Author: Momo Chan

1 I walked out of the doctor’s office, clutching the test results, my face grim. My husband glanced at the report and saw the three words that would change everything: Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. He didn’t say a word. He went home and cooked me a feast of all my favorite dishes, the ones he was famous for. After we ate, he looked at me, his expression serious. “Chloe,” he said, “we still have to put our son through college. This disease… it’s a bottomless pit. There’s no cure. Maybe we shouldn’t even try to treat it.” I stared at him, stunned. He continued, “If it were me, I wouldn’t want the treatment either. I couldn’t let one person drag down the whole family.” “Chloe, I hope you understand.” Of course, I understood him. So I nodded. “Okay. We won’t treat it.” What he didn’t seem to realize was that I wasn’t the one who was sick. 2 Mark had been complaining of weakness and fatigue for a while. I hadn’t been feeling great myself, so we went to the hospital for a check-up together. When the results came back, the doctor called me into his office alone. “You’re Mark’s wife, correct? Based on his test results, he has ALS.” Those three letters exploded in my mind. I knew exactly what they meant. “Doctor, money is no object for us. Please, do everything you can to slow the progression of my husband’s illness, to give him a few more years of quality life. Where there’s life, there’s hope. I don’t care if we have to sell everything we own.” I was trembling when I left the office. I tried to compose myself, but Mark could tell something was wrong. He glanced at the papers in my hand. I quickly stuffed them into my purse. Mark didn’t say anything, just pulled me into his arms. “You must be hungry. Let’s go home, I’ll cook you something delicious.” He made a spread of all my favorites. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The tears started to fall. He gently wiped them away. “Let’s eat first. We can talk after.” I guessed he already knew. After dinner, we sat in silence for a long time. Finally, Mark broke the silence. “Chloe, maybe we shouldn’t treat it.” I sobbed. “No! The doctor said with proper treatment, we can manage the symptoms. He can still have a few good years!” “But the cost of treating ALS is astronomical. It’s hundreds of thousands a year. It’s too much for us.” I grabbed his hand. “Don’t worry about the money. We both have good salaries. Even if only one of us is working, we can afford it. We’ll just have to tighten our belts a little.” “Chloe, we still have to put our son through college. Your illness is a bottomless pit with no cure. Let’s just not treat it.” I froze. “What did you say?” “If it were me, I wouldn’t want the treatment either. I couldn’t let one person drag down the whole family.” “Chloe, I hope you understand.” So that was it. He hadn’t seen the name on the report. He thought I was the one who was sick. I pulled my hand away. The tears stopped instantly. It’s amazing how quickly love can die. “Okay,” I said, my voice flat. “I understand. We won’t treat it.” 3 Mark visibly relaxed. He took my hand again. “Chloe, it’s not about the money. I’m just thinking about our son’s future.” “He’ll need to go to college, maybe study abroad. He’ll want to get married someday. All of that costs money. If we drain our savings on medical bills, what will he do?” “And the most important thing is, there’s no cure for your disease. Why would we waste money on something that can’t be fixed?” I pulled my hand back. “That’s enough. You don’t have to say any more. We won’t treat it. It is a waste of money. And since you said you wouldn’t get treatment if it were you, how can I argue?” “I’m glad you understand. We can use the money we save to travel. See the world, try new things, experience different cultures. It’ll be great!” For a second, I felt a pang of guilt. Had I misjudged him? I wanted Mark’s last days to be happy. “Okay, then. Book the tickets. You pick the place. We’ll go as a family, wherever you want to go.” “Great. I’ll start looking up destinations.” He spent the rest of the evening on his phone. I assumed he was researching our trip. Three days passed, and I heard nothing. “Mark, have you picked a place? When are we leaving? I need to request time off from work.” He avoided my eyes. “I was about to book the tickets, but my dad was suddenly hospitalized. I have to go be with him. And I don’t feel right about you and our son going alone.” “Let’s wait a little while. When my dad is better, we’ll go.” Mark had a tell. Whenever he lied, his eyes darted back and forth. “Then I should go see your dad.” “No, don’t. Hospitals are no place for you to be right now. Dad will understand.” “By the way, I won’t be home after work today. I’m going to the hospital to stay with him.” I didn’t call him out on it. I just nodded and said okay. At seven o’clock that evening, the GPS on Mark’s phone showed his location as a high-end karaoke bar. I took a cab straight there. After a quick word with the hostess, I went to the private room he was in. The door was slightly ajar. Before I even went in, I could hear Mark’s voice, booming with confidence. “Everyone here is a good friend of Jessica’s, so don’t hold back! Whatever you want to drink, whatever you want to eat, order it. It’s on me!” Cheers erupted from the room. “Mark’s the man! Jessica will be in good hands with you.” Mark had his arm around a woman I didn’t recognize, a wide grin on his face. I pushed the door open. “Mark. Is this what you call ‘staying with your dad at the hospital’?” The noisy room fell silent. Mark snatched his arm back from the woman’s shoulder as if he’d been electrocuted. “Chloe, what are you doing here?” “If I hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have known you were having such a party. Who was it I just heard was going to be ‘in your hands’?” “This is Jessica. She’s my new secretary.” “We just closed a big deal at work, so I’m treating everyone to a night out. My dad has a nurse with him, so you don’t need to worry.” “I’ve been to your office dozens of times. I know all your colleagues. How is it that I don’t recognize a single person here?” Jessica stood up, her face a mask of cold fury. “They’re my friends.” I laughed. “How generous of you, Mark. Treating your new secretary’s friends to a place this expensive.” “Why don’t you introduce me to everyone?” Mark stood frozen. I linked my arm through his and addressed the room. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Mark’s wife. My name is Chloe.” 4 The room was dead silent. A girl sitting next to Jessica sneered. “I know who you are. You’re Mark’s wife, the one with ALS.” “Mark is a saint for not divorcing you, knowing you have a disease like that.” I looked at Mark. “So, even your new secretary’s friends know about this? You’re not exactly discreet, are you?” Mark didn’t say a word. I walked over to Jessica. “Are you that desperate to take my place?” Jessica’s lip trembled, and she started to cry. Mark stormed over, yanked me away from her, and slapped me across the face. “I organized this party! I was the one who told Jessica to invite her friends! If you’re angry, take it out on me!” I stared at the man in front of me, this man who was so consumed with rage on behalf of another woman. I didn’t recognize him. One illness had shown me the true face of the man I slept next to every night. Mark was furious. “You’ve ruined the whole mood.” He called the waiter over. “The check.” “That’s it for tonight, everyone. I’ll treat you all again some other time.” The waiter brought the bill. The total was over ten thousand dollars. Mark paid it without batting an eye. I burst out laughing. No money to treat his dying wife, but plenty to lavish on his mistress. Mark called a car service to take us home. The moment we walked through the door, he said, “Chloe, let’s get a divorce.” I paused. “Are you sure?” “I’m sure.” “Fine. Then let’s talk about how we’re going to divide our assets.” “We have twenty thousand in savings. We’ll each take ten. The house and our son, they’re both mine. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” Rage surged through me. “Mark, we’ve been married for ten years. We should have at least three hundred thousand in savings. Now you’re telling me there’s only twenty thousand left? Are you kidding me?” “And the house? You bought it with a mortgage. We’ve been paying it off together. Why should you get it? And our son, I’m fighting for him.” “There really is only twenty thousand left in savings. I forgot to tell you, I invested the rest in a small business venture. It all went bust.” “And the house, even though we were both paying the mortgage, the deed is in my parents’ names. So it has nothing to do with you.” I slammed my hand on the table. “Mark! When we got married, you told me this was your house!” “It is my house. Can’t I put my house in my parents’ names?” “Fine. You want to play dirty? Then I’m not divorcing you. Let’s see who outlasts who.” “Chloe! How long do you think you have left to live? If you don’t divorce me, then I’ll just wait for you to die!” I scoffed. “Then let’s wait. Let’s see which one of us dies first.” Mark threw a teacup against the wall. “I must have been cursed to have married you!” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. This time, I didn’t care where he went. I immediately contacted a lawyer to discuss the divorce and asked her to investigate Mark’s transfer of our marital assets, as well as how to win custody of our son. Our eight-year-old son was terrified by our fighting. “Mommy, are you and Daddy going to get a divorce?” he asked, his voice trembling. I pulled him into my arms. “Sweetheart, if Mommy and Daddy separate, will you hate me?” He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s because Daddy likes that other lady.” He took out the Polaroid camera I had bought him. “I took a picture of Daddy kissing her.”

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1 The day I got my cancer diagnosis, I practically skipped home with the report in my hand. When the front door swung open, my parents and my brother were huddled around the girl who had taken my place, Seraphina, cooing over her and trying to make her smile. Same as always. I stormed in, slapped the papers down on the polished mahogany table, and announced, “Mom, Dad, Spencer. I have stomach cancer. It’s terminal. I’ve got less than three months.” They froze. I waited, my heart pounding with a strange, vindictive excitement. I imagined their faces crumbling with regret, the remorse they should have felt for years finally hitting them. I pictured them on their knees, begging for my forgiveness, and I knew, even then, I would never grant it. But the scene I had so vividly imagined never played out. They passed the diagnosis report between them, a heavy silence filling the grand living room. Finally, my father spoke, his voice void of any emotion. “What kind of urn do you want?” My mother was next. “In three months, it’s Sera’s eighteenth birthday gala. Your funeral can’t be a big affair. It would cast a shadow on her celebration.” There was no gut-wrenching moment of regret from my family. On the day of Seraphina’s lavish party, I died alone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day they first brought me home. … My stomach was still twisting with a phantom agony, but the world around me had erupted into chaos. My eyes snapped open to the sight of Seraphina sobbing in my mother’s arms. Before the dizzying reality of my rebirth could even settle in, a violent shove sent me stumbling to the floor. I looked up into the hostile glare of my brother, Spencer. “Let me make one thing clear,” he snarled. “Sera is my only sister. I’ll destroy anyone or anything that hurts her.” The gears of my mind, rusty from death, began to turn. I remembered this. This was the first day. The day my birth parents, the Baldwins, finally brought me home after sixteen years of hell. I’d been abused my entire life, so when they found me, I foolishly believed I had found a safe harbor. I thought I would finally receive the affection, the love, the everything I had only ever dreamed of. I never imagined they already had a replacement, an impostor daughter who had been living my life, basking in the warmth that should have been mine. In my first life, when Spencer pushed me, sixteen years of bottled-up grief and injustice exploded out of me. I collapsed into a pathetic, weeping mess, snot and tears streaming down my face as I demanded they throw Seraphina out. I thought they didn’t know what I’d been through, so I tore open my old wounds for them to see, my words practically dripping with blood. “Seraphina’s mother did it on purpose! She switched us at birth, she admitted it to my face!” “She broke my ribs three times! My right arm was dislocated twelve times, and my thighs and chest… they’re covered in burns…” “When I was seven, she sold me to a grimy traveling circus! I had to eat and sleep with the animals, forced to bark like a dog on stage for scraps of food, to jump through rings of fire…” I was screaming, clawing at my own clothes in a desperate, undignified plea. “Mom, Dad, Spencer, look! Look at my scars! It hurt so much, it hurt so, so much…” “Please, just have a little pity on me… Send her away. Please don’t let her call you Mom and Dad and Spencer. Please?” I looked up, my vision blurred with tears, desperately hoping to see a flicker of compassion, to feel a gentle hand wipe my face. But my parents just looked… awkward. And in my brother’s eyes, I saw a flash of pure disgust. He was the one who spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Even if any of that is true, what does it have to do with Sera? She was just a baby. She didn’t know anything. She’s the innocent one here. Imagine how she feels, suddenly finding out she’s not related to us. I bet she’s hurting a lot more than you are.” My tears froze on my cheeks. I stared at him, searching for any sign he was joking, but there was none. My head swiveled to my parents, the very people who had brought me here. My mother, Isabelle, who had been weeping with pity just moments before, was now clutching Seraphina, her expression troubled. “He’s right, Aurora. Spencer has a point. Sera is innocent in all this. Can’t you try to be a little more understanding?” My father, Arthur, delivered the final verdict. “Enough. You’ll both stay. The Baldwin family can afford to support two daughters. Now get up off the floor and change into something decent. You’re making a scene.” And so, on my very first day home, I became the enemy. The next three years were a blur of constant, bitter conflict. One thousand and ninety-five days. And in all that time, I never won a single battle against Seraphina. Not one. That’s why, when I saw the cancer diagnosis, my first feeling wasn’t fear or sadness. It was relief. A vicious, liberating relief. I hoped my death would be the ultimate punishment for my biased parents, the final blow that would make my hateful brother drown in guilt. But I gambled with my life and still lost everything. On Seraphina’s eighteenth birthday, my urn was quietly buried. No memorial, no eulogy. No one even came to say goodbye. Oh, Mother. Father. Spencer. This time around, I don’t want your love. My thoughts snapped back to the present. I looked up at my furious brother and said calmly, “Mr. Baldwin, I have no intention of being your sister.” Spencer stared, dumbfounded. Even my parents, still comforting Seraphina, turned to look at me in shock. 2 My father’s brow furrowed, his voice cold. “Aurora, that’s enough.” “This is the Baldwin estate. What Sera has, you will have too. We won’t neglect our own flesh and blood.” My mother’s gaze softened as she took in my frail frame, a flicker of pity in her eyes. She let go of Seraphina and knelt to help me up. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, darling,” she murmured. “Besides, you’re not an adult yet, and you have no money. If you don’t come home with us, what will you do? Go back to that circus? Be paraded around like an animal for the crowd’s amusement?” Even though I had already died and come back, her words still stung, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. You see, that was my mother. She knew the depths of my suffering, knew my dignity had been stripped away for sixteen years. Yet she could still weaponize my trauma with such casual cruelty, wrapping it in a guise of concern. In my last life, I was so desperate for her love that I never saw the cold indifference hiding beneath the surface. But now… I steadied myself and gently pushed her hands away. “I’m serious,” I said, my voice level. “No one outside this house knows I exist. You can just tell people you’re sponsoring a scholarship for an underprivileged student from the countryside.” Before they could argue, I pressed on. “Besides, I don’t know any of your etiquette. I can’t tell a Merlot from a Cabernet, I don’t know the first thing about flower arranging… I’d only embarrass the Baldwin name if my identity got out.” The protests died on their lips. My parents exchanged a look, and both fell silent. I lowered my head to hide the bitter, knowing smile that touched my lips. It was just like last time. Seraphina would drag me to elegant galas just to watch me make a fool of myself. And with every clumsy mistake, the guilt and pity my parents initially felt for me slowly evaporated, replaced by shame. Terrified of losing them completely, I had driven myself to the brink, staying up all night, cramming years of culture and etiquette into my exhausted mind. Eventually, I could navigate those shark-infested waters with grace, even outshining Seraphina. I thought they would be proud. I thought Spencer would finally see me differently. But all it took was a single tear from Seraphina, and all my hard work turned to ash. Spencer cut up all my evening gowns. My parents fired my tutors. And Seraphina? She was rewarded with a private piano concerto, a lavish affair that I later heard cost them nearly a million dollars. A million dollars. If I remembered correctly, my urn cost just over a hundred. It was clear now. In my past life, I was too naive, too consumed by my own sense of injustice. I fought, I clawed, I demanded. And all I got were more scars, without earning a single drop of their sympathy. What was the point of it all? Aurora, what was the point? You fought until your last breath and couldn’t even earn yourself a decent funeral. Breaking the thick silence, my father finally spoke. “Fine. We’ll do it your way for now. We’ll hire the best tutors for you. When you’re ready, we’ll hold a proper reception to announce your identity as a Baldwin.” I nodded curtly. “Thank you, Mr. Baldwin.” He frowned at the formality. “You’re home now. You don’t have to be so distant. You can call me Dad.” I shook my head, offering a faint, detached smile. “No, I’d better stick with Mr. Baldwin. I wouldn’t want to get too comfortable and let it slip in public.” I turned to my mother, Isabelle, adopting the same formal address. “And thank you, Ms. Baldwin. I only require your support until I turn eighteen. I won’t be a burden for long.” A pale shadow crossed my mother’s face. She forced a smile and reached for my hand again. “Aurora, you don’t have to be like this. You’re my daughter, after all. We…” I pulled my hand back. I was tired, so tired of their hollow words. Slinging my tattered bag over my shoulder, I started walking toward the guest rooms on the first floor. Behind me, Seraphina’s small, timid voice piped up. “Aurora… sister… I’ve already moved my things out of my room for you. You can… you can take it. I’ll just stay in the guest room.” I paused but didn’t turn around. “Don’t bother. After all, you’re the rightful daughter of this house right now.” A few steps later, I heard Spencer’s voice, laced with anger. “Sera, just ignore her. She won’t even call them Mom and Dad. Who does she think she’s fooling with this pathetic act?” “If she wants to suffer, let her. She shouldn’t even get a guest room.” “Mrs. Gable!” he barked. “Get the key to the storage closet. Let her sleep in there.” I felt their eyes on my back, a collective weight of judgment. I didn’t look back. I didn’t argue. I just followed the housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, in silence to collect my key. 3 I ate dinner alone in the storage closet that night. As I passed the dining room to get my food, I could hear Seraphina laughing with my parents and brother. As if on cue, their cheerful chatter grew louder the moment I appeared. Spencer was practically feeding Seraphina by hand. Last time, that kind of deliberate exclusion would have shattered me, sparking a huge fight that left everyone miserable. This time, I simply gave the happy family a polite nod and walked away. I had bigger things to worry about. A full health check-up, a fitness regimen, my studies, and most importantly… college entrance exams. I had no time or energy to waste on people who didn’t matter. It was August, with a month left before the school year started. I immediately got a comprehensive medical exam. Seeing the clean bill of health for my stomach, I breathed a sigh of true relief. The cancer hadn’t started yet. I drafted a strict daily schedule for myself and requested all the textbooks for the next two years of high school. Every morning, I was up and out for a run before anyone else in the Baldwin house had stirred. I would time my return perfectly, finishing breakfast just before they came downstairs, and then retreat to my room to study. Isabelle tried, on several occasions, to bring me a glass of milk and chat, but my cool, indifferent responses always shut her down. Eventually, she seemed to get the hint, or perhaps took offense. Her visits grew infrequent, and soon it was Mrs. Gable who brought the milk. One night, my head swimming from hours of calculus, I glanced up and saw the glass of milk under the warm glow of my desk lamp. It was stone cold. A sardonic smile twisted my lips. That was my mother in a nutshell. You couldn’t say she was heartless; she always offered these tiny gestures of hope. A glass of milk, a moment spent brushing my hair, a cup of ginger tea she brewed herself when I had cramps. But you couldn’t say she was caring, either. She never knew I was lactose intolerant. She never knew I was allergic to ginger. And whenever I had a breakdown, she would simply leave me alone to pick up my own pieces. In my last life, I was driven mad by that hollow, performative version of motherly love. Sometimes I wondered if she even wanted me back. If my very existence, a living reminder of her failure, was just an embarrassment to her in front of her high-society friends. Otherwise, why would she be so cruel? … Time slipped away, silent and unnoticed, like the milk poured down the drain. When Arthur asked which high school I wanted to attend, I chose Seraphina’s without hesitation. Spencer scoffed. “So the quiet act is over, huh? I almost believed you were the type who didn’t like to compete. What’s the plan? Finally ready to go make Sera’s life miserable at school?” I met his gaze directly, my own calm and unblinking. “I chose that school because it’s the best in Crestwood City, with the strongest faculty. And Mr. Baldwin, my college exams are extremely important to me. Rest assured, I won’t jeopardize my future over the kind of petty drama you’re imagining.” Spencer’s face darkened, but I saw Arthur glance at me, a flicker of something thoughtful in his eyes. “Sister, don’t talk to Spencer like that,” Seraphina interjected, her voice soft and placating. “He’s just worried about me. And Mom, Dad, don’t worry. I know the school inside and out. I’ll take good care of my sister.” Her words smoothed over the awkward tension. Isabelle beamed, pulling Seraphina into a hug. “That’s my sweet girl. Always so thoughtful.” The scene that used to pierce my heart now felt like a distant echo, causing no ripple within me. My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and smiled. It was the school. My application for a dorm room had been approved. 