Author: Momo Chan

My mother showed up at my doorstep, her face etched with worry, telling me my uncle had fallen and needed thirty thousand for surgery. I hurried her to the ATM, my mind racing with a hundred thoughts. But when we stood before the machine, I froze, utterly dumbfounded. “Insufficient Funds,” the screen blinked back mockingly. This card belonged to Lillian Vance. We’d agreed when we married that it would be our joint savings, a “deposit only” account. Every payday, without fail, I’d deposit eighty thousand into it. This had been going on for five full years. Thirty thousand? We should have had millions. More than enough. Yet, there it was: a pathetic 1.03 dollars. I dialed Lillian’s number a dozen times, but she didn’t answer. Eventually, her phone went straight to voicemail. I had no choice but to call a friend and borrow the money. An hour later, she finally sent a message. “Dean, I was with Brandon Miller looking at houses. It was so loud, I couldn’t hear my phone.” “What’s up?” 1 I swallowed hard, forcing down the surge of anger. I quickly concocted an excuse, then asked her where they were looking. She replied with ‘Riverside Manor.’ It was an upscale community, with prices upwards of thirty thousand per square foot. We’d looked at it last year when it first opened. I’d even considered buying a unit, but she’d dismissed the idea outright. I didn’t press further, just hung up. Lillian finally returned home at seven that evening. A faint scent of men’s cologne drifted from her, the familiar woody notes of the fragrance her childhood friend, Brandon Miller, always wore. Our one-year-old son, Arthur, sat in his highchair, babbling and playing with a spoon. I spooned some steamed egg into his mouth, then looked up at my wife, who was shedding her coat. “How was the house hunting with Brandon today?” I asked, my voice flat. Her movements faltered for a fraction of a second. Then, her usual gentle smile appeared. “It was alright. Brandon thought the layout at Riverside Manor was good, the view was nice, and the price was fair.” “You didn’t say that when we looked at it,” I murmured, stirring the soup in my bowl. “You said it was too out of the way, that the amenities weren’t developed yet, and it wasn’t worth the price.” “Oh, well, that was then, this is now,” she replied smoothly. “It’s developed so much since. I hear the subway will be ready next year.” She sat down, picked up a piece of greens with her chopsticks, and deftly changed the subject. “By the way, what was so urgent this afternoon? I couldn’t quite catch it on the phone.” “Nothing. Just a small matter with my mother. It’s been sorted.” She simply said, “Oh,” and didn’t probe further. Arthur patted the table with his little hand, wanting water. Lillian got up to fetch his cup, cooing softly to him. I watched her retreating back. Her long hair was loosely pinned up, and the creamy white loungewear made her silhouette look gentle and soft. Three years of dating, five years of marriage. Eight years. I thought I knew this woman who slept beside me every night. Until this afternoon, when the glaring balance on the ATM screen slapped me hard across the face. “Oh, right,” I said, putting down my chopsticks, as if it were an afterthought. “I’m thinking of replacing the old car. I saw the new BMW model, about thirty thousand. What do you think?” Lillian’s hand, which was giving Arthur water, paused. She turned, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Why the sudden urge to change cars? The one we have is only eight years old, isn’t it?” “It’s a bit old, and the space is too small. We can’t fit everything when we go camping with Arthur.” “But thirty thousand is too expensive…” She put down the water cup and sat back in her chair. “Won’t it put too much pressure on the family if you buy a new car?” “Our monthly living expenses are already quite high.” “A car is a depreciating asset. It loses value the moment it leaves the lot.” “Besides, your current car is well-maintained. It’s perfectly fine for a few more years. There’s no need to buy a new one just for appearances…” She listed off her points, one by one, with clear logic and apparent sincerity. She sounded like a frugal wife, always thinking of her family’s best interests. In the past few years, I’d heard these words countless times, feeling satisfied, even guilty, about her practicality and devotion to our home. Now, hearing them felt like a thousand tiny needles, pricking my heart. I stayed silent, offering no rebuttal, just focused on eating my rice. After I finished the dishes, Arthur was already drowsy, rubbing his eyes in Lillian’s arms. “I’ll take him to bath and bed.” She picked up Arthur and headed towards the bathroom. On the coffee table, her phone screen was still lit. I walked over, picked it up, and quickly opened the banking app, loading the transaction history. Densely packed, full of transfers. 2 The recipient’s name was partially obscured, but the last few digits of the account number were clearly visible, and they were all the same. The transfer frequency was astonishingly high – several transactions every month. The amounts varied, some were three to five thousand, others tens of thousands. The largest single transfer? A staggering fifty thousand. It had happened today. I held my breath, scrolling back to the earliest record. March 15th this year: a transfer of five thousand. Brandon Miller’s social media post about returning to the country, with a picture at the airport, was dated March 14th. Deep into the night, I lay awake, unable to sleep. Beside me, Lillian’s breathing was steady; she was fast asleep. I watched her quietly, feeling a chilling unfamiliarity emanate from her face. Five years ago, on a night much like this, we had just gotten our marriage license. She had brought up the idea of our savings with a serious tone. “Dean, we need to plan for our future.” “We’ll want to have children eventually, and our parents will get older.” “This money will be deposit-only, our safety net and security.” I was deeply moved then, believing I had found a virtuous wife. For the next five years, every payday, the first thing I did was transfer eighty thousand into that account, leaving myself only the bare minimum for living expenses. To save money, I quit smoking after ten years, declined all social gatherings that cost money, and wore my clothes and shoes until they were worn out, unwilling to replace them. Whenever colleagues upgraded their cars or watches, I’d just smile. In my heart, I pictured the steadily growing number on that card and felt it was all worth it. It was my investment in the future, my commitment to our family. But I never imagined it would end like this. Five years, sixty months, four hundred eighty thousand. Reduced to 1.03 dollars. Suddenly, many small details from these years flashed through my mind. Lillian always strongly supported my frugality. When I wanted to take her out for a nice meal, she’d say cooking at home was healthier. When I wanted to buy her a down jacket, she’d call it a waste. I used to think she was sensible and good at managing money. Now I understood. It was merely a way to make me more willing to keep funneling money into that card. And what about her? Her skincare products were always high-end brands. Her clothes, though seemingly simple, were made of expensive fabrics and tailored impeccably. I used to assume it was occasional support from her family, or her own salary. Now, I suspected my four hundred eighty thousand had largely subsidized her refined lifestyle. The most laughable part was that I had even felt guilty about it. Believing she hadn’t lived a very luxurious life with me, that I had somehow wronged her. I walked out to the balcony, leaned against the railing, and lit a cigarette. My first cigarette in five years. The next day was Saturday. When Lillian woke up, I had already made breakfast. “Why are you up so early today?” She seemed surprised, rubbing her eyes. “Couldn’t sleep.” I placed the fried egg and milk on the table. “Arthur’s still asleep. Let him rest a bit longer.” She sat down, took a bite of toast, and, as usual, scrolled through the news on her phone. Her demeanor was natural, betraying nothing. I watched her quietly, then spoke. “Did Brandon manage to scrape together enough money for the house?” “Why the sudden question?” She smiled, put down her phone, and took a sip of milk as if nothing was amiss. “Just curious. Riverside Manor isn’t cheap, and he just returned to the country this year. Where would he get that much money?” “His family supported him, and he also has some savings of his own.” Her answer was quick, clearly a prepared response. “Is that so?” I lowered my head, cutting my fried egg. “I heard the down payment for the smallest unit there is over a million. Can his family really afford that kind of support?” Lillian was silent for a few seconds. “Brandon studied abroad. With his capabilities, buying a house shouldn’t be a problem.” “You eat first. I’ll go check if Arthur’s awake.” I watched her somewhat guilty back, my heart sinking little by little. I picked up my phone and sent a message to a friend: “Are you there? I need a favor.” Five days later was my father-in-law’s birthday, and the Vance family courtyard was packed with cars. Carrying my modest gifts of tea and health supplements, I felt somewhat out of place amidst the bustling crowd. Every member of the Vance family looked at me with a subtle, yet unmistakable, hint of disdain. I was from a rural background, got into university, and stayed in the city for work. Through sheer hard work, I’d climbed the ranks to project manager at my current company. But in this family, they only saw my origins. When I first married Lillian, the Vance family had fiercely opposed it. Her mother, Mrs. Vance, had called me a country bumpkin, unworthy of her daughter. Mr. Vance, though silent, had been equally cold in his demeanor. In the end, it was Lillian’s persistence, coupled with my genuinely good income, that finally swayed them to reluctantly agree. Five years later, the situation hadn’t improved. 3 From the kitchen, Mrs. Vance’s voice drifted out. “Lillian, when is Brandon arriving? I specifically called and told him he absolutely had to come today.” “Don’t worry, Mom, he said he’d be here,” Lillian replied. I walked out to the courtyard and lit a cigarette. The pack I’d bought yesterday was already half empty. “Brother-in-law, why are you out here alone?” Lillian’s younger brother, Scott, walked over, his tone light and somewhat flippant. I told him I needed some fresh air. He chuckled, patting my shoulder. “Brother-in-law, don’t take it to heart. Our family is just like this. Honestly, I think you’ve done really well.” His words sounded like comfort, but the perfunctory look in his eyes was unmistakable. By half past eleven, all the guests had arrived. Two large round tables were set in the living room, with Mr. Vance seated at the head. I was placed at the secondary table, alongside a few distant relatives of the Vance family. Just as we were about to begin the meal, the sound of a car engine echoed from outside the gate. Everyone looked up. A brand-new black Mercedes pulled into the driveway. Brandon Miller emerged from the driver’s seat, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, carrying several exquisite gift boxes. Mrs. Vance’s eyes lit up. She immediately rushed to greet him. “Brandon, darling, you’re here! Come in, come in!” Lillian also stood up, an unconscious smile playing on her lips. I saw it clearly: a sparkle in her eyes. Brandon greeted everyone politely, distributing numerous gifts: fine wine for Mr. Vance, an imported silk scarf for Mrs. Vance, and the latest model phone for Scott. Even for my son, Arthur, he had prepared an expensive Lego set. “Brandon, you’re too kind!” Everyone laughed, thrilled as they accepted their gifts. In stark contrast, my tea and health supplements, placed in a corner, looked pathetically meager. Brandon was seated at the main table, right next to Mr. Vance. From my seat at the secondary table, a few chairs away, I watched them converse and laugh. Lillian sat diagonally opposite Brandon. Their eyes would occasionally meet, then quickly dart away. Just like every other gathering in the past, maintaining a perfectly appropriate distance. That’s why I’d been kept in the dark until today. The meal began. Dishes were served one after another, and the tables grew lively. I ate quietly, listening to their chatter. “Brandon, nice car. New buy?” Lillian’s cousin suddenly asked. Brandon smiled modestly. “Just picked it up. Only fifty thousand, not really a great car.” “Fifty thousand isn’t great?” Mrs. Vance’s voice rose a few pitches. “Someone’s thirteen-thousand-dollar old car has been driven for eight or nine years, hasn’t it?” “And still no money to replace it, sigh.” The table fell silent for a moment. Mr. Vance cleared his throat. “Eat, everyone, eat.” But Mrs. Vance clearly wasn’t done. “I always say, a man needs to be capable.” “Look at Brandon. He’s only been back in the country for a short while, and he’s already bought a car and looked at houses.” “But some people, well, they just have no ambition.” “Probably destined to stay the same forever.” Lillian tried to intervene softly. “Mom, please stop.” “Am I wrong?” Mrs. Vance glanced at me. “I never approved of him from the start. A country boy, how high could his ambitions be? If you hadn’t been so stubborn about marrying him, I never would have agreed!” Brandon tried to smooth things over with a laugh. “Auntie, actually, Dean works very hard.” “What good is hard work?” Mrs. Vance shook her head. “Look at the gifts he brought. So cheap.” Other relatives at the table chimed in, their eyes full of scorn. I said nothing, continuing to eat. Brandon, perhaps buoyed by the flattery, continued discussing his house purchase. “Auntie, I’ve actually already paid the deposit for Riverside Manor. The down payment was transferred yesterday. Now I’m just waiting to sign the contract.” Someone asked about the down payment. “One hundred eighty thousand,” Brandon replied proudly. “My family helped with some, and I saved up a bit myself.” Mrs. Vance’s eyes gleamed again. “See? Now that’s what I call successful!” “Unlike some people, living in a run-down place, driving a cheap car, and still thinking they’re pretty good.” She glared at me. “If I had known this, I never would have let Lillian marry you.” “A bumpkin is a bumpkin. You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear!” Everyone looked at me. Lillian’s face was pale. She said in a low voice, “Mom, enough.” 4 Mr. Vance also spoke, his voice firm. “Alright, it’s my birthday today. Let’s keep the peace.” I put down my chopsticks. Wiped my mouth, and stood up. Mrs. Vance sneered. “What, can’t take a little criticism?” “Are you angry?” I looked at her, then at Lillian. She avoided my gaze, fiddling with her napkin. Brandon stood up. “Dean, Auntie is just outspoken. Don’t take it to heart.” “I’m not taking it to heart.” I looked at my father-in-law. “Dad, happy birthday.” Mr. Vance nodded, his expression complex. I took a deep breath, my voice not loud, but clear enough for everyone to hear: “Also, I’d like to take this opportunity today to announce something.” “I’ve decided. I’m divorcing Lillian Vance.” My words stunned everyone. After the initial shock, Lillian jumped to her feet. “Dean, what kind of nonsense are you talking?” “I’m not talking nonsense.” I looked at her calmly. “I’m genuinely divorcing you.” “A reason? Just because my mother said a few things to you?” she demanded. “A reason?” I took an envelope from my jacket’s inner pocket, pulled out a stack of printed papers, and tossed them onto the lazy Susan. “First, you answer me. For the past five years, the eighty thousand dollars I religiously deposited into that ‘couple’s reserve fund’ card every month, totaling four hundred eighty thousand dollars, where has it gone?” The papers slowly rotated with the lazy Susan, laying themselves bare before the Vance family. A dense list of transfer records: dates, amounts, and the last few digits of the recipient’s account number. Lillian froze, staring at the stack of papers, her lips pressed into a thin line. The Vance family was utterly silent, exchanging uneasy glances. “You don’t want to say? Then I will.” I glanced at Brandon, who was equally stiff, then pulled out my phone, displaying the investigation results my friend had sent me. “Starting this March, in less than eight months…” “Funds transferred from this card to account ending in 8347, registered to Brandon Miller.” “A total of forty-seven transactions, amounting to four hundred sixty-eight thousand seven hundred thirty dollars.” “March twentieth: five thousand dollars, for Mr. Miller’s new wardrobe after returning to the country.” “May seventh: twelve thousand dollars, for Mr. Miller’s annual membership fee at a high-end club.” “From July to now, two fixed transfers totaling thirty thousand dollars each month, all used to repay a car loan.” “Oh, right. That’s the new Mercedes parked outside.” “Last Friday: a fifty-thousand-dollar transfer to the specified account of the Riverside Manor developer, with the memo ‘deposit’.” “And these here,” I tapped the screen, “correspond to consumption records at several high-end hotels in the city.” “Do I need to state the hotel names and your check-in times?” With each transaction I revealed, Lillian’s face drained of more color. Brandon, meanwhile, tried to avoid everyone’s gaze, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. The Vance family’s expressions shifted from shock and confusion to disbelief and shame. Mrs. Vance opened her mouth, seemingly wanting to interrupt me, but no sound came out. “Oh, and one more thing,” I said, putting away my phone and looking at Lillian. “This new jacket you’re wearing, bought last month, twenty-eight hundred dollars.” “That limited edition skincare set on your vanity, twelve hundred dollars.” “All paid for with the secondary card from that account. I’ve checked the transaction history.” Lillian’s body trembled slightly. She finally spoke, her voice dry. “You hired someone to investigate me?” “If I hadn’t investigated, how would I have known that the savings I painstakingly built over five years had long become capital for someone else to squander, conveniently funding my wife’s refined lifestyle and…” I paused, my gaze sweeping over Brandon, “her affair.” “Enough!” Lillian shrieked, cutting me off, her chest heaving, her face a mix of red and white. “Dean, aren’t you saying all this just to get a divorce?” “Fine, I agree! Let’s get divorced!” “We’ll split the assets evenly, but Arthur’s custody must go to me!” I, who had always been so compliant, laughed. “Split evenly? Don’t dream about it.” “My demand is that you leave with nothing.” “And that four hundred eighty thousand dollars, you must return every penny.” “You’re the one dreaming!” Scott finally couldn’t hold back. He slammed his hand on the table, pointing at my nose and cursing, “Dean! Who do you think you are? What makes you think my sister should leave with nothing?” “Even if she cheated, that money is still marital property!” I pulled out the last paper from the envelope and gently placed it on the table. It was the conclusion page of a paternity test report. I spoke each word clearly, my voice cold. “Because of this.” “Not only did Lillian Vance have an affair during our marriage, she also had a child with someone else.” “Arthur’s biological father is not me!”

