Author: Momo Chan

The giant baby intern in HR accidentally sent a termination email to the entire company. The whole department panicked and packed up to leave. Afterward, she cried her heart out, blaming herself. Not only was she completely unharmed, but the boss also rewarded her with a seven-day paid vacation and a $10,000 “emotional distress” bonus. Meanwhile, we, who believed the email was real, were marked as “absent without leave.” We were publicly reprimanded, and our performance bonuses were docked! Even worse, our combined year-end bonuses—totaling $100,000—were seized to pay for her compensation! I led the charge to confront the boss, but she immediately played the victim. “Ah! The Wicked Witch is here! So scary! Is she going to eat me? Save me, Daddy CEO!” Before the boss could even speak, my colleagues, desperate to suck up, instantly turned on me. “Exactly! You have zero empathy. Why are you picking on a fresh grad?” “No wonder you’re thirty and single. With a heart that toxic, you deserve to be alone!” In that moment, I became public enemy number one. The boss fired me on the spot for “destroying team unity.” Looking at their ugly faces, I laughed out of pure rage, ripped off my badge, and walked away. Since you all want to protect her so badly, I hope that when the IRS knocks on your door tomorrow… Your “Baby” can explain those dual accounting books. 1 Tuesday, 10:00 AM. The work group chat exploded. An email, bolded and highlighted in red, popped up for every employee. From: HR – Bella “Cutie Pie” Swan Subject: [NOTICE OF TERMINATION] The content was simple and brutal: [Because my computer screen keeps flickering and bullying me, Baby has decided to send you all home! Effective immediately, all employment contracts are terminated. Hmph! Don’t come back!] The office fell into a deathly silence, followed by an eruption of screams. “Holy sh*t? Did the company go under?” “The reason is her computer bullied her? What kind of insane excuse is that?” “Why are you just standing there? Grab your stuff! If you’re late, you won’t even get your laptop!” Someone shouted, and chaos ensued. As the CFO, my first reaction was to rush to the CEO, Simon Vance’s office. Empty. I went to find Bella. Her desk was empty too. I called Simon a dozen times. Straight to voicemail. Now even I was panicking. I manage the money. I knew the books were… flexible… but not “sudden death” flexible. But the boss is missing, and HR sent a termination letter. Isn’t this the standard procedure for a rug pull? Panic is contagious. Swept up by the crowd, I packed my personal items and went home in defeat. That night, the main group chat was chaos. Some were cursing, some crying about mortgages, others were already contacting lawyers for a class-action lawsuit. Then, early the next morning, a message from Simon popped up. [Everyone, get your asses back to work immediately!] [Anyone one minute late loses their entire month’s bonus!] Not bankrupt? Confused, we rushed back to the office. Pushing open the conference room doors, we saw Bella curled up in Simon’s lap. She actually had a pacifier in her mouth! “Daddy Simon, I really didn’t mean to.” “I wanted to send the Afternoon Tea notification, but my hand slipped, and the mouse was being naughty! Bad mouse!” I stood at the door, my brain trembling. Afternoon Tea notification and Termination Letter. One is under “Admin,” the other under “HR.” They are miles apart in the system, and you need a admin password to confirm sending the latter. And you “slipped”? Suppressing my rage, I walked in. “Mr. Vance, since it’s a misunderstanding, everyone can just get back to work. No need for such anger.” Simon looked up, his eyes ready to devour me. While gently patting Bella, he pointed at me and roared: “Joanna! Do you have no shame?” “You are the CFO! A senior executive! Yet you have zero composure!” “Bella is just a child! She made a small mistake, and instead of fixing it, you led the charge to loot company assets and skipped work!” I laughed in disbelief. “Mr. Vance, that was a termination letter with the official company seal, not a game of house.” “And Bella, as HR, made a low-level error that shut down the entire company. Shouldn’t she be held accountable?” Before I finished, Bella suddenly wailed. She spat out the pacifier and kicked her legs wildly on the chair: “Waaaah! The big sister is so mean! She’s going to eat me!” “I want to go home! I don’t want to work! There are monsters here! Boohoo!” Heartbroken, Simon hugged her tight and screamed at me: “Joanna! Shut up! Look how scared you’ve made Bella!” “She’s still an intern! Can she be compared to old veterans like you?” Then, Simon announced a decision that blew everyone’s mind. “Given that Bella made a mistake, her attitude is sincere, and she has been traumatized.” “I am approving a special seven-day paid leave, fully covered by the company, plus a $10,000 emotional distress bonus.” “As for you!” He glared around the room. “Yesterday’s collective absence without leave warrants a public reprimand for everyone!” “This month’s performance bonuses are forfeited! Any losses caused will be deducted from your salaries!” “Additionally, everyone’s year-end bonus will be docked to pay for Bella’s compensation!” My eyes widened in disbelief. “Excuse me? She made the mistake, why are you deducting our money?!” Before I could argue further, my colleagues—who were calling the boss a son of a b*tch in the group chat yesterday—suddenly changed their tune. Old Tom from Sales jumped out first, fawning: “Director Joanna, Bella is young, it’s her first job. Mistakes are normal.” Then, the Admin lady chimed in: “Yeah, this is just tough love for Bella.” Even Emily, the apprentice I trained for three years, lowered her head and whispered: “Master, just stop talking. Don’t make Mr. Vance angry and drag us all down…” Looking at these spineless cowards, I felt sick to my stomach. Bella peeked out from Simon’s embrace, picked up the drool-covered pacifier, and stuck it back in her mouth. She gave me a provocative smirk: “Bad woman! I’ll beat you up! Neener neener!” 2 During Bella’s seven-day leave, the company turned into chaos. Before she left, to prevent another “slip,” she changed the entire company system font to “Comic Sans.” Looking at that font made my eyes bleed. Even more ridiculous, she locked everyone’s system permissions. Her reason: “What if someone secretly changes data to bully me while I’m gone? Baby needs to protect herself.” New hires couldn’t be onboarded. Payroll couldn’t be processed. I went to Simon. He was busy liking Bella’s Instagram posts. Without looking up, he said: “Don’t bother me with trifles. Wait until Bella comes back.” “She is in her emotional healing period. No one is allowed to disturb her!” Fine. I swallowed my disgust, returned to the finance office, looked at the mountain of unprocessed invoices, and sneered. Seven days later, Bella finally returned. She came in with bags of plushies and merch. She fluttered around the office like a butterfly. “Tom, here’s a keychain. Hope you won’t be so mean in the future.” “Linda, here’s a sticker for your laptop. It’ll make you happy!” Holding these cheap trinkets, everyone acted like they were moved to tears. Bella walked up to me and tossed a squashed candy on my desk. “Sister Joanna, I saved this specially for you.” She blinked her big eyes, looking innocent. Colleagues immediately chimed in: “Director, aren’t you going to thank Bella?” “Bella repays evil with kindness. Learn from her!” I looked at the crushed candy and swept it into the trash. “No thanks. It’s work hours.” “The HR system isn’t restored. We can’t do payroll this month. Do you want everyone to starve?” Mentioning payroll, Bella suddenly laughed through her tears, as if remembering something fun. “Oh, Daddy Simon! I was just going to tell you!” “I invented a new way to calculate wages called the Mood Performance Method!” She pulled out a pink notebook covered in drawings of smiley and crying faces. “From now on, everyone’s salary will be based on how I feel when I see them!” “If you make me happy, you get a bonus! If you make me unhappy, I deduct money!” “This way, everyone will be more loving and united! Right, Daddy Simon?” I was trembling with rage. This was the biggest joke in the world! But Simon slapped his thigh in approval: “Great! What a brilliant idea!” “It’s human-centric and lively! Breaks the rigid financial system!” “Do as Bella says! Bella is in charge of payroll this month!” I immediately objected: “Mr. Vance, this violates audit procedures. If the IRS checks…” “Shut up!” Simon cut me off rudely. “Laws, taxes… Joanna, you’re annoying.” “I opened this company. I pay how I want!” I looked around. The colleagues who usually fought over every cent on their pay stubs didn’t say a word. They knew that in this company, sucking up to the giant baby was more effective than working hard. Under Bella’s Mood Performance Management, the company became a giant kindergarten. Every morning, instead of clocking in, we had to do a “Good Morning Dance” for Bella. Old Tom, a burly man, pinched his fingers and meowed like a cat for that extra $100. I almost vomited my breakfast. Because I refused to participate in this idiocy, not only did I lose my attendance bonus, but I became the source of “negative energy” in Bella’s eyes. “Sister Joanna, why aren’t you smiling?” Bella stood at my desk with her pink notebook. I ignored her and continued checking the messy manual ledgers. Since the reform, all reimbursement forms became her coloring book. On a $2,000 dining invoice, she drew a giant pig head and wrote: [This place tastes bad. Denied!] On a request for office supplies, she put stickers and wrote: [This notebook is ugly. I’ll approve if it’s pink~] I couldn’t take it anymore. I stormed into Simon’s office with the receipts. “Mr. Vance, I can’t do these accounts!” “Bella is blocking legitimate business expenses and approving nonsense!” I slammed the receipts on his desk. “Look at this. ‘Emotional Healing Boba Tea’, $300? Is she drinking gold?” “And this. ‘Aesthetic Improvement JK Uniform’. This is an office expense?” Simon was gaming with headphones on. He looked annoyed. “Isn’t this good? It shows Bella treats the company like home.” “Joanna, as CFO, you need to open your mind.” “But…” “Enough ‘buts’!” Simon threw his headphones. “If you can’t do it, just say so. Stop complaining.” “Bella is learning finance fast. If you keep this attitude, she can have your job!” Give it to her? To a giant baby who doesn’t know debit from credit and only draws smiley faces? Before I could retort, Bella pushed the door open. “Daddy Simon, is Sister Joanna badmouthing me again?” “Why is she so insensible? She doesn’t understand my good intentions. I’m saving money for the company.” Simon instantly switched to a smile: “Of course not. Baby is the best.” “It’s Joanna who is narrow-minded and jealous of your excellence.” Bella leaned into him, blinking at me. Her eyes held zero innocence and 100% malice. “Daddy Simon, since Sister Joanna is so unhappy, let her handle the IRS inspection tomorrow.” My heart skipped a beat. The IRS was coming for a routine check tomorrow. If they saw these books… we’d be fined into oblivion! “No!” I refused flatly. “The current accounts cannot be seen!” Simon’s face darkened. “Why not? I think Bella’s accounts are cute and creative!” “Joanna, if you can’t handle this small thing, don’t bother coming in tomorrow!” Bella fanned the flames: “Yeah, isn’t Sister Joanna a top university grad? Can’t even handle this?” “If you’re scared, beg me. Maybe if I’m in a good mood, I’ll act cute for the IRS officer and make it go away.” Beg her? I looked at the delusional couple. My anger cooled into icy resolve. Since you want to die, don’t blame me for handing you the knife. 3 The next morning, before the IRS arrived, the company exploded. It was payday. According to Bella’s Mood Performance Method, pay slips were distributed. “WTF? Why is my salary only $50?” Old Tom, the sales champ, was shaking. “I ran my legs off last month. My commission alone should be $2,000. How is it $50?” Everyone went mad, surrounding the finance office with red eyes. “Joanna! Get out here!” “Did you embezzle our money? You black-hearted accountant!” Of course, the blame fell on me. I calmly sipped my coffee and pointed to a pink poster on the door. Bella’s crooked handwriting read: [Love Salary Ranking]. “Don’t blame me.” “The payroll was drawn by Bella and signed by Simon.” “She said you guys performed well but looked too old, affecting her ‘Baby Aura’, so she deducted an ‘Ugly Tax’.” Hearing this, they almost fainted from rage. Just then, Bella arrived on Simon’s arm. “Anyone who dares to make trouble is disobeying management! Fired immediately! No severance!” Simon roared with a dark face. Threatened with unemployment, the mob deflated instantly. Old Tom gritted his teeth and forced a smile uglier than crying: “We… we accept it.” “Miss Bella is right. We aren’t pretty enough. We will improve.” Bella lifted her chin proudly, looking down at me: “See, Joanna?” “This is charisma.” She suddenly pulled a stack of papers from her bag and threw them in my face. “What is this?” I picked it up. A termination notice. Reason: [Destroying team unity, bullying newcomers, evil intentions.] “You’re fired.” Bella smiled sweetly. Simon added from behind: “Not only are you fired, but the $10,000 emotional distress fee will be deducted from your final pay!” The colleagues, eager to please the crazy couple, kicked me while I was down. “Yeah, Joanna, just leave. Don’t drag us down.” “Hated your stinking face anyway.” “You bullied Bella, you deserve it!” Looking at these clowns, I suddenly found it funny. I took off my badge and placed it on the desk. “Fine. I’ll go.” As I walked to the door, someone knocked. Bella shouted impatiently: “Who is it? Can’t you see Baby is giving a lecture?” She pulled the door open. Standing there were four or five men in uniforms, looking stern. The leader held up a badge. Bella looked at their uniforms and burst out laughing. “Daddy Simon! Look at this old witch Joanna!” “She hired extras to scare me! Wearing costumes and everything.” In that moment, I clearly saw the officer’s face turn black as coal. Simon came over, looking at them with disdain: “Joanna, how childish are you? Get out with your circus troupe! Or I’ll call the police!” I stepped into the elevator and pressed the down button. “Mr. Vance, Bella, you misunderstand.” “That is Section Chief Liu from the IRS and Captain Zhao from Economic Crimes.” “They aren’t actors. They are here to audit the books after I reported you with my real name.” “Here is all the evidence of dual accounting, tax evasion, and embezzlement.” The elevator doors closed slowly. In the last sliver, I saw Bella’s face twist in horror and the glint of handcuffs in Chief Liu’s hand. “Good luck.” 4 The doors were about to shut. Bella screamed and pried them open. “You can’t leave! Bad woman!” She bit Chief Liu’s wrist, drawing blood. “Daddy Simon! Beat these bad guys! They’re bullying Baby!” Chief Liu grimaced and slammed her onto the floor with a takedown. Bella’s face pressed against the tiles, legs kicking wildly. “Waaah! Murder! Help!” Simon charged like a madman but was handcuffed instantly by Captain Zhao. “Assaulting an officer, resisting tax investigation, obstruction of justice. Take them away!” The office was chaos. I watched coldly, but felt uneasy. Simon was too calm. Even in cuffs, his eyes were full of contempt and madness. “Joanna, you think this will kill me?” “Bella is my lucky charm. If you touch her, heaven will punish you!” I ignored his ravings and cooperated with the police. However, less than 24 hours later. I had just finished organizing evidence at a cafe when my phone rang. It was Emily, crying. “Sister Joanna, look at the group… Mr. Vance and Bella are back!” How? Assaulting police plus tax evasion—ironclad evidence. How could they be out? I opened the group chat. Simon sent ten $200 red envelopes. Note: [Celebrating Baby’s Survival of the Ordeal!] Bella posted a selfie. She was wearing a pink tutu, sitting on Simon’s desk, holding scissors. Background: shredded paper—copies of the tax records sealed by the IRS. Caption: [Hmph! Police station day trip is over! The police uncle said Baby is too cute to lock up! Die mad, bad woman! Neener neener!] I called Captain Zhao immediately. His tone was helpless: “Ms. Joanna, Simon took all the blame. He said he ordered everything and Bella is mentally challenged and was manipulated.” “Also, Simon used connections and paid bail. He’s applying for a review. We had to release them for now.” “But don’t worry, they are restricted from leaving the country.” I took a deep breath. Mentally challenged? What a way to escape. Before I could think, another @All popped up. Simon: [Notice: Due to Joanna’s malicious reporting damaging the company’s magnetic field. To soothe Bella’s wounded soul, effective immediately, the company initiates the “Baby Guardian Plan”.] [All employees must surrender their ID cards and passports to prevent betrayal!] [Those who refuse will be fired and must pay 10 times the breach of contract fee!] This wasn’t management; it was imprisonment and extortion. Terrifyingly, the chat filled with “Received.” Those colleagues with mortgages were completely trapped. I gripped my phone. If the law is slow, don’t blame me for using commercial means. I called Mr. Zhou, head of the investment firm that was Simon’s biggest backer—and my current new boss. “Mr. Zhou, the VAM agreement is triggered.” “Simon’s behavior constitutes a severe threat to asset safety.” “I apply for a hostile takeover.” Silence for two seconds. “Granted. Joanna, take the security team and close the net.” With a team of black-clad bodyguards, I returned to the company. The scene that greeted me shattered my worldview. The fingerprint scanner was smashed. In its place was a giant pink bouncy castle. The receptionist wore an oversized bib and a pacifier, scrubbing the floor on her knees. Seeing me, she dropped the pacifier, teary-eyed. “Joanna… sister…” “Shh! No talking!” Bella’s voice came from inside. “Daddy Simon said Baby’s world must be pure!” “Everyone must make baby noises! Anyone who doesn’t sound like a baby can’t go to the bathroom!” I kicked open the bouncy castle door and marched in. In the office, dozens of adults, men and women, wore pink baby bonnets. Old Tom, the balding man in his forties, was crawling at Bella’s feet, shaking a rattle. “Goo goo gaga…” Bella sat in the boss’s chair, feet resting on Tom’s back. “Good boy! Have a candy!” Old Tom swallowed his humiliation and the candy with a smile. “Enough!” I shouted. My bodyguards swarmed in, securing the scene instantly. Bella jumped up, startled. “Wah! The Wicked Witch brought the Black Magic Fairies!” “Daddy Simon! Save me! Baby is scared!” Simon rushed out from the inner room. Dark circles under his eyes, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. “Joanna! You dare come back!” I looked at him coldly and pulled out the termination letter and takeover notice. “Simon, according to the investment agreement, you have been removed by the board for gross misconduct.” “Now, pack your sh*t and get out.” Simon froze. Then he laughed maniacally. “Remove me? Hahaha! You dare? I have Bella! She is the Chosen One!” “The Master said, the more she acts out in my company, the more prosperous I become!” “This is destruction before creation! You know nothing!” Just as I suspected. This was the real reason he indulged her. Not lust, but cult-like superstition. “I think your brain is flooded.” I waved my hand. “Clear the room! Everyone unrelated, out!” Bodyguards moved to evict the employees in bibs. Seeing this, Bella screamed and ran toward the server room. “Don’t touch my house! I’ll burn your house down!” She held a lighter. “Bella! Don’t!” Simon panicked, trying to stop her. But Bella was fast. She kicked open the server room door and threw the lit lighter onto a pile of paper archives near the server vents. Flames shot up instantly. Alarms blared. I was stunned. She actually set the fire! “Fire! Put out the fire!” I roared and rushed forward. But Bella stood before the flames, clapping and laughing. “So warm! Bonfire party!” “Burn the Wicked Witch! Burn the Black Fairies!” Simon stood by, watching the fire, a look of twisted obsession on his face. “Fire… fire creates earth, earth creates gold…” “Prosperity! It’s coming!” “Bella really brings me luck! This fire is good!” Lunatics. All of them. The fire spread fast. Smoke filled the hallway. The bodyguards grabbed me, abandoning the arrest. “Ms. Joanna! The fire is too big! Go!” I was pushed into the stairwell. Looking back one last time, I saw Bella riding on Simon’s shoulders, dancing in front of the inferno.