4 When we got in the car for the first day of school, Seraphina offered graciously, “Sister, you and Spencer should take the back. I can sit up front.” But before she could even take a step, Spencer grabbed her arm. “What are you doing? You’re sitting with me. The front seat is for outsiders.” He shot a pointed look at me from the corner of his eye. To his disappointment, I didn’t look hurt or angry. In fact, I was relieved. I gave him a polite nod. The very thing I had begged for in my last life was something I now desperately wanted to avoid. The car purred smoothly onto the school grounds. As expected, Seraphina and I were placed in the same class. During gym class, she brought her whole clique over to meet me, a mix of popular boys and girls. Of course, she wasn’t being kind. In my first life, I had suffered immensely at the hands of these “friends.” I looked up at their familiar faces. Back then, desperate to beat Seraphina at her own game, I had tried to win them over. I poured my heart out to them, acting like a pathetic, loyal puppy, eager for their approval. I later found out they had a private group chat. Its name was “Taming the Mutt.” In that group, they circulated humiliating photos of me from my circus days and brainstormed new, cruel “games” to play with me. Then, the day before the final college entrance exams, they executed their masterpiece. They printed out compromising photos of me, along with screenshots of all the degrading things I’d done to please them. They loaded them onto a drone and showered the entire school campus with them. And just like that, the girl who had clawed her way to the top of the school rankings for two years, the student the teachers were certain would get into an Ivy League school, never even made it to the exam. I ran through the hallways, dodging the strange looks and whispered insults, and confronted them. “Why?” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “Why would you do this to me? Wasn’t I good enough to you?” They just laughed. One of them casually plucked a flyer out of the air and threw it at my face. “Just look at yourself. You’re pathetic. How could you even think someone like you deserved friends?” “We feel sick just breathing the same air as you.” “This is your punishment for making Sera sad.” My thoughts snapped back to the present. Seraphina was already putting on her wounded expression. “Sister… do you not like my friends? I didn’t mean anything by it, I just saw you were all alone and I thought…” I stood up, cutting her off. “They’re your friends. You have fun with them. You don’t need to worry about me.” But this time, my coldness seemed to pique their interest. They spent the rest of the day trying to talk to me, offering me snacks, inviting me to eat with them, even ignoring Seraphina in the process. I looked down, a scornful smile playing on my lips. What a performance. I hadn’t planned on getting involved with them again in this life. But since they insisted on playing this game, well, I might as well give them a parting gift. Just like last time, the driver took Seraphina home after school without waiting for me. I knew exactly what she was planning. In my first life, she had intentionally drenched herself in the rain and gone home in tears. When my frantic parents and brother asked what was wrong, she had played the part of the reluctant victim, eventually confessing that she knew I resented her. She claimed that even though she knew I had paid some bullies to lock her in a bathroom and pour water on her, she didn’t blame me. When I heard her lies, my face flushed with rage. “She’s lying! I didn’t—” But my denial was met not with trust, but with a sharp, stinging slap across the face. They didn’t even bother to listen to my side of the story before passing judgment. That night, I was locked out of the house, forced to endure a torrential downpour. But this time, I had a feeling no one would be in the mood to appreciate Seraphina’s little act. Instead of taking the bus home, I had a quiet dinner, found a spot in the library to study, and waited. Sure enough, just before seven o’clock, my phone began to vibrate violently. I let it ring for a moment, then answered. On the other end, I heard my mother’s voice, choked with sobs. “Aurora, something’s happened. You need to come to the hospital. Now.”

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My husband always left little clues behind after his affairs. Last time, I found a lipstick in the passenger footwell of his car. A vibrant plum shade. The same color his junior nurse always wore. I pretended not to see it. He kept glancing at me during the drive, probably wondering if my feigned ignorance emboldened his little nurse to cross more lines. This time, he’d actually tucked a pair of black stockings under my pillow. He even sent me screenshots of their explicit messages. [So what if you’re childhood sweethearts? You’re old news now. Arthur’s bored with you. You have no idea how passionate he gets in your marriage bed, do you?] I saved it silently, just like all the others. I used to fight Arthur countless times over her. Our wedding home was practically ripped apart and redecorated multiple times after my outbursts. But now, I was tired of fighting. I wouldn’t do it anymore. I meticulously gathered the evidence. I compiled a thirty-five-page presentation, complete with receipts, and uploaded it online. She loved to share, didn’t she? Then let her share to her heart’s content. 1 Arthur stood at the bedroom door, holding the black stockings between two fingers, a look of distaste on his face. “Audrey, we need to talk about this.” My eyelids were heavy from a night spent working on that presentation. I closed my laptop. “There’s nothing to talk about. You deal with it.” “No.” Arthur spoke, ignoring my grim expression. “You were away on business last week, and I had a major surgery. I gave my key to someone from the department to pick up a change of clothes for me.” “I never expected it to be Scarlett, and I certainly never expected her to do something so… sordid.” He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “Audrey, you have to believe me.” “Are you finished?” He choked on his words. I tried to walk past him into the bathroom. “Audrey.” Arthur grabbed my wrist. “Don’t you care at all?” I used to care. A year ago, when I first found that lipstick in his car, I smashed the dinnerware we’d bought on our honeymoon. Six months ago, when I saw a photo of them at the movies on social media, I shredded all his white shirts. Three months ago, when I found her suggestive emojis in his phone, I threw a vase at our television. I’d made a scene countless times, but in the end, we never truly separated. Because we were childhood sweethearts. We were three years old, fighting over the same building block in preschool. When I was ten, he took the blame for me and got a lecture from our teacher. On the eve of our high school finals, when we were seventeen, he climbed through my window onto the balcony. Just to tell me: “Audrey, don’t be nervous. Wherever you go, I’ll follow.” Twenty-seven years of memories had spun a thick cocoon around me, trapping me inside. “Arthur, I’m just so tired.” I tugged my wrist, but he wouldn’t let go. “What do you mean?” He stared at me intently, not wanting to miss a single flicker of emotion. “Let go.” “No! You have to tell me what’s going on today!” Struggling was almost an instinct. In the frantic push and pull, something fell. The sharp crack of breaking porcelain shattered the quiet night. We both froze. A pile of scattered fragments lay cold and gleaming under the lamp. It was the white porcelain vase I’d made during a summer art program in Florence when I was sixteen. Arthur had squatted behind me, our faces burning with embarrassment as our classmates teased us, helping me finish it. Our intertwined handprints were the vase’s only pattern. Over the years, we’d moved several times, argued countless times. I’d smashed necklaces he gave me, shattered furniture we’d picked out together. But I had never touched that vase. It had always stood there, holding dried baby’s breath. Now it was broken. Arthur flinched, his grip on my arm suddenly slackening. And I, utterly drained of strength, crumpled directly onto the ceramic shards. Blood bloomed instantly, staining the white porcelain, blurring the memories of my youth. Arthur’s face turned ashen. “Audrey…” His hands trembled uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I—” More and more blood flowed, pooling on the floor. Strangely, I felt no pain, only a dull ache in my eyes. He scooped me up in a panic. After a quick, makeshift clean-up, he drove me to the hospital. His hands gripped the steering wheel, shaking the entire way. He drove at top speed, straight to the emergency room, only to find Scarlett on duty. He frowned. “Get someone else.” Scarlett shrugged, a playful pout on her lips. “Sorry, Dr. Blackwood. I’m the only one free right now.” Arthur was about to say more, but I cut him off. I pointed at Scarlett. “You. You do it.” My assessment of Scarlett had always been brutally honest: stupid and malicious. But I never imagined she’d be so brazen, even in front of Arthur. When she deliberately poked my wound with tweezers for the third time, Arthur shoved her away. “What the hell are you doing? Can’t you even dress a wound? How did you even get into medical school if you can’t manage basic first aid? Get out!” Scarlett’s eyes welled with tears, but Arthur ignored her. He quickly changed into surgical scrubs and prepared to treat my wound himself. 2 Arthur put me in a private room. “We need to observe you for a few days.” He handed me a glass of warm water, the pills resting in the bottle cap. “The wound might get infected. You need to be extra careful these next few days…” He rambled on and on. I didn’t respond. His voice softened. “I’ll get you those cinnamon rolls you love, with some herbal tea. How about it?” Seeing I still didn’t react, he stood for a moment, then turned and left. When he returned, he carried a tray with warm pastries, a light broth, and a box of sliced fruit. “Careful, it’s hot.” He blew on a piece of pastry before offering it to my lips. I took a small bite. No point in punishing my own stomach. Footsteps echoed in the hallway. A few doctors in white coats stopped at my door. The one in front peeked in and chuckled. “Well, well, Dr. Blackwood, you’re here earlier than all of us!” Arthur’s ears turned a faint red. He pursed his lips. “Heard you pulled some strings to get a private operating room for a… family member last night,” another colleague teased, winking at him. “Isn’t that against regulations?” Despite knowing it was a joke, Arthur explained earnestly, “Everyone was busy yesterday. It was an emergency, and I had to make a judgment call. But if the hospital wants to investigate, I’ll cooperate fully.” The others burst into laughter, then, understanding the unspoken hint, discreetly left. Arthur stood there, head down, ears crimson, not daring to look at me. He was like this the first time he told me he loved me. Like this the first time he held my hand. Like this when he said “I do” at our wedding. Those days felt so good. So good they seemed like another lifetime. I closed my eyes and burrowed deeper into the blankets. He called my name a few times. When I didn’t answer, he simply sat beside me, guarding the forgotten broth. Just as I was drifting into a hazy sleep, I heard someone push open the door. A cheerful voice bubbled in. “Dr. Blackwood, I’ve come to apologize to Audrey.” “Yesterday really wasn’t on purpose. I was just so nervous. With you watching, Dr. Blackwood, my hands were shaking.” I squinted through a gap in the blankets toward the sound. I saw Arthur grabbing her arm, trying to usher her out. “Who told you to come in?” “The door was open, wasn’t it?” She took another step closer, almost pressing against his chest. “And I really want to apologize… You were so harsh with me yesterday, I cried all night when I got home.” As she spoke, she lifted her hand, her fingertips subtly brushing the name tag on Arthur’s chest. Under his white lab coat, he wore a thin, dark grey shirt today. “Scarlett.” Arthur’s voice was low, a warning. “Hmm?” She leaned in even closer, her lips almost touching his ear, whispering conspiratorially, “Dr. Blackwood, your heart is beating so fast…” I pushed myself up in bed. “Perhaps the two of you would prefer to take this outside?” I suggested, my voice flat. “Or I could leave and give you some privacy.” Arthur abruptly pushed Scarlett away. She stumbled back a couple of steps and landed hard on the floor. “Arthur, you—” Her eyes instantly welled up. “Get out.” Arthur’s voice was chillingly cold. Scarlett scrambled to her feet, glared at me, then clutched her face and ran out. Arthur stood there, his back to me. His shoulders rose and fell a few times before he finally turned around. “Audrey, I…” “Apologies. Did I interrupt your little rendezvous with your mistress?” I lay back down, turning my back to him. He stood for a long time. Then his phone vibrated. He didn’t answer the first time. On the fourth, he picked up. “Hello?” A muffled sob came through the receiver, broken and clear in the quiet room. “…I’ve been hit… that old man on the scooter… he won’t let me go… Dr. Blackwood, I’m scared…” Arthur remained silent. “Could you… could you come? Just by the back entrance of the hospital… please…” The sobs grew louder, punctuated by a man’s angry shouting in the background. Arthur silently hung up, then glanced at me. He walked to the edge of my bed and murmured, “Audrey?” “I’m just stepping out. I’ll be back soon. She’s a colleague, after all…” As he spoke, his phone vibrated again in his pocket. He ignored it. Then I heard the soft click of the doorknob. Ten minutes later, I pulled out my IV and discharged myself. The wound on my knee hadn’t healed yet. But a little pain meant nothing now. 3 As I walked towards the artificial lake, I saw them. Arthur was supporting Scarlett, her body half-slumped into his. Her right hand rested on his shoulder, while her left pressed against his waist, her fingertips tracing the upper edge of his belt buckle, stroking it. Arthur’s free hand made a move to pull her away. But Scarlett was quicker. Her fingers slipped, burrowing into his palm, intertwining with his. He stiffened, but he didn’t pull away. I stopped dead. Suddenly, as if sensing my presence, Scarlett turned her head. She whispered something into Arthur’s ear. He nodded, released her hand, and turned to walk towards the outpatient building. Scarlett remained where she was. Only when he was out of earshot did she walk towards me. “Audrey, you’re discharged? Why didn’t you ask Dr. Blackwood to see you off?” I ignored her. She caught up to me. I glanced at her ankle, which she had supposedly twisted. She shrugged, unfazed. “You know, he helped me all the way, and his hand never left me.” She tilted her head, her eyes curving into a smile. “How could a surgeon like him not tell if my ankle was really sprained?” “He held me so tight, though. Don’t you think he cares about me?” “But I understand you.” She sighed, feigning sympathy. “After so many years, you two probably don’t have any passion left, just habit, right?” “Are you finished?” I stopped walking. “Oh, are you angry?” She covered her mouth, giggling. “There’s no man in the world who doesn’t stray. You can’t expect him to stay faithful to you forever. But I do admire you, being able to turn a blind eye like this…” “Scarlett.” I cut her off. “Do you know what the most pathetic thing about you is?” Her smile froze. “You have to resort to such contemptible tactics to win a man who doesn’t love you.” She suddenly grabbed my wrist. “What do you mean?” “Exactly what I said.” I shook her off. “Let go.” I pulled my hand back forcefully, and she stumbled. Instinctively, she pushed me. I fell backwards towards the artificial lake. I clung to her tightly, and the momentum pulled us both into the icy water. The surface was partially frozen, and the splash was loud, drawing many eyes. Including Arthur, who had just returned. He hadn’t seen Scarlett push me. So, from his perspective, I had tried to push Scarlett in, and she had pulled me in with her. Arthur quickly pulled her out. Scarlett was soaked, her nurse’s uniform plastered to her body, shivering from the cold. She collapsed into Arthur’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “Dr. Blackwood…” She burrowed desperately into his embrace, even unbuttoning his shirt. Arthur said nothing, his eyes fixed on me. I’d seen that look before. The same cold, disappointed, impatient look he’d given me every time I’d made a scene over the past two years. “Audrey,” he said, his voice deep and stern. “This is a person’s life.” “If you have a problem, take it out on me. Don’t vent your anger on others.” I didn’t bother to argue. I reached out, bracing myself against the muddy bank, trying to stand. But Scarlett, who had supposedly fainted, suddenly slipped. Her shoe, as if guided by an unseen force, brutally kicked the side of my knee, right where the wound was. My grip loosened, and I tumbled back into the lake. Arthur, meanwhile, frantically scooped up Scarlett and rushed towards the outpatient building. This fall was much worse. The back of my head hit the ice, and my vision went black for a few seconds. The frigid water flooded my nasal cavity, choking me. I struggled to the surface. He never once looked back. The water wasn’t deep, only reaching my chest when I stood. But after two attempts, my right leg wouldn’t bear any weight. Every movement sent a blinding pain through me. In the end, it was the cleaning lady who found me. By the time she pulled me out with her mop handle, I was too numb to speak. My lips were purple, my fingers so stiff I couldn’t clench them. “Oh, the poor thing…” The woman draped her jacket over me. “How did you fall in? Where’s your family?” I shook my head. The moment I stood up, a searing cramp tore through my lower abdomen. My vision swam, and I passed out.