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1 After taking prenatal meds from my adoptive sister, searing pain ripped through my abdomen. My eldest brother, a top surgeon, called for an emergency C-section. My husband Leo, my childhood sweetheart, roared, “Save her! I only want my wife!” My three brothers’ eyes were bloodshot. “Quiet, darling, sleep it off. We have the best doctors.” In agony, I was grateful they were all there. But waiting for anesthesia, I overheard them outside. My eldest brother sounded excited. “Willow’s healthy, perfect match. Transplant her heart to Luna.” My second brother, a CEO, agreed. “I’ll destroy evidence. Willow won’t know.” My third brother, a pharmacology professor, added, “I’ll make a drug so even a damaged heart won’t hurt Willow.” After a pause, my husband’s relieved voice came through. “Luna needs a good heart for dancing. We’ll compensate Willow later. I’ll sign the form now.” I felt like I’d fallen into an ice cellar. My heart ached as if carved out. Then a strange voice spoke: [Alert! Host life in danger!] [Final confirmation: Give up all rewards and stay?] I laughed and cried. Their fake love couldn’t hold me anymore. … I struggled to turn over and get out of the hospital bed, but the nurse immediately shoved tubes down my throat and into my nostrils, injecting a large amount of anesthetic into my body. Before consciousness plunged into darkness. I saw Luna, their cherished adoptive sister, Luna Miller, the one who had poisoned me and killed my baby, being wheeled in. My eldest brother, holding a scalpel, coldly instructed the nurse. “Don’t worry about the dead fetus in Willow’s womb for now. Take out her heart for Luna’s transplant surgery.” I felt the blade slice through my chest, layer by layer. Just before I completely lost consciousness. My eldest brother’s murmur reached my ears. “Just hold on, Luna. After you wake up, you can shine on stage without restraint.” Upon regaining consciousness, my first priority was to confirm with the system: [As long as my body dies, I can return to my original world, my heart disease will be cured, and I’ll have 100 million in prize money, right?] [Yes.] How ironic. Initially, I agreed to transmigrate here to save four male protagonists because I couldn’t afford treatment for my heart condition. In the end, these four men, whom I spent fifteen years saving, were the ones who gave me back a compromised heart. Without hesitation, I ripped out the oxygen tube. Breathing became incredibly difficult, my throat tightening as if I was being strangled. Oxygen refused to enter my lungs. My face turned bluish-purple, on the verge of suffocating to death. But a faint smile played on my lips. Death was good. No longer would I have to face their deceitful love. The cardiac monitor blared red, emitting a sharp, piercing beep. My three brothers and Leo, along with a team of nurses, burst in. They roared, “Willow!!” My eldest brother performed CPR and brought me back, then re-inserted the oxygen tube, his eyes bloodshot as he yelled: “Are you insane! Why would you pull out the oxygen tube! It’s just losing a child, you can can’t give up on life!” I clutched my agonizing heart, my voice hoarse. “I just lost a child?” Liam, my eldest brother, knelt down, remorsefully slapping himself. “Willow, blame me. I was the one who asked Luna to give you the medicine that day.” “I thought it would help with the pregnancy, but I didn’t realize you were severely allergic to the medicine, which harmed the baby… and the toxins directly damaged your heart.” “But don’t worry, Liam is the best cardiothoracic surgeon in the country. He will definitely cure you, and we’ll have other children.” His eyes were red. He shuffled on his knees towards me, tightly gripping my hand. “I’ve already punished the doctor who prescribed the medicine; she’s been blacklisted from the industry. Don’t blame Luna, and don’t blame yourself. You have so many people who love you!” Seeing my continued silence, Julian, my second brother, spoke hoarsely. “That’s right, Willow. I’ve already contacted all the hospitals abroad. We’ll find a matching heart for you as soon as possible.” Adrian, my third brother, gently patted me. “Adrian will go back and custom-make special medicine for you, ensuring you can breathe smoothly and skip around like a normal person.” I felt cold all over. How ironic. With just a few words, they intended to gloss over Luna Miller poisoning me, causing the death of my baby, and stealing my heart. A mocking smile played on my lips as I looked at the four men surrounding my hospital bed. “Where’s Luna? I want to ask her directly.” Liam frowned. “You’re still blaming Luna? She was so consumed by guilt that she had a heart attack herself. Thankfully, they found a donor in time to save her life.” Adrian, who had always been the kindest to me, quickly added: “Quietly, darling, don’t cause trouble. Focus on recovering. Liam could save Luna, and he’ll definitely cure you too.” I scoffed. “Is that so? Simultaneous surgeries, my heart fails, and Luna conveniently finds a donor?” The entire hospital room suddenly fell into a deathly silence. “Willow…” Liam began, then hesitated. I was so tired, I didn’t want to hear their nonsense. I forced a smile. “Just kidding. You should go check on Luna. I’m happy she’s recovering.” My brothers froze, wanting to say something, but I simply pulled the blanket over my head. When I pulled back the blanket, my brothers were gone, but Leo was still there. His eyes were filled with guilt. A smile remained on my face. “Could you go check on her for me? Come back and tell me how my sister is doing.” He left without further hesitation. Finally alone, I slowly exhaled, my trembling hand reaching for my phone. The system had promised that if I helped it achieve its KPI, it would grant me one wish. Before entering the operating room, I used that wish to obtain two video clips. I stared intensely at the videos. Obsessively replaying how they conspired to replace my heart. Watching Liam’s resolute movements as he excised my heart, then painstakingly transplanted it into Luna Miller. My entire body’s blood ran cold. Suddenly, I was glad I hadn’t died just now. Because leaving so easily would be too lenient on them… 2 During my hospitalization, they assigned one person each day to accompany me, only to rush off shortly after. I thought they were genuinely busy. Until one time, needing to use the restroom, I found no one around. I grabbed my IV drip and slowly made my way to the bathroom. Passing a hospital room, I saw Leo, who had supposedly rushed off to a meeting, feeding a shrimp dumpling to Luna through the window. My three perpetually busy brothers were also in the room, watching her with doting smiles. Liam’s voice was filled with a helpless affection. “Luna, you can’t just gorge yourself now that you’re recovering. Shrimp dumplings are still too greasy.” Luna swayed his white coat, her voice sweet and coquettish. “But Liam, the shrimp dumplings Julian made are just too delicious!” She then complained. “It’s so annoying, all of you constantly hovering around me. I can’t even sneak a bite of anything.” I tightly pinched my fingers, a self-deprecating smile on my face. During my hospital stay, all I’d eaten were plain congee I ordered from takeout. Luna, it seemed, had them by her side every day, along with meals personally prepared by Julian. Turning stiffly to go back, I then overheard nurses whispering outside the staff room door. “I heard the one I’m taking care of is the biological one. Dr. Liam is so cruel. He specifically told me to give her a few shots of nutrient fluid, preparing to fatten her up as a blood bank. If Miss Luna has a severe rejection reaction, they’ll use her for a full blood transfusion.” My entire body froze in place. The incisions on my chest and abdomen felt like they were tearing open, a pain so intense it left me numb. Why had it come to this? Once, if I merely bumped myself, Liam would fuss and fret for ages. He had even studied medicine specifically to better care for me. Julian and Adrian were no less devoted. When I first arrived in this world, my constitution was weak, and I was constantly battling illnesses. Another time, when a critical condition notice was issued. They had knelt, kowtowing every step of the way, to a thousand-layered Buddhist temple, praying for a peace charm for me. After I recovered, Julian and Adrian, who had been aimless and unmotivated, suddenly turned their lives around. Julian worked tirelessly to build a business and earn money so I could afford medical treatment. Adrian chose pharmacology for his major, determined to create sweet-tasting medicine for me. To accumulate good karma for me, they even rescued an orphan, Leo, who had collapsed in the heavy snow. The entire city of North Point knew that Miss Willow Rhodes was blessed with good fortune, having three brothers who adored her beyond measure. And she had even found an equally devoted tech mogul, Leo, as her childhood sweetheart. As an orphan, I deeply craved this favoritism. After completing the mission, I even refused the rewards, wanting only to stay here with my brothers and Leo. But then Luna Miller appeared. The day they brought her home, my three brothers swore to me as they hugged me. “Willow, she looks so much like our mother, and she has a heart condition just like her. We can’t just ignore her.” “Don’t worry, we’re adopting her to accumulate good karma for you. You’re still our only precious darling.” I believed them and genuinely wanted to embrace her. To show my goodwill, I gave her my room. Every time my brothers returned from a business trip, I’d remind them to bring a gift for Luna too. Feeling sorry that her heart condition prevented her from going to many places, I always brought her along on my dates with Leo. Gradually, Luna became integrated into the family. She would proactively flirt with my brothers for gifts. She would playfully bicker with Leo. But at some point, their attitude towards me subtly shifted. When Luna tripped in front of me, Liam immediately questioned me: “Did you bully Luna?” Julian, on the rare occasion he cooked, only made Hunan dishes, Luna’s favorite. Adrian’s research goal became – to develop a special medication for Luna’s heart condition. Even Leo, during an argument, would blurt out. “Can’t you be more like your sister, and flirt with me more often!” And… they could even conspire to steal my heart for Luna. My emotions surged again. I felt as if my heart had been literally torn out a second time. I wanted to leave this painful place quickly, but in my haste, I slipped and fell. The wounds on my chest and abdomen tore open, and in excruciating pain, I curled up in a ball. My consciousness scattered from the agony, and I instinctively murmured. “Brothers…” Just before I passed out, I saw my brothers and Leo rushing towards me. Liam ran the fastest. He immediately picked me up, sternly reprimanding me. “Willow Rhodes! Just because you saw us all with Luna, you resort to self-harm again to seek attention?!” 3 After being discharged, I was placed under strict surveillance by a caregiver, forbidden from harming myself again. Due to my physical weakness, I could only sit in a wheelchair, and even needed help to use the restroom. Meanwhile, Luna was already freely running and jumping. She danced gracefully in the garden, clad in a pink tulle ballet costume. Leo filmed her on his phone, and my brothers watched her intently, doting smiles on their faces. Feeling utterly devoid of interest, I tried to push my wheelchair away. “Ouch!” With a thud, Luna fell. “Luna!!” The men rushed forward in a panic to help her up. Turning around, I saw Luna pointing at a loose buckle from my wheelchair on the ground, her voice choked with tears. “Sister, I know you blame me for giving you the wrong medicine, which caused you to lose the baby, and that you’re jealous my heart condition is cured while you’re left with heart problems, but…” She suddenly burst into loud sobs, choking out. “But now I can finally dance freely. How could you intentionally throw something to make me fall…” Liam quickly examined Luna’s leg, gently rubbing her reddened calf. Julian’s face was ashen, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “Willow Rhodes! How did we teach you before? How could you become so malicious!” The other three also glared at me with incomprehension and anger. My broken heart felt as if it had been stabbed twice more. I said hoarsely. “I… I didn’t! This part fell off yesterday…” “Still making excuses! We’ve really spoiled you rotten!” Julian was so angry that a vein throbbed in his temple. He raised his hand, poised to strike me. Just as it was about to land on my face, Leo blocked it. “Julian, Willow has just been through too much. We need to give her more time.” Adrian also intervened, “Never mind. Didn’t Luna want to try that new private kitchen? Let’s take her out to celebrate her recovery.” He turned to me, his eyes chilling. “As for you, go home and reflect properly!” Leo wanted to stay with me, but Luna rushed forward, grabbing his hand in front of me and shaking it. “Leo, you come with me too! Didn’t you say you’d treat me to dinner if I behaved well during the surgery?” Leo’s face stiffened. “I should stay home with your sister… she…” I stared intently at their unconsciously intertwined hands, my voice hoarse. “Since Luna wants you to go, then go.” Leo touched my head. “Good wife, then you wait for me patiently at home. I’ll bring you your favorite seafood congee when I get back.” But I slept until 3 AM, and the bed beside me was still empty. Leo hadn’t returned all night. The entire villa was dark, save for the light in Luna’s room. The door wasn’t fully closed. As I approached, I heard the sweet, tearful sobs of a woman. Leo’s voice was low and hoarse. “Quietly, darling, no more. You’ve just…” Luna’s voice was tearful. “Now that my heart is cured, when are you going to divorce her! I knew you before she did! You were always mine!” Leo’s voice was low and gentle. “Sweetheart, you are my true love, but… Willow saved my life. I can’t abandon her. And Liam said if you have a rejection reaction, we’ll still need her blood to save you.” “Leo…” It felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over me from head to toe, a bone-chilling cold. My hands trembling, I clutched my phone, leaned against the wall, and closed my eyes. All night, I listened to their intertwined whispers, their playful banter, and their declarations of love. The next morning. My three brothers, on their way to work, saw me leaning against Luna’s bedroom door. “Willow, why are you here?” I waved at them, then suddenly rushed into Luna’s room. Amidst my three brothers’ astonished expressions, I threw back the covers, and with my phone, snapped pictures of the two naked, embracing figures.

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It was time to pay for health insurance again. My mother called me. “Your father and I aren’t planning to pay this year. We’re both healthy, no need to waste money.” She said this every year, and every year I would volunteer to pay for them. This year, however, I didn’t want to. “If you don’t want to pay, then don’t. Just don’t regret it later.” Mom was silent for a few seconds, then hung up without a word. I knew she was angry, but I felt nothing. It wasn’t that I couldn’t spare the eight hundred dollars. It was that I was fed up with her cruel stupidity. 1 Not long after I hung up, my mother called again. “You don’t need to pay for us either. We don’t need it, and we certainly won’t thank you.” I chuckled humorlessly. “Of course. It’s not like I have money to burn.” Why bother doing something so thankless? Mom said nothing, her breathing growing ragged. I knew she was angry, but I had no desire to appease her. “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up. I’m at work.” “What if you secretly pay for us anyway?” she suddenly blurted out. “After all, you always used to, and you’ve always prided yourself on being a dutiful daughter.” Her sarcastic tone made a sudden irritation flare within me. “What exactly do you want?” “Swear on the baby in your belly. Otherwise, you’ll claim we’re taking advantage of you again.” My hand, holding the phone, unconsciously tightened, almost crushing the device. My husband, Michael, and I got married last year. We’d been trying for a baby for over a year, with two pregnancies. The first ended in miscarriage at two months. The second was now, barely three months along, and showing signs of threatened miscarriage again. She wasn’t asking me to swear; she was cursing my child. This was my own mother, Eleanor Stone. Ever since I was a child, if I ever displeased her in the slightest, she would brutally strike at my weakest points. The more I suffered, the happier she seemed. I clenched my fist, wanting to say, How about I swear on my mother instead? A living adult surely carries more weight than a tiny embryo. But I opened my mouth again and again, yet couldn’t bring myself to utter such vicious words. “What, you don’t dare?” she sneered. “Oh, come on, you’re usually so brave, ignoring us all year.” She knew I couldn’t be that cruel, so she doubled down on her provocation. “You’re on the verge of your second miscarriage and still arguing with me. Can’t you see? Even heaven is on my side.” I trembled with anger, tears welling in my eyes. I hated my tearful outbursts! Not wanting my distress to affect the baby in my belly, I hung up the phone and blocked her number. That evening, my mother posted on social media. “Getting old is truly useless. Can’t even pay for insurance on my phone. My only daughter is married now, busy taking care of her own little family, no time for me at all. What’s the point of living like this? God, please take me away quickly, don’t let me burden my child anymore!” A long message, seemingly self-reproachful, but actually a thinly veiled accusation. Uncle George was the first to comment, asking Mom what was wrong and if she needed help. Aunt Carol quickly followed, urging Mom not to think about doing anything drastic, offering to come stay with her immediately. Tomorrow was Grandma’s birthday. All the children and grandchildren would be there to celebrate. Mom had posted this simply to brand me “unfilial,” then rally everyone to condemn me and force me to submit. Michael looked at me worriedly. “Maybe you shouldn’t go tomorrow. You’re not feeling well right now, and it’s perfectly understandable if you don’t.” I shook my head. I had to go. I couldn’t let her ruin my reputation. I would reveal the truth in front of everyone, letting them know what she did a year ago. As I expected, the next day, upon entering Grandma’s house, I saw Mom leaning on Aunt Carol’s shoulder, wiping away tears. Uncle George looked at me with disapproval. “Bethany, I’m not usually one to lecture, but your mother raised you with such hardship. How can you treat her like this, not even paying for her health insurance!” Aunt Martha chimed in. “For years, my husband and I have had our health insurance paid by your cousin Thomas without even asking. It’s only eight hundred dollars, Beth. A few fewer meals out and you’d have it.” Aunt Carol spoke earnestly. “Your mother said you used to pay for her and your father’s insurance, but this year you suddenly refused. Did your in-laws instigate this? Bethany, don’t mind me for speaking plainly, but you can’t forget your own family for your new one. When things get tough, it’s your own family that will support you.” 2 Seeing everyone in the room speaking up for her, Mom cried even louder. “Ever since she got married last year, she’s changed completely. She doesn’t come home anymore, doesn’t care for her parents. I don’t know what we did wrong to make her hate us so much!” She accused, tears streaming, her swollen eyes making it seem as though she was genuinely suffering immense grievance. I looked at her coldly. “Did I distance myself from you because of my marriage? Last year, I transferred eight hundred dollars to you for health insurance. Did you pay it? What did you do with that money?” Ever since graduating from college and starting work, my paychecks had gone directly to my mother. Last year, when I got married, I wanted my card back. She threw a fit. “Don’t get too love-struck! You’ve only been married three months and you’re already giving your paychecks to his family!” I knew she was unwilling, but I needed money to live my life. Besides, I hadn’t taken a single penny of my sixty-thousand-dollar wedding funds; I’d given it all to her. To appease her, I pulled out my phone to pay for her and Dad’s health insurance. I wanted her to know that taking back my paycheck didn’t mean I wouldn’t care for them anymore. But she shot me a sideways glance. “Don’t bother. Just transfer the money to me, and I’ll take care of it myself.” I couldn’t argue with her, so I did as she asked. Who knew she hadn’t paid the health insurance at all? Instead, she’d put the eight hundred dollars in a gift envelope and ‘adopted’ a goddaughter. “What’s wrong with me adopting a goddaughter? I told you to buy your marital home near our house so it’d be convenient to look after your father and me, but you didn’t listen. Melanie moved in across the street and has often looked after and helped us. She’s much better than you!” Mom jutted out her chin, looking perfectly righteous. I suppressed the turmoil in my heart. “Don’t tell me you don’t know that Melanie bullied me for three years in middle school!” She led the charge to ostracize me, tore up my textbooks, burned my hair with a lighter, publicly pulled up my skirt, and spread vile rumors about me behind my back… For three whole years, she clung to me like a demon. Every single one of her cruel acts still tormented me, even now. Because of her, I didn’t get into a good high school. I even fell into depression, unable to pull myself out, and almost did something terrible. And my own mother had adopted that demon as her goddaughter. Mom scoffed. “Bullying this, bullying that. Was it really that serious? Kids playing together always have squabbles.” “Besides, didn’t she apologize to you later? Why are you still holding a grudge? You’re so petty.” All these years, she hadn’t changed one bit. Just like when I cried and begged her to go to school and stand up for me, she had instead asked: Why do they only bully you, and not others? Aunt Carol also shrugged it off. “Kids fighting is normal. It all happened so long ago, just let it go. You need to be more magnanimous.” Aunt Martha added, “Yes, to give your mother the silent treatment for a whole year over such a small thing, you really hold a grudge.” No one sympathized with me. They only defended Mom, accusing me of overreacting. Seeing this, Mom pressed her advantage. “You don’t even think, why I adopted Melanie as a goddaughter? Isn’t it because you’re unreliable, disappointing and hurting me again and again!” She pointed at her own chest as she spoke. I gave a bitter laugh. “What did I do that made you feel I was unreliable? Was it not buying a house near your home, as you wished? Or taking back my own paycheck from you?” 3 In our small town, a fifteen-minute drive would get you anywhere. All she needed to do was call, and no matter how busy or late it was, I would rush over. My paychecks, though I’d taken them back, I’d left her the sixty-thousand-dollar wedding funds. Was that still not enough? No! Not for her. She knew very well the harm Melanie had inflicted on me. She deliberately adopted her as a goddaughter, just to anger me, to punish my disobedience. “Mom, your need for control is too strong, you want too much. I truly can’t satisfy you.” I am a living, breathing person with my own thoughts, not a puppet on strings. My cousins exchanged glances. “Your paychecks were with your parents before you got married?” “Are you kidding? Of course I keep my own paycheck.” “Do you have to give wedding funds to your parents? I’m not married, I don’t know.” “Wedding funds are seed money for the new family. Parents usually don’t take them.” “So, Bethany’s actually pretty filial, then. Why is Aunt Eleanor still unhappy?” “Who knows? Anyway, I think she’s much more dutiful than I am.” They chatted excitedly in low voices. Uncle George shot them a stern look, and immediately no one dared to speak. Mom stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly stood up and, with a thud, knelt before me. “Bethany, Mom was wrong! Mom willingly gave birth to you and raised you. I shouldn’t ask for anything in return. Just forgive Mom this once! If not, your father and I will go home and take pills to end our lives, guaranteeing we won’t burden you again!” She desperately clutched my sleeve, swearing, refusing to let go no matter how I struggled. “If you don’t forgive Mom today, Mom won’t get up!” The younger relatives stared wide-eyed in astonishment. They never would have dreamed that my mother would do such a thing. “This is awful!” Aunt Carol quickly walked over to help her up, her face filled with sympathy. “Bethany, it’s your Grandma’s birthday today. So many people are here. Must you deliberately humiliate your mother in public?” Uncle George also rose abruptly, his eyes like daggers. “I’m so disappointed in you, Bethany. There are no bad parents in this world. Don’t you fear shortening your life by forcing your mother to kneel before you?” “Apologize to your mother! Then dutifully pay for her health insurance, or don’t blame Aunt Carol and me for not being polite!” I shifted my gaze to Mom. She was wiping away tears, her head bowed, but the secretly upturned corners of her mouth were harder to suppress than a loaded gun. “What are you waiting for? Go quickly!” Aunt Carol grabbed my arm, yanking me forcefully towards Mom. I shook her off. A feeling of helplessness swept over me. I fought back tears, just barely. “The only mistake I made was coming here today!” After quickly saying goodbye to Grandma in the bedroom, I left without looking back. I had lost, utterly defeated. Mom’s knees were the most formidable weapon in the world, and I was defenseless against them. How could I have forgotten? After twenty years of being mother and daughter, I was always the one crushed. To tame me, she would stop at nothing. How could I ever be her match? Back home, Michael comforted me for a long time, but couldn’t help but voice his worry. “Are you really determined not to pay for your parents’ health insurance? I don’t mean anything by it, but they’re almost sixty. If they suddenly get a tricky illness, I’m afraid you’ll still end up picking up the pieces.” “No, I won’t!” I declared decisively. They were both more focused on their health than anyone, and they had money. Besides my wedding funds, their old family home also received thirty thousand in compensation. Adding that to their existing savings, they had at least fifty thousand in their accounts—enough to cover their medical expenses. Seeing my resolute stance, Michael didn’t bring up the subject again. However, fate seemed to be deliberately working against me. Not long after, my mother actually fell ill. Acute viral pneumonia, triggered by the flu. Her condition was very serious.

