their mouths, my suspicions of eight years were confirmed. They even got me out of prison, pretending to have a change of heart, all just to exploit me. I clenched my fists, wanting nothing more than to rush in and choke them both. “Serena, I’ll arrange everything. Don’t worry.” “Evelyn is a former officer, and you’re a critically ill patient. She should make the sacrifice for you.” “I’ll remarry Evelyn as soon as possible…” His voice dropped, suddenly imbued with a chilling malice. “Once she’s in the hospital for the ‘rescue,’ I’ll sign as her spouse to withdraw consent.” So, that was the reason he so publicly pushed for remarriage. I lost my balance and stumbled, accidentally bumping against the door. “Who’s out there?” I turned and hurried away, leaving the confused doctor behind. After paying the bill, I had only six hundred dollars left. I rented a sunless basement in the city’s outskirts. My criminal record barred me from all decent jobs, so I ended up hauling cargo at a logistics transfer station. Work started at four in the morning, my right hand useless, relying entirely on my left shoulder and back. After unloading each truck, the old wound in my abdomen would ache with agonizing intensity. Michael’s calls rang incessantly, like a death knell. I watched the name flicker on the screen, from initial pain to eventual numbness. I rejected, blocked, he’d get a new number, I’d block again. The cycle repeated. I never opened his text messages. Scarlet’s messages also came in one after another. First, she accused me of betraying Michael’s deep affection, then asked if I could be a match for Serena. I read them, my heart feeling as if it were being slowly sliced by a blunt knife. Finally, I dragged her number into the blacklist too. I thought if I hid like a rat in a sewer, they would eventually leave me alone. But I was wrong. Today, I arrived at the logistics station early as usual, waiting for tasks. The supervisor walked over, his face dark, and threw several crumpled bills hard at my face. “Take your dirty money and get out, now!” I froze, looking at him blankly. “What are you looking at? You cold-blooded animal who stands by and watches people die!” The supervisor spat on the ground, his eyes filled with undisguised hatred. Surrounding workers all looked over, their gazes strange, whispering amongst themselves. A worker I usually knew fairly well pulled out his phone and shoved it in front of me, righteously indignant. “What are you pretending to be dumb for! Your sister-in-law is waiting for your liver to save her life, are you even human?” “Pah! And you used to be a cop, you heartless monster!” On the phone screen, the local news headline was a bold, glaring title: [Former Officer Released From Prison Refuses to Help Dying Sister-in-Law; Critically Ill Relative Desperately Awaits Liver Donation] Below it were two photos: one a close-up of Scarlet lying in a hospital bed, her face pale. The other, surprisingly, was my old photo in police uniform from my academy days, standing with Scarlet. My heart skipped a beat. Scarlet was actually using her identity as my sister-in-law, pretending to be critically ill, to cooperate with Michael and pressure me through public opinion? The comment section was already a torrent of condemnation. But I knew no matter how I argued, it would be useless. Who would believe a jailed former officer? I bent down, my hands trembling as I picked up the five hundred dollars scattered on the ground. Step by step, I walked back to my dark, semi-basement apartment. As I reached the alley entrance, I immediately sensed something was wrong. Several people carrying cameras were blocking the doorway of my rental, peering inside. My heart tightened, and I instinctively turned to leave. “Hey! Over there! It’s Evelyn!” A shout, and the group swarmed towards me like sharks smelling blood. Long lenses and heavy cameras surrounded me, the blinding flashlights making it impossible to keep my eyes open. “Miss Evelyn! We heard you were in prison because you caused the death of witnesses?” “How much do you know about your sister-in-law Scarlet’s condition?” The questions grew sharper, more vicious with each one. I lowered my head, shielding my face with my arm, trying to push my way through. “No comment! Get out of my way!” “Evelyn, are you guilty?” “Your sister-in-law is only twenty-seven. Can you really bear to watch her die?” “Do you think since you’ve been to prison, you can just throw everything away, even basic human decency?” I was like a clown with nowhere to hide, utterly disheveled. The onlookers pointed and whispered, but