Author: Momo Chan

Mom went to the hospital for a check-up. When she came back, she often cried over a piece of paper. I secretly took that paper to Dad. Dad tore it to shreds, roaring at her, “How long are you going to keep up this ‘playing sick’ act? Are you using our child now too?” He slammed the door and left. I crawled into bed and hugged Mom, crying, “Mommy, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone to Daddy.” Mom said nothing. She just wiped away my tears and smiled gently at me. Later, Mom really died. And my father, the aloof CEO who never loved her, held her lifeless body, crying like a madman. 1 Mom hadn’t spoken to me for a long time. No matter what I said to her, she ignored me. I could only curl up on the sofa by myself, playing with my building blocks. When I was hungry, I’d eat snacks and fruit from the fridge. I really wanted to call Dad. But Mom’s phone was dead. After I charged it and turned it on, it asked for a password. I didn’t know Mom’s password. So, I just waited for Dad to call us. But in my heart, I knew. Dad wouldn’t call us. He didn’t want us anymore. He had been living with Aunt Serena. The last time I saw him was when he brought Aunt Serena’s daughter, Bethany, to our kindergarten sports day. Seeing him, I was so excited. I hadn’t seen Daddy in such a long, long time. I wanted to rush over and yell, “Daddy! Daddy!” But Mom pulled me back. She said, “Sweetheart, that’s not your daddy. You’re mistaken.” How could that be? That was my daddy. I couldn’t be mistaken. I still wanted to call out, but Mom picked me up and carried me to a quiet corner. I huddled in her arms, watching Daddy hold Bethany the whole time. He wiped her sweat, gave her water, and tore open a chocolate bar, feeding it into her mouth. When Bethany fell and scraped her knee, Daddy immediately ran over, checked her injury, and asked tenderly, “Does it hurt? Come on, let me blow on it, make the boo-boos fly away.” Bethany wailed, stretching her arms out to my daddy. “It hurts! Hug me! I want a hug!” Daddy picked her up. He gently wiped the tears from her face with his finger, whispering comforting words to her. I heard him say he was taking her for a hamburger. I understood. I was mistaken. That wasn’t my daddy. 2 My daddy rarely hugged me. He had never taken me for a hamburger. Once, I fell on the street, and I couldn’t help it, tears just streamed down my face. I looked at Daddy pitifully, reaching out my hands, timidly saying, “Hug.” I saw him frown, then turn to Mom. “How do you raise your daughter? Crying over every little thing. Children shouldn’t be so delicate.” I didn’t understand Daddy’s words. But I could tell he was scolding Mom. Was it because I fell? Or because I cried? I quickly wiped away my tears, gritted my teeth against the pain, and stood up by myself. I walked in front of Mom, spread my arms, and shielded her. “I don’t hurt, I don’t hurt at all, Daddy, please don’t scold Mom anymore, please.” Daddy glanced at me, said nothing, and turned away. I looked up at Mom, wanting her to praise me. Tears welled in her eyes. She pinched my cheek and said, “I’m sorry, my precious, Mommy has failed you.” My teacher taught us that only those who do wrong need to say “I’m sorry.” I shook my head and said very seriously, “Mommy, you’re not sorry.” Because the one who did wrong was never my mommy. 3 My daddy rarely came home. Every time he did, he would argue with Mom. The last time he came home, I had gotten a gold star at kindergarten, and Mom rewarded me by buying me a hamburger. The moment Daddy opened the door, he swept all the hamburgers off the table. “I’m not home, and you feed her this junk food every day? Is this how you take care of our daughter?” I was terrified, hugging Mom and crying. Mom gently wiped away my tears, telling me not to be scared. She said, “You misunderstood, this is just…” “I don’t need to hear your explanations.” Daddy was very impatient, cutting Mom off. He threw a thick document at Mom and said, “Here’s the divorce agreement. Take a look, just sign it.” “This house is yours, the car is yours, the child…” “I want our child!” Mom hugged me tightly. She gripped my shoulders, and it hurt a little. But I didn’t struggle, because I could feel Mom’s fingers trembling. She must have been very scared. I hugged Mom back, very tightly, wanting to give her strength. “Your house, your car, your money—I can give it all up. I only want Skylar. She is my daughter.” Daddy stared at her for a moment, then suddenly laughed. It was a cold, uncomfortable laugh. “Eleanor Montgomery, what new trick have you learned now? Playing the doting mother, using the child to threaten me?” A rare flicker of anger crossed Mom’s usually gentle face. She turned her head away, not looking at Daddy. “I’m not threatening you. I just want my daughter.” “What would our daughter do with you? Eat this junk food every day?” I didn’t understand what they were talking about. But I knew what divorce meant. Sam, a boy from kindergarten, told us his mom and dad divorced, and he lived with his daddy. Some naughty children teased him, “Your mommy doesn’t want you anymore! You don’t have a mommy!” Sam cried terribly. I offered him a piece of taffy that Mom had tucked into my pocket. I comforted him, “Don’t cry. Your mommy won’t abandon you.” But he cried even harder, yelling, “They divorced! They don’t want me anymore! I don’t have a mommy or daddy anymore!” I was scared by him. And I started crying too. Now, I remembered that. I burst into tears. “I don’t want you to divorce! I want my mommy and daddy! I want my mommy and daddy!” Mom was heartbroken. She cried with me, holding me tight. Daddy froze, then grew even angrier, his brows furrowed in impatience. “Eleanor Montgomery, what nonsense are you teaching her every day? So many schemes at such a young age. Do you think using the child to control me will stop me from divorcing you?” Mom looked up, her face filled with an anger I’d never seen before. “Richard Reed, I forbid you to speak about my daughter like that! Apologize to my daughter!” “What ‘your’ daughter? Eleanor Montgomery, I will absolutely not let our daughter stay with you. Don’t dream about it.” Once again, Daddy slammed the door and left. 4 Mom’s phone rang. It was Daddy. I ran over, wanting to pick it up. It only rang once before he hung up. I gently shook Mom in bed. “Mommy! It’s Daddy’s call! Daddy’s coming for us!” Mom didn’t react. That’s right. Every time Daddy came home, he argued with Mom. It was only natural that she didn’t like him coming back. I tucked Mom in properly. Then I sat obediently on the sofa, waiting for Daddy to come home. Daddy arrived very quickly. The key turned in the lock. I stood up impatiently and ran to the door. Daddy opened it, saw me, and paused. “Where’s your mom?” “Mommy’s in the room…” “Never mind. I have nothing to say to her anyway. Skylar, go change your clothes and come out with me.” “Daddy…” I couldn’t stop him. He was already at the elevator, smoking a cigarette. Mom hated the smell of smoke. Daddy never smoked inside the house. Before, when his friends came over, he would always make them go outside to smoke. “Go outside to smoke, my wife can’t stand the smell.” At times like that, his friends would laugh and say, “Richard really spoils his wife, doesn’t he?” “Yes, I envy Eleanor.” And Mom would always blush, saying, “It’s fine, just smoke inside, don’t make them go out.” Daddy would put his arm around Mom’s waist, stop her, and kiss her. “Don’t worry about them, let them go outside. Let’s see who dares to smoke in front of my wife.” They had once been very much in love. What broke all of that? Was it me? Was it because I always clamored for hamburgers? Was it because I always cried over the smallest things? Was it because I wouldn’t let them divorce? Was it because I wanted to fight Bethany for Daddy? Was it my fault? Was that why Daddy hated Mom? Mommy, I’m sorry. It seems I messed everything up. 5 I couldn’t pull up the zipper on my dress. I patted Mom on the bed. “Mommy, help me zip it up. I can’t reach.” Mom still didn’t respond to me. Was I too disobedient? Now, even Mom didn’t want me anymore? I felt a little scared and didn’t dare wear that white dress. I changed into another outfit. When I walked out of the house, Daddy saw me and frowned. “How does your mother take care of you? Doesn’t she know to buy you new clothes?” No. It’s not like that. Mommy is very good to me. I just couldn’t wear that dress. I screamed this inside my head. But I didn’t dare say a word. I was afraid that if I spoke, Daddy would dislike me even more. Daddy took me to kindergarten. The teacher was happy to see Daddy. When she saw me, her expression was a little strange. “Hello, Miss Albright. Could you please call Bethany Hastings out?” “Certainly, Mr. Reed. One moment, please.” Bethany came out quickly. Seeing my daddy, she was delighted, skipping over and throwing herself into his arms. “Daddy!” I quietly took a step back. My daddy patted her cheek and said, “Good girl.” When he looked at me, his smile vanished. His face hardened. “Skylar Reed, did you fight Bethany?” “No, I didn’t.” I shook my head. It wasn’t a fight. I just snatched her hairpin. “Still lying?” Daddy frowned, his voice much colder. “Is this how your mother teaches you? Bullying other children and then lying, not daring to admit it? You disappoint me greatly.” I didn’t understand what Daddy meant. But I could deeply feel that he disliked me very much now. My nose stung, and I felt like crying again, but then I heard him roar at me. “Don’t you dare cry!” “Crying over every little thing! How can you be my daughter!” I tried not to cry, but I just couldn’t help it. By the end, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. It was the kindergarten teacher who came over and patted my back. “Skylar, breathe, quickly, breathe.” But I didn’t dare breathe. If I breathed, I wouldn’t be able to stop crying. Daddy sighed, didn’t scold me anymore. “Apologize to Bethany.” I opened my mouth, using all my strength to control myself from crying. I whispered, “I’m sorry.” “Louder.” “I’M SORRY!” Tears streamed down my face. My vision blurred. I couldn’t see anything. Daddy still wasn’t satisfied. He asked me, “What did you do wrong?” “I shouldn’t have snatched her things, Daddy, I was wrong, please don’t hate me.” Daddy ignored me. He just took Bethany’s hand and turned to me. “Come inside with me.” He tried to pull me into the classroom. The teacher tried to reason with him. “Mr. Reed, please, they’re just children. It’s normal for them to have little squabbles.” “She did something wrong, and she has to pay the price. Skylar Reed, come inside with me.” I sniffled, following Daddy’s footsteps. He interrupted the teacher who was giving a lesson. He made me apologize to Bethany in front of all my classmates. I looked at Bethany, who he held in his arms. She was wearing a new hairpin on her head. It was even prettier than the last one. I knew it must have been another gift from my daddy. And I, I was wearing old clothes. My hair was messy, and I looked a complete wreck. No, I couldn’t be like this. I couldn’t embarrass Mom. I wiped the tears from my face and said, “I’m sorry.” “Louder.” Daddy’s voice was cold and indifferent, nothing like the tenderness he used when speaking to Bethany. “I’M SORRY!” “What did you do wrong?” He looked at me, like a judge, not my father. “I’M SORRY! BETHANY HASTINGS! I shouldn’t have snatched your things! I was wrong! Please forgive me!” After I said it, the tears wouldn’t stop anymore. I burst into loud sobs. Daddy frowned, about to scold me, but the teacher noticed something was wrong and came to hug me. And I, I just saw black, and fell backward. Before my eyes closed, I saw my daddy’s impatient expression. He was still holding Bethany. He didn’t want to come over and check on me at all. 6 I woke up in the hospital. The doctor said I was malnourished and needed an IV drip. Daddy was very unhappy. “Is this how your mother takes care of you?” He kept calling Mom, but she didn’t answer a single call. He was furious. He asked me, “What has your mother been doing at home lately?” I thought about it, not daring to tell the truth. “Mommy cooks for me every day, takes me out to play, buys me new clothes. She’s very good to me, Daddy, please don’t scold her anymore.” “Lying at such a young age. Your mother has really ruined you.” He told Mr. Davies, his assistant, “Go back to the house, bring Eleanor Montgomery here. I want to see how she’s raising our daughter.” Mr. Davies was about to leave when Daddy received a call from Aunt Serena. “Richard, where are you? Come back quickly, Bethany has a fever, she’s calling for her daddy!” Daddy was in a hurry. He called out to Mr. Davies. “Give me the car keys. You can take a taxi to send her home.” Then, he was about to leave. “Daddy…” I called out to him. He paused for a second. “Skylar, you go home first, listen to Mr. Davies. Daddy will come find you in a couple of days.” He was lying. He would never come find me. Mr. Davies took me home. He didn’t come inside. After I got home, I ran into the house to find Mom. Mom was still asleep. She really slept a lot. The Mom I knew before wasn’t like this. She rarely rested; she was either cleaning the house, playing with me, or taking care of Daddy. Every night, I would also beg her to tell me a story. Daddy would always squeeze in and say, “I’ll tell her. You’ve had a long day, go to sleep.” “No need, I’ll do it.” “Sweetheart, be a good girl, go rest.” Daddy would kiss her. Mom would push him away, glance at me, and say, “Our daughter is watching!” “What’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with me kissing my own wife?” Mom could never argue with him, and would always blush and run off. After Mom left, Daddy would put on a stern face. He would poke my nose, deliberately scaring me, saying, “Skylar, don’t you dare bully my wife, you hear?” But I knew Daddy wouldn’t actually hurt me. I would giggle, bury myself in his arms, and say, “Daddy, tell me a story! Daddy, tell me a story!” He would laugh too, holding me, and say, “What do you want to hear? Daddy will tell you.” Accompanied by Daddy’s gentle voice, I would soon fall asleep. It had been a very, very long time since I heard Daddy tell me stories. Now, even Mom didn’t tell me stories. I hugged Mom’s arm. There was a strange smell on her, like the smell I sometimes caught when passing by a garbage truck. I kept calling her, crying, my voice growing louder and louder. I cried until I was tired, and then I fell asleep. When I woke up, Mom still hadn’t woken up. Mommy, you’re really so sleepy.