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1 When my parents pressed us about starting a family, I’d shoulder all the blame, never once revealing her decision to remain child-free. Stumbling upon her kissing her childhood friend goodbye as I took out the trash, I’d pretend not to see a thing, turning back upstairs without a word. Finding her childhood friend’s underwear beneath the pillow, I’d simply wash it, dry it, and fold it neatly. My friends called me a glutton for punishment, a willing cuckold. Even her closest friends whispered that my love for her was incurable, a hopeless devotion. Another evening, returning home to the chaotic scene in our master bedroom, I’d considerately close the door for her. Then I’d put on my headphones and start dinner. As I turned, she was suddenly there, standing in the doorway, her stunning face clouded with an unfamiliar storm. “Alan,” she’d snap, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the kitchen, “Where’s your pride, Alan? The man you used to be?” I feigned deafness, turning back to the sizzling pan. But a bitter pang twisted in my gut. Pride? I was simply trying to avoid repeating the tragedy of my last life. The last dish, one of Isabelle’s favorites, was just placed on the table when Brendan, her childhood friend, fastened the final button on his shirt, admiring himself in the hall mirror. He turned, a smirk playing on his lips, a mixture of smug satisfaction and overt challenge in his eyes. “Alan,” he drawled, a glint in his eye, “I really like that jacket. Why don’t you just give it to me?” My gaze instinctively flickered to Isabelle, seated at the table. She’d been glowering for the past half-hour. She was the one who’d proposed this ‘open arrangement’ a year ago, yet here she was, the picture of discontent. Sure enough, the moment I agreed to hand over the jacket she’d once given me to Brendan, her expression darkened further, a storm gathering on her brow. With a sudden, violent kick, she sent the table leg flying, sending soup splattering across the pristine floor. “Get out!” she spat, her voice laced with venom. Brendan’s smirk faltered, his face shifting almost imperceptibly as he shrugged off the jacket. Brushing past me as I bent to mop the mess, he whispered a low, mocking taunt. “Alan, what kind of man lets himself be treated like this? You’re no better than a doormat. I truly don’t know why Isabelle ever married a pathetic worm like you!” In my past life, that very question had haunted me. Isabelle, the heiress to the powerful Montgomery family, had been pampered and adored from birth, accustomed to wielding immense influence. In stark contrast, my own family, the Harrisons, was of modest means, a quiet household with no grand lineage. Until my dying breath in that previous existence, I’d tormented myself with the same agonizing questions: Did Isabelle truly love me? Why did she marry me? If she did, then why… why had she treated me with such cruelty? Having faced a brutal death once, I no longer wrestled with those thoughts. I simply didn’t care anymore. She could do whatever she pleased, as long as it meant avoiding the tragedy of my past. The moment Brendan stepped out the door, Isabelle swept her arm across the dining table, sending all the meticulously prepared dishes crashing to the floor. A soup bowl shattered at my feet, the scalding liquid splashing onto my calf. A searing pain shot through me, spreading from my skin to somewhere deep within my chest, forcing a sharp gasp from my lips. Yet, even then, no anger flared within me. I simply limped over to grab the broom, beginning to sweep up the shards and spilled food. Behind me, Isabelle’s voice ripped through the silence. “Alan,” she shrieked, “Look at yourself! Do you even see how pathetic you are right now? What happened to your pride? I know I’ve wronged you, but you don’t have to deliberately sicken me like this!” I paused, then slowly turned, my gaze utterly vacant, a void where emotion once resided. “Isn’t this precisely what you wanted?” I asked, my voice flat. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she took a ragged breath. “Alan, you’re truly something else!” she spat, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Fine, then! If you’re so brave, just hide away like a coward forever!” With that, she snatched her jacket and stormed out, the front door slamming shut with a deafening bang that echoed through the empty house. My first instinct was to follow her. But then I stopped myself. There was no point. Every time we argued, Isabelle would seek solace in Brendan. In my past life, I’d witnessed her countless times, her head buried in Brendan’s embrace. It had left me red-eyed, hysterical, lashing out in a desperate rage, only to be met with a searing slap across my face, delivered with all her strength. “Brendan and I grew up together, Alan. You have no right to lay a hand on him!” I sank to my knees, beginning to pick up the scattered glass shards. My phone rang, a furious roar erupting the moment I answered. “Alan, when in God’s name are you going to divorce Isabelle? Brendan just publicly announced their relationship on social media, for crying out loud!” I tapped open the social media app. The very first post was a jarring image of intertwined hands. On the woman’s ring finger, a wedding band glittered, catching the light and piercing my eyes like tiny daggers. I stared at it for two silent seconds, then closed the photo, returning to my mindless task of cleaning. Divorce? Impossible. Unless Isabelle initiated it herself, I would never divorce her. In my past life, I’d already endured the bitter aftermath of our divorce, and I wouldn’t go through it again. 2 Isabelle didn’t return that night, and I slept surprisingly well. I rose promptly, prepared a comforting broth, and headed to the hospital to visit Mother. At the hospital, Mother set her soup bowl down, her gaze drifting towards the door for the third time. “Alan, dear,” she began, “Have you spoken to Isabelle about having children yet? It’s not that I’m nagging, but Isabelle will be thirty soon. The older she gets, the more difficult it will be to conceive…” I was peeling an apple. At her words, the knife slipped, nicking my finger. A droplet of blood welled up, the sharp sting bringing me back to reality, yet I replied, my voice perfectly steady, without a trace of a blush. “Mother, I’m not in a hurry.” “Is it you who’s not in a hurry, Alan, or is it Isabelle who doesn’t want children?” A mother knows her son best. Mother began to cough, agitated, and the entire hospital bed rattled violently beneath her. “Alan, tell me the truth!” she gasped, her voice strained. “Are those pictures online real? What exactly is happening between you and Isabelle?” I frantically pressed the emergency call button, gently rubbing her back to help her breathe. Just before she lost consciousness, Mother clutched my arm, her voice a desperate, rasping whisper. “Alan, if our family line ends with you, how will I ever face your father in the afterlife?” The doctors arrived promptly. After a quick examination, they assured me it was merely a brief fainting spell brought on by extreme emotional distress. The doctor patted my shoulder. “Your mother’s condition is improving daily. Don’t worry.” I forced a brittle smile, but the moment I reached an secluded corridor, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I slammed my fist into the wall, a torrent of long-held tears finally breaking free, falling so heavily they felt as though they could melt the very ground beneath me. Mother’s convulsions on the bed had mirrored, with terrifying accuracy, the scene of her passing in my previous life. In that past existence, after I’d discovered Isabelle’s undeniable intimacy with Brendan, I had insisted on a divorce. Under Isabelle’s relentless pressure, I was forced to leave with nothing but the clothes on my back. For Mother’s sake, I had hidden the truth from her. I took on eight part-time jobs, grueling shifts every day, just to scrape together enough for her medical bills. When hunger gnawed at me, I’d eat stale bread soaked in water. When thirst became unbearable, I’d drink tap water from public restrooms. In a mere month, I’d lost twenty pounds, my body a shadow of its former self. Several times, dizzy from low blood sugar, I’d almost caused a traffic accident while on a delivery. Just when I’d finally saved a million dollars, Mother suffered a sudden heart attack and was rushed into the emergency room. It turned out that Mother, not having seen Isabelle in quite some time, had called to check on her. But it was Brendan who answered the phone. He didn’t just reveal the truth about our divorce; he also sent Mother photos of me, looking utterly subservient, working multiple humble jobs to pay her medical bills. And worse, undeniable proof of his affair with Isabelle. Watching the monitor replay Mother spitting blood and convulsing on the spot, a pain sharper than any knife twisted in my gut. Though the doctors managed to snatch Mother from the jaws of death, they delivered another crushing blow. I needed to gather another one and a half million dollars for her surgery within three days. Otherwise, Mother’s fate would be unthinkable. I called every friend, former boss, and distant relative I knew, pleading for help. Some stammered, making excuses. “I’m sorry, Alan,” one friend said hesitantly, “Isabelle made it clear that anyone who helps you will be going against the entire Montgomery family.” Others simply cursed me out on the spot. “No money, and even if I did, I wouldn’t lend it to you! Don’t you dare call me again! If you drag me into your mess, I’ll never forgive you!” On the third day, utterly desperate, I swallowed my pride and went to Isabelle. The defiant air I’d carried the day of our divorce was long gone, replaced by knees that buckled and a voice that was nothing more than a hoarse, desperate plea. Isabelle looked down at me, a flicker of cold satisfaction in her eyes. “I can save your mother, Alan, but on one condition.” “Marry me again.” My heart, already a barren wasteland, agreed to her terms in that instant. Isabelle immediately mobilized the nation’s top medical team, crafting a meticulous treatment plan for Mother. She even flew in the world’s most renowned specialist to perform Mother’s surgery. Just as I dared to believe everything was finally in place, that Mother would at last live a long and healthy life… On the day of the surgery, the specialist vanished without a trace. Mother lay anesthetized on the operating table, her life hanging by a fragile thread. I dialed Isabelle’s number ninety-nine times, each call going unanswered. On the hundredth try, she finally picked up. I crumpled to the floor, sobbing so hard I felt like I would vomit. “Isabelle, where have you taken the doctor? My mother is dying, she won’t survive without this surgery! Please, Isabelle, she’ll die! I beg you, save her! She’s the only family I have left!” After a long, agonizing silence, Brendan’s voice drifted through the phone. “Isabelle, who are you talking to?” My heart plummeted to the depths of despair. All my desperate pleas, reduced to a cruel joke. Isabelle hung up immediately. Just then, the hospital finally managed to secure a surgeon from another facility, rushing them in to take over. Tragically, it was a step too late. In her final moments, Mother clutched my hand tightly, spitting blood, her body wracked with violent tremors. “Alan… don’t cry… Mother will always watch over you from heaven… My Alan… you must… find happiness…” Clutching Mother’s urn, I wandered through the biting winter streets like a ghost, aimless and hollow. As I rode a taxi towards the cemetery, my phone buzzed with a trending news alert. #Brendan’s Car Accident: Isabelle Sheds Tears of Concern# The string of words pierced my vision like sharp needles. I clicked the link, my gaze locking onto the image of the specialist, the very same specialist, bandaging Brendan’s arm. My hands trembled so violently I almost dropped the urn cradled in my arms. A mere scrape on Brendan’s arm! And for that, Isabelle had whisked away the expert, personally sealing Mother’s fate! Standing in the bitter snow, I threw my head back and let out a guttural laugh, tears streaming down my pale, frozen face. Given a second chance, I wouldn’t dare to gamble anymore. I couldn’t. In this life, all I wanted was for Mother to be safe and well. Everything else was irrelevant. I slowly pushed myself up, wiping the lingering tears from my eyes. Returning to the hospital room, Mother was awake. I gripped her hand tightly, my face a mask of calm. “Mother,” I said, my voice steady, “it truly is my decision not to have children. It has nothing to do with Isabelle. Those online photos are baseless rumors, Mother. Please don’t believe them. Isabelle and I… we’re perfectly fine.” After soothing Mother’s worries, I arrived home around eight that evening. Isabelle, uncharacteristically, was home before me. She reeked of alcohol, sprawled on the sofa, muttering incoherently to herself. Out of habit, I went into the kitchen to prepare her a hangover remedy. As I cooled the soup to feed her, she suddenly cupped my face in her hands. Her blurry, drunken state brought back a painful memory from my past life: the time she’d whispered Brendan’s name while in my arms. I, who never suffered from insomnia, spent that night wide awake, finally driven to check her phone for the very first time. The intimate photos and messages I found felt like countless sharp knives tearing at my heart, leaving it raw and bleeding. “Alan…” The unexpected use of my name startled me. The next moment, she had me pinned against the sofa. Her drunken eyes gleamed with an unnerving intensity, as if they could pierce through every thought in my mind. “Alan.” She spoke again, her voice laced with a subtle, almost imperceptible tremor of hurt. “Do you… do you still love me, Alan? I don’t know… I feel like you don’t care about me as much as you used to…” Before I could formulate an answer, Isabelle burrowed her face against my ear, her voice a mere whisper, yet strangely resolute. “No, you can’t not love me, Alan. You just care too much, that’s why you’ve become like this.” My mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, a bitter, chaotic swirl. Only one truth remained starkly clear. The Alan who had loved Isabelle was long dead. 3 The next morning, Isabelle seemed to have completely forgotten her drunken words. She retreated to the attic and stayed there for a long time. I had just set breakfast on the table when she stormed down the stairs, her movements frantic. The moment she opened her mouth, her voice was ablaze with fury. “Alan, where are my father’s paintings?!” I paused, feigning ignorance. “What paintings?” I asked, though I knew exactly what she meant. At my reply, her face, contorted with rage, practically lunged at me. “The art, Alan! The collection your father left in the attic! Who else but you would touch that garbage?” Those last two words, ‘that garbage,’ struck my already fractured heart with crushing force. A flicker of bitter irony crossed my gaze. To her, those invaluable pieces of art were indeed just garbage. But in Brendan’s eyes, that ‘garbage’ was a golden ticket, enough to launch his career and make a name for himself in the art world. In my previous life, barely had Mother been laid to rest when Brendan used my father’s collection to host his own exhibition. His reputation soared, and he was hailed as a genius art master overnight. I recognized those very artworks in a livestream, pieces that had comforted me day and night, urging me to carry on. Fueled by a raw, searing fury, I hailed a taxi to the exhibition, causing an absolute scene. When reporters asked Isabelle if the artworks were indeed Brendan’s creations, she nodded without a moment’s hesitation. “I watched Brendan create them with my own eyes,” she’d declared. “As for my ex-husband…” She glanced at me, a fleeting moment of hesitation in her gaze. But then it hardened, becoming utterly merciless. “He’s merely bitter after our divorce, seeking malicious revenge and trying to destroy my closest friend.” Overnight, I became a trending topic, vilified across every platform. Every day, strangers would throw foul liquids, symbols of bad luck and disgrace, at the door of my rental apartment. Some even sought out my parents’ graves, desecrating their tombstones with kicks, curses, and spit. In that abyss of despair, I lost all will to live. I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills. But Isabelle had me rushed to the hospital, where they brought me back from the brink. She sat there, her eyes red-rimmed, clutching my hand in a death grip. “Alan, let’s stop fighting. Never again.” I nodded weakly. But the moment she left the hospital to buy my favorite peach pastries, I climbed to the rooftop and leapt. I landed squarely in front of her. This time, I vowed not only to protect Mother but also to safeguard my father’s precious legacy. I spoke, my face utterly devoid of emotion. “Those paintings? I already threw them out.” Isabelle’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you insane?! Who told you to throw them away? Go get them back, right now! Brendan needs them urgently!” But no matter how frantic she became, I simply maintained an expression that conveyed utter helplessness, as if they were gone forever. Watching her storm out, I let out a long, slow breath. The heavy stone that had been weighing on my heart finally crashed to the ground. As usual, I prepared dinner and headed to the hospital to visit Mother. On my way, a livestream with over a hundred million views blared onto my phone screen, instantly grabbing my attention. #Brendan: The Calligraphy Prodigy# The headline struck me like a physical blow, leaving me gasping. With trembling fingers, I tapped into the livestream. Seeing my father’s precious artworks hanging prominently in the exhibition hall, bearing Brendan’s name, was like plummeting into a frozen abyss. I was instantly transported back to that long, snowy night in my previous life when Mother had died. I frantically dialed Isabelle’s number, while simultaneously rushing to the hospital, a growing dread clawing at my throat. Pushing open the door, I saw Mother peacefully knitting a tiny hat on her hospital bed—a hat for a child that would never exist. Seeing my breathless, panicked face, Mother’s expression subtly shifted. “What’s wrong, Alan? Has something happened?” I forced down the rising tide of fear and unease within me, managing only a grimace that was meant to be a smile, and shook my head. I took Mother’s phone and quickly blocked and uninstalled every app or channel that could possibly expose her to my father’s stolen art. Only then did I feel a sliver of relief, pushing Mother’s wheelchair out for a gentle stroll in the hospital garden. Midway through our stroll, I received a phone call. When I returned, Mother was gone. At that exact moment, a nurse’s frantic shriek echoed through the hospital lobby. “Doctor! Help! A patient has collapsed, spitting blood!” I pushed through the throng of people, and the identical, horrifying scene from my past life slammed into my vision. Mother lay on the floor, her limbs convulsing, blood flecking her lips. And above her, blaring from a large screen in the lobby, was Brendan’s live exhibition broadcast. “Mother—” Outside the operating room, I knelt on the cold floor, my bloodied hands clasped together in desperate prayer, begging for her life to be spared. After what felt like an eternity, the doctor emerged, shaking his head slowly. “I’m so sorry, but… there was nothing more we could do.” The world spun around me, then dissolved into darkness. I collapsed to the floor, my face ashen and lifeless. As I walked out of the hospital gates, clutching Mother’s urn, Brendan’s exhibition was reaching its triumphant conclusion. Isabelle stood beside him, a picture of perfect harmony, a match made in hell, perhaps. I felt no hatred, no anger. Only the crushing numbness of a heart utterly deadened by grief. It seemed even with a second chance, I was powerless to protect the ones I held most dear. Now, I had nothing left to lose. Isabelle, goodbye. No, not just goodbye. Never again. Mother’s dying wish for me to find happiness echoed relentlessly in my ears. I lowered my head and drafted a timed message, a divorce notification set to send automatically. “Congratulations, Isabelle. You’re finally free of me, forever.” Then, with nothing but a small suitcase, I walked out into the encroaching night, vanishing without a trace.