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My husband, Alec, and I had been married for three years, and he insisted on splitting every single cost down to the last kilowatt of electricity. The day I found out I was pregnant, he calmly pulled out a calculator. “Audrey, pregnancy expenses will be fifty-fifty. After the baby is born, if you choose to breastfeed, you’ll need to compensate me for my lost work hours. You’d be monopolizing a shared household resource.” I trembled with rage, tears blurring my vision. He handed me a tissue. “Don’t cry. That’s two cents a tissue. I’ll add it to your tab.” I burst out laughing, a hollow, bitter sound, and then, right there in front of him, I booked an abortion. … I stared at the numbers, a dry, bitter laugh catching in my throat. With a flick of my wrist, I screenshot it, saving it. This nauseating message was the final epitaph for any lingering illusions I had about him, about this marriage. I ignored him, hailing a cab straight to the hospital and checking into gynecology. Alec probably thought I was just throwing a tantrum. He sent a new message. Not comfort, not concern, but an Excel spreadsheet. [Monthly Household Expenses]. In the notes, he’d written: “You exceeded your shower time by 5 minutes recently. Water bill increase: 15%.” The words stung my eyes. I turned off my phone. In the hospital corridor, expectant mothers sat around me, their husbands doting on them. Their faces were radiant with unconcealed joy. The men handed them water, peeled oranges and brought them to their lips, constantly checking on their comfort. “Audrey.” The nurse called my name. I walked into the consulting room alone. The doctor looked at my examination results, then up at me. “Where’s the family? We need a family member’s signature for the procedure.” I forced a smile, one uglier than a cry, my voice devoid of warmth. “He’s dead.” The doctor paused, then didn’t press for details. Before signing the consent form, a strange impulse made me want to give him one last chance. I dialed Alec’s number. The phone rang for a long time before he answered. The background was noisy, and a cloying female voice drifted through. “Alec, darling, who is it? Come help me with this project proposal, please.” The voice was sickly sweet. It belonged to Scarlett, his idealized first love, who had just returned from abroad. Alec’s impatient voice came through the receiver. “Audrey? I’m in the middle of a multi-million-dollar deal. What do you want now?” My hand, gripping the pen, trembled violently, the pen’s shaft almost snapping under my fingers. “I’m about to have surgery, and you…” “Handle that minor abortion yourself. Don’t interrupt my important business,” he cut me off, his voice laced with contempt. “A mature adult should know how to manage their own body and emotions.” “And remember to get a receipt. Otherwise, I won’t reimburse my half.” The call ended. Listening to the busy signal, a sudden realization hit me: my three years of marriage had been a colossal joke. My chest heaved. When I opened my eyes again, all hesitation was gone. I signed my name on the surgical consent form, each stroke deliberate and firm. Two hours later, the nurse wheeled me out of the operating room, utterly drained. She handed me a medical waste disposal slip, detailing the disposal of the embryonic tissue. I picked up the paper, still bearing my bloodstain, and with my last reserves of strength, snapped a photo. I sent it to Alec. “Your half? The hospital disposed of it as medical waste. Disposal fee is $50. Transfer me $25.” He replied instantly. “You actually went through with it?” “Audrey, you unilaterally destroyed a shared family asset of incalculable value. We’ll settle this score thoroughly when you get back!” I dragged my aching body back to our so-called home. A cold, dark room greeted me. Alec hadn’t returned. I opened the fridge, looking for something to eat. My half of the fridge was empty. His half, however, was locked shut with a small combination lock. The blood in my veins turned to ice. This was my husband, on the day I miscarried, terrified I might eat one of his eggs. I ordered takeout, a bowl of hot soup. The moment I placed the order, Alec’s message arrived. “You ordered takeout? You’ll be responsible for 80% of the takeout waste disposal fee. I don’t eat takeout, so I won’t generate that trash.” I was too weak to reply. The soup arrived slightly cold. I took two sips, and my stomach churned. The soup, mixed with bile, spilled onto the cold floor. I collapsed onto the sofa, mindlessly scrolling through my social media. One post caught my eye, a sharp stab to my heart. It was from Scarlett. “First day back in the city, thanks to Alec for the welcome dinner! The King Crab was amazing~” Accompanying the caption was a photo of a cracked crab leg. In the background, a woman’s hand was conspicuously visible. On her wrist was a Fendi watch, worth hundreds of thousands. I clicked on the full image, my gaze fixed on that watch. Last year, on my birthday, I had seen the same watch in a boutique and loved it. I wanted to buy it, but Alec pulled me away, righteously declaring, “Married couples should be rational consumers. This money would be better saved as a family emergency fund.” Now, his supposed “cash flow problems” had vanished, reappearing on his idealized first love’s wrist. Meanwhile, I, his lawful wife, had just miscarried his child and couldn’t even stomach a warm meal. I felt no pain, couldn’t cry. My chest was hollow, filled only with cold. I stood up and walked, step by painful step, to his study. I began to search through his computer and filing cabinets. Since he loved keeping tabs so much, I would help him settle the real scores. Late into the night, the lock turned. Alec was home. He carried the heavy scent of perfume, not mine, but the one Scarlett always wore. He noticed my pale face, but offered no concern. Instead, he frowned. “You were home today. Why isn’t the floor swept? We can skip the cleaning service tomorrow. You can do it.” I let out a cold laugh, looking up at him. “How was Scarlett’s King Crab? Was it delicious?” He froze, then bristled, defensive. “That was a client dinner, reimbursed by the company. Audrey, can you stop being so unreasonable?” “I had a miscarriage,” I stated calmly. A flicker of discomfort crossed his face, but he quickly reverted to his cold, detached demeanor. “Your miscarriage was a unilateral decision. The physical toll it took on you is your own responsibility, not mine.” He pulled a printed list from his briefcase and slapped it on the table. “This is a recommended list of nutritional supplements for your recovery. I’ve already compared prices by brand and quantity. You can purchase them yourself.” “Remember, personal expenses. I’m not paying.” The next day, I dragged my still-recovering body to the kitchen to brew myself some herbal tea. Alec followed, like an overseer, his eyes glued to the gas meter. “That pot of water has been boiling for nearly twenty minutes. I’ll note down the gas fee. It’ll be deducted from your account at the end of the month.” I looked at his handsome but cruel face and found it utterly ridiculous. Right in front of him, I opened my banking app and transferred him $0.01. “Here. Keep the change.” His face darkened. “Audrey, what is that supposed to mean?” “Nothing. A tip.” He was speechless with rage, slamming the door as he left. Soon after, my phone vibrated. A message from Scarlett. She pretended to have sent it to the wrong person. “Thanks, darling, for letting me borrow Alec for the day. I absolutely adore this handbag. It’s just so expensive, I feel bad making Alec spend so much.” Below was an image: an Hermes box, next to a receipt. I zoomed in. The total was $120,000. Almost simultaneously, I received a bank alert. Alec’s supplementary credit card had just made a $120,000 purchase at a luxury department store. That supplementary card was one I’d given him, with a shared limit, for his so-called “business entertaining.” It had become his ATM for buying handbags for his idealized first love. In three years of marriage, his most expensive gift to me was a necklace he bought on sale for $999. The money even came from our shared household account. But for Scarlett, just back in the country, it was a six-figure handbag. That evening, Alec returned home. I tossed my phone in front of him. “A $120,000 handbag. Explain.” He glanced at it, not a hint of remorse on his face. “I lent it to her. She’ll pay me back later. Besides, she’s a young woman, just back in the country, unfamiliar with everything. What’s wrong with me helping out a friend?” His blatant double standards infuriated me. “Then I miscarried, and I’m not well. Why don’t you help me out?” His answer revealed his true nature. “You’re my wife, my partner in this household. You should be capable of independently managing risks. She’s different. She’s fragile, she needs protection.” I looked at his self-righteous expression and suddenly lost the urge to cry. It became clear. In Alec’s mind, I, his wife, was merely a partner for splitting costs and sharing risks. His idealized first love, however, was a precious treasure to be doted on without regard for cost. I said nothing more. I quietly returned to my room and closed the door. The post-operative infection hit swiftly and violently. In the middle of the night, I woke up shivering from a deep chill, my body burning like a furnace, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. The thermometer read 104.4°F (40.2°C). I nudged Alec awake, my voice as weak as a whisper. “Alec, take me to the hospital… I feel terrible. I can’t…” He stirred, annoyed, rolling over and glancing at his phone. The glow of the screen highlighted his furrowed brow. I caught a glimpse of a message from Scarlett: “Alec, darling, it’s thundering outside. I’m so scared, I can’t sleep.” He immediately sat up and began dressing. “You can take a cab yourself. I have an urgent matter to attend to.” I used my last ounce of strength to grasp his sleeve. “I might die.” He recoiled in disgust, pulling his arm away with such force that I tumbled off the bed. “Audrey, stop with the melodrama for sympathy. A simple abortion can’t kill you. Can you just be mature?” “Your irresponsible behavior is wasting family rest resources and severely impacting my work efficiency tomorrow!” The door slammed shut, cutting off the sound of his retreating footsteps. I lay on the cold floor, my consciousness fading. I struggled to reach my phone and dialed 911. I next woke up in the emergency room. White ceiling, acrid smell of disinfectant. A doctor was on the phone with a family member, his tone harsh. “Are you Audrey’s husband? The patient is experiencing severe post-operative hemorrhaging and urgently needs a blood transfusion and surgery. Get over here and pay the fees and sign the consent form!” From the other end of the line, Alec’s voice came through, colder than ice. “She’s an adult. She’s responsible not only for her own actions but also for her own bills.” “This expense is not within our joint household budget. I won’t pay.” The doctor was clearly infuriated and put him on speaker. Alec’s voice echoed clearly throughout the emergency room. I heard a nearby patient’s family member gasp, then whisper, “That animal.” “Furthermore, this infection is due to her individual constitution, an individual accident. According to our prenuptial agreement, personal accident expenses are borne by the individual.” I lay on the hospital bed, semi-conscious, listening to his words, and the last tear slid from my eye. Not for him, but for my own blindness over these three years. Well done, Alec. You finally, with your own hands, killed the last flicker of love I held for you. When I was fully conscious again, my best friend, Julia, sat by my bedside, wiping away tears. Seeing my eyes open, she immediately gripped my hand, trembling with rage. “Audrey, listen to this! Is this animal even human?” She pressed play on her phone, and Alec’s bone-chillingly cold voice filled the room. “…This expense is not within our joint household budget. I won’t pay…” It turned out, Julia had rushed to the emergency room and arrived just as the doctor put Alec on speaker. She, quick-witted, recorded the entire conversation. In the recording, the murmurs and gasps of other patients’ families were clearly audible. It was perfect evidence, enough to nail Alec to the pillory of public shame. Julia cried, “I’m putting this online! Everyone needs to see what kind of monster he is!” I pulled out the IV needle from my arm and shook my head at her. My face was devoid of color, my eyes chillingly calm. “No,” I took her phone, my voice hoarse, but with a thrill of impending vengeance. “The internet is too cheap a punishment for him.” I retrieved the recording, then deftly forwarded it to two people: Alec’s mother and his direct superior. Julia leaned in for a closer look, gasping. “Audrey, you…” I watched the ‘sent successfully’ notification, then forced a pale smile. I said to her, word by word, “Contact the best lawyer you can find. Then, the show begins.”