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1 After I was blacklisted, I agreed to my ex-boyfriend’s demand. I would be a nude body double for his mistress, mimicking an adult film actress. One part of me was numb, the other grateful. The money would clear tomorrow, and my mother’s respirator wouldn’t have to be shut off. The third scene ended, and laughter erupted from behind the cameras. “Layla’s wiggling so seductively. Must have practiced a lot in bed, huh?” My spine stiffened instantly. Roman Thorne, from behind me, couldn’t resist a mocking remark. “That’s about the only thing her ‘wildness’ is worth money for.” Humiliation washed over me. Then, he casually added, “That fifty million will be transferred in another six months.” I turned back, terrified. “Didn’t we agree it would be paid as soon as the shoot finished?” Without that money, the hospital would pull the plug tomorrow. Roman Thorne indifferently tossed the script. “The liquid funds were invested in a big production for his new discovery, Clara. It’s her first lead role, so the grandiosity has to be perfect.” He expected me to throw a fit, to beg and plead as I had in the past. But this time, I was genuinely exhausted. … “Are you going out like that?” Roman Thorne raised an eyebrow, eyeing my thin costume, then glanced at the camera. I knew he was reminding me that the crew was all outside. But I had just been paraded, in far more humiliating scenes, in front of a live audience. What else was there left that I couldn’t face? I walked out numbly. Roman Thorne grabbed my wrist. “Can’t you show some decency?” I turned back to him, calmly. “Have you ever given me any decency?” He fell silent. We both knew the truth. From the moment he picked me up from film school at nineteen, he had elevated me to superstardom, earning me countless awards, making me shine with unparalleled glory. He said he loved my pride, loved the spirited way I stood at the pinnacle of success. But when my family faced bankruptcy, he was the first to turn his back. All because Clara, a budding new starlet, had whimpered, “Roman, Layla’s looking at me… I’m scared.” He had personally broken my wings, dragged me down from the clouds, and trampled me into the dirt. Seven years of devotion, yet it couldn’t stand against a newcomer’s few tears. He had broken up with me seven times, each time because Clara needed a better opportunity. Even now, knowing my mother lay in the ICU, with daily expenses that were astronomical, he remained utterly indifferent. My eyes suddenly stung with unshed tears. “How much did you invest in that film?” He answered casually. “Five hundred million.” Five hundred million. My heart felt like it was being cruelly squeezed, making it impossible to breathe. I only needed fifty million. A mere fraction of that five hundred million would be enough to save my mother’s life. Seven years with him, and I was worth less than the pomp and circumstance of Clara’s new film. Roman Thorne had always been absolute with me. He said six months; even if I died here and now, he wouldn’t change his mind. I stopped arguing, simply opening the studio door. Outside, a few stagehands were laughing, but seeing me, they instantly fell silent. They looked at me awkwardly. Someone finally let out a dry cough. “Layla, all done?” They exchanged knowing glances, then resumed their low laughter. I didn’t argue further, just pushed open the curtain. I came face to face with several corpulent investors. They looked at me awkwardly, and someone whistled. “Layla, the award-winner, are you finished with your shoot?” A burst of raucous laughter followed. Roman Thorne threw an ashtray from inside, shattering it at their feet. Glass shards flew, but I didn’t flinch, a piece cutting my calf. Blood trickled down my skin, yet I felt nothing. Roman Thorne stared intently at my wounded leg, his brow furrowing slightly. After a long moment, he tossed his suit jacket over me, in front of everyone. “I said six months, it’s not like I’m not giving it to you. Who are you putting on this act for, huh?” He didn’t even button it, just draped it casually, for appearances. I stared deeply at the man I had loved for seven years. I always believed that if I was just a little more obedient, a little more humble, he would remember the good in me. People often say that loving someone means feeling their pain, but in his eyes, there was only the cold indifference of someone viewing a plaything. The moment I stepped out of the studio, all the strength drained from my body, my legs trembling uncontrollably. As tears streamed down my face, I heard their excited chatter from inside the door. Someone asked Roman Thorne, “Layla’s family definitely got set up this time, Mr. Thorne. Aren’t you going to do anything?” Roman Thorne’s cool voice replied, “I was the one who set it up. Clara said Layla publicly humiliated her when she first debuted, making her suffer for years. I had to get some revenge for her.” “Aren’t you afraid she won’t come back this time? She’s an award-winning actress after all; she has her pride.” At this, Roman Thorne burst out laughing. “Don’t be silly. I’ve known her for eight years, she’s been with me for seven. When has Layla not come running at my every word? If she could truly leave me, I might even respect her more.” I leaned against the wall, biting down hard on the back of my hand, just to keep from making a sound. My family’s bankruptcy, my complete blacklisting online – it was all Roman Thorne’s doing. Simply because Clara had felt slighted years ago. 2 The wounds on my body and my damp clothes clung together, tearing at my skin with every movement. I remembered my mother, intubated, and the doctor’s warning that if I didn’t pay soon, they would turn off the respirator. I slapped myself hard several times. “You fool. It’s because you fell in love with him that you’ve driven yourself and Mom to such desperation.” I had never imagined my love story would end like this. Thorne Media, Roman’s family company, wielded absolute power in the entertainment industry. Roman Thorne’s single word could decide the fate of any artist. If he was determined to get revenge for Clara, no one in the entire industry would dare help me. I stood on an overpass, utterly broken, watching the ceaseless flow of car lights below, almost tempted to jump. But I couldn’t. What would happen to my mother if I died? “Yes, Clara.” A sudden thought struck me. At an awards ceremony long ago, I was the Best Actress, and she was an obscure newcomer. Backstage, an investor, fueled by alcohol, wouldn’t let go of her hand. I happened to pass by and helped her out of the predicament. At that time, I was giving Roman Thorne the cold shoulder because of rumors linking him to another actress. He hadn’t humored me, instead, he’d given a mocking chuckle, as if to spite me. “Is Layla the only one who does good deeds? That newcomer, Thorne Media is taking over her management contract.” Little did I know, that was the beginning of the tangled web between the three of us. I don’t know when Roman Thorne first took an interest in Clara. He showered her with top-tier resources, hired the best acting coaches, and put her on the hottest variety shows. To protect her from being bullied by industry veterans, he outright bought her an endorsement deal for an entire luxury brand. If Clara ever suffered even the slightest grievance, I didn’t need to ask to know. Because Roman Thorne would preemptively break up with me, then use my resources to atone. He always said, “Clara is innocent; she can’t handle the dirt of this industry.” She couldn’t suffer, so I was the one who had to. I rushed to the club where Clara’s celebration party was being held tonight. But the security guard blocked me at the door. “I’m sorry, Miss Hayes. Mr. Thorne has instructed that no one is to disturb Miss Reed’s enjoyment.” This club used to be a frequent haunt for Roman Thorne and me. Now that I was blacklisted, no one would give me any respect. The cold wind pierced through my body, and my wounds reopened, making my lips tremble with pain. “Let her in.” I looked up. Roman Thorne stood in the doorway, looking down at me. A flicker of pity crossed his eyes, quickly replaced by cold indifference. “Who are you trying to play pitiful for? Don’t you know you’ll get a fever if you get rained on?” That was true; I had a weak constitution and would get a high fever if I got wet. During the best period of my relationship with Roman Thorne, he would always anxiously wrap me in his coat, terrified I would get sick. I lowered my head. “I want to talk to Miss Reed.” Roman Thorne frowned, a faint sneer playing on his lips. “You still haven’t changed, Layla.” He was afraid I would cause trouble for Clara. After all, I had a history. When I first learned Clara often called Roman Thorne in the middle of the night, claiming she was afraid of the dark and couldn’t sleep, I had stormed into her film set and, in front of everyone, thrown her phone into a bucket of water. As the entire crew laughed at Clara, Roman Thorne had walked over and slapped me across the face. All the crew members were stunned. I stuck out my neck, asserting my claim. “You’re my boyfriend, not just any stray cat or dog who can be bothered in the middle of the night.” Roman Thorne just gave me a cold look, then, in front of everyone, shielded the weeping Clara behind him. “Look at you now, what’s the difference between you and a madwoman?!” He left me standing there, being judged by everyone. Clara, as a result, landed a film role I had been negotiating for six months with a major international director. And at that time, he locked me in the basement to “reflect.” Clara cried for how many days, I was locked up for that many days. Not a drop of water. Roman Thorne had to coax her for an entire week before he came home. He was also worried she would be affected by public opinion, so he bought a film company and gave it to her as a gift. I shook my head, forcing out a smile that was uglier than a cry. “I just want to explain to her that we’ve already broken up.” His obvious disbelief still brought a bitter taste to my mouth. I admitted I still loved him. Knowing he was the heir to the Thorne family and had immense self-esteem, I had never defied him. I was always afraid that a single expression or word might hurt him. Yet, I never imagined he would be so merciless towards me. That he would conspire to bankrupt my family and have me blacklisted, all just to appease Clara. I don’t not love him; I simply don’t dare anymore. Once the sense of injustice surfaced in my heart, it spread like a wild vine. Tears fell unbidden. Roman Thorne frowned. “Just talk, why are you crying…” He was about to raise his hand when a figure rushed out from inside the club. Clara, wearing a haute couture gown, with exquisite makeup and a body adorned with jewelry, exuded an air of wealth. She was completely different from the timid newcomer she used to be. More like a queen held in Roman Thorne’s palm than I ever was. “Why did you come out?” Roman Thorne took off his jacket, intimately draping it over her bare shoulders, asking tenderly. She looked up, and the moment her eyes reddened, Roman Thorne was thrown into disarray, bending down to gently console her. “What’s wrong? Who upset our Clara?” Only then did Clara’s tears turn to a smile. She gently punched Roman Thorne, whispering, “I heard Layla was here, so I came out to see.” “Now you’ve seen her, are you satisfied?” He asked Clara, but his gaze was fixed on me. I guessed the answer was yes, she was satisfied. The award-winning actress who had once helped her out at an awards ceremony was now in tattered clothes, her hair disheveled and plastered to her face. She was as pathetic as one could be. How could she possibly be dissatisfied? I actually wanted to confront her, but I didn’t dare. After all, if I angered Clara, Mom wouldn’t even have her respirator for a few more days. I forced myself to put on an ingratiating smile. “Clara, long time no see.” She, however, was much more familiar than I was. “Layla, you didn’t really have to come in person. I’ve already forgiven you.” I looked up at her. Forgiven me? Forgiven me for throwing away her phone when she was trying to seduce someone else’s boyfriend, or forgiven me for blocking her path in the entertainment industry? For a moment, I couldn’t tell, just stared at her blankly. Roman Thorne, however, suddenly flared up. “Clara is a generous person. Shouldn’t you say thank you?” Heart-wrenching pain. That was it. I fiercely held back my tears. Three words swirled on my tongue. I bit my tongue until it bled, the metallic taste spreading in my mouth before I could stutter them out. “Tha… thank you…” Roman Thorne’s gaze shifted from me. He pulled out a black card and handed it to Clara. “Here’s fifty million. You decide if you want to give it to her.” My eyes immediately lit up. If I could just get this money, my mom would be saved. I looked at Clara with hopeful eyes, but watched as she slowly tightened her grip on the card. Clara pouted delicately. “Layla caused me to be ridiculed by the whole crew back then, and almost caused a misunderstanding with Roman. I don’t want to just give it to her like that.” Roman Thorne chuckled, gently flicking her nose with his finger. “Whatever you wish.” I instantly panicked. Mom was waiting for this money to save her life, and all my savings had gone to filling the holes in our family’s finances. Now I was penniless, constantly surrounded by paparazzi and creditors. Mom’s heart wasn’t strong; she had ended up in the ICU after a scare. The last shred of hope was right in front of me. I pleaded, “Clara, I’m sorry. I’ll accept any punishment. Please, help me.” Clara thought for a moment, tapping her chin with her finger, then suddenly said playfully, “How about this, Layla? You dance that ‘dog crawl’ dance you did on set for me right here, and I’ll give you the card, okay?” She smiled sweetly, but her words were more venomous than a snake. “The one where you crawl on the ground like a little dog. Lots of people said you danced it especially well.” Roman Thorne still said nothing. He stood with his hands behind his back beside Clara, as if endorsing all her actions. “Not willing, huh…” she sighed regretfully, about to put the card back in her bag. I immediately panicked. “I’m willing!” As soon as those words left my mouth, she smiled radiantly. Her eyes curved into crescents, her chin slightly raised as if waiting for me to act. I glanced at the indifferent Roman Thorne, and slowly bent my body. It was just a simple movement, yet I felt as if I had been killed a thousand times. Thump. My knees and palms hit the cold floor. I collapsed onto it, my fingernails digging hard into my palms, my hands trembling. “Woof… woof…” I barked like a dog, crawling in front of them. Humiliation made my vision blacken. Clara smiled with satisfaction, then stamped her foot. “Oh, Layla, I was just joking with you, you actually did it.” I didn’t move, still prostrate before them. “Ugh…” Clara sighed, then threw the card in front of me. I reached out and picked it up, tears falling one by one onto the embossed card. Mom could be saved. Roman Thorne, I don’t dare to love anymore. I stood up, softly saying, “Thank you.” Roman Thorne’s face seemed to darken. He brushed off Clara’s clinging hand and walked inside. “Roman…” she called out, but Roman Thorne didn’t look back. Clara glared at me, annoyed. “Aren’t you leaving?” I got up and left the club. Behind me, Clara vexed for a while. Then her friends who had returned from abroad emerged, exclaiming in surprise, “Clara, so you really are Roman Thorne’s girlfriend! His family is top-tier elite in the city!” The earlier unpleasantness vanished. Clara proudly lifted her chin. “I told you, but you didn’t believe me.” The girls grew excited, but then one asked, “That Layla just now, she seemed to have quite a relationship with Roman. You just gave her fifty million? Isn’t that too cheap for her?” Clara’s eyes darkened, and a smile played on her lips. “Who said that money was given for free? I’ve already had someone anonymously send the video to all the major media outlets.” “What video?” Clara smiled. “Nothing, just a little video of the award-winning actress Layla… crawling like a dog at the club entrance. That’s all.” I left the club, racing to the hospital. Once Mom had her surgery, I would take her to another city, to start a new life. As for Roman Thorne, this was the end for us.