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News spread through the city’s elite: Darius Lorre, the arrogant heir of the Lorre family, had been in a terrible car crash. Blinded and paralyzed, doctors said he’d never walk or have children again. The news reached the Beaumont estate. My older sister, Sylvie, a famous celebrity, broke down in tears and knelt before me, begging me to take her place in the arranged marriage. I curled my lip and coldly kicked her hand away. “When the Lorres were a top dynasty, they specifically asked for a Beaumont heiress. To lift you up, they erased me from the family register, labeled me illegitimate, and made you the only Miss Beaumont.” My voice was low and threatening. “Now that Darius is blind and crippled, you suddenly remember me? Dream on!” Before I finished, Gareth Maxwell kicked the unlocked door open. He swept Sylvie up and glared at me with pure disgust. “Seraphina, don’t be ungrateful. This engagement was always meant for you. This is just fixing things!” He threw a prenup at me. “Tomorrow, Sylvie and I get our marriage license. As for the Lorres, you’re marrying him!” I froze, my chest tightening as if filled with a vinegar-soaked sponge, a hollow ache spreading inside. … “The Lorres want a Beaumont heiress,” I countered, my voice tight. “I’m merely an ‘illegitimate daughter’ whose name isn’t even on the family register. If I marry him, that’s commercial fraud!” Just then, my parents, Richard and Eleanor Beaumont, stormed in, their faces grim. They tossed a brand new household register and a share transfer deed onto the coffee table. “Starting tomorrow, your identity as the Beaumont heiress will be publicly restored. Sylvie is a public figure; she cannot endure a lifetime of loneliness, let alone the torment of that madman Darius,” Eleanor stated, her voice flat. “You will marry him, settle in as Mrs. Lorre. This is for the good of the family.” Looking at my utterly biased family of three, a laugh bubbled up, quickly turning to tears. My heart, once a fragile thing, solidified into a block of ice. “Fine. I’ll marry him. I hope you don’t regret this to your dying day.” My concession instantly eased the tension in the room. My father, Richard, grinned, praising my maturity. My mother, Eleanor, exhaled in relief, commending my sensibility. Gareth, ecstatic, lifted Sylvie into his arms and spun her around twice, relief washing over him. “Oh, Sylvie, this is wonderful! You won’t have to be ruined by that blind man! We’ll make our announcement tomorrow!” Sylvie, sniffling in his embrace, forced a watery smile, as if she’d narrowly escaped disaster. I watched them, my gaze cold, then spoke, enunciating each word. “But I have a condition.” Their smiles stiffened, and all four faces immediately clouded over. They demanded to know what it was. My voice was as calm as if I were negotiating a business deal. “There can only be one Beaumont heiress. I want Sylvie to publicly acknowledge she’s adopted, and return all the status and shares that rightfully belong to me.” Eleanor’s composure snapped. “Seraphina Beaumont, don’t be so excessive! Sylvie’s status is impeccable; she won’t interfere with you. Must you ruin her?” I looked at the woman who had given birth to me, my chest aching as if stabbed by a thousand needles. “I am your biological daughter! From childhood, why did you lavish so much affection on an adopted child, even helping her steal everything that was mine?” Her face hardened, her voice brittle. “If Sylvie’s biological mother hadn’t taken a blade for me, I would be dead! I owe it to her to treat Sylvie well!” Right. Six months ago, after Sylvie’s birth mother—who had been our housekeeper—passed away, my mother had become inexplicably obsessed with Sylvie, doting on her to an absurd degree. When the news of the Lorre engagement first broke, Sylvie expressed interest, and my mother immediately pressured my father to alter my family registration, effectively exiling me to the countryside. When I returned to confront her, she had me locked in the basement for three days without food, claiming I “lacked propriety.” Shaking myself back to the present, I took a deep breath, suppressing the burning in my eyes. “So, for the sake of gratitude, you’ll disregard your own daughter’s well-being? Even push her into the jaws of hell?” A thought struck me. “Do you have some leverage she holds over you?” Eleanor’s eyes darted away, refusing to address the question. Gareth, his face cold, interjected, “Sylvie is simply naive and timid, not like your scheming, calculating self. Aunt Eleanor, being kind-hearted, naturally favors the more vulnerable one.” Richard lit a cigarette, sighing. “It’s come to this. For the sake of the Group’s interests, we can only let you marry Darius. I’m sorry, Seraphina. Don’t hate me.” My father had once loved me, but he was a man easily swayed by my mother and ultimately, a self-serving individual. Faced with Eleanor’s insistent whispers and the Group’s bottom line, my sacrifice was insignificant. Sylvie dabbed at her eyes again, her voice feigning fragility. “Sister, just agree. No matter what, it’s still the Lorre family. Even a fallen giant holds more sway than an ordinary man. No one would dare bully you.” “No one would bully me?” I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping. “Who in this city doesn’t know that Darius is now volatile and unpredictable? Not only is he blind, his mind is twisted. Do you not know what happened to his previous fiancées?” My voice dropped, chillingly precise. “The Lorre family is currently embroiled in severe infighting, and Darius is losing his grip on power. Once he’s completely sidelined, his enemies will tear him apart! You claim you’re sending me to live a life of luxury, but in reality, you’re sending me to my death!” My family exchanged wary glances, momentarily speechless. I smirked, pressing my advantage. “My reclaiming the heiress status is also for the Beaumonts’ benefit. What if the Lorre family discovers you tried to fob them off with an illegitimate child? If they retaliate, will the Beaumont Group’s stock still hold its value?” I watched Richard’s hand tremble at the mention of the stock price. “So, I want you to issue a public statement, clarifying to the entire network that I, Seraphina Beaumont, am the only true Beaumont heiress.” He nodded frantically. “Yes, yes, we’ll do as you say. I’ll have the statement released first thing tomorrow morning.” The other three wanted to object but, cowed by the Lorre family’s formidable reputation, dared not utter a sound. I offered a small, predatory smile. “Fine. The moment that announcement is public, I’ll pack myself up and send myself straight to the Lorre estate.” 2 The next day, the public clarification regarding the true and false Beaumont heiress dominated the trending topics. The entire network was buzzing, siding with me. It turned out the “illegitimate daughter” who had been universally reviled was the true heiress, while Sylvie, who had meticulously crafted her image as a socialite, was merely adopted, and was now returning my status to escape the arranged marriage. Sylvie had planned to announce her engagement to Gareth and get married today, but the public backlash was so severe she didn’t dare leave her room. She spent the entire day locked away, smashing things, refusing to eat or drink. My parents brought her countless limited-edition designer bags, but nothing could soothe her. Gareth, seething with rage, burst into my room. He grabbed my throat, his eyes blazing crimson. “Sylvie is overwhelmed by the public backlash, on the verge of a breakdown! Is this what you wanted to see?” Suffocating, I clawed at his arm, forcing out a few strained words. “You… choke me… to death… and Sylvie… will still have to marry… that blind man…” He recoiled violently, as if I were something vile and contaminated. I clutched my throat, coughing uncontrollably, greedily gasping for air. When my breath finally steadied, I looked up, my gaze glacial. “Was anything in that statement untrue? The public’s eyes are keen, Gareth. They’re simply speaking the truth.” Gareth was left speechless, his jaw clenched, then pleaded through gritted teeth, “Can’t you release a statement? Just say you concealed your identity for personal growth, that it had nothing to do with Sylvie?” “Dream on!” I retorted, my voice sharp and uncompromising. “If Sylvie does something foolish, I swear I’ll never forgive you!” I scoffed disdainfully. “I don’t know whether she’ll die or not. But I do know this: if I die, the Lorre wedding procession will be pulling up to my funeral parlor tomorrow.” “You!” Gareth’s forehead pulsed with visible veins, his fists clenching until his knuckles cracked. Yet, he didn’t dare lay another hand on me. “Fine, Seraphina Beaumont, you’ve got guts! I’ll just wait to see you marry that lunatic, wait until you’re thrown out on the streets to die!” Watching him slam the door behind him, my heart felt like it was being sawed through with a dull blade. The boy who had once sworn he would marry no one but me had, at some point, lost his sight and blackened his heart. He even wished for my death with such venom. A single tear splattered onto the back of my hand, scalding hot. I wiped it away, the last fragile thread of affection in my heart snapping cleanly. That night, my mother, Eleanor, suddenly burst into my room, wielding a golf club. She ordered two bodyguards to pin me to the floor, leaving me utterly helpless. I struggled fiercely, screaming, “Mother, what are you doing?! I’m marrying into the Lorre family tomorrow! I’m Darius Lorre’s fiancée! How dare you lay a hand on me?!” She ignored me completely. Turning, she handed the golf club to Sylvie, whose eyes were swollen like peaches. Eleanor’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “Sylvie, darling, go ahead. Hit her as many times as you like, anywhere you want! Mother needs to help you get this anger out!” A flash of malicious glee flickered in Sylvie’s eyes. She seized the club and brought it down with brutal force across my back. “Ah—” I screamed in agony, gritting my teeth as I warned, “Darius may be blind, but he’s not dead yet! Do you really want to die, touching his fiancée?!” Sylvie, as if possessed, continued to strike my back, blow after blow. Her strength wasn’t immense, but her aim was viciously precise, repeatedly targeting the same spot. The searing pain made my vision swim, and cold sweat instantly drenched my clothes. My mother stood by, watching with chilling indifference, even adding fuel to the fire: “You haven’t married him yet! As long as you’re in this house, I have every right to discipline you!” With my mother’s backing, Sylvie grew even more brazen: “Mother’s right! You made me a laughingstock online. If I don’t get my revenge, how am I supposed to sleep tonight?! Anyway, there’s still a whole night. As long as I don’t hit your face, what can that blind man see if you just put on some thick powder?” Just as I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness from the pain, my father, Richard, suddenly ran in, panting. “Stop! Don’t hit her! The Lorre family just called; the wedding ceremony has been moved up to first thing tomorrow morning!”