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This year, the Finance Department achieved a miracle. We saved the company $5 million in taxes through legitimate planning and recovered $30 million in bad debts. The night before the Annual Gala, the CEO ordered us to withdraw $8 million in cash and stack it in the main conference room. He specifically assigned the Finance Department to guard it overnight. “Gwen, thank you all for your hard work tonight. Tomorrow at the Gala, I have prepared a special, exclusive grand prize for the Finance Department!” That night, guarding $8 million in cash, we didn’t even dare go to the bathroom alone. “Gwen, $8 million smells so good,” the intern, Mia Lopez, whispered, staring at the mountain of cash with stars in her eyes. “Mr. Stone said he prepared a surprise. Do you think it’s a stack for each of us?” I smiled but didn’t answer. Knowing that cheapskate, a $500 bonus would be a miracle. But I never expected the bar to be lowered straight into hell. At the Gala, the Sales Department collected cash in literal sacks. The Top Sales Rep walked away with $300,000. When it was Finance’s turn, the CEO smiled and handed me a cheap device that screamed “Zero! Zero!” in a robotic voice. “The Finance Department works the hardest, always dealing with numbers,” he announced. “Here, a brand new calculator for each of you! Calculate faster, work less overtime!” 1 “Beep—Zero! Zero!” The crowd erupted in laughter, the sound nearly lifting the roof. Sales Director Rob Thorne laughed the loudest, clutching his sack of cash and pointing at us: “Mr. Stone really knows how to pick a gift!” “Let the finance ladies clear last year’s accounts to zero! Start fresh next year—more work, less nitpicking!” This was the “exclusive grand prize” Victor Stone promised. This was the “surprise” we earned by guarding cash all night until our bladders nearly burst. Last night, after hours, the building management turned off the heating. The conference room was 14 degrees Fahrenheit. To guard the $8 million he wanted to use to “flex his power,” the five of us huddled in surplus coats, taking turns staring at the cash, afraid to even blink. Mia, the intern, fell asleep on a stack of bills and drooled. She woke up terrified, thinking she’d be fined for soiling the money. My deputy, John Carter, has a severe herniated disc. He sat on a tiny stool all night and couldn’t walk straight this morning. We guarded a mountain of gold, only to receive a public execution. “Mr. Stone.” I took a step forward to the microphone. The laughter died down slightly, but the malicious gazes still pricked my skin. Victor Stone looked at me with a smile full of mockery: “What’s wrong, Gwen Bennett? Too excited? No need to thank me. It’s a small token from the company. A workman must sharpen his tools to do his work well, right?” “We don’t want tokens. We want fairness.” I stared at him, suppressing the rage in my chest. “This year, Finance saved the company $5 million in taxes through legal compliance.” “Last month, our entire department spent two weeks in the snow to recover $30 million in bad debts. We were bitten by dogs, splashed with water.” “Sales took a 5% commission. They deserved it; they are heroes.” “But what about us?” “We guarded $8 million in cash all night, and we get a $1.99 calculator?” The room went silent for a few seconds. The smile on Stone’s face faded. He spoke slowly: “Gwen, your math is wrong.” He picked up the mic, speaking earnestly to the whole room: “Finance works hard, sure. But you need to understand the logic.” “Sales is on the front line fighting the war. They are the ones feeding the company!” “And Finance? You are the nannies in the back. The money belongs to the company. The bad debts were recovered because Legal is intimidating. The tax savings are thanks to government policy.” “You just moved your fingers and pressed a few buttons. And you want a million-dollar commission?” “Should I give the receptionist shares because she presses the elevator button for me every day?” Laughter exploded again. This time, it was unrestrained and full of malice. “Exactly! Finance always has a long face, making reimbursement so hard. And they want commission?” “Mr. Stone is right. They’re just bean counters. No production, yet they want to split the money? Crazy!” The humiliation slapped me across the face. I felt my colleagues behind me reach their breaking point. I heard Mia sniffle. “Fine.” I nodded and slammed the calculator onto the podium. “Since Mr. Stone thinks we only know how to press buttons, this gift is too expensive for us.” I turned to the red-eyed women behind me. “Let’s go.” 2 Walking out of the hotel into the cold wind, I realized my back was soaked in cold sweat. “Gwen, I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold it back…” Mia squatted by the curb, sobbing uncontrollably. “My mom’s surgery is next week…” “The doctor said we need $15,000. I thought… I thought this bonus would be at least $5,000. With my savings, it would be enough…” “Stop crying.” Sarah Jenkins, a senior accountant, dug tissues out of her bag and roughly wiped Mia’s tears, her own hands shaking. “Who are you crying for? Didn’t you hear Rob Thorne and his goons? We are parasites!” “But Sarah…” Mia looked up, her makeup ruined. “That $5 million tax plan… you made so many versions to get it right. The $30 million debt… Gwen led us to hell and back to get it…” “How does it have nothing to do with us?” “When we signed the commitment letter, Mr. Stone promised us 1% commission.” I stood silently, lighting a cigarette. He agreed so easily back then probably because he was sure we couldn’t do it. Ding. A phone lit up. It was a notification on Sarah’s phone: Tuition Payment Reminder. She panicked and turned off the screen, avoiding my gaze. “I’ll figure out the money.” I looked back at the hotel. “What belongs to us, no one can take away. Go home and sleep. Tomorrow, show up on time.” The next morning, I arrived an hour early. Victor Stone’s office door was ajar. Inside, smoke swirled, and laughter boomed. “Mr. Stone, that move last night was brilliant!” “Those Finance b*tches turned green! Hahahaha!” “About time we took them down a peg. Always blocking my reimbursements. Now they’ll behave.” “Hmph, bunch of misers. Blocking me from using my own money.” Stone’s voice was cold. “If they weren’t still somewhat useful, I’d say even that $1.99 was a waste.” “By the way, how’s the ‘Cloud Finance’ AI system deal going with Mr. Fisher?” “Done!” “Service fee is only $20,000 a year. Way cheaper than feeding these idlers!” “And it’s AI. It listens, doesn’t talk back!” I stood at the door, my hand freezing on the handle. So that’s it. Not to liven up the atmosphere, not a whim. It was a premeditated slaughter of the donkey after it turned the mill. Humiliate us to force us to quit so he can save on the severance package. I pushed the door open. The laughter cut off instantly. Seeing me, the surprise on Stone’s face turned to impatience. “Don’t know how to knock? Where are your manners?” Rob Thorne leaned back on the sofa, legs crossed, looking at me with amusement: “Yo, Director Bennett is here?” “What, calculator broke? Want Sales to pool money for a new one?” I ignored the mad dog and walked straight to Stone’s desk, placing my hands on it and staring him down. “Mr. Stone, since you think Finance is useless, we won’t be an eyesore anymore.” “Here is our compensation plan. Severance plus the promised commission for the bad debts. Not a penny less.” “Sign it, and we leave immediately to make room for your AI.” I slammed the list I printed last night onto the desk. Stone glanced at the number, his eye twitching. “$300,000 commission? Gwen, are you robbing me?” “Is it a lot?” I sneered. “Yesterday Rob took $300,000 alone. We are asking for five people. Compared to the $30 million we recovered, this is peanuts.” “That’s the company’s money!” Stone slammed his cup on the table. “Gwen, don’t be ungrateful. Want to leave? Fine! Write a resignation letter and get out! Want severance? In your dreams!” “So there’s no negotiation?” 3 “Negotiate? What right do you have to negotiate with me?” Stone stood up, grabbing a stack of files and throwing them at me. “Believe it or not, I’ll have security throw you out right now!” “Public insubordination, terrible attitude.” “You’re fired! Without a cent!” Rob sneered from the side: “Hear that? Get lost. Don’t embarrass yourself further!” I looked at Stone’s face and suddenly smiled. The smile made him pause. “Mr. Stone, you might have forgotten one thing.” I said softly. “Accountants love keeping records. And we are experts at… auditing old accounts.” “If you want to do this cleanly, we follow labor laws. If you don’t…” “Then we’ll help you recall exactly how those $5 million in taxes were ‘planned’.” I turned and left without looking at his changing face. Back in Finance, the atmosphere was oppressive. Everyone’s computer screens were black. “Gwen…” Mia ran over, crying. “I can’t log in. Account frozen.” “And Admin just came to tell us to pack our personal belongings by today…” “Don’t panic.” I patted her shoulder. “Where’s Sarah?” “Small conference room. Director Vance from HR is talking to her.” HR Director Linda Vance. The woman who always smiles and preaches “family culture” was now acting as Stone’s executioner. I pushed open the conference room door. Sarah Jenkins was huddled in a corner, hair messy, looking ten years older. Linda sat opposite her, twirling a pen. Two strangers in black suits sat nearby. “…Accountant Jenkins, think clearly.” Linda’s voice was gentle as always. “This is embezzlement. Falsifying accounts.” “If the company pursues this, you not only have to pay back all wages but also go to jail for a few years.” “Your son is taking his SATs soon, right? If his file says his mom is a convict, his life is ruined.” “Stop! Stop it!” Sarah covered her ears, breaking down. “I’ll sign! I’ll sign voluntary resignation! Please don’t call the police!” “That’s right.” Linda smiled and pushed a document forward. “Wait!” I rushed over, snatched the document, and tore it in half. “Linda, who are you scaring?” I stood in front of Sarah, glaring at her. “Those accounts were authorized by Stone’s signature!” “To evade taxes, he made Sarah split that business into five shell companies. His signature is on every process sheet!” Linda glanced at me with disdain, slowly brushing off the paper scraps. “Gwen, I knew you’d be trouble.” She waved her hand, and the two suits stood up, blocking us. Linda pulled another document from her folder and threw it at me. “You can refuse to sign. You can sue.” “But let me remind you, the legal representative of those shell companies is that little cashier who left your department six months ago.” “Can you, the finance manager, stay clean?” “As for Stone’s signature… do you have proof it’s original? I can print as many of those as I want.” My heart sank. So they were waiting for me here. That cashier was Stone’s distant relative. She left six months ago. The trap was set back then. They buried all the mines under Finance. Once detonated, we are the perfect scapegoats. “And,” Linda leaned in close. “The AI finance team has taken over the backend data. All operation logs on your computers have been wiped. Gwen, what are you going to fight the company with?” 4 Sarah grabbed my sleeve: “Gwen, forget it… we can’t win…” “I can’t go to jail. My son has such good grades…” At the door, Mia and the others heard everything, their faces ashen. Against a company with hundreds of employees and billions in turnover. Are we accountants really just ants to be crushed? Linda watched my expression and smiled with satisfaction. “Tomorrow morning at 9 AM, All-Hands Meeting.” “Mr. Stone will announce the restructuring decision for Finance.” “Gwen, I give you one night to think. Take your salary and leave with dignity, or be ruined and go to federal prison. Your choice.” She left with her men. Only Sarah’s sobbing remained in the room. “Gwen, what do we do?” Mia held my hand, her voice trembling. “Are we really going to jail?” I looked at these comrades who had gone through hell with me. Some got ulcers checking accounts, some were nearly beaten collecting debts, some sacrificed family time without complaint. Now, they were being pushed off a cliff by their own people. “Don’t cry.” “Sarah, do you remember which account the $30 million bad debt was paid into?” Sarah froze, looking up with teary eyes: “It… it went into the general account at Chase Bank. Why?” “No.” I shook my head. “When I negotiated, because the other party didn’t trust Stone’s character, I added a clause in the supplementary agreement.” Mia stopped crying, eyes wide: “What clause?” “Fund Supervision and Final Confirmation Clause.” I explained. “On the books, the balance is there. But the actual status is ‘Frozen Pending Confirmation.’ Stone, that nouveau riche, only looks at numbers, not status. He thinks the money is his.” “According to the agreement, the funds must be system-confirmed by our finance manager before the end of the seventh business day, or they will be returned to the sender.” I looked at the clock. “Tomorrow is the seventh day.” “If I don’t operate by 10 AM tomorrow…” “That $30 million will go ding and fly back to their pocket.” Sarah gasped: “But… but Stone thinks the money is already his! I heard he ordered a Bentley…” “Exactly.” “He thinks he won. He thinks he kicked us out and doesn’t have to pay commission?” “Tomorrow 9 AM, All-Hands Meeting, right?” “Good.” “We’ll use that meeting to teach Mr. Stone a lesson on Financial Risk Control.” The next day, the large conference room was packed. The atmosphere was hotter than the Gala. Rumors that Finance was getting fired en masse, maybe even jailed, had spread. My team and I were seated in the front row, the most conspicuous spot. Reserved for “sinners.” Victor Stone stood on stage, high-spirited, his custom suit making him look almost human. Rob Thorne sat nearby, gloating. Linda Vance was busy distributing documents—pre-written “Confessions of Violation.” On the big screen, bold words read: [Notification Regarding Severe Violations and Personnel Adjustments in Finance Department] “Colleagues,” Stone cleared his throat, voice booming. “It pains me to call this meeting. I have always treated people well, but I never expected there to be traitors in our team!” He pointed at us. “Gwen Bennett and others in Finance abused their positions, repeatedly violated regulations, and are suspected of falsifying accounts and embezzling company assets!” “After a thorough investigation, the evidence is conclusive!” The crowd gasped. “You never know a person’s heart. Their hands are dirty, yet they use rules to block us!” “Tsk tsk, no wonder they wanted bonuses without performance. Appetite grew too big.” Stone was satisfied with the effect. He continued: “For the healthy development of the company, to enforce discipline, the company has decided to immediately fire all involved personnel in Finance! And reserves the right to pursue legal responsibility!” “Of course,” He put on a magnanimous air. “Considering they are old employees, as long as they sign the confession on the spot, admit their mistakes, and return illegal gains, the company may consider not handing them over to the authorities.” Linda placed a “Confession” in front of me. “Sign it, Gwen. This is your last chance.”