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I was the bait for our apocalypse survival squad. My brother had awakened a lightning ability, and my sister possessed a pocket dimension. I alone was powerless, my only talent being that I could outrun a zombie, if only by a fraction. Before the next horde of the undead arrived, I pleaded with Mom and Dad, begging them not to send me out to lure them this time. Mom and Dad pointed to the “safe house” they’d marked on the map, reassuring me. But when we reached the spot, my brother and sister cheered at the sight of the horde swirling around the house. I hid in the barren basement, shivering uncontrollably. When hunger finally made my head spin, I pushed open the cellar door, only to find no living breath outside. I picked up the walkie-talkie, and a voice crackled through: “Decoy deployed successfully, main team has withdrawn.” Only then did I realize I was nothing but a living shield of flesh. 1 Static. The crackle on the walkie-talkie hadn’t ceased. That chilling phrase, “Decoy deployed successfully,” hit me like a physical slap, stinging my face. The cellar was pitch black, truly, utterly dark. I felt my stomach; it was hollow. Three days. I’d survived on moldy potato skins for three days. Outside, guttural moans filled the air, punctuated by the scrape of nails on wood – a sound that grated like chalk on a blackboard, setting my teeth on edge. My name is Laila. Just as my old name suggested, I was soft-hearted, and my life, worthless. Three months into the apocalypse, I had become the family’s “full-time decoy.” My brother, Quinn, with his lightning ability, was the family’s bedrock. My sister, Rowan, with her spatial power, was our mobile storage unit. Mom and Dad handled logistics. And I? I was just the live target, the one who could “run a little faster.” “Laila, darling,” my mother used to say, “your brother is your only protector, and your sister manages our food supply. For the good of this family, what’s a little run?” This time, the horde was unprecedented in scale. They told me there was a safe house ahead. If I could just draw the bulk of the horde away, they could get inside, set up traps, and be secure for good. I believed them. Instead, I found myself locked in this basement, where only rats found refuge. They, however, drove off in their modified SUV, foot to the floor, speeding towards a true sanctuary. Leaving every single undead monster to me. The doorboards began to give. The stench of decay seeped through the cracks. I didn’t cry. Tears were water, and in this hellhole, every drop of water was life itself. I tightened my grip on the rusted steel pipe. It was my only weapon. BANG! A gap splintered open in the cellar door. A pale, grey hand snaked through, its nails like daggers. I didn’t scream. In the grip of absolute terror, a person often finds their voice seized. My mind echoed only one phrase: “Main team has withdrawn.” Withdrawn? Where to? That “Paradise Sanctuary” marked in red on the map? Two hundred miles from here. I laughed. The laugh tore at my chapped lips, drawing tiny beads of blood. The scent of blood seemed to excite whatever was outside. With a splintering CRACK. The flimsy wooden door shattered completely. A dozen pairs of sickly green eyes squeezed into the doorway. I should have died. By all rights, a pushover like me should have been ripped to shreds in a second. But just as the first zombie lunged. My world… slowed. Not metaphorically. It truly, literally slowed. The grotesque fangs, the spraying saliva, even the dust motes dancing in the air. Everything moved at half-speed. Instinctively, I dodged sideways. The sure-kill lunge brushed past my clothes, missing entirely. The zombie slammed into the wall, its skull rupturing. I froze. I stared at my hands. A strange heat pulsed through my limbs, tingling everywhere. Hunger. Not the hunger in my stomach. It was my cells roaring, craving energy. I looked at the dead zombie. Inside its ruptured skull was a small, glittering object. A core. My brother always forbade me from touching these when he killed zombies, claiming a normal person like me would explode if I did. Driven by an impulse I couldn’t explain, I picked it up. Wiped it clean, then swallowed it. BOOM! Something erupted inside my head. The warm current transformed into a raging hurricane. I heard it. The SUV’s engine, two hundred miles away. I smelled it. The savory aroma of stewed meat from my sister’s pocket dimension. And my parents’ false laughter. “Finally rid of that dead weight,” that was Mom’s voice. “The extra rations will last us days.” “She only survived this long because she could run fast,” my brother added. “Good riddance. A waste, but at least we got some use out of her.” I closed my eyes, then opened them again. Darkness, to me, was now as bright as day. I stepped over the corpses on the ground and walked out of the cellar. The horde outside instantly turned their heads toward me. Hundreds of them. A squirming mass. If this were before, I would have wet myself. But now, looking at them, I just felt… They were too slow. Slow as snails. I stretched my neck, my bones crackling with sharp pops. “Decoy deployed successfully?” I murmured to the empty street. “Then are you ready to face the hunter?” 2 I sprinted across the desolate wilderness. The wind, once a biting whip, now felt like a gentle caress on my face. Two hundred miles. Four hours by car, given the rough roads. I made it in a single night. My shoe soles were shredded, yet my feet were without a single blister. Dawn was just breaking. I spotted the familiar SUV. It was parked beside a dilapidated roadside diner and rest stop. Sprayed across its side was my brother’s obnoxious team name: “The Stormbringers.” A perimeter of zombie repellent powder had been liberally scattered around them. Such luxury. I’d risked my life to snatch that from a pharmacy, nearly losing my throat to a Licker in the process. Now, they used it like mosquito coils. I didn’t charge in directly. Though my speed was immense, I still wasn’t sure of the full extent of my newfound “ability.” My brother’s lightning, my sister’s stocked dimension, and my parents’ silver tongues that could twist black into white. I had to be cautious. I climbed a withered, skeletal tree. My vision was unnaturally sharp; through the tinted windows, I could make out every detail inside. They were eating breakfast. A self-heating meal. Steaming hot, the rich sauce bubbling. Rowan picked up a piece of processed meat, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “More lunch meat? I crave fresh vegetables.” Mom quickly soothed her, “Be a good girl, Rowan. Once we reach Paradise Sanctuary, I’ll grow you all the vegetables you want. Your space keeps things fresh, doesn’t it? Just save some for later.” Dad picked at his teeth, “Good thing we didn’t bring Laila. Otherwise, we’d have to share a sip of this soup with her.” My brother scoffed, “Give her soup? A waste. Her scrawny frame could survive on water alone.” I sat on the tree branch, listening without a flicker of expression. That gnawing hunger surged within me again. Not for their meal. No… I craved flesh. Living flesh. The thought startled even me the moment it surfaced. I touched my canine teeth. They seemed… sharper, longer? Just then, commotion stirred at the other end of the rest stop. A lone zombie shuffled, swaying, towards them. Drawn by the scent of their meal. Quinn frowned, setting down his fork. “How irritating.” He raised his hand, a violet arc of electricity crackling in his palm. ZZZZT! The zombie hadn’t even gotten close before it was incinerated into charcoal. “My boy is amazing!” Mom clapped. “Your ability is getting so powerful!” Quinn proudly blew on his fingertips. “Of course. I’m a Level Two ability user now.” Level Two? I narrowed my eyes. The zombie’s core hadn’t been extracted yet. I moved. Like a whisper of wind. Before they could even react, I had already swept past the charred corpse. With a flick of my fingers, the dull grey core landed in my palm. Then, I was back in the shadows behind the tree. The entire sequence took less than two seconds. “Huh?” Quinn rubbed his eyes. “Did something just… pass by?” “What are you talking about?” Rowan rolled her eyes. “It was just the wind. Are you seeing things, Quinn? You must be exhausted.” Dad cautiously scanned our surroundings. “Stop being paranoid. Eat quickly, then we hit the road.” Hidden behind the tree, I popped the still-warm core into my mouth. It crunched. Like a candy drop. Another wave of warmth flooded through my body. I felt my hearing sharpen even further. I could even discern the rhythm of Rowan’s heartbeat. And in her pocket dimension… the rustling of stacked supplies. So, it wasn’t just speed. I could “sense” things. My gaze fixed on the pendant around Rowan’s neck. The conduit for her spatial ability. And one of my targets. Since you called me dead weight, I’ll show you what true “heavy lifting” looks like. I picked up a pebble from the ground. Aiming for the SUV’s rear tire. With a powerful flick of my finger. PHUT— A muffled thud. The SUV lurched violently downwards. “Damn it! A flat tire?!” Quinn swore, scrambling out of the vehicle. The show had begun. 3 “What the hell happened? These are run-flat tires!” Quinn crouched by the wheel, staring at the finger-sized hole, utterly bewildered. “Did you run over a nail?” Mom fretted, wringing her hands. “Out here in the middle of nowhere, how are we supposed to change a tire?” “Where’s the spare?” Dad demanded. Rowan’s face went pale. “The spare… I tossed it out to make room for those designer bags.” The air hung heavy, thick with silence for three excruciating seconds. “You threw out the spare for bags?!” Quinn roared, his voice cracking. “What time do you think it is? Can those bags feed us? Can they get us out of here?” Rowan’s eyes welled up with tears of indignation. “But they were limited edition! I could never get them before! Besides, who knew a run-flat tire could burst anyway?” “Alright, alright, stop fighting!” Dad intervened, trying to be the peacemaker. “Rowan just wants us to live comfortably later. Quinn, you’re an ability user, surely you can figure something out.” “What am I supposed to do? I control lightning, not wrenches!” Quinn, frustrated, kicked the car door. Watching from the tree, I almost burst out laughing. So much for the “elite squad.” No spare tire meant they either abandoned the SUV or tried to patch it up, desperate. But this was a rest stop. A favorite gathering spot for the undead. The muffled pop of the tire, though not loud, would carry far in the silent wasteland. In the distance, faint yet distinct, came the sound of many footsteps. “Damn it, a horde!” Quinn’s face tightened, his ears twitching. “Quick! Grab what you can and run!” Rowan frantically began stuffing things into her pocket dimension. The car, the tent, the half-eaten self-heating meal… “Stop grabbing junk! Get the weapons! The water!” Quinn roared. It was then that I struck again. I aimed for Rowan’s wrist. WHIZZ! A pebble shot forth. Striking her nerve point dead on. “Agh!” Rowan shrieked, her hand spasming. The several cases of bottled water she was trying to store vanished from her grip, clattering to the ground and rolling everywhere. “My hand! My hand is numb!” She clutched her wrist, sobbing uncontrollably. “Stop wailing! They’re here!” Dozens of zombies burst forth from the rest stop buildings. Clad in tattered uniforms, their faces dripping with decaying flesh. “Quinn! Hold them off!” Dad pushed my brother forward, while pulling Mom back. Quinn gritted his teeth, unleashing lightning from both hands. “Lightning Net!” Several bolts of electricity arced out, felling the first few zombies. But the ones behind simply trampled over their fallen comrades, surging forward. And among them, this time, was one that was different. It crawled on all fours, its tongue disturbingly long, dragging on the ground. A Licker. The very kind that had almost ripped out my throat. It fixed its gaze on Rowan, seemingly sensing the vibrant warmth of her living flesh. ROAR! The Licker lunged. Blindingly fast, a crimson blur. Quinn’s lightning missed. “Rowan! Watch out!” Mom shrieked. Rowan froze, petrified, even forgetting to retreat into her dimension. Just as that long, horrid tongue was about to coil around Rowan’s neck. I dropped from the tree. Not to save her. But to steal her kill. This Licker’s core looked promising. I descended like a hawk, plummeting from the sky. My steel pipe, fueled by the force of my descent, plunged with chilling precision into the Licker’s hind brain. SPLAT. Black blood sprayed. The Licker didn’t even manage a whimper, nailed dead to the ground. I planted one foot on its head, yanked out the pipe, and swiftly dug out the core. My movements were fluid, seamless, too quick for the eye to follow. The air around us fell silent, instantly. The lightning in Quinn’s hands sputtered out. Rowan’s mouth hung open, tears still streaking her face. Mom and Dad stared, eyes wide, as if they’d seen a ghost. I slowly lifted my head, shaking the blood from the steel pipe. And offered them a radiant smile. “Hello, family.” “Surprised? Unexpected?” “A ghost… a ghost!” Mom was the first to react, her eyes rolling back as she swayed, about to faint. Dad fumbled to steady her, his whole body trembling. “La… Laila? You’re not…” “Dead?” I finished for him, toying with the blood-slicked core in my hand. “Disappointing, isn’t it? The Grim Reaper apparently found me too fast to catch.”