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1 It was the celebration party for Cole’s third consecutive Southport Racing Championship victory. It was also the night he had promised to propose to me. Instead, with a bright smile on his face, he pulled a petite, shrinking girl into the spotlight. “Let me introduce the real hero of the night,” Cole announced, his voice booming over the music. “If Sienna hadn’t guided me through my rehab training, I would never have returned to the track.” He pulled her closer, his arm draped casually around her waist. “From today onwards, she will be my exclusive physical therapist. The twenty-four-seven kind of companionship, you know?” My eyes widened in shock. Cole caught my gaze, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. The crowd erupted into rowdy cheers, though a few people shot me teasing, sympathetic looks. “Twenty-four-seven? Won’t Cindy have a problem with that?” someone shouted. Cole just laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “Cindy is very generous. Aren’t you, babe?” I stood there, frozen in silence. Halfway through the party, I pulled him aside. He reeked of expensive alcohol. “Cole, stop this. You need to stop messing around.” He reached out, his fingers gripping my chin. He let out a dark chuckle. “What? You’re allowed to have your male best friend, but I can’t have a female one?” … Fury flickered in my eyes. “That is enough.” “I have told you countless times. Gabriel is just my brother.” “Brother.” Cole chewed on the word slowly, his eyes darkening with something unreadable. “Sounds so intimate, doesn’t it?” His grip tightened slightly. “Cindy, you barely ever call me ‘babe’ anymore. You always claim you’re too shy for pet names, yet you seem perfectly comfortable being so sweet with someone else.” My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe such insulting words were coming out of his mouth. This was the man who used to call me his innocent angel, untouched by the world. Whenever anyone cursed around me in the past, he would instinctively cover my ears and whisper, Cindy, don’t listen. A sharp pain pierced my chest. Seeing the redness rimming my eyes, Cole froze. A flash of regret crossed his face. He opened his mouth to say something. But in the next second, my phone started ringing. The name Gabriel flashed relentlessly on the screen. I turned away from Cole immediately and answered it. Behind me, I heard a self-deprecating scoff. “I’m such a damn fool.” His heavy footsteps faded into the background noise of the party. “Cindy? Is everything okay?” Gabriel asked, instantly picking up on the tremor in my voice. I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump of acidity in my throat. “I’m fine. How is my mom?” “Her condition is stable for now, but she’ll need another round of chemo. Don’t worry, Cindy. I will do absolutely everything in my power to make sure Aunt Sarah recovers.” I murmured a soft thank you and hung up. Six months ago, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. I ran into Gabriel at the hospital by pure chance. My mother had once been married to his father, making us step-siblings for a brief period. After their divorce, we lost touch. I never expected him to become an oncologist. For the past year, Cole had been suffering from severe PTSD after a horrific crash on the track. I didn’t want to add to his burden, so I kept my mother’s illness a secret. Because of a few late-night calls from Gabriel, Cole became convinced I was cheating. He started making snide remarks, turning paranoid. He even started showering other women with attention just to get back at me. Now, he had overcome his trauma and won the championship. I decided it was time to tell him the truth. I took a deep breath, calming my racing heart. Suddenly, a loud commotion drew my attention to the other side of the room. I looked over just in time to see Cole gently wiping red wine off Sienna’s dress with a napkin. He then looked up, glaring fiercely at a woman holding a wine glass. “An accident? Are you blind?” Cole snarled. The woman stamped her foot in frustration. Sienna waved her hands frantically, her voice trembling. “I’m fine, really. I can clean it myself.” She grabbed the napkin, dabbing at her dress. She said she was fine, but huge tears began rolling down her cheeks. Cole immediately panicked. “Hey, don’t cry. I’ll make her pay for this, okay?” He stepped forward, his eyes cold as ice as he stared the woman down. “No one bullies my people and gets away with it.” The woman panicked. “It wasn’t me! She bumped into me!” When Cole got angry, he lost all sense of reason. Afraid he would cause a scene that would ruin his career, I rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “Cole, calm down. Don’t make this a big deal.” He violently yanked his arm out of my grasp. His voice was absolute zero. “Since when is my business any of yours?” My hand hung suspended in the air. The entire room fell dead silent. 2 Everyone in Cole’s inner circle knew how much he adored me. Back in high school, we lived on opposite sides of the city. One winter night, I casually mentioned over the phone how much I was craving warm cinnamon rolls. He drove across the entire city in the freezing cold just to bring them to me. When he arrived, shivering but beaming, he pulled a warm paper bag from inside his leather jacket. “Almost burned my chest off keeping these warm for you.” Seeing my tears, he panicked. “Cindy, why are you crying? I was joking, they weren’t hot at all!” When it came time for college applications, he handed the decision to me. “Wherever Cindy wants me to go, I’ll go. You own me for life.” His friends used to tease him, calling him my loyal puppy. He just smiled, completely unbothered. “It’s my absolute honor.” The memory burned. The back of my hand, where he had slapped it away, stung. My chest felt tight, as if the air was being sucked out of the room. I lowered my hand and stared at him, my voice steady. “Cole, I’m saying this one last time. Stop making a scene.” He didn’t even glance at me. He took Sienna’s hand, stepped forward, and addressed the terrified woman. “Get on your knees, apologize to Sienna, and I might let this slide.” Cole wasn’t just the hottest star in the racing world. He was the sole heir to the wealthy family behind the circuit. This woman couldn’t afford to cross him. Humiliated, she dropped to her knees, apologized to a crying Sienna, and ran off in tears. Cole patted Sienna’s head with sickening tenderness. “Don’t cry. It’s no big deal.” Whispers began to spread through the crowd like wildfire. “He really seems to like that therapist.” “Is the golden couple finally over?” “To be fair, Sienna stuck by him through his worst year. Hard times reveal true love.” “Yeah, I haven’t seen Cindy do a single thing for him lately.” Cole heard every word. He raised an eyebrow at me, his eyes saying: See? Everyone agrees with me. I sighed. “Cole, we need to talk. I have something to tell you.” Seeing the seriousness on my face, he shrugged and started walking toward me. But Sienna suddenly grabbed his arm. She clutched her stomach, her face turning pale. Cole’s demeanor shifted instantly. He caught her as she stumbled. She whispered something in his ear, and without a second of hesitation, he scooped her up in his arms. “Cole!” I shouted after him. He ignored me completely, striding out of the venue as if he were deaf. My heart felt like it was being plunged into a bucket of ice water. Cold and suffocating. The sympathetic looks from the crowd felt like slaps across my face. Cole used to say, The world is big, but Cindy is the biggest. Even if you wanted my life, it’s yours. Yet now, he was leaving me behind for someone else. Early the next morning, Cole returned home, looking exhausted. He spotted me sitting on the living room sofa. He paused, noticing the dark circles under my eyes. “Didn’t sleep at all?” “Cole, we need to talk.” “Fine. Talk. What is it?” He collapsed onto the opposite sofa, his gaze burning into me. “You’ve misunderstood everything between me and Gabriel. I’ve been in contact with him because my mother is sick, and he’s her doctor.” I poured my heart out, explaining everything in detail. After a long silence, he tilted his head. “That’s it?” His reaction was not at all what I expected. My throat went dry. “You…” “I thought it was something important,” he chuckled. “By the way, I have some news too. I’ve decided to let Sienna move in. As my therapist, she needs to monitor my health twenty-four-seven.” He waved a hand toward the hallway. “Give her your room. You can take the guest bedroom.” I frowned, standing up abruptly. “Cole, what do you mean…” “This showed up in my email,” he interrupted, his voice turning cold. A stack of photos was thrown onto the coffee table. They were pictures of Gabriel and me meeting privately. Sitting in a coffee shop, Gabriel’s hand near my cheek. Walking down the street, Gabriel’s arm around my shoulder. And finally, sitting in a car, Gabriel appearing to kiss me. My pupils dilated. “It’s not what it looks like, Cole. You have to listen to me…” He stood up, grabbing the back of my head. His grip was so tight his knuckles turned white. “Your excuses are pathetic, Cindy. If you want to play the bad girl, you should take some lessons.” His lips curled into a cruel smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not breaking up with you. If you want to play games, I’ll play with you.” 3 Sienna really moved in. In the house Cole and I had shared for five years, the scent of another woman began to linger. When we first moved in, Cole gave me the master bedroom with the best sunlight. He had said, Our Cindy deserves the best of everything. Now, I was kicked out, and the room was given to Sienna. With a simple claim of being “allergic to pollen,” Sienna had Cole throw away all the flowers I had carefully cultivated for years. Sienna loved spicy food. Suddenly, every meal on the table was loaded with chili peppers, completely ignoring the fact that I couldn’t handle spicy food at all. My best friend was furious when I told her. “Why haven’t you dumped him yet?” “Cole just misunderstands me,” I replied, a bitter taste in my mouth. I firmly believed he was doing this purely out of spite. It was just like when his mother abandoned him for another family. Years later, no matter how much she begged him to visit her, he refused. Even on her deathbed, Cole never showed up. He was a man of extremes. During this time, I was quietly investigating who took those photos. The photographer was incredibly opportunistic. Gabriel brushing a bug out of my hair was framed as him caressing my face. Gabriel pulling me out of the way of a speeding scooter was framed as him embracing me. The most ridiculous one was the “kiss” in the car. Gabriel was just leaning over to check the side mirror, but the angle made it look like a kiss. The motive was clear. Someone wanted to destroy my relationship with Cole. Following the digital footprints, I finally found the person who hired the photographer. I never expected it to be Sienna. I found them sitting in a cafe. Sienna was taking something from the man’s hands. She smiled, a malicious glint in her eyes. “I want more photos. As many as possible. I want Cole to completely loathe that bitch Cindy.” In that moment, fury eclipsed my reason. I marched up to their table. “So it was you who hired someone to stalk me!” Sienna paused, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Cindy? What are you talking about?” I looked down at the flash drive she had just taken. I lunged forward to grab it, but she pulled back quickly. “Cindy, this is mine! What are you doing!” In the struggle, Sienna fell to the floor. Suddenly, a furious roar echoed through the cafe. A strong force shoved me aside. My lower back slammed hard into the sharp corner of a nearby table. The blinding pain brought instant tears to my eyes. “Cindy, have you lost your mind!” Cole stood protectively in front of Sienna, glaring at me with raw anger. “Why are you bullying Sienna!” I swallowed the pain, looking at Cole with red-rimmed eyes. My voice shook with grievance. “She hired someone to stalk me! I just heard them talking about it!” Cole frowned, looking back at Sienna for an explanation. Sienna handed the flash drive to Cole, her eyes welling up. “I didn’t do anything. This is the photographer I hired for you. He took pictures of your last race for the club’s website.” The photographer immediately chimed in, opening his laptop. “You can check the drive right now, sir. We aren’t lying. This crazy lady just showed up and accused me of stalking her.” Cole plugged the drive into the laptop. The screen lit up with high-quality photos of his race cars. I was speechless. “But I heard them talking about me just a second ago. Cole, you have to believe me.” “Believe you? Why on earth would I believe you?” “Because you’re too busy sneaking around with other men?” Cole’s gaze swept over me, filled with contempt. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried perfectly to the onlookers. Mocking, curious glances shot toward me like arrows. I felt as if I were standing naked in the middle of the room, swallowed by intense shame. I had been in a situation like this before. When I first started my writing career, a senior author falsely accused me of plagiarizing her work. No one dared to offend the industry giant, so they all pointed their fingers at me. Public opinion crushed me. At a prominent publisher’s gala, everyone looked at me with disgust. Just as I was about to flee in tears, Cole arrived like a knight in shining armor. He slammed a stack of evidence on the table for everyone to see. He pulled me into his arms, his voice firm and unwavering. “Cindy did not plagiarize. She is the most dedicated writer I have ever met, and I will not allow anyone to slander her!” That night, he fought the world for me. But today, he was the one pushing me into the fire. My heart contracted violently. For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

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Holden Corfield’s tablet was broken. I tried our wedding date three times, and each time it flashed an error. I had no choice but to call him. “Holden, take your tablet in for repairs tomorrow.” A mischievous, sweet voice answered from the other end. “Mrs. Corfield? Oh, I’m so sorry! I was playing games in Mr. Corfield’s office yesterday.” “I accidentally changed the password to my birthday.” I stood in silence for two seconds, then hung up. When Holden returned home that evening, I tossed a divorce agreement onto the table in front of him. He pressed his fingers to his temples, clearly exasperated. “Why are you quarreling with a young girl? She’s immature, but are you going to be immature too?” I let out a cold laugh. “Then you can live with the ‘mature’ one.” … Holden bent down, picking up the divorce agreement from the floor. Without even a glance, he tore it to shreds and tossed the pieces into the waste bin. His gaze, when it finally landed on me, remained utterly cold. “Ivy, you’re becoming increasingly unreasonable.” There wasn’t a hint of a smile in my eyes. “Holden, I don’t want to discuss this with you any further. Our marriage was always an arrangement, without a foundation of love. Going our separate ways amicably is the only path forward.” As I spoke, my heart felt as though it were being pricked by countless invisible needles, a dense, throbbing ache. Holden and I were indeed an arranged match, but over five years, I had fallen for him without realizing it. But what did love matter now? This wasn’t a one-time offense; it was a pattern. If I pretended nothing happened this time, what about next time? And the time after that? Was I to live a lifetime of constant compromise and hurt? Rosie White’s words today were an undeniable provocation. Everyone in Newhaven knew that Holden disliked women getting too close to him, or anyone touching his personal belongings. When Holden was twenty, the housekeeper’s daughter, refusing to believe the rumors, pulled off his tie while he was dead drunk after a business dinner, hoping to seduce him and secure her place by getting pregnant. The result was two broken hands and banishment from the Corfield estate, never to be seen again. Not only that, Holden had severe germophobia and a strong sense of personal boundaries. For years, I had been the sole exception. Only I could freely touch his personal items: his tablet, his phone, his laptop. Even if I wanted to look through his chat history, he would only sigh, a fond, helpless expression on his face, and gently ruffle my hair. He’d softly tell me not to stay up too late, to get some rest. But today, that privilege no longer belonged to me. I had received a dangerous signal, and I knew I had to cut ties before I became even more deeply entrenched. A suffocating silence spread through the living room. Holden and I faced each other in a silent standoff. He knew my temper. I couldn’t tolerate deception. On our wedding night, I had told him clearly: if he ever found someone he truly loved, I would step aside and never cling on. At the time, he had held me tightly, with a force so great it felt as if he wanted to meld me into his very being. He said we were so compatible, like a match made in heaven. He claimed that even without love, we could grow old together. He didn’t mind touching me. And I felt the same. Rather than spending my life with some useless, philandering socialite, I preferred him as my husband. For five years, Holden and I were the envy of society, a perfect couple. All the joint ventures between the Corfield and Rivers families flourished, yielding impressive profits. Three months ago, on Holden’s birthday, I proposed having a child. Holden traced the tears on my face—a mix of pleasure and pain—his expression moved. “Ivy, are you truly sure?” I whimpered, lifting my weak, aching arm to wrap around Holden’s neck. Even now, I remember that moment clearly. A flicker of light danced in the dark, almond-shaped depths of Holden’s eyes. The second before I succumbed to exhaustion and sleep, something warm dripped onto my face. Then I was pulled into a wide, warm embrace. Holden’s voice was deep, gentle: “Ivy, thank you.” My memories fractured, and I forced myself to forget those beautiful moments. Swallowing the bitter surge in my heart, I gathered my resolve and reiterated, “Holden, I want a divorce.” Several long minutes passed, but Holden remained unresponsive. I couldn’t stand the silent treatment, so I turned and went upstairs to pack my things. Half an hour later, I was pulling my suitcase toward the door when Holden finally reacted, blocking my path with his arm. “Ivy Rivers, you want to divorce me over such a trivial matter?” It had been a long time since Holden had called me by my full name. I took a deep breath and met his gaze. “Yes.” Holden’s brows furrowed deeper, lost in thought. Perhaps remembering the child I carried, his tone softened slightly. “Ivy, I can explain what happened today.” Even though I had no intention of giving Holden another chance, I still wanted to hear what kind of absurd excuse he would offer. “The young lady’s proposal was approved by the board. She didn’t want a bonus; she just told me she hadn’t played games in a while and wanted to use my tablet for a few rounds. I agreed.” He paused, looking directly into my eyes. “The password has already been changed back, Ivy. This is a very small matter. I’ve already reprimanded her, and she’s deeply remorseful. She even said she wants to come over personally to apologize to you.” “Please, be the bigger person and don’t make things difficult for a young girl fresh out of college. I promise you, aside from necessary work, I will have no further contact with her.” I seized on the critical point. “Holden, are you already defending her? Do you see me as some malicious, jealous shrew? You think you two are innocent, and I’m just being unreasonable, clinging to a baseless accusation?” “Ivy, that’s not what I meant.” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “Holden, no matter what you think, I am divorcing you. As for the child, I haven’t decided yet, but don’t worry, even if I have him, I won’t use him to threaten you.” My words were final. I pushed past Holden and walked out the villa’s front door. The staff stood frozen, not daring to intervene. I hailed a cab back to the Rivers’ family home. I expected my parents to support my decision once I explained the situation, but the opposite was true. My father chain-smoked several cigarettes. “Ivy, it’s not that your mother and I disagree with your divorce from Holden. It’s just that the Rivers Corporation still relies on Holden’s support. If you two divorce, Holden will inevitably withdraw his investment, and then our company will be on the brink of collapse.” My mother, wearing an expensive face mask, accused me of being ungrateful. “We’ve seen how well Holden treats you. He’s a good man worth spending your life with. Don’t be impulsive and hand him over to another woman.” “Even if, by some stretch, Holden did have feelings for another woman, you would have to endure it, wouldn’t you? In our circles, there’s not much true love. Being married to Holden is a blessing you earned over lifetimes.” Ultimately, it all came down to “interests.” For years, my father’s poor management had brought the Rivers Corporation to the brink of bankruptcy multiple times, and each time, Holden had stepped in to help. I thought I would be upset, that I would yell and scream. But I didn’t. I looked at my parents calmly and asked, “So, what do you suggest I do?” My father extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray. “I’ve already texted Holden. He’ll be here soon. Go back and live a good life with him. Don’t keep running back to your family; people will gossip.” My mother chimed in, “Ivy, listen to your father. We wouldn’t hurt you. Also, your brother is interested in a plot of land owned by Corfield Corporation. Remember to mention it to Holden and ask him to make it convenient.” Yes. The reason I became a pawn in an arranged marriage was because I had a younger brother. Holden arrived quickly. His usually immaculate hair was slightly disheveled, a sign of his haste. He took my hand, despite my strong resistance, and offered my parents an apologetic smile. “Father, Mother, it’s my fault. I upset Ivy.” My father instructed the butler to prepare the finest tea for Holden. My mother busied herself in the kitchen, insisting Holden stay for dinner. And I became the superfluous one. No one considered my feelings. And so, I returned to Holden’s villa. Before we got into the car, my mother pulled me aside, mysteriously handing me a small pink bottle. She said it was something good to enhance marital relations. “If a man’s heart strays, it’s not just because another woman tempted him. Often, the wife needs to examine herself. You’re pregnant now, and Holden must have needs in that area.” “Listen to your mother. This potion will not only make Holden crave you, but it won’t harm the baby.” I didn’t take the bottle she held out. Instead, I looked at her with an entirely unfamiliar expression. She was my mother, blood of my blood. But only today did I truly see her for who she was. My mother, seeing me motionless, forced the potion into my hand. On the other side, my father obsequiously offered Holden a cigarette. Holden declined. “Father, secondhand smoke isn’t good for pregnant women.” My father chuckled awkwardly. “My apologies, I wasn’t thinking.” I felt an absurd sense of unreality. After that day, Holden arranged for a therapist for me. The therapist suggested my anxieties were due to hormonal changes during pregnancy. Holden was as considerate and attentive as ever, making me doubt if that night’s argument had just been a dream. But I wasn’t fooled by the sweet facade he deliberately created. His coldness, his impatience that night, had left indelible scars on my heart. Even if the wounds healed, the occasional faint pangs would always remind me of what had happened. I couldn’t pretend everything was normal; most of the time, I gave Holden the cold shoulder. As long as I didn’t bring up divorce, Holden never got angry. He thought I had become compliant, no longer demanding my due. Unbeknownst to him, I had already booked a plane ticket to leave the country. I would leave him in a week. Leave Newhaven. And never return. I wanted nothing to do with him, or my parents. I had an abortion scheduled for tomorrow. But Holden watched me closely. Even when he went to the office, he had bodyguards follow me. I didn’t know if he was worried about me, or the child I carried. The next morning, for the first time in ages, I made Holden breakfast. He looked genuinely surprised. After all these years of marriage, I had cooked only a handful of times, let alone woken up early to prepare a beautifully presented meal to his taste. After Holden finished eating, I told him I was going for a prenatal check-up. He pulled out his phone to call. “Today’s meeting will be postponed until the afternoon.” “No need to postpone. I can go by myself.” I offered him a rare smile, helping him tie his tie. “Holden, I’m not a child. I don’t need you, nor do I need bodyguards. Go to your meeting. I’ll call you if anything happens.” Holden looked down at his perfectly tied knot, then at me. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded. Before leaving, he repeatedly reminded me to be careful. And then he added, “Ivy, come back early after your check-up. Rosie spent half her salary buying you a gift, and she’s coming to the house after work to apologize.” I lay on the cold operating table, many memories flashing through my mind. Holden pressing his face to my belly, saying he wanted to hear what the baby was doing. Holden gently massaging my swollen legs during pregnancy, saying we would only have this one child because he didn’t want me to suffer again. Going further back. Holden carrying me on his back through the snow, promising me a lifetime of devotion to only me. At that time, I jokingly asked him, “Holden, we’ve been together for so long, do you like me even a little bit?” What did Holden say? He seemed to say yes, and no, at the same time. I thought and thought, and finally remembered his exact words. He had said, “Ivy, I don’t know if I’ve fallen in love with you, but I can say for certain that you are the one I want to spend my life with. The only one. Irreplaceable.” Oh. Now, there was a replacement. Rosie White.

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On our wedding night, Cole confessed that he was a celestial warrior sent down to undergo a mortal trial, already betrothed to a celestial fiancée. He didn’t even lift my bridal veil, his voice cold and hard. “You cared for me for two years. As repayment, I can grant you two wishes.” “Aside from asking me to stay.” I clenched my fingers, peering through the red gauze at his distant, emotionless gaze. “Can you do anything? Can you bring someone back to life for me?” He let out a quiet breath, a flicker of relief crossing his face. “Your mother? Yes, I can. You two shared a deep bond; it’s only right.” I lowered my head, guilt churning in my stomach. The truth was, I lied to him. My mother was the person I hated most in the world. The one I wanted to resurrect was my husband, Liam. He had died two years ago, on the very day I saved Cole. 01 You shouldn’t pick up strangers from the side of the road. I knew that. But I still saved Cole’s life. Because he was useful. I had known for a long time that he was a celestial warrior. And I even knew his celestial fiancée. Two years ago, my husband Liam fell off a cliff and died. I buried him, my heart shattered into a million pieces. Just as I was contemplating ending my own life, heartbroken and desolate, I suddenly heard the celestial fiancée’s voice. “How did you get so badly injured…? Cole, wake up!” I gasped, quickly hiding in the tall grass to watch. Cole lay motionless on the ground, blood at the corner of his lips. His face was astonishingly handsome, so beautiful it felt sacrilegious to even look. My heart leaped into my throat. I quickly averted my gaze, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of golden light. The celestial fiancée used her divine power, and Cole slowly stirred. His voice was like clear spring water splashing over jade. “Sierra, what are you doing here?” “A mortal trial cannot be aided by external forces. Go back.” The celestial fiancée looked utterly wronged. “I was worried about you…” “Worried I might fall for a mortal woman and jeopardize our engagement to the Phoenix Clan?” Cole cut Sierra off with a mocking, increasingly cold tone. “Rest assured, celestial fiancée, I remember my mission. I will return to the celestial realm in two years.” “Now, leave.” Even from afar, I shivered, chilled by the cold aura radiating from him. Sierra persisted, unwilling to leave. “I wanted to see who would save you. What if she’s prettier than me?” Cole grew impatient. “If you don’t leave and delay the timing, and this mortal trial of love fails, our engagement will still be canceled.” “It’s only two years. Afterwards, I will grant her two wishes.” “Mortals are greedy. Once they get what they want, they likely won’t cling on.” Sierra sniffled, pouting playfully. “Alright, then. But you promise not to fall for her, no matter who charms her into marriage. And absolutely no wedding night!” “Mmm.” Cole agreed. Sierra looked at him a few more times, then reluctantly departed. After she left, Cole lay back down. He pressed his ring finger to his heart, then coughed up a mouthful of blood. My eyes widened in shock, his words echoing in my mind: “I will grant her two wishes.” This was a celestial being. Surely, he could help me bring Liam back? My heart pounded like a drum. After a moment, I gathered my courage and ran to his side. “Sir, are you alright, sir?” “This jade token will grant you free passage in and out of the Underworld.” Cole’s voice pulled my scattered thoughts back into focus. He opened his palm, and a flash of white light revealed a smooth, luminous jade token. My eyes lit up. I immediately snatched off my bridal veil. My movements were so quick that the red gauze tangled in my hair ornaments, pulling out a strand of hair. A faint smile flickered in Cole’s eyes. “So eager? It seems you miss your mother very much.” I took the jade token, tears welling up in my eyes. “Yes, I miss him dearly.” “The jade token will guide you to the Underworld. Just state her name, and a Reaper will bring your mother back to life.” He raised his hand, seemingly intending to tuck a stray lock of my hair behind my ear. I quickly turned my head, avoiding his touch. His fingers stiffened slightly, then slowly retreated. “Have you thought about your second wish?” “Wealth, power, extended lifespan.” “Just name it, and I will grant it.” I clenched the jade token in my hand, shaking my head softly. “No need. I have no other desires.” After two years together, I understood Cole somewhat. If I dared to ask for anything else, he would immediately retract the jade token and turn his back on me. Sure enough, Cole nodded, satisfied with my answer. “Ivy, you are not greedy, and you are so understanding, never making things difficult. I am truly sorry for what I’ve put you through.” I smiled bitterly. “I understand that compared to the celestial fiancée, I am insignificant. I wouldn’t dare to harbor such illusions.” The more compliant a woman, the more guilt a man feels. Hearing me, Cole sighed. “Actually, if you truly can’t bear to part with me, I could return and discuss it with Sierra, persuade her to let me take you as a concubine.” “There’s no need for that…” It was getting more absurd by the second. I twitched my lips, stood up first, and politely said, “Celestial warrior, you have undergone a mortal trial for two years. I’m sure you’re eager to return. I won’t keep you any longer.” “Perhaps you can come back and visit someday.” “Very well.” Cole nodded, giving me a deep, searching look before transforming into a streak of white light and departing. 2 The next day, news spread throughout the village that Cole had run off in the middle of the night. Aunt Martha, my neighbor, stood on the other side of the wall, raising her voice deliberately. “Did you hear? Ivy Rivers’ handsome husband ran off! I saw it myself; he was picked up by a grand retinue!” “I told you! How could such a handsome man fall for her? He must be a powerful figure from Newhaven, and Ivy Rivers just got lucky, picking him up off the street.” Aunt Sarah gasped. “He ran off on their wedding night? Doesn’t that make Ivy Rivers a deserted wife?” “Do you think someone will come for her and take her back to Newhaven in a few days?” “You two need to stop reading so many romance novels…” I smiled wryly, my voice calm, almost amused. I was a widow, and most villagers looked down on me, but they weren’t malicious. For the past two years, as I cared for Cole, they had gossiped about me finding a new lover right after my husband’s death. But no one had ever exposed the fact that I was already married. For that alone, I was grateful. “Ivy, I told you long ago that Cole didn’t care for you, but you wouldn’t listen!” Aunt Martha, producing a handful of sunflower seeds from somewhere, began cracking them. “That man, after you saved his life, did nothing all day but read books and practice sword fighting. He clearly never suffered a day in his life and treated you like a servant.” “Tell Aunt Martha the truth, is he from Newhaven?” I gave her a mysterious look. “He’s more powerful than anyone in Newhaven. He’s a celestial warrior from the heavens!” “…” Aunt Martha and Aunt Sarah fell silent, a rare occurrence. After a moment, they exchanged glances. When they looked at me again, their voices were filled with sympathy. “She must be heartbroken, lost her mind?” “Oh well, what can you do? She’s my neighbor. I’ll slaughter a hen for you to get your strength back.” I smiled softly and turned back into the house. No chicken for me. I was preparing to move. Everyone in the village knew Liam had died two years ago. If he came back to life, wouldn’t he be seen as a monster? I needed to find a distant village, where no one knew us. Over the next two days, I sold what I could, gave away what I couldn’t. Then, I packed my belongings and moved to Maplewood Village, a dozen miles away. After tidying up my new small courtyard, I pulled out the jade token Cole had given me. The jade token flashed with white light, conjuring an ethereal barrier. I looked left and right, confirming no one was around. Then, I stepped inside. 3 The Underworld was filled with chilling winds. My hand trembled as I handed Cole’s token to the Underworld Official. He glanced at it, frowning suspiciously. “This is a Celestial Warrior’s token. How did you get it? Did you steal it?” “I must report this to my superiors. I can’t just let people pass through.” “Of course, of course.” I nodded like a bobblehead, my heart pounding with suppressed excitement, and stepped to the side. He pulled out a talisman to contact Cole. “Celestial Warrior Cole, your token has appeared in the hands of a mortal woman. She wishes to revive someone. Do you grant her request?” My heart hammered in my chest, my blood rushing to my head. My face flushed with tension. Just as the Underworld Official finished his question and seemed about to move on to other duties, I bravely stepped forward and stopped him. “Sir, the Celestial Warrior hasn’t replied yet. Where are you going?” He looked annoyed. “Celestial Warrior Cole is a busy man. How can he bother himself with such a trivial matter in the Underworld? If you’re in a hurry, you can leave now.” My face froze, the boiling blood in my veins slowly turning cold. But just then, Cole’s clear, detached voice came from the talisman. Only one word. “Granted.” 4 Cole’s unusually prompt response made the Underworld Official take immediate notice. He not only released Liam’s soul at once but, without me even having to ask, crafted a physical body for him. After two years, Liam’s appearance was exactly as it had been. He still had that same look, where his eyes would crinkle in a smile the moment he saw me. Seeing his somewhat pale face, tears streamed uncontrollably down my cheeks. Before my mind could even process it, my body had already rushed into his arms. “Ivy…” He held me tightly, his voice catching. “I can’t believe we’d ever see each other again. How did you bring me back?” My body stiffened. Even though Cole and I hadn’t even held hands during our two years together, I still felt a ridiculous pang of guilt. I dared not utter Cole’s name. I only said, “I met a celestial being…” Thankfully, Liam didn’t press for details and followed me out of the Underworld. For the next few days, we were inseparable, joined at the hip. All the traditional joys of success and marriage felt insignificant compared to this. I realized now that life’s greatest joy was truly finding what you thought was lost forever. The hardships of caring for Cole over the past two years vanished like smoke. Liam was as thoughtful as ever. He wouldn’t let me do anything, keeping the house spotless. Two months passed quickly, and I still felt like I was dreaming. I was always afraid of waking up and finding him gone again. Fortunately, that never happened. However, Liam’s body was visibly weakening, and gray hairs had subtly appeared at his temples. I constantly worried, asking if he felt unwell. He simply smiled. “Everything’s fine. I just feel a bit heavier.” “But this is good enough. At least I can be by your side.” He didn’t seem to mind, but I couldn’t rest easy. I didn’t want to lose Liam again, like I had two years ago. So, I lied, telling him I was going to the city for supplies, and instead headed to Serpent’s Peak. Two years ago, when I first saved Cole, I was also very weak. Liam had just died, and even though Cole’s appearance offered a glimmer of hope, my spirits were low. Cole, perhaps fearing I might die and his mortal trial would fail, told me there was an herb on Serpent’s Peak that could replenish vital energy. I asked him, “Will you pick it for me?” He was reading at the time. He turned a page, then looked up. “No time.” He was too lazy to go, and I had no heart for it. The matter was dropped. But two years later, today, I had to retrieve that herb for Liam. He had saved me from my mother, the slave trader. For both gratitude and love, I couldn’t bear to watch him leave me again. I packed some dried provisions and walked for what felt like an eternity before reaching Serpent’s Peak. After a grueling climb to the summit, and a long search, I finally spotted the herb. Just as I reached out to pluck it, a sharp voice suddenly rang out behind me. “Stop! That’s mine!” I turned around, meeting Sierra’s furious gaze. Beside her, Cole, dressed in white, looked genuinely surprised. “Ivy? What are you doing here?” Sierra gasped. “You know her? Is she… is she your mortal trial?” My heart nearly stopped. But my hand, heedless of the danger, yanked the herb free and tucked it into my sleeve. Sierra’s face instantly darkened. I forced a smile, turning to leave. “What a coincidence. See you around.” 5 “Give me that celestial herb!” Sierra flashed in front of me, blocking my path. “How dare a mere mortal like you use a celestial item? Give it back!” She was surprisingly strong, yanking my arm, trying to snatch the herb away. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead, but I clung on desperately, refusing to let go. “I got it first!” “Give it to me, or don’t blame me for being rough!” Sierra wasn’t backing down. I wouldn’t either. “It’s mine!” “Ivy, is your mother unwell?” Cole frowned. “This celestial herb is the only one of its kind in the world. Sierra’s spirit pet is injured, so please let her have it.” He continued, his voice softer, “Your mother is old; even with this celestial item, it would be a waste.” I felt as though I had plunged into an ice cellar. My voice trembled as I spoke. “It’s not for my mother. It’s for me. I’m sick and desperately need this herb to save my life.” Cole’s brows furrowed deeply. He scrutinized me from head to toe. Sierra grew impatient. “Cole, are you being foolish? She’s so strong; she doesn’t look sick at all!” Cole’s face darkened at Sierra’s words. “Ivy Rivers, when did you learn to lie?” “Hand the celestial herb to Sierra at once.” His meaning was clear: unless I was on my deathbed, the herb was to be surrendered. Knowing I couldn’t overpower them, I immediately knelt. “Celestial Warrior Cole, in exchange for the two years I cared for you, please let me take this celestial herb!” “Don’t you still owe me a wish? I’ll use it for this herb!” Cole sighed, his voice heavy with disappointment. “You were the one who said you had no other desires. Now you want me to grant your second wish?” He looked at me, his gaze sharpening. “Were you pretending then, secretly wanting more?” I looked up, stunned, meeting Cole’s chilling eyes. After two years of living side-by-side, he still saw me as nothing more than a greedy mortal. In my daze, the celestial herb in my sleeve floated uncontrollably out and flew towards Cole. He caught it, then handed it to Sierra. I stood up, ready to snatch it back. He looked at me, his gaze as cold as ice. “To act so brazenly in front of a celestial fiancée, Ivy Rivers, you must be tired of living.”