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1 When Julian found me, I was picking out a burial plot for my deceased husband, Ashton. The one I truly liked was too expensive, but the cheaper options felt like I’d be shortchanging him. Lost in thought, Julian asked if I would remarry him. The refusal died on my lips, turning into a cautious whisper: “If we remarry, will the allowance still be half a million a month?” Julian looked at me, surprised. After all, the old me used to scorn money. He nodded, a perplexing pang of tenderness in his eyes: “Yes, as long as you’re a faithful and obedient wife.” I agreed without hesitation and began to learn how to be a good wife. I stopped checking up on him, stopped demanding he remember anniversaries, and stopped asking him to keep his distance from his female friends. But then he screamed, “I just want you to listen to me, not to stop loving me!” … Julian found me while I was selecting a burial plot for my late husband, Ashton. I still wore a camellia, a symbol of mourning, in my hair. The thought of him spending all his savings to cure my illness, and then sacrificing his life to save me in the earthquake, brought tears to my eyes. We should have been on our honeymoon… Just as I succumbed to grief, Julian sat across from me. He critically scrutinized my outfit. Once adorned in designer wear, I now wore a faded hoodie with a stretched collar and worn-out jeans. I was a far cry from my former opulent self. He frowned. “You look like a ghost after leaving me.” It took me a moment to recognize him. My ex-husband, divorced for five years. Seeing my silence, Julian assumed I was overcome with joy. He said indifferently: “If you just admit your mistake, I’ll remarry you. How about it?” I was about to refuse, but then I remembered the burial plot I’d just seen – a seven-figure price tag. I could deliver takeout my entire life and still not afford it. With that thought, I cautiously asked him, “If we remarry, will the allowance still be half a million a month?” Julian gazed at me in silence, his eyes holding a tenderness I didn’t quite understand. He said, “As long as you’re well-behaved, I’ll give you a million. But if you act up and get suspicious like before, I’ll…” Before he could finish, I quickly raised my hand and promised, “I understand, I’ll be good.” Julian seemed surprised. He asked, “Are you sure you’ve thought it through? You used to… you weren’t so agreeable before.” I smiled wryly. “Mr. Caldwell, you said it yourself. That was before.” Before, I was cherished by him, the envy of everyone in New York, Mrs. Caldwell, the most acclaimed genius designer. Whether relying on him or on myself, I could live very well. But now, my reputation was ruined, and his childhood friend had issued a “blacklist” against me, making it impossible to find a decent job in New York. Had I not met Ashton, I would probably be a forgotten mess at the bottom of a cliff. Where was my former dignity? Julian’s expression shifted slightly. He frowned and asked, “What did you call me? Mr. Caldwell?” Looking at me, seemingly compliant but always distant, Julian felt like his heart was soaking in water. Wet, heavy… Afraid of angering him, afraid of losing the million, I quickly explained, “Did you forget? You were the one who told me not to call you ‘husband.’” Julian’s face instantly paled. He remembered, remembered our secret marriage. I worked as the chief designer at his company. Publicly, everyone thought I was just an employee he highly valued. And to keep up appearances, he never let me call him “husband.” So, all along, I had called him “Mr. Caldwell.” Julian looked annoyed. He rubbed his temples and said, “Back then, you were at the company, and we needed to be discreet. Now, we don’t.” A myriad of aches pulsed in my heart. Yes, there was no need now. My proud career had been utterly destroyed by him. I no longer had to pretend to be his employee. Julian couldn’t stand my silence. He got up and said irritably, “Come home with me.” I obediently rose and followed him into his Cadillac Escalade. As soon as I stepped inside, I froze. The interior was pink, and there were selfies of Julian and Audrey plastered everywhere. Audrey was his childhood friend, and the catalyst for our divorce back then. Julian saw me staring at the photos in a daze and quickly explained, a hint of panic in his voice, “Audrey recently got hurt, and my mom insisted she stay at my place so I could drive her to and from work.” “You know how innocent and whimsical she is, she likes these childish things, so…” Before he could finish, I interrupted him with a smile, “They’re actually quite cute.” Julian looked at my calm, unruffled face and asked, “You don’t mind?” I shook my head, smiling. “What’s there to mind? You two are childhood friends, practically siblings.” “If anything were going to happen between you, it would have happened ages ago. I wouldn’t even be in the picture, would I?” 2 I thought Julian would be pleased by my words, but his face darkened a shade. I didn’t understand why he was angry. These were the very words he used to say to me when I was jealous. Sadly, back then, I never believed in pure male-female friendships, so even when he said that, I still demanded he keep his distance from Audrey. He outwardly agreed but secretly continued to be inseparable from Audrey, until I caught them at a party. I went mad, hitting and yelling at him, only to suffer terribly myself. Had he forgotten all that? But I had no time for him. I lowered my head and played with my phone, calculating when I could save enough money to buy the burial plot. Julian felt a strange absurdity. He hadn’t expected that in just five years, I would so calmly accept his relationship with Audrey. But… it shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t I be reprimanding him for crossing the line? Gazing at my serene profile, Julian reassured himself, “It must be because she doesn’t want to leave me again, so she doesn’t dare to get angry.” At this point, I remembered Ashton’s photos were still in the apartment, so I suggested Julian take me there first. Julian flatly refused, his face full of disdain: “Do you think our villa has room for your junk?” “Just call the landlord, have him terminate the lease, and clear out your things.” I opened my mouth, intending to say it wasn’t a rented apartment, but then I thought better of it and simply nodded. That twenty-square-meter apartment was Ashton’s legacy to me. No need for others to know. The rest of the drive was silent. Half an hour later, I stood before what used to be our marital home. In the yard, the sycamore tree I had planted with my own hands, after five years of wind and rain, looked even more vibrant. I was a little surprised because I remembered Julian saying he would uproot it when I left. It was unexpected that after five years, the tree was still thriving. Julian came to my side, explaining self-consciously, “I consulted a feng shui master who said this sycamore tree brings me luck, so I didn’t dig it up.” I nodded, finding it a bit strange why he felt the need to explain. I wasn’t so conceited as to think he kept the tree because he still had feelings for me. I was still waiting, even now, for him to tell me the real reason for our remarriage. Soon, I would know the reason – it turned out he wanted to remarry, still for his little childhood friend. The front door opened from the inside, and I saw Audrey, pale-faced, being supported by a maid. She smiled and asked, “Julian, you’re back?” I already knew she was living here from the drive over, so I naturally nodded at Audrey. “Ms. Rosenstock, long time no see.” Audrey seemed surprised by my composure. She wore her usual fake smile and said affectionately, “Sister-in-law, long time no see.” “I told Julian my birthday wish was for him to get back with you, and I can’t believe he actually brought you back.” “It seems Julian is still my Santa Claus, granting all my wishes.” If it were the past, hearing those words would have deeply hurt me. My return, it seemed, was due to another woman’s birthday wish. But now, far from being upset, I said with genuine gratitude, “Thank you, Ms. Rosenstock. Mr. Caldwell mentioned you were injured? Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” This time, Audrey completely lost her composure, staring at me in shock, forgetting to respond. Julian also looked at me, stunned, trying to detect any pretense in my eyes, but found only sincerity. That strange feeling in his heart grew stronger. He quickly explained, “Audrey’s just joking with you. You’re my wife, and my decision to remarry you was naturally well-considered.” I smiled and flattered him, “You’re the CEO of Caldwell Group. Any decision you make is naturally well-thought-out.” “Ms. Rosenstock’s words are just a suggestion. I understand, I completely understand.” Even after I said that, Julian still wasn’t satisfied. He scowled at me, his eyes holding an intensity I couldn’t decipher. I gazed back at him, bewildered. He finally crumbled under my clear gaze, turning away and walking into the living room in a huff. I followed closely, but Audrey stopped me at the door. Audrey whispered in my ear, “Five years apart, your manipulative tactics have certainly improved.” “Too bad, in the face of absolute favoritism, your feigned indifference is useless.” “To be frank, Julian brought you back because I can’t have children. He wants you to have a child for me, so I can smoothly marry into the Caldwell family.” My heart jolted. Have a child? I unconsciously touched my lower abdomen. There, once, was a child too, but sadly, his father had personally caused his demise. 3 I still vividly remember the look of disgust in Julian’s eyes back then. He said, “A malicious woman like you doesn’t deserve to bear my child.” Now, five years later, he wanted me to have his child. But I couldn’t have children anymore. If Julian found out, would he kick me out? And that burial plot… With that thought, I secretly resolved that Julian must never know this. Just then, Audrey suddenly shrieked and recoiled, her eyes red as she asked, “Sister-in-law, if you don’t like me, you can just say so… why did you step on my foot?” Beside her, the maid also indignantly accused me, “Madam, Ms. Rosenstock already has a foot injury. With that step, she’ll probably be in pain for a while again.” “You really are…” Facing these two drama queens, I raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, then immediately apologized, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” I was long accustomed to Audrey’s two-faced antics. In the past, I’d often complained to Julian about her being a scheming woman. Unfortunately, Julian never believed me, saying I was mad with jealousy and maliciously misinterpreting an innocent young girl. Even though this “young girl” was a month older than me. So, I didn’t plan to explain to Julian but immediately offered a frank apology. Not far away, Julian’s face darkened. Seeing him look over, I assumed he would scold me as he used to, and volunteered, “I know it wasn’t intentional, but I did hurt Ms. Rosenstock.” “I accept the punishment. I’ll go to the attic now.” With that, I headed towards the attic. The attic housed a solitary room, a confinement space Julian had specially prepared for me. Every time I “hurt” Audrey or defied him, he would make me go in there to reflect. For twenty-four hours, no food or water. Initially, I resisted and struggled, but eventually, after losing my child in there, I developed claustrophobia. From then on, I would only cry uncontrollably and beg for mercy. Fortunately, I was no longer afraid of the dark. During that earthquake, I was trapped in the small world Ashton had created for me, pitch black and bloodied. Yet, from his rapidly fading life, I felt the most passionate love. He led me out of that last psychological shadow. It’s just that, this time, the price was too high. Unconsciously, my eyes reddened. When Julian grabbed my wrist, he saw this very scene – my head bowed submissively, no resentment in my eyes, only a trace of hurt. Like a fawn abandoned in the wilderness by its mother. Julian’s heart ached. The surge of nameless anger that had just flared up was instantly extinguished. He asked helplessly, “When did I say I was sending you to the confinement room?” I asked, flattered, “Oh? I really don’t have to go?” My reaction instantly stung Julian’s eyes. He even felt some regret for how he had treated me in the past. He awkwardly explained, “I confined you back then because you were too disobedient, you made a mistake and were stubborn, so I wanted to teach you a lesson.” “Now, you didn’t do it on purpose, and your apology was sincere, so you don’t need to be punished.” He said, looking at Audrey who stood not far away, and smiled gently, “Besides, Audrey is so kind, how could she let you be punished for such a small thing?” Audrey’s facade almost crumbled. She looked at me with a hint of unfamiliarity. A stiff smile played on her lips, and she nodded, “Yes, sister-in-law, you make me seem overbearing.” I shook my head, quickly explaining, “I didn’t mean that, I just got used to it…” Audrey immediately said, feigning hurt, “I knew it, sister-in-law is still blaming me. It was my thoughtlessness back then, my lack of boundaries, that caused a rift between you two.” “Sister-in-law, I’m sorry, I formally apologize to you.” Julian looked at me suspiciously. I knew he was doubting me, thinking I was up to my old tricks again. I had just avoided punishment, and I certainly didn’t want Audrey to manipulate me back into trouble. I said with genuine sincerity, “How could I? I stopped caring about all that a long time ago.” “Oh, right, don’t you like my steamed sea bass?” “I’ll go to the market right now, buy one, and make it for you.” “Once you’ve had my fish, you can’t bring up old grievances, okay?” My words stopped Audrey’s act. She looked at me awkwardly as I rushed out the door. Before she could even speak, she saw Julian walk past her, straight out the door, chasing after me.

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1 After being bound to the “Manipulative Social Climber System,” I became a self-taught master of all eighteen arts of manipulation. Yet, my target was a connoisseur of cunning, a master at spotting manipulative acts. All ninety-nine of my attempts failed. At the Caldwell family gala, Arthur Caldwell, the prince of New York society, once again precisely saw through my scheme. He knocked the drugged wine glass from my hand, his voice sharp: “I’ve seen plenty of calculating women like you. Take my advice, don’t waste your energy. Anything you’ve touched, I find disgusting just to look at.” Yet, he was easily swayed by a holier-than-thou act, completely losing his head over a seemingly pure woman. I smiled, furious, and promptly changed my targets. Later, when the entire Caldwell family was fiercely vying for my attention, Arthur was the only one who pointed at me, screaming in frustration: “Can’t you all see she’s just a manipulative fraud?!” The entire Caldwell family stood in front of me, saying in unison: “She’s no manipulative fraud, she’s our little darling.” … The system instantly blared a sharp warning: 【How dare you change your targets without permission? And you picked a whole bunch at once!】 【Arthur Caldwell’s father, his mother, his sister.】 【Oh my god, how about the Caldwell family’s ninety-year-old Grand Matriarch?!】 I spoke with righteous indignation: “If I can’t complete the mission to climb the social ladder in an elite family, I’ll die on the spot anyway.” “This is my last chance, so of course, I have to cast a wider net.” The thought made my teeth ache. I had initially believed that with my perfected manipulative skills, securing Arthur Caldwell would be a piece of cake. Unexpectedly, I failed ninety-nine times. The man was impervious to my charm. Feigning accidental encounters, playing the victim, orchestrating life-saving moments, “accidentally” ending up in his room… Every trick turned into a joke in front of him. He could instantly tell I was a top-tier manipulator. I once thought he was the legendary ultimate challenge in seduction. Until I saw another woman, with far cruder tactics, look down her nose at him and declare, “Get lost. Don’t think being rich makes you special.” Arthur’s eyes, usually like still water, instantly lit up with astonishing brilliance. “Woman, you have successfully captured my attention.” At that moment, it hit me like a revelation. It wasn’t that my methods weren’t sophisticated enough. It was that this socialite prince had never experienced anything truly refined. I patiently explained to the system: “There’s more than one path to securing a place in high society.” “If I can’t be Arthur Caldwell’s wife, I can be his stepmother, his sister, or a close confidante to his great-grandmother.” Just then, distracted, I accidentally bumped into someone around a corner. “Ouch.” I stumbled backward, nearly falling to the ground. However, a distinctly familiar sneer reached my ears: “Scarlett Davies, are you faking a fall again?” I looked up. Arthur Caldwell stood before me, beside him Audrey Windsor, her face aloof, as if untouched by worldly concerns. Arthur tilted his head, his voice laced with disdain, “Save your energy. Don’t try any tricks to seduce me.” Seeing it was the prince and his pure-hearted darling, my face instantly fell, and I simply wanted to turn and leave. But Arthur grabbed me. “You bumped into someone and didn’t even apologize? Still planning to leave?” I rolled my eyes. Who bumped into whom? Just as I was about to retort, the system’s voice chimed: 【Host, attention, first target has appeared.】 I instinctively looked behind me. A young woman was walking down the stairs. She bore a seven-tenths resemblance to Arthur, but her demeanor was more composed and refined. It was Vivian Caldwell, the eldest daughter of the Caldwell family. In a flash, my mind raced. Suddenly, following the direction of Arthur’s pull, I leaned gently towards him, feigning weakness. “Alright, I apologize, Mr. Caldwell. Please don’t be angry.” Arthur was momentarily stunned by my sudden move. Then, as if he’d touched something disgusting, he abruptly shoved me away. “Scarlett Davies, get away from me!” That push was exactly what I was waiting for. I spun around and fell to the floor. My eyes instantly welled up, and my voice, thick with feigned sweetness, filled the room: “Mr. Caldwell, I’m so sorry. I was too clumsy. It’s all my fault. Please don’t hit me.” Arthur’s face flushed with anger. “What? Who’s hitting you? Get up!” He bent down, intending to forcibly pull me up, but just as he touched my arm— “Arthur Caldwell, stop right there!” An angry female voice rang out. 2 Seeing the newcomer, Arthur instantly reined in his fiery temper. “Vivian, what are you doing here?” Vivian Caldwell, heels clicking, approached. “If I hadn’t come, how would I have known you’re so domineering out here?” “I wasn’t!” Arthur immediately retorted. “She’s staging it all herself!” Before he could finish, I had already flung myself into Vivian’s arms, sobbing softly. “Sister, it’s true, I just tripped and fell. It’s not Mr. Caldwell’s fault. He… he didn’t bully me.” Vivian looked down at me. My eyes and nose were red, tears glistening but not yet falling, and though clearly scared, I was still defending Arthur. A soft spot in her heart gently melted. 【Target Vivian Caldwell affinity score: 30.】 “Don’t be afraid.” Vivian patted my hand, then turned to Arthur and said coldly, “Apologize.” Arthur was absolutely furious. He reached out to grab me. “You manipulative fraud, get out of my sister’s arms!” “You dare bully someone right in front of me?” Vivian shielded me, her face hardening. I quickly stepped between them. “Sister, please don’t argue with Mr. Caldwell because of me. It’s okay if I suffer a little.” 