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I was heading to the bakery to buy my own birthday cake when I spotted her, the girl they raised as their own, selling cakes by the roadside. Sienna, the one who’d been cast out years ago for orchestrating a car accident to prevent me from reclaiming my life. “Buy a cake, please. It’ll help me afford dinner.” I carried the rather ugly cake home, only for Mom and Dad and my brother to recognize it instantly as Sienna’s creation. “You bought Sienna’s cake? Is she doing alright now?” “Not really.” Hearing my answer, the three of them immediately grabbed car keys and rushed out. “If you hadn’t suddenly decided to come back, Sienna wouldn’t have lost control and made that mistake. She deserves a chance to atone.” I lit my birthday candle, blew it out, and made a wish. “Happy Birthday, Nora. May your trauma therapy go smoothly this year.” … The candle went out. The room plunged into dimness. I fumbled my way through, relying on memory, but accidentally knocked my knee against the corner of the table. Fortunately, ever since the day I returned, Mom and Dad and Adam had carefully padded every sharp corner with thick tape, afraid I might get hurt. I’d come home covered in scars, the abuse and the car accident leaving permanent marks on my body. The light flickered on. I saw the crisscrossing scars on my wrists, left from… my previous home. The cake was hideous, with “Happy Birthday” scrawled haphazardly across it. It tasted terrible. Sienna wasn’t a baker; her customers were few. If her plea hadn’t stopped me, she likely wouldn’t have had a single sale today. I took a deep breath, then tossed the cake into the trash. This year, I turned eighteen. I’d been undergoing trauma therapy for five years. Mom and Dad and Adam didn’t know. I was found when I was thirteen. Half-dead, I reached for a shard of a beer bottle, intending to swallow it. I didn’t want to live anymore. Ever since my foster parents picked me up, if I didn’t beg for at least three hundred dollars a day, I’d be brutally beaten. They wanted me to look pathetic the next day so people would give me more money. “Two hundred and sixty-nine dollars.” My foster mother’s hands were still wet with saliva as she counted the coins, one by one. Hearing that number, my face went pale with terror, and I cowered in the corner. “I tried my best… no one gives much money now. They say I’m up to no good.” I stammered, still remembering the words they’d said during the day. “Kids this age should be in school, shouldn’t they? Probably wants money for a gaming cafe or something.” “These days, kids are so rebellious. She probably just wants pocket money.” No one gave me money. Truly, no one. “Then you’re not pathetic enough. You can’t make people pity you.” My foster father stood up, and the ash from his cigarette fell onto my neck. I flinched from the burn. But dared not move. “I… I’ll get more money tomorrow, please don’t hit me…” I knelt, bowing my head repeatedly until it bled. My foster father scoffed, chugging the last half of the beer. Then he brought the bottle crashing down on my head. The world spun, and familiar pain spread across my forehead. I touched it; it was slick with blood. The beer bottle shattered. My foster parents cursed. “If we don’t make a few more cuts, how will she get more money? She’s asking for it.” “Picking her up was just a way to make money. Otherwise, she’d be dead already!” The stench of stale beer mingled with blood, filling the entire room. I made the bravest decision I could think of at that moment. I picked up a shard of the broken bottle, intending to swallow it. “What are you doing!” The door was kicked open. I saw police officers, and four elegantly dressed people standing at the entrance. All of them, except for the girl, looked at me with heartbreaking concern. “My daughter! My poor daughter!” The woman rushed forward, embracing me. My blood stained her beautiful clothes. I felt her entire body tremble. “Mommy came too late, darling. Mommy came too late, that’s why you suffered so much. How much pain have you endured…” Adam punched my foster father, knocking out a tooth. “How dare you bully my sister! Is my sister, Nora Song, someone to be messed with? How many lives do you have to pay?” Adam’s eyes were bloodshot. Dad spoke to the police, his voice firm. “Make sure they pay for this. She is a Song, my daughter.” I snapped back to reality. Staring blankly at the cake in the trash. Perhaps after five years, their guilt had long faded. Mom, Dad, and Adam still brought Sienna back. They looked at Sienna with tender pity, just as they had once looked at me. “You’ve truly suffered, Sienna. You should have contacted us sooner.” Mom cried, her heart aching. “You were my sister for over a decade. How could I abandon you?” Adam’s face was serious. “I won’t let anyone who bullied you get away with it.” Dad led them through the door, speaking with conviction. Then, all three noticed me sitting at the dining table. They froze. I smiled. “You’re back.” Their faces changed instantly. They stared at me as if I were a wild beast, frozen, not daring to step forward. “Nora, I’m home.” Sienna took a step closer first, spotting the cake in the trash. She didn’t seem angry; she just smiled. “Did you like the cake?” Mom, Dad, and Adam also saw it, their voices tinged with reproach. “Sienna made that cake for you, how could you just throw it away? Are you still holding a grudge over what happened five years ago? Didn’t we move past that already? Why do you keep dwelling on it?” Mom murmured, confused by my actions. “It was terrible.” I stated plainly, my expression blank, wanting to leave. “Even if it tasted bad, you should have eaten it. It was Sienna’s gesture.” Mom sighed, and they all looked at me with disappointment. As if I was the unreasonable one. But I’d paid for that cake; it wasn’t a gesture from her. I didn’t say anything, just stood up and went to my room. I heard them talking about me behind my back, comforting Sienna. “Don’t mind Nora. She might still be upset, but her feelings don’t matter. Sienna has to come home; she can’t suffer anymore.” “How can she still hold a grudge after all these years? Besides, Sienna was punished too; it’s even.” “Sienna, go take a hot shower. Tomorrow we’ll take you shopping for clothes.” Their voices were filled with excitement. I quietly walked to my bed. And pulled up the leg of my pants. It was my prosthetic leg. That car accident had condemned me to prosthetics for life. They didn’t know. Because that day at the hospital, they personally saw Sienna off. No one came to see me. So they never knew that my leg was artificial. The next day, I went for my trauma therapy. “You still have severe trauma responses to the car accident and your childhood,” the doctor told me, frowning. “Are Mr. and Mrs. Song not treating you well?” I opened my eyes, my body drenched in sweat, my face still bloodless. Those past events clung to me like ghosts. “They are,” I replied. But it was only “better” than my foster parents. I didn’t know what “truly good” felt like, but they provided me with food and warm clothes. “You still need extensive therapy. It’s crucial to avoid cars as much as possible and try not to dwell on those negative memories, otherwise, you’ll continue to experience trauma responses.” The doctor sighed. “Should I inform Mr. and Mrs. Song? They still don’t know you’re undergoing therapy. Perhaps if they knew, they could offer more protection.” “No need.” I put on my jacket. “I don’t want them to feel guilty because of this.” Especially now that they’d welcomed Sienna back. I stepped outside. “Why did you hurt Nora? She’s suffered enough already, and you still try to bully her.” Mom shoved Sienna to the ground. “Send her away. Otherwise, I’m afraid she’ll hurt Nora again.” Dad’s face was etched with disappointment, unmoved by Sienna’s pleas. Adam held my hand, comforting me repeatedly. “Nora, it was my fault that you got lost back then. Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone bully you ever again.” But five years. In five years, they’d brought Sienna back and accused me of holding grudges. As I was lost in thought, a car sped past me, too close, too fast. Instantly, I broke into a cold sweat, collapsing to the ground. Because of my aversion to cars, I always walked everywhere, and even the sound of a vehicle made me tremble. This road was usually deserted; cars rarely passed. “Hahaha, look how scared you are! You’re the Song family heiress now, but you’re still such a coward.” Sienna stepped out of the car, dressed in a leather jacket. She took off her sunglasses and looked at me, utterly devoid of the fear and pity she’d shown yesterday. “You know why, so why pretend?” I struggled to my feet, my prosthetic leg chafing painfully against my thigh. Sienna scoffed. “So what? You probably don’t know, do you? When they kicked me out, they actually slipped me a ten-million-dollar card. They were afraid I’d suffer, saying if I didn’t live well, they’d take me back.” My face instantly turned ashen, my nails digging into my palms. “What did you say?” The punishment I thought she received was merely a show for me.

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Serena, my boyfriend Jake’s junior intern, boasted about delivering babies with one hand. Her attempt failed disastrously—she screamed at the mother’s exposed abdomen, covering her face in horror: “Her anatomy is different! Textbooks never mentioned this!” I rushed to the hospital at midnight and saved the mother. Serena faced public outrage and heavy consequences. Jake wanted to defend her, but I stopped him: “Back her now, and you’ll lose your Young Investigator award—and the internet will tear you apart.” Overwhelmed by abuse, Serena drowned herself, leaving a note soaked in her own blood, accusing Jake of betrayal. He burned it in silence. Years later, Jake became a top medical scholar. During my labor, he operated—with one hand. Glaring at my unhealed womb, he dangled the bloody baby at my face: “See? One-handed delivery works. Why did you crush Serena? If I’d backed her then, she’d be where I am now!” He threw the infant to the floor. Consumed by rage and despair, I died with my child. Reawakening, I found Jake fiercely defending Serena—oblivious that her victim was the sister of a ruthless tycoon whose vendetta would destroy him. … The moment I realized I was back to the day Serena was showing off her one-handed delivery, I immediately switched off my phone. I slept straight through until morning. The next day, when I turned on my phone, sure enough, there were 99+ missed calls. In my previous life, Serena, realizing the mess she’d made, had called me late that night, begging me to clean it up. Despite having just finished three surgeries and barely getting an hour of sleep, I had rushed back to the hospital through a snowstorm, operating from dusk till dawn. I saved both the mother and the baby. Because of this, the mother’s brother, the head of A-City’s top conglomerate, didn’t punish Serena severely. He merely ensured she received the appropriate disciplinary action. If Serena had just endured that period, she might have continued her career and even thrived. But she had been coddled by my boyfriend, Jake, since childhood and had never known hardship. Faced with a deluge of online abuse, she simply jumped into the river. When I arrived at the hospital, Serena was slumped on the floor outside the operating room, weeping. My colleagues were frantic, their scrubs stained with blood. “It’s all your fault! Your hands were shaking, but you just had to try that one-handed stunt!” “Just because Director Thorne brought you in, you think you can do whatever you want?!” “Now look what’s happened! We can barely keep the patient alive. She’ll die if this goes on much longer! If her brother finds out, none of us who were involved in this surgery will ever work again!” The “beep-beep” of alarming medical equipment echoed from inside the operating room. My colleagues collapsed onto the floor, their faces ghostly pale. “It’s over… it’s all over…” A newly arrived colleague burst into tears. “Why wasn’t Dr. Armitage on call last night? If she had been here, she would have found a way…” “It’s truly hopeless now…” Serena looked up, and the moment she saw me, her eyes lit up. “It’s her!” She pointed at me. “I was calling her all night! But I couldn’t get through! It’s not us who killed the patient! It’s her, who could have saved her but deliberately switched off her phone!” Everyone turned their heads sharply to look at me. “Dr. Armitage!” “Dr. Armitage, did you really switch off your phone on purpose?” “Of course!” Serena stood up, pulling out her phone to show everyone the 99 missed calls she’d made to me. Her eyes red, she walked towards me, step by step. “Dr. Armitage, this is a matter of life and death. Which of us doctors doesn’t keep their phone on 24/7? “You knew there was a C-section scheduled for last night, and you’re the most capable person in OB/GYN. “To switch off your phone at such a critical moment, Lily Armitage, what were your intentions?!” “Slap!” A sudden, sharp slap landed on her face. I looked down at her. “Serena, have you lost your mind?” Other department colleagues heard the commotion and rushed to the scene. I snapped, my voice sharp. “The on-call schedule clearly states that you were scheduled for surgery last night, not me! “Yes, I didn’t notice my phone was out of battery, but the person truly responsible for this surgery is Dr. Brooks, who signed the on-call sheet!” Serena’s face paled. “When a life is at stake, what does ‘on-call’ or ‘not on-call’ matter? Your phone is never off, except last night. “Ha, Lily Armitage, it’s fine if you target me, but you can’t gamble with a human life!” She spoke with such righteous indignation that some uninformed patients began to speculate that I had deliberately skipped out on my shift, leaving the mess for Serena, a newcomer. All just to see her fail and make a fool of herself. But before I could speak, a colleague couldn’t hold back. “Serena, shut your mouth! Do you have any idea Dr. Armitage did three major surgeries back-to-back yesterday? She only managed to grab two bites of bread and a sip of glucose water in between!” “Exactly! You spend your time in the office with the AC on, and we have to cover your rounds. How would you know how hard Dr. Armitage works?!” “She didn’t get home until midnight yesterday. Is it really that strange to forget to charge your phone after a whole day, then just crash into bed?!” The family members of the patient I saved yesterday also chimed in. “Besides, Dr. Armitage fulfilled her responsibilities during her working hours. Last night was simply not her shift!” All the onlookers suddenly understood. Even the colleagues who had assisted Serena in the surgery couldn’t stand it anymore. “Alright, Dr. Brooks, last night was indeed not within Dr. Armitage’s responsibilities. We can only blame our bad luck.” Serena stumbled and fell to the floor. Her lips were white. “What’s everyone doing here?” The Chief of Staff’s angry roar filled the air. Behind him, Jake, his face grim, strode purposefully towards us. I was about to speak. But he walked right past me. He went directly to Serena, gently helping her to her feet. “It’s okay, I’ll find a way to help you. You’ll be alright.” Under the Chief of Staff’s intimidating gaze, the crowd quickly dispersed. I was called into his office. The moment the door closed, his stern expression vanished, replaced by panic. “Lily! Even though this isn’t your fault, you have to save this patient! “She’s the sister of Preston Thorne. If she dies in our hospital, no one, from top to bottom, including you, will have a place to work anymore!” I sighed. In truth, the reason I dared to turn off my phone was because I knew my colleagues could keep the patient stable. Even if I came after I woke up, there would still be a way to save her. That way, there would be room for negotiation in the subsequent events. I looked at the Chief of Staff. “Today’s incident is not only Serena’s responsibility but also Jake’s.” The Chief of Staff froze. I handed him a document signed by Jake. “Jake personally approved Serena’s one-handed delivery procedure. “We’re taking such a huge risk, all to cover for these two. So, Chief of Staff, I can clean up this mess. “However, Serena isn’t the only one who needs to be punished.” I pressed my hands on the desk. “If Jake isn’t dealt with properly, similar incidents will keep happening. “And I’m not sure I’ll be able to save our hospital then.” The Chief of Staff’s expression grew serious. Jake was his protégé, someone who had followed him since medical school. However, when it came to the hospital’s core interests, even a protégé had to be dealt with. Moreover, he now relied on me to save Preston Thorne’s sister – Nora Thorne. “That scoundrel! He’s gotten so reckless, thinking he can do anything because I promoted him!” He slammed the agreement onto the desk. “Don’t worry! Not only will his upcoming Young Investigator application be rejected by me, but his promotion report will also be killed! “After this, he’ll only be able to do odd jobs at the entry level. He can forget about ever holding a core position in the hospital again!” I curved my lips into a small smile. I signed the agreement. This meant that Jake’s path to soaring from Young Investigator to Fellow, which he had taken in my previous life, was now— Severed. From morning until evening. Nora Thorne’s vital signs gradually returned to normal. The baby’s life was also saved and was being closely monitored in the intensive care unit. My scrubs were soaked with sweat. The moment I stepped out of the operating room, I “thump!” collapsed to the floor. It took a full bottle of glucose given by a colleague before I slowly regained consciousness. My colleagues who had assisted Serena in the surgery earlier cried and clutched my hand. “Thank you, Dr. Armitage. Without you, we really don’t know what we would have done…” “Yes, Preston Thorne is a lunatic. If he knew his sister died on our watch, our families might also…” I comforted my colleagues. Finally, I could leave work and go home for some much-needed rest. As I reached the underground parking garage, footsteps behind me made me spin around. No one… I muttered to myself, then turned and continued walking. Suddenly, everything went black. “Mmph!” I thrashed violently but was still dragged into a dark room. My right hand was forcibly grabbed and pressed onto a table. In the dim light, I vaguely saw the silhouette of the person in front of me. “Jake!” The hand gripping me stiffened. I was tied to a chair, struggling frantically. “Jake! It’s you! I know it’s you, right?! “What do you want? We can talk! I beg you… let me go, I saved Serena’s life!” The person in front of me paused. When he spoke again, it was just a sigh. “No, while you saved her from Preston Thorne’s wrath. “But you ultimately still put her in an unfair and unjust situation. “I’m sorry, if you truly want to help her, you’ll have to lose a hand. “That way, no one will think you performed the surgery, and everyone will believe Serena was the one who turned things around. “I’ll talk to the colleagues. I’ll also delete your surgical records. Lily, this time, please help her.” My eyes widened. “Jake!” The cleaver was raised high. I struggled with all my might. “I’m a doctor! How will I live if I lose my hand?!” The cleaver paused. The dim yellow light illuminated a flicker of reluctance in his eyes. “I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life, Lily.” “Wait!” I shouted. “If you cut off my hand, you won’t be able to be a doctor either!” He shook his head. “Lily, Chief of Staff Lee is my mentor. He won’t let things escalate to that point. “Don’t worry, I’ll be able to stay in the medical field and protect you for life.” “He’s already given up on you!” His body stiffened. He chuckled. “No, he hasn’t.” “Thud!” “Argh!” A heart-wrenching scream. Sweat and tears streamed down my forehead. For a promise to “save her,” Jake was capable of going to such lengths… I couldn’t feel my right hand anymore. I didn’t dare to turn and look. I couldn’t imagine what my right hand had become. “Lily, it’s alright now, it’s alright, shhh…” A towel wrapped around my right hand. Jake kissed my wrist. “Don’t worry, I’ll be by your side for the rest of my life.” I heard my own trembling voice. “Get out…” “Lily…” “Get out of here!” Amidst my violent gasps, Jake released me. “Lily, I’m sorry. “But until the dust settles, I’ll have to keep you here, I’m sorry. “Serena’s reputation cannot be tarnished.” I smiled, tears rolling down my cheeks. “You’re really that afraid of me going out and telling the truth.” “I’m sorry…” The door closed in front of me. The room plunged into complete darkness. My consciousness also faded into chaos.

