Author: Momo Chan

I was Julian’s first love. But after years of marriage, he started looking for younger girls who looked just like me. When the car crash happened, Julian’s first instinct was to shield me with his body. Outside the emergency room, someone sighed emotionally, “An instinctive reaction like that doesn’t lie. That’s true love. I believe in love again.” I could only smile bitterly. What they didn’t know was that Julian and I had been sleeping in separate bedrooms for years. Even when I swallowed my pride and crawled into his bed at night, he would only look at me with cold indifference. “Sorry, Elena. I’m too tired. I’m not in the mood,” he would say, brushing me off. But on my birthday, the very day he claimed he was too busy with work, I saw him with my own eyes—kissing a young girl in the middle of a shopping mall. When I finally made up my mind to walk away, his eyes turned red, and he growled at me: “Elena, you never loved me. I was just a substitute for him, wasn’t I?” I discovered Julian’s secret in the fifth year of our marriage. My birthday party was supposed to be held at our estate in the suburbs. I put on my new pink dress, walked up to Julian, and asked him how I looked. Julian was smiling at his phone, texting someone. Hearing my voice, he looked up and spared me a casual glance. “Pink doesn’t suit you. Don’t wear it again.” I froze. A suffocating pain pierced my chest. I was seven years older than Julian, and I was no longer young. No matter how much money I spent on skincare, fine lines were starting to creep up under my eyes. My body was losing the firm youthfulness it once had. I didn’t even know when it started, but Julian and I had become a “separate bedroom” couple. Even when I just wanted a simple goodnight kiss, he would turn his head away impatiently. But Julian never used to be like this. The old Julian loved me with everything he had. I was his entire world. He would look at me with the gentlest eyes, telling me I was the most beautiful woman in the world. He would drive across the entire city of New York just to buy me my favorite sandwich. I clenched my fists, looking at the mocking expression on his face. Panic surged deep within me. I parted my lips, desperate to ask him. To ask him if he still loved me. Before I could speak, Julian stood up and prepared to leave the bedroom. “There’s an emergency meeting at the office. I won’t be able to make it to your birthday dinner tonight.” I grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. He pulled his arm back sharply, his voice laced with annoyance. “Can you stop being so needy for once?” Three years ago, Julian would have canceled a multi-million-dollar deal just to spend my birthday with me. Now, he just brushed me off and told me to grow up. I stared blankly at his cold, impatient face. After a long silence, he sighed and patted my head. “I’ll come back to celebrate with you as soon as the meeting is over.” I watched his retreating back in silence, slowly lowering my eyes. I used to ask Julian silly questions. I would grab his sleeve and ask, “Would you still love me if I turned into an ugly bug? What if I turned into a tiger?” Every single time, Julian would look at me tenderly and say, “No matter what you become, Elena, I will always love you.” Back then, I was sure of his love. But now, I didn’t even dare to ask him if he still loved me.

The birthday party was canceled. I sat alone in the dining room, staring at the cake on the table. In moments like this, I desperately wanted someone to be with me. But back when I chose to be with Julian, I had a massive falling out with my family. My parents refused to see me. After we got married, Julian kept me in his mansion. I quit my job and became a full-time housewife. My old friends had gradually drifted away. Now, besides Julian, I couldn’t find a single person to talk to. With trembling fingers, I placed the candles on the cake and made a quiet wish in my heart. “I hope Mom and Dad stay healthy.” “And finally, happy birthday to me.” I blew out the candles in one breath, wiped away my tears, and scooped a dollop of frosting into my mouth. The cream was too sweet—so sweet that it tasted bitter.

After we married, Julian gave me a credit card and deposited a large sum of money into it every month. But because I had made successful investments before our marriage, I had never touched his card. Today, I decided to use his card to buy myself a designer bag as a birthday gift from him. Since our driver was on leave, I had to take a cab to the mall. Just as I paid the driver and prepared to get out, a familiar black Bentley pulled up a few yards away. The door opened, and Julian stepped out, a soft smile playing on his lips. My heart skipped a beat. Was he lying about the emergency meeting just to surprise me with a birthday gift? He used to do things like this all the time. He would pretend he couldn’t make it, let me cry my eyes out, and then show up with flowers and gifts to wipe away my tears. He would say he just wanted to surprise me, and I would make him promise never to lie to me again. Back then, his eyes were full of love and tenderness. Was he doing it again? I smiled and made a face at him through the window. Just as I was about to roll down the window to tell him his little game was up, a young, pretty girl suddenly threw herself into his arms. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you?” she whined cutely. Julian looked down at her, his eyes filled with a tenderness I hadn’t seen in years. He whispered something in her ear. The girl blushed, tapping his chest playfully. “Be serious!” Julian chuckled, caught her wrist, and planted a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. “I’ll always be here for you,” he murmured. They held each other tightly under the setting sun, looking like the perfect, madly-in-love couple.

Julian had said those exact words to me once. It was the year I turned twenty-five. James’s surgery had failed. In the middle of the night, I was wandering aimlessly down the cold streets of New York. Julian threw his jacket over my shoulders and followed me silently for blocks. Only when I broke down, having nowhere left to go, did he pull me into his arms. His voice was incredibly gentle. “Elena, I will always be here for you.” Julian was only eighteen that year. His love was fierce, raw, and honest. Whenever I rejected him, he would just kiss me anyway, forcing his way into my life with an unstoppable passion.

A light rain started to fall in the evening. When Julian came home, I was standing in front of the mirror, analyzing every inch of my face. My eyes were still bright, my skin fair, my lips rosy. But age doesn’t lie. I knew I was no longer young. I had lost that vibrant spark. I looked like a dead, stagnant lake. A warm, large hand suddenly wrapped around my waist. Julian leaned down and hugged me from behind. “Why are you crying?” he asked, surprised. I lowered my eyes, my voice flat. “I accidentally poked my eye while removing my makeup.” Julian let out a soft laugh, turned me around, and carefully examined my face. He gently rubbed my eyelid with his thumb. “Still so clumsy.” Feeling the warmth of his thumb, I looked at him through my tear-filled eyes and asked quietly, “Do you still love me?” His hand froze, then slowly pulled away. Julian leaned against the bathroom doorframe, his expression unreadable. “Why are you asking that?” I stood there, still clutching the edge of his sleeve, staring at him. After a long pause, he sighed, wiped the tears from my face, and carried me out of the bathroom. “You’re a grown woman. Why do you still need to be coddled like a little girl?” Before going to sleep, Julian brushed my hair aside and put a necklace around my neck. “Happy birthday, Elena.” I clenched my fists under the blanket, forcing my voice to sound calm. “Your meeting ran really late today. Did everything go well?” Julian paused for a second before replying smoothly, “Yes.” I stared at his back as he turned away from me. “It’s late. Go to sleep.” My eyes remained open all night. Only after I was sure Julian was fast asleep did I sit up. I quietly took his phone from the nightstand and unlocked it. A long time ago, Julian had registered my fingerprint on his phone. We had dated for two years and been married for five. I trusted him completely and had never once checked his phone. Perhaps because of that trust, Julian had no guard up against me. His Snapchat was filled with flirty, intimate messages with that young girl. Her name was Chloe, a new intern at his company. He had saved her contact name as “Sweet.” When Chloe complained about her long commute from her cheap apartment, Julian immediately rented a luxury high-rise apartment for her right next to the office. He even went furniture shopping with her. Pink bedsheets, a bright yellow sofa, even the kitchen plates—they had built a sweet little love nest together, piece by piece. My fingers trembled as I scrolled down. Before Julian came home tonight, Chloe had sent him a picture. She was wearing a pink topaz necklace around her delicate collarbone. “I love pink. Only old women wear that tacky blue tourmaline.” Julian’s reply: “You’re right. You’re the prettiest. You look way better than any gemstone.” I reached up and gripped the blue tourmaline necklace hanging around my neck. I felt like I was drowning in the deep ocean, suffocating. My tears dripped onto the screen. I wiped them away and kept scrolling. It turned out that six months ago, Julian had taken Chloe to Paris. They had held hands and carved “I love you” on a wall in Montmartre. Their last messages were from right before he came home. Chloe had demanded impatiently: “When are you going to divorce that old woman?” “I hate sharing you. The thought of you being in the same house as her makes me sick.” Julian’s reply was short: “I’ll handle it soon.” Looking at the cute emojis he used, I felt a wave of misery. Since when did the cold, mature Julian start using such childish emojis? Julian had also sent Chloe a thirty-three-second voice note. I transcribed it to read: “Sweet, don’t be sad. I love you, and I’m yours. We have a lifetime ahead of us. Don’t worry about the obstacles right now. I’ll handle everything and come to you.”

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My sister, Audrey, discovered my online relationship on Snapchat and immediately ratted me out to our parents. Little did she know, my online boyfriend was actually the sole heir to a massive billionaire empire. After his identity was revealed, our parents completely changed their attitude, treating me like royalty, and I successfully married into the elite class. Audrey, on the other hand, was forced to marry Oliver—the notorious abuser our parents had originally promised me to—and suffered endless domestic violence. While I lived a life of ultimate luxury and glamor, Audrey’s jealousy drove her mad. She eventually ran me over with her car, killing me on the spot. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back. I saw Audrey secretly copying down my online boyfriend’s Snapchat username. I knew right then that she had reborn too. She looked down at me with a smirk, declaring that in this life, she would be the one to marry the billionaire and crush me under her designer heels. What she didn’t realize was that the “billionaire heir” from our previous life was a trap I had carefully laid out just for her.

When I opened my eyes, Audrey was going through my phone. She was frowning, but instead of screaming and throwing a tantrum like she did in our past life, she pulled out her own phone and quickly wrote something down. I realized instantly: she had reborn with me. She had returned to the exact moment she first discovered my online romance. In our past life, the moment she found those messages, she couldn’t wait to run to Mom and Dad. She called me a slinger, accusing me of cheating on the fiancé our parents had chosen for me. That got me a brutal beating from Dad. But Audrey wasn’t satisfied. She actually invited my online boyfriend to our house. She wanted to watch Mom and Dad humiliate him. She wanted to see me break down in tears, forced to break up with the guy I loved. My parents were furious too, ready to kick the “broke loser” out of our house. But when my online boyfriend pulled up in a limited-edition Ferrari, wearing a bespoke suit and looking incredibly handsome and powerful, they were completely stunned. That was how they found out he was Royce, the sole heir to the multi-billion-dollar fortune. My parents’ attitude did a complete 180-degree turn. Audrey’s eyes had practically popped out of her head with rage. That single meeting completely swapped our destinies. I was originally supposed to be sold off to Oliver, a local brute, because our parents had taken a $100,000 “advance” from him. With Royce in the picture, Audrey was forced to take my place and marry Oliver. I married Royce and entered high society, while Audrey was beaten by Oliver so badly she spent half her life in the hospital. Eventually, unable to take the abuse and unable to stand my happiness, she found an opportunity and ran me over. It seemed that in this life, she had no intention of telling our parents about my online boyfriend. “Audrey, what are you doing with my phone?” I asked quietly. She jumped, startled to find me awake. “Elena, you already have a fiancé. How dare you cheat on him online?” “If I tell Mom and Dad, they’ll literally break your legs.” I didn’t say a word, just stared at her. She let out a cold snort. “Whatever. You’re my sister after all. I’ve already blocked and deleted him for you.” “Consider this a warning. If I catch you talking to this guy again, don’t blame me for what happens next.” I nodded obediently. She smirked triumphantly and walked out of my room, completely satisfied. I knew exactly what she was planning. She was going to add Royce on Snapchat using her own account, pretending she had just changed her username.