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When the car pulled over onto the highway shoulder, I thought Caleb Thorne needed to use the restroom. “Lily is asleep, try not to wake her,” I whispered, pulling my daughter’s small blanket up to her chin. Caleb didn’t turn around. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel. “Grace, take Lily and get out of the car.” I froze. “What?” From the backseat, Vanessa spoke in her soft, syrupy voice. “Caleb, honey, it’s fine. We can squeeze.” Her daughter, Bella, immediately started wailing. “No! I don’t want to sit next to the dirty kid! She coughed earlier!” Caleb turned around. His eyes were colder than I had ever seen them. “Did you hear me? Get out.” “Tessa is already on her way. She’ll be here in thirty minutes.” “Just wait here for a bit.” It was December 28th. The highway was a sheet of ice. The temperature was 23 degrees. I clutched my three-year-old daughter tight and watched him restart the car. The taillights faded into the snowstorm. Until they disappeared completely. 1 The snow fell harder. I held Lily close, standing by the guardrail, trying to shield her from the biting wind with my body. “Mommy, where’s Daddy?” Lily whispered, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. “Daddy… Daddy went to Grandma’s house first,” I forced a smile. “Auntie Tessa is coming to pick us up soon.” “But it’s cold…” I wrapped her inside my down jacket and covered her head with my scarf. My phone had 30% battery left. I called Tessa. Once. Twice. Three times. Finally, she picked up. “Grace? What’s up?” The background noise was loud, like she was at a club. “Tessa, your brother said you were coming to pick us up. Where are you?” “Huh? Pick you up?” Tessa paused. “Oh, right. Caleb mentioned it.” “But I’m partying with friends right now. I can’t leave.” “Just wait a bit. I’ll come later.” “Tessa, it’s freezing out here. Lily can’t handle this…” “Ugh, Grace, stop being so dramatic. What’s the big deal about waiting a little?” “Caleb said Vanessa and Bella can’t catch a cold, so he had to rush them back.” “You two are tough. Waiting a bit longer won’t kill you.” Click. I gripped the phone, my fingers stiff with cold. I called Caleb. Voicemail. I called again. Still voicemail. Lily was shivering in my arms. “Mommy, I want to go home…” “Soon, baby. We’ll be home soon.” I kissed her forehead. My eyes burned. Four years of marriage, and I never knew Caleb could be this cruel. For his ex-girlfriend Vanessa’s daughter, he abandoned his wife and child on the side of a highway in a blizzard. Just because Bella said she didn’t want to sit next to the “dirty kid.” Headlights approached from the distance. I waved frantically. A black SUV slowed down and stopped in front of us. The window rolled down. A young man looked out. “Need help?” It felt like grabbing a lifeline. “Can you give us a ride? Just to the next service station!” The man looked at the child in my arms and frowned. “Get in.” “Thank you! Thank you so much!” I reached for the door handle… “Grace?” I froze. Another head popped out from the back. It was Caleb’s cousin, Ethan. He looked at me, then at the empty highway. “What are you doing here? Where’s Caleb?” I briefly explained what happened. Ethan’s face turned dark. “Is he insane? Leaving you and Lily here?” “So Vanessa’s daughter is human, but his own daughter isn’t?” He swore under his breath and turned to the driver. “Mark, let them in. We’ll squeeze.” The front was full, and the back seat next to Ethan was crowded with gear. “There’s no room…” Mark hesitated. Ethan opened the door and jumped out. “You guys go. I’ll wait here.” “No, you can’t!” “Hurry up!” Ethan shoved me toward the car. “Lily’s face is purple. She can’t stay out here!” I climbed into the back seat with Lily. The heat hit me, making my frozen skin sting. Ethan slammed the door and knocked on the window. “Grace, call me when you get to the service station. I’ll make Caleb come get you!” “Ethan, it’s freezing. What about you…” “I’m a man, I’ll be fine! Worry about the kid! Go!” The car started moving. I watched through the rear window as Ethan stood in the snow, his figure growing smaller and smaller. Tears welled up. My own husband left us to freeze. In the end, the one who saved us was an outsider. 2 Lily fell asleep in my arms, but her face was unnaturally flushed. I touched her forehead. It was burning hot. “Mark, can you drive faster? My daughter has a fever!” Mark nodded and accelerated. I took out my phone to call Tessa again. No signal. The highway wound through the mountains. Reception was spotty. “How much longer to the service station?” “Twenty miles. But with this snow, at least thirty minutes.” Thirty minutes… I held Lily tighter, constantly checking her temperature. Hotter and hotter. “Baby, wake up. Don’t sleep…” Lily opened her eyes groggily. “Mommy, I don’t feel good…” “I know, baby. We’re almost there. Just hang on.” She started coughing, a hacking sound that turned her face purple. I patted her back, tears finally falling. “Please, faster!” “I’m going as fast as I can! The roads are slick!” Mark shouted back, tension in his voice. Lily’s coughing got worse. Her breathing sounded like a broken bellows. “Mommy… I can’t breathe…” I unzipped her coat. Her chest was heaving violently. Acute pneumonia. She had it last year. We almost lost her. “Lily, look at Mommy. Don’t close your eyes!” “Mommy will tell you a story. The one about the little white rabbit…” Her eyes fluttered, half-closed. Her breathing grew faint. I banged on the window like a madwoman. “Help! My daughter is dying! Help us!” But outside, there was nothing but snow and darkness. The car finally pulled into the service station. I rushed into the convenience store with Lily. “Is there a doctor? My daughter is dying! We need help!” The clerk looked terrified. “No… no doctor here…” “Call 911! Now!” “The cell tower is down… landlines aren’t working…” My legs gave out. I nearly collapsed. In my arms, Lily had gone silent. The owner of the small motel next door rummaged through a first-aid kit and found some children’s fever reducers and antibiotics. “Try giving her these?” My hands shook so hard I couldn’t open the packaging. Lily lay on my lap, her breath so shallow it seemed like it would stop any second. I managed to get the medicine in her mouth, but she had no strength to swallow. “Lily, swallow it, please baby…” The liquid trickled out of the corner of her mouth. The owner couldn’t watch anymore. “I’ll drive you to the county hospital. But the snow is heavy, the roads might be closed…” “Go! Please! Go now!” I emptied my wallet and shoved all the cash into his hands. “Please!” The owner gritted his teeth. “Alright! Let’s risk it!” 3 The car crawled along the snow-covered road. Every bump made Lily’s body go limper. I held her tiny hand, talking nonstop. “Lily, remember you wanted to go to Disney World? Mommy will take you.” “We’ll ride the biggest carousel.” “You’ll wear your Elsa dress, right?” “We’ll go to Universal too. See the Transformers. Your heroes, remember?” Her eyelashes fluttered. But her eyes didn’t open. My phone buzzed. Signal! I dialed Caleb’s number with trembling fingers. It rang for a long time before he answered. “Hello?” The background was quiet. He was home. “Caleb…” My voice was a raspy croak. “Lily is sick. It’s bad…” “Where are you?” His voice was terrifyingly calm. “On the way to the county hospital. Come quickly…” “Grace.” He interrupted me. “Didn’t Tessa pick you up?” “She didn’t come! She never came!” “Impossible. She just posted on Instagram that she was on her way.” I froze. I opened Instagram. Found Tessa. Latest post, ten minutes ago. A selfie. Background: highway. Caption: “On my way to pick up the sister-in-law~ Bro worries too much~” The geotag showed she was sixty miles away. In the city. She hadn’t moved. She was lying to Caleb. And lying to me. “See?” Caleb said. “Tessa will be there any minute. Just wait.” “We can’t wait! Lily is dying! Our daughter is dying, Caleb!” “Grace.” His voice dropped to zero. “It’s New Year’s. Don’t talk about death. It’s bad luck.” “Vanessa and Bella just got here. Mom is happy. Don’t ruin it.” “When Tessa gets you, take Lily to a clinic.” “Kids get fevers. It’s normal. She won’t die. Stop being dramatic.” Click. I stared at the phone, my blood running cold. The owner looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Husband?” I nodded. “Bastard,” he spat. “Hold on tight. I know a shortcut. We can’t let the kid die!” The car swerved onto a mountain road. The snow fell harder. Lily’s breathing was almost inaudible. I checked her pulse. It was weak, almost like a hallucination. “Lily… don’t scare Mommy…” “Mommy was wrong. Mommy shouldn’t have been so stupid in love!” “Mommy was wrong. I shouldn’t have married him…” “Mommy shouldn’t have let you suffer…” sobbing, I reached into my inner pocket and pulled out a button-sized metal device. My father gave it to me. He said: “Grace, the Thorne family values sons over daughters. If one day they mistreat you because Lily is a girl, press this.” I pressed it. No sound. But I knew the signal was sent. Father said his people would be there within three hours. But three hours… Could my Lily wait three hours? 4 We finally reached the county hospital. I rushed into the ER with Lily, my voice gone from screaming. The nurse took one look at Lily and yelled for a doctor. “Acute pneumonia! Heart rate dropping! Prep for resuscitation!” I was stopped outside the trauma room. Through the glass, I watched them intubate Lily, hook her up to monitors. That tiny body, lying on the bed, looking like she could disappear at any moment. I crouched in the corner, shaking uncontrollably. My phone rang. Caleb. I answered, saying nothing. “Grace, where are you?” He sounded annoyed. “Mom is waiting to eat.” I opened my mouth, no sound came out. “Speak!” “Hospital…” I squeezed out. “Lily is in resuscitation…” “What?” He paused. “Why are you at the hospital? Where’s Tessa?” “She didn’t come…” “Bullshit. She just texted me she got you.” I opened the family group chat. Twenty minutes ago, Tessa sent a message: “Bro, got Grace. Heading back now.” Attached was a blurry photo of a car interior. The back of a woman’s head in the passenger seat, wearing a jacket like mine. It was an old photo she took of me months ago. She was lying. Using prepared photos. “She’s lying,” I said. “Caleb, come to the hospital. Now.” “Grace.” Silence for a few seconds. “You just don’t want to come back for New Year’s, do you?” “Is it because Vanessa is here? You’re jealous?” “So you make up these lies?” I was stunned. “You think I’m lying?” “What else?” He sneered. “Why would Tessa lie to me?” “She’s my sister. What are you?” “A woman who served her purpose after popping out a girl.” I gripped the phone so hard my nails cut into my palm. “Caleb, if Lily dies today, I will never forgive you.” “Whatever,” he said. “Mom said Vanessa can still give me a son.” “If you can’t, then step aside.” The line went dead. I listened to the dial tone, sliding down the wall to the floor. The trauma room doors opened. A doctor walked out, mask pulled down. “Family?” I scrambled up. “I’m her mother.” The doctor looked at me, eyes full of pity. “We got her back, but…” “But what?” “Because of the prolonged hypoxia, there’s brain damage.” “It might affect her intelligence, or even… permanent paralysis.” My vision went black. I grabbed the wall to stay upright. “How… she’s so small…” “We did our best.” The doctor sighed. “Go handle the admission. The ICU costs won’t be low.” I stumbled to the billing window. Card declined. Insufficient funds. Caleb only gave me $500 a month for “allowance,” saying it was “enough for a girl.” I called him. “What now?” Noisy background. Glasses clinking. Laughter. “Lily needs surgery. Transfer me $10,000.” “$10,000?” His voice spiked. “Grace, do you think I’m an ATM?” “Caleb, she’s your daughter!” “Just a girl. Even if we cure her, she’s a losing investment.” “Are you going to transfer it or not?” “No,” he said. “Earn it yourself if you’re so capable.” “Oh, and Mom said don’t bother coming back. Going to the hospital on New Year’s is bad luck.” “After the holidays, we’ll divorce.” “The house is mine. You didn’t pay for it, so you get nothing.” “As for Lily…” He paused. “If you can’t afford her, send her to an orphanage.” “I don’t want a burden anyway.” I hung up, drained of all strength. I looked at the billing clerk. “Can we treat her first? I’ll pay back slowly…” “Sorry, hospital policy. Deposit first.” I walked out of the hospital into the snow. My phone vibrated. Ethan. “Grace! Where are you? Caleb said Tessa got you?” “Ethan.” My voice was so calm it scared me. “Do me a favor.” “Name it!” “If I die, help me take care of Lily.” “What are you talking about!” “I have no money. Lily is dying.” “Caleb doesn’t want her. I can’t save her.” “Send her to an orphanage. At least she’ll live.” “Grace, don’t do anything stupid! Where are you? I’m coming!” “No need.” I hung up and turned off the phone. I walked back to the ICU. Lily lay there, tubes everywhere. Pale face, looking like she was just sleeping. I held her hand. “Baby, Mommy is sorry.” “In your next life, don’t be my child.” “Find a good family. Be a princess everyone loves.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead. Then I turned and walked out. The hospital roof. The wind was howling. I stood on the edge, looking down. The people below looked like ants. One jump, and it would all be over. Lily would go to an orphanage. Caleb would marry Vanessa and have his son. Everyone would be happy. Except me and my daughter. I closed my eyes. Leaned forward. A hand grabbed my wrist. Yanked me back violently. I fell onto the concrete roof and looked up.

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On the second day of the Lunar New Year, my thirty-year-old cousin stomped on my limited edition figurine, crushing a $5,000 collectible into pieces. My Aunt Clara immediately shielded him behind her back, screeching at me with righteous indignation. “If you didn’t put your things away, they belong to Tyler now! Besides, aren’t you too old to be playing with toys?” My mother was shaking with anger. “How does something my daughter spent five grand on suddenly become yours?” Aunt Clara instantly sat on the floor, slapping her thighs and wailing. “God help me! I come with good intentions to visit my own brother for the holidays, and my sister-in-law tries to extort five thousand dollars from me!” I pulled back my mom, who was on the verge of tears, and smiled at them. “It’s fine, Mom. It’s just a pile of plastic.” “It’s rare for Aunt Clara and Tyler to visit. We should treat them to something better.” Aunt Clara’s wailing stopped abruptly. She scrambled up, suspicious at first, then sneered. “Now that sounds like human speech. A girl like you can’t compare to my precious Tyler.” An hour later, Aunt Clara was handed a $500,000 compensation bill by the police. I smiled even brighter. “That’s right. My cousin is precious indeed.” 1 “See? That’s what I call sensible.” Aunt Clara’s heavy hand slapped my shoulder. “You can tell she’s been in the big city. She knows her place.” After saying that, she turned and rolled her eyes at my mother. “Unlike some people who’ve never left this village their whole lives. Long hair, short wit. Only knows how to protect a money-losing daughter.” My mother’s lips trembled, unable to say a word. Her precious thirty-year-old son, Tyler, was picking his teeth on the sofa, mumbling in agreement. “Making a fuss over a broken toy.” Aunt Clara pointed at the shattered remains of the figurine on the floor and ordered me around. “Sophie, sweep up those broken plastics. Tyler can take them home.” I paused. “Take them home for what?” “They’re broken anyway. We can sell them for scrap and get a few bucks. Can’t waste them.” She spoke as if she was disposing of her own property. Tyler grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. He climbed off the sofa, walked over to the pile of fragments, and lifted his foot. Crunch. Crunch. He stomped down hard, grinding the figurine into dust. “Mom’s right. It’s trash anyway. Stomping it a few more times doesn’t matter.” I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. Aunt Clara’s gaze had already been drawn to the holiday gifts and red envelopes on the coffee table. She picked up the thickest envelope and tore it open right in front of us. Pulling out the cash, she licked her finger and counted the bills one by one. “One, two, three… only two thousand?” Her voice suddenly rose, sharp and piercing. “David! You’re dismissing your own sister with this little money?” My father, David, an honest man his whole life, rubbed his hands together, looking troubled. “Sis, the factory hasn’t been doing well this year, and Sophie’s mom’s medical bills were high…” “I don’t care about that!” Aunt Clara violently threw the money in her hand at my mother’s face. “If you don’t have money, don’t pretend to be fat! What’s the use of raising a daughter? In the end, she’s just a losing investment!” The red bills scattered, the sharp edge of one slicing across my mother’s cheek, leaving a thin red line. My mother gasped, tears bursting from her eyes. She didn’t dare make a sound, just silently crouched down to pick up the money one by one. Tyler swaggered over and stepped on my mother’s hand. “Oops, Auntie, sorry. Didn’t see you.” He apologized with his mouth, but his foot ground down hard. My mother sucked in a breath of cold air, her hand instantly swelling red. The fire in my chest reached its peak. I calmly pushed Tyler aside and forced a bright smile onto my face. “Aunt Clara, Tyler, it’s the New Year. No need to get angry over small things.” “I’ll take you somewhere nice to open your eyes. The new Grand Era Gallery downtown. I heard it’s full of treasures.” Aunt Clara looked me up and down suspiciously. “A place like that? Can a working girl like you even get in?” Her eyes were full of contempt. “You’re not working there as a cleaner, are you?” I didn’t deny it. I just took out my phone, tapped a few times, and sent a message. [Prepare for guests.] Then I looked up, my smile unchanged. “You’ll know when we get there, won’t you?” Seeing my confidence, the greed in Aunt Clara’s eyes overpowered her suspicion, and she finally nodded. On the way to the garage, she lectured my parents, demanding dinner be even more lavish than lunch. Once in my car, she showed her true colors, spitting a glob of phlegm onto the floor mat. Tyler, meanwhile, stuffed his tangerine peels one by one into the crevices of the leather seats. I watched the ugly behavior of this mother and son, the smile on my lips growing wider. The car stopped in front of the magnificent main entrance of the Grand Era Gallery. Aunt Clara and Tyler stared at the building, eyes wide. “My god, Sophie, this place is so grand!” Greed and calculation shone unhidden in Aunt Clara’s eyes. I knew. The fish had taken the bait. 2 The Grand Era Gallery was closed today. It was open only for my aunt and cousin. I led them into the empty exhibition hall. In the magnificent lobby, only