no one dared to approach. Just then, the sound of a car engine broke through the crowd outside. The car door opened, and Michael stepped out. The reporters immediately turned their cameras on them. In front of the cameras, Michael instantly put on a worried expression, choking out: “Evie, she’s my own sister, how can you be so heartless?” “If you agree to save her, I’ll give you three million dollars and a mansion!” The reporters next to him chimed in, tears flowing readily. “How touching, Evelyn, how can you be so cruel?” Beyond endurance, my eyes burned red, every word steeped in blood and hatred. “I will request a retrial for the case from all those years ago! I’ll make all of you pay the price!” I glared at Michael. “You want my liver? You won’t get it even if I die!” Michael’s expression instantly froze, a hint of chilling malice emerging. He advanced on me, uttering a few words in a sinister whisper, squeezing them through his teeth. “Evelyn, you’re forcing my hand.” With that, he quickly sent a text message on his phone. Within a few minutes, scattered footsteps and commotion sounded from a distance. A group of enraged people pushed through the crowd, instantly surrounding me. They were the families of the victims from eight years ago. They had aged, looking even more haggard. But the hatred in their eyes was more furious than it had been in the courtroom then. “Evelyn! You murderer!” “If it weren’t for Michael, the lawyer, secretly funding us all these years, helping us through hard times.” “We would have been waiting at the prison gate, ready to stab you the moment you got out!” “You killed my son! You should have paid with your life ages ago!” “Now, asking you to donate a liver to save someone, that’s giving you a chance to atone!” “Yes! Donate the liver! You must! Otherwise, we’ll drag you to the hospital today!” Spittle and curses wove a net, trapping me firmly in the center. They had been manipulated by Michael, using both his benevolence and their hatred, becoming perfect examples of borrowed knives. “I’m innocent!” I screamed with all my might. “Michael planted a bug in my car. He was the one who tipped off Serena, causing the operation to be exposed…” “It’s not even Scarlet who needs the liver, it’s Serena!” When I mentioned Serena, the victims’ families grew even more agitated. “On the verge of death and still trying to slander others!” “Trying to shirk responsibility! No way!” I looked at the misled crowd, at the coldly smiling Michael, as a sharp pain ripped through my abdomen. Michael looked down at me, hunched on the ground, with a patronizing gaze. “Evelyn, last time I’ll ask you: the liver, will you donate, or won’t you?” I lifted my tear-filled eyes, looking at the man who had ruined everything for me, and said, word by word, “The biggest regret of my life was marrying you.” Michael stiffened, standing still. “Hit her! Kill this heartless animal!” Someone shouted, and the crowd instantly erupted into violence! I curled up, protecting my vitals, but fists and feet rained down from all directions. My ribs thudded, my legs screamed in pain, and a stick struck my back. In the chaos, I heard Michael instructing: “Don’t hurt her liver area, that thing is still useful…” I screamed with all my might, pushing past someone, and scrambled to the main road, rolling and crawling! “Stop her! Don’t let her run!” I dragged my almost shattered body onto the middle lane of the road. The straight lane had a green light, and the screeching of brakes instantly filled the air! “Evelyn! What are you doing! Come back!” Michael’s panicked scream came from behind. I let out a relieved laugh, and leapt towards a rapidly approaching truck. Michael, I will never forgive you. He let out a chilling scream. “No! I don’t want you to donate anymore! Come back…” “Boom!” A massive crash resounded.

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After my rebirth, I agreed to my husband’s idea of an open marriage. When my parents pressed about having children, I’d shoulder all the blame, never exposing his desire to be child-free. Accidentally seeing him kiss his childhood friend goodbye while taking out the trash? I’d pretend not to notice, turning to go back upstairs. Finding his childhood friend’s underwear beneath his pillow? I’d casually wash them, dry them, and fold them neatly. My friends called me a doormat, saying I was addicted to being a cuckold. His brothers all claimed I loved him, hopelessly so. Another time, returning home, I saw the chaotic scene in the master bedroom, and considerately closed the door for him. I put on my headphones and