Over the next few days, Audrey couldn’t stop giggling at her phone. This morning, she suddenly gave me a smug, meaningful look before turning to our parents at the breakfast table. “Mom, Dad, I’m bringing my boyfriend over to meet you today.” “I’m marrying into the elite class.” My parents stared at her, their eyes wide with shock. They quickly asked if she was serious. Audrey raised her chin proudly. “Of course I am. And do you know who he is?” She paused for dramatic effect, making sure we were all looking at her, before letting out a slow, proud breath. “He’s the heir to a massive billionaire empire.” “I have a date with him today. I’ll bring him by so you can see how amazing he is.” I heard my parents gasp in disbelief. Audrey walked over to me, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Elena, I’m in a great mood today, so I’ve prepared a little gift for you too.” I looked at her calmly. The malice and calculation in her eyes were practically dripping.

Just like in our previous life, our family stood on the driveway in front of our suburban house, waiting. In our past life, Audrey chose this spot because she wanted the entire neighborhood to watch me get humiliated. She didn’t expect that it would turn into my moment of glory. This time, she wanted that glory for herself. She had put on heavy, flawless makeup. The three of them stared down the street with intense anticipation. Finally, a sleek red Ferrari pulled up right in front of our driveway. Audrey’s eyes lit up, and she rushed forward immediately. My parents looked confused for a second, then hurried after her. Royce stepped out of the car, instantly capturing everyone’s attention. He was incredibly handsome, with a cold, aristocratic air that made him look like a Hollywood movie star. “Babe, you’re here!” Audrey blushed, instantly throwing herself toward Royce. My parents stood up straight, suddenly looking incredibly tense and out of place. “Are the Wellingtons getting rich? Audrey actually bagged a wealthy, handsome guy!” “What kind of luck is that?” “Audrey was always the smart one. No wonder her parents always preferred her.” “With a boyfriend like that, Elena won’t even be fit to wipe her shoes for the rest of her life.” Our neighbors, who were out mowing their lawns, gossiped with a mix of envy and jealousy. My parents beamed with pride, just like they did in our past life. Audrey turned and flashed a triumphant smile at me. She didn’t notice that when Royce looked down at her, his brow furrowed in slight irritation.

Royce drove off with Audrey in his Ferrari, leaving under the envious glares of the entire neighborhood. My parents stood taller than ever, bursting with pride. “See that? Audrey was born to be a princess. Some people are just born losers, destined to rot in the mud,” my dad sneered, glaring at me. My mom rolled her eyes at me with disgust. “Well, she’s marrying Oliver sooner or later anyway. The sooner she moves out, the better.” Just as she said that, a heavily built, intimidating man walked up our driveway. It was Oliver. “Audrey told me you guys wanted me to take Elena home to live with me. I’m here to pick her up.” He grinned, his dirty, predatory eyes scanning my body. My parents froze, then quickly called Audrey. On speakerphone, Audrey’s voice sounded cold and manipulative. “Mom, Dad, Elena is a curse to this family. I finally got a billionaire boyfriend.” “If she stays at home, she might scare him away! Since she has to marry Oliver anyway, she might as well move in with him now.” My parents exchanged a look and decided she was right. “Elena, pack your bags and go with Oliver,” Dad ordered. I looked at them with numb eyes. I wasn’t surprised by their decision at all. Oliver rubbed his hands together excitedly. He had a bit of money, but his favorite hobby was using women as punching bags. He had already beaten two of his previous wives to death. He always targeted girls whose families didn’t care about them. That way, even if he killed them, he could just pay a small settlement, and the family wouldn’t press charges. He had set his sights on me even before his last wife died in the hospital. Because everyone in our town knew my parents hated me. Once I married him, he could lock the doors and torture me however he wanted, and no one would care.

I grabbed my single suitcase and followed Oliver to his apartment. The moment he locked the door behind us, he turned and sized me up. “You have a pretty face, but you look so fragile. I wonder how long you’ll last with me.” I stared at him calmly. He rushed into his bedroom and came out with a pile of things. “Put this on, then get down on your knees and lick my boots clean.” He threw a skimpy, ridiculous outfit at me, kicked off his shoes, and sat back on his sofa. A foul, sweaty stench instantly filled the living room. I looked at the scraps of fabric, then smiled at him. He smirked, pleased with himself. “Good. You seem obedient. Those other bitches always cried and screamed the moment I asked them to do anything.” “It pissed me off, so they deserved every beating they got.” I nodded, walking slowly toward him. “You’re right. People who make others angry do deserve to be beaten.” “Exactly, so you’d better—ah! What the fuck!” Before Oliver could finish his sentence, I kicked him squarely in the stomach. I let out a cold laugh, and a rain of heavy, brutal punches crashed down on him. He screamed in agony, collapsing to the floor. Audrey thought that by putting me with Oliver, I would suffer the same brutal fate she did in our past life. But what she didn’t know was that the moment I realized my parents didn’t love me—the moment I realized they wanted to sell me to Oliver—I started training in Muay Thai for two hours every single day. I wasn’t the one who was going to be screaming on the floor. “Stop! Please, stop! Help! Help me!” Oliver couldn’t even fight back. I pinned him down, completely dominating him. I looked down at him with ice-cold eyes. “And here I thought you were tough. You’re just a coward who only knows how to abuse weak women.” “Elena, please stop! I’m sorry! I won’t ever touch you again, I swear!” He screamed, terrified. I stopped only after holding a fist inches from his nose, watching him tremble in pure terror. “If you ever annoy me again, I will beat you every single time I see you. Got it?” “Yes! Yes, I got it!” he nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face. Looking at his swollen, bruised face, I turned and walked out of the apartment.

That night, Audrey called me to gloat. Her voice was dripping with cruel excitement. “Elena, are you broken yet? Are you crying in some dark corner of his apartment?” “Let me tell you, Royce and I are getting married soon.” “You will always be a piece of trash compared to me.” I chuckled and hung up the phone. Honestly, when we were kids, my parents didn’t hate me this much. But Audrey was masterfully evil. She loved to manipulate them. She would break expensive things in the house and blame it on me. She spread disgusting rumors about me in school, making our relatives and neighbors think I was a juvenile delinquent. When my grades were better than hers, she accused me of cheating, leading to me being severely bullied at school. She would often look at our mother with a sigh and say: “Mom, I really wanted a little brother. It’s such a shame Elena was born a girl.” “Do you think she’s a curse? Since she was born, you haven’t been able to get pregnant again.” Over time, my parents started looking at me like I was their sworn enemy. They truly believed I was a curse on their lives, no matter how much I denied it. I used to fight it. I begged for their love, threw tantrums, and lost my mind. I was their daughter. I desperately wanted them to love me, even just a little bit. But over the years, countless moments taught me a harsh truth: some parents simply do not love their children. Once I accepted that, the pain faded, leaving me numb. Audrey thought that by stealing Royce, she could rewrite her destiny and keep me under her thumb. She probably never imagined in her wildest dreams that the billionaire heir was a trap I had prepared for her. I moved into my own apartment, and Oliver didn’t dare to stop me. Audrey kept posting photos of Royce’s luxury cars on her Instagram. She posted daily updates, bragging about how much Royce loved her. But people in her comment section kept asking: *“Why is the billionaire heir never in any of your photos?”* Audrey would reply: *“He values his privacy.”* I smiled when I saw that. Was it really about privacy? Today, my mom called me, saying Royce was coming over to discuss the wedding. She demanded I bring Oliver along. When Oliver and I arrived at the house, Royce was leaning elegantly against the sofa. His dark, unreadable eyes swept over me.

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I was slacking off at work when I stumbled across a juicy Reddit thread. The title read: [Gen Z Intern Exposes the So-Called “Most Employee-Friendly” Company.] As I scrolled through the details, my brow furrowed. The description looked suspiciously familiar. I immediately called an all-hands meeting to ask if anyone was unhappy with our company benefits. Before I could even finish my sentence, Georgina, our newly hired intern, stood up. “Honestly, Jessica, I don’t think our benefits are that great,” she said, tossing her hair. “If we’re really trying to build a ‘humane’ workplace, the company should provide free housing and a private shuttle service to pick us up and drop us off every day.” I literally gave each employee a $1,500 monthly stipend to cover rent and transit. That was more than enough for anyone to rent a nice place and Uber to work. So, I shut her down. But to be fair, I told everyone they could vote: they could either keep the cash stipends or switch to company-provided housing. Once they reached a consensus, they could let me know. I didn’t expect that very night, the Reddit OP would update the post. [Update: The boss totally lost her mind and is threatening to cancel housing stipends. Huge red flag. Avoid Firefly Creative at all costs!]

Reading the post, I was finally certain of the OP’s identity. It was Georgina, our new intern. After all, Firefly Creative was the boutique company I had founded. Under her post, the comment section was already blowing up. [OMG! Is this Firefly? That’s literally my dream company! I heard they have an amazing four-day workweek!] Georgina replied: [You guys are so naive. Sure, it’s a four-day workweek, but you’ll end up working until midnight every single day.] [No way! Firefly is famous for its perks. My company only gives me a $50 transit allowance. I heard Firefly gives like a grand.] Georgina argued back: [So what? What if you live far away? A grand sounds like a lot, but it doesn’t buy back the time you waste commuting!] The commenter actually bought her logic and agreed. Then, someone else chimed in: [I heard a rumor that the owner of Firefly is actually a billionaire heiress. She only started the company for fun.] I had no idea where they got that gossip. But they weren’t wrong. My family is rich. Very, very rich. Even if I did absolutely nothing for the rest of my life, my generational wealth could easily fund ten lifetimes of luxury. I only started this company because I was bored out of my mind. In the beginning, I didn’t care about scaling up or making massive profits. I just wanted to create a highly humane, stress-free workplace. That’s why I made the benefits ridiculously good. We worked two days, took a day off, worked another two days, and then had a two-day weekend. It basically amounted to a four-day workweek. Not only that, but the $1,500 stipend was always paid on time. If anyone struggled with their first month’s rent deposit, they could even get an advance on that money. Whenever I wanted iced coffee, I ordered Starbucks for the entire office. For holidays and birthdays, I always curated personalized gifts and surprises. Compared to actual management, I just enjoyed the vibe of taking care of people. Even if the company didn’t make a dime, I had more than enough money to feed everyone forever. However, because the benefits were too good, my employees used to feel incredibly guilty. To repay my kindness, they worked their butts off. In three years, instead of burning money, we actually made a killer profit. Even my parents were shocked by my success. That was the only reason I had kept the company running for three years. But the internet trolls didn’t see it that way. The comments were turning into a total warzone. [Oh, so she’s a trust-fund baby? No wonder she doesn’t know how to run a real business. She’s just playing house.] [The only reason the company hasn’t gone bankrupt is because her daddy funds it.] [Exactly. That’s why none of their employees brag online. Who knows if the perks are even real?] [Working for a boss like that is lowkey terrifying. If you offend her, she could blackball you from the whole industry.] I stared at my phone, completely speechless. Did it ever occur to them that my employees didn’t brag online because they didn’t want the competition? After all, my turnover rate was virtually zero. Over the last three years, the number of people who had voluntarily resigned could be counted on one hand. Instead of commenting, I copied the Reddit link and dropped it directly into our company Slack channel. I wanted to see exactly how Georgina would react.