the sound of our footsteps echoed monotonously. Aunt Clara touched this and looked at that, constantly clicking her tongue in amazement. “Wow, is this pillar gold? This floor tile is shiny enough to be a mirror!” Tyler was even worse. He wanted to touch everything he saw. Blocked by glass cases, he slapped them hard with his palms. Thud, thud. The dull sounds echoed. The head of security at the door saw me and immediately straightened up, about to approach. “Miss So…” I shot him a glance, and he shut his mouth instantly, pretending not to know me and standing far away. Aunt Clara saw this but completely misinterpreted it. She thought the security guard was scared off by her presence, and she stood even straighter. She turned to brag to my mother: “See? In places for rich people, even the watchdogs know who to respect.” My mother looked worried, tugging secretly at my sleeve. “Sophie, the things here are too expensive. Don’t let them touch anything. We can’t afford to pay if they break something.” I patted her hand reassuringly, then deliberately raised my voice. “Aunt Clara, Tyler, look all you want. Have fun.” Hearing this, Aunt Clara and Tyler’s eyes lit up instantly. “Really? You said it!” Aunt Clara looked skeptical. “Of course. Why would I lie to you?” I smiled with utmost sincerity. With my guarantee, they completely let loose. Aunt Clara pointed at a colorful Tang Dynasty ceramic horse in the center of the hall and insulted my mother. “Sister-in-law, look at this horse. Doesn’t it look like you?” My mother froze. “Working like a horse for David your whole life, exhausted, and can’t even birth a son. Useless.” The harsh words were like knives, turning my mother’s face pale instantly. Tyler wasn’t idle either. He set his sights on an ivory folding fan in a glass case, carved with exquisite landscapes. “I want that fan! Mom, I want to take it out and fan myself!” He whined like a three-year-old. I walked over slowly, looking regretful. “Tyler, this case is special bulletproof glass. It’s locked.” “Only the curator has the key. I can’t open it either.” “Bullshit!” Tyler cursed. “What crappy cabinet? Watch me kick it open!” He stepped back, gathered his strength, and kicked the display case hard. BANG! The loud noise hurt our eardrums. The case didn’t budge. Tyler clutched his foot, grimacing in pain. Aunt Clara didn’t stop him; instead, she clapped and cheered. “Good! Kick it hard! My Tyler is so strong, he’ll be a big boss for sure!” “Another kick! Shatter this stupid glass!” The phone in my pocket vibrated. It was a message from the monitoring room staff. [Ms. Sophie, should we call the police?] I lowered my eyes, tapping the screen lightly to reply. [Wait.] Thinking for a moment, I added another sentence. [The amount isn’t high enough yet.] My mother couldn’t stand it anymore and ran over to stop the crazy Tyler. “Tyler, stop kicking! That’s an artifact! You’ll go to jail if you break it!” Seeing this, Aunt Clara rushed forward and shoved my mother hard. “Get away! You jinx, daring to curse my son with jail?” Caught off guard, my mother slammed her back against a stone pillar with a muffled groan. She was in so much pain she couldn’t straighten up, tears circling in her eyes. Aunt Clara wasn’t done. She pointed at me as I rushed to help my mother and cursed loudly. “Losing investment! Just like your heirless mother!” I ignored her screaming. I took a bottle of water from my bag. Unscrewing the cap, I handed it to her with a smile. “Auntie, you must be thirsty after shouting so much.” “Drink some water to soothe your throat so you have the strength to keep playing.” Aunt Clara snatched the water and gulped down half the bottle. She wiped her mouth and threw the bottle on the floor in disgust. “What is this trash? Not even as good as tap water.” After walking around the hall, Aunt Clara’s thieving eyes started darting around. She walked to an inconspicuous corner. While I wasn’t looking, she stuffed a Qing Dynasty snuff bottle into her large cloth bag. All of this was recorded clearly by the surveillance cameras in the corner. Having stolen something, Aunt Clara grew bolder. She set her sights on me. Her gaze fell on the bag I was carrying. “Sophie, what good stuff do you have in there?” Saying that, she reached out to grab it. I didn’t resist, letting her snatch it away. Aunt Clara unzipped it and dumped the bag upside down. Everything inside clattered to the floor. Lipstick, powder compact, tissues, and my work ID and a personal seal. She picked up the seal, examining it, thinking it was gold or jade. “Ooh, what’s this? Gold?” Then, she picked up my work ID. When she read the words on it, she let out a shrill laugh. “Grand Era Gallery Art Restorer? Sophie, after all that, you just fix junk?” Tyler also came over and stepped on my lipstick, crushing it. He saw my phone on the floor and snatched it. “Unlock it! I want to play games!” he ordered. I looked at him coldly. “No.” “You wanna die!” Enraged by my attitude, Tyler smashed my phone hard onto the floor. The screen shattered. My mother looked at the fragments on the floor, heartbroken. “You child! That phone cost over a thousand dollars!” She tried to pick it up but was shoved away by Tyler. “Get lost, old hag!” My mother stumbled, her forehead hitting the sharp corner of a display case. A trail of blood ran down her temple. “Mom!” I rushed to support her. Aunt Clara looked at my mother’s bleeding forehead and spat on the ground. “Deserved it! Heirless woman, this is your karma!” My mother covered her wound, trembling, tears rolling down. She grabbed my arm, her voice pleading. “Sophie, let’s go home. Let’s go home, please? Mom begs you…” I held her cold hand tightly, my heart clenching. I looked at the wound on her forehead, at her despairing eyes, and a wave of fury hit me. I leaned into her ear, my voice so low only we could hear. “Mom, endure for five more minutes.” “Just five minutes.” “Today, we take back everything we’ve suffered in this life, with interest.” My mother froze, looking at me in confusion. I helped her stand, turned around, and put the docile smile back on my face. I led the still-shouting Aunt Clara and Tyler into the deepest part of the gallery. The Supreme Hall. In the center of the hall, displayed alone, was an ancient painting I had spent countless hours restoring—Spring Mountains. Aunt Clara looked disdainful. “Just this ragged painting? Colors are fading. Not even as nice as my wall calendar.” I didn’t argue. Instead, I lowered my voice and whispered mysteriously: “Auntie, Tyler, don’t underestimate this painting.” “I heard the curator say there’s a secret hidden inside.” Tyler was instantly interested. “What secret?” I leaned closer, voice even lower. “There are gold threads in the interlayer of the paper.” “Tear it open, and it’s full of gold.” As soon as the words left my mouth, greedy light exploded in Aunt Clara and Tyler’s eyes. “Gold? Are you serious?” Aunt Clara’s voice pitched up, sharp and ear-piercing. She stared dead at the Spring Mountains. Tyler pulled a switchblade from his pocket. Click. The blade flashed cold light. “Who cares if it’s real or fake? Cut it open and see!” He raised the knife and charged at the ancient painting. “No!” My mother screamed, trying to stop him. Too late. RIIIP! Almost simultaneously, piercing alarms rang through the entire gallery. Red warning lights flashed wildly, making Aunt Clara and Tyler’s faces look ghastly pale. “What’s happening? Why is it ringing?” Aunt Clara was scared out of her wits. Tyler panicked too, dropping the knife with a clatter. Just then, Aunt Clara snapped out of it. She turned and slapped me across the face with all her might. Smack! Pain exploded on my cheek, ears ringing. “Sophie! It was you, you little bitch! You told Tyler to cut it!” She shrieked at the rushing security guards. “Come look! This black-hearted girl wants to frame her own cousin!” Tyler immediately found his scapegoat and pointed at me along with his mother. “Yeah! It was her! Sophie told me to cut it however I wanted!” Security guards quickly surrounded us. Aunt Clara pulled at me, trying to push me forward to take the blame. “Grab her! She did it! It has nothing to do with us!” The gallery doors burst open. My father, David, ran in panting, followed by several police officers. Aunt Clara’s eyes lit up. She let go of me and threw herself at my father, pounding his chest and wailing. “David! Look at the good daughter you raised!” “What a vicious heart! She wants Tyler to go to jail!” She cried with tears and snot, her acting impeccable. “If you don’t make her kneel and apologize to my Tyler today, I’ll die right here in front of you!” Saying that, she actually grabbed the knife and held it to her own neck. My father, honest to a fault, turned pale with fright, his legs going weak. “Sis, don’t be impulsive, let’s talk…” The scene was chaotic to the extreme. Under everyone’s gaze, I took out a second phone. I pressed play. Clear video and audio flowed from the phone. Aunt Clara insulting my mother, Tyler smashing my phone. Their bandit-like behavior, and finally their false accusations… Everything was recorded. The noisy hall fell deathly silent. The knife at Aunt Clara’s neck clattered to the floor. I walked up to her step by step, watching her trembling body, and spoke clearly, word by word. “Auntie, I forgot to tell you.” “This Spring Mountains painting is a national treasure.” “Its base valuation is five hundred thousand dollars.” The leading officer walked up to me, expression serious. “Director Sophie, we came as soon as we got the call.” “Director… Sophie?” Aunt Clara pointed at me in disbelief, her voice cracking. “What did you call her? She fixes trash! A working girl!” I smiled faintly, pointing at the limp Tyler and Aunt Clara, and said to the police: “Officer, these two are suspected of intentionally damaging precious cultural relics, the amount is exceptionally large.” “Also suspected of theft, and intentional injury.” “Please, handle this with the utmost severity.” Aunt Clara lunged from the ground, pouncing at me to grab the phone. “You little bitch! Give me the evidence!” I dodged sideways, and she slammed heavily onto the floor. In her hand, she was still clutching the stolen snuff bottle. I looked down at her, my tone icy. “Cousin really is precious.” “One move of his hand, and it’s five hundred grand.” 3 Aunt Clara went completely mad, screaming hysterically. “I’m her aunt! She’s framing me! You can’t arrest me!” Her answer was a click. Cold handcuffs locked onto her wrists. “Sophie Summers, Curator of Grand Era Gallery, National Level 1 Art Restorer.” The officer verified my ID. Every word hammered into Aunt Clara’s heart. The color drained from her face, and she collapsed. The woman who was throwing a tantrum seconds ago was now muttering blankly. “Impossible… this is impossible…” “A little girl… how can she be the curator…” The shock of reality shattered her mind. Tyler was even more wretched. The moment the handcuffs clicked, a foul stench spread. He had peed his pants in fear. “Not me! It was Sophie! She told me to cut it!” He pointed at me, snot and tears streaming down his face. “Officer, my mom can testify! She instigated me!” This woke Aunt Clara up. She jerked her head up and crawled to my feet. “Sophie! My good niece! Auntie was wrong! Auntie isn’t human!” She cried while slapping her own face. “Let your cousin go! He’s still a child, he can’t go to jail!” “If he goes to jail, his life is ruined!” A security guard nearby couldn’t help but mutter, “Still a child? He’s twice my size.” Aunt Clara glared at him viciously, then immediately switched back to sobbing. “We’re family! Flesh and blood! How can you be so cruel!” Family? Laughable. When she pushed my mother down, causing her to bleed, did she mention family? When Tyler stepped on my mother’s hand, maliciously grinding it, did she think about flesh and blood? I coldly pushed her hand away and stepped back. “Auntie, it’s too late for that.” “From the moment you laid hands on my mother, there was nothing left between us but the law.” My voice was soft, but it stopped her crying instantly. She looked at me in disbelief, her eyes filled only with venom. “Sophie! You have a cruel heart! You’ll get your karma!” My father, David, finally recovered from his immense shock. He looked at his handcuffed sister and nephew. This honest man’s face was full of pain. His lips moved, wanting to beg for mercy. “Sophie…” I cut him off directly. “Dad, Mom’s head is still bleeding.” I helped up my silent, weeping mother. Without another glance at the mother and son, I walked past them. Behind me came Aunt Clara’s hysterical curses. “Sophie! You heirless wretch who deserves to die horribly! I won’t let you go even as a ghost!” I didn’t stop. A ghost? Fine. But before that, you have to survive hell on earth. Dad and I took Mom to the hospital. The doctor said the wound wasn’t deep, but she had a mild concussion and needed observation. After settling Mom in, Dad sat by the bed sighing, wanting to speak but afraid to. I knew he wanted to persuade me. Blood is thicker than water; forgive and forget. I didn’t give him the chance. A call came in. From the police station. They told me Aunt Clara was throwing a tantrum at the station. Insisting it was a family dispute and demanding a private settlement. She was even calling every relative to cry and complain. Exaggerating how her niece was heartless and cruel. Trying to send her own aunt to jail over a painting. As soon as the call ended, my phone started vibrating wildly. The family group chat exploded. Uncle Bob: [Sophie, your aunt says you’re suing her? It’s New Year’s, don’t make it so ugly.] Aunt Helen: [Sophie, Tyler is your cousin. He’s immature, just let it go.] [It’s just a painting, let them pay for it!] Uncle Mike was the most direct, tagging my dad: [David! Control your daughter! She’s shaming the Summers family name!] Dozens of people in the group. Not one asked about my mom’s injury. Not one cared about the truth. All lecturing me. These words were like dull knives cutting my father’s heart. His lips trembled, wanting to defend me, but he couldn’t type a single word. I remained expressionless. Unlocked my phone, found the full surveillance video. And threw it directly into the family group. The video wasn’t long, but it recorded all the ugliness. Aunt Clara’s tantrum, Tyler smashing the figurine. Aunt Clara throwing money to cut my mom’s face, Tyler stepping on my mom’s hand. How they smashed my gallery stuff, pushed my mom until she bled. Finally, how they cut the painting in front of me and framed me. In the video, the faces of that mother and son were nauseating. The group chat that was spamming messages a second ago went dead silent. For a full five minutes. Aunt Helen cautiously popped up: [This… how could Clara treat her sister-in-law like that?] Uncle Bob: [Tyler is an animal! Hitting an elder!] The wind changed instantly. The people who were advising me to be generous started condemning Aunt Clara and her son. Uncle Mike: [David, this is Clara’s fault. Do what needs to be done, we won’t interfere.] Aunt Helen: [Right, who needs relatives like that!] My father looked at the chat history and let out a long sigh. He never mentioned pleading for them again. Clara, Tyler. You will pay the price for what you’ve done. The next day, my legal team officially stepped in. Intentional destruction of property, theft, intentional injury. Multiple crimes punished together. Tyler faced prison time. Aunt Clara, as an accomplice and instigator, couldn’t escape either. The lawyers moved fast, applying for property preservation immediately. The court ruling came down quickly. Aunt Clara’s old apartment downtown? Seized. The wedding house she bought for Tyler? Seized. All bank accounts in her name? Frozen. When the news reached the detention center, Aunt Clara went crazy on the spot. She banged her head against the bars, screaming that the house was her life. Cursing me, her niece, for being heartless and trying to kill her. Tyler, hearing this in the interrogation room, completely collapsed. His arrogance was gone. Snot and tears covered his face as he slumped in the chair, shaking like a leaf. To reduce his sentence, he started frantically biting his own mother. “It was all my mom! She made me do it!” “She said Sophie’s family is rich, breaking things doesn’t matter!” “She said there was gold in the painting and told me to cut it open!” “Officer, I was the one tricked! I’m the victim!” The police relayed the confession verbatim to Aunt Clara. The mother and son who were usually so close turned against each other completely. Aunt Clara couldn’t believe it. Her precious son, whom she had pampered for thirty years, sold her out completely to save himself. She cursed in the detention center, calling Tyler an ingrate, a beast she raised in vain. Separated by cold walls, the mother and son tearing at each other became the biggest joke in the detention center. And I watched it all with cold eyes. My father held the materials submitted by the lawyer, looking at the astronomical compensation figure, his hands shaking. “Sophie, do we really… have to go this far?” He was soft-hearted after all. I didn’t speak. I just took out a thick stack of IOUs from my bag and slapped them in front of him. “Dad, look at these.” Each one was evidence of Aunt Clara borrowing money from us. Game console for Tyler, $500. Sponsorship fee for school, $8,000. Car for him, $15,000. Wedding house, $30,000. Totaling over $80,000. Item by item, page by page, all his soft-heartedness and indulgence. Aunt Clara never intended to pay back this money. Whenever my parents mentioned it, she would throw a tantrum, scolding my dad for not caring about his nephew, calling us rich and heartless. “Dad, have we helped her little over the years?” “She took our kindness for granted, our concessions for weakness.” “Today she dared to let Tyler step on Mom’s hand. Tomorrow she’ll dare to stab us with a knife.” “Why should we be soft-hearted to such an ungrateful vampire?” My words, like hammers, struck his heart. He looked at the yellowing IOUs, then turned to look at my mother on the hospital bed, still dizzy and nauseous from the concussion. The hesitation in his eyes was finally replaced by heavy guilt and anger. He picked up the pen and, on another document prepared by the lawyer, solemnly signed his name stroke by stroke. No more hesitation. It was a lawsuit to recover all debts with interest. Old debts should be settled with new hatreds. My mother stayed in the hospital for two weeks. During this time, Aunt Clara and Tyler were formally arrested and transferred to the prosecutor’s office. The relatives who had clamored in the group chat disappeared completely. No one dared to visit. Good. Saved my mom the trouble. The day she was discharged, she had lost weight, but her eyes were clearer than ever. She looked out the window for a long time, then suddenly spoke. “Sophie, I used to think taking a step back meant peace in the family.” “Now I understand. With some people, the more you retreat, the more they think you’re easy to bully.”