started making dinner. When I turned around, he was standing at the doorway, I don’t know when he got there, his handsome face clouded with fury. “Delia Jones, where’s your old pride?” I acted as if I hadn’t heard him, turning back to stir-fry the vegetables. A bitter taste, however, lingered in my heart. Pride? I simply didn’t want to repeat the tragedy of my previous life. 1 As the last dish – one of Ryan’s favorites – was placed on the table, Chloe Knight was just buttoning the last button of her shirt in front of the mirror. She turned, her face unable to hide a smug satisfaction and challenge. “Delia, I like this jacket. Can I have it?” I instinctively looked at the man by the table. For the past half hour, his face had been dark. He was the one who suggested an open marriage a year ago, yet now he was the one displeased. Sure enough, as soon as I agreed to give Chloe the jacket he’d given me, his expression grew even darker. He violently kicked the table leg, sending soup spilling across the floor. “Get out!” Chloe’s face subtly changed. She took off the jacket. As she brushed past me, she murmured mockingly, watching me mop the floor. “Delia Jones, what’s the difference between a woman like you and a doormat? I really don’t know why Ryan married a doormat like you!” In my previous life, I had pondered that question too. Ryan was the eldest son of the Jones family, showered with attention and power since childhood. In contrast, the Davies family was just a small, independent household. In my past life, until my dying breath, I agonized over whether Ryan loved me, and why he married me. If he loved me, why did he treat me that way? Having died once, I no longer agonized, nor did I care. He could do whatever he wanted, as long as the tragedy of the previous life wasn’t repeated. The moment Chloe stepped out, Ryan swept all the dishes off the table. A soup bowl shattered by my feet, the hot liquid splashing onto my calf. A burning pain spread all the way to my heart, making me gasp. Yet, even then, I didn’t lose my temper. I limped over to get a broom and started cleaning the floor. Behind me, Ryan roared. “Delia Jones, do you even see how pathetic you are right now? Where’s your old pride? I know I wronged you, but you don’t have to disgust me like this!” I paused, turning back, my eyes numb to indifference. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” The man’s eyes were bloodshot. He took a deep breath and said, “Delia Jones, you’re really something!” “Fine, if you’re so capable, then be a coward for the rest of your life!” With that, he snatched his jacket and slammed the door behind him. I instinctively wanted to chase after him. But then I thought, there was no need. Every time we argued, Ryan would confide in Chloe. In my previous life, I had witnessed him holding Chloe in his arms countless times. I would cry, become hysterical, and lash out. All I got in return was a powerful slap across the face. “Chloe and I grew up together, best friends. You have no right to hit her!” I knelt, picking up the glass shards from the floor. My friend called, shouting angrily. “Delia Jones, when are you finally divorcing Ryan? Chloe has already openly announced it on her social media!” I tapped to open the social media app. The first post was a photo of intertwined fingers. The wedding ring on the man’s ring finger gleamed, pricking my eyeballs. I quietly watched for two seconds, then exited the photo and continued cleaning. Divorce? Impossible. Unless Ryan initiated it, I would never divorce him. In my previous life, I had already experienced the consequences of divorcing him; I didn’t want to go through it again. Ryan didn’t return all night, and I slept soundly. I woke on time, brewed some soup, and went to the hospital to visit my mother. In the hospital, my mother put down the soup bowl, looking towards the door for the third time. “Delia, have you talked to Ryan about children?” “It’s not me nagging, but Ryan is almost thirty; it’s time to have a child…” I was peeling an apple. At her words, the knife slipped, and a drop of blood welled up on my fingertip. The sharp sting brought me back to reality, and I said, without blushing or a quickened heartbeat, “Mom, I’m not in a hurry.” “Is it you who’s not in a hurry, or is it Ryan who doesn’t want one?” A mother knows her daughter best. My mother coughed excitedly, and the entire bed began to shake violently. “Delia, tell me the truth, are those photos online real? What’s really going on between you and Ryan?” I quickly pressed the call button for the nurse, swiftly helping my mother catch