After I shared the link, the Slack channel went dead silent for a solid thirty minutes. Finally, the first notification popped up. It was Georgina. [Yeah, I made the post. So what? I’m just starting a healthy workplace discussion!] A “healthy discussion”? She was literally spreading flat-out lies. I didn’t bother arguing with her on Slack. I just typed out a brief message. [Meeting tomorrow at 9 AM. We’re putting this to rest once and for all.] I thought I had made myself clear yesterday. I wasn’t against company-provided housing. I just told them to discuss it, come to a unanimous decision, and let me know so I could make the arrangements. Who knew they would turn it into a conspiracy theory? Moreover, I noticed that although the other employees remained silent, they were clearly swaying. Having worked with them for so long, I knew them inside out. They loved the company perks, and usually, they loved interacting with me. Before this, no matter what I posted in Slack, everyone would react with emojis and sweet messages. Today? Crickets. It looked like Georgina hadn’t just been whispering behind my back—she had successfully brainwashed them. The next morning, when I walked into the conference room, everyone was already seated. The atmosphere was completely different from yesterday. It was heavy, tense, and cold. I walked to the front of the room, rested my hands on the table, and before I could even open my mouth, a voice cut through the silence. “So, Jessica, have you figured out how you’re going to fix this?” I followed the voice and saw Georgina looking at me, her chin tilted up with sheer arrogance. For a second, I couldn’t tell if she was just young and stupid, or if she was actively trying to sabotage my company. I ignored her completely, turned my gaze to the rest of the team, and asked, “What do the rest of you think?” Silence stretched for a few agonizing seconds. Finally, Sarah, one of our senior employees, spoke up. “Jessica, honestly, I also think company housing would be much more convenient. Georgina might be young, but she has a point.” “We didn’t think about it before, but since Georgina brought it up, I support the idea.” I nodded, keeping my face blank. I remembered when Sarah first interviewed here. I had asked about her career gap, and she told me how hard it was for a mother to re-enter the corporate world. So, I hired her. For three years, she had been a dedicated, hardworking employee who always expressed how grateful she was for this job. This was the very first time she had ever challenged me. Then, another employee chimed in. “Yeah! Last month, my landlord suddenly decided to sell the place, and I had to scramble to move. If the company provided housing, we wouldn’t have to deal with that kind of stress.” With Sarah taking the lead, the floodgates opened. “I agree! It would take a huge load off our shoulders so we can focus on work.” Throughout the discussion, I could feel Georgina smirking at me from the corner of my eye. When almost everyone had spoken, the two quiet girls sitting in the back, Grace and Margaret, stood up. “Jessica, we don’t have any complaints. We’re happy with whatever the company decides.” These two had joined last year. They were extremely introverted and had struggled to find jobs elsewhere because of it. Although they weren’t big talkers in the office, their Slack DMs to me were always filled with genuine gratitude. To say I didn’t feel hurt by the others would be a lie. But these two girls managed to warm my heart, bringing a sense of calm back to me. But before I could speak, Georgina let out a loud, dramatic sigh. “Are you guys stupid? We’re literally trying to fight for our rights here. Unbelievable!” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her. She was a fresh graduate. During her interview a week ago, she seemed like a sweet, polite girl. I had no idea she was actually a toxic drama queen. I curled my lips into a cold smile and said quietly, “Since you’ve all reached a consensus, we will implement this starting next month.” “The company will provide shared housing and a daily shuttle. Consequently, all housing and commuting cash stipends are canceled.” I gave them exactly what they asked for. Yet, the moment the words left my mouth, their faces turned pale.

I didn’t care about their reaction. I simply closed my laptop. “If there’s nothing else, meeting adjourned.” I waited two seconds. No one spoke, so I turned to walk out of the room. But just as my hand touched the doorknob, Georgina’s voice shrilled behind me again. “Jessica, what is that supposed to mean? Are you trying to threaten us by taking away our stipends?” I turned around, looking at her in genuine confusion. “How on earth did you reach that conclusion?” She crossed her arms, her tone incredibly self-righteous. “If you aren’t trying to threaten us, why are you canceling our $1,500 cash stipends?” For a second, I didn’t grasp the level of audacity she was operating on. I asked flatly, “Didn’t you guys just say you wanted company-provided housing?” “Yeah, but why do we have to lose our cash stipends just because you’re giving us housing?” Georgina barked. “Aren’t you a billionaire heiress? How can you be so cheap?!” Hearing the sheer entitlement in her voice, I almost laughed out loud. If I didn’t get what they were playing at now, I’d be a complete idiot. I swept my eyes over the rest of the room. Every single one of them had a look of silent agreement on their faces. Wow. So after all this drama, they wanted both. They wanted the $1,500 cash and free luxury housing with a private chauffeur. Did they think money grew on trees? Since they chose to treat me like a brainless cash cow instead of a boss, I had no intention of spoiling them anymore. I grew up with parents who never let me suffer a single day of disrespect. Why should I take attitude from my own employees? I slammed my laptop onto the table, my voice dropping to a freezing temperature. “You want free housing, private shuttles, and the cash stipends? Are you guys delusional, or do you just think I’m an idiot?” “Look at the market. Tell me, which company offers better perks than I do?” “And yet, you’re letting a fresh-out-of-college intern manipulate you like puppets. Pathetic.” Seeing my genuine anger, the rest of the employees finally looked guilty. They shifted in their seats, refusing to meet my eyes. Clearly, I had been too nice for too long, making them believe I had no spine. While the others stayed quiet, Georgina kept barking. “It’s just $1,500! Do you really need to be this dramatic? It’s not like you’re hurting for cash!” “Or is that billionaire heiress title of yours actually fake?” I didn’t understand where her intense malice came from. But I didn’t care to investigate. Whether she was just young and dumb, or consumed by jealousy, she was absolutely nothing to me. I didn’t need her approval, and I certainly didn’t owe her an explanation. I gave her a long, cold stare before addressing the room. “Since none of you actually care about reasonable perks, this discussion is over.” “We will keep the current system as it is. And from now on, I will no longer accept any requests for benefits changes.” Then, I locked my eyes onto Georgina, my voice laced with warning. “And you—instead of wasting your time plotting workplace rebellions, you should start worrying about whether you’ll even pass your internship.” “Because if you don’t, the company’s amazing benefits won’t have anything to do with you.” I rarely fired anyone, but she had officially blacklisted herself in my book. Hearing my underlying threat, Georgina’s face flushed a deep, angry red. I let out a mental scoff and turned to the rest of the room. “If anyone is unhappy with the company’s current benefits, you are free to hand in your resignation. I won’t stop you.” “But if anyone tries to pull another stunt like this under my roof, don’t blame me for getting ugly.” This time, when I walked out, nobody dared to say a word. However, by the end of the workday, not a single person had resigned. I didn’t think much of it and headed straight home. But that night, when I opened Reddit to check on the thread, I saw that Georgina had updated it again. This time, the post read: [Billionaire heiress my ass. She’s just some old rich guy’s kept sugar baby.] [No wonder she’s so cheap. Guess her sugar daddy isn’t giving her enough allowance!]

I zoomed in on the attached photo. It was a picture of my dad picking me up from work today. The photo only caught the back of my head, but my dad’s face was clear as day. Judging by the angle, it was taken secretly from the office lobby. As soon as the photo was posted, the internet mob immediately began tearing me apart. [Ew, that guy looks old enough to be her dad.] [Society is so trash. Even side chicks can open companies now. Anyone know who his wife is?] [I do! Isn’t that the CEO of SKY Group? I’m going to DM their official Instagram right now!] [This sugar baby is disgusting. If I were the wife, I’d ruin her life.] Of course, there were a few rational people in the comments. [Isn’t it a bit much to make up rumors like this? What if that’s literally just her dad? Didn’t you guys say she’s a billionaire heiress?] Georgina immediately clapped back at the rational commenter. [Are you seriously defending her? Are you a side chick too?] [Also, I’m not making things up. I looked it up online. The CEO of SKY Group is named Mr. Rodriguez, but Jessica’s last name is Vance!] I let out a cold laugh. She had done some homework, but unfortunately, she was still an idiot. The CEO of SKY Group was indeed Mr. Rodriguez. But the actual Chairman of the entire conglomerate was Mrs. Vance—my mother. My dad had married into my mother’s old-money family, which meant he basically worked for my mom. I proudly carried my mother’s surname. Instead of arguing in the comments, I forwarded the link to my family’s personal attorney. [Please send a cease-and-desist letter and prepare a defamation lawsuit for everyone in this thread who is fabricating rumors about me, starting with Georgina.] I hated drama. I preferred solving my problems with quick, brutal efficiency. Once my lawyer replied with a professional ‘Understood,’ I went to sleep. But to my surprise, before my lawyer’s letters could even be sent, my employees decided to double down. The next morning, as soon as I sat down in my office, my laptop kept pinging with new email notifications. I clicked on them. Every single one was a resignation letter. Even the reasons they wrote were identical. It was clearly a coordinated strike. If they thought they could intimidate me with a mass walkout, they were sorely mistaken. I chuckled, and right on cue, someone tagged me in the Slack group chat. “Jessica, please approve my resignation. Thanks!” “Jessica, mine too.” I took a screenshot of my flooded inbox and dropped it into the group chat. I typed: [Georgina convinced you all to quit, yet she hasn’t sent in her own resignation.] The chat went dead silent. A few minutes later, Georgina typed back defensively: [My internet was just lagging!] Almost instantly, her resignation letter popped up in my inbox. I nodded in satisfaction. Since they wanted to stand in solidarity, they might as well go down together. I didn’t reply to any of them, nor did I approve the letters yet. Instead, I called Grace and Margaret into my office. Nobody knew what we discussed during that hour. All I knew was that the moment they stepped out, the rest of the office pounced on them. “Grace, what did Jessica say to you? Did she ask you to convince us to stay?” Before Grace could even answer, Georgina scoffed loudly. “Of course she did! If we all leave, the company will literally fall apart. She’s desperate.” Grace ignored the noise and simply looked at them with pity. “You guys are going to regret this.” The office erupted into mocking laughter. It was at that exact moment that I opened my office door and stepped out. The laughter died down instantly. I swept my gaze across the smug faces in the room and said calmly, “Everyone, conference room. Now.” Once everyone was seated, their faces practically glowing with triumph, I couldn’t help but curl my lips into a smile. “I didn’t approve your resignations immediately because I wanted to make sure your final paychecks are calculated correctly before you leave.” “We will do this one by one. Once your paycheck is settled, I’ll approve your resignation. Let’s begin.”