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Two years ago, my best friend’s catering business was on the brink of bankruptcy. I put my own job on the line to secure her an exclusive contract with my company’s cafeteria. That deal was worth over a million dollars a year. I thought she would be grateful for life. Until someone sent me a recording. It was her husband’s voice: “Her? She’s just skimming kickbacks from us. Don’t act like she’s some saint.” I listened to it and smiled. I didn’t explain. I didn’t confront them. Three days later, the contract was awarded to the restaurant she hated most. When she called me, sobbing and begging, I replied with just two words: “Reflect on it.” 1 On a sunny Friday afternoon, I felt a chill that reached my bones. An anonymous email sat in my inbox with a subject line of just two words: “Listen.” The attachment was an audio file. My finger hovered over the mouse, a sense of dread gripping my heart. I put on my headphones and clicked play. After a burst of background noise, a man’s rough, bragging voice pierced my eardrums. It was Greg, my best friend Chloe’s husband. “Audrey? Don’t let her ‘professional’ act fool you. She acts so high and mighty.” “She gave us the contract, sure, but you think she isn’t taking a cut?” “A million dollars in revenue a year, and she doesn’t want a penny? Is she running a charity? Do you believe that?” “It’s just that my Chloe is too honest and kind, willing to let her take advantage. Otherwise, why would such a good thing fall into her lap?” “She’s a butcher. She talks about helping, but she’s holding a knife, cutting our meat piece by piece.” “If it weren’t for the money she brings, who would want to kiss her ass?” The recording wasn’t long, three minutes and twenty seconds. I listened to it expressionlessly. Once, twice. Until that sharp, mean tone drove every word into my brain like steel needles. I took off my headphones. The office was so quiet I could hear the hum of the central AC. The cold air crept down my neck, chilling me to my feet. My mind involuntarily flashed back to two years ago. Chloe’s “Chloe’s Kitchen” had a broken capital chain. She couldn’t pay wages for months and was about to close down. She came to me with red eyes, a woman nearing thirty crying like a child in front of me. “Audrey, help me. This restaurant is my mom’s life’s work. I can’t let it die.” We grew up together. I couldn’t watch her fall. During that time, I withstood pressure from everyone in the company, slamming tables in board meetings with senior directors. I used my position as Administrative Director and my personal reputation as collateral to guarantee that “Chloe’s Kitchen” would provide top-tier catering service. In the end, I secured the exclusive contract for the company cafeteria for her. A steady flow of over a million dollars a year was enough to bring her back from the dead. The day we signed the contract, Chloe held my hand, crying harder than before. She said, “Audrey, I’ll remember this kindness for the rest of my life.” “From now on, my life is yours.” Greg, standing beside her, dropped his usual aloofness. He bowed and scraped, his face piled with a flattering smile. He served me tea and peeled fruit, calling me “Sister Audrey” sweeter than a real brother. “Sister Audrey, you are our family’s savior. We’ll work like horses for you.” The more sincere the smiles in my memory, the more vicious the voice in the recording. Two years. Just two years. The friendship I wholeheartedly protected was, in their eyes, just a transaction to brag about and smear. The help I thought was saving a life became the “kickbacks” of my insatiable greed in their mouths. A wave of physiological nausea rose from my stomach. I didn’t call to question or argue in anger as they might have imagined. Meaningless. Arguing with ungrateful wolves only dirties my mouth. I carefully saved the recording and the email into an encrypted folder. Then, I closed my email as if nothing had happened. I opened the company’s internal supplier database and typed three words. “Taste of Home.” The light from the computer screen reflected coldly on my gold-rimmed glasses. I calmly handled all the afternoon’s pending work, wrote my weekly report, and organized the agenda for next week’s meeting. At 5:30 PM, I clocked out on time. Walking out of the office building, the city lights were just coming on. But the warmth of the world could no longer reach my heart. Before the storm, it is always calm. 2 The next day was Saturday, and I didn’t have to go to the office. But my biological clock woke me up at 7 AM sharp. Outside, the sky was gray, threatening rain. I didn’t stay in bed. I got up, washed, and made myself a simple breakfast. My phone vibrated. A small internal company group chat was flashing. A few colleagues I was on good terms with were chatting. “Omg, did you guys eat the lunch yesterday? That braised pork was so greasy I almost threw up.” “More than greasy, I suspect the kitchen spilled the salt shaker. It was bitter.” “It’s been two months. The cafeteria food is getting worse. Too salty, too oily, bugs in the vegetables.” “Shh, keep it down. She’s Director Audrey’s relative after all. We shouldn’t say too much.” “What relative? I heard they’re best friends. Tight as thieves.” “But it should still be worth the money we pay, right? This quality is worse than cheap takeout.” The phrase “Director Audrey’s relative” pricked my eyes like a tiny thorn. I put down my sandwich, appetite gone. Because of Chloe, my professionalism had been discounted in the eyes of my colleagues. I became the person who practiced nepotism, sacrificing employee welfare to take care of “connections.” I opened Instagram and scrolled down out of habit. Greg’s profile picture appeared in the latest feed. A carefully edited selfie with the steering wheel of a brand-new black sports car in the background, the logo shining brightly. On his wrist was a new luxury watch. The caption read: “Wifey worked hard. All our efforts deserve the best rewards!” Between the lines, uncontrollable pride and showing off. I clicked on the picture and zoomed in. Blinding. I laughed coldly. So “efforts” meant badmouthing me behind my back, painting me as a greedy vampire? It meant lowering the employee food standards again and again, cutting costs to fund your luxury life? Under the post, Chloe’s comment was first. A heart emoji, followed by: “Hubby is the best!” How loving. How harmonious. My finger unconsciously scrolled up, looking through their posts from the last two years. From cautious beginnings to reckless extravagance. New car today, new house tomorrow, Europe trip the day after. Greg’s feed was a live record of a nouveau riche lifestyle. And me? I looked down at my phone, used for almost three years, scratches on the edges. For two years, to help their restaurant balance the books and get on track, I even proactively shortened their settlement period from quarterly to monthly. This meant so much more communication and paperwork for me, so many more rounds with Finance. Did they forget all this? No, they didn’t forget. They just felt it was all deserved. That I should do it. The fire suppressed in my chest finally found an outlet and burned fiercely. I’m not running a charity. My kindness and friendship are not cheap goods for them to squander and trample on. I exited Instagram and found a number in my contacts I rarely contacted. The note said “Taste of Home – Leo.” I dialed his number. “Hello?” A capable, steady male voice came from the other end. “Mr. Leo, hello. This is Audrey Lin.” My voice was calm, without a ripple. “I’d like to meet you to discuss the cafeteria supplier contract for our company. Do you have time tomorrow?” 3 I met Leo at a downtown coffee shop. He arrived before me. When I entered, he was sitting by the window with a laptop, typing rapidly. He wore a well-fitted dark gray suit, hair combed meticulously, radiating professionalism. Seeing me, he immediately closed his laptop, stood up, and extended his hand. “Director Lin, pleasure.” His hand was warm and firm, his gaze open and bright. “Mr. Leo, likewise.” We sat opposite each other, skipping the small talk. Leo took a thick stack of documents from his briefcase and pushed them to me. “Director Lin, this is our initial catering proposal and quote tailored for your company.” I flipped through it. The plan was incredibly detailed, covering nutritional balance, a seven-day non-repeating menu, and custom meals for holidays. Every ingredient source and inspection report was attached at the back. Most importantly, his quote, while guaranteeing higher quality, was actually 10% cheaper than Chloe’s “Chloe’s Kitchen.” I looked up at him. Leo met my gaze frankly. “Director Lin, I won’t hide it from you. I have a bit of a history with Greg from Chloe’s Kitchen.” He didn’t embellish, just stated facts calmly. “My previous head chef was poached by him with triple the salary, taking several of our signature recipes.” “After that, he went around saying Taste of Home’s food wasn’t fresh and hygiene wasn’t up to standard.” I listened quietly without interrupting. I had heard rumors of these old grudges in the catering world, but hearing it from the person involved felt different. There was no resentment on Leo’s face, only a businessman’s calm and honesty. “So, if your company is willing to give me this chance,” he paused, his tone firm, “I am willing to offer another two percent discount on this basis. Furthermore, I can personally sign an unlimited joint liability food safety guarantee with the company.” “I need this order not just for profit, but to prove that Taste of Home is better than them.” His eyes shone with an unconquerable, vigorous ambition. This contrasted sharply with Chloe’s helpless cowardice and Greg’s narrow vanity. I appreciated him. A reliable adult, a trustworthy partner, should look like this. “Mr. Leo.” I closed the proposal, leaning forward slightly to look into his eyes. “Your professionalism and honesty have moved me.” “No need for the extra discount. We’ll go with this quote.” “I have only one request. From the first day of cooperation, I want my colleagues to eat the best work meals in the city.” Leo’s eyes lit up instantly. He nodded heavily: “Director Lin, rest assured. I guarantee it with my reputation.” We drafted a letter of intent on the spot. Shaking hands goodbye, Leo said to me: “Director Lin, thank you.” I smiled: “You should thank your own professionalism.” Returning to the empty office, I sat at my desk and opened my computer. First, I drafted a formal report on terminating the catering service cooperation with “Chloe’s Kitchen.” In the report, I included no personal emotions. Only facts. I attached screenshots and negative data statistics from the internal forum and anonymous feedback channels regarding poor food quality and hygiene concerns over the past three months. Employee satisfaction had dropped from 90% two years ago to less than 30% now. Shocking. Next, I drafted a second report on the public tender and introduction of the new supplier “Taste of Home.” In the proposal, I made a clear comparison table between Leo’s plan and quote versus “Chloe’s Kitchen’s” current service and price. The winner was obvious at a glance. All documents were ready. I saved them on the desktop, named “Final Plan.” The sky outside darkened. Looking at the cold text on the screen, my heart was calm. Everything was ready. Tomorrow would be an interesting day. 4 Monday, 9:00 AM. The internal bulletin board and all employees’ inboxes received a notification from the Administration Department simultaneously. “Notice Regarding the Change of Cafeteria Catering Service Supplier”. Black and white, official wording, but it was like a depth charge dropped into a calm lake. The whole company boiled over. Break rooms, office areas, department group chats were instantly flooded with cheers of “Long live,” “Finally changed,” and “Admin is wise.” A colleague even posted a screenshot of the notice on social media with the caption: “Happiest thing today: finally don’t have to eat pig swill anymore!” 10:30 AM. The delivery van from “Chloe’s Kitchen” drove slowly downstairs as usual. Then, it was stopped by security. “Sorry, sir. Starting today, our company has changed cafeteria suppliers. Your vehicle cannot enter the garage.” The driver, Chloe’s cousin, was dumbfounded. He immediately called Chloe. When Chloe got the call, she probably thought it was a mistake. She hung up and started calling me frantically. Once, twice, three times. Watching the name “Chloe” flashing on my screen, I muted it and tossed the phone to the corner of my desk. When calls didn’t work, she started texting. “Audrey, what’s going on? Security won’t let our car in.” “Are you joking? Tell them to let us in.” “Audrey? Answer me!” I ignored her. At this moment, I was in the conference room with Leo and the legal department, signing the formal contract. Leo had changed into a more formal dark suit, excitement unhidden in his eyes. He signed his name, then we exchanged contracts and shook hands. “Pleasure working with you.” “Pleasure.” On the other side, Chloe, receiving no reply, was going crazy. She abandoned her car on the roadside and rushed into our company lobby like a headless fly. “I’m looking for Audrey Lin! I’m your supplier!” she shouted at the reception. My secretary had received my instructions and politely but firmly stopped her. “Ms. Chen, sorry, Director Lin is in a meeting. You cannot go up without an appointment.” Blocked outside the turnstiles, she sweated profusely, spinning in circles. The embarrassment of her predicament turned her decent face liver-red. She finally gave up, took out her phone, and sent me a long text message. Her tone shifted from questioning to panic-stricken begging. “Audrey, what do you mean? Our friendship of so many years, how can you cut it off just like that? Without even a heads-up?” “Did I do something wrong? Tell me, I’ll change, okay?” “Pick up the phone! Say something! If you do this, my restaurant is finished!” I finished signing, saw Leo off, and returned to my office. Picking up my phone, I saw the text full of breakdown. I looked at it calmly, then typed four words. “Reflect on yourself.” Sent. At the same time, Greg’s social media exploded. He probably saw the celebratory screenshots from my colleagues or got a call from Chloe. He sent a string of question marks in our mutual friend group. “@Audrey, what’s the meaning of this?” No one answered him. Minutes later, he posted a new status, naming no names, but obvious to everyone. “Some people are truly ungrateful wolves. Give them a little sunshine and they think they’re the sun. Who do they think they are!” The picture was a selfie of him rolling his eyes. Looking at that twisted, resentful face, I only found it laughable. The show had just begun.

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Of all the second-generation billionaires in my circle, I chose the only doctor for our arranged marriage. Only after we were married did I realize—he’s exactly like the doctor best friend in every romance novel who gets dragged out of bed at 3 AM to treat the female lead! After witnessing this happen multiple times, I decided to scrap my plan of trying to make this marriage work romantically. I mean, seriously. Who wants to compete with a billionaire’s love interest? But I never expected one thing: he can read my mind. For people like us, we always knew an arranged marriage was coming. It’s fine, really. We enjoy so many privileges; it’s only fair we pay a price. I was lucky enough to choose my own partner—from a pool of eligible heirs, of course. Honestly, it didn’t matter who it was. Everyone knows these marriages are just for show, a way to cement business deals between families. But since I had a choice, I wanted someone… normal. According to my intel: One guy is still obsessed with his ex who’s studying abroad. Hard pass. Another is playing some “cat and mouse” game with his kept woman. Pass. And a third just started sponsoring a D-list actress. Definitely pass. After picking through the lot, I landed on Caleb Vance. The few memories I had of him were of a refined, elegant man. His name sounds like a classic CEO, but he’s actually the only one in the group who isn’t. Caleb is a doctor. A genuine academic who got into the top medical school in the country on his own merit, completing his MD and PhD in one go. He fits the image perfectly: gentle, polite, always looking clean and sophisticated. Every time I see him, he’s wearing white or light-colored suits. With his doctor filter, he almost seems saintly. Our engagement went smoothly. Our parents hit it off immediately. I heard Caleb agreed without hesitation. So, in just a month, I went from single since birth to a married woman. From the day of the wedding, I moved into the house he bought for us. The beige interior suited him perfectly. That day, after giving me a tour, Caleb led me to the master bedroom. His voice was warm and gentle: “Even though this is an arranged marriage, I don’t want it to be just for show. I hope we can take things slow, get to know each other, and build a real relationship.” He pointed to the guest room across the hall. “I’ll sleep there. Don’t be nervous. I won’t force anything until we’re both ready.” I went into the master bedroom and closed the door. Honestly, he was better than I expected. I always assumed that even without scandals, his friends were all typical rich playboys with their “pets.” Birds of a feather, right? Even though he seemed different, I didn’t have high hopes. I just wanted a peaceful marriage. As long as no one caused trouble in front of me, I wouldn’t care what he did outside. Two months passed in a blink. One night, after a shower, I lay in bed staring at the scandalously skimpy nightgown beside me. My heart started racing. Look, Caleb might be a gentleman with no impure thoughts. But I am not! I’ve been single for over twenty years and barely held a man’s hand, but my mind is definitely rated R. With a legitimate, handsome husband right here, why should I live like a nun? Plus, over the last two months, he’s come home at 6 PM every day. We’ve had cozy dinners, gone shopping on weekends, and he’s even waited patiently while I got my nails and hair done. We’ve binged cheesy soap operas on the couch together. I have to admit, I’m kind of falling for him. One day, I was out shopping with friends and realized it was 5:30 PM. My first thought was, I need to go home. I paused, realizing I truly saw that house as my home. I felt a sense of belonging I hadn’t expected. Seeing the chaos in our circle—including my own parents’ dramatic affairs and illegitimate children popping up—I thought I had no hope for love or family. But the quiet consistency of our life was powerful. Thinking about Caleb’s character, I felt a surge of confidence. I wanted to gamble on this. Maybe trusting someone, trusting in love, could actually work out? Caleb’s parents are one of the few happily married couples in our circle. Surely, the son they raised is trustworthy… right? Even if it’s a trap, maybe it’s one everyone has to walk into eventually. I put on the black lace nightgown, tiptoed to Caleb’s door, struck a pose I learned online, and knocked lightly. The door opened. Caleb froze. He looked left and right, clearly searching for something to cover me with, but failed. Our eyes met. His gaze darkened. Finally, his voice raspy, he asked, “Chloe, are you sure?” With my nod, he swept me up and carried me to the bed. The room was dim, lit only by a warm bedside lamp. The weight of another person pressed down on me. His warmth on my face, shoulders, back, and waist… his hands, his kisses… everywhere he touched burned. I felt like I was melting. My brain turned to mush. I was pliable as water under him. Turning my head, I saw the pristine white sheets and had the inappropriate thought: If we make a mess, it’ll be really obvious. But I didn’t get to find out. Just as I had turned into a puddle and Caleb was about to take off his shirt, his phone rang. Caleb took a few deep breaths, exhaling hot air. He propped himself up on one arm and grabbed the phone from the nightstand. “Dr. Vance, Mr. Sterling drank too much and is in severe pain. Can you come over?” The anxious male voice on the other end sounded familiar. I think I’d heard him with one of the other CEOs. Caleb paused. When he spoke, his voice was incredibly hoarse. “I know. I’ll be there.” I snapped out of my haze. I grabbed his half-removed shirt. “Don’t go!” Caleb met my eyes. He lowered his head, gently biting my lip, and coaxed, “Be good. I need to check on him.” Watching him get dressed, anger flared in my chest. I stared at his back, cursing internally: Be good? I’ll go check? Ha! Who knows if you’re checking on a bro or a babe. He froze, stuttering in his movements, and turned to look at me with a complicated expression. “What’s wrong?” I asked. He shook his head and continued dressing. I kept up my internal monologue: Go ahead, go. Who can stop you, Mr. Saint? Ambulances are useless, hospitals are useless. You must have magic powers if only you can save him… I felt better after venting silently. But as he left, I saw him stumble. Must have been my imagination. After all, he’s famous for being unflappable. Before closing the door, he said, “Chloe, I’ll be back soon.” I don’t know when I fell asleep, but he hadn’t returned. When I woke up, he was sleeping beside me, back in his pajamas from last night. Seeing him just made me angrier. Seriously? You can just leave in the middle of that? Even when he reached over me for the phone, I could feel the heat radiating off him. I angrily chewed on my toast. Caleb walked out. Seeing my face, he chuckled softly. He hugged me from behind and whispered in my ear, “Sorry. Sterling is in a bad spot. He had gastric bleeding recently, so I was worried.” It happened. I didn’t want to dwell on it. But after he left for work, I watched a drama on TV. The plot involved a CEO chasing his runaway lover. The female lead got hurt, and the CEO called his doctor friend to treat her. It hit me like a bolt of lightning. The plots of all those romance novels I’d read flooded my brain. Wait. Isn’t Caleb exactly like that poor doctor friend who always gets called in the middle of the night? We have plenty of CEOs around us. Gastric bleeding? Check. Doctor friend? Check. Midnight call? Check. I imagined Caleb being summoned by this CEO today, that CEO tomorrow… a pitiful tool, running around like a tired puppy. I couldn’t help but laugh. That night, I didn’t make a move. But Caleb knocked on my door. His hair was styled, and he smelled of cologne. He looked at me with smiling eyes. “Can you take me in tonight?” I raised an eyebrow. “No one needs a checkup tonight?” He didn’t speak. He cupped my face and kissed me, gentle and teasing. With the previous night’s experience, things went smoother. Until he took off his shirt. We both froze, terrified the phone would ring. We looked at the phone, then at each other, and almost burst out laughing. He leaned in close, his voice thick with amusement, hot breath tickling my ear. “I’m not leaving tonight.” My face burned. Jeez, making it sound like I’m the desperate one. That night taught me a lesson: don’t judge a book by its cover. Caleb is a good person. Objectively speaking. Professionally, he’s dedicated to curing incurable diseases. Personally, he has a great temper, is filial to his parents, loyal to his friends, and takes excellent care of me. However, being too good has its downsides. It’s not the first time. Just as we’re about to celebrate an anniversary or go on a trip, a friend calls. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s always at the worst time. The assistants’ voices on the phone are always trembling and pitiful. Sometimes a CEO has gastric bleeding from drinking. Sometimes a CEO’s “forced love” antics have left someone physically collapsed. What can I do? They make it sound life-threatening. I can’t stop him. Though I’m speechless. Is calling an ambulance that hard? Does it have to be Caleb? I laughed thinking he was a tool in a novel. But this is reality. Not calling the police or going to a hospital? Even though he rushes back every time, the mood is ruined. Today is our first wedding anniversary. Last night, I specifically told Caleb I didn’t want any interruptions today. His lab has made progress recently, so he’s been busy. We went grocery shopping together, a rare treat. On my birthday, Caleb surprised me by cooking. It was amazing—restaurant quality, and all my favorite dishes. When we first confessed our feelings, we made a big deal out of every holiday. But for this anniversary, we just wanted to shop and cook a quiet dinner together. Watching Caleb busy in the kitchen, I felt dazed. A year ago, I never imagined my married life would be like this. Not explosive, but warm. I walked over and hugged his waist from behind, rubbing my face against his back. He chuckled and was about to speak. The phone rang. I pressed my lips together. I have PTSD from his ringtone now. I listened against his back. “Dr. Vance, please come quickly…” Rage flared. I snatched the phone. “Can you not call an ambulance? Can you not drive him to the hospital yourself?” The voice on the other end choked. I hung up, still fuming. “That was Sterling’s assistant, wasn’t it? I recognize his voice. You really believe that playboy is drinking himself to death over a woman?!” Caleb frowned. “I heard he really cares about someone recently…” “He’s cared about a busload of people over the years!” I gritted my teeth. “If you go, we’re done. Your bros are clearly more important, so go live with them.” He went anyway. Even though he coaxed me gently, “I’ll just take a look. I’ll be back before you finish one episode, okay?” I was disappointed. My heart sank. Compared to the tear-jerking, life-or-death love stories of others, our journey was too smooth, too plain. My only complaint was wishing these grown-ass CEOs would grow up. Stop with the “kidnapping” and “fatal illness” tropes that drag Caleb into their mess. But I realized something. Even if my “rivals” are these unexpected men, Caleb’s attitude matters. I’ve heard rumors. Some of these illnesses are fake. Tricks to win sympathy. Tricks to fool the board. They’re lies. I can tell some of them apart now. I don’t believe Caleb can’t. I’m not smart, and I hate trouble. My solution to difficult things is usually acceptance or avoidance.