【Target affinity score: 40.】 Vivian’s gaze lingered on my face. The more she looked, the more she found this girl well-behaved and sensible, utterly unlike her rogue younger brother. Just then, Audrey Windsor, who had been ignored, finally spoke, carrying an air of holier-than-thou arrogance. “Ms. Caldwell, you’ve come in and immediately taken sides, jumping to conclusions without understanding the full situation.” “No wonder Arthur always says he doesn’t like you as a sister.” Vivian’s brow furrowed abruptly. Seeing that she seemed about to press further, I quickly interjected: “That’s not true! Sister is clearly so kind, how can you try to drive a wedge between her and Mr. Caldwell?” Vivian’s heart suddenly warmed. She looked back at Audrey, her gaze now scrutinizing. “Who are you? Our Caldwell family matters are none of your business to dictate.” Arthur quickly stepped forward. “Vivian, Audrey is my girlfriend. While she might speak her mind, she’s very innocent, unlike some gold-diggers full of schemes.” He pointedly glanced at me. “Don’t let her trick you.” Vivian scoffed. Her gaze critically swept over Audrey. Dressed in the season’s latest limited edition, carrying a bag that could equal an average person’s annual salary – all likely gifts from her foolish brother. And she had the nerve to call someone else a gold-digger? “This girlfriend you’ve brought back,” Vivian said, her voice laced with sarcasm, “doesn’t seem like a simple character either.” Audrey’s face instantly went ashen, as if she had suffered a profound humiliation. “I knew it! You rich people all look down on me!” With that, she turned and ran. “Audrey!” Arthur anxiously chased after her, casting a furious glare at Vivian before he left. “Vivian, this is all your doing!” Vivian watched her brother’s unhesitating retreat, a flicker of melancholy in her eyes. “This brother of mine, he’s really becoming less and less close to me.” I stood quietly beside her. I’d long heard that Vivian Caldwell possessed exceptional abilities, and there was an intention to groom her as the family’s successor. My voice was soft. “Mr. Caldwell is still young and foolish. He doesn’t see how much effort Sister has poured into this family, and into him.” “The fact that Sister is still willing to guide and teach him now already makes her the best sister in the world.” I lifted my face, revealing undisguised admiration. “If I had such a wonderful sister, I’d wake up smiling every day. I’d constantly be by Sister’s side. If Sister told me to go east, I’d never even glance west.” Vivian paused, then laughed aloud, much of her earlier irritation dissipating. Her gaze towards me visibly softened. “You can stay with me at the gala today. It’ll save you from being bullied by that rascal again.” I nodded obediently, following close by Vivian’s side, my affinity score rising to 70. Just as I was about to press my advantage, the system alert chimed urgently again. 【Attention, target two and target three have appeared.】 I immediately looked up. Vivian by my side had already quickened her pace, respectfully greeting the distinguished middle-aged couple ahead. “Dad, Mom, you’re here.” 3 On the left, a man of commanding presence. On the right, a graceful, elegant woman. These were Arthur Caldwell’s parents. Mrs. Caldwell’s gaze immediately fell on me. “And who is this?” Vivian was momentarily speechless, unsure how to introduce this poor girl who had been bullied by her brother. I immediately stepped half a pace forward, my voice sweet and gentle. “Hello, Uncle and Auntie. My name is Scarlett Davies, and I’m Vivian’s friend.” I made no mention of the earlier conflict with Arthur. Vivian gave me a grateful look. “Vivian rarely brings friends home,” Mrs. Caldwell’s smile grew even warmer. “I can tell you must be a good child.” Mrs. Caldwell’s initial affinity score was already 20. As she spoke, she actually took off a beautifully translucent mutton-fat jade bangle from her wrist, took my hand, and gently slipped it on. “It’s our first meeting, and Auntie didn’t prepare anything. This bangle looks lovely on your skin. Consider it a gift.” I stared blankly at the bangle, then looked up at Mrs. Caldwell, my eyes instantly reddening. Large tears, without warning, rolled down my cheeks. “Oh, why are you crying?” Mrs. Caldwell jumped, her tone a little flustered. “Don’t you like the bangle?” “No, it’s not that.” I shook my head. “The bangle is very beautiful, I love it. It just made me think of my mother.” “After my mother disappeared, no one had ever been so kind to me.” I lifted my tear-filled eyes to Mrs. Caldwell. “Auntie, thank you.” 【Mrs. Caldwell affinity score: 35】 【Vivian Caldwell affinity score: 80】 【Mr. Caldwell affinity score: 30】 Hearing my pitiful story, Mrs. Caldwell and Vivian’s affinity scores increasing was expected. Mr. Caldwell’s sudden affection, however, made me slightly pause. The system provided a timely explanation: 【Mr. Caldwell is henpecked. He saw Mrs. Caldwell’s clear liking for you, and thus developed a favorable impression of the host.】 There’s such a good thing? My heart soared with delight, and I became even more diligent in pleasing Mrs. Caldwell. Therefore, when Arthur finally appeased Audrey and brought her back, what they saw was this scene: Mrs. Caldwell, her face full of pleasure: “Scarlett, I didn’t know you had such skill?” I, while massaging her arm, shyly replied: “I specifically sought out an experienced Traditional Chinese Medicine doctor to learn. I originally wanted to learn to massage my mother, but before I could use it, she…” My voice trailed off sadly. Mrs. Caldwell immediately squeezed my hand, her eyes full of sympathy. “My dear child, you’ve truly suffered.” “Fortunately, you’ve met Auntie now. You’re so kind to me, just like my mother.” “Scarlett Davies!” Arthur roared. “Oh, so you’re trying to deceive my parents now too?!” I immediately stood up, looking frantic and helpless. “Mr. Caldwell, please don’t be angry. Auntie and I are not what you think.” Arthur’s chest heaved with rage. “I heard everything! How disgusting! Not only are you trying to seduce my sister, but now you’re saying my mother is like your mother? Do you even deserve that?!” “Arthur!” Mrs. Caldwell’s face darkened, and she sharply rebuked him. “How dare you speak like that? You have no manners at all!” Vivian immediately shielded me. “Don’t you dare insult my friend!” “Friend? Vivian Caldwell, have you lost your mind?!” Arthur, furious, laughed, then pointed abruptly at me. “Do you know what kind of person she is? She’s a manipulative gold-digger who’ll stop at nothing to climb the social ladder! She even drugged me once!” “Arthur Caldwell!” Vivian’s voice suddenly rose. “What nonsense are you spouting?!” “I’m not spouting nonsense.” Arthur stood his ground. “On the contrary, you, knowing nothing, brought this kind of person in front of Mom and Dad!” Seeing the siblings at daggers drawn, the atmosphere was taut to the extreme. Audrey Windsor, who had been standing silently behind Arthur, seemingly detached from it all, finally opened her crimson lips. “Scarlett Davies, you’re causing chaos in other people’s homes, yet you hide away. At this point, shouldn’t you come out and explain yourself?” 4 I looked at Audrey’s malicious eyes and inwardly cursed, you sanctimonious fraud. However, my past history of pestering Arthur was undeniable. Even if I denied it today, if the Caldwell family found out later, my affinity scores would plummet. Arthur pointed at me. “Scarlett Davies, you tell them yourself, what I just said, do you admit it or not!” Vivian shielded me. “Scarlett, don’t be afraid. If he’s slandering you, Sister will protect you.” I looked at Vivian, then swept my gaze across the Caldwell parents, whose expressions had subtly darkened. Taking a deep breath, I said, “Mr. Caldwell is right. I did pester him for a long time.” Vivian instinctively released her grip. Disappointment flickered across the Caldwell family’s faces. Arthur finally looked triumphant. “Hear that? She admitted it! This ill-intentioned person, hurry up and kick her out!” “But!” I sharply cut him off, my voice even more choked with sobs, yet I forced myself to stand tall. “I grew up without anyone to care for me. Mr. Caldwell was the first person to ever be kind to me, and I wanted so desperately to hold onto that kindness.” I covered my face, my shoulders trembling slightly. “I had already made up my mind, planning to quietly leave and put an end to my past mistakes.” “But then I met Vivian, who protected me. I met Auntie, who loved me like a daughter. I met Uncle…” “I was too greedy. Greedy for this warmth, which is why I didn’t dare to reveal the truth.” I took a step back. “I’m sorry, I was too despicable. I’ll leave now.” I turned to walk away, but inwardly, I was counting down. Three, two, one. “Wait,” Almost as soon as I counted to one, Vivian’s voice rang out. She pulled me tightly into her embrace. “I’m sorry, Scarlett. Sister didn’t know you were carrying so much pain. It’s my fault.” She turned to her parents, her tone firm. “Dad, Mom, Scarlett is just too starved for love; she took a wrong path.” Arthur was practically insane with rage. “Vivian Caldwell, are you blind?! Can’t you see she’s acting?!” Mrs. Caldwell also spoke now. “Scarlett is a guest of our Caldwell family.” She looked at me. “Scarlett, don’t listen to him. Stay with us.” Mr. Caldwell naturally followed his wife’s lead. “Ms. Davies, it’s good to admit mistakes and correct them. I believe Arthur will forgive you too.” Seeing the situation reverse, Audrey stepped forward, her voice rising. “With all due respect, doing something wrong is doing something wrong. There’s no excuse for forgiveness.” “A woman so morally bankrupt, even attempting to reform, is still rotten to the core! Their very being is tainted!” The words were extremely harsh and grating. Mrs. Caldwell’s face completely darkened. “Can you guarantee that you will never make a mistake in your entire life?” Audrey raised her chin, like an aloof, pure white snow lotus unafraid of authority. “Of course! My actions are always open and above board. I despise your elite family’s twisted games the most.” “And I utterly despise those who scheme and manipulate to climb the social ladder!” Arthur’s eyes were shining brightly. “Mom and Dad, Audrey is right. This is the woman I love. She’s different from other women. Look how real and pure she is!” The entire Caldwell family’s faces turned grim. They looked at Arthur as if he were the foolish son of a rich landlord. Mrs. Caldwell finally lost patience. “Butler, show them out.” “Mom!” Arthur panicked. “Audrey is my guest!” I spoke softly at the opportune moment. “Oh, I wonder if Sister Audrey knew she was coming to a family gala today?” “Why is she wearing all white? It looks so solemn, like she’s attending a funeral.” Everyone’s gazes instantly focused on Audrey. She was indeed wearing a pure white dress. The Caldwell parents’ faces grew even darker. Audrey’s face flushed then paled. She bit her lower lip tightly. “You Caldwells just look down on people! I refuse to stay in this place!” With that, she turned and ran. “Audrey!” Arthur chased after her without hesitation. After this turn of events, the Caldwell family’s affinity scores for me had changed again. 【Mrs. Caldwell affinity score: 75】 【Vivian Caldwell affinity score: 90】 【Mr. Caldwell affinity score: 60】 I was formally invited to stay for the Caldwell family gala. Vivian told me that the Caldwell Grand Matriarch would also be attending today. My heart stirred; she was one of my targets. Suddenly, a commotion erupted in the hall. Several black-suited bodyguards secured the banquet hall’s exits. The guests exchanged puzzled glances. Vivian’s face changed drastically, and she stood up. “What’s going on?” Just then, Arthur Caldwell and Audrey Windsor reappeared. Arthur’s gaze swept across the room, finally landing on me, a cold smirk on his lips. He raised his voice. “I apologize for interrupting your enjoyment. Just now, the Phoenix and Dragon jade pendant, most cherished by our Caldwell Grand Matriarch, was stolen. The thief is very likely among us.” A gasp rippled through the crowd. I had a bad feeling. I instinctively looked down. Sure enough, a jade pendant was hidden beneath my chair. Before I could react, Arthur, sharp-eyed, rushed over. The moment he saw the jade pendant, his face filled with triumph. “Caught red-handed! Guards, seize this thief!”

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My husband, Chuck Helberg, died quietly in his study, a heartfelt suicide note beside him. The letter began with “My dearest Audrey.” My name is Scarlett Davies. 1 At seven in the morning, the alarm didn’t ring. I opened my eyes, a strange sense of unease settling over me. The space beside me was empty. On Chuck’s side, the duvet was neatly folded, the pillow squared precisely. This wasn’t right; he never got up early enough to make the bed. “Chuck?” No reply. I sat up. The bedroom was terribly silent. Curtains drawn, letting in only a thin slice of light. Thirty years in this old house, every crack and crevice was familiar, but today, that familiarity held a strange chill. I got out of bed and pushed open the bedroom door. The living room was also empty. The kitchen was deserted, the bathroom door ajar, the light off inside. “Chuck Helberg?” My voice echoed through the living room, unanswered. A wave of panic rose within me. Not fear, but that pure intuition – something was wrong, terribly wrong. Then I saw the study door. It was slightly ajar, leaving a narrow gap. Our study, Chuck called it his “sanctuary.” I rarely went in; it was his space. He said he needed to write, to think, to be alone. For thirty-three years of marriage, I respected this habit. Everyone needs their own space, don’t they? I walked to the door, my hand on the doorknob. My heart lurched. I smelled it. Faint, but definitely there. The unmistakable scent of gas. “Chuck!” I pushed the door open violently. He sat in his desk chair, back to the door, head tilted slightly to one side. A natural posture, as if he were asleep. But on the desk, a small gas burner lay, its tube disconnected, the valve open. The windows were tightly shut. My legs gave way, and I clutched the doorframe. “Chuck… Chuck Helberg!” He didn’t move. I shuffled closer, my feet heavy as lead. Rounding the desk, I saw his face. Calm, too calm. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly purple, but his expression was relaxed, even hinting at… relief? My trembling hand reached for his breath. Nothing. His neck, cold. His wrist, cold. I collapsed to the floor, my head buzzing. Dead. Chuck Helberg was dead. He had taken his own life. In our study, with gas. While I slept in the next room, he came here, closed the door, and opened the valve. Why? I looked at him, this man with whom I had spent the greater part of my life. Sixty-two years old, his hair mostly gray but neatly combed. Today, he wore the gray sweater I had bought him last year, dark trousers. Dressed as if to meet a guest, not to commit suicide. Then I saw something tucked in his arms. A letter, in a plain white envelope, unsealed, a corner of the paper peeking out. I pulled it out, my hands shaking uncontrollably. The letter unfolded, revealing his familiar handwriting. Chuck’s penmanship had always been beautiful, strong and vigorous, upright like the man himself. But today, the words felt sharp, cutting. 【My dearest Audrey】 My name is Scarlett Davies. Who is Audrey? I read on, word by word, each like an ice pick stabbing my heart. 【My dearest Audrey, I have kept a lifelong promise, ensuring our child walks proudly in the world.】 【Now, our son is successful in his career, and our grandson is on the way. I have no more worries.】 【Life and death separate us, true love remains out of reach. I can finally escape this unhappy marriage.】 Signed: Chuck Helberg. Date: Yesterday. I stared at those lines, reading them again and again. I knew every word, but put together, I didn’t understand. My dearest Audrey—not me. True love—not me. The unhappy marriage that plagued him—mine. Thirty-three years. Thirty-three years of marriage. Our son, Nathan, was thirty-two. Last month, he called to say his wife was pregnant. Chuck had held the phone, his hand trembling, his voice choked. “Good, good, I’m going to be a grandfather.” I thought he was happy. Now, looking at this letter, I understood. It was a mission accomplished. Keeping a lifelong promise, ensuring our child walks proudly in the world. Our child. Our son, Nathan, was his and Audrey’s child? Then what about me? Scarlett Davies, in these thirty-three years of marriage, what was I? I looked up at Chuck. He sat there, peaceful, calm, even somewhat dignified. Dead, but he had died where he belonged. The letter made it clear: no more worries, finally free. I climbed to my feet, my legs still trembling. I went to the phone and dialed our son’s number. It rang three times, then connected. “Mom? So early, is something wrong?” Nathan’s voice was thick with sleep. He was in New York City, two thousand miles away. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. “Mom?” “Your father…” I heard my own voice, dry and raspy, “Your father is dead.” Silence on the other end. A long, deathly silence. “Mom, what did you say?” “Your father,” I said, enunciating each word, “is dead. He killed himself. In the study.” Another silence. Then I heard a hurried breath. “I’m coming back immediately. Now, right now. Mom, did you call the police? The ambulance?” “Yes.” I hadn’t, but I knew I should. “Just come home quickly.” After hanging up, I truly called 911. Then I sat on the living room sofa, waiting. The letter was still clutched in my hand, the paper crumpled. The police arrived, then the paramedics. Photos, questions, examination. I moved like a puppet, answering whatever was asked. Finally, Chuck’s body was carried away. A police officer approached, a middle-aged man with a gentle expression. “My condolences. The suicide note… could we see it?” I handed him the letter. He read it, frowned, glanced at me, then at the letter, then back at me. “This…” “It’s not me,” I said. “Audrey isn’t me. My name is Scarlett Davies.” The officer nodded, saying no more. Perhaps he had seen stranger things. In the face of death, no absurdity was truly absurd. They left, and the house was empty again. I sat on the sofa, looking at the open study door. That door, Chuck had closed it last night, ending his life inside. And I, in the next room, had slept through the entire night. Blissfully unaware. 