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An emergency dispatch came in at midnight. An apartment building was on fire, with a couple trapped inside. When I burst through the flames, I saw Samantha, my wife of seven years, lying naked and wrapping her arms around another man. Both of them were semi-unconscious from the heavy smoke, but Samantha was still mumbling that man’s name. Later, I let go of the past and filed for divorce to start my new life. But Samantha regretted it. She held onto me tightly, crying and claiming I was her only true love. She thought I would soft-hearted again, but everyone around us just laughed at her: “Is she crazy? His kid is already in school, and she’s still here begging for a second chance!” Thick smoke billowed through the hallway. I navigated through the darkness, breathing heavily through my oxygen mask. Our station got the dispatch call in the middle of the night. It happened to be my shift. A neighbor had called 911. The fire started in the kitchen of the adjacent apartment. By the time the neighbor woke up coughing from the smoke and called for help, the fire had already spread. It was a messy situation. “The caller said a young couple lives here. Once we’re inside, we split into two search-and-rescue teams,” I ordered. I took the lead and kicked the door open. But before I could give the signal to split up, I froze. Right past the doorway, a naked woman lay slumped on the floor. It looked like she had used every ounce of her strength to crawl to the exit, only to collapse at the very last second. Not far from her lay a naked man. Their bodies were tangled together. The woman’s face was one I knew better than my own—it was Samantha, my wife, whom I had loved for eight years. And the man beside her was no stranger either. It was Julian, her childhood best friend. Standing in the swirling black smoke, I felt like I had been hit by a bolt of lightning. My mind went completely blank. Just before I left for my shift tonight, Samantha had wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me passionately. Because of the danger of my job, I went into every shift prepared for the worst. Samantha always worried about me. Every time she saw me off, she would cling to me, refusing to let go. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I prayed the toxic smoke was making me hallucinate. Was I dying? Was this a nightmare? Beside me was Mason, my best friend on the squad. He knew Samantha. He recognized her instantly, lying there completely naked. I could feel him stiffen beside me, shocked into silence. Through the haze, Samantha wasn’t fully unconscious yet. Spotting the flashlights of the rescue crew, she found a burst of weak strength. She mumbled: “Julian… Julian… don’t be scared… they’re here to save us… hold on…” My body shook violently. My last shred of hope shattered into dust. It was so disgusting. So painful. My head felt like it was going to explode. Someone nudged me from behind. It was my teammates. I forced my body to move like a machine. I didn’t even remember how we carried out the rescue. I didn’t remember how we dragged those two naked bodies out of the burning apartment. I threw a blanket over them. Even as they were loaded into the ambulance, barely conscious, their hands remained tightly clasped together. I collapsed onto the pavement. My teammates rushed over, checking on me in confusion. They had never seen me like this and thought I was physically hurt. I was hurt. In my rush to get out, I had scraped my wrist against a sharp metal hook on the doorframe. A chunk of flesh was gone, and blood was dripping onto the concrete. An EMT rushed over to bandage me. Surrounded by the flashing red and blue lights, I was pushed toward an ambulance. I didn’t know where I was going, and I didn’t care. The pain was unbearable. But it wasn’t my wrist. My entire body felt numb. It was weird. The cut was deep, and there was so much blood. It should have stung. But I felt nothing. All I knew was that tonight, Samantha, the woman I had cherished for eight years, had dealt me a fatal blow. It hurt a hundred times worse than dying in that fire.

I curled up on a bench in the hospital hallway. Just a wall away, Samantha and her beloved Julian were being treated. I was in a daze, unable to separate reality from a nightmare. Samantha was my first love, the first girl I had ever opened my heart to. I loved her with everything I had. I did everything to make her happy. Our first meeting felt like a gentle touch of fate. It was a sunny afternoon at the college library. She was sitting by the window, a soft beam of light catching the edges of her hair. At that moment, time had stopped. Samantha was beautiful and smart. Her smile could warm the coldest winter, and I fell hard and fast. Our love grew deeper with each passing season, solid and comforting. Then Julian came back, like a sudden storm that wrecked our quiet life. He was Samantha’s childhood friend, a fashion designer. We had met a few times. At first, I thought he was just a charming, artsy guy. My job as a firefighter meant I worked long, grueling shifts. Overtime was normal. I spent my rare free days working on side gigs, wanting to build a better financial future for Samantha. Samantha used to tease me, calling me an “unromantic block of wood.” But her eyes had always been full of love. But as Julian hung around more and more, things changed. Julian always knew how to make her laugh. He took her to fancy art galleries and trendy parties—things I couldn’t afford or didn’t have time for. With my crazy schedule, I started to feel inadequate. I kept telling myself that Samantha’s feelings for Julian were strictly platonic. But insecurity grew in my heart like weeds. His presence threw a shadow over our marriage. Still, I trusted her. Our bond was built on years of shared dreams. I started blaming myself. I realized I shouldn’t neglect her just because I was working hard. In fact, I had planned to take her on a romantic getaway to Hawaii right after this shift. I never, not even in my worst nightmares, thought Samantha would cheat on me. That was why the pain was so agonizing. The trust I had held onto so fiercely had turned into a knife in my chest. Footsteps echoed in the hallway. I buried my face in my knees, too broken to let anyone see me. “Logan?” A soft, gentle voice called out. I blinked and looked up. A nurse holding a medical tray stood before me, looking incredibly worried. “I’m on duty tonight,” she said softly. “Mason told me what happened. He asked me to check on you.” It was Lily, Mason’s younger sister. Seeing a familiar, kind face, the dam broke. All my agony rushed to the surface. I choked back a sob, desperate to let it out: “Why? Why would she do this to me?” “What did I do wrong?” Samantha, why?

I cried like a child, completely losing my grip. Lily placed her tray on the bench and sat beside me, gently patting my shoulder. “Let it out, Logan. You don’t have to be strong right now.” “I checked her chart. Samantha is fine. Just some mild smoke inhalation. She’ll be discharged tomorrow after a quick checkup. But that guy…” “He has some minor burns on his legs. They’re keeping him for another day.” “Logan… what are you going to do?” I shook my head in utter despair. My mind drifted back to the past. I remembered the day we stood at the altar. Our vows echoed in my ears like they were spoken yesterday. I had been so full of hope. Samantha and I had a whirlwind romance, but her parents disapproved of us from the start. I was an orphan. I had no family, and my job as a firefighter was dangerous and demanding. Samantha was a girl who wanted to be pampered and showered with romantic gestures. My life was rough. I spent my days surrounded by gruff men and burning buildings. My hands were calloused, and my life was simple. Her parents told her flat out that I couldn’t give her the dream lifestyle she wanted. I almost walked away back then, but Samantha fought for us. When her parents tried to set her up with rich ivy-league guys, she screamed: “No! I love Logan! Why are you doing this to me?” “He’s the only one I’ll ever marry!” At that moment, I swore to myself I would spend the rest of my life making her happy. On the day I finally proposed, Samantha looked into my eyes and said: “Everyone says I’m being childish, but I know what I want. I want to spend forever with you.” “I don’t know how long forever is, but I want you to come home safe from every shift.” “I’ll always be waiting at home to give you a big hug.” Those memories used to be my sanctuary. Now, they were poison. The numbness wore off, and the cut on my wrist began to throb with intense pain. “Lily, you know…” I whispered, my voice cracking. “When I was just a rookie making pennies, I had no idea what the future held.” “But Samantha told me I was her future.” “When I kicked that door open tonight, I expected a lot of things. But not her.” “They were naked, Lily. And she was screaming his name. It hurts so bad…” Lily wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Logan, you’re an amazing guy. Maybe… maybe it’s a misunderstanding?” “Think about it. She’s loved you for years. Maybe there’s an explanation.” “But no matter what you decide, Mason and I have your back.” I was an orphan. Samantha had given me my very first home. We had loved each other so deeply. I decided to give her one last chance. I would do it for the brave girl who had fought her family for me. Just one chance. If she came clean and begged for forgiveness, I would pretend this night never happened. Please, Samantha. Don’t make me regret this.

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I was scrolling through Reddit while eating breakfast. A title caught my eye: 【Documenting how my wife dies today.】 I thought it was just some idiot writing creative fiction and was about to swipe away. But the very first sentence froze me in my tracks. 【She should be finished with breakfast by now, the one I personally made for her. What she doesn’t know is that I slipped something into her milk.】 I looked down at the glass in my hand. Empty. I had just finished it. My fingers trembled slightly as I scrolled down. 【In three hours, she will drive to pick up our daughter. I tampered with her brake lines. They will completely fail when she crosses the bay bridge.】 【There are no cameras on that stretch of the road, no emergency lane, and the bridge is ninety feet above the water. She can’t swim.】 【Once she’s dead, everyone will think it was just a tragic accident.】 【I will be the heartbroken husband, clutching her photo and sobbing until I pass out. Everyone will pity me.】 【Perfect.】

The comment section was already blowing up. 【Is OP writing a thriller novel here?】 【I swear I’ve seen this exact plot on a true crime podcast.】 【Bro, does your wife know you’re fantasizing about her death on here? Lmao.】 【Someone call the cops, this guy is giving off major psycho vibes.】 But a few comments made a chill run down my spine. 【Wait, OP’s IP is in Riverdale? The bay bridge? Is he talking about the suspension bridge?】 【What time did OP post this? What time is it now? If you do the math, isn’t the time almost up?】 【Holy crap, is anyone going to go check on this??】 I stared at the screen, my hands shaking. Not out of fear. But because— My husband, Julian, was born and raised in Riverdale. We lived in the Riverdale district. Every single morning, I drank a glass of warm milk he prepared for me. I did plan to drive and pick up our daughter today. And that suspension bridge was the only route to her school. I raised my head and looked toward the kitchen. Julian was washing the dishes, his back to me. His shoulder blades moved slightly with his motions. We had been married for five years. Every morning, he got up earlier than me to make breakfast and warm up my milk. Everyone envied me, saying I married the most perfect, loving man in the world. “All done?” He turned around and smiled at me. “Want another glass?” “N-No, thank you,” I said, my voice sounding incredibly dry. He walked over and took the empty glass from my hand. As he passed by, he naturally placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Come back early today. I’ll make your favorite lasagna for dinner.” I nodded. The moment he walked back into the kitchen, I grabbed my phone and reopened the Reddit thread. Post time: 7:03 AM. Current time: 7:48 AM. The post said she would drive to pick up the kid in three hours. That would be around ten o’clock. I looked at the clock on the wall, then out the window— Our car, a silver Toyota, was parked in the driveway below. Julian had taken it in for maintenance last week. He told me it was just a routine checkup. Only now did I remember that the mechanic shop he used was owned by Marcus, his childhood best friend. I dialed my daughter’s preschool. “Miss Chloe, what time does Lily get dismissed today?” “Dismissal is at 4:20 PM as usual, Maya. Is everything okay?” “Yes, just checking. Thank you.” 4:20 PM. The post said she would go pick up the kid. But my pickup time was in the afternoon. Unless— My phone suddenly vibrated. It was an iMessage from Julian: 【Hey babe, can you pick up my mom today? She suddenly decided to come visit Lily. Her train gets to the station at 11:30 AM.】 【You should drive. I have to meet a client this afternoon.】 11:30 AM. To get to the train station by then, I would have to cross the suspension bridge at exactly ten o’clock. Holding my phone, I stared at the message, my entire body turning cold. Julian’s mother had visited us three months ago. She gets terrible motion sickness and absolutely hates traveling. Why would she suddenly want to visit her granddaughter now? And the train station— To get there, taking the suspension bridge was unavoidable. I slowly stood up, walked to the window, and looked down at the car. The silver Toyota gleamed under the morning sun. It looked completely normal. But if that Reddit post was true… I took a deep breath, opened my phone, and tapped back into the thread. I scrolled down to the latest update. It was from OP. 【7:52 AM. She finished the milk. Now she’s going to change her clothes.】 My hand clenched around my phone so hard my knuckles turned white. I had indeed just finished the milk. I was indeed about to go change. I whipped my head around. In the kitchen, Julian was still washing dishes. The sound of running water filled the air. His back was toward me, his shoulders relaxed. But then, I noticed a detail— His phone was sitting right on the counter next to the stove. The screen was lit. I couldn’t read the text from this distance, but I could see the layout— It was Reddit. In Dark Mode. The exact same interface I was looking at.