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For ten years, I’d been working to win over the devoted second male lead, and on our tenth anniversary, he threw me a grand wedding. After we married, Alex doted on me relentlessly, yet a persistent unease gnawed at me. The system’s progress bar for his affection remained stubbornly at zero. It wasn’t until our wedding anniversary that I found a hidden journal in the drawer of his study. It turned out Alex had awakened. He knew this world was a novel, knew I was the villainess, and knew I would harm the heroine, Olivia. To protect his beloved, he had only been pretending to love me. The moment I grasped this horrifying truth, the system’s notification chimed in my mind: “Mission failed. Host will be erased in 48 hours.” 1 I stared at the journal, my hands trembling as I closed it, my mind reeling. All these years, Alex’s gentle care and affection had merely been a charade, a means to keep me under constant surveillance, to prevent me from hurting the woman he truly loved. No wonder, despite his boundless indulgence, the affection progress remained at zero. It had all been an act. My fingertips brushed against Alex’s phone on the desk. After a moment of hesitation, I picked it up to check. Sure enough, I found his secret social media account. Inside were chat logs between him and Owen, the novel’s male lead. From their conversation, it was clear Owen had also awakened, aware that this world was a work of fiction. Owen: “I remember the book saying Amy liked me, always fought with Olivia out of jealousy, and even hired people to bully Olivia, driving her into depression.” “It must be tough, marrying such a wicked woman and pretending to be deeply in love with her.” “But Amy doesn’t seem so bad now, and she’s growing to love you more and more. If she ever finds out the truth about why you married her, she’ll be heartbroken. Are you sure you won’t regret it?” Alex’s reply was calm: “No regrets. As long as Olivia is happy, anything I sacrifice is worth it.” My head spun, a sudden chill spreading through my entire body. I put down the phone and rushed out of the house. Outside, a heavy snow was falling. I walked aimlessly through the streets, unsure how long I wandered until, exhausted, I found a park bench and sank onto it. My mind replayed countless moments with Alex, uncontrollably, and with each memory, the pain in my heart intensified. After an indefinite time, an umbrella suddenly appeared above my head, and a low, familiar voice spoke from above. “I finally found you. Why are you sitting here in the snow, not wearing more? You’ll catch a cold.” I looked up. Alex stood there in a crisp trench coat, his deep eyes filled with concern. His acting was so flawless, I couldn’t tell if it was all a performance or if some genuine worry was mixed in. Seeing my silence, Alex’s brows furrowed deeper. He reached out and touched my cheek and forehead. “You have a fever. Are you feeling awful? Come on, let’s go home.” He forcefully put the umbrella in my hand, then scooped me up into his arms and hurried back home. Once inside, he helped me change into pajamas. “I’ll call the doctor.” I instinctively grabbed his hand. “I’m fine, just a bit chilled. Some ginger tea will do the trick.” Alex’s frown eased slightly when I spoke. “Alright, then I’ll go make you some ginger tea.” Seeing him turn to leave, I tugged at his sleeve again. I looked at him steadily and suddenly asked, “Alex, are you happy being with me?” In the original novel, Alex loved Olivia but couldn’t have her. He would be heartbroken whenever he saw Olivia and Owen together. To protect Olivia, he remained unmarried his entire life. Now that he had awakened, even if he married me only to protect Olivia, I still desperately wanted to know if he had ever been happy, even for a moment, during our four years together. Alex paused, then averted my intense gaze, letting out a small laugh. “Marrying you was my heart’s desire, of course I’m happy. Why the sudden question?” Seeing the evasiveness in his eyes, my heart tightened painfully. He was lying. Yes, how could the devoted second male lead, willing to bind himself to me for life for the sake of the heroine, ever fall for someone else? I released his sleeve and forced a smile. “Just curious, that’s all. Regardless, I hope you can find happiness.” Alex looked puzzled, then smiled and pinched my cheek. “As long as you’re by my side, I’ll be happy. Why are you so strange today? I’ll stop talking and make you ginger tea now, or you’ll truly get sick.” Watching him walk away, the smile on my face slowly vanished, and I lowered my head, feeling utterly forlorn. Even after suddenly learning the truth, I couldn’t bring myself to hate Alex. He didn’t love me, that was true, but he had genuinely been good to me. When the system brought me into this world, this body was only eight years old. Alex and I, in essence, grew up together, like childhood sweethearts. When I was sixteen, I was cornered by bullies in an alley, and he bravely protected me, injuring his arm in the process. At eighteen, my parents divorced and both started new families. No one wanted me. It was Alex who took me home, gently telling me that he could be my new pillar of support. I was an orphan in my real life, unloved by my parents in this world, living a life of pain and suppression. He was the rare warmth I found in my life. Even if the love was fake, his help was real, and for that, I was eternally grateful. A sudden, fierce pang in my chest dragged me back from my painful thoughts. I pressed my hand against my heart, knowing it was the system draining my life force. I murmured to myself, my voice surprisingly calm. “The villainess is dying. For this world, it’s probably a happy ending.” Alex no longer had to live in fear that I would turn evil and hurt his beloved. He also wouldn’t have to sacrifice his life, living a false existence with a woman he didn’t love. The next day, I was woken by agonizing cramps. I struggled to push myself up from the table but nearly fell. Thankfully, Alex, who had just entered the room, caught me in his arms. He saw my pale face and couldn’t help but frown. “You seem quite unwell. This might not just be a cold. I’m taking you to the hospital.” I shook my head. This was the system draining my life. Even at the hospital, they wouldn’t find a cause. Alex held my waist tightly, uncharacteristically firm. “You have to go.” He carried me to the hospital, his brow furrowed with worry the entire way, making me momentarily feel, yet again, that he truly cared for me. While waiting for the doctor, I saw Owen carrying Olivia into the hospital. Olivia’s forehead was covered in cold sweat, and she looked to be in great pain. Alex saw them too. His face immediately changed, and he pulled a nurse aside to ask: “What’s wrong with that young lady?” “Oh, she has sudden gastroenteritis. Her boyfriend is discussing the treatment plan with the doctor.” Alex’s gaze shifted to me. My heart clenched, but I spoke softly. “I’m much better. Go ask about Olivia. She’s my friend too.” Alex looked torn, but finally said: “Alright, her condition seems more serious. I’ll go check. If you need anything, call me, and I’ll come right back.” With that, he hurried toward Olivia. I quietly watched him and Owen fussing over Olivia, their distressed expressions filling me with envy. So this was the heroine’s charm, to captivate both the male lead and the second male lead, making them willing to give her everything. The doctor’s call number pulled me back to reality. I turned and entered the examination room. The result: multiple organ failure. Not long to live. I had anticipated it, but hearing the diagnosis firsthand still brought a wave of sadness. I sat there for a while, lost in thought, then suddenly remembered I had little time left and no one to handle my final arrangements. Alex was so busy, and he didn’t genuinely love me. I wouldn’t bother him with my passing. I hailed a taxi to the crematorium. After choosing a headstone, a staff member approached with a notebook for registration. “What’s the deceased’s name? And what’s your relationship to them?” “Amy. The headstone is for myself.” The staff member looked up, surprised, and gave me an odd look. “You’re so young, and you’re here alone? Where’s your family?” I thought of my parents, who had long disowned me, and my husband, whose heart belonged to another. After a long silence, I softly said, “I’m sorry, I don’t have any family.” The staff member said no more, processing all the paperwork for me with eyes full of sympathy. Just as I walked out of the crematorium, Alex’s call came through. He explained, “Olivia was getting an IV earlier, and I stayed with her for a bit, so I got delayed. I just went to the department looking for you and didn’t see you. Where are you? I’ll pick you up.” I said softly, “I came out to buy some fruit for Olivia. I’ll be right back.” Olivia’s voice was faintly audible on the other end. Alex quickly told me, “Okay, then hurry back and be careful.” Before I could reply, the call disconnected. I stood there for two minutes, then turned and went to a nearby print shop to get divorce papers, bought a bag of fruit, and walked towards Olivia’s hospital room. Olivia’s face lit up with surprise when she saw me. “Amy, long time no see! Oh? You brought me something? Thank you so much!” I set down the fruit, and seeing her radiant, sun-like smile, I couldn’t help but smile back. “Yes, long time no see. Are you feeling better now?” “I’m much better! All thanks to Owen and Alex taking care of me.” Olivia was so happy she tried to stand up to hug me, but she accidentally strained her still-sore stomach, cried out in pain, and bent over. Alex quickly held her. “You’re still on an IV, don’t move around.” Olivia gave an embarrassed laugh, and Alex looked utterly helpless. I lowered my eyes, a pang of bitterness in my heart. Olivia pulled me down to sit beside her, wanting to chat. The moment I sat down, a sudden sharp pain shot through my chest. I lost my balance, and my body swayed, accidentally pulling out Olivia’s IV tube. Blood immediately welled up on Olivia’s hand. Alex’s face changed drastically, and he violently shoved me away. I was caught off guard and fell to the floor, my arm hitting hard, causing cold sweat to break out on my forehead from the pain. He immediately grabbed Olivia’s hand, and seeing the blood on her hand, his eyes turned cold when he looked at me. “Amy, what do you think you’re doing?” My heart twisted as I met his accusatory gaze, but I quickly explained, “I just accidentally…” “Accidentally? How could you be so careless?” Alex cut me off, pulling Olivia outside to find a nurse to treat her hand. I endured the pain and stood up, wanting to go apologize to Olivia. I overheard Olivia mumbling, “Don’t always be so fierce. That look just now was like you wanted to eat someone. Amy clearly did it by accident.” “And she looks really unwell, maybe she’s sick. You should take good care of her. When we get back, you should apologize to her.” Alex pursed his lips, a flicker of irritation in his heart, but still said: “I know exactly what kind of person she is, Olivia. Don’t always be so kind. Otherwise, if someone bad tries to harm you, you won’t even be able to tell.” Through the thin wall, their conversation reached my ears, and my steps slowly halted. I had forgotten, I was the villainess, and everyone was already worried I would harm Olivia. My pulling out Olivia’s IV tube just now only confirmed my wicked persona. My eyes dimmed. I silently returned to the room, placed the divorce papers on the table, and wrote a sentence on a piece of paper beside it. When Alex and Olivia returned, I was no longer in the room. Olivia asked, surprised, “Where did Amy go?” Alex frowned, his gaze falling on the two extra pieces of paper on the table. In an instant, an inexplicable panic surged through him. On the table lay a divorce agreement and a blank sheet of paper, on which was written: “I’ve signed the divorce papers. I wish you a life of peace, joy, and no more loneliness.” Alex’s fingers clenched tightly, completely losing his composure. Without a word, he rushed out of the hospital room to search for me. A crowd had gathered at the hospital entrance. He pushed through, hearing hushed voices. “How tragic, she died suddenly right after leaving the hospital. So many doctors tried to save her, but they couldn’t. I heard it was multiple organ failure, nothing they could do.” “I know about this. That girl had an exam with me this morning. So young and pretty, I think her name was… Amy?” Alex’s mind exploded, everything before his eyes turning white. Faintly, he heard Olivia and Owen’s anxious shouts behind him, but he seemed not to hear them, his feet uncontrollably racing towards the emergency room. The emergency room door was ajar. Alex lunged forward, pushing the door open with a “clatter.” “Mr. Shen, please wait! You can’t go in yet!” Several nurses rushed over to stop him. But Alex was consumed by anxiety, paying them no mind. He waved his hands, pushing them aside. He stumbled to the bedside, his hands trembling as he slowly pulled back the white sheet covering the person’s face. In that instant, his body froze. “This… this isn’t Amy?” At that moment, Olivia, panting heavily, caught up from behind, speaking breathlessly: “Alex, we kept calling you because we wanted to tell you, the person who died suddenly isn’t Amy at all, it’s just someone with a similar-sounding name!” Hearing this, Alex paused slightly, then with a deep sense of guilt, he carefully covered the body with the sheet again, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry. I was too rash just now. I’ve caused you all so much trouble.” After being led out of the room, Alex secretly let out a long breath, subtly wiping away the cold sweat that had broken out on his palms. Thank goodness, it was just a false alarm. Amy was alright. Outside the hospital room, Olivia stood with her arms crossed, her brows tightly furrowed, observing him with a scrutinizing gaze. “So, what exactly is going on with you two? Why did Amy suddenly leave?” “I…” Alex’s lips moved, but for a moment, he didn’t know how to answer. Olivia’s frown deepened, her tone laced with a hint of reproach: “While I don’t know what happened between you two, or why you have such deep misunderstandings about Amy, you can’t judge a book by its cover.” “At least in front of you, she was an impeccable wife. In front of me, she was a trustworthy friend. That should be enough.” Alex’s heart felt as if it had been harshly squeezed by an invisible hand, suddenly tightening. Olivia was right. Even though Amy was the villainess in the novel, all these years, Amy had never harmed anyone. In fact, she had become friends with the heroine. As for himself, he had lived in constant fear, constantly suspecting her at the slightest hint of trouble. Alex slowly lowered his gaze. At that moment, Owen, a slight, knowing smile playing on his lips, reached out and clapped Alex on the shoulder. “Alex, you’re just tough on the outside, but soft on the inside. You’re not as heartless as you think. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have lost your composure so completely just now.” “I can’t be sure about other things, but Amy’s love for you, we onlookers could all see it clearly.” “Stop overthinking everything. Olivia has me to take care of her, so you don’t need to worry. You, my friend, need to realize your own feelings, stop being a coward, and just do what you need to do.” Owen’s smile remained, but a deeper, more profound meaning flickered in his eyes. Alex looked at Owen with a complex expression, remained silent for a moment, then slowly nodded. Owen said no more, slung an arm around Olivia’s waist, and the two turned and left. Alex stood rooted to the spot, watching their backs gradually disappear. He slowly raised his hand, looking at the crumpled piece of paper he held. When he saw the elegant handwriting on it, his heart involuntarily gave a sharp pang. She knew. She had known all along. His mind involuntarily replayed every moment he had shared with Amy. When he was sixteen, to make Amy fall for him, he had deliberately orchestrated a “hero saves the damsel in distress” scenario, rescuing her from a group of thugs. But he had accidentally broken his arm. When the doctor brought him his arm fracture report, Amy cried even harder than he did, her tears flowing endlessly. She cried apologies again and again, blaming herself for being a jinx, for bringing him bad luck. He looked at her tear-streaked face, and somehow, he felt no blame for her at all. He said, half-jokingly, “Then you’ll have to take care of me from now on.” To his surprise, Amy took him seriously, nodding earnestly. For several months after, she worked three part-time jobs every day. When she finally handed him the savings she had accumulated over months, he was both shocked and amused, laughing at her innocence, at her adorable foolishness. When she was eighteen, Amy sent him a long text message, every line filled with her love for him. When he saw the message, his heart pounded, but repeated calls to her went unanswered. A faint unease welled up in Alex’s heart. When he finally found her, Amy was curled up in a corner, crying heartbrokenly. He immediately panicked, rushing forward to pull her tightly into his embrace. She nestled in his arms, babbling about her grievances. As he listened, his heart ached as if being sliced by a knife. At that moment, he swore he would become her strongest support, giving her a warm home. Perhaps too much time had passed, so much that he had almost forgotten that at the very beginning of their story, he too had loved her with ardent passion. But how had things changed? It was probably the day he reunited with Olivia, when those long-dormant feelings of love surged forth like a tide. He could no longer control himself, unable to stop paying attention to Olivia’s every move. On one side was Amy’s fiery love, and on the other, the rekindled stirrings he felt for Olivia after so long apart. He was caught in the middle, tormented, yet he repeatedly reassured himself that he was only safeguarding Olivia’s happiness. But only now, at this moment, did he awaken as if from a dream, realizing how ridiculous he had been. His self-proclaimed deep affection was, in truth, disloyalty to two people. No wonder Amy’s eyes had held a trace of melancholy and loss these past few days, even as she forced a smile and wished him happiness. She must have been terribly sad, saddened that the only person she trusted had also deceived her. Alex felt a thousand-pound stone pressing on his heart, suffocating him. His hands trembling, he pulled out his phone and dialed his secretary. “Find out my wife’s whereabouts immediately. I need to go to her at once.”