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1 I woke up to find my daughter transformed into a golden retriever. I screamed in terror, but my mother-in-law cursed me for raising a dog as a child. My husband asked when I would finally agree to have a real baby. But I distinctly remembered my daughter being five years old, and just last night, she was begging me for a story. I rushed to the closet; instead of my daughter’s princess dresses, there were dog clothes and leashes. I opened my phone gallery; instead of countless photos of my daughter, there were only pictures of that golden retriever. I ran to the daycare; the teachers also said I had never had a child. “Where is my daughter!” I screamed in despair. My husband said I had become obsessed with the dog, imagining a daughter to avoid childbirth. My mother-in-law sighed, advising me to see a psychiatrist. But I didn’t believe them. Ten months of pregnancy, five years of companionship—how could it all be a hallucination! I tried to call the police, but they stopped me, locking me in a mental hospital. I struggled desperately, rushing out onto the road, only to be hit by an out-of-control truck. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my daughter turned into a golden retriever. This time, I wouldn’t scream. … A warm, wet tongue licked my cheek, leaving a faint, unpleasant odor. I snapped my eyes open. What greeted me was not the soft, pink face of my daughter, Joanna. Instead, it was the yellow-furred face of a dog. In my past life, this dog had replaced my daughter. The bedroom door creaked open. My husband, David, walked in. “The sun’s already high; aren’t you getting up?” My mother-in-law followed close behind. “Aren’t you going to get up and make breakfast? Five years in this house, and you haven’t produced a single grandchild. How can you sleep so soundly?” I dug my nails fiercely into my palm. The pain was sharp and real. It wasn’t a dream. I had been reborn. I was back on the morning Joanna disappeared. I pointed at the dog. “David, where is my daughter, Joanna?” David frowned. “Joanna’s right there on the bed, isn’t she?” I grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. “I’m talking about a human, my daughter, five-year-old Joanna! Not this animal!” David dodged the pillow. “Elara, we’ve been married for five years, and you’ve always refused to have children.” “You insisted on keeping this dog and even named it Joanna.” “You were the one who said you’d raise her like your own daughter. What act are you putting on now?” My mother-in-law chimed in. “Now you’re disgusted by it being an animal? Then hurry up and give me a grandson with a real heir.” Their synchronized performance. In my past life, I had been driven insane by this very narrative. They ganged up, turning black into white. “I don’t believe you. Last night, Joanna was sleeping in my arms, asking me to read ‘Snow White’.” I leaped out of bed, barefoot, and rushed to the closet. Just like in my previous life. The area that used to be filled with pink fluffy dresses was now entirely taken up by pet clothes. My mind went blank for a moment. Could those five years of mother-daughter affection really have been just a hallucination, born from my prolonged loneliness? I opened my phone. The lock screen was a dog. My photo gallery was full of dog pictures. David snatched the phone from my hand. “Had enough yet?” “Elara, are you under too much stress? Is something wrong with your mind?” His hand rested on my shoulder. I violently shook him off. “Don’t touch me. You’re all lying to me.” I ran out of the bedroom, heading straight for the front door. “Where are you going?” David roared from behind me. “I’m going to the daycare! The teachers will know! Joanna went to school yesterday!” I ignored my mother-in-law’s curses, grabbed the car keys, and bolted out. This time, I would tear through this web of lies. The car sped down the road. My mind was filled with Joanna’s smiling face. “Mommy, I want that balloon.” “Mommy, I love you.” So vibrant, so real. How could it be an illusion? How could it be a dog? I arrived at the Sunflower Daycare. It was peak time for parents dropping off children. I rushed to the classroom at the end of the second floor. Mrs. Davis was standing at the door, greeting the children. When she saw me, a flicker of panic crossed her eyes, but it vanished instantly. I rushed forward and grabbed her wrist. “Mrs. Davis, where is my daughter, Joanna Zhao?” Mrs. Davis frowned, trying to pull her hand free. “What daughter? You signed up for dog daycare here.” 2 My eyes widened as I stared at her. “You’re lying! You personally handed Joanna back to me yesterday afternoon.” “You even said Joanna wet the bed during her nap and asked me to wash her pants when I got home.” The surrounding parents and children gathered around. Mrs. Davis rolled her eyes at me, turned, and pulled a registration book from a cabinet. “See, isn’t this your signature?” I squinted. It was indeed my handwriting. But the header of the form read [Pet Short-Term Boarding Registration Form]. The “Boarded Object” column said: [Golden Retriever, Name: Joanna]. I snatched the registration book and frantically tore at it. “Fake, it’s all fake! You’re all in on this together! My daughter is human, not a dog!” Mrs. Davis shrieked. “Call security!” Two burly security guards rushed up, grabbing my arms, one on each side. I struggled desperately. “Let me go! Give me back my daughter!” “Mrs. Davis, you witch, you clearly know Joanna!” Just then, David rushed over, panting. He bowed apologetically to everyone. “I-I’m so sorry, everyone. My wife hasn’t been well lately.” “She wants a child so badly she’s having hallucinations. She’s caused trouble for the teacher.” The surrounding parents gave knowing looks. “Oh, so she’s crazy.” “How pathetic, she’s gone mad from wanting a child.” “Treating a dog like a child, she’s definitely seriously ill.” David walked up to me, took off his jacket, and draped it over my head, blocking my vision. “We’re going home. If you make a scene again, I’ll make sure you never leave the house for the rest of your life.” I stopped struggling. Not because I was afraid. But because I knew that making a scene now was useless. Everyone thought I was crazy. The evidence had all been tampered with. I had to stay calm. I had to survive. Only by surviving could I find Joanna. Back home, David tossed the car keys onto the coffee table. “Mom, get her medicine.” “I think she’s seriously ill today; we need to increase the dosage.” My mother-in-law immediately retrieved a white pill bottle from under the TV cabinet, pouring out two red capsules. Those were the “vitamins” they usually forced me to take. In my past life, I hadn’t known until just before I died that they were high-concentration illicit drugs from illegal channels, containing hallucinogens and sedatives. Long-term use would turn a normal person insane. My mother-in-law brought over a cup of water. “Hurry up, take your medicine, and you won’t imagine things anymore.” I clamped my mouth shut, turning my head away. “I won’t take it.” David walked over and roughly pinched my chin, forcing my mouth open. “Take it. Don’t make me use force.” My mother-in-law quickly shoved the pills into my mouth, then poured in a large gulp of water. I choked violently, water streaming down my neck and soaking my clothes. The pills lodged in my throat, a bitter taste spreading through my mouth. I pretended to swallow. The moment they loosened their grip, I violently shoved my mother-in-law away and rushed into the bathroom. Locked the door. And stuck my finger down my throat. “Ugh!” The water and pills I had swallowed, mixed with stomach acid, came back up. Outside the door, David started kicking. “Elara, open this door! What are you doing in there?” I flushed the toilet. Washed my face, and opened the door. “I took the medicine. I want to sleep.” David stared at me for a while, seemingly judging whether I was telling the truth. Finally, he snorted. “You’d better have taken it.” “Go to sleep. Your mind will clear up after you wake.” I returned to the bedroom, lifted my nightgown, and revealed my flat lower abdomen. There was a ten-centimeter-long, faint pink scar there. It was left five years ago when I had a C-section to give birth to Joanna. In my past life, when I questioned this scar, David had said, “What C-section? You got that climbing a mountain, you fell off a rock.” Climbing a mountain? Who gets a scar exactly where the uterus is? Who gets such a perfectly straight horizontal incision from a fall? They were treating my intelligence with utter contempt. The tragic thing was, in my past life, I had actually believed them. Because during that time, they had fed me so much medicine my memories were a confused mess. This time, I would never let them lead me by the nose again. 3 I stood up and began searching the room. Photos could be edited, clothes could be replaced. But Joanna had lived in this house for five years; it was impossible that not a single trace remained. However, I searched every corner of the room, finding nothing. They had been utterly ruthless. It was a destructive purge. My heart sank deeper and deeper. Just then, my gaze fell on the fabric armchair. Joanna often sat there reading picture books, eating snacks, and sometimes hiding treasures in the crevices. I rushed over, digging my hand deep into the sofa’s cracks, pushing hard. My fingertip brushed against something hard and cold. My heart skipped a beat. I carefully hooked out the object. It was a silver bracelet. The pendant on the front was engraved with “Joanna,” and the back had a QR code. This was a lost-and-found bracelet I had specially custom-made for Joanna’s fifth birthday. It had a chip implanted, and by scanning the QR code, one could see my contact information and Joanna’s photo. I pulled out my phone, opened the scanner. Beep. A page popped up on the screen. [Name: Joanna Zhao] [Gender: Female] [Date of Birth: January 8, 2021] [Mother: Elara Lin Phone: 138xxxx…] Below was a headshot of Joanna. The little girl’s eyes were smiling, a gap where a front tooth used to be. I covered my mouth, silently sobbing. I found her. I finally found her. My daughter was real! My entire family was lying to me. They had hidden my daughter. It was even possible… I dared not think further. Just then, footsteps sounded outside the door. I quickly shoved the bracelet into my bra, hiding it against my chest. Then, I lay back on the bed and pulled the covers over my head. The door was pushed open a crack. David’s voice came through. “Asleep?” My mother-in-law’s voice was very low. “She should be. She just took her medicine; she must be drowsy.” “That’s good.” They closed the door and left. I got out of bed, tiptoeing to the door, pressing my ear against it to listen to the commotion outside. First, my mother-in-law’s anxious voice. “David, it’s been days now. Why hasn’t the buyer paid the remaining balance?” My body stiffened. Buyer? Balance? What were they talking about? I held my breath, straining to hear their conversation. David’s voice was filled with greed. “Don’t worry, they said that as long as the goods are inspected and there are no problems, the remaining five hundred thousand will be transferred tomorrow.” “Although that little girl is a good-for-nothing, she’s quite pretty.” “They happen to need a child bride and plan to take her deep into the mountains.” “Once she goes, she’ll never get out in this lifetime.” Child bride? Mountains? They actually sold Joanna! David let out a cold laugh. “With this money, and by selling Elara, that crazy woman’s house, we can pay off my gambling debts.” “Then, we’ll make Elara have a son, and our Zhao family will finally have an heir.” My mother-in-law chuckled a few times. “My son is so clever.” “Oh, and that Mrs. Davis, you need to keep her happy.” “It’s thanks to her cooperation that all the records were changed.” David said triumphantly, “Don’t worry, Davis is my old flame. As long as the money’s good, she’ll do anything.” I couldn’t hear the rest. My mind was filled with a buzzing roar. To pay off gambling debts, to have a son, they sold my daughter. They wanted to drive me insane and seize my property. Even Joanna’s teacher was David’s mistress! I wanted to rush out and rip their hearts open to see if they were black. But I couldn’t. Joanna was still with the buyer. I couldn’t tip them off. I had to endure. I had to wait for the right moment to return this pain to them a thousandfold. 4 In the evening, David went out. My mother-in-law called from outside. “Elara, get up and make dinner! You’ve slept all day; do you really think you’re a young mistress?” Normally, I would jump up and rush to the kitchen, afraid of displeasing her. But not today. If you say I’m crazy, then I’ll show you crazy. I stood up and walked out of the room. My mother-in-law was sitting with her legs crossed, cracking sunflower seeds, the golden retriever lying at her feet. As soon as she saw me, she opened her mouth to curse. I beat her to it, rushing to the dog’s toilet on the balcony. In my mother-in-law’s astonished gaze, I picked up a fresh, foul-smelling clump of dog feces with my bare hand. “What are you doing? That’s disgusting, you psycho!” My mother-in-law screamed, dropping her plate of sunflower seeds and scrambling backward. I rushed to her, grabbing a handful of her hair. As she screamed in terror, her mouth wide open, I smeared the dog feces all over her lips and nose, rubbing it in firmly. “Mom, didn’t you say this was my daughter?” “My daughter’s gold! I specially saved it for you, her loving grandmother, to have a taste.” “Look how rich the color is, how nourishing!” My mother-in-law’s eyes rolled back in her head from the stench, and she began retching uncontrollably. I casually grabbed the fruit knife from the coffee table, placing the tip against her throat. “Since you say I’m crazy, then a crazy person who kills isn’t held accountable, right?” My mother-in-law went limp, her pants instantly soaked. When David returned, this was the scene that greeted him: his mother, face covered in dog feces, slumped in a puddle of urine, while his usually submissive wife held a knife, pointing it at him. “Elara, put the knife down!” I stood up and walked toward him. “David, I just had a dream. I dreamt Joanna was crying.” “She said Daddy was going to sell her for money.” David’s pupils violently constricted. “Nonsense! I told you that’s your imagination. Did you not take enough medicine?” I pointed the knife at him. “Maybe I really am crazy.” “If I’m crazy, then nothing I do is illegal, right?” I advanced on him step by step. David recoiled, intimidated by my presence. He had never seen me like this. The old Elara was gentle and obedient, never daring to raise her voice. But the current me emanated an aura of destruction. Just then, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered it. A voice, distorted by a voice changer, spoke from the other end. “Ms. Lin, I hear you’re looking for your daughter?” “If you want to see her, prepare one million dollars.” “Don’t call the police, or we’ll send you back a hand.” The call ended. I froze. One million dollars? Kidnapping? No, David clearly said he sold her. How did it turn into a kidnapping and ransom? I looked at David, realizing he, too, was utterly bewildered. Clearly, this call wasn’t part of his plan either. What was going on? Was it a double-cross? No matter what the truth was, this call meant Joanna was still alive. As long as she was alive, there was hope. I took a deep breath. Since the situation was already messy, I’d make it even messier. I looked at David, a smile playing on my lips. “Husband, that call just now said they want a million dollars for ransom.” “Do you think selling your kidney is worth a million dollars?”