her breath. Before losing consciousness, my mother gripped my arm, gasping. “Delia, if Ryan doesn’t treat you well, how am I supposed to explain it to your father when I’m gone!” The doctor arrived in time. After examination, it was just a brief fainting spell caused by extreme emotion. The doctor patted my shoulder. “The patient’s condition is improving day by day, don’t worry.” I forced a bitter smile. When I reached a secluded spot, the tears I had been holding back finally streamed down, as if they could melt the ground. My mother’s convulsive state on the bed just now was so similar to how she was before she passed away in my previous life. In my previous life, after discovering Ryan and Chloe’s ambiguous relationship, I insisted on a divorce. Under Ryan’s coercion, I left with nothing. For my mother’s health, I concealed these matters. I worked eight part-time jobs daily to save up for my mother’s medical expenses. When hungry, I ate steamed buns soaked in water; when thirsty, I drank tap water from public restrooms. In just one month, I lost twenty pounds. Several times, I almost got into a car accident while delivering goods due to low blood sugar. Just as I finally saved up a million dollars, my mother suddenly had a heart attack and was rushed to the ER. It turned out, my mother hadn’t seen Ryan for too long and called him to check in. Unexpectedly, Chloe answered the phone. Not only did she reveal the truth about the divorce, but she also sent my mother photos of me working various jobs, groveling for medical expenses. Along with high-definition, uncensored videos of her and Ryan. Watching the surveillance footage of my mother vomiting blood on the spot and convulsing, I felt a pain like a knife slicing through me. The doctors snatched my mother from the jaws of death, but also delivered devastating news. Within three days, I had to raise one point five million for the surgery. Otherwise, my mother’s outcome would be unimaginable. I called former friends, bosses, relatives, pleading with them. Some stammered. “Sorry, Delia, Mr. Jones said that anyone who dares to help you is making an enemy of the entire Jones family.” Others immediately cursed me out. “No money, even if I had money, I wouldn’t lend it to you! Don’t call me again, if you drag me down, I’ll never forgive you!” On the third day, I begged Ryan. The haughtiness from the day of our divorce, when I walked away without a backward glance, was completely gone, replaced only by my kneeling legs and an utterly hoarse plea. Ryan looked down at me, satisfied. “I can save your mother, but on one condition.” “Marry me again.” The moment my heart died, and I agreed to this condition, Ryan immediately arranged for the nation’s top medical team to create a detailed treatment plan for my mother. He invited the world’s most authoritative expert to perform her surgery. Just when I thought everything was ready, and my mother would finally live a long life, on the day of the surgery, the expert suddenly disappeared. My mother had already been anesthetized, lying on the operating table, her life hanging by a thread. I called Ryan ninety-nine times; all went unanswered. On the last call, he finally picked up. I was crouched on the floor, crying so hard I almost vomited. “Ryan, where did you take the doctor? My mom is really fading fast. If she doesn’t get surgery, she’ll die! I’m begging you, save Mom! She’s the only family I have left!” After a long silence, Chloe’s voice came from the other end of the line. “Ryan, who are you talking to?” My heart plummeted, all my pleas turning into a joke. Ryan immediately hung up. At the same time, the hospital finally urgently transferred a doctor from another hospital who could take over the surgery. Unfortunately, it was still too late. In her last moments, my mother gripped my hand, vomiting blood, her body trembling violently. “Delia… don’t cry… Mom will always watch over you from heaven…” “Mom’s little Delia… you must be happy…” I held my mother’s urn, walking like a zombie, aimlessly through the deep winter streets. As I took a taxi to the cemetery, my phone pushed a trending news alert. #Chloe Knight in Car Accident, Mr. Jones Sheds Tears of Concern# The string of words pricked my eyes like needles. I clicked into the page, staring intensely at the expert bandaging Chloe’s arm. My hands trembled, unable to hold the urn steady. Just because Chloe had a scraped arm, Ryan took away the expert, personally cutting off my mother’s chance at life! I stood in the freezing snow, laughing hysterically, tears covering my pale face. Reborn into this life, I