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I’m fiercely protective of my own, no questions asked. Loyalty over rules, always. When I was a kid, if my dog got picked on, I’d grab a knife and chase the culprits three blocks for revenge. Later, at work, if my team had a dispute, I didn’t care who was right—only who won. But my boss’s wife, Vanessa, never understood this. At the company’s holiday party, she walked over, glass in hand, and pointed to one of my top salespeople. “This girl looks familiar. Yesterday, I saw her checking into a hotel with an old man in broad daylight, just to close a deal. Young people will do anything for money.” She smiled sweetly. “You should be careful. People like that often carry diseases.” The room erupted. Everyone turned on Emma, whispering insults. She tried to explain, but as an ordinary employee, her voice was drowned out. She was trembling, on the verge of a panic attack—a sign her depression was returning. I stepped in front of her, my smile calm, but my words icy. “Vanessa, you’ll apologize to Emma in front of everyone—or I’ll reveal some things you’d rather keep private, right here, right now.” … Mark, the Finance Manager, sidled over with his drink, patting my shoulder. “Sarah, don’t be so impulsive.” “Vanessa is just a straightforward person; she didn’t mean anything by it. You’re in a crucial stage of your career, with limitless potential.” “It’s not worth getting into a fight with the boss’s wife over a regular employee. It’s not worth it.” Fiona, the Admin Supervisor, chimed in, a hint of disdain in her eyes as she glanced at Emma. “Exactly, Sarah. Vanessa was just kindly reminding you. Don’t let your subordinates drag you down.” “She’s looking out for you, don’t be ungrateful.” A smug look spread across Vanessa’s face. She slowly pointed at Emma. “Manager Klein, I believe an employee who taints the company’s atmosphere like this is a liability.” “How about this, if you agree to fire her, I’ll give you a fifty percent raise.” “And I guarantee your department will receive the best resources. What do you say?” The private room fell silent for a few seconds, then a collective gasp went around. “Oh my goodness, a fifty percent raise!” “Manager Klein hit the jackpot! Just by firing one employee, she’ll earn hundreds of thousands more each year.” Brenda, the HR Supervisor, immediately stood up and walked over to Emma, her tone full of disdain. “The boss’s wife has spoken, so hurry up and leave. What are you waiting for?” “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself for doing such dirty things?” Emma looked up, her eyes red-rimmed. She choked out, “I didn’t do anything. Why are you slandering me?” But no one paid attention to her, because the dignity of a junior employee was not worth their consideration. I turned back to Vanessa, my smile completely gone, my eyes radiating an unyielding determination. “Vanessa, do you not understand me?” “Then I’ll say it again. Emma is my person, and no one touches her.” The smugness on Vanessa’s face froze. She clearly hadn’t expected me to be so disrespectful. Her face darkened. “Sarah Klein, don’t push your luck! I’m the owner’s wife of this company!” The atmosphere in the private room instantly plummeted to freezing point. Everyone fell silent. Emma cried uncontrollably. “Sarah, it’s alright…” “Don’t jeopardize your future because of me. I’m not worth it.” I glared at her. “What are you crying for? I’m here. Let’s see who dares to bully you.” Vanessa’s chest heaved with anger. She pointed at me, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sarah Klein, you’re defending her so fiercely. Is there something unsavory going on between you two?” My colleagues’ gazes turned to me, filled with doubt and speculation. “Manager Klein’s department always has such good performance. So, this is how they achieve it? What an eye-opener.” “I used to wonder why all the company’s big contracts were signed by their department. Turns out it’s all through selling themselves.” I placed my hands on my hips, my voice cutting through their whispers like a blade. “You can spout nonsense, but you can’t make baseless accusations! Slander is a crime!” “Every achievement in our department is earned through everyone’s hard work and effort.” “Emma, our top sales associate, works overtime every day until late at night. Are you all blind?” “With a single baseless remark, you dismiss all her efforts and defame her character?” “Are you all out of your minds?” Vanessa hadn’t expected me to retort so loudly in such a situation. She immediately put on a show of being deeply wronged, her eyes reddening, tears starting to fall. “Manager Klein, I’m doing this for the good of the company! If this kind of behavior spreads, how will the company ever grow?” “I know you want high performance and commissions, but we can’t go against our conscience!” She cried, her face tear-streaked like a pear blossom bathed in rain. Everyone around us looked at her with sympathy. I was a founding employee of the company, building it from the ground up with the owner, Mr. Evans. Countless sleepless nights had led to its current scale. Mr. Evans still held some regard in my heart. For his sake, I forced down my anger. “Vanessa, you must have seen wrong yesterday. Emma would never do such a thing.” “She’s young, unmarried, and she still needs to establish herself in this industry.” “A single remark from you could ruin her entire life.” “I’m asking you to apologize to her in front of everyone today. Is that too much to ask?” I offered her an out, but Vanessa wouldn’t take it. As if gravely wronged, she clutched her stomach and crouched down. Crying, she wailed, “Oh, my stomach… my baby.” Just then, the private room door opened, and Mr. Evans, the owner, walked in. The moment he saw Vanessa crouched on the floor crying, his face instantly filled with alarm. “What’s wrong, darling? What happened?” Vanessa threw herself into Mr. Evans’s arms, sobbing. “Honey, I just kindly reminded Manager Klein to manage her employees properly, and she was so mean to me.” “You know how difficult it is for me to conceive at my age. How could she treat me like this…?” Mr. Evans lovingly embraced Vanessa, comforting her constantly. When he turned to look at me, his eyes were filled with anger and disappointment. “Sarah Klein, was that really necessary?” “We’ve worked side by side for over 20 years, and you’d disrespect me like this?” “You should also know, I’m almost 50 now!” “My biggest regret all these years has been not having a child of my own.” “Now that Vanessa is pregnant, I want to treat her like royalty. Why are you making things difficult for her?” Meeting his anger, I calmly said, “Mr. Evans, Emma is innocent. I have proof.” I immediately took out my tablet from my bag and opened Emma’s work schedule. It clearly stated that she was to attend the City West Industry Summit all day yesterday. Before Mr. Evans could speak, Vanessa leaned in. “Isn’t that perfect?” “The industry summit is full of rich and powerful old men. Isn’t that a great opportunity for her to make connections?” I ignored her and opened my phone. I found the official live-streaming platform for the summit and downloaded the full replay from yesterday. I fast-forwarded the playback, and the screen clearly showed the live footage from the summit. From 9 AM when the summit began until 8 PM when it ended, Emma’s figure consistently appeared in the frame. She had not left the venue for a single step the entire time. I turned off my phone and looked at Mr. Evans. “Mr. Evans, Emma simply didn’t have the time to do what Vanessa is claiming yesterday.” “Emma joined the company two years ago. In these two years, she has been diligent and hardworking.” “She’s so young, it’s terribly unfair for her to suffer such baseless accusations.” I paused, my tone firm. “Mr. Evans, I demand that Vanessa apologize to her and allow the young woman to work and live normally.” Vanessa’s face turned very ugly, her eyes darting nervously. She clutched her stomach, looking wronged. “Honey, but I really wasn’t lying.” “My memory hasn’t been good since I got pregnant, so I might have gotten the time wrong.” “But I truly saw Emma go into a hotel room with a client!” “I swear on the health of the baby in my belly, I absolutely did not deliberately slander her.” Mr. Evans held Vanessa even tighter, looking at me with great impatience. “I trust Vanessa’s character. She’s not the type of person who would deliberately slander someone.” “Besides, there’s no smoke without fire. If Emma really had no issues, why would she be misunderstood?” “Sarah Klein, I am now telling you, as the Chairman of the company, this matter ends here!” “This employee, Emma, cannot stay with the company.” “You are to dismiss her immediately, right now!” “Otherwise, you’re out too!” Seeing Mr. Evans’s outburst, the people around us quickly chimed in. “Mr. Evans is right. Such a controversial employee definitely shouldn’t stay with the company.” “Manager Klein, just listen to Mr. Evans. Don’t insist any longer, it’s not worth it.” “Exactly, losing your own job for an employee is too costly.” I looked at Emma’s tear-reddened eyes, a pang of sadness in my heart. My department, though small in number, was comprised of elite, hand-picked individuals. We supported each other in this unfamiliar city. Having worked hard together for so many years, we were like family. Emma was the youngest in the department, and also the most dedicated. I couldn’t stand by and watch her be slandered like this. I looked at Vanessa coldly, giving her one last chance. “Vanessa, the young woman grew up in a single-parent family.” “Her father abandoned them for another woman after he became successful. Her mother’s health isn’t good, so she’s had a very tough life.” “I advise you to stop. Admit your mistake now, and it will be a good deed for the baby in your belly.” But Vanessa again clutched her stomach, her brows furrowed. She said painfully, “Honey, my stomach hurts so much.” “The baby seems to know I’m being bullied…” Mr. Evans immediately became anxious, roaring at me, “Sarah Klein! What are you waiting for? Fire Emma now!” “If anything happens to Vanessa and the baby, I’m not done with you!” I looked at Mr. Evans’s anxious face, then at Vanessa’s feigned expression of suffering. The last flicker of hesitation in my heart vanished. A cold smile played on my lips. “Alright, since there’s nowhere left to retreat, I won’t retreat at all.” Vanessa turned and shouted, “Where’s the HR Supervisor? Get over here!”