I don’t even remember how I managed to change my clothes. My fingers wouldn’t stop shaking, and it took me three tries just to zip up my dress. When I walked out of the bedroom, Julian was already sitting on the couch. Seeing me, he smiled. “Ready? Let me walk you down to the car.” “No need!” the words spilled out of my mouth. He blinked, looking surprised. Realizing I had overreacted, I quickly added, “Don’t you have to meet your client soon? I can walk down myself.” “I’ve got time.” He stood up, walked over, and naturally wrapped his arm around my waist. “I’ll walk you to the garage.” His arm was warm and strong, just like it had been every day for the past five years. But right now, it felt like a snake wrapping itself around my body. We were the only two people in the elevator. The mirrored walls reflected our reflection—he was half a head taller than me, looking down at me with gentle, loving eyes. Just like he did every time we went out. But today, I didn’t dare to look into his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “N-Nothing.” “Your hands are so cold.” He took my hand and frowned. “Did you skip breakfast again?” “No, I ate. I finished everything you made.” “Good.” The elevator doors opened at the garage level. He walked me to the car and pulled open the driver’s side door. I got in, and he leaned over to buckle my seatbelt for me. He had done this for five years, always meticulous and gentle. But today, his hand lingered on the seatbelt buckle for a second. Very brief. Maybe just a second or two. Then he stood back up and waved. “Drive safe. Let me know when you pick up Mom.” I nodded and started the engine. In the rearview mirror, he stood in his spot, watching me back out, turn, and drive out of the garage. Only when his figure completely disappeared did I dare to breathe heavily. I pulled over just outside our residential complex. The car sat idle. I took out my phone and reopened the Reddit thread. OP had updated again. 【8:47 AM. She’s out.】 【She’s driving the silver Toyota, license plate ending in 327. If you guys see her on the road, give her some space—not like she’ll need it for much longer anyway.】 【By the way, she seemed a little off just now. Maybe she noticed something? Doesn’t matter, she’ll still go. She’s far too obedient.】 My hands were shaking violently. “Too obedient.” That was what Julian always said to me. “You’re so obedient, Maya,” he would say, running his fingers through my hair, his tone so affectionate as if it were my greatest virtue. I didn’t know what to do. Call the police? Tell them I saw a post on Reddit saying my husband is trying to kill me? Would they even believe me? Call a friend? And say what? That I suspect my husband is trying to orchestrate a car crash to murder me? Even to my own ears, it sounded completely insane. I looked at the post again. 【9:12 AM. One hour left.】 One hour. In one hour, if I drove onto that bridge— I slammed my foot on the gas and turned into a narrow side alley. This road did not lead to the train station. I parked by the curb of a random street and dialed the school again. “Miss Chloe, it’s me.” “Maya? Is everything okay?” “I just wanted to ask… did Lily eat her lunch today?” “Yes, she did. She just finished. Is something wrong?” “No, nothing. I just… suddenly missed her.” “Haha, that’s totally normal for a mom. Dismissal is at 4:20 PM. Don’t be late!” 4:20 PM. 4:20 PM. The post said she would crash on her way to pick up the kid. But my pickup was in the afternoon. If I didn’t go pick up my mother-in-law— My phone rang. It was Julian. I stared at his name flashing on the screen. I took three deep breaths before sliding to answer. “Hey.” “Did you pick up Mom yet?” His voice was as gentle as ever. “Not yet, traffic is a bit backed up.” “Oh, then drive slowly, no rush. By the way, Maya—” “Yeah?” “Did you forget something in your purse?” I froze. “What do you mean?” “The ring in your bag. The one I gave you. I just saw it sitting on the couch.” The ring. I instinctively reached into my bag. It was empty. The ring engraved with the word “Substitute”—the one I had found in the car this morning and tossed into my bag. When I was changing my clothes, it must have slipped out. “Oh, yes, that’s mine,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “That’s a relief.” He chuckled. “I thought you picked up someone else’s. It’s a nice ring. The engraving is quite interesting.” The engraving. “Substitute.” How did he know what was engraved on it? I had never told him. I hadn’t even had the chance to. “Maya?” his voice came through the line. “Are you still there?” “Yeah.” “Good,” he said. “Be careful on the road. Drive slowly when you cross the bridge, it’s really windy today.” The bridge. He knew I had to cross the bridge. I had never told him his mother was taking the train. He was the one who told me. He was the one who sent me to pick her up. “Maya?” “I’m listening.” “Are you okay? Your voice sounds a bit strange.” “I’m fine,” I said. “Just a little tired.” “Then go straight home after you get Mom. I’ll head home right after my client meeting. I’ll make that lasagna tonight.” “Okay.” The call ended. I gripped my phone, sitting in the car, watching the minutes tick away. 9:24 AM. Thirty-six minutes left. The silver Toyota sat quietly. The brake lines had been tampered with. They would fail the moment I got onto the bridge. Ninety feet high. I couldn’t swim. I closed my eyes, and my mind flooded with memories of the last five years. The way he warmed up my milk. The way he buckled my seatbelt. The way he stayed up all night taking care of me when I was sick. The way he sobbed until he passed out at my sister’s funeral. My sister. My eyes snapped open. Three years ago, my twin sister, Serena, died in a car accident. A rainy night. Losing control on the highway. The car plunged off the embankment. Everyone, including me, thought it was a tragic accident. But what if— What if it wasn’t?

I called a roadside assistance service. “Hi, what is your current location and what seems to be the problem with your vehicle?” “I’m on Elm Street in the Riverdale district. My car won’t start,” I said. “Can you send someone over to take a look?” “Sure thing, ma’am. We should have a technician there in about twenty minutes.” “Thank you.” The moment I hung up, I dialed another number. “911, what is your emergency?” Ten minutes later, two police cruisers pulled up in front of me. I handed my phone to the officers and showed them the Reddit thread. “Just because of this?” The younger officer frowned. “Ma’am, this looks like a typical creepy-pasta post. We can’t really—” “You can track the IP address,” I interrupted him. “The person posting this is very likely my husband.” “Your husband?” “He said he slipped something into my milk. I did drink the milk he made this morning. He said my brake lines were tampered with. He was the one who took this car for maintenance last week. He said I would crash on the suspension bridge. My mother-in-law is supposedly coming by train today, and I was supposed to cross that bridge to pick her up.” The two officers exchanged a look. The older officer spoke up. “Have you and your husband been having marital issues lately?” “No.” “How is your relationship?” “Perfect,” I said. “Everyone says we are the perfect couple.” “Then why—” “I don’t know,” I shook my head. “But you can investigate. Find out who wrote this post. Check if my car has been tampered with.” The tow truck arrived before the police could make a move. A mechanic in a jumpsuit hopped out. “Hey ma’am, which car is the one that won’t start?” I pointed to the silver Toyota. He popped the hood and tinkered around for a few minutes before sticking his head out. “Ma’am, there’s nothing wrong with your engine. It starts right up.” “I know,” I said. “But I need you to check something else.” “What’s that?” “The brake lines.” He looked puzzled but crawled underneath the car anyway. A few minutes later, he emerged, his expression looking grim. “Ma’am… your brake lines are indeed messed up.” “What’s wrong with them?” “The connection valve is completely loose. Almost all the brake fluid has leaked out. If you drove another ten miles, your brakes would have failed completely.” He stared at me. “You said you just got this serviced? Whoever did this did a horribly sloppy job.” The two police officers’ expressions instantly changed. “Sir, can you tell if this was intentional or an accident?” The mechanic scratched his head. “Hard to say for sure. But the valve was loosened very cleanly, doesn’t look like natural wear and tear. And given the location, a normal mechanic wouldn’t touch this part during a routine service.” The older officer looked at me. “Does your husband know you’re out driving today?” “Yes. He sent me to pick up his mother.” “Is his mother definitely arriving today?” “That’s what he told me.” The officer stepped aside to make a phone call. Five minutes later, he walked back over. “We checked the train registry. No one by that name has a ticket booked to Riverdale today.” I closed my eyes. Of course. There was no visiting mother-in-law. There was no train. There was only a husband who wanted me dead. “Ma’am,” the older officer said, putting his phone away. “We need you to come to the station to give a formal statement.” I nodded. But my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about— Serena. That rainy night three years ago. Did she also drink a glass of warm milk prepared by her husband on some ordinary morning? Were her brakes also “accidentally” tampered with? In the final moments of her plunge, did she realize what was happening?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “455525”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I spent three years caring for my comatose boyfriend after a horrific car accident. But the moment he finally opened his eyes, he grabbed my best friend’s hand and called her “wife.” My best friend blushed, accepted the title, and turned to me with a pitying look. “Val, we shouldn’t stress the patient right now.” I smiled, reached into my bag, and pulled out every single medical bill from the last three years. “A total of $200,000. How would you like to pay?” “Also, since I’ve been acting as a full-time nurse for ‘your’ husband for three years, please reimburse me according to standard market rates.” On that rainy night three years ago, Julian was driving me to the airport when a truck swerved into our lane. He slammed on the steering wheel to take the hit. Because of his quick reflex, I only got minor scratches. But the impact shattered his skull. I sat outside the ICU for seven agonizing hours, signing three consecutive critical condition notices. The doctor told me he might remain in a permanent vegetative state. I was only twenty-three then. I had graduated a year prior and was working as a copywriter at an ad agency, making a meager salary. Julian was my first love. We had been together since college, our parents had already met, and we were planning our spring wedding. But after the crash, I canceled my flights, quit my job, and rented a tiny, cheap apartment right next to the hospital. Julian’s mother, Martha, cried her eyes out at first. She held my hand tightly and sobbed, “Valerie, I’m trusting you with Julian. I know how much you love him. The moment he wakes up, we’ll get you two married.” She was genuinely devastated back then, and genuinely grateful to me. But that gratitude started to rot by the third month. “Valerie, my back is acting up again. Can you pull the night shift at the hospital?” “Valerie, private nurses are just too expensive. Since you don’t have a job anyway, why don’t you just care for him yourself?” “Valerie, Julian’s physical therapy bills are due… How much savings do you have left?” I had about $15,000 in savings, which vanished in less than six months. To survive, I started freelancing. I wrote ad copy and marketing proposals, working on a shaky folding table right next to Julian’s hospital bed in the dead of night. During the day, I bathed him, turned him over to prevent bedsores, massaged his stiff muscles, and read him the news. At night, I pulled all-nighters to meet deadlines. My best friend, Chloe, only visited a handful of times. Every time, she showed up in full makeup, sat for ten minutes, took a selfie, and posted it on Instagram with the caption: *“Visiting my dear friend. My heart is breaking.”* I watched her post rack up hundreds of likes while I quietly knelt by the bed, clipping Julian’s toenails. In the first year, the doctor said there were signs of brain activity. I was so excited I couldn’t sleep all night. In the second year, Julian’s fingers twitched. I recorded over three hundred videos of his progress, crying and laughing at the camera. In the third year—just last month—the doctor told me he was finally showing signs of waking up. Over those three years, I spent $200,000. I sold the small condo my parents had bought for my future. I borrowed money from every friend who would reply to my texts. I maxed out three credit cards. Martha contributed a measly $30,000 before claiming she was completely out of money and needed to save the rest for her retirement. Yesterday, Julian finally opened his eyes. I held his hand, my tears splashing onto his knuckles. I was so choked up I couldn’t utter a single word. His eyes rolled slowly, his gaze bypassing me entirely to look at the space behind me. Then, his cracked lips parted. His voice was raspy, but the word he spoke was brutally clear: “Wife…” I froze. There was only one person standing behind me. Chloe. I didn’t even know when she had walked in. She was holding a bouquet of fresh lilies. The expression on her face shifted from shock to pure ecstasy, and then to a triumphant, gentle smile I had never seen before. “Julian…” She rushed to the bedside, squeezing his hand. “You’re awake! Oh my god, you’re finally awake!” Julian’s fingers tightened around hers, holding onto her as if she were his lifeline. His eyes never left her face. I was treated like thin air. I stood there frozen, my hands still hovering in the air in the shape of holding his hand. Martha burst into the room. Seeing the scene, she paused for a second before quickly walking over— And shoved me out of the way. “Chloe! Julian is calling you!” Her face lit up with joy. “Oh, thank God! You two are finally reunited!” *You two?* I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it had been sealed with concrete. “Martha…” My voice shook. “I’ve been the one taking care of him for three years.” Martha finally looked at me. Her eyes flickered with guilt before she sighed, grabbing my hand with fake sympathy. “Valerie, I know you’ve been good to Julian. But look, he just woke up. His memory is a mess, and the doctor said we can’t stress him. Chloe is the girl he loved growing up. His subconscious remembers her. Doesn’t that prove they are meant to be?” I ripped my hand out of her grip. “I took care of him for three years,” I repeated, enunciating every single word. “I sold my condo. I went into massive debt. I quit my career. And now that he’s awake, you’re telling me to get lost?” “How can you say that?!” Martha’s face darkened instantly. “Who’s telling you to get lost? I’m saying we need to prioritize Julian’s health! Once his memory recovers, we’ll straighten this out. If you throw a tantrum now and cause him to relapse, can you take responsibility for that?” Chloe turned around, her eyes red, looking like a helpless victim. “Val, I’m so sorry… I don’t know why this is happening either. But Julian just woke up, and we really can’t stress him. Why don’t… why don’t you go home and get some rest for a few days? Let me handle things here.” She sounded so sincere, as if she had been the one sleeping on a hospital cot for three years. I looked down at Julian. He was staring at Chloe with absolute tenderness, gently tracing her palm with his thumb. I knew that look all too well. He used to look at me the exact same way. Now, he didn’t even spare me a glance. Suddenly, I laughed. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll leave first.” I turned and walked out of the room. Behind me, I heard Martha whispering, “See? Chloe is so much more sensible, unlike some people…” I shut the door, leaned against the sterile hallway wall, and pulled a cigarette from my bag. I didn’t smoke, but I kept them to stay awake during late-night shifts. I lit it but didn’t inhale. I just watched the smoke rise and fade. Three years. $200,000. I pulled out my phone and opened my camera roll. The latest video was recorded just yesterday. In it, I whispered to a comatose Julian: *”The doctor says you might wake up soon. I bought your favorite blueberries. When you wake up, I’ll feed them to you. Let’s get married, Julian. I’m so tired. I want a home.”* In the video, I had dark circles under my eyes, but I was smiling. I locked my phone and took a deep breath. Did they really think I, Valerie, was a pushover? Did they think they could just swipe three years of my youth and two hundred grand under the rug? I crushed the cigarette, tossed it in the trash, and walked toward the elevator with long, confident strides.