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My husband makes $280,000 a year. He sends every single cent to his mother. Our joint account has exactly $1.25 left in it. I used that $1.25 to buy a cheap bagel, ate it calmly, and accepted a six-month work assignment in Berlin. Before boarding the plane, I turned off my phone. Four days later, in my hotel room in Germany, I turned it back on to find 79 missed calls and 126 text messages. 01 The supermarket AC was blasting, raising goosebumps on my bare arms. At the checkout, the card reader let out a sharp, piercing beep. For the first time, the usually expressionless cashier looked at me with impatient disdain. “Ma’am, insufficient funds.” She slid my card back across the counter, tapping her knuckles on the surface. I took the card numbly, ignoring the stares from the line forming behind me. I opened my banking app, unlocked it with my fingerprint. The joint account I shared with Caleb, under his name. The balance was a bright red, bone-chilling number. $1.25. One dollar and twenty-five cents. I stared at that number for a full thirty seconds. My heart didn’t ache with the familiar pain, nor did I feel a surge of rage. There was only a dead silence. It turns out when disappointment and humiliation reach their peak, you feel nothing at all. I muttered an apology to the cashier, pushed the half-empty cart aside, and walked out of the supermarket under the silent gaze of the crowd. The evening sun stretched my shadow long, like a silent struggle. I took out my phone and scanned a QR code at a street vendor, using the last few dollars in my digital wallet. “One bagel, please.” With the warm bagel in hand, I sat on a roadside bench, chewing mechanically. It smelled good, but I couldn’t taste a thing. For three years, Caleb’s $280,000 annual salary had passed through our lives like a seasonal wind, never stopping. Every paycheck, on the dot, was transferred in full to his mother, Mrs. Vance, back in his hometown. His excuse? “Mom is great at investing. We young people spend too freely. She’s saving it for us.” This joint card with $1.25 was all he left for me, for our “home.” All our household expenses—mortgage, car payments, utilities, social obligations—came from my paycheck. Caleb, a finance bro envied by everyone, was purely a consumer in this marriage. And I, a successful architect earning a decent salary myself, had become a free live-in maid who paid for everything. I swallowed the last bite of the bagel, feeling a burn in my stomach. I opened my work email. An hour ago, HR Director Mr. King had sent an offer for an overseas assignment. A major project in Frankfurt, Germany. Six months. I had previously declined, citing family reasons. Now, I typed a reply. “Mr. King, I accept the assignment. I can leave for Germany immediately.” Click. Send. The light from the screen reflected in my hollow eyes. My numb heart finally beat with a cold, resolute rhythm. When I got home, the entryway light was off. Caleb was sunk into the sofa, the light from his phone illuminating his handsome but selfish face. Over the sound of his mobile game, he bragged triumphantly. “Babe, you’re back? I just sent Mom another $8,000. She wanted that new imported massage chair for her back.” He didn’t even look up. I put down my bag and stood in front of him. “As long as Mom’s happy,” my voice was so calm it didn’t sound like me. He finally spared me a glance, frowning with entitled complaint. “Why are you so late? You haven’t made dinner yet? I’m starving.” I suddenly smiled. A very faint, light smile. “I’m too tired today. Order takeout.” Without waiting for his reaction, I walked into the bedroom and ordered myself a salad using my own money. He probably found my behavior odd, but the game was more important. He muttered “weirdo” and went back to playing. That night, he slept soundly, snoring with satisfaction. I didn’t sleep. I opened the closet and started packing. My ID, certificates, professional books, and the laptop storing all my project files. I didn’t have many clothes. In recent years, I barely bought anything for myself. The closet was filled with his expensive suits and shirts. Ironically, every single one was bought with my card. I looked at the empty corner of the closet. That was the “me” swallowed up by this marriage. I opened my phone and methodically unlinked every automatic payment tied to my salary card. The $2,500 mortgage. The $1,000 car note. The quarterly HOA fees. Utilities. And the secondary credit card with a $30,000 limit I gave him. I switched every single payment source to that joint card with $1.25 left on it. By the time I finished, dawn was breaking. I dragged my small suitcase out, not looking back at the man or the so-called home. In the VIP lounge at the airport, I drank an iced Americano. The bitter liquid cleared my mind like never before. Before boarding, I took a photo of the departure board and posted it to my private feed, visible only to myself. “Goodbye, old life.” Then, I turned off my phone. I knew a massive storm was about to erupt behind me. And I would be thousands of miles away, watching the fire from across the ocean. This time, I was no longer the docile wife, Maya. I was the executioner. There was no sadness in my heart, only a thrilling, cold anticipation of revenge. 02 Frankfurt, Germany. Sunlight streamed through the hotel’s floor-to-ceiling windows, blindingly bright. The air was free of oppression and arguments, smelling only of grass and coffee. Like a dying plant transplanted into rich soil, I greedily inhaled the air of freedom. My phone had been off for four days. For four days, I threw myself into work—meetings with German colleagues, site visits, revising blueprints. My professional skills, worn down by marital trivialities, shone brightly again. The long-lost satisfaction of being respected made me almost forget the humiliation of that $1.25. On the evening of the fourth day, I returned to the hotel. After a shower, I put on a robe and poured a glass of red wine. It was time. I sat on the sofa, connected to the hotel WiFi, and turned on my phone. The moment the screen lit up, it was like a bomb going off. Notification sounds, missed call alerts, text pings… a cacophony of noise flooded in for nearly a minute. The phone grew hot from processing the backlog. The screen was covered in red badges. 79 missed calls. All from “Husband – Caleb”. 126 messages. All from him. I opened the chat and started from the beginning. These messages documented the complete breakdown of an adult baby, from self-righteousness to total collapse. Day 1, 9:00 PM: “Babe, why is your phone off? You’re not answering.” “I’m at dinner with clients. Transfer the money for the bill, I forgot my card.” “Hello? I’m waiting! The clients are watching, it’s embarrassing!” Day 2, 10:00 AM: “Maya, what is the meaning of this??? Playing hide and seek?” “The bank texted me saying the car payment failed! What’s going on? Is something wrong with your card?” “Still off? If you don’t reply, I’m calling your office!” “I have zero dollars on me. I can’t even eat lunch!” Day 3, 3:00 PM: “Property management just came knocking! They said they’ll cut the water and elevator access if we don’t pay!” “The water is cut! I told you to renew it early!” “Where the hell are you?! Did you run off with the money? Maya, I’m warning you, don’t play games!” Day 4, 4:00 AM: “Wifey, I was wrong.” “I was really wrong. Please turn on your phone. Please reply.” “I can’t find you, I’m going crazy.” “There’s no money for groceries, I can’t order takeout. I haven’t eaten properly in two days. My stomach hurts.” “Please come back, I can’t live without you.” I scrolled expressionlessly to the last one. “Wifey, I’m sorry, please come back. We have no money to cook.” Reading these 126 messages, I felt nothing but a grim amusement. A man making $280,000 a year, a financial elite who dictated markets, couldn’t even feed himself without me. He wasn’t a husband; he was a giant infant I was supporting. Our marriage wasn’t a home; it was a private charity I ran for him. I didn’t reply to any of his tearful confessions. I opened my banking app and found that nearly forgotten joint card. I transferred $75 from my personal account to it. In the transaction note, I typed: “For the next six months, I will transfer $75 on the 1st of each month. Mr. Caleb, as an adult, please learn budget management.” Transfer successful. I took a screenshot but didn’t send it. That screenshot was for me. A tombstone for my three years of stupidity. Then, I opened his contact, clicked delete. “Block this contact?” Yes. Confirm. Blacklisted. The world was instantly quiet. 03 Seventy-five dollars. To a man used to spending freely, it wasn’t help; it was an insult. Caleb’s madness came faster than I expected. Less than ten minutes after blocking him, a strange number called. I answered. It was Caleb, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. “Maya! What is the meaning of this? $75? Am I a beggar to you?” “Are you trying to starve me? Let me tell you, don’t think you’re safe just because you’re abroad!” Before I could speak, someone else snatched the phone. It was Mrs. Vance. Her voice was shriller, filled with offended anger and vicious insults. “Maya, you ungrateful wretch! My son works hard to make all that money, and you spend it all! Now you think you’re big enough to run away?” “Let me tell you, my son’s money is my money! It has nothing to do with you! You won’t get a dime!” “Everything you eat, wear, and live in belongs to my son! Get your ass back here and serve him, or you’ll regret it!” I listened quietly to her filth, as if listening to static. For three years, I’d heard variations of this countless times. Before, I felt pain, grievance. I argued. Now, only numbness and disgust. When she paused to catch her breath, I spoke slowly. My voice was light but icy. “Oh, done?” “Well, I wish you and your precious son a happy life.” I hung up. Then blocked the number. I knew his relatives would bombard me next. So I turned on the “Block Unknown Callers” feature. Done. I leaned back on the sofa, watching the Frankfurt night. The past played like a silent black and white movie in my mind. A year ago, my dad had a heart attack back home. He needed immediate bypass surgery. It cost $15,000. My money was tied up in a short-term investment I couldn’t liquidate immediately. I called Caleb, crying. “Caleb… Dad needs surgery. I need $15,000. Can you ask Mom to withdraw some money?” Silence. Then, in his gentle but firm voice: “Babe, don’t panic. We are family.” “But the money is in a long-term CD with Mom. Withdrawing early means losing interest. Can’t you think of another way?” I begged him like a drowning person. “It’s a matter of life and death! Who cares about interest? My dad is waiting to be saved!” He still calculated. “It’s not just interest, it’s locked. Why don’t you ask your friends or colleagues?” I hung up, cold all over. Just the day before, I heard him planning a Maldives trip for his parents. Budget: $15,000. $15,000 for a vacation was available instantly. $15,000 to save my dad was “locked up.” That moment, my love died. I didn’t beg again. I called my old college professor. He transferred the money in thirty minutes. My dad’s surgery was successful. From the moment my dad left the OR, my heart turned to stone. Caleb was no longer family. He was a business partner. A bad one, waiting to be liquidated. Since then, I started preparing for my “rebirth.” I opened a new bank account for my salary. I collected evidence. Screenshots of his salary deposits and immediate transfers to Mrs. Vance. Records of my payments for the mortgage, car, groceries—everything. I scanned and uploaded everything to an encrypted cloud drive. Folder name: Project Rebirth. Mrs. Vance’s screaming call was just the final signal to press “Execute.” 04 Total silence panicked them. When they realized they couldn’t reach me, they went low. Caleb started spreading rumors in our mutual friend groups. “Wife’s been gone for days, can’t reach her. Worried.” “Sigh, women these days. Hearts turn wild. Who knows what she’s doing abroad.” His scumbag friends chimed in, hinting I ran off with money or a sugar daddy. Mrs. Vance took the war to my parents. She sat in the courtyard of their apartment complex, crying to neighbors about her “unfaithful” and “unfilial” daughter-in-law. She banged on my parents’ door, cursing them for raising an ungrateful wolf. My mom shook with anger. My dad’s blood pressure spiked. My mom called me, weeping. “Maya, where are you? Come back! Caleb’s mom is here causing a scene. Your dad can’t take it! Just… just apologize and come back, please?” Hearing my mom’s plea, my rage exploded. But my voice was calmer than ever. “Mom, don’t be afraid. Lock the door. Take care of Dad. Leave the rest to me.” I hung up and contacted a top divorce lawyer, Ms. Lee, online. We spoke for two hours. I gave her everything. Ms. Lee said one thing: “Ms. Maya, rest assured. We will win.” The next day. Two identical lawyer’s letters were express mailed. One to Caleb’s top-tier investment firm. One to Mrs. Vance’s home. The content was brief but lethal. Demand Caleb and Mrs. Vance cease all defamation and harassment immediately, or face legal action. Demand Mrs. Vance return the marital assets illegally transferred by Caleb within three days. Total: $840,000 ($280k x 3 years). With detailed legal citations. Attached was a partial evidence list. Title in bold: “Mr. Caleb Vance 2021-2023 Salary Income and Fund Flow (Partial)”. Caleb received it at work. When the receptionist handed him the thick envelope with the law firm logo, colleagues stared. When he saw the $840,000 demand, he froze. Rumor has it even the CEO was alerted. Mrs. Vance received hers in front of her neighbors. Seeing “Illegal Transfer of Assets,” her arrogant face turned ghost white. The final straw for Caleb was a message I sent him. My first proactive contact since blocking him. No text. Just a screenshot. A screenshot of my “Project Rebirth” cloud folder. Subfolders listed clearly: “2021 Bank Statement Analysis” “2022 Bank Statement Analysis” “Household Expenses (Paid by Maya)” “Caleb Asset Risk Assessment” “Legal Analysis on Malicious Transfer of Marital Assets” Caleb was stunned. He never imagined his obedient wife had been weaving a net this tight, this cold, this deadly. He finally realized this wasn’t a domestic squabble. It was a war he had no chance of winning. 05 The lawyer’s letter hit them like a precision airstrike. After the panic, they played the pity card. Caleb sent a photo. Mrs. Vance in a hospital gown, looking jaundiced, oxygen tubes in her nose. “Wifey, Mom had a stroke because of your letter. The doctor says it’s bad.” “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have given her the money. I shouldn’t have ignored you.” “Come back, okay? See her… it might be the last time.” Looking at the staged photo, I sneered. A woman with the energy to smash my parents’ door gets a stroke from a letter? I asked a doctor friend back home to “visit” her. Half an hour later, I got a video. Mrs. Vance was in a luxury private suite. Dying? Hardly. She was propped up, peeling an imported apple, loudly commanding Caleb. “Massage my legs! Harder!” “Get me water! Warm!” Caleb, like a scolded schoolboy, scurried around serving her. So, not critical condition. Just a spa day. I saved the video as “Fraud Evidence 01” and uploaded it to the cloud. This farce didn’t affect my life in Germany. My work was going great. My project lead, Mr. Gu, a Chinese-German man, praised my efficiency. Mr. Gu was around forty, rigorous, upright, with healthy boundaries. He was like sunlight piercing my gloom. At a team dinner, Mr. Gu asked about my family. I didn’t hide it. I calmly explained I was going through a divorce. When I said, “My husband transferred all his earnings, about $840,000, to his mother,” the German colleagues gasped. They couldn’t comprehend this “filial piety” or the financial abuse. “That’s illegal here!” one engineer said. “That’s economic violence!” Mr. Gu raised his glass to me, respect in his eyes. “Maya, you are brave. You made the right choice. You deserve better.” Their support melted the last of my hesitation. That night, I replied to Caleb. I didn’t expose his lie. I just sent a photo taken by the Rhine river. Me, smiling brilliantly in the sunset, with a castle in the background. Caption: “Hope Auntie recovers soon. By the way, the air in Germany is very fresh.” I knew this photo would hurt him more than any curse words.