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My dad? He’s the quintessential villain, the kind of deranged secondary character you love to hate. He’d planned to drug the heroine, intending a classic kidnap-and-imprisonment scenario, but ended up being intercepted by a forgotten side character—a woman who secretly adored him. That woman, my mother, vanished overnight after I was born, leaving me on his doorstep. Naturally, my dad wanted to wring my neck. I’d often hear him loading a gun, muttering, “If it weren’t for this burden, Mina and I would be together! One day, I swear, I’m going to finish her off.” The next moment, I’d bat my big eyes, piping up in my baby voice, “Dada.” His menacing scowl would freeze solid. He’d grumble about me being bad luck, yet still make me the best formula, kicking a bodyguard when the water was too hot. His murderous intent never truly wavered. Until I was six. That’s when Mina, the heroine who’d been using my dad as a backup, finally showed up. “Just get rid of this bastard, and I’ll agree to be with you.” My dad was crouched on the floor, assembling a Lego castle for me. He didn’t even pause, just let out a dismissive scoff. “You? Don’t flatter yourself.” 1 The moment I woke up in this new body, things were dire. I realized I was an infant, dangled upside down in mid-air. The bodyguard holding me was on his knees, trembling. On the plush leather sofa in front of us sat a man. He was undeniably handsome, but in a darkly charismatic way, with eyes like shards of ice that could give you chills with a single glance. This was my dear, utterly unhinged father, Victor Howard. “Since that woman fled, this thing is useless. Dispose of it.” His voice was devoid of warmth, as if he were discussing a bag of trash. I was terrified, desperate to scream for help, but only whimpers and cries escaped my throat. It was then that the system, in its usual slow manner, finally came online and briefed me on the plot. Victor Howard. The story’s unhinged secondary villain, madly in love with the heroine, Mina Vance. Seeing Mina about to marry Ethan Thorne, the penniless hero with a brood of younger siblings, Victor spiraled into darkness. He prepared sedatives, chains, and a secluded room, planning one last, desperate act. But despite all his meticulous planning, he hadn’t accounted for being waylaid by Elara Miller, a forgotten side character who’d secretly harbored feelings for him. Elara was a ruthless one herself. Mimicking Mina’s style, she slept with Victor, then disappeared, only to drop me, still a newborn, at the gates of the Howard Estate a year later. Tucked into my swaddling was a note: “She’s yours. Get a DNA test if you don’t believe me.” The plot was so ludicrous it made my head throb. Before I could internally curse out the system’s entire lineage, Victor’s gaze swept over me. My crying made his brow furrow into a knot of annoyance. “Too noisy.” The kneeling bodyguard tentatively asked, “Mr. Howard, shall we… take care of the child now?” No! Please, no! I’d just gotten this new life, don’t cancel my account already! Seeing Victor about to nod, my survival instincts flared, and I choked back my cries. The system had told me I looked remarkably like Victor. Especially these eyes, a spitting image of his. Even a blind man could tell I was his biological child without a DNA test. So, I blinked furiously, tears welling in my eyes but not quite falling, my nose bright red, trying my hardest to be adorable. Sure enough, when Victor saw my eyes, he paused. The murderous intent in his gaze softened ever so slightly. After a long moment, I heard him scoff coldly: “Keep her for now.” “Once I find that woman, we’ll settle everything together.” My heart, which had been lodged in my throat, finally settled back into my chest. 2 “Keeping her” basically meant tossing me into a guest room and leaving me to my own devices. Victor’s grand estate was eerily quiet, not even a nanny in sight. I was a baby, for heaven’s sake! I had my pride, but more importantly, I needed to eat! No one paid me any mind, so I cried. From morning till night, until my throat was raw and I nearly fainted from hunger. Finally, Victor got fed up with my incessant wailing. He stomped in, face dark, and summoned a line of bodyguards. In a fit of exasperation, he hired eight nannies for me. Money really did solve everything. In less than two months, I transformed from a scrawny monkey into a plump, smiling little dumpling, happy to greet everyone. One day, Victor was passing by the nursery. My sharp eyes spotted him instantly. I don’t know where I found the courage, but I stretched out my two chubby little hands in his direction, giggling, wiggling in the nanny’s arms, desperate to get to him. The nanny, ever quick to please, quickly chimed in, “Look, Mr. Howard, how much the baby adores you!” “Who told you to call her ‘the baby’?” Victor shot back, his face stone cold. The nanny’s face went white, terrified she’d be thrown to the dogs the next second. Victor glanced at me. Just as everyone expected him to erupt, he took off his chilled overcoat, tossing it carelessly to a nearby aide. Then, he walked over and took me into his arms. It was the first time my father had held me. His posture was stiff, as if he were cradling a bomb. His chest was hard and unyielding, uncomfortable against me, but I didn’t dare move. I forced a wide smile, showing off my two tiny front teeth, and snuggled my head into his chest. In that instant, I felt Victor’s body tense. The scent of baby formula drifted into his nose. He didn’t even realize it, but the harsh lines on his face softened considerably. He frowned and asked the nanny, “Didn’t she eat today? She feels so light, all bones.” I glanced down at my arms, which looked like Michelin tires. Ah, the classic “you’re skinny because my dad thinks you’re skinny” syndrome. The nanny wiped a bead of cold sweat. “Mr. Howard, the child… well, eating too much can cause indigestion. Her current weight is perfectly healthy.” Victor grunted in response, then disdainfully handed me back to the nanny. He turned and walked away. Watching his distant, aloof figure, the nannies huddled together, whispering: “Does Mr. Howard like her or not?” “I doubt it. You know Mr. Howard’s temper. This child is just an accident. Who knows, she might be sent away any day.” “I heard the mother really messed with Mr. Howard. The fact he even let the child live is a miracle. Expecting fatherly affection is pushing it.” “Oh, poor thing. She’s so adorable…” My head ached from their chatter, so I simply closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. As long as he didn’t kill me, I could survive. Victor was already willing to hold me; that was the first step to victory. First, secure the powerful protector. 3 My progress was faster than I’d anticipated. One day, Victor, for reasons unknown, decided to personally feed me. He held the bottle, gravely attempting to shove it into my mouth. I stared in horror at the temperature indicator on the bottle: 70 degrees Celsius! Dad, are you trying to scald me to death so you can inherit my diapers? I shook my head violently, but he’d put a woolen hat on me, wrapping my head like a ball, making it impossible to move. I tried to push his hand away, but my hands were tightly swaddled. My eyes were wide as saucers, but Victor, mistaking it for coquettishness, curved his lips into what he thought was a gentle, yet chilling, smile. “Good girl, drink up.” Good girl, my ass! I frantically called for the system in my mind. Just as disaster was about to strike, the doorbell rang. A woman’s voice drifted in: “Victor, it’s me.” Mina Vance. The heroine who had driven Victor to madness. They hadn’t seen each other since their last falling out. Victor’s hand twitched, nearly dropping the bottle. He shoved it into the nearest nanny’s hand, his expression instantly darkening. The nanny, taking the bottle, winced as the heat seared her hand. She looked at me, and I looked at her. Our eyes met, a shared moment of narrowly averted catastrophe. The nanny whispered, “This poor child, without a mother, it’s truly sad.” Another nanny leaned in. “Miss Vance is here; Mr. Howard will definitely send the child away. We’ll all be out of a job.” “Shhh, quiet. We need to protect the baby.” My heart warmed at their words, but my ears were perked up, listening intently to the commotion outside. “Mr. Howard, this is the wedding invitation for Julian and me.” Mina’s voice sounded delicate, almost tearful. “I still hope for your blessing.” “Get out.” My dad was succinct, not even glancing at the invitation. Mina, undeterred,’s eyes immediately welled up. “Victor, you know I grew up without parents. I’ve always seen you as an older brother. For the most important moment of my life, I truly hope you can be there.” With that, she again offered the crimson invitation. Victor stared intensely at the card. His fists clenched, knuckles cracking, veins bulging on the back of his hand. It was clear he was holding back. Holding back from strangling Mina, or perhaps dismembering the man named Julian. Mina truly was ruthless. She knew Victor was unhinged, yet she was practically dancing on his landmines. Making him watch the woman he loved marry someone else? Wasn’t this just pushing him further into madness? According to the original plot, if Victor actually went to the wedding, he’d surely cause a fatality, leading to a grim ending behind bars. If he went to prison, my support system would collapse. My days of luxury and abundance had barely lasted a year! No, I absolutely couldn’t let my dad go to jail. I took a deep breath, gathered my energy, and spat out my pacifier. Under the nannies’ astonished gazes, I faced the living room and, with all my might, shouted: “Da…da!” “Dada…!” “Dada dada!!!” The living room fell into a deathly silence. The invitation slipped from Mina’s hand, hitting the floor with a soft thud. Victor abruptly turned his head. He didn’t even spare a glance for the aghast Mina, stumbling into the room. His amber eyes were filled with shock and panic. He rushed to me, his hands trembling. “You… what did you just call me?” I again extended my little arms, like lotus roots, struggling to reach his neck. This time, Victor didn’t hesitate, scooping me up. His movements were surprisingly fluid, almost painfully so. I hugged his neck, rubbing my face against his, deploying every trick in my tiny arsenal, smiling as sweetly as I possibly could. I kept calling out in his ear: “Da…da.” “Giggles, da…da…” The corners of Victor’s eyes reddened. He looked at me, his gaze complex and unreadable. Finally, he held me tight against his chest, his voice hoarse: “Daddy’s here.”

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I’ve always dreaded my birthday. Every year, on that day, I had to kneel before my mother’s grave for an entire day. Mom died from an amniotic fluid embolism, the very day she gave birth to me. From then on, I became the family’s culprit. Dad hated me. My grandparents never gave me a kind look. They all said I was the one who killed Mom. On my eighth birthday, I cautiously tugged at Dad’s sleeve, speaking in a small voice, “Dad, I feel so unwell today. Can I… not go to Mom’s grave?” But Dad’s eyes turned red, and he roared at me, “Your mom died giving birth to you! If you don’t go to her tombstone and repent, how can you face her?” He wouldn’t listen to my explanations. Like discarding trash, he dropped me in front of Mom’s tombstone and walked away without looking back. Watching Dad’s retreating figure, I let out a soft laugh. Dad, when I die, will you stop hating me then? 1 Dad had long since disappeared from sight, leaving me alone at the tombstone with a pile of unburned paper money. I curled up, leaning against the cold stone. “Mom,” I whispered, “Auntie Doctor said I have a very serious illness. My stomach will hurt constantly, until I die.” As I finished speaking, the pain in my belly intensified, like a thousand ants burrowing into my flesh. The wind grew stronger, whipping my hair into a tangled mess and blowing the ashes of the paper money onto my neck. I raised a hand to wipe them away, only to feel cold sweat on my face. “Mom, when I die, will I finally see you?” “When I do, please don’t dislike me like Dad does, okay? I didn’t mean to make you die…” I lay prostrate against the tombstone, too weak to move from the pain, my gaze fixed on Mom’s smiling face in the photo. Suddenly, I remembered what my grandparents used to say. They said Dad and Mom were childhood sweethearts, growing up together, always inseparable. Later, they grew up, naturally married, and lived very happily. Grandma even said Mom was the smartest and prettiest girl on the whole street. She could sing, dance, and paint, and Dad always doted on her like a little princess. Grandma also mentioned that, as I was nearing birth, Dad was ecstatic every single day. He bought tiny clothes and toys for me in advance, telling everyone he met that he was going to be a father. But everything changed on the day I was born. Dad never got to see Mom deliver me safely. Instead, he received news from the doctor. The doctor said Mom didn’t survive an amniotic fluid embolism. Dad, who had been eagerly anticipating my arrival, instantly turned red-eyed upon hearing the news. He went wild, trying to rush into the delivery room to strangle me. It took several doctors to hold him back and save me. From that day on, I became his enemy, the murderer who killed Mom. The sky slowly darkened, and the snow fell heavier, like goose feathers drifting everywhere. I suddenly remembered Grandma mentioning on Mom’s death anniversary that it was also a day of heavy snowfall when Mom left, a cold that made everyone shiver. The searing pain in my stomach, which had been agonizing moments ago, slowly lessened as the snowflakes drifted down. I braced myself against the tombstone and slowly sat up, gazing towards the direction of home. These past years, Dad hadn’t fared well either. Since I could remember, I’d never seen Dad smile. Every day, besides work, he would stare blankly at Mom’s photo. I wanted to go back. Anyway, my remaining days were few. I might as well do something for Dad now. The house was eerily quiet; Dad hadn’t come home from work yet. I gathered the dirty clothes from the sofa into the laundry basin, poured in detergent, and scrubbed them clean one by one, hanging them on the line in the yard. My hands were red and raw from the cold, but I didn’t stop. After the clothes were hung, I took a broom and swept the entire yard and inside the house. Chinese New Year was coming soon. I wouldn’t be here for it, but I hoped Dad wouldn’t look so gloomy this year. Done with the chores, I dug out the pocket money I had saved for a long time from my backpack. Counting it, it was exactly $87.5. This was just enough to buy some groceries. Clutching the money, I walked to the market, selecting some green vegetables Dad liked, potatoes, and the occasional cut of pork belly he bought. Fearing Dad might forget, I found a sticky note and scrawled “Eat the greens soon, pork belly in the freezer,” then taped it to the fridge. With little change left, I stood outside the cake shop, hesitating for a long time before finally going in. In all my eight years, I had never had a birthday cake. My deskmate said cake was delicious, sweet, a hundred times better than candy. Today, I wanted to fulfill this one wish. I entered the shop and bought the smallest cream cake. It had a tiny strawberry on top and a single candle. Snowflakes landed on the cake box, as if celebrating with me. Back home, I carefully placed the cake on the table, gently opening the box. I didn’t eat it immediately. Instead, I copied how people celebrated birthdays on TV, clasping my hands, closing my eyes, and making a serious wish to the tiny candle. My first wish was that after I died, Dad would live happily, no longer staring blankly at Mom’s photo, no longer trapped by sadness. My second wish was that in my next life, I would still be Mom and Dad’s daughter. I would definitely be good, and I would definitely not let anything happen to Mom again. As I came to the third wish, I paused. Was it too greedy to make so many wishes at once? But I really wanted to be greedy just one more time. I knew my time was short, so for my third wish, I wanted my stomach to stop hurting. Even if it was just for these last few days, could I spend them peacefully? After making my wishes, I picked up the small fork, dug out a tiny piece of cake, and put it in my mouth. A sweet sensation bloomed on my tongue. My deskmate hadn’t lied; the cake was truly, truly sweet. I held the fork, about to take a second bite, when the front door suddenly creaked open. It was Dad, returning with the smell of alcohol on him. My heart tightened, and I instinctively pushed the cake further onto the table. As soon as Dad entered, he saw the cake. “You’re not kneeling at your mother’s grave in repentance, and you dare to come home and sneak cake? Do you deserve to eat this cake?!” No sooner had he spoken than he strode over, raising his hand and sweeping the cake to the floor. Before I could react, there was a sharp smack, and a burning pain instantly flared on my cheek. I was stunned, tears immediately rolling down my face. Dad hated me, but he had never hit me before. This was the first time. Suddenly, a wrenching cramp, more violent than any before, tore through my stomach, like countless sharp knives twisting simultaneously. The pain made me curl up on the floor, clutching my belly tightly with both hands. Dad still stood there, his chest heaving. He raised his hand, seemingly intending to strike again. I trembled with fear, begging through my tears, “Dad, don’t hit me… I won’t eat it, I won’t ever eat it again.” My words made Dad’s raised hand freeze. He stared at my pale face, and his uplifted palm unconsciously lowered. But the next second, he averted his eyes, simply snarling, “Get out, go to your mother’s grave now. Don’t come back without my permission!” I bit my lip, enduring the excruciating pain in my stomach, and slowly crawled up from the floor. Outside, the snow was falling even harder, and the biting wind felt like knives cutting my face. I hunched my shoulders, inching my way back to Mom’s grave. Kneeling before Mom’s tombstone again, I buried my head in my knees, my voice choked with tears, softly talking to Mom: “Mom, I’m sorry, I made Dad angry again.” “He saw me eating cake and shouted at me fiercely, knocked the cake over, and slapped me. It’s the first time Dad has ever hit me, but I don’t blame him. I shouldn’t have secretly come home to eat cake today.” I paused, then looked up at Mom’s photo. “Mom, but I did get to taste the cake. Even though it was just a small bite, it was really, really sweet.” “I’m already very satisfied. This was my first birthday wish in eight years, and it came true.” The snow continued to fall, landing on my hair, on my shoulders, slowly turning me into a little snowman. Looking at Mom’s picture, I suddenly felt lost. To be honest, my memory of Mom’s face was always hazy. All these years, I’d never once dreamed of her. Was Mom blaming me too, for causing her death? Was that why she wouldn’t come to see me, not even in my dreams? I couldn’t hold back anymore; large tears rolled down my face, the emotional pain spreading through me. “Mom, I really didn’t mean it… I didn’t want you to die…” No sooner had I spoken than a gush of metallic sweetness surged into my throat. A mouthful of fresh blood burst out, splashing onto the pristine white snow. The excruciating pain in my stomach instantly peaked. My vision went black, and I could no longer stand, collapsing. I don’t know how long passed before I woke up. There was no longer the biting cold, nor the heart-wrenching pain. My body felt light, like a feather. I looked down and realized I was curled up in front of Mom’s tombstone, my small body largely covered by white snow. So, I had died. I tried to move, but my body floated up involuntarily. A gust of wind carried me, uncontrollably, towards the direction of home. I drifted through the yard gate, directly towards the second floor. That small, secluded room on the second floor; Dad never allowed me near it. Every time I curiously peered towards its door, he would snap at me. But now, I passed through unimpeded. As soon as I entered the room, I froze. The walls were covered with Mom’s photos: her with a ponytail, her smiling radiantly in a wedding dress, candid shots of her cooking in the kitchen. Each photo was perfectly preserved. Dad sat on the floor, leaning against the wardrobe, tightly clutching a pale yellow sweater. His shoulders trembled violently as he murmured Mom’s name over and over: “Clara… how much longer can I hold on?” He buried his face in the sweater, crying like a helpless child: “The way I treated our daughter, will you blame me?” “But I truly couldn’t control myself. Every time I saw her, I remembered you left because of her…” “I hate her, but in reality, I hate myself. I hate myself for not protecting you.” I floated in mid-air, watching him weep, broken and helpless, and tears instantly welled up in my eyes. So, Dad didn’t truly hate me. He just mistook his guilt for Mom, his responsibility for himself, as anger towards me. All these years, he had suffered more than I had. I yearned to rush to him, to tell him I understood everything, to wipe away his tears. But my hand passed through his body again and again, unable to touch anything. I circled him frantically, desperately shouting: “Dad, I don’t blame you!” “Please stop tormenting yourself! Mom wouldn’t want to see you like this either, Dad, please cheer up.” Dad cried for what felt like an eternity, finally stopping. He staggered to his feet, walked to a cabinet in the corner of the room, and pulled out a bottle of liquor. He raised the bottle, tilting his head back to take a large gulp. The burning liquid slid down his throat, but he seemed to feel nothing, only exhaling a heavy sigh. As long as I could remember, Dad was especially fond of drinking, often getting completely drunk. But I’d heard Grandma say that when Mom was alive, Dad never touched alcohol.