dared not gamble, nor would I. In this life, all I wanted was for my mother to be safe and sound. Everything else was irrelevant. I slowly stood up, wiping away the tears welling in my eyes. Back in the hospital room, my mother had already woken up. I held her hand tightly, my face calm. “Mom, it’s really me who doesn’t want children. It has nothing to do with Ryan… nothing.” “Those photos online are just rumors and fabrications. Don’t believe them. Ryan and I… our relationship is very good.” After comforting my mother and returning home, it was already eight in the evening. Ryan, unusually, was home before me. He reeked of alcohol, lying on the sofa, muttering something. I habitually went into the kitchen to make him a bowl of hangover soup. As I blew on it to cool it before feeding him, he suddenly cupped my face. His hazy, drunken state reminded me of how, in my previous life, he had called out Chloe’s name while he was with me. I, who never suffered from insomnia, spent the entire night awake, checking his phone for the first time. Those explicit photos and videos were like countless sharp knives, carving through my heart, leaving it raw and bleeding. “Delia Jones…” The unexpected name made me freeze. The next second, I was pinned to the sofa by Ryan. His drunken eyes gleamed frightfully, as if they could see through everything I was thinking. “Delia Jones.” He spoke again, his voice carrying a subtle hint of complaint. “Do you really still love me? I somehow feel like you don’t care about me as much as you used to…” Just as I didn’t know how to answer, Ryan buried his face in my ear, his voice a whisper, but remarkably firm. “No, you can’t not love me. You just care about me too much, which is why you’ve become like this.” My heart felt like a spilled spice cabinet, complex and chaotic. Only one thing was clear. The Delia Jones who loved Ryan had long since died. The next morning, Ryan immediately forgot what he said while drunk, spending a long time alone in the attic. As I just finished setting breakfast on the table, he rushed down the stairs, fire blazing in his voice. “Delia Jones, where are those paintings?” I paused, feigning ignorance. “What paintings?” At my words, his angry, somewhat contorted face was inches from mine. “Of course, it’s the paintings your father left in the attic! Besides you, who would touch that rubbish!” The last two words slammed heavily into my battered heart. A hint of sarcasm flickered in my eyes. In his eyes, those paintings were indeed rubbish. In Chloe’s eyes, this ‘rubbish’ was enough to gain her significant recognition in the art world. In my previous life, my mother had barely been buried when Chloe, using my father’s paintings, held a solo exhibition, her popularity soaring, earning her the title of a genius calligrapher. I instantly recognized the paintings in the livestream – the ones that had accompanied me day and night, giving me reason to carry on. Enraged, I took a taxi to the exhibition and caused a huge scene. When reporters asked Ryan if the paintings were Chloe’s work, he unhesitatingly nodded. “I saw Chloe create them with my own eyes.” “As for my ex-wife,” he looked at me, a fleeting hesitation in his eyes, replaced by complete ruthlessness. “It’s just because she’s resentful after our divorce and is maliciously seeking revenge, trying to ruin my best friend.” Overnight, I was slammed on social media. Every day, people would throw dog blood at my rental door. Some even found my parents’ graves, kicking and spitting on their tombstones. In despair, I lost the will to live and swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills. But Ryan had me rushed to the hospital and revived. His eyes red, he desperately clutched my hand. “Delia, let’s stop fighting. Never again.” I nodded. As he left the hospital to buy my favorite peach crisps, I jumped from the top floor, landing right in front of him. In this life, I not only had to protect my mother, but also my father’s legacy. I said, expressionless, “I already threw away those paintings.” Ryan’s eyes widened. “Are you crazy? Who told you to throw them away? Go get them back immediately! Chloe needs them urgently!” But no matter how anxious he became, I maintained an unconcerned demeanor. Watching his furious retreating figure, I let out a long breath, and the heavy stone that had been weighing on my heart finally fell. As usual, I prepared dinner and went to the hospital to visit my mother. On the way, a trending livestream with over a hundred million views caught my eye. #Chloe Knight, Calligraphy Genius# This headline hit me unprepared. I trembled as I clicked into the livestream. When I saw my father’s paintings hanging in the main exhibition area, with Chloe’s name attached, I felt as if plunged into an ice cellar, as if I had returned to that long, snowy night when my mother died in my previous life. I frantically called Ryan while rushing to the hospital. Pushing open the door, my mother lay peacefully in her hospital bed, knitting a hat for the child I would never have. Seeing my breathless face, my mother’s expression subtly changed. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” I suppressed the fear and unease in my heart, forcing a terribly strained smile, and shook my head. I took my mother’s phone and blocked or uninstalled all apps that could potentially expose her to news about my father’s paintings. Only then did I feel relieved enough to push my mother for a stroll outside the hospital. Midway, I took a phone call. When I returned, my mother had suddenly disappeared. At the same time, a nurse’s shriek echoed through the hospital lobby. “Doctor! Quick, help lift her! A patient here is vomiting blood and has collapsed!” I pushed my way through the crowd, and a scene identical to my previous life crashed into my eyes. My mother was on the ground, limbs convulsing, vomiting blood. Above her head, Chloe’s exhibition livestream played prominently. “Mom—!” Outside the operating room, I knelt on the ground, my bloodied hands pressed together, pleading with Death not to take my mother. After a long while, the doctor emerged from the operating room and shook his head. “My condolences.” The world spun, and I collapsed to the ground, my face ashen. As I walked out of the hospital entrance, holding my mother’s urn, Chloe’s exhibition had concluded perfectly. Ryan stood by her side, like a perfect couple, utterly matched. I felt no hatred, no anger. Only a numb despair, an emptiness deeper than death. It seemed, even given another chance at life, I couldn’t protect what I wanted to protect. Now I had nothing left to lose. Ryan, goodbye. No, never again. My mother’s dying wish for me to be happy echoed in my ears. I looked down and drafted a scheduled divorce text message. “Congratulations, you are finally free of me forever.” Then, carrying a simple suitcase, I vanished into the night.

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At three in the morning, hearing that Ryder Anderson was having an episode, I rushed over without a moment’s hesitation. But I was stopped by his friends at the private room door. The thin door couldn’t conceal the intimate sounds from within. Seeing me frozen in place, the men’s faces flushed red, and they awkwardly scratched their heads. “Sister-in-law, you know, when Ryder has an episode, he doesn’t recognize anyone. This isn’t the first or second time. Please understand, he doesn’t mean it.” “That’s right, sister-in-law, everyone knows Ryder loves you to death. He’s the one suffering the most from this…” I lowered my head, staring at my raw, bruised palms. It felt as if a large hole had been torn in my heart. I thought, if we were both in such agony, why should Ryder and I continue to cling to each other, tormenting ourselves? … Everyone else left. Only I remained, self-flagellating, curled in a corner, listening as the sounds from within gradually ceased. Ryder emerged. He crouched down and held me. Like a small dog drenched in rain, he trembled, apologizing repeatedly. “Evelyn, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” “You know, I can’t control it… Please forgive me, forgive me, okay…?” His kisses on my neck were cold and clammy, carrying the familiar scent of that perfume. I bit my lower lip until it was raw to keep myself from losing composure then and there. A woman limped out of the private room. Before she could even approach, Ryder frowned in annoyance, as if she were some repulsive trash. “Get away! Don’t come near me!” Chloe Knight scoffed dismissively. She fished a pink lace thong from Ryder’s pocket. “I’m just retrieving my things.” It was still damp with disgusting fluid, showing how intensely they had just been entwined. Yet, the woman’s words carried a rare clarity, as if deliberately drawing a line. “Mr. Anderson, don’t assume all women in the world are out to get you.” “In my eyes, you’re just my patient, and our relationship is limited to that.” With that, she left without hesitation. Ryder’s jaw was tightly clenched. He stared intently at her retreating figure, a focus he himself didn’t notice. His grip on my waist even loosened slightly, though it still hurt. Ryder cursed under his breath. “Damn it, what