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My husband texted me that he had to work late. Bored and alone, I was scrolling through TikTok when I stumbled upon a video posted ten minutes ago by a girl I went to college with. “My dream guy wants to take me to Hawaii, but he’s afraid his wife and family will get suspicious.” “Any ideas, guys?” I opened the comments. The internet was full of helpful souls. The top comment suggested: “Have him fake cancer, file for divorce so he ‘doesn’t drag her down,’ and then claim he’s going abroad for treatment. The wife stays home to take care of his parents, and he can come back whenever he’s done having fun.” I chuckled at the absurdity and scrolled past. At 3 AM, my husband came home, looking exhausted and devastated. He slumped onto the sofa and whispered, “Honey, we had mandatory health screenings at work today. They found liver cancer. Stage 4.” “I don’t want to be a burden to you. Let’s get a divorce.” I stared at Ethan for a long time. His words… why did they sound exactly like that top comment on TikTok? Could it be…? Was he the “dream guy” that college girl, Chloe, was talking about? I immediately dismissed the thought. Since we got married, Ethan had been the perfect husband—handsome, responsible, and kind. How could he cheat on me? I must be overthinking it. I took a deep breath and walked into his arms. “Ethan, we’re husband and wife. We took vows. For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. I’m not going anywhere.” “I don’t care what you have. I will never leave you!” Ethan suddenly pushed me away. “Ava, please accept reality!” “I have cancer! It’s terminal!” “I only have days to live.” “Just… consider this my dying wish.” “Please?” Tears streamed down his face. My heart broke seeing him like this. In this situation, I obviously wasn’t going to argue. I hugged him tight again and choked out, “Ethan, tell me. What do you want me to do?” “Whatever you want, I’ll do it.” Ethan wiped his tears, looked up, cupped my face, and said softly with red eyes, “Honey, I wasn’t actually working late tonight.” “Then why are you back so late?” “I went to see a friend’s sister. She went to the same college as us, remember Chloe? She told me there’s a new experimental laser therapy in Switzerland that can clear 99.99% of cancer cells.” “I didn’t know if it was true, so I went to ask her in person.” Hearing the name “Chloe” made my heart skip a beat. It was getting harder to deny my suspicion. It was almost certainly him. But I didn’t expose him. I didn’t question him. Instead, I played along. “And? What did she say?” “She said it’s real. But it’s expensive. I want to use our savings for the treatment. Even if there’s only a tiny hope, I don’t want to give up.” “Honey, you support me, right?” “Of course I support you!” I nodded and kissed his lips gently. “I can drop everything and go with you.” “If it’s about money, I’ll sell the house, I’ll sell my kidney if I have to!” Ethan immediately took two steps back. “You don’t know the language there. Besides, Chloe is going with me to help translate. You should stay here and take care of my parents.” “This therapy has risks. I might die on the table. So, I need you to lie to my parents for me.” “Tell them I died of cancer. If I’m cured, I’ll come back and surprise them.” I frowned. “You think they’ll believe that?” “Don’t worry, my parents are gullible. If they ask to see the body, just say I didn’t want them to be sad seeing me like that, so you had me cremated and scattered the ashes in the ocean.” “You’ve really thought this through.” “Tomorrow, we’ll go to the courthouse and divorce. Then I’ll fly out.” “You’re just going for treatment. Why do we have to divorce?” “Chloe said there’s a policy there. Single men get a huge discount on the therapy.” “Honey, I’m trying to save money for you. Can you understand? It’s a fake divorce anyway. When I’m cured, we’ll remarry immediately.” “As long as it’s for your good, I have no objections.” “Thank you, honey. I love you so much.” Ethan kissed me again, relieved. The next morning, we signed the divorce papers. He said he had to go meet Chloe to finalize the travel plans. Then he left. Less than thirty minutes later. Chloe posted a new TikTok. “Thanks for the advice, guys! My dream guy successfully played the sick card and escaped his controlling wife! We bought tickets to Hawaii!” “I’ve waited so long for this day. Once we land, I’ll update you guys on our happiness!” “Witness our love!” The video included a few photos. No faces, but interlocked hands. I clearly saw the watch on the man’s wrist. I bought that for Ethan’s birthday last month. If yesterday was suspicion, today was confirmation. The “dream guy” was my husband, Ethan. I felt like a boulder was crushing my chest. I couldn’t breathe. We had been so happy for years. I never thought he would betray me for a younger woman. That night, Ethan didn’t come home. He texted me saying he was prepping for the trip and they were flying out early. I asked if he wanted me to see him off. He said no. I sent another message, but it went unanswered. I put down my phone and took a deep breath. He was probably wrapped up in Chloe right now. Texting him would just be rude. I tossed and turned all night. The next day, I went to the airport. I saw Ethan and Chloe. They were intimate, laughing, sharing a cookie. They looked more like a married couple than we ever did. Ethan walked right past me without even noticing. I calmly recorded everything on my phone. Only after they boarded did I go home. Meanwhile, Chloe updated again. A photo of their boarding passes. “Hawaii, here we come!” “I think I’m the happiest woman in the world right now.” The comments were full of envy and blessings. Chloe replied to them one by one. Someone asked: “What about his wife?” Chloe replied: “Who cares about her? She’s a middle-aged hag, sloppy and smells bad.” “My guy suffered every day lying next to her.” “Now he’s free. He belongs only to me.” Because Chloe posted videos of herself, everyone knew she was young and hot. No one called her a homewrecker. They all cheered for her “true love.” I seethed with anger. I created a burner account and commented: “Don’t you care that he abandoned his wife and unborn children?” Two minutes later, she replied. “Haha, that just proves my guy is amazing. Those women were desperate to trap him. They deserved it!” “Aren’t you afraid he has kids?” “I don’t care. Kids or not, he’s mine. Besides, his wife got pregnant before, but I made him convince her to abort it.” My blood boiled. Years ago, I was pregnant. Ethan gave me a million reasons to abort it, saying we weren’t ready financially. Turns out, someone was pulling the strings behind the scenes. I never dreamed Ethan was this kind of monster. He killed our child. I suppressed the urge to murder someone and typed: “Aren’t you afraid of karma for killing a baby?” Chloe replied: “Karma? Haha, don’t be funny. There’s no such thing.” “As long as he belongs to me forever, I’d take a lightning strike.” “Gotta go, honeymoon time! Byeee!” She didn’t reply again. And I made a decision. A few days later. At dinner, my in-laws asked where Ethan was. I hesitated. “Mom, Dad, Ethan is busy with work.” They were suspicious but accepted it. A week later. They got into a car accident. My mother-in-law died on the spot. My father-in-law was critically injured but survived. When he woke up and learned his wife was gone, he broke down. I took care of him in the hospital for two weeks. His most frequent question was: “Where is my son?” I avoided answering. Until one day. I was emptying his bedpan. He suddenly grabbed my hand, tears in his eyes. “Ava, you’ve been like a daughter to us.” “Please, tell me the truth. What happened to Ethan?” “Why can’t I reach him? His office said he quit weeks ago.” I helped him sit up. I couldn’t hide it anymore. I sighed deeply. “Dad… Ethan… he died of cancer. His body was cremated, and his ashes scattered in the sea, just like he wanted.” “W-what?” My father-in-law’s eyes widened in horror. I wiped my tears and explained the lie Ethan concocted. Stage 4 liver cancer. Didn’t want to burden the family. Suffered alone. “Why didn’t he tell us?!” “He wanted to protect you.” “My son… my wife…” Overwhelmed by the double tragedy, he fainted. When he woke up, he wailed until his voice gave out. Later, I got a text from Ethan from a strange number. “How are my parents? You didn’t tell them the truth, right?” I smiled and replied: “I did exactly as you said.” “Good girl. Keep covering for me.” “Something happened at home. Are you coming back?” “I’m busy. Don’t bother me unless the house is burning down.” “Handle it yourself.” I didn’t reply. Ethan. You enjoy your time with Chloe. I sneered at the screen. After that, Ethan cut off all contact. I only saw him in the background of Chloe’s TikToks. Back home, my father-in-law fell into a deep depression. He started talking to himself. One day, he called me into his room. He handed me a sealed document bag, his eyes red. “Ava, I can’t hold on much longer. Before I lose my mind completely, take this. It’s the entire family fortune.” I was stunned. “Besides this house, there are two office buildings and a portfolio of stocks.” “Two… office buildings?” I stood up in shock. He nodded. He explained that the buildings were actually from Ethan’s grandfather. But since his wife’s side of the family died out, the grandfather left everything to Ethan. They planned to give it to Ethan once he matured. But now, Ethan was “dead.” Hearing this, I almost laughed out loud. God was helping me. Ethan wasn’t dead. He was sipping Mai Tais in Hawaii. But looking at my father-in-law’s broken face, my conscience pricked me. The son was the monster, not the father. I couldn’t do it. After a few days of agonizing, I told him the truth. I told him Ethan wasn’t dead. I told him about the fake cancer, the mistress, the Hawaii trip. He listened, then tried to call Ethan like a madman. No answer. He smashed his phone on the floor. “Ava, does Ethan know about the accident?” “I told him.” “What did he say?” “He said he was busy and couldn’t come back.” “Animal!” “I have no son!” He roared in rage. The next day, he took me to see the buildings. I thought they were small commercial lots. They were two 20-story skyscrapers in the business district. My jaw dropped. He told me the total assets were worth over $150 million. I stared at him. Ethan and I scraped by on salaries, saving a few hundred thousand after years of work. And my in-laws were sitting on $150 million? “Ava, that animal doesn’t care if we live or die. He’s dead to me.” “Even if he’s alive, I’m giving this to you.” “He doesn’t deserve a cent!”

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At the New Year’s Eve family dinner, my father distributed the “Founder’s Shares Bonus” for the family business. My older brother got some. My adopted sister got some. Even my unborn nephew in my sister-in-law’s belly got a share. Only I got nothing. “Mandy, you’re a girl. Eventually, you’ll marry out. The shares can’t flow to outsiders.” I froze, pressing my lips together in silence. They seemed to have forgotten that I was the one who funded 90% of this company and slaved away for five years to build it from the ground up. The next day, I convened an emergency board meeting: “Since the company is now on the right track, I am withdrawing all my capital to pursue my own ventures.” 1 The dining table for the Sterling family’s New Year’s Eve dinner was full. I had just rushed back from the airport, dusty and tired. I spent three grueling days negotiating a hundred-million-dollar contract before the client finally caved. “You’re back?” My father, Richard Sterling, sat at the head of the table, radiating the authority of a patriarch. Unfortunately, that authority was built on the company I had painstakingly propped up. I nodded and sat down. “Dad, what was the important announcement you mentioned?” Richard finally looked up, a smile breaking across his stern face. “The company is going public next month. I called you all back today to take advantage of the New Year and distribute the founder’s shares as a bonus.” The living room fell silent. My older brother, Leo, immediately sat up straight, uncrossing his legs. My adopted sister, Snow, paused with her teacup, her face a mask of gentle obedience. My sister-in-law, five months pregnant, leaned into Leo’s embrace in surprise. Watching Richard pull three documents from his briefcase, I instinctively straightened up too. “Leo.” Richard called my brother’s name. Leo stood up instantly, unable to hide the smugness on his face. “30% of the company’s founder shares, worth $36 million. It’s yours. Work hard, don’t let me down.” Leo took the document and stuffed it into his pocket without even looking at it. “Dad, don’t worry. I won’t let you down.” My grip on the teacup tightened. 30%. “Snow.” Richard called my adopted sister’s name. Snow’s eyes lit up as she trotted over. “You’ve worked hard taking care of your mother and me all these years. This 20% share, worth $24 million, is what you deserve.” Snow took the document, her eyes red. “Thank you, Daddy. You’re so good to me. I’ll take good care of you forever.” Everyone’s eyes in the dining room fell on me. I put down my teacup and looked at Richard. The remaining 50% should be mine. After all, from beginning to end, I was the one holding this company together. Richard pulled the last document from his briefcase. I was about to stand up. “Leo.” He called my brother’s name again. I froze. “The child in your wife’s belly is the eldest grandson of the Sterling family. This 10% share, worth $12 million, is reserved for him.” Leo’s wife covered her mouth and giggled. “Dad, you’re too good to us.” I watched Leo take the document, my mind going blank. “Dad,” I spoke, my voice calmer than I expected. “What about me?” Richard finally looked at me, frowning. “Mandy, you’re a girl. You’ll marry sooner or later. Shares can’t go to outsiders. That’s the rule.” “Besides, you’re capable. You can earn on your own. You don’t need this. Why fight with your siblings?” Leo laughed loudly. “Exactly. Giving it to you would just benefit some wild man outside. Big brother will give you a red envelope later.” Snow chimed in with fake sweetness, “Big sister is so capable, she surely doesn’t care about these material things, unlike useless me.” I scanned their faces one by one, downed my wine in one gulp, and smiled. “Dad’s right. I don’t lack this little bit.” I turned and left, leaving the room in stunned silence. As I reached the door, my stepmother chased after me, grabbing my arm and raising her voice: “Mandy! Who are you showing attitude to on New Year’s? Are you happy only when everyone is miserable?” Me? Making everyone miserable? I shook off her hand and sneered. “If I hadn’t sold the tech company I founded and used my entire inheritance from my grandfather to fill the Sterling family’s financial black hole, you’d all be bankrupt by now!” “You take my shares and give them away, did anyone consider if I was happy today?” “Even the adopted sister gets shares, but I’m an outsider? Fine. Since I’m an outsider, we’ll do things the outsider’s way.” 2 9:00 AM. Sterling Group Main Conference Room. As the CEO, I convened an emergency all-hands shareholder meeting. The room was packed. Every shareholder was present, except for three empty seats on the stage—Chairman Richard Sterling, New Director Leo, and New Director Snow. Typical of them. Five years ago, the Sterling Group was insolvent. Richard begged everywhere, but no one would lend him money. I sold my successful tech startup, liquidated the trust fund, antiques, and mansions left by my grandfather, and scraped together $90 million to inject into the Sterling account. Before the transfer, I signed an agreement with Richard containing a clause: If the equity change is not completed within five years, the capital injection automatically converts to a personal loan. The creditor has the right to demand full repayment at any time, with compound interest. This was meant to be a risk prevention measure. I never thought it would become a prophecy. Shares for the adopted sister with no blood relation. Shares for a fetus. None for me. Then what was my five years of turning the tide and working myself to the bone for? One question, and I realized I was the only outsider. My heart turned ice cold. Since he says I’m an outsider, this money is an external debt. Don’t blame me for being ruthless. I opened the PPT and displayed a financial report. “Gentlemen, the Sterling Group’s cash flow and operations are on track. The market value has reached a five-year high.” The shareholders applauded, thinking I was announcing dividends or IPO news. “Since the company is on the right track, my mission is over.” I paused. “I formally announce that I am withdrawing all personal funds I lent to the company. I will resign to pursue my own endeavors.” The room exploded. A shareholder jumped up in disbelief. “Withdraw? That’s $90 million!” “The company is facing the final IPO review next week. That $90 million accounts for 90% of the liquid capital! If you pull it, the capital chain will snap immediately!” “Supplier payments aren’t settled, bank loans are due next month, and thousands of employee salaries… If this money moves, the Sterling Group is finished!” I nodded. “Correct. I’ve made my decision.” Shareholders tried to persuade me. “Mandy, this is five years of your blood and sweat. How can you bear to watch it collapse?” “We’re all in the same boat. We can discuss anything.” I shook my head. “Sorry. Due to private reasons within the Sterling family, which I cannot disclose.” “Private reasons?” I looked at them, feeling a twinge of regret. We worked well together for five years. As minority shareholders, they didn’t cause trouble and supported my decisions. In return, I gave them ample dividends at the end of the year. I pulled the agreement from my file and placed it on the table. “This is the agreement I signed when I injected the capital. You can see for yourselves.” The nearest shareholder picked it up and read aloud. His voice grew quieter, his face uglier. “This… Richard is insane! A debt-to-equity swap agreement, and he dragged it out until it became pure debt!” It’s debt. I can take it back. Dead silence in the conference room. A few seconds later, someone jumped up and grabbed their phone. “I’ll call the Chairman!” “You can’t do this!” Five or six shareholders dialed simultaneously. The room filled with beeping tones. However, no one answered. “What’s going on? Why isn’t