I went back to my rented apartment and slept for ten straight hours. For the first time in three years, there was no alarm, no nurse’s call button, and no need to wake up in the middle of the night to turn Julian over. When I finally woke up, it was 3:00 PM. I had seventeen unread messages on my phone from Martha and Chloe. Martha: *“Valerie, Julian is doing well today. You don’t need to worry.”* Martha: *“Valerie, I thought about it. We will repay the money you advanced. Don’t overthink things.”* Martha: *“Julian asked who you were. I told him you were a hired nurse, and he didn’t question it. Don’t come by for now, we don’t want to trigger him.”* The last message was from Chloe: *“Val, I’m so sorry, but Julian only recognizes me right now. When he gets better, I’ll explain everything to him. Thank you for the last three years. When we get married, I’ll definitely make you my maid of honor.”* I stared at the screen and laughed out loud. *Maid of honor?* I typed a quick reply: *“I’ll be at the hospital tomorrow at 10:00 AM.”* Then, I turned off my phone, took a long shower, put on a full face of makeup, and squeezed into a dress I bought three years ago. I used to wear a small, but now I was thin enough to fit into an extra-small. I looked at myself in the mirror and practiced my smile. It wasn’t a warm smile. It was the kind of smile that made people’s skin crawl. The next morning, I showed up at the hospital room right on time. I pushed the door open to a picture-perfect family scene. Chloe was gently spoon-feeding Julian some oatmeal. Martha was sitting nearby, peeling an apple. Julian was propped up against the pillows, pale but alert, smiling warmly at Chloe. “…And then you insisted on climbing that tree to pick peaches,” Chloe giggled. “You fell, scraped your knee, and lied to your mom saying I pushed you!” “I remember that,” Julian said, his voice weak but filled with affection. “You cried all afternoon and said you’d never play with me again.” “Well, you blamed me!” “Alright, alright. My bad.” They laughed together, looking like a couple straight out of a romance movie. I tapped on the open door. Three heads turned instantly. Julian looked at me with a cold, guarded gaze. “Who are you?” I didn’t answer. I walked straight in, tossed my bag onto the nightstand, and pulled out a thick folder. “I’m Valerie,” I said. “The woman who took care of you for three years.” Chloe stood up immediately, blocking Julian. “Val, why are you here? I thought we agreed—” “Move.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it made Chloe flinch. Surprisingly, she took a step back. I opened the folder and dumped a massive pile of receipts onto the bed. “These are the medical bills from the last three years,” I said. “The grand total is $205,340. That includes $150,000 in direct medical bills, $35,000 for physical rehab, and $20,340 for nursing fees—which is my labor cost, calculated strictly at the local minimum wage.” I pulled out the last piece of paper: my bank statements. “I sold my condo and took out $80,000 in personal loans. I have $25,000 in outstanding credit card debt. Martha, I kept track of the $30,000 you contributed. That leaves a balance of $175,340.” I looked up at the three stunned faces and smiled. “So, how would you like to pay?” The room fell into a dead silence. Julian frowned, looking back and forth between me and Chloe. “Chloe… what is she talking about?” Chloe’s face flushed bright red. “Valerie! Are you insane? Julian just woke up! Why are you bringing this up now?!” “Why am I bringing this up?” I tilted my head. “I’m collecting a debt. Chloe, you’re the new ‘Mrs. Miller,’ right? It’s only natural for a married couple to pay off their debts together.” “Who… who is Mrs. Miller!” Chloe panicked. “Julian is just confused right now. Once he recovers…” “Once he recovers, you two will get married and make me your maid of honor.” I cut her off, unlocking my phone and pulling up her text message from yesterday. I zoomed in and held it right in front of her face. “Isn’t that what you wrote?” Chloe turned white. Martha rushed forward, trying to grab my phone. “Valerie! You’ve gone too far! Julian just woke up and you’re here starting drama! What is wrong with you?!” I dodged her easily, my voice turning icy and loud: “What is wrong with me? I am here to get my money back!” I pointed at Julian. He flinched, pulling back toward the headboard. “Julian, listen to me. I don’t care what you call me. I don’t care if you pretend not to remember me. But I spent $200,000 on you. I quit my career, sold my home, and went from a healthy young woman to this skeletal version of myself. You don’t have to love me, but you are going to pay me back.” I pulled a USB drive from my bag and slammed it onto the nightstand. “On this drive, there is a record of every single payment made to this hospital. There is also a log of my caregiving hours. I’ve already consulted a lawyer, and by law, my labor costs are fully reimbursable. And…” I paused, staring into his eyes, “there are 387 video logs I recorded during your coma. In every single video, I state the date, what I did for you, and how much money I spent that day.” I leaned in closer to Julian. “You can play the amnesia card all you want, but the law doesn’t have amnesia. If you don’t pay me, I will file a police report and sue you. I have absolutely nothing left to lose. I don’t mind taking this to the local news.” I stood up straight and brushed some imaginary dust off my dress. “Three days. Get me my money in three days, and we’re even. Otherwise, I’ll see you in court.” I turned on my heel and walked out. Behind me, Martha screamed, “Valerie! You heartless bitch! You’ll rot in hell!” I didn’t look back. But the moment I stepped into the empty hallway, my knees buckled slightly. Yet, deep down, I had never felt so alive.