a pain in the ass!” Then he couldn’t resist letting go of me and chasing after Chloe. My nose stung, and I called out to him, my voice trembling. Ryder stopped, looked back at me, and hesitated. “There are hardly any surveillance cameras around here. Chloe Knight is out alone; it’s too dangerous.” “Evelyn, wait for me. I’ll be right back.” I stood there, stunned. I didn’t know how many times Ryder had left me alone. He was afraid Chloe would be in danger, but I had come here alone too. There weren’t even any streetlights on the way, and I had encountered several groups of rowdy hooligans who whistled at me. Why didn’t he worry about me, or ask if I was afraid? My face felt cold. It was tears, I realized, that I hadn’t known when I’d shed. The sky began to lighten, a pale fish-belly white, but Ryder never returned. Instead, Chloe posted something on social media. The photo showed messy bedsheets, and layers of hickeys on her body that wouldn’t fade. “Told my patient countless times not to be so rough. Do I not have to go out and face people?” Chloe always referred to Ryder as her patient, as if this would maintain their innocent doctor-patient relationship. But eight out of ten of her posts were related to Ryder. There was even a photo specifically showing their matching toothbrushes, bath towels, and pajamas, all couple’s items. “My patient insisted on buying these when we went grocery shopping, and forbade me from making fun of his taste. So bossy.” An uninformed person would think that she and Ryder were the couple. And I, his official girlfriend, could only secretly watch from the sidelines. Ryder drifted between two women, doing things I couldn’t bear. Could I blame him? No, I could only blame myself. Because I was the one who made him this way. Being loved by Ryder was the luckiest thing that had ever happened to me, from childhood until now. The moment I graduated high school, I accepted his confession and became the envy of every girl in school. That day, many people celebrated with us, but on the way, I was abducted by three or four burly men. They bound my hands behind my back, shoved me into the back seat of a van, men gripped my waist, forcefully spread my legs, and ripped my dress. Just when I was most desperate, Ryder appeared and saved me. He fought with the kidnappers, throwing himself into the fray as if he had no regard for his own life, blocking everyone and using his own blood to carve a path for me to escape. Even now, I remember the young man’s face, drenched in blood. He clutched one of the kidnapper’s legs desperately, taking several kicks, his usually upright back bent. Yet, he wouldn’t let go, just so I could run a little further. I was rescued by passersby, but Ryder was nowhere to be found. He was finally located in an abandoned warehouse. At that time, he was covered in wounds, his clothes blood-red, and he spent fifteen hours in the ICU before he was out of danger. After that, he developed severe psychological illnesses. Bipolar disorder, PTSD, mania… a slew of medical terms, some I understood, some I didn’t, weighed heavily upon us like mountains. Ryder became volatile, irritable, hysterical. Once his condition flared up, he became unrecognizable. There was even one time he laid hands on me. Along with his illness, extreme passion erupted. He pinned me down and tormented me for three days and three nights. By the time he regained consciousness, I was practically a ragdoll. There wasn’t a single unbruised spot on my body. Ryder loved me, valued me, cherished me. He held me dearer than his own life. Seeing this, he completely broke down, frantically slapping himself. He apologized to me countless times. He tried to break up with me, but he looked as desperate as if he were ending his own life. “Evelyn, I can’t control myself; I only hurt you.” “You shouldn’t… shouldn’t be burdened by a patient like me.” “Let’s break up. You… deserve better.” His tears scalded my palm. How could I possibly abandon him at a time like that? Chloe Knight appeared then, confidently proclaiming she could cure Ryder’s illness. I believed her. Their first transgression happened two years ago. Chloe’s lower body was torn, her injuries more severe than mine had been. Ryder couldn’t accept his loss of control and slashed his wrists in the bathroom. It was I who held him, telling him I didn’t mind, that reignited his will to live. After the first time, there was a second. Countless times thereafter, it became routine. Ryder couldn’t bear to be rough with me; whenever his illness flared up, he’d seek out Chloe. Chloe was like a soft sponge, absorbing