the Chairman answering?” “Leo isn’t picking up either!” “Snow? Snow’s phone is off too!” I watched the anxious shareholders and took a sip of tea. No need to call. I’ve seen it clearly over the last five years. As long as I was at the company, they didn’t worry about a thing. Richard liked taking my stepmother to the Maldives for two months at a time. Leo lived in casinos and clubs, his phone always on silent. Snow was busy with socialite gatherings, updating her Instagram more often than work reports. They were used to being hands-off. Used to me blocking the wind and rain. Only this time, no one was there to save them. As the CFO hit enter, $90 million plus interest transferred into my account. I closed my laptop and nodded to the ashen-faced shareholders. “Gentlemen, until we meet again.” My phone rang. It was Leo. The shareholders looked at me with hope. 3 I answered the phone. “Mandy, transfer me $500,000.” Leo’s voice was urgent, background noise filled with slot machines and shouting. “Bad luck just now, lost a big hand!” Normally, I would yell at him and have security drag him back. But now, I nodded. “Okay.” “What did you say?” Leo couldn’t believe it. “I said okay, brother.” My voice was light. “Is $500,000 enough? I’ll send a million. It’s New Year’s, you worked hard all year. Have fun.” “Really?” Leo’s voice pitched up. “I knew my little sister was the best! Dad just scolded me for wasting money. Transfer it quick, I’m going to win it all back!” “Arranging it now.” “Great! Thanks Mandy, I’ll treat you to dinner when I win!” Hanging up, I looked at Old Zhang, the CFO. “Ms. Sterling.” His voice trembled. He knew I hadn’t taken a single dividend in five years. Now that Leo had shares, he could technically withdraw dividends. “Old Zhang, transfer one million from the company account to Director Leo.” “Ms. Sterling?” Old Zhang gasped. “You just withdrew the principal. There’s only $1.2 million left. That’s for next month’s payroll and bank interest. If you transfer this, the account is empty!” “Transfer it.” I smiled. “Note it clearly: Director Leo urgent need, advance on personal dividends.” Old Zhang paused for a second, then nodded. “Understood.” Ding. A picture from Snow. A Himalaya Birkin bag. A voice message followed: “Sister, I’m at Hermes. This bag requires $200,000 in spend to buy. Dad limited my secondary card. Can you have finance transfer it? I’m a shareholder now, I can afford it.” I looked at the picture, the corner of my mouth lifting. I looked at Old Zhang again. “Old Zhang, how much is left?” Old Zhang sounded like he was about to cry. “Ms. Sterling, after the one million transfer, only $203,000 left. That includes next week’s utility and property management fees…” “Transfer that $200,000 to Snow.” “What?!” “Note: Director Snow advance on dividends, for luxury goods purchase.” “But Ms. Sterling, that will zero out the account! We won’t even have money for printer paper!” “Transfer.” Old Zhang sighed heavily and processed the request. Immediately, a roar erupted in the conference room. “What’s happening? Why is the balance zero?” “That one million went to Leo for gambling? And this $200,000?” “Snow? Buying a bag?!” A white-haired shareholder smashed his teacup on the floor. “Sinful! Leo gambles with the company’s lifeblood, Snow buys bags with the utility money! This is the heir Richard chose!” “Richard is blind! Throwing away the God of Wealth to worship two prodigals!” “It’s over. The Sterling Group is empty.” Listening to the wailing and cursing behind me, I calmly walked out. Snow sent a “Love You” sticker. “Received, thanks sis! You spoil me.” I replied with a smiley face. Of course I spoil you. It’s not my money anymore. Why not be generous? Just then, another call came in. Richard. The shareholders looked up again, eyes full of expectation. 4 “Mandy, transfer $800,000 to the Antique House.” Richard’s voice dripped with arrogance. “I saw a Jade Cabbage sculpture. Perfect for feng shui in the new office.” I looked out the window. “Dad, no money.” “Don’t give me that.” Richard interrupted impatiently. “Do I have to beg every time? Don’t forget, I’m the Chairman now. You used to control the money tight, I let it slide. Today is a happy day, don’t block me.” “Really no money.” “Do you think I’m stupid? $3 million came in yesterday, how can there be no money?” Richard sneered. “Fine, you won’t transfer? I’ll tell Old Zhang to do it. I’m the legal rep and major shareholder. I’ll see who dares stop me. Don’t hang up, listen!” The call became a three-way conference. Old Zhang’s trembling voice joined in. “Old Zhang, how much is in the account?” “Chair… Chairman… really no money. Ms. Sterling just transferred the last $200,000 to the second miss for a bag…” Richard was silent for two seconds, then exploded. “Fine! You’re all on her side, huh? Account empty? Then get a loan from the bank! The company has a $5 million credit line. Max it out now!” Old Zhang wailed on the other end. “Chairman, you can’t! That’s the last lifeline! The account is empty, if we borrow this $5 million, we can’t pay interest next month. The bank will seize assets immediately!” “This is drinking poison to quench thirst, Chairman!” “Shut up!” Richard roared. “Am I the Chairman or you? The company isn’t dead yet and you’re cursing me? The Jade Cabbage is a must, it’s my face! Loan it now or get out, no severance!” “Loan! Do it now!” Old Zhang sobbed, the sound of keyboard typing heavy. “Yes… applying now.” Listening, I had to admire Richard’s ability to self-destruct. “Dad,” I said. “Congratulations. Sterling Group’s debt ratio just broke the red line. With this $5 million loan plus previous debts, the company is insolvent.” “You know nothing!” Richard gloated. “Once my Jade Cabbage is here, the company’s luck will turn. What’s a little money! You just can’t stand seeing me spend!” “Okay,” I laughed. “Enjoy your Cabbage.” I hung up and shook my head. Sterling Group could have limped along for a few days. Now with this high-interest loan, the collapse would be twice as fast. Even God can’t save them now. Curses still echoed from the conference room. I shrugged at the shareholders and slipped away. Five years of hard work, I never even took a vacation. I bought a ticket and went straight to the airport. Money in the account, time on my hands. Feels good! After a spa treatment, I lay on a lounge chair in an island villa, slowly turning on my phone. The moment it booted, the screen exploded with missed calls. 99+. All from Richard, Leo, Snow, and a bunch of shareholders. I opened the company group chat. It was chaos. “Finance Dept Emergency: Insufficient funds, cannot pay suppliers this month!” “HR: Issue with payroll next week, please comfort staff.” “Bank just called. Credit line frozen. Next month’s loans must be repaid early or legal action follows.” “What happened? Wasn’t there money yesterday?” “Where’s Mandy? Where did the CEO go?” “CEO resigned. Find the Chairman.” “Chairman? Why isn’t he answering!”

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My sister was frail, but incredibly rebellious. To make her obedient without physical punishment, I became her “control sample.” She liked wearing heavy makeup and staying out late, so Mom made me walk through dangerous neighborhoods at night in a miniskirt. When she saw me come home disheveled and covered in bruises, she was too terrified to hang out with delinquents ever again. When she wanted to drink while pregnant, Mom forced ten cases of beer down my throat when I was eight months along. She watched me hemorrhage and lose my baby. Terrified, she didn’t touch a drop of alcohol for the rest of her pregnancy. She successfully gave birth to a healthy, fair-skinned baby boy. By her bedside, Mom held her hand: “If you had kept drinking, you would have ended up like your sister. Not only did she lose the baby, but she can never have children again.” My sister looked at me with gratitude: “Thank you, Terra. Otherwise, I would have ended up like you.” “Don’t mention it.” I wrapped a cord around Mom’s neck and stabbed a needle into her shoulder: “Let big sister teach you one final lesson—” “What happens when you abuse a child for twenty-seven years.” 1 Blood splattered onto my sister’s face. She screamed. I tightened the cord around Mom’s neck, dragging her backward step by step. My sister fell off the bed, but her body, weak from childbirth, couldn’t possibly catch up to me. By the time she cried and summoned the relatives, I was long gone. While everyone was in a panic, a livestream suddenly went viral online. On screen, I sharpened a machete against a whetstone. Schwing. Schwing. Behind me, Mom was tied tightly to a chair, looking at me with pure terror. [?? Isn’t this Mrs. Chen who went missing recently? Why is she here? Tied up by her own daughter!] [Holy sh*t, livestreaming a matricide?] “Terra!” In another split-screen livestream, my sister Chloe appeared: “Terra, what are you doing! Stop!” I admired the gleaming edge of the machete and gave the camera a cold stare. “Sister! I’m begging you!” Thud! She knelt on the floor. Her postpartum body was frail and trembling: “Mom raised us for over twenty years. Even if she wasn’t perfect, she worked hard! Whatever you’re unhappy about, take it out on me! Please, let her go!” The comments exploded: [WTF are you crazy! That’s your own mother! What kind of grudge is this?] [Killing your family on livestream? This is evil! Lock her up! She must have the violence gene!] The police sent a warning in the chat: [We are tracking your location. Surrender now, and there is still a chance for leniency.] I laughed: “Feel free to track.” [??? So arrogant! Lock her up forever!] [Just execute her when you find her, she’s too dangerous.] I didn’t speak. I just turned to look at my mother. She was trembling: “Terra, surrender quickly. Mom will write a letter of forgiveness for you.” [Boohoo, a mother’s love knows no bounds.] [If anyone else said it I wouldn’t believe it, but a mom really would forgive her daughter.] [Terra is a monster!] I smiled: “No need.” The machete dragged on the floor, sparking against the concrete as I approached Mom. [!! Stop! Don’t hurt your mom!] [Ahhh where are the police! Stop her!] “Sis!” Chloe’s voice tore through the screen. The machete rested against Mom’s neck. She shuddered: “Terra, are you really going to kill Mommy?” I looked down at her: “Tell me where Noah is.” Mom froze. 2 It wasn’t just Mom. Everyone watching the livestream froze. Tears streamed down Chloe’s face: “Sis, Noah is dead!” “He’s not!” I whipped my head around, eyes bulging with rage. The machete trembled in my hand. I gritted my teeth: “Noah isn’t dead. I know he isn’t dead!” “Terra! I know you’re hurting from the miscarriage, we all are! But you have to move on!” My father’s angry voice came from Chloe’s stream. I laughed. I looked at Mom: “Mom, you know whether my baby really died or not, don’t you?” Mom’s eyes darted away. I looked at the camera: “Everyone! I didn’t start this livestream to kill my family. I did it to find my son, whom my mother hid from me!” [?? What is she saying?] [Sounds like she had a miscarriage but thinks the baby is still alive?] I stared dead into the lens: “You may not know this, but my ‘miscarriage’ wasn’t an accident. It was because my sister insisted on drinking while pregnant. So my mother—” “To teach her a lesson about the dangers, forced ten cases of beer down my throat!” [??? Wait, is this English?] [I understand the words, but the sentence makes no sense.] [A mom forced alcohol on her older daughter just to show the younger one what happens? No way.] [Holy sh*t if this is true I’m gonna lose it!] I smiled at Mom: “Right, Mom?” “Nonsense!” Mom panicked: “You did it to yourself! No one could stop you! Why would I force you to drink and kill my own grandson?” [Yeah… I think the mom is right. Parents can have favorites, but no mom would do that.] [I agree. I have two daughters. Even if I’m biased sometimes, they’re both my kids.] [Seems like Terra had a mental break after the miscarriage and hallucinated that her mom caused it.] [Definitely. Normal people don’t livestream torturing their parents!] I laughed. I knelt in front of Mom: “Of course I know why you did it. “I’ve been Chloe’s control sample for over twenty years. Now my Noah has to be the control sample for Chloe’s baby, right?” “What are you talking about!” Mom scolded harshly. But I could see her breathing had become erratic. That was the nervousness of being exposed. I pressed my hand on her knee: “Mom, why do you treat me like this? Am I not your daughter?” “You’re crazy!” Mom turned her head away. I chuckled bitterly. Stood up. My eyes turned cold: “I know the police are tracing my location. Don’t worry, you won’t find me. “But I promise, as soon as you find my Noah, I will surrender. “If not…” I pointed the machete at Mom: “Every ten minutes, I take a piece of her!” [? She’s going to torture her??] [She’s insane!] Ignoring the frantic chat and Chloe’s screaming, I started the timer. The police had no choice but to investigate. A team questioned Chloe and her husband about Noah. Without exception, they all said, “He was stillborn.” Dad wiped his tears: “If Terra hadn’t insisted on drinking, Noah wouldn’t have died in the womb! Now the baby is gone, and she blames her mother!” I laughed bitterly. Stared at the timer. “Ten minutes are up.” I stood. Chloe threw herself at the camera: “Sis! Don’t do it! I know you’re just threatening us, that’s our mom! Don’t worry, when you come out, I’ll help you look for Noah, okay?” I stood behind Mom. Grabbed her ear. The blade fell. Mom screamed in agony. I held up her ear to the camera. In front of Chloe’s horrified eyes. I let go. The flesh hit the table with a sickening thud. Chloe’s eyes rolled back, and she fainted into her husband, Dr. Lucas’s, arms. Lucas was furious. He strode to the camera and slammed a document against the lens: “Terra, wake up!” It was… Noah’s death certificate. 3 I stared at the report, unable to speak for a long time. Lucas panted heavily: “The hospital issued the death certificate, stamped and verified! What is there to doubt!” The comments scrolled wildly: [Confirmed, Terra is really crazy!] [With witnesses and evidence, it really seems like a mental break.] [Boohoo, poor mom, suffering for nothing.] “Terra!” Lucas stared at me through the screen. Hope in his eyes. I printed out the death certificate he uploaded. Turned around, and restarted the timer. “Terra!!” Lucas roared at the camera like a madman. He looked like he wanted to reach through the screen and strangle me. I just sat in the chair, watching the countdown calmly. “Crazy, you are truly crazy!” Lucas paced in circles. Then pointed at the camera: “What will make you believe? Noah’s ashes are buried! If you don’t believe the death certificate, what will you believe!” “I don’t disbelieve death certificates!” I stared coldly at the screen: “I just don’t believe the one you gave me.” He froze. I stood up, hands on the table: “Dr. Lucas, it would be one thing if someone else signed this certificate. But the signature is yours.” His face went pale. I smiled sarcastically: “All these years, when Mom made me be Chloe’s control sample, you never had a problem with it. “You even actively told Mom about your wife’s bad habits, encouraging Mom to experiment on me so your wife would learn!” Lucas avoided my gaze. I leaned into the camera, smiling: “You just wanted your son to learn lessons painlessly too, didn’t you? “Lucas, let me tell you. Impossible! “My child will never be a control sample for yours!” “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Lucas’s breathing quickened. I sat back, leaning against the chair: “Don’t know? Fine. “You signed the paper saying the baby was stillborn. Do you dare let the doctors and nurses who delivered him confront you?” “I!” Lucas choked. Couldn’t say a word. The comments immediately sensed something wrong: [Something’s fishy. Is the death certificate fake?] [If it’s real, why can’t he speak? Did the baby survive?] [No way, did they really try to use someone else’s kid as a lesson for their own? That’s evil!] The police questioning them changed their expressions: “Sir, we need you to cooperate with the investigation.” “No! Wait, don’t believe her, I didn’t forge it, really!” Lucas panicked. The police remained calm: “We will investigate your colleagues, including everyone present at the birth. Don’t worry, we won’t wrongfully accuse you.” “W-what?” Lucas turned white. Chloe rushed up: “No need to investigate, officers! My sister is talking nonsense! You should be finding her location, not suspecting innocent people!” [Suspicious. Why are the couple so anxious?] [Their attitude changed too fast. Feels like they’re hiding something.] [Did they really hide Terra’s baby!] The netizens could see it, and the police saw it even clearer. With one minute left on the timer. The police officer darkened his face: “Mr. Lucas, this is a matter of life and death. If you really hid the child’s status, confessing now can earn you leniency. “And spare Mrs. Chen more suffering.” “I, I…” Lucas was breaking. “The child is dead!” The door was pushed open. A man looked at the police, calm and composed: “Officers, please don’t believe Terra’s one-sided story.” I stood up: “Sean!” He looked over: “Terra, stop this.” 4 I knew this wouldn’t be easy. But I never thought the one to stop me would be my husband. “Why are you here?” My fists clenched tight. His expression was cold: “To stop you from making a bigger mistake.” “Noah didn’t die!” “He died!” In three years of marriage, this was the first time he yelled at me. The comments were full of question marks: [?? What’s happening?] [Her own husband is testifying against her?] [But Terra didn’t seem like she was lying? Is Sean siding with outsiders? That’s his own son!] “No, everyone. Terra is lying.” Sean faced the comments, sighing lightly: “My wife… she has persecution mania.” I froze. The chat filled with question marks. “After we lost the baby, she developed postpartum depression. It evolved into this. She insists the baby is alive, even hallucinating that she is Chloe’s control sample. “As her husband, I understand and my heart breaks for her.” He looked at me, eyes gentle like they used to be, the eyes that made me feel cared for: “Terra, stop it. We can have another child.” “I’m not crazy!” My eyes turned red: “You know Noah isn’t dead! You know better than anyone! Why frame me!” “Noah is dead!” A report was slammed in front of the camera. The bold title read: [AUTOPSY REPORT]

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