The very next day, the money hit my account. $175,340, down to the last cent. Staring at the bank notification, tears finally spilled over my eyes. But before I could even finish crying, my phone rang. It was Martha. “Valerie, you got your money. Are you happy now? But let me tell you, that money didn’t come from us. Chloe paid it! She had to sell her car and borrow money from her parents! Look at you, forcing a young girl who just started her career to sell her car. How do you sleep at night?!” I wiped my tears, my voice dead calm. “I don’t care where the money came from. I only care that the debt is settled.” “You!” Martha gasped in rage. “Julian said he doesn’t even know who you are! You chose to take care of him for three years; nobody forced you to! Now take your money and stay the hell away from us!” “Don’t worry,” I said. “You won’t be seeing me again.” I hung up and immediately blocked her number. Then, I opened my Instagram account—which had been practically abandoned for three years—and posted a single status: *“Three years. $205,340. Paid in full today. We are officially even.”* I attached a screenshot of the bank wire transfer confirmation. My comment section blew up instantly. Though I rarely posted, the few times I did over the last three years were hospital check-ins or late-night coffee cups. My friends knew I was caring for my boyfriend, but they had no idea about the financial toll. *“Wait, what? You guys broke up?”* *“Over 200k? Val, you spent that much on him?!”* *“Did he wake up? What happened?”* I didn’t reply to anyone. I just shut off my phone. I thought that would be the end of it. I was wrong. A week later, I landed a new job as a senior editor at a digital media company. The interview went incredibly well. Even though I hadn’t had a corporate job in three years, my freelance portfolio was stellar. On my third day of work, my assistant, Emma, crept over to my desk, looking concerned. “Hey, Val… have you seen this?” She handed me her phone, opened to TikTok. In the video, Chloe was wearing a pristine white dress, sitting at a piano, looking angelic. The caption read: *“True love is about staying. When he got into a car accident three years ago protecting me, he fell into a coma. I stayed by his side for three years. Today, he finally woke up.”* The comments were overflowing with praise: *“This is real love!”* *“Three years of loyalty? I’m crying!”* *“She is literally an angel. Wishing them a lifetime of happiness!”* My fingers trembled as I scrolled down. The second video featured Julian. He was sitting in a wheelchair, and Chloe was pushing him through a sunny park. He looked up at her with adoring eyes. *”Thank you for never giving up on me, Chloe.”* The third video was a “belated” proposal. Julian was on one knee, Chloe was crying into her hands, surrounded by red balloons and roses. And then, in the comment section of that video, I saw my own name. Someone asked: *“Wait, wasn’t there another girl taking care of him for three years? Is that true?”* Chloe had replied: *“You must mean Valerie. She was Julian’s ex. She actually broke up with him a month after the accident. I guess she felt guilty later and came back to help for a short while, but she left soon after. Martha and I were the ones who took care of him for the last three years.”* The replies below her comment were vicious: *“The ex sounds clout-chasing and disgusting.”* *“I heard she scammed them out of over a hundred grand! That’s literally criminal!”* *“Thank god Julian woke up, otherwise he would’ve been ruined by that leech!”* I stared at the screen, my blood running cold. They didn’t just want to steal credit. They wanted to drag my name through the mud. They wanted to paint me as a gold-digging villain just to make their “epic love story” go viral. Emma looked at me worriedly. “Val… this isn’t true, is it? When you took time off before, you said you were taking care of your boyfriend…” I locked the phone and took a slow, deep breath. “It’s a lie,” I said. “I took care of him for three years, spent over 200k, got kicked out, and now they’re claiming I abandoned him and scammed them.” Emma’s eyes widened. “What are you going to do? This video is trending! It has over half a million likes!” I smiled. “Good,” I said. “The higher they climb, the harder they fall.” I opened the folder containing the files from my USB drive. I had 387 video logs. Every single one was a hard piece of evidence. I opened my banking app. Every transfer to the hospital was documented. I opened my Snapchat and iMessage. My chat history with Martha and Chloe was fully intact. I even found my flight booking from three years ago—the dream job interview in New York I had canceled. If Julian hadn’t crashed the car, I would have been a director at a major agency by now. I looked out the window at the city skyline. “Emma, how do we get a video to go viral on TikTok?” Emma blinked. “Well… we post it with the right hashtags and let the algorithm do its magic. Val, what are you planning?” “What am I planning?” I opened TikTok, created a new account, and typed in the username: *Valerie_TheRealCaregiver*. Bio: *“Three years, $205,340, 387 video logs. Accused of being a scammer and abandoning him. Today, I’m bringing the receipts.”* I uploaded the first video. In the clip, I was wearing a stained, oversized t-shirt, my hair was greasy, and I was wiping Julian’s face with a warm towel. I turned to the camera and smiled tiredly: *”March 15, 2022. Day 58 of Julian’s coma. When I moved his fingers today, they twitched. The doctor says it might just be a reflex, but I’ve been happy all day. Julian, please wake up soon. I miss you so much.”* I set the post to go public at exactly 8:00 AM the next morning. Right during rush hour. I shut my laptop and looked at Emma. “Come on, let’s go get some coffee. My treat.” “Val, aren’t you scared?” she asked. “They have a huge following now…” “Scared?” I took a sip of my freshly brewed coffee. “Emma, I spent three years taking care of a comatose man. There is absolutely nothing left on this earth that scares me.” I watched the sunset outside, my mind completely at peace. It wasn’t the calm of surrender. It was the cold patience of a predator watching its prey step right into the trap. Chloe. Julian. Martha. You wanted the spotlight? I’m about to give you a stage.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “455524”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My husband is a famous “clueless boy-dad” influencer on TikTok. Once, he actually forgot our daughter in a shopping cart at the mall and walked three floors away before realizing it. Another time, he held the umbrella entirely over himself in a downpour, leaving our daughter, Stella, to run behind him. She tripped, fell, and cut her forehead open trying to keep up. Every single time, he would apologize with tears in his eyes. “Chloe, I swear I didn’t mean to. You know how forgetful I am.” I chose to forgive him. But the very next day, while taking Stella out of the car, he slammed her toes right in the car door. This time, he had just landed a million-dollar project. Using “celebration” as an excuse, he took Stella downstairs for a walk. To teach him a lesson he’d never forget, I secretly had our nanny, Maria, take Stella back to my family’s estate. I wanted to see him panic. I wanted him to finally learn his lesson. But to my absolute shock, instead of searching for our daughter, my husband calmly walked back through the front door with a toddler in his arms. “Since Stella is lost, and you’re infertile anyway, I can’t just let the Miller family legacy die with me.” “I adopted this boy. He’ll take care of us when we’re old.” I turned around, walked into the other room, and called my billionaire brother. “Ethan, crush that bastard.” “And that project he just got? Cancel it immediately.”

Tyler was sitting on the bench, scrolling through TikTok and laughing like an idiot. He had literally thrown our daughter, Stella, into the sandbox while he kicked his feet up on the bench, completely ignoring her. Stella crouched by the edge of the sandbox, playing with the dirt. Every now and then, she would look up and call out, “Daddy!” Tyler didn’t even raise his head. He just gave a dismissive “uh-huh” and kept scrolling. I noticed Stella had forgotten her water bottle in the hallway, so I came downstairs to bring it to her. Seeing this scene made my temples throb with rage. Last time at the mall, he forgot Stella in a shopping cart. He wandered through three floors of stores before he finally remembered she existed. By the time he went back, her throat was hoarse from screaming and crying. Yet, he just stood there looking innocent, saying, “Chloe, I really didn’t mean to. You know my memory is trash.” And the time before that, he picked her up from preschool in the rain. He remembered the umbrella, but he kept it entirely over his own head. Stella was running behind him, trying to stay under the shield, but she tripped and scraped her knee badly. Blood was dripping down her little leg before he even registered what had happened. And before that… he slammed the car door on her foot, almost fracturing her toes. But every single time, he apologized. His attitude was always so sincere, his tone so humble, and his eyes would even turn red. “Chloe, I was wrong. I’ll pay attention next time, I promise.” I believed him. Over and over again. And what did I get? There was never a “next time.” There was only another accident waiting to happen. An idea started to form in my mind. Since your memory is so bad, Tyler, let me help you remember. I turned back to the house, called my mother’s place, and asked Maria to come pick Stella up. Then, I started packing. Stella’s clothes, toys, bottles, and snacks—all went into a small suitcase. Everything was ready. When I went back downstairs, Tyler was still glued to his phone. Stella had crawled out of the sandbox on her own and was crouching by the flower bed, watching ants. I walked over, buckled Stella into her car seat in Maria’s car, and kissed her forehead. “Go with Maria to Grandma’s house, okay baby? Mommy will be there tomorrow.” “Bye-bye, Mommy!” I watched the taillights disappear down the street, and a slow smirk spread across my face. Tyler, since you can’t seem to remember your responsibilities, let’s see how you like this. Let’s see how it feels when your child is actually gone.

When I got back inside, Tyler had already gone upstairs. He was sprawled out on the bed, his screen glowing with a video game interface. “You’re back? Where’s Stella?” I asked. “She’s downstairs playing with the other kids,” he muttered, not looking up. I stared at the side of his face for three long seconds. With a cold laugh, I turned and went into the bathroom. As the hot water sprayed over me, I closed my eyes. Images from the last three years flashed through my mind. From my pregnancy until now, Tyler’s version of fatherhood was strictly “aesthetic.” He never accompanied me to a single prenatal checkup, claiming he was too busy with work. The day I went into labor, he was “on a business trip.” I had to sign the consent forms myself. During my postpartum recovery, he complained that the baby’s crying ruined his sleep and moved straight into the guest bedroom. When Stella had a 104-degree fever, I called him crying. He said he was at a business dinner and told me to just Uber to the hospital myself. Yet, on his Instagram, he was a completely different person. “Day one of being a girl-dad.” “She said ‘Daddy’ for the first time today!” “Newbie dad diaper duty is officially active!” Every photo was heavily edited, and the comment section was filled with people praising him as the “perfect husband and father.” I turned off the shower, dried myself, and walked out. Tyler was asleep. His phone was still on, the game still running. I walked over, picked up his phone, turned off the screen, and slapped him hard across the face. “Where is my daughter?” “Huh?” He rubbed his eyes, groggy. “Didn’t I tell you? She’s playing downstairs.” I faked a look of pure panic. “I searched everywhere. She’s not downstairs.” He still looked incredibly relaxed. “Maybe she wandered over to the neighborhood park? She said she wanted to go on the swings there a couple of days ago.” “I checked there too!” My voice raised a few octaves. “I searched the entire neighborhood, Tyler! She’s gone! If anything happens to her, I will ruin you!” He slowly sat up and yawned. “What’s the rush? Kids love to play. She’ll probably just walk back in a bit.” “Is this how you watch our child? Go out and look for her right now! Don’t you dare come back without her!” Tyler’s face darkened, but he didn’t say anything else. He grabbed his jacket and walked out. Over the next few hours, he called me several times on Snapchat, but I ignored every single one. He was probably panicking now. Good. Let him suffer. Late that night, he finally returned. “Did you find her? Where is she?!” I covered my mouth, pretending to cry, though I was actually trying to suppress a laugh. I was just about to tell him that I had sent her to my mother’s, but he spoke first. “Chloe, I know losing Stella is a big deal, but you need to calm down.” I froze. “What?” “I’ve already made a decision.” He sat down on the sofa and patted the back of my hand. “If we can’t find Stella, we can’t just let our lives stop.” The fake panic dried up instantly. I looked at him, my expression turning dead serious. “What do you mean by that?” “I mean…” He looked me dead in the eyes, speaking slowly. “You can’t have kids anymore anyway. I can’t just have no legacy, right? We need someone to carry on the family name.” “So, I took care of something today.” He stood up and pulled open the front door. A woman in her late twenties was standing in the hallway, holding a little boy who looked about two years old. “This is my colleague, Hazel. And this is Leo. He’s an orphan. I’m going to adopt him.” “From now on, he’s our son.”

I looked at the toddler, then at the woman. The way they looked at each other was dripping with unspoken intimacy. I almost laughed out loud. They weren’t even trying to hide it anymore. He had literally brought his mistress and his illegitimate son right to my front door. “An adoption? And you didn’t think to consult me on something this massive?” Tyler looked incredibly righteous. “I tried to call you a dozen times, Chloe. You didn’t answer a single one.” Ah. I thought he was calling because he was worried about Stella. “What about Stella? Are we just giving up?” “We’ll keep looking, but if we don’t find her, we don’t find her,” he said casually as he took Leo from Hazel’s arms. “Don’t waste too much energy on it. Plenty of parents search for their lost kids their entire lives and never find them.” *If we don’t find her, we don’t find her.* *Don’t waste too much energy.* Was this really what a father could say about his own flesh and blood? I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Chloe, I am so sorry for dropping in like this,” Hazel said, looking up at me with a perfectly crafted, apologetic smile. “Tyler told me about your situation. I just felt so bad for this poor little boy, so I helped Tyler connect with the adoption agency.” “Felt bad?” I raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Leo has been in the orphanage since he was a baby. Nobody loved him.” Her eyes actually welled up with tears. “Thank God he met someone as kind-hearted as Tyler, who is willing to give him a real home.” *Kind-hearted.* What a joke. “Leo, call her Mommy,” Tyler suddenly said to the boy. The toddler looked up at me, puckered his lips, and immediately burst into tears. Hazel quickly snatched him back. “Don’t cry, Leo. Auntie Hazel is right here.” “Enough,” I said, unable to watch this pathetic theater any longer. “You guys stay here. I’m going out.” “Where?” Tyler demanded. “To find my daughter.” Tyler’s face immediately darkened. “Chloe, I told you, stop wasting your time. It’s late, and it’s not safe for a woman to be out alone.” “So?” “So, stay home.” His tone left no room for argument. “Leo just got here. Help take care of him and get used to him. We’re a family now.” *A family.* I looked deep into his eyes, searching for even a shred of guilt or fear. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. He was dead serious. He truly believed that replacing my “lost” daughter with his illegitimate son was perfectly reasonable. “Tyler, I finally see you for who you really are.” “Let me tell you something. If Stella has even a single scratch on her, you better pray for your life.” The moment I stepped out of the house, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Ethan.” My brother’s deep voice came through the speaker. “What’s wrong, Chloe?” “Crush that bastard,” I said, staring back at the silhouette of our house. “And that startup project he’s begging you to fund? Pull the plug on it. Completely.”