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After my family went bankrupt, I set my sights on the wealthy circle of childhood friends. Brandon was the first to take the bait. After stringing him along for three months, I happened to overhear a conversation he had with his friends: “A down-and-out socialite, and you’re still showering her with attention? Don’t tell me you two are actually in love?” Brandon let out a dismissive laugh. “True love? Please. Her family went bankrupt, so I can have some fun with her. If I were really going to marry, I’d have to choose a proper heiress.” My heart shattered. That very night, I cleared out his place. Without a moment’s hesitation, I texted the next wealthy childhood friend on my list: “I broke up with him. Come get me.” 1 The VIP room door hadn’t been fully shut. As Brandon spoke, I could even see him idly twirling his lighter, his narrow, almond-shaped eyes filled with a chilling indifference. “Just a bit of fun, that’s all. My family is already setting up arranged meetings for me.” “Aren’t you worried about Rachel getting angry? She used to be quite the social queen, famously headstrong!” Brandon let out a light laugh. “Used to be, you said it yourself. She’s living off my money now. Even if she knew I was going on dates, what right does she have to cause a scene?” I froze in place. Just a few months ago, my family had gone bankrupt. It was Brandon who stepped forward, patiently comforting me. “Rachel, be with me. I’ll take care of you for life.” And he had kept his word. No clothes? Top luxury brands sent their stylists to my door. No place to live? He bought me an apartment in the city. No money to spend? Fifty thousand a month transferred directly to my card. Now, he was openly discussing the “cost” of keeping me in a VIP room. “How much has Brandon sunk into her these past few months?” “Three to five hundred thousand, I’d say.” “Isn’t that a bit much? No matter how ‘high-class’ she once was, that’s ancient history now. Is she really worth that price?” The group started to egg him on. “The model I’m seeing only cost me five grand for three months! Don’t you dare inflate the market price!” “What if you feed this fallen socialite’s ego too much, and she eventually gets too comfortable being a kept woman and tries to force a marriage?” That last remark made Brandon thoughtful. Before I could hear his reply, a hand clapped me on the shoulder. “Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Rachel? Why are you standing out here instead of coming in?” I turned. Meeting a pair of eyes that held a knowing, mocking glint. 2 It was Dylan. To put our relationship in perspective, his cousin was my childhood friend. As for him, he was, at best, my sworn rival. When my family first went bankrupt, he was the first to call, gloating. “Heard the Yao family went broke? So, the princess is going to be homeless, huh? If you beg me nicely, I might consider taking you in…” My pride was still soaring back then, and I immediately blocked his number. Months passed. He was still as irritating as ever. As he brushed past me, he let out an abrupt chuckle. I didn’t utter a word. Silently, I followed Dylan into the room. “Rachel’s here?” “Quick, quick, come sit next to Brandon.” Countless gazes, eager for drama, fixated on me. I pretended not to notice, finding the empty seat beside Brandon and quietly taking it. “Rachel, I ordered some drinks for you. Have a glass!” Someone next to me pushed a high-proof drink my way. I glanced at Brandon. He wasn’t looking in my direction, nor did he seem to notice my predicament. “I don’t drink.” “We’re all adults here, how could you not drink? Or are you looking down on me, Rachel?” The commotion drew the attention of everyone in the room. Brandon finally looked over. But not to intervene. Instead, he stared at me, a slight frown on his face. “Don’t be a spoilsport.” Three dismissive words. He seemed to have completely forgotten that in similar situations before, he would not only prevent me from drinking but also thoughtfully order a sparkling water, shielding me from all harassment. 3 In the end, I took the glass. “Alright, I’ll drink it.” The high-proof alcohol burned its way down my throat. Before long, my mind felt light and airy. Brandon got up to use the restroom. Remembering the purpose of my visit today, I pushed through the haze and followed him. “Brandon.” “What is it?” “I’m out of money.” Brandon frowned. “Didn’t I just transfer your living expenses last month?” I bit my lip. “It’s all gone.” “You’re not some heiress anymore, what kind of expenses do you have?” Brandon lit a cigarette, and in the flickering light, he gently exhaled a puff of smoke. “Rachel, I hope you’re smart enough to know your place. Don’t be too greedy.” 4 Brandon left. Leaving me alone in front of the mirror, the corners of my eyes, reddened by alcohol, showing nothing but hurt. “Hmph.” A snicker came from around the corner. It was Dylan again. From his angle, he could clearly see me in the mirror. “Looks like Miss Rachel’s judgment isn’t so good after all. You went to all that trouble to hook up with Brandon, and now he doesn’t even want to give you living expenses. That’s quite humiliating.” “Are you enjoying my misfortune?” Dylan admitted it directly. “Of course.” “Then you’ve had your fill. You can leave now.” Dylan stopped talking. But he didn’t leave. Since he wasn’t going, I wiped the corner of my eye and walked away. As we brushed past each other, I suddenly heard Dylan’s voice. “How much do you want?” “A hundred thousand.” A few seconds later. Five hundred thousand landed in my bank account. Dylan’s voice seemed to echo right beside my ear. “Rachel, five hundred thousand in three months, what’s that? If you want it, I can give it to you in a second.” I looked up. Just in time to see him shift his gaze uncomfortably. “Can you unblock me now?” 5 With five hundred thousand in my account, I finally, as Brandon wished, stopped asking him for money. He clearly thought I had succumbed to reality, forced to learn obedience. He didn’t even bother to hide his arranged dates from me anymore. “This week, I’m going back to the family estate to meet Charlotte from the Lin family. Don’t bother me unless it’s urgent.” As Brandon said this, his assistant happened to mention a gift: “Mr. Brandon, the auction is next Monday. Eight million has already been transferred to your private account. Barring any surprises, we should be able to secure that jewelry set.” The invitation had arrived half a month ago. The jewelry set the assistant mentioned was the most dazzling piece in the collection. The starting bid alone was five million. Assistant: “You can take Miss Charlotte, and then you’ll have the perfect welcome gift for her.” I listened quietly for a while before speaking. “Next week is my birthday.” Brandon paused. He seemed to have just remembered. But quickly made his decision. “Go pick out a bag for yourself tomorrow. Fifty thousand budget.” A fifty thousand bag. An eight million jewelry set. The disparity was so immense, I couldn’t help but ask directly, “Can’t you give me that jewelry set?” “Give it to you?” Brandon laughed aloud. “Rachel, Charlotte from the Lin family is different from you. She has expensive tastes. A mere fifty thousand bag, she wouldn’t even look at it.” “Different people deserve different things. Do you think you’re worth an eight million jewelry set?” Why not? Before my family went bankrupt, my most expensive jewelry sets were in the tens of millions, and my gowns for galas were often royal heirlooms. My standards were several times higher than Charlotte’s. It was just that after the family’s upheaval, outsiders saw me as worthless. I lowered my gaze and said softly: “Brandon, let’s break up.” 6 When I suggested breaking up, Brandon looked as if he’d heard a joke. Even his assistant’s eyes held a hint of disdain. “Rachel, I advise you not to make such impulsive decisions. Break up with me, and can you really handle living in poverty?” “Then, forget an eight million jewelry set, you won’t even be able to afford a fifty thousand bag.” “Go cool off. Come talk to me when you’ve thought things through.” Brandon simply left the apartment. When I called again, only his assistant answered, his tone exceptionally casual. “Miss Rachel, have you thought it through?” “Yes, I have.” I looked at the various luxury items I’d gathered, and said softly, “Please send over that fifty thousand bag.” 7 Over these past three months, the luxury items Brandon had given me fetched a total of eighty thousand. I didn’t even spare the furniture, selling everything to whoever was closest. Piece by piece, I scraped together a hundred thousand. On my birthday, Brandon’s social media updated with a photo of him and Charlotte from the Lin family. In the picture, she was holding his arm, their gestures intimately familiar. All our mutual friends in the comments section were sending congratulations. I quietly closed the app. And dialed the number I had long since unblocked. Beep— After a few rings, a lazy voice answered on the other end. “Miss Rachel finally deigned to call me. Don’t tell me Brandon dumped you?” “Dylan, I broke up with him.” There was a long silence on the other end. So long that I wondered if Dylan had hung up, before he let out a scoff. “Why are you telling me this? Don’t tell me you thought just because I was nice enough to transfer you some money, I’d be willing to pick up his scraps?” I pressed my lips together and said softly, “I’m sorry, I misunderstood. Just pretend I never said anything.” After hanging up, I counted to three. The phone rang sharply. Dylan’s voice on the other end was exasperated. “Send me your address, I’m coming to get you!” 8 My move was quiet, almost unnoticed. Dylan didn’t put me up in an outside apartment like Brandon had. Instead, he brought me directly to his family’s estate. But as soon as we entered, we bumped into someone I hadn’t expected— Landon. Dylan’s cousin. My childhood friend whom I hadn’t seen in over a decade. His sudden appearance made me feel awkward, and it also ignited a certain hostility in Dylan. “Cousin? What brings you back to the estate so suddenly?” “Just checking in.” Landon put down his newspaper, his gaze naturally falling on me. Dylan instinctively grabbed my hand. “Cousin, you probably don’t recognize Rachel anymore. Let me introduce you…” “No need.” Landon averted his gaze, as if I were just an irrelevant stranger. “I know her. Brandon’s mistress.” Those words. Made me nervously drop my head, a wave of unease washing over me. Dylan, however, breathed a sigh of relief, then retorted, “They’ve already broken up.” “So you just bring her back to the estate? I don’t care if Brandon keeps a mistress, but as a member of the Song family, you shouldn’t be involved in such things.” Dylan immediately shot back, “What business is it of yours!” He led me to the room next to his own. “You can stay here from now on. My cousin has been abroad for so many years, his personality has become cold and aloof, and his words are harsh. Just try to avoid him.” To be honest, both brothers had sharp tongues. Dylan was verbally toxic. Landon was brutally honest, tearing down pretenses. I nodded obediently. “Okay.” Even if he hadn’t said anything, I would have kept my distance. After all, among the younger generation of the Song family, the one I truly grew up with, the one who was truly my childhood friend, was Landon. From childhood, I’d always trailed after this brilliant older boy next door, chasing him and declaring I’d be his bride. Until the Song family’s eldest branch lost their struggle for power. Landon, then just fourteen, had even climbed into my backyard before leaving the country. “Little Rachel, will you wait for me to come back?” “Yes, yes!” But I was too young back then, and Dylan soon entered my life, making me quickly forget my dearest childhood friend. To outsiders, Dylan, with whom I constantly bickered, seemed like my closest childhood friend. Back then, no one could have imagined. That Landon would return years later, powerfully taking over as CEO. When I was being kept by Brandon, I’d heard rumors of Landon’s ruthless tactics, but I’d dismissed them as mere gossip. After all, the bond between us had long faded with time. Now, we were practically strangers. In my direst moments, I thought of Brandon, I thought of Dylan, but I never once considered seeking out my old ‘Brother Landon’. 9 But being under the same roof, avoiding him wasn’t entirely up to me. “Let’s not even mention the five million you transferred out a while ago. Now you’re bringing people back to the house?” Simply going downstairs for some milk in the evening, I found myself walking in on Landon and Dylan’s confrontation. “What does it have to do with you?” Dylan crossed his arms. “Cousin, don’t think that just because your position is higher than mine now, you can order me around. My dividends don’t come from your hands.” Unlike Dylan’s defiance, Landon’s expression was calm. “I have no intention of ordering you around.” “But Rachel was Brandon’s girlfriend. If you rashly bring her back, what happens if it causes a huge scandal?” “Girlfriend, my foot! They’ve already broken up! Brandon is getting into an arranged marriage, what does he have to do with her anymore?” Landon chuckled softly. “Dylan, should I, as your cousin, remind you?” “Your aunt and uncle are also preparing to arrange a marriage for you to regain their standing.” “What will you do then with the person you’ve brought back?” Dylan’s expression froze. Before he could answer, the sound of ceramic hitting the floor echoed from the second story. I had accidentally knocked over a vase. By the time the two brothers looked up, I had already fled back to my room, only a glimpse of my skirt hem remaining in their line of sight. 10 That night, Dylan rushed to my room. He shed his usual sharp tongue and arrogance, explaining anxiously, “Don’t believe what my cousin said just now.” I asked, “Can you guarantee you won’t enter an arranged marriage?” Dylan hesitated, his words caught in his throat. He knew his parents’ personalities too well to make such a promise. I blinked, my voice almost a whisper— “Dylan, then how are you any different from Brandon?” Dylan was speechless. “…” He desperately wanted to promise something. But any words, at that moment, felt so hollow. Before the door closed completely, a hint of melancholy touched my eyes. “I must have been foolish to believe your words that day. After all, you’re just like Brandon, only slightly more free.” “You should go.” Each word landed like a heavy blow in Dylan’s heart. Just before the door completely shut him out, he suddenly raised his voice. “Rachel, I will do what I promise! “Just give me a little more time!” 11 Dylan left the next day. His whereabouts unknown. Instead, a large sum of money, a full ten million, landed in my bank account. It was all of Dylan’s personal savings. And the only guarantee he could give me. “I don’t understand.” “What methods did you use to charm both Brandon and Dylan so completely?” When I stepped out, Landon was already seated on the sofa. Having studied at old aristocratic schools for years, he exuded an aura of nobility. Not to mention he was now the CEO. As he approached, his presence was completely different from the scions I usually interacted with, full of an almost oppressive power. I dared not speak much. I simply lowered my head, meekly saying, “Can you move please? I need to go out.” “Look up.” I didn’t dare. Landon said, “If you treat me with that attitude, I can have the money Dylan transferred to you reclaimed in the company’s name.” At those words, I immediately snapped my head up. The corners of my eyes were already red-rimmed from the strain. “What exactly do you want?” Landon stared at me for a long time, his gaze lingering on the outer corners of my eyes. For a moment, I felt an almost aggressive presence wash over me. “I’ve looked into you.” “The things Brandon gave you, you just sold them for cash.” “Dylan was even more foolish, giving you fifteen million after only a few days of seeing you.” “But your personal expenses are minimal. All the money quickly transferred out of your account.” “I’m guessing you’re paying off your family’s debts.” “Am I right, little Rachel?” 12 My family’s bankruptcy wasn’t unfair. It started when my father blindly expanded the company, leading to a break in the capital chain. He couldn’t bear the blow and jumped to his death. Soon after, the family properties were foreclosed, and all assets, including luxury items, were frozen. My sister, Nadia, rushed to another province, scrambling to raise funds. I was left penniless and homeless. The future for us two sisters seemed laid out before us—working to pay off debts. I refused to live that life. Since I didn’t have the same ability to maneuver as my sister, I decided to leverage the resources at hand— To extract a fortune from the rich crowd of childhood friends. Brandon was the first to fall for it. Initially, he was very generous with living expenses. Until later. Perhaps as we spent more time together, my value in his eyes slowly diminished. Gradually, I became indistinguishable from any other gold digger. And the treatment I received shouldn’t be special. Once I realized that. I decisively broke up with him and promptly latched onto Dylan. This wasn’t a last resort. It was because I knew from the start that this perpetually sharp-tongued rival had, in our school days, secretly kissed the top of my head while I was asleep. He liked me. To test how much he was willing to give, I had deliberately drunk that night in the VIP room. The facts proved. Dylan was far more generous than Brandon. Unfortunately— There was also a much smarter Landon in the Song family. He was now the true power holder. 13 “That’s none of your business, is it?” I finally stopped hiding, just tilted my head and smiled. “You’re not even direct brothers, do you really need to be so meddlesome?” Landon fell silent. I walked past him, and just as I stepped out of the lobby doors, a voice suddenly came from behind me. “Rachel, at this rate, when do you think your family’s two hundred million debt will be paid off?” “Brandon is stingy, Dylan has other considerations. How much can you really get from them?” “And pushing it further, how much longer can your sister hold out?” That last sentence made my outgoing steps halt. My sister had been gone for three months. She was seeking out old connections, pleading for commercial support. Besides checking in to say she was safe, there had been no other news. But I knew it wouldn’t be easy. It required asking for favors, attending endless dinners and drinks, lowering all pride. So even though I knew Brandon was with me only to enjoy the sense of control over a fallen socialite, I pretended to be completely oblivious. The more I could extract here. The easier it would be for my sister. The silence lasted for several minutes. Finally, I turned around and slowly walked back, getting closer and closer to Landon. The once refined young man had long since grown into a broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted figure. I stood before him. As if to be completely enveloped by his presence. I stepped closer. He didn’t retreat. It wasn’t until I fully leaned in that I tilted my head back, my slender fingers gently gripping his shirt. “Brother Landon, can you help me then?” 14 Landon didn’t give me money. But under other names, he privately injected five hundred million into my sister’s company. The price was— I moved from Dylan’s adjacent room into his. Landon at twenty-eight. And my ‘Brother Landon’ at fourteen. They were truly different. There was no tenderness. When he gripped my waist, I was almost brought to tears. “Bastard—” Landon’s breath caressed the back of my neck, not soft as usual, but laced with a fierce possessiveness. “Rachel.” “Look at me.” “Why didn’t you come to me? I was waiting for you all along.” My eyes couldn’t focus at all. Even as he held me up, I was as soft as water, completely unable to make out what he was saying. “?” Landon stared at me for a long time. Finally, as if in punishment, he bit my shoulder. “You like jewelry, do you?” “I’ll take you to the auction tomorrow.” His breathing was exceptionally sensual as he spoke. “Eight million? That hardly does you justice.” His words jolted me fully awake. There, for a fleeting moment. I had a chilling realization— Landon knew everything. He had planned this all along.