2 Our son arrived that evening. His flight was delayed; it was already eleven when he walked in. His face was tired, his eyes red. “Mom.” He hugged me, very tightly. It was then I realized I was trembling too. “What happened? How could Dad…” He released me, looking towards the study. “What did the police say?” “Suicide. Very clear. There’s a note.” I walked to the coffee table and picked up the letter. “See for yourself.” Nathan took the letter and opened it. I watched his face, trying to discern something there. Surprise? Confusion? Or… something else? He read slowly, his lips pressed tightly together. Then he looked up, his eyes full of bewilderment. “Who is Audrey?” “I’d like to know too,” I said. We looked at each other, mother and son for thirty years, suddenly like strangers. What was he thinking? What was I thinking? Neither of us knew. “Mom,” his voice was raspy, “this letter… is Dad…” “Confused?” I finished for him. “Delirious? Made a mistake?” He nodded, then shook his head. “But this handwriting, it’s Dad’s. I recognize it.” Yes, we both recognized it. The strokes, the strength, it was Chuck Helberg. He had written our names for over thirty years, on every birthday card, every holiday greeting. There was no mistaking it. “Did your father have any siblings?” I asked. “Cousins, anyone named Audrey?” “Dad was an only child, you know that.” I knew. Chuck’s parents died young; he had no close relatives. When we married, he was alone. He didn’t have many friends, just a few old colleagues he occasionally met. He never mentioned an Audrey. “Mom,” Nathan sat down, wiping his face, “Has Dad been… acting strangely lately?” I thought back. Last week, he went to his hometown, he said to visit his parents’ graves. He was gone for three days, and seemed perfectly normal upon his return. The day before yesterday, we went to the mall together to look at cribs for our unborn grandson. He was quite happy, chatting with the sales clerk for a long time. Yesterday, he woke early and made breakfast. Fried eggs, porridge, side dishes. Just like always. After eating, he said he was going to the study to write something. I said fine, then I went to the supermarket for groceries. When I came back, he was in the study, the door closed. I didn’t disturb him. In the evening, I made dinner and called him. He came out, ate, watched TV, then at around nine he said he was tired and went to bed. I said fine, I’d watch this episode. Everything was normal. “No,” I said. “Everything was normal.” “Then this letter…” Nathan looked at the lines again. “Ensuring our child walks proudly in the world – is this referring to me?” “Who else?” I looked at his face, a face that resembled mine by sixty percent. “You are my son. I carried you for ten months.” “But he said ‘our child,’” Nathan pointed at the letter, “his and this Audrey’s…” “You are not.” I cut him off, my voice a little sharp. “Nathan, you are my son. I gave birth to you. At City General Hospital, in the maternity ward, delivered by Dr. Lewis. Your father waited outside the delivery room all night. You weighed seven pounds eight ounces when you were born, and you cried very loudly. I remember all of this, clearly.” Nathan fell silent. He looked down at the letter for a long time. “Mom,” he looked up, tears in his eyes, “Then why did Dad write this?” I didn’t know. That night, neither of us slept. Nathan was in his old room, I was in the master bedroom. Chuck’s things were still there; his pajamas draped over the chair, his reading glasses and a half-read book on the nightstand. I picked up the book; it was One Hundred Years of Solitude. He had been reading it lately, saying he was old enough now to finally understand it. I opened it, and a bookmark fell out. It was one Nathan had made in elementary school, a piece of cardboard with a wobbly drawing of a family of three. On the back, in Chuck’s handwriting: My son Nathan, aged eight. My son. My heart constricted. The next day, funeral arrangements had to be made. Nathan went to take care of it, and I stayed home to tidy up. The police said the study was temporarily off-limits, pending procedures. So I tidied other areas. Chuck didn’t have many belongings. He was frugal; he had only a few clothes, but many books. I started with the wardrobe, taking out clothes one by one, folding them. In the bottom drawer, I felt a hard cover. I pulled it out; it was an old photo album. A plastic cover, its edges worn white. I opened it. The first page held our wedding photo. Chuck and I, taken in 1988. I wore a red dress, he a white shirt. Both of us young, smiling shyly. Below the photo, handwritten: Scarlett and Chuck, New Wedding Memento. I turned the pages. Nathan’s hundred-day celebration, his first birthday, starting kindergarten, elementary school graduation. Always the three of us. A standard family album. I flipped to the last few pages, which were empty. But on one page, something was tucked inside. I pulled it out: a small, black-and-white photo, its edges yellowed. It showed a young woman with two long braids, wearing a floral blouse, smiling sweetly. On the back, faded but still legible: Audrey, Spring 1975. 1975. That was before I met Chuck. Where was he then? In his hometown, or had he already moved to the city? He never mentioned it. I stared at the photo. Audrey. A very delicate-looking girl, with large eyes and dimples when she smiled. She looked to be in her early twenties, perhaps even younger. Who was she? I turned the photo over and over, finding no other information beyond that line of text. The photo itself was ordinary, like one taken at a photo studio, with a fake scenic backdrop. “Mom.” I gasped, almost dropping the photo. Nathan stood at the doorway, looking at what was in my hand. “What’s that?” I handed it to him. He took it, looked at the front, then flipped it over. “Audrey?” He looked up at me. “Is this…” “Found it in your father’s album,” I said. “Tucked in the back.” Nathan sat down, examining it closely. “1975… Dad would have been twenty-three that year. Working as a teacher in his hometown.” “How do you know?” “Dad mentioned it once,” Nathan said. “He went back to his village after high school, taught at the elementary school for two years, then passed the college entrance exam and left.” I hadn’t known any of this. Chuck rarely spoke of his past. When asked, he’d simply say, “Nothing worth telling, it’s all in the past.” “This Audrey,” Nathan pointed at the photo, “could she have been Dad’s…” “Sweetheart,” I finished. The room fell silent. Sweetheart. First love. Or, more than just first love. “But even if he had one,” Nathan said, “what does it have to do with this letter? ‘My dearest Audrey’ – Dad wouldn’t address just anyone like that. And he said ‘our child’…” He looked at the photo, then at me, his eyes complex. “Mom,” his voice was very soft, “Should I… get a DNA test?” I felt like I’d been slapped; my face burned. “What did you say?” “It’s not that I don’t believe you,” he said quickly. “But this letter… this photo… Dad must have had a reason for writing those words. If he thought I was his and this Audrey’s child, then maybe…” “You are not.” I stood up, my voice trembling. “Nathan, you are my son. I gave birth to you. You want a test? Fine, do it. But now, your father’s body is barely cold, and you want to do this?” He fell silent, lowering his head. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he murmured. “I’m confused. I just… want to understand.” We both wanted to understand. But how? Ask Chuck? He was dead, unable to answer. “Let’s take care of the funeral first,” I said. “Other matters, later.” Nathan nodded, returning the photo to me. I clutched the small paper, feeling as if it were burning hot. 3 The funeral was set for three days later. Simple, with few attendees. A few of Chuck’s old colleagues came, a few neighbors. At the ceremony, I stood at the very front, looking at his portrait. The photo was taken last year, in the park, he was wearing that gray sweater, smiling gently. The officiant read the eulogy, describing Chuck Helberg as a diligent and upright man, a good husband, a good father. Listening, I felt like laughing. A good husband? His suicide note said he was unhappy in this marriage. A good father? Before his death, he was thinking of another woman’s child. I clenched my hands, my nails digging into my palms. After it ended, one of Nathan’s distant aunts came over and took my hand. “Scarlett, my condolences. Chuck’s passing was so sudden; you must take care of yourself.” I nodded, unable to speak. “By the way,” the aunt lowered her voice, “did Chuck leave any instructions before he passed? He has an old house in his hometown, you know that, right?” I paused. An old house? Chuck’s hometown did have a house, but it had been neglected after his parents died. He said it wasn’t worth anything and didn’t bother with it. “Why bring that up suddenly?” “I just heard,” the aunt’s eyes darted around, “a while ago, someone apparently went to see that house. They said Chuck sent them. I thought you knew.” I didn’t know. Chuck hadn’t told me. “Who went?” “That, I’m not sure about.” The aunt patted my hand. “I’m just worrying needlessly. Don’t overthink it, just take care of yourself first.” She left, and I stood there. The old house? Chuck sent someone to see the old house? “Mom,” Nathan came over, “It’s time to go home.” On the way back, I kept thinking. The old house, Audrey, 1975. What could these fragments piece together? Once home, I told Nathan: “I want to go to your father’s hometown.” “Now? But the funeral just…” “Now,” I said. “I’ll take the high-speed train, round trip in one day. Are you coming?” Nathan looked at me, then nodded. “Yes. I’ll drive.” 4 Chuck Helberg’s hometown was in a neighboring state, a three-hour drive away. It was a small town; it had developed a bit over the years, but the old part of town remained much the same. Nathan, relying on his memory, found the old street. The old house was at the end of the street, a small, single-story home with its own yard. The door was locked, the lock rusted solid. A neighbor, hearing the commotion, opened her door. It was an old woman, who squinted at us for a long time. “Who are you looking for?” “Auntie,” I said, “This is Chuck Helberg’s house; I’m his wife. We’ve come back to take a look.” The old woman uttered an “Oh,” scrutinizing me. “Chuck’s family? He hasn’t been back in years. A while ago, someone did come, said Chuck sent him, and went in with a key.” “What kind of person?” “A man, in his forties, I suppose, wearing glasses, very scholarly.” The old woman thought for a moment. “Said he was Chuck’s friend, came to see if the house needed repairs.” “He went inside?” “Yes, he stayed for about an hour. He even asked me a few questions, like who used to live here, and if anyone had ever inquired about the house.” “What did you tell him?” “What could I tell him? Chuck’s parents passed away so many years ago; the house has been empty. Though, before…” The old woman paused. “Before, there was a woman who came, many years ago, asking about Chuck. I told her Chuck had moved to the city and was married, and she left.” My heart quickened a beat. “What kind of woman?” “That must have been thirty years ago,” the old woman recalled. “Very delicate-looking, dressed simply, spoke softly. Said she was Chuck’s old classmate, just passing by, thought she’d check in.” “What was her name?” “She didn’t say. I asked, she didn’t say, just left.” The old woman looked at me, then at Nathan. “Are you Chuck’s family? How is he? Haven’t seen him in ages.” “He…” My throat tightened. “He passed away. A few days ago.” The old woman gasped, repeatedly saying “What a pity.” She added, “Chuck was a good boy, just had a hard life. If it hadn’t been for his family’s troubles back then, he and his sweetheart…” “Sweetheart?” Nathan pressed. “Auntie, are you saying my father used to have a sweetheart?” The old woman, realizing her slip, waved her hand. “Oh, that’s ancient history, why bring it up? He’s gone now.” “Auntie,” I stepped forward, taking her hand. “Please tell me, this is very important to me. Chuck left a letter mentioning someone named Audrey. Was it her?” The old woman looked at me, her gaze complex. After a moment, she sighed. “Audrey… Yes, that was the girl. Audrey Sterling. She and Chuck grew up together, and they were very fond of each other. Later, Chuck’s family fell on hard times. His father passed away, his mother was ill, and the family was deep in debt. Audrey’s family thought Chuck was too poor and wouldn’t agree to the marriage. They forced Audrey to marry someone from out of town. I heard she didn’t have a good life; her husband abused her, and within a few years…” “Within a few years, what?” “She was gone,” the old woman whispered. “They said she died of illness, but some said she was heartbroken and took something. Chuck was already at university by then. When he found out, he came back and sat by Audrey’s grave all day. After that, he never mentioned her again.” I released her hand, my body growing cold. Audrey Sterling. Dead. She had died many years ago. “Then did she…” I heard my voice tremble. “Did she have a child?” “A child?” The old woman thought for a moment. “I think I heard she had one, but it was given away not long after it was born. The family Audrey married into didn’t acknowledge it, saying she had been unfaithful, and the child wasn’t theirs. What a tragedy.” Given away. A child. I looked at Nathan. His face was ashen. “Auntie,” his voice was dry, “That child… boy or girl? When was it born?” “That, I’m not sure about. It’s all hearsay, a mix of truth and rumor, who knows.” The old woman sighed. “They were all tragic figures. Chuck later married you, and we all rejoiced when we heard you had a good life. He finally found some happiness.” Happiness? I managed a twisted smile, but no real smile came. “Auntie,” I said, “Can we go inside and look around?” The old woman went back inside for a hammer, then helped us smash open the rusted lock. The door opened, releasing a musty odor. The house was dim inside, furniture covered with cloths, a thick layer of dust on the floor. Nathan and I walked in, using our phone flashlights. It was a small house, one living room, one bedroom, the kitchen in a corner. Chuck had grown up here until he was eighteen, then left for university, met me, married, had a child, and lived for thirty-three years. Until three days ago, when he died. I walked slowly through the living room, looking at the dust-covered objects. Old tables, old chairs, faded remnants of New Year prints on the wall. In the bedroom, a wooden bed, an old-fashioned wardrobe. I pulled open the wardrobe door. It was empty, save for a few old clothes hanging inside. I reached in, and in the deepest part of the closet, I felt a small wooden box. I pulled it out and opened it. Inside were some odds and ends: a few vintage pins, an old fountain pen, some old paper bills. And a letter, its envelope yellowed. I pulled it out, my hand trembling fiercely. It was Chuck Helberg’s handwriting, but younger, less developed. The date was June 1975. 【Audrey: Greetings. I received your letter. Knowing you are well, I am relieved. You said your parents have brought up that marriage again. Don’t worry, when I return for summer break, I will talk to them. Though I, Chuck Helberg, am poor now, I am working hard. I will soon take the college entrance exam, get into university, secure a job, and then I can support you. Audrey, believe in me. In this life, I want only you. If you marry another, I will remain unmarried my entire life. Wait for me.】 The letter was short, ending abruptly. No signature, but I knew it was him. June 1975, before he even took the college entrance exam, Audrey’s family was already pressuring her to marry. I folded the letter and put it back. There was also a photo in the box, a picture of Chuck and Audrey together. They stood by a river, both young, smiling brightly. Chuck had his arm around Audrey’s shoulder; she leaned against him, holding a bouquet of wildflowers. On the back of the photo, it read: With Audrey, Summer 1974. A year later, Audrey married. Another year, she died. I handed the photo to Nathan. He looked at it, silent for a long time. “So,” his voice was very soft, “this Audrey was Dad’s first love. She died. Left a child, who was given away. Dad thought that child was me.” “Or,” I looked at the young Chuck in the photo, “he wished it was you.” “Why?” “Because you are his son,” I said. “But in his heart, he always held Audrey. So he treated you as Audrey’s child, so he could convince himself that his marriage, this lifetime, had meaning – that he raised his and Audrey’s child.” “But I was born to you!” Nathan’s voice rose. “Mom, I’m your son! How could he… how could he do this to you?” I didn’t answer. I walked to the window, pushed it open, and let the wind blow in. Dust danced in the light. “Your father,” I said, “lived a lifetime of heartache.” “But does that excuse how he treated you?” Nathan came to my side. “Mom, he spent thirty-three years with you, and in the end, he left a letter saying his true love was someone else, saying this marriage was unhappy. What did he see you as?” I shook my head. I didn’t know. I thought we were husband and wife, partners, family. But it turned out that in his heart, I was a shackles, an unhappiness, thirty years he had to endure. “I’m going to find that child,” Nathan suddenly said. “What?” “Audrey’s child. If they’re still alive, they should be around my age. I want to find him and ask for clarity. Maybe Dad had contact with him all these years; maybe Dad’s suicide note was meant for him.” “What if you find him?” “I don’t know.” Nathan wiped his face. “But I want to understand. Mom, don’t you?” I did. I wanted to know what I had truly lived through for thirty-three years. My presumed home, my presumed marriage, my presumed lifelong companionship—how much of it was real? “Find him,” I said. 5 It was dark by the time we returned to the city. Nathan dropped me off at home, saying he’d investigate and let me know if he found anything. I entered the house alone, turned on the lights, and looked at the empty rooms. Every piece of furniture here, I chose. The paintings on the walls, he and I selected together. The kitchen tiles, I insisted on that color. Thirty-three years, this home, everywhere bore my mark. Yet Chuck said he was unhappy. I walked into the study. The police had lifted the seal; everything was still in its place. On the desk, One Hundred Years of Solitude lay open. I walked over and looked at the page. It was about Colonel Aureliano Buendía returning home after years of war, finding everything changed beyond recognition. Chuck had underlined a sentence in pencil: “He thought of his dead wife, of the life he had never truly possessed.” I traced the line with my finger. The life he had never truly possessed. Was he thinking of Audrey? Thinking of the what-if – what if Audrey hadn’t died, what if he had been with her, what kind of life would that have been? The phone rang. It was Nathan. “Mom, I found something,” his voice was urgent. “I asked a friend to check the civil registry system. Around 1976, a boy was sent to the county orphanage, his mother named Audrey Sterling. Records show the child was adopted three months later by a pair of teachers named Henderson.” “What happened after that?” “That’s where it cut off. Archives weren’t complete back then, only that much. But my friend said he could dig deeper, see if the Henderson couple ever moved, or if the child’s name was changed.” “How long will that take?” “Hard to say, maybe a few days.” He paused. “Mom, I also asked Dad’s old colleagues. One, a Mr. Evans, said Dad indeed asked him for a favor a while ago.” “What favor?” “Dad asked him to help find someone named Ethan Henderson. Said he was an old friend, lost touch for years, wanted to reconnect.” Ethan Henderson. I hadn’t heard that name before. “Did Mr. Evans find him?” “Yes. Ethan Henderson is now in a neighboring city, runs a small bookstore. Dad got his address and phone number.” Nathan said, “Mom, do you think this Ethan Henderson could be the child Audrey’s family adopted?” I didn’t know. But it was too much of a coincidence. “Do you have the address?” “Yes. Mr. Evans gave it to me.” Nathan said, “I’m going over tomorrow. Mom, are you coming?” I thought about it. “Yes.” “Okay, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.” After hanging up, I sat in the study, looking at the chair Chuck used to sit in. He had sat right here, opened the gas, and written that letter. The letter said he had fulfilled his promise, ensuring “our child” walked proudly in the world. If Nathan wasn’t that child, then who was he talking about? If Nathan was, then who was I?