all his irritability and bad temper. I, however, seemed to be a catalyst for his illness; as soon as I got close to him, it would remind him of that accident. Memories of the past were like sugar-coated glass, chewed to pieces for that speck of sweetness. It wasn’t until evening that Ryder returned. As soon as he walked in, he eagerly embraced me, apologizing softly. “I’m sorry, Evelyn, I had another episode. It took a long time to regain consciousness.” My silence made Ryder think I was still angry. He paused, then his fingers traced my shoulder strap, pinning me beneath him. The light was dim. But I still saw the forced effort and impatience in his eyes. My heart constricted. Just as I was about to refuse, Ryder reacted violently, pushing me away. My knee hit a sharp edge, instantly gushing blood. Ryder clutched his head, his face contorted in pain, howling at me to stay away from him. I thought he was afraid of losing control and hurting me, but then I heard him repeatedly muttering Chloe’s pet name. “Chloe, where is Chloe?” His pupils were bloodshot, and he glared at me with hatred, as if I were the enemy separating him from Chloe. “Is it you? Did you hide Chloe?!” Ryder’s words were like a sharp dagger thrust into my chest, making every breath explode with piercing pain. Chloe, who had rushed over, shoved me aside and gently comforted Ryder in her arms. Miraculously, Ryder slowly calmed down. “Evelyn Davies!” Chloe fiercely accused me. “How many times have I told you, Ryder is a patient, he can’t handle any provocation!” “The two of us have a proper doctor-patient relationship, it’s not as sordid as you think! All these years, it’s because of your unfounded jealousy that Ryder’s condition hasn’t improved!” “Do you have to kill him to be satisfied?!” The surrounding servants also whispered amongst themselves. “If it weren’t for Miss Davies, the young master wouldn’t have gotten this strange illness. This illness is tormenting enough, and Miss Davies keeps going against him, disturbing the peace of this house.” “If you ask me, Dr. Knight is more sensible, gentler, and more compatible with the young master.” A maid glanced at me, her meaning clear. “Looking at how the young master holds Dr. Knight like a treasure, the one truly in his heart is probably someone else.” “Someone’s dream of soaring to become a phoenix is probably going to fall through!” The servants’ snide remarks made my face flush then pale. And Ryder, having regained consciousness, didn’t utter a single word in my defense. He merely clung dependently to Chloe, as if Chloe was the beloved he cherished. My tears instantly welled up. I couldn’t believe he would be so cold towards me, and instinctively called out his name. Chloe quickly covered Ryder’s ears, frowning as she yelled at me. “Evelyn Davies, Ryder just got a little better, and you’re provoking him again!” “If you have any conscience, leave quickly! You’re not welcome here!” “Mrs. Henderson!” Chloe ordered her. “Get her out! Don’t let her cause a scene here!” Ryder’s indulgence was acquiescence. The servants were skilled at assessing the situation. Mrs. Henderson, who had always been respectfully polite to me, now had a cold face. She gripped my wrist tightly, dragging me out. Outside, it was freezing. They didn’t even leave me a jacket. I shivered, refusing to give up, and stood outside the door, only to see Ryder pressing Chloe against himself, eagerly kissing her lips. Chloe’s tone was mocking. “Mr. Anderson, Evelyn Davies is right outside watching. Are you sure you want to… with me right now?” His response was the man’s urgent thrusts and heavy breathing. “Damn it, let her watch if she wants. Who cares about her!” My heart instantly turned cold. I wandered aimlessly onto the street, eventually finding myself outside a jewelry store. There, a brilliant diamond ring was kept. It was an engagement gift from my mother before she passed away. I wanted to retrieve it, but the staff informed me that the ring had been taken by Ryder a year ago. “But that’s a keepsake my mother left for me. How could you just…” The sales associate, maintaining a polite, distant smile, interrupted me. “I apologize, Miss Davies, but we only recognize the deposit slip here.” “Mr. Anderson presented the deposit slip to retrieve it, which is perfectly reasonable and compliant. Furthermore, he informed us it was a gift for his girlfriend…” The associate paused, her voice tinged with pity. “He was accompanied by a Miss Knight. If you have any questions, perhaps you should ask Mr. Anderson?”

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