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Daniel, my father, had finally won over Sophia, my mother—the loving but secondary figure in their story. He waited ten years for her to marry him, bringing along my three-year-old sister, Mia. But after I was born, Mia developed a severe eating disorder. She only smiled and ate more when feeding me. So whenever she offered a spoon, Mom would gently hold my shoulders and force me to open my mouth. At five, my teacher taught us to say no to things that made us unhappy. One day, too full to eat another bite, I refused Mia’s spoon. She cried until her face turned purple, as if I’d hurt her deeply. Mom rushed over, panicked, her nails digging into my skin. “You already have Mom and Dad’s love. Why compete with your sister?” “Can’t you be a good girl and eat a little more for her illness?” Dad looked at Mom with pity, took Mia, and said he’d take her to the amusement park to cheer her up. I writhed in pain on the floor, but Mom thought I was lying. She slammed the door, saying she’d punish me for disobeying. I clutched my stomach, tears blurring my vision. I’m sorry, Mom. Next time, I’ll be a good girl and eat to make Mia happy. … I pressed my small hands tightly against my stomach, curling up in a ball. In my mind, I remembered how Mom’s tummy aches always got better after she took the pills from the cabinet. When I finally managed to open the pill bottle, A sharp pain shot through my stomach, and the pills scattered across the floor. Just as I was about to pick them up, I heard the door open. My eyes lit up—Dad was home. I reached out to him. “Dad, it feels like there are so many bugs biting my tummy…” Dad hurried towards me, but Mom grabbed him. “She doesn’t speak a single truth.” “Have you forgotten how she stole snacks a few days ago, and when I caught her, she blamed Mia?” “Now she’s lying about a stomach ache, just trying to pretend to be sick so we won’t take Mia out.” It wasn’t like that. Last time, Mia had brought the living room snacks into my room. She tore open the wrappers, proudly stuffing them into her mouth. She didn’t look at all like the child who hated eating in front of Mom and Dad. I told her to eat fewer snacks. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have an appetite for dinner later. Mia puffed out her cheeks, deliberately waving a spicy chip in front of me. When Mom opened the door, Mia purposefully put the chip in my hand. And wiped the grease from her fingers onto my clothes. I didn’t mind. I happily told Mom that Mia’s illness was gone. But Mom angrily dragged me out of the room, making me kneel in the living room to think about what I’d done. She called me a liar. She said I had clearly stolen snacks myself and then tried to blame my sister, who had an eating disorder. I cried, saying I hadn’t stolen anything. But Mom’s face was as cold as the snow outside. Chilling. She threw me out the front door, saying she would abandon a lying child. I cried for a very long time, begging Mom not to leave me. Finally, Dad, unable to bear it, secretly slipped an egg into my hand. He told me to quickly admit my mistake and not to make Mom angry. As dusk fell, my stomach growled with hunger. Mom held a steaming bowl of noodles, asking if I knew I was wrong. Smelling the delicious noodles, I sobbed and said I knew I was wrong. I had truly lied that time. But Mom had forgiven me. Thinking about it, even though I didn’t truly know what I had done wrong this time, I still carefully tugged at Mom’s skirt, repeating over and over that I was sorry. I thought Mom would hug me like that time, and say she loved me too. But when she noticed the scattered pills on the floor, she angrily kicked me away. “Stella Peterson, have you really become this mischievous?” “First, you intentionally refuse to eat, trying to starve your sister, and now you’re trying to trash the house!” “Today, I will punish you!” Dad was about to speak, but Mom’s glare silenced him. “Daniel Peterson, if you interfere with my disciplining Stella again, we’re getting a divorce!” Dad sighed helplessly. He took me from Mom. Just as I thought Dad would carry me to the hospital, he instead locked me in my bedroom himself. Dad stroked my head. “Stella, for the sake of this family, can you just be a good girl, okay?” I clung tightly to Dad’s coat, sobbing uncontrollably. “But Dad, my tummy really hurts.” Mom’s impatient voice came from the living room. “Daniel, are you favoring Stella again?” “When we remarried, you swore you’d treat Mia like your own daughter!” “If you keep favoring the younger one, there’s no point in us staying together!” Hearing this, Dad roughly pushed me away. He quickly left. He didn’t even notice that, due to his excessive force, I had fallen to the floor. My head hit the corner of the table, leaving me dazed. Through the crack in the still-open door, I saw Dad lifting Mia high, spinning her around. A smile finally appeared on Mom’s face. She turned her head and met my gaze. Mom frowned, then slammed the door shut. The room plunged into darkness. I couldn’t see anything, but I heard Mom’s words even more clearly. She said, “Stella is a spoiled child.” “Eating is such a happy thing, yet she’s even learned to waste food.” “A day in her room will teach her to appreciate every bite.” Then came her gentle voice. She said, “Mia, you’ll always be Mom’s precious girl.” “It’s okay if you don’t like eating, but when you’re hungry, you must tell Mom.” The house gradually quieted down. It was pitch black, and my heart pounded rapidly. But I was too short to reach the light switch. I just climbed into bed. If I slept, my tummy wouldn’t hurt. That’s how I used to get through it. But this time, my tummy really, really hurt. I mimicked how Mom would coax Mia to eat, gently patting my swollen stomach. “Please, don’t hurt anymore!” “It’s all your fault, you made Mom think I’m naughty.” But it wouldn’t listen to me. Instead, it hurt even more. So, did Mom feel this much pain every time she scolded me for being naughty? Tears splattered down. I’m sorry, Mom. It’s all my fault for being naughty and making you hurt so many times. My head started to ache too. I wiped the sweat from my forehead. It was clammy. I remembered how Mom had locked me out the last time because of the oil stains on my clothes. I frantically raised my hands, desperately trying to wipe my face clean. But the sweat wouldn’t wipe away. And I felt colder and colder. Even snuggled under the covers, I shivered with cold. Gradually, I felt so, so tired, and finally fell asleep. When I opened my eyes again, I found my tummy didn’t hurt at all. I excitedly bounced and jumped. My body floated right through the locked bedroom door. Just in time to see Mom and Dad returning. Mom was patiently feeding Mia a sweet potato. “Mia, just one more bite, okay?” Mia shook her head away. “No, no. It makes me sick just looking at it.” Mom sighed, her brows furrowed. I raised my hand, wanting to smooth them, but my small hand couldn’t reach Mom. I vaguely realized that I was dead. Just like the kitten Mia had thrown to its death. Mia had insisted on getting that kitten. But after just a few days, she complained it smelled bad. So Mom gave me the task of caring for the kitten. I didn’t mind the kitten smelling bad at all. Every day after school, the first thing I did was change its water and add food. After a while, the kitten would let me pet it and even purr for me. With it, I never felt sad anymore when Mom and Dad only paid attention to Mia. Okay, I lied again. I was still a little sad. Just a tiny bit. When Mia noticed the kitten preferred me, she snatched it right out of my arms. The kitten meowed in fright, scratching her as it struggled. Mom’s face was exceptionally grim that night. When Mia came back after getting her vaccine, the kitten hid under the bed, too scared to come out. I knelt before Mom, crying and apologizing for the kitten. But Mom said that a vicious animal couldn’t be kept. She even said I was heartless. “In your heart, is your sister’s safety less important than a vicious animal?” I cried, saying it was different. Mia had Mom and Dad’s love. The kitten only had me. If I couldn’t protect it, no one else would. Mom said I was being illogical and told Dad to hold me back. She grabbed the kitten and brought it to Mia, letting her do whatever she wanted with it. I struggled desperately, but I could only watch helplessly as the kitten was thrown to its death. I cried until my throat was hoarse. But Mom only cared that Mia had eaten three more bites of food that day. As for Dad, he only cared about Mom’s mood. When the kitten died, I was sad. But I died, and no one even cared. Dad placed the various toys he was carrying on the sofa. He also had a sweet potato in his hand, and he knocked on my door. “Stella, are you asleep? Dad brought you something good to eat.” Mia, who had been playing with her Barbie doll, jumped off the stool and whined to Mom, “Mom, I want the sweet potato Dad has.” Seeing Mia’s rare appetite, Mom immediately swapped the sweet potato with Dad. Watching Mia eat bite after bite, Mom’s eyes reddened with excitement. Perhaps emboldened by Mom not being able to see me, I loudly declared that I hated Mia the most. She always so unreasonably snatched my things. Even if there were two identical items, Mia always thought mine was better. Even Mom would suspect Dad was secretly buying me better things. So every time, what I got was what Mia didn’t want, or her leftovers. Even my dresses and shoes were all hand-me-downs from Mia. Thinking about it, I sighed heavily. Mom always said she envied me for being young and carefree. But I had so many, many worries. Mom said Mia didn’t have her biological father, so she had to be extra good to her. My biological father also said he had to be good to Mia. He said he was a stepfather, and he had to be fair, otherwise people would talk. Mom and Dad both said they had to be good to Mia, repeatedly telling me that I had to be good to Mia too. I counted on my fingers. Five was clearly smaller than eight. Why did five-year-old me have to give in to eight-year-old Mia? When Mom noticed Dad still standing by my bedroom door, she immediately grew furious. “Didn’t I say she was to go without food for a day?” “If you go soft on her, you’re sleeping in the study tonight!” Dad didn’t speak, but called my name again. Still, I didn’t respond. I floated beside him, repeating over and over that I was here. But he couldn’t hear me. Dad finally lost his patience, muttering, “Why is this child so stubborn?” Mom was even more triumphant. “See? I told you so!” “Stella is just an ungrateful wretch. She’s only been locked up for three hours and she’s already deliberately ignoring you.” “If she’s like this now, who knows how rebellious she’ll be when she grows up.” “She’s nothing like our Mia, who’s so obedient and smart.” Mia proudly lifted her head, quickly swallowing the food in her mouth. Seeing this, Mom praised Mia non-stop. I watched enviously as Mom fed Mia. She had never once fed me. Mom said I already had Dad, so she had to give more of her love to Mia. She was busy cooking for Mia, busy taking Mia to elementary school, busy taking Mia to the doctor. I, however, was left with Mrs. Gable, our neighbor. As time went on, the other children started to tease me for not having a dad to pick me up. I frowned, loudly insisting they were wrong. Because not only did Dad never pick me up, Mom hadn’t either! As I got a little older, I learned to feed myself. But Mia would volunteer to feed me. The food was so hot, the spoon hit my tongue, it hurt so much, and my stomach was so, so full… But every time I mentioned these things, Mom called me fussy. She told me to eat more, saying it was the only way Mia would be happy. If Mia was happy, her eating disorder would get better. And when she was better, Mom said she’d finally have time to love me. But I waited and waited for so long. And Mom’s day to love me never came. That evening, after tucking Mia into bed, Mom went into the kitchen. After cooking a bowl of noodles, she knocked on my door. “Stella, are you hungry?” Mom sighed. “Earlier today, Mom lost her temper.” “I’m sorry, Mom didn’t mean it, it’s just…” Mom didn’t finish her sentence, placing the noodles outside the door. “If you’re hungry, just open the door and come eat.” This was the second time Mom had cooked me noodles. The first time I ate them, I thought they were delicious. Because even Mia didn’t get Mom’s specially cooked noodles. Mom would only make her braised pork ribs and sweet and sour pork. It’s such a pity. I’ll never get to eat Mom’s food again. The next morning, upon seeing the overturned bowl of noodles outside my door, Mom instantly flew into a rage. “Stella Peterson, how long are you going to keep this up?” “I apologized to you yesterday, how can such a small child hold such a grudge?” I anxiously tried to explain it wasn’t me. Mia had deliberately knocked it over in the middle of the night. But Mom couldn’t hear me. She grew angrier and angrier, pushing open the bedroom door. Mia, who had just brushed her teeth, followed her. Through the morning light, Mia pointed at the red stain on the floor, tattling: “Stella ate ketchup in her room!” “She’s not a good girl at all!” Then she pointed at the lump under the covers. “Mom, look! She’s even hiding, feeling guilty!” With each accusation, Mom’s face grew darker. She didn’t even bother to wake me, instead taking Mia’s hand and admonishing her: “Don’t be like your sister.” “She was born to be nothing but trouble!” Mia happily shook her head. “I won’t be like Stella Peterson, she’s a greedy pig!” To punish me, Mom spent the entire day shopping at the mall. But she didn’t know I was following right behind her. I listened as she boasted to the sales assistant about her obedient older daughter. Only the younger one was rebellious, always trying to compete with her sister for attention. The sales assistant said children grow out of it. Mom agreed. So, amidst bags and bags of clothes all for Mia, She finally decided to buy me a new pair of small leather shoes. But Children’s Day had long passed. Back then, I wore worn-out sandals and was teased by the other kids for looking like I came from nothing. Now, even with new shoes, I didn’t want them anymore.

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