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1 The year I became a bottomless pit, I was sixteen. I could eat ten pancakes for breakfast and still feel empty. For my sixteenth birthday, my parents asked me what I wanted. “A trip to a fancy all-you-can-eat buffet,” I said. It had been so long since I’d felt truly full. Seeing the desperate hunger in my eyes, my mother’s face instantly darkened. “Mila, why do you always have to act like your father and I starve you?!” “It was the same at dinner tonight. Your sister takes the last two slices of roast beef, and you put on this whole pathetic show.” “You already had two helpings! There’s a limit to how far you can go competing with your sister!” For the thousandth time, I tried to explain. “I’m really not full yet.” Her hand cracked across my face. The sting was sharp, shocking. “Still lying?!” she snapped. “What kind of girl isn’t full after two plates of food? You’re obsessed with getting attention, aren’t you? You don’t even care about your own body.” The blow brought tears to my eyes. As I ducked my head, clutching my burning cheek, I saw my sister, Nicole, spitting the perfectly good pieces of roast beef into the trash can. … Who was the one really competing for attention? Nicole was already full. But she saw my fork still moving, so she deliberately scooped the last of the meat onto her plate. And Mom had praised her. It’s a blessing to have a good appetite. Then, Mom, why is it just an act when I have one? Maybe it was because I hadn’t grown up with them. I’d spent most of my childhood living with my grandparents, so I wasn’t as close to her as Nicole was. Thankfully, the next day was my Aunt Carol’s birthday. She was hosting a buffet at a hotel. Finally, a real meal. I had been eating for a while when my mom showed up, late from work. The moment she saw my heaping plate, her expression soured. “Mila, are you eating that much again!?” Nicole looped her arm through Mom’s, a sweet smile on her face. “Mila has a great appetite. She’d already finished two plates before you got here.” “Wow, Mila, you can really eat,” a cousin I didn’t know well remarked, genuinely impressed. She was rail-thin and always struggled with her appetite. I managed a weak smile in her direction. “It’s alright.” My mother’s face grew even darker. “You think that’s something to be proud of, Mila?” she hissed. “It’s your aunt’s birthday party, and you’re just here to freeload. Have you no shame, eating this much?” “Look at your sister, how beautiful her dress is. Now look at yourself, in those shabby clothes.” I bit my lip, my eyes darting to Nicole in her sleek, form-fitting dress. Then I looked down at my own plain denim overalls. Mom crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. “Jealous? Keep eating like that, and you’ll be wearing potato sacks for the rest of your life. What man would ever want you?” Nicole giggled, covering her mouth. “Mom, don’t even worry about it. There are plenty of guys with weird fetishes. Fat admirers, even. Someone will take her in.” My eyes started to burn. Mom’s voice sharpened with impatience. “Your sister and I are just trying to help you be more disciplined! Why are you crying?” “I work in the print shop at your school. Everyone knows we’re mother and daughter. When you eat like a pig, how do you think that makes me look?” Ever since I started high school, my appetite had exploded. And ever since then, my mother was always angry. She was convinced it was some tactic my grandmother had taught me to win her favor, refusing to believe that I was simply, painfully, hungry. 2 Nicole giggled and leaned into Mom. “Don’t be mad, Mom. Her brain is probably so full of food she can’t hear good advice anyway. Let’s just ignore her.” The curious stares from the surrounding relatives felt like needles on my back. Humiliated, I turned to escape the room. “What’s wrong?” Aunt Carol, seeing the commotion from across the room, started walking over. A jolt went through me. It was her birthday. She’d always been kind to me, sneaking me snacks whenever she visited. I couldn’t let a fight between my mother and me ruin her party. I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes and told my aunt it was nothing. As more relatives began to gather, my mother reluctantly softened her expression. “It’s nothing. I was just giving Mila a little lecture.” She stepped beside me and, for show, placed a single lettuce leaf on my plate. “I don’t know what to do with you. If you want to eat, then eat. Don’t want you saying I play favorites again.” I numbly speared the lettuce with my fork and put it in my mouth. As I looked up, my eyes met Nicole’s. She shot me a contemptuous smirk, and my heart dropped. It was the same look she’d given me the first night I came back to live with my parents a year ago. I knew she hated me. Hated that I’d come home and stolen a piece of our parents’ attention. So she was always, in ways big and small, manipulating Mom into thinking I was in a constant battle with her for their affection. But I was their daughter, too. The new year was approaching, and the food street outside our school was buzzing with promotions. A fried chicken place was holding an eating challenge. Finish their designated portion of chicken in thirty minutes, and the meal was free, plus you’d get a fifty-dollar gift card. After school, I went by myself to try it. But just as I was about to step inside, a voice stopped me. It was my mother, who had just driven out of the school parking lot. “I was wondering where you’d disappeared to after class. Sneaking off to another one of these disgusting eating challenges?” The disgust on her face was plain to see. “You’re not going in there. It’s embarrassing.” I’d barely eaten anything at the birthday party yesterday before fleeing in shame. And now she was trying to stop me again. I was too hungry to argue. I just turned and walked into the shop. I was the only one attempting the challenge, so all the customers turned to watch me with curiosity. When the owner brought out the massive platter of fried chicken, a wave of gasps rippled through the room. My mother’s face was a mask of fury. She tried to physically drag me out. “If you want fried chicken, I’ll make it for you at home! Why do this with everyone staring? Are we monkeys in a circus?” “Or do you just love being the center of attention this way?!” Her words cut right through to an old wound. When I was little, my kindergarten teacher once scolded me for constantly eating, calling me an attention-seeker. When my mother found out, she’d confronted the teacher, telling her I could eat as much as I wanted. But after ten years apart, why had that same protection turned into a weapon, a boomerang thrown back to hurt me? “Just go home,” I said, pulling my arm from her grasp. I asked the owner to bring the timer. Seeing she couldn’t change my mind, my mother shot me one last venomous glare and stormed out of the restaurant. As she left, I heard her mutter a curse under her breath. I lowered my head and started eating the chicken. A single tear fell onto the plate. “What’s wrong, little lady?” the owner asked, surprised. I looked up and forced a smile. “It’s nothing. Your mustard sauce is just really strong.” 3 After successfully completing the challenge, I walked home alone. Mom, Dad, and Nicole were at the dinner table, laughing and talking. My dad reached for a bowl to get me some food, but my mother’s voice cut through the air. “Don’t you dare get her anything! She’s been out making a spectacle of herself for a crowd. She’s already stuffed, I’m sure. Wouldn’t even remember to come home for dinner.” My dad hesitated, then put the bowl down. The picture of the three of them, a happy family, stung my eyes. A silent, cold war began between my mother and me. My already tight food budget, which she strictly controlled, was cut again. A girl with a normal appetite could have maybe gotten by on it. But not me. I was hungry every day. A dull, constant ache that left me listless. I didn’t have the energy to fight with her anymore. “Mila, my stomach suddenly feels awful. I brought this spicy chicken stir-fry but I really can’t eat it. You can have it.” My angel of a deskmate handed me her lunchbox. She had only eaten one piece of chicken; the container was still practically full. “Thank you so much!” After she left, I pulled out my fork and prepared to dig in. Suddenly, an exaggerated gasp came from the classroom doorway. “Mom, look! I think Mila is eating someone’s leftovers!” Then came my mother’s furious roar. “Mila! What are you doing?!” Her yell made me flinch, a pavlovian response. I fought the urge to run, determined to just have one decent meal. But the fragrant, two-tiered lunchbox was snatched from my hands. My mother glared down at me, her eyes burning with rage. “Do you have any self-respect?” she hissed. “Begging for your classmate’s leftovers? If people see this, they’ll think I abuse you!” “Would it kill you to eat a little less?!” Nicole stood behind her, arms crossed, looking down at me with the same condescending expression. I closed my eyes, trying to keep my voice from trembling. “Give me back the lunchbox.” “Mom, I just want to be full.” She scoffed. “Full? Your sister can’t even finish one serving at lunch, and I just saw you eat two in the cafeteria! Can’t you have some self-control?” “After that fried chicken challenge the other day, I was ashamed to even look at you. A body stuffed with greasy, fried food… What’s the difference between you and a pig ready for slaughter?” A ringing started in my ears. I wanted to scream at her, to fight back. But whenever my anger peaked, my body betrayed me, and the tears would start to flow, rendering me speechless. I could only stand there silently, trying to grab the lunchbox back. My mother sneered, flicked open the lid, and handed it to Nicole. “Go on. Throw it out.” I lunged forward, but Mom grabbed my arm, her sharp nails digging into my skin. “Let’s see if I can’t cure you of this disgusting habit today.” Nicole smiled, walked over to the trash can, and tipped the container. The entire meal tumbled into the filth. “Still hungry, sister?” she called out. “You can always dig it out of the trash.” 4 When I got home that evening, the smell of food filled the air. Mom was making my sister’s favorite: BBQ ribs. But as I climbed the stairs, a cold sweat soaked through the back of my shirt. I knew the feeling. My blood sugar was crashing. Leaning against the wall, I shuffled to the kitchen doorway. My voice was weak, airy. “Mom, I don’t feel so good. Can I please have just one rib? Or one of Nicole’s cookies, anything…” Without turning around, she moved the freshly cooked ribs to the highest shelf, out of my reach. Her tone was laced with disbelief. “Don’t feel good? You had two full meals at the school cafeteria at noon, and it’s barely been a few hours. Mila, did you just smell the meat and get greedy again?” “No,” I whispered. My vision started to speckle with black dots. I gripped the doorframe to stay upright. “Mom, I’m really dizzy. My heart is pounding.” “Wait,” she snapped impatiently. “The soup is almost ready. We’ll eat when your father gets home. Have you forgotten your manners? What kind of girl whines like a hungry pig before dinner is even served?” “I’m not being greedy…” The ringing in my ears grew louder, drowning out my own voice. “Mom, please. Just a piece of candy.” “How long are you going to keep up this victim act?” She finally glanced back at me, her eyes cold and disgusted. “Look at your sister, quietly doing her homework in her room. She’s never like you, always crying about being hungry or sick, finding new ways to get attention!” “You, hypoglycemic? You eat so much every day, with all that fat on you? Who are you trying to fool!” A deep chill spread through me, and a pins-and-needles sensation crawled up my limbs. I knew I was running out of time. I turned, using the wall for support, and started back toward my room, intending to call for an ambulance. Her scolding voice followed me. “Go back to your room! Don’t get in my way while I’m cooking. I’ll call you when dinner is ready.” “You’re infuriating. A perfectly good girl, not using her mind for anything useful, just scheming about how to eat more, how to get more attention.” I couldn’t hear what she said after that. Relying on instinct, I struggled to turn my doorknob. My hand was so weak I couldn’t even hold my phone. In the last second before I lost consciousness, I heard Nicole’s bright voice from the living room. “Mom, the ribs smell amazing! I’m so hungry, I’m going to grab one now.” In a complete reversal of her tone with me, my mother’s voice was warm and gentle. “Help yourself, sweetie. I made them just for you.” A tear slid down my cheek as I closed my eyes, and the world went black. I was jolted awake again by the sound of my father coming home. “Wow, dinner looks great tonight! Where’s Mila? It’s not like her to be late for a meal.” Dinner was ready? A flicker of hope sparked in me. I pushed myself up from the floor, ready to eat. Strange. After that short nap, I wasn’t hungry or dizzy anymore. My hand reached for the doorknob. I pushed, but the door didn’t open. Instead, my palm passed straight through the metal. I froze. I looked down at my hand. It was translucent. Stunned, I turned around. There, on the floor, was my body, twisted and stiff. I vaguely recalled reading a fact somewhere: acute hypoglycemia can be fatal. So… I was dead.

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