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When I returned to the office after maternity leave, the new HR manager, a woman named Vanessa, had given me the codename “Sweet Sixteen.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, my brow furrowed. She just chuckled, a patronizing sound that grated on my nerves. “Oh, it’s just the sixteenth woman who’s tried to climb into my husband’s bed, darling.” I froze, then felt a surge of indignation. “Are you out of your mind? I don’t even know your husband! What kind of malicious rumors are you spreading? If you want to play the doting wife, go home and do it, don’t poison the office with your nonsense!” Her eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t play coy! My husband is the CEO of this company. Calling you ‘Sweet Sixteen’ is me being generous!” I glanced at the CEO’s nameplate hanging on the wall. Hold on. In the time it took me to have a baby, my father had invested in my husband’s startup. Since when did the CEO change? … I immediately pulled out my phone, ready to call my husband. But Vanessa quickly stepped in front of me, her hand reaching out. “What do you think you’re doing? You delusional fangirl, are you seriously trying to make a move on him right in front of me?!” I frowned, trying to explain. “Are you crazy? I have a husband. Why would I be a ‘fangirl’ of yours? Let me make this clear: my husband’s name is Arthur Finch. He has his own company, and before I gave birth, the office was right here. I just came back after my maternity leave to help with the year-end bonuses and found the CEO’s nameplate changed to ‘Marcus Galecki.’ I need to call my husband and find out what’s going on. Do you understand?” The moment I finished speaking, Vanessa slapped me across the face. I was stunned. Instinctively, I tried to retaliate, but she clamped down hard on my wrist. “How dare you hit me!” I yelled, my voice trembling with rage. She simply sneered. “What kind of attitude is that when you’re talking to me?! Don’t bother making up some ridiculous story; you’re not fooling anyone! You show up on your first day wearing those fishnet stockings, and those… assets of yours are practically bursting out. It’s obvious you researched my husband’s preferences and came here to seduce him. I started suspecting you downstairs, and now you have the nerve to claim this is your husband’s company! You say it’s your husband’s company? See if anyone here even recognizes you!” Vanessa promptly called over all the employees. It was then that I noticed every single face in the office was unfamiliar! Could I really have come to the wrong company? But the company name and main business hadn’t changed, not even the lucky bamboo plant I’d bought, it was still in its original spot. And the company’s performance had been steadily climbing; there was no way it would have been sold off. I absolutely hadn’t come to the wrong place! I hadn’t been to the office in a full year, from pregnancy until now. And just six months ago, due to business expansion, a parent company had been established. Perhaps the older employees had all been transferred to the main office. The employees present all shook their heads, saying they didn’t know me, and noted that my information wasn’t in the latest onboarding list. Vanessa heard this and exploded. “So, you’re just some escort who researched my husband’s preferences beforehand! I’ve seen women like you online—you apply for a secretary position, but really you just want to be the boss’s bedmate! You thought you could come and seduce my husband, but you didn’t expect me to catch you, did you?!” Seeing the people around me start to whisper after Vanessa’s outburst, some even pulling out their phones to record, I knew I had to clear my name. If I didn’t, this baseless rumor would stick to me forever! “You have no proof! Spreading rumors is a crime!” I retorted quickly. Vanessa let out a cold laugh. “Proof?” She then swung her hand back and slapped me again, hard. My earring was violently tugged, tearing a gash in my earlobe. I shrieked in pain. She, however, looked utterly smug. “My intuition is proof! Confess now how you planned to seduce my husband, or I’ll beat your face to a pulp today!” I clutched my ear, tears streaming down my face from the agony. Forcing my trembling body to steady, I gritted out, “You can’t understand plain English, can you? Fine, I’ll call the police!” With that, in front of everyone, I dialed 911. The employees suddenly looked uneasy. Someone tugged at Vanessa’s sleeve. “Mrs. Galecki, what if we’ve really misunderstood her?” “Misunderstood what? I’ve caught thirty mistresses; I’d never mistake one of these sluts! I know better than anyone how attractive my husband is to women! Besides, why would an escort trying to be a mistress dare to call the police? Once her shady dealings are exposed, she’ll spend the rest of her life in jail!” Seeing Vanessa’s confident demeanor, the surrounding employees stopped trying to intervene. I clenched my jaw, and with my blood-stained hand, I completed the call to 911 in front of everyone. The police arrived quickly. They immediately noticed my injuries and asked what had happened. “She hit me!” I pointed at Vanessa. But before the officers could question her, she retorted, “This escort tried to seduce my husband to climb the corporate ladder, so I hit her! Isn’t it perfectly natural for a wife to confront a mistress?” The officer frowned. “Did you… become her husband’s mistress?” “No, I didn’t!” I took a deep breath and explained the situation to the police. “I have a husband and a child, and a harmonious family. Why would I try to seduce her husband? And she has absolutely no evidence; how can she spread such rumors about me?!” Vanessa scoffed. “You showing up at my husband’s company out of nowhere today is evidence! Otherwise, why would a stranger like you, dressed so provocatively, come looking for my husband?!” I was practically frantic. Looking at the police, I pleaded, “Don’t you see? She’s not listening to a word I’m saying! I told you, I came here to find my husband, Arthur Finch! She keeps insisting I want to seduce Marcus Galecki, but I don’t even know Marcus Galecki!” But the police just looked at me with confusion. “If you don’t know Marcus Galecki, then why are you here at this company? The owner of this company is indeed Marcus Galecki.” The officer showed me the retrieved company information, where the name of the proprietor, Marcus Galecki, was clearly written. I was dumbfounded. Seeing my surprise, the officer told me I must have come to the wrong address. Vanessa still wanted to argue, insisting I was a mistress, but she couldn’t produce any concrete evidence. The police warned her that if she continued to spread rumors, an investigation would be opened. She finally fell silent. Regarding my physical injuries, after an assessment, the police instructed Vanessa to pay me twenty thousand dollars in compensation, to be transferred to my account later. Since my mind was still preoccupied with the company matter, I quickly nodded when the police asked if I was satisfied with the outcome. After dealing with Vanessa, I walked out of the office building and immediately called my husband. “Arthur Finch, you better explain right now why the company owner changed! Did you secretly sell the company?!” “No, I didn’t,” Arthur replied, sounding confused. “Honey, the company’s performance has been improving. Why would I sell it?” “Then why has the owner become Marcus Galecki?!” I demanded sharply. Arthur finally understood and began to explain. “Honey, I forgot to tell you, Marcus Galecki has become a shareholder in the branch office. He’s the university senior I often told you about—capable but really unlucky. He was an orphan from childhood, and after graduation, he helped me shoulder the company’s pressures. I thought about giving him shares in the branch office. Didn’t I discuss this with your father, too? Don’t you remember?” I did know Arthur had a struggling senior from college whom he owed a great deal to, but I didn’t know his name, nor was I aware of the branch office transfer. Before I could answer, Arthur continued, “Even if you found the company had changed hands, you could have just called me, honey. Why are you so upset? Did something happen?” I recounted what had transpired at the office to my husband. He instantly became furious. “How did Vanessa even get to the office?! Honey, I’m so sorry about what you went through today. His wife is… peculiar. She constantly accuses clients of being mistresses, and she’s already ruined several deals for him. Marcus, being an orphan, has been incredibly patient with her, but he’s warned her. If it happens again, he’ll divorce her. Vanessa had quieted down for a while, I really didn’t expect her to go to the office. I’ll talk to Marcus about this. When I get home, I’ll apologize properly and make it up to you, okay?” My husband was upset and anxious, and I understood his difficult position. I didn’t press him further. For the year-end bonuses, I opted to communicate with Marcus online. As soon as we connected on Messenger, Marcus began apologizing profusely, promising to make amends. But I didn’t expect that shortly after Marcus apologized to me, Vanessa would start pounding on my front door. “Claire Bennett, you slut, get out here!” Knowing Vanessa wasn’t quite right in the head, I initially didn’t want to go out. But she kept banging on the door. My son had just turned one month old and couldn’t endure such loud noise. I messaged my husband, urging him to come home quickly and handle it. But before he could arrive, my son was already crying uncontrollably, terrified by the commotion outside. I had no choice but to try and make Vanessa stop. But to my horror, the moment I opened the door, bright red paint splashed all over me. I was drenched, and the pungent smell made me gag. Vanessa, however, laughed. “Oh, you’re throwing up, are you? Doesn’t this smell better than your slutty stench?” I raised my hand, intending to slap her. But Vanessa gripped my wrist tightly. She thrust her phone into my face. “Everyone, look! This is the slut who’s married with a child but still wants to seduce my husband! She’s probably so loose you could fit a fist in there, and she’s still looking for men! How can someone be so depraved?!” It was then I noticed. Vanessa’s phone was live-streaming, and the title read: “Making the slut who tried to seduce my husband pay!”

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The first time I met my boyfriend’s childhood friend, she grinned, grabbed my hand, and squealed, “Well, well, well, you lucky dog, how did you manage to snag such a gorgeous woman?” She then turned to me, “Hey, beautiful, let’s ditch these stinky boys.” I thought she was wonderful. But then, when I returned from the restroom and was about to push open the door, I overheard her, the childhood friend, making malicious comments. “Ugh, it’s disgusting. That cutesy voice, definitely a pick-me girl,” she scoffed. “And look, that bag she’s carrying isn’t cheap. She’s probably hooking up with some rich old man. You guys, you straight guys don’t get it, but women know women best. Girls like her are never ‘good’ girls.” I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. Excuse me, can’t I just be born into wealth? Rich people have daughters too, you know. I pulled out my phone and dialed, “Cancel the patent license authorization for Sterling Dynamics.” Sterling Dynamics was my boyfriend’s company. Without my patent license, his company was nothing but an empty shell. … The voices inside the room didn’t stop. Sophia Lane’s cackle was particularly grating. “Darling, I’m telling you, when you’re looking for a partner, find someone with good character, don’t just focus on looks,” she chided. “I’m a slut-detector expert; one look and I can tell she’s a manipulative schemer.” I expected my boyfriend, Dylan Sterling, to defend me, even just a little. But he remained silent. Instead, his group of buddies eagerly chimed in, one after another. “She definitely looks like trouble.” “I trust Sophia, when has she ever lied to us?” “Maybe we should give that girl a test…” A few minutes later, I pushed open the private room door. The teasing voices inside instantly died. Most of them instinctively lowered their gazes, avoiding my eyes. Dylan, however, kept sipping his drink, staring straight at me. Sophia showed no sign of guilt, lifting her chin and curving her lips into a smile at me. She acted as if nothing had happened, enthusiastically pulling me to sit down. “Oh, hey, gorgeous, sit next to me. Stay away from those stinky boys. I want to cuddle with a beauty.” Despite her words, she was practically glued to Dylan. She sat between us, effectively separating us. Recalling the malicious speculations from moments before, my face tightened into a grim expression. “Yes, I’ll keep my distance. You two can get closer.” At my words, the atmosphere in the room solidified. Sophia, feigning disbelief, clapped a hand over her mouth and gasped, “Oh my god, you’re not one of those ‘relationship-brained’ types, are you? It’s scary how you get jealous if any woman even approaches your man. Sister, that’s not good, what man could put up with that?” Saying this, she patted Dylan’s shoulder with exaggerated sympathy, shaking her head. “You’re in for it later, buddy.” Dylan’s face turned from pale to crimson, and he slammed his glass onto the floor with a heavy thud. “Summer Reynolds, who are you being sarcastic with?” “Oh, so you can talk? I thought you were mute.” I shot back, not backing down in the slightest. Dylan’s expression completely darkened. He was about to explode again. Sophia tugged at his sleeve, subtly winking at him. The group around them began to scrutinize me with an air of amused expectation. I knew their so-called “test” was about to begin. A guy with bright yellow hair spoke first. “That’s a nice bag you have. Who gave it to you?” “My father,” I gritted out. “‘Father,’ what kind of father? Is he… that kind of father?” the yellow-haired guy asked with a malicious smirk. Everyone else understood the insinuation. A roar of laughter filled the room. Dylan’s face grew even darker. My expression remained unchanged as I smiled at the yellow-haired guy. “You know so much about it; how many fathers do you have? You’re so receptive, you must be the bottom.” The yellow-haired guy jumped to his feet, about to lash out at me. Sophia held him back, then smiled sweetly at me. “Hey, gorgeous, how did you end up with a guy like Dylan? Was it a deliberate ‘chance’ encounter you orchestrated? How romantic.” The implication was clear: she was accusing me of “scheming to get close to Dylan.” Sophia looked at Dylan, laughing exaggeratedly. “Well, I guess it makes sense. My boy is handsome and has a little wealth; it’s normal for him to be targeted.” I let out a soft laugh, my fingertip unconsciously tracing the expensive patterns on my bag. Even in the dim light, its luxurious quality was undeniable. “Didn’t your ‘boy’ tell you that it was love at first sight for him, and he pursued me?” At my words, the smile on Sophia’s face completely faltered. I continued, mimicking her astonished hand-over-mouth laugh. “Oh, my, you didn’t know? Your ‘boy’ was so serious about chasing me back then. He even said he only knew what love was after meeting me. So romantic!” Sophia completely lost control of her expression, her face contorting grotesquely. Before she could say anything, Dylan couldn’t sit still any longer. He lunged forward, grabbing me from the sofa. “Summer Reynolds, that’s enough!” Everyone else was staring at me with ill intent. I forcefully pulled my hand from Dylan’s grasp, then coldly swept my gaze across the group. Dylan’s face remained stern, but the frustration in his chest lingered. “Apologize to Sophia.” “Why should I?” I didn’t back down one inch. Sophia bit her lip, looking at me with undisguised resentment. She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, what a temper. Anyone would think you’re some heiress throwing your weight around. But don’t be angry, gorgeous. We mean no harm, we’re all just buddies.” I wasn’t angry; instead, I smiled as I openly appraised her. “‘Buddies’? A cleavage-baring, attention-seeking ‘buddy’?” Dylan angrily slammed the table again, glaring at me. “Apologize!” Sophia giggled, lightly punching Dylan’s chest a couple of times. “Don’t be angry, honey.” Then she looked at me. “Calm down, I’m just used to being around men, so I don’t filter my words. Don’t mind me.” “Indeed,” I nodded seriously. As Sophia’s eyes practically devoured me, I continued, “Making baseless accusations, stepping on other women to elevate your own value – you certainly are despicable.” At these words, the entire room fell into a dead silence. The group of people let out awkward, forced laughs. Seeing that I had exposed her, Sophia dropped the act. “So what if you heard? If you say it’s not true, then prove it.” Dylan’s face tightened. “Yes, prove it.” Meeting my gaze, Dylan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes held complex emotions: embarrassment from being exposed in front of everyone, but more so, a struggle over how to face me. I turned to look at Dylan. At that moment, I felt like I was truly seeing him for the first time. Before today, Dylan had been quite good to me. He proactively shared his schedule, kept his distance from other women, and worried more than I did when I was sick. My friends all said I had found the perfect, doting boyfriend. Yet, this very person, simply because of Sophia’s baseless guesses, doubted my character. “Why should I prove myself?” I looked at Sophia. “You’d better have evidence.” With that, I reached for my phone to call the police. But Dylan suddenly snatched it away. His brows were deeply furrowed, and his eyes held even more disappointment as he looked at me. “Summer Reynolds, when did you become so sharp-tongued and petty?” “Sharp-tongued and petty?” I shed all traces of my smile. Under everyone’s stunned gazes, I used all my strength and slapped Dylan across the face. I had grown up cherished by my family, never having to endure such humiliation. There was no way I would swallow my anger. Before anyone could react, I snatched my phone back, grabbed my bag, and turned to walk out with a flourish. Behind me, I heard Sophia’s shrieks and Dylan’s furious roar, along with the sound of a shattering bottle. Don’t let my poised departure fool you. The moment I reached my best friend’s place, I burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably. “Honey, I broke up with him!” “Oh my god, where are they? I’ll go back there with you and kick their asses!” my friend yelled, jumping up in a rage. I pulled her back, crying and laughing at the same time. “No need. I’m not someone to be trifled with. They’ll regret it soon enough.” Just then, a message from Sophia came through. [Hey, gorgeous, you alright? Not secretly hiding and crying, are you?] [Oh well, I’ll help you teach Dylan a good lesson. He’s my boy, and he listens to me best.] She also sent a few photos. Selfies. In the dim streetlights, Sophia was being carried on a tall man’s back. Her head rested on his shoulder, a bright smile on her face. Just from the back of his head, I knew it was Dylan. My best friend, unable to bear it, snatched my phone and made a call. “Damn it, you faux-tomboy, you can twist your body like that just to take a picture, are you in heat or something? I really don’t know what your mother taught you. Did she only teach you how to be a mistress, and not about decency and honor?” Sophia was stunned by the outburst. “You, who are you? How dare you say that to me! Wah, wah, Summer Reynolds, how could you find someone to insult me like this?!” The next second, Dylan’s furious voice came through. “Summer Reynolds, you’re becoming more and more unreasonable. As a fellow woman, you’re letting your friend spread nasty rumors about Sophia. Sophia and I are completely innocent. Sophia was worried when you ran off by yourself late at night, that’s why she came out with me to look for you. If you were even half as sensible as Sophia, I would have…” I cut him off. “Oh, in that case, you two should thank me.” “What?” Dylan was confused. I held back my best friend, who was about to unleash another volley of curses. “If you didn’t use me as an excuse, how else could you have had a romantic moonlight stroll on her back?” Dylan choked. Half a minute later, he explained, completely unblushing. “Sophia was walking too fast just now and twisted her ankle accidentally. It’s because of you she got hurt, Summer Reynolds, don’t you feel any guilt?” Sophia continued to fan the flames. “Oh my, your girlfriend is really too sensitive. Never mind, if that’s the case, we should interact less in the future. Otherwise, she’ll just bring her friends to call me a mistress again, and I can’t handle that.” Her words, as expected, reignited Dylan’s anger. “Summer Reynolds, apologize…” “Breakup.” I directly cut off his nonsense. The person on the other end fell silent. I could clearly hear Dylan’s breathing become heavy. Sophia continued to be sarcastic. “I get it, isn’t this just playing hard to get? Trying to manipulate you. Dylan, your old man here has been a slut-detector for years; you think I don’t understand her little schemes?” My best friend snatched the phone again. “Only a whore sees everyone else as a whore.” Meanwhile, I, without another word, blocked and deleted all of Sophia and Dylan’s contact information. The next day, I arrived at Sterling Dynamics. The receptionist stopped me, her tone dismissive. “Apologies, unauthorized personnel are not permitted entry.” I frowned, puzzled. The receptionist gestured for me to look at a group message. I clicked it open. Well, well, well, I had been fired. The person who posted the termination notice was Sophia Lane. Sophia had only returned to the country yesterday, and today she was already in charge? Passing employees eyed me with sneering looks. “Oh, isn’t this our boss’s gold-digging ex?” “How dare she even show up? If I were her, I’d be too ashamed to show my face.” “The nerve of some people.” I sneered, pushing away the receptionist’s hand. “I don’t accept this. If you want to fire me, you need to provide severance.” I wasn’t short on money. But I wasn’t going to make it easy for Dylan. When I reached my desk, I found all my belongings piled in a corner. Just as I was about to explode, an employee I usually didn’t get along with shoved their phone in my face. “You actually dared to show up? Your whole mess has spread throughout the company.” “Seriously, Summer Reynolds, being around you makes the air feel polluted.” I stared intently at the phone screen. It displayed several photos. They were candid shots of me, holding my father’s arm, getting into a Rolls-Royce. Several photos, taken from different angles. My face completely darkened. “Who took these photos?” “Pfft, are you just lashing out because you’re angry?” The employee’s laughter became even more exaggerated. Other employees gathered in small groups, their naked, mocking gazes fixed on me. Dylan happened to walk past. I thought he would at least reprimand them upon seeing this scene. But he disappointed me once again. Dylan glanced at me. “Don’t stir up trouble and cause chaos in the company.” Sophia pushed open the door at that moment. She seemed surprised to see me. “Why are you still at the company? Weren’t you fired?” I instinctively looked at Dylan. His eyes darted away. He sighed. “Summer Reynolds, if you can’t tolerate Sophia, then you should leave. Sophia is a highly educated talent from abroad; I’ve decided to let her take over your position.” I looked at Dylan in disbelief. I was considered a founding member of the company, and he was just dismissing me like this? Well done.

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