Ethan’s efficiency was terrifyingly fast. Within an hour, an encrypted document was sitting in my inbox. Tyler had already transferred all three properties under his name to Hazel Carter. His bank savings of twelve million dollars had been transferred in batches to a shell company called “Aura Consulting.” The registered owner of Aura Consulting? Luke Carter. Luke Carter, Hazel Carter. You didn’t need to be a genius to figure out the connection. There was also a three-million-dollar transfer marked as a “business investment” sent to another shell company that Tyler had registered himself. Every single penny of his assets had been moved out. Cleaned out completely. But what truly chilled me to the bone was what came next. Tyler had taken out three massive loans under my name, totaling five million dollars. My name was forged on the signature line. In other words, if I filed for divorce right now, I would not only leave with absolutely nothing, but I would also be saddled with five million dollars in debt. I leaned back in my car seat and closed my eyes. This man was far more ruthless than I had ever imagined. When did he start planning this? A year ago? Two years ago? Or had he been setting this trap since I was pregnant? The moment Stella “went missing,” his first reaction wasn’t to look for her, but to immediately bring his mistress’s kid in to secure his position. He couldn’t even wait to confirm if Stella was actually gone. That was the most heartbreaking part of all. The next morning, I walked back into the house. Hazel was already sitting at my dining table. She was wearing my silk robe. It was a designer piece I had bought just last month. I hadn’t even worn it once; the tags were still on it. “Oh, Chloe, I’m so sorry,” she said, looking up with a sweet smile as she sipped her coffee. “I didn’t bring pajamas last night, and Tyler told me I could just wear yours. You don’t mind, do you?” Right at that moment, Tyler’s phone rang. He picked it up on speaker. A distorted voice came through. “I have your daughter. If you want her back, bring one million dollars.” Then, a video was sent to his Snapchat. It was Stella, crying hysterically. “Daddy, Mommy, save me…” In reality, the video was an AI deepfake I had paid someone to make, just to test Tyler’s reaction. Before the video even finished playing, Tyler grabbed my hand tightly. “Chloe! Stella’s been kidnapped!” “Then what are you waiting for? Get the money to rescue her!” I yelled, pretending to panic. Tyler’s expression flickered. “Stella is just a girl. You expect me to throw away a million dollars on a gamble? There’s no guarantee they’ll even release her alive.” I clenched my fists. “You absolute monster! She is your biological daughter! Are you just going to let them kill her?” “If you won’t save her, I will!” I reached into my purse, grabbing my credit cards. “Going to the bank won’t do you any good,” Tyler said coldly. “I’ve already emptied your accounts.” I stared at him, feigning utter disbelief. “I used that money to secure Leo’s future and paperwork. So… just give up on her, Chloe.” With that, he typed a message and sent it back to the “kidnapper.” [Do whatever you want with her. I’m not paying a single dime.] I lost control and slapped him across the face three times, hard. Tyler took the blows without fighting back. “If hitting me makes you feel better, go ahead,” he said smoothly. “Stella is my daughter too. My heart breaks for her. But we have to be realistic.” I threw my useless bank cards straight at his face. “Get the hell out of my sight!”

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Three days before my wedding, I found out my brother and his family had moved into the master bedroom of my new house without my permission. My mother said casually, “Austin has nowhere else to go. Let him have the master bedroom. You can sleep in the guest room.” “I’ll pay you $50 a month for his rent. We’re family, don’t be so stingy.” After I refused, my whole family called me an ungrateful wrench. My brother went live on TikTok, whining about how selfish I was, and my relatives took turns calling to tell me to “just suck it up.” On my wedding day, they even tried to ruin my ceremony. Since they wanted to play dirty, I decided I was completely done with this toxic family! Three days before the wedding, I walked into my new house carrying a box of wedding favors. Deafening video game sound effects and a toddler’s screaming echoed from the master bedroom. I froze at the entrance. Dirty shoes were scattered all over the hallway, and children’s toys littered the living room floor. The master bedroom door swung open. My brother, Austin, stepped out shirtless, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Oh, Chloe. You’re here?” I looked past him. My wedding bed was covered in dirty cartoon sheets. His wife, Lily, was sitting there, breastfeeding their two-year-old. The closet doors were wide open, stuffed with their clothes. I could hear my own voice shaking. “What the hell are you guys doing here?” Austin acted like it was no big deal. “Didn’t Mom tell you? My lease ended. Since your place was empty anyway, I figured we’d move in.” I practically screamed, “This is my wedding house! My wedding is the day after tomorrow!” Austin rolled his eyes. “I know you’re getting married. It’s not like we’re kicking you out.” “I took the master bedroom, but I left the guest room for you. Pretty generous of me, right?” My blood ran cold. I turned on my heel, ran down the stairs, and drove straight to my parents’ house. My mother, Helen, was watering plants on the balcony. She didn’t even look up when I started questioning her. “I told Austin to move in. It’s so hard for him to rent a place with a toddler. Your house was just sitting there empty anyway.” “That is my house! I spent six months renovating it! Ethan and I saved up every penny to buy all the furniture and appliances!” Helen set down the watering can and frowned at me. “What’s yours is family property.” “Your brother is struggling. As his sister, shouldn’t you help him out?” “It’s not like we’re not letting you live there. Just let them have the master bedroom, and you can sleep in the guest room. What’s the big deal?” I let out a bitter laugh. “So I’m supposed to thank him for stealing my master bedroom?” Helen waved her hand impatiently. “Watch your tone, Chloe.” “Tell you what. I’ll pay you $50 a month on Austin’s behalf, okay? Don’t be so uptight with your own blood.” Fifty dollars. For the house I bought for my marriage, they took my master bedroom and offered fifty dollars a month. I said firmly, “No way. Tell them to get out by tonight, or I’m calling a locksmith to throw them out.” Helen’s face instantly darkened. “Chloe Miller! How can you be so selfish? Your brother doesn’t have a job, and raising a kid is hard. Can’t you show some empathy?” I shot back, “Is it my fault he’s struggling?” “He’s twenty-seven, doesn’t work, plays video games all day, and you guys pay for his kid’s baby formula.” “I bought my own house at twenty-seven without a single dime from this family. And now you’re trying to steal my wedding house?” “Steal? Who’s stealing!” Helen raised her voice. “What’s wrong with letting your brother stay for a few days? He’s your only brother. When your father and I are gone, who else are you going to rely on?” “Help him now, and he’ll remember your kindness in the future.” Always the same old speech. Since we were kids, whenever Austin wanted something of mine, it always ended up being his. My snacks, my toys, even the laptop I bought with my own hard-earned money from my part-time job after high school. Every time, Helen would say, “Austin wants it. Just let him have it. You can buy another one later.” But “later” never came. “They must move out tonight,” I said, turning to leave. Helen sneered behind me. “Fine. Act tough.” “Let’s see if Ethan still wants to marry an ungrateful, cold-hearted wrench who won’t even help her own brother!” My footsteps halted. My heart felt like it was pierced by an icicle.

On my way back, my phone rang. It was my father, Richard. His voice was harsh. “Chloe, your mother told me you’re picking a fight with Austin over a house? Have you lost your mind?” “He’s your brother. He’s going through a tough time. What’s wrong with letting him have the master bedroom?” I sighed, feeling exhausted. “Dad, that’s the house Ethan and I bought for our wedding. We are getting married the day after tomorrow.” “So what if it’s a wedding house? Aren’t we going to be one family after you get married anyway?” Richard said impatiently. “Lily has to take care of the baby. The guest room is too small for them.” “You only need a place to sleep. What’s the difference between the master bedroom and the guest room? Stop being so greedy. You’re making our family look bad!” My voice trembled. “Austin always came first since we were kids. Now I can’t even sleep in my own wedding bed?” Richard snapped, “Stop digging up the past! It’s settled. Austin stays in the master bedroom.” “If you keep throwing a tantrum, don’t even think about having a wedding. Don’t embarrass us!” He hung up. I gripped the steering wheel, my tears blurring the road ahead. When I got back to the small apartment Ethan and I were renting, he was working late on a project. Seeing my pale face, he immediately asked what was wrong. After I explained everything, Ethan’s face darkened. “They moved in? Without our permission?” “My mom said she’d pay fifty dollars a month for Austin’s rent.” Ethan laughed out of sheer anger. “Our mortgage is $4,800 a month. The HOA fee is $300, and utilities are at least $500. What is fifty dollars going to do? That doesn’t even cover the cost of cleaning the floors!” He grabbed his keys. “Let’s go kick them out right now. It’s our house. No one has the right to occupy it.” I stopped him, hesitating. “If we force them out, my mom might actually ruin our wedding. She’s crazy enough to do it.” Ethan was silent for a moment, then pulled me into a hug. “Chloe, this is our home.” “I won’t let anyone take away what belongs to us. Not even your family.” His eyes were filled with determination, and suddenly, I found my courage. We didn’t go to the new house that night. Instead, Ethan contacted the property management and the local police, reporting that someone was unlawfully occupying our private property. The police suggested we try to resolve it peacefully first, but said we could file a lawsuit if they refused to leave. Shortly after, my Aunt Clara called. “Chloe, your mother told me you won’t let Austin stay in your house?” “I’m not trying to criticize you, but the house is just sitting empty. Why can’t you let your own brother stay there for a bit?” “Your mom agreed to pay rent. Just let it go. Don’t make things ugly for the family.” Then came Aunt Beatrice, my cousins, and even an uncle I hadn’t spoken to in years. They called one after another. Their message was exactly the same: *You’re the older sister. You’re doing well. You should support your brother.* If I didn’t, I was selfish, cold-blooded, and ungrateful. Austin even sent me a voice message on Snapchat, his tone full of disdain: “Chloe, is this really necessary? It’s just a bed.” “When I make some money, I’ll buy you a new one, okay? Stop being so cheap.” I typed back: “Move out before noon tomorrow, or I’m changing the locks and throwing your stuff out.” Ten minutes later, my mother bombarded my phone with calls, screaming the moment I picked up. “Chloe Miller, you ungrateful brat! I raised you for nothing! Would it kill you to let your brother stay for a few days?” “Do you have to ruin this family to be happy? Fine, act tough. Let’s see how your wedding goes the day after tomorrow!”

The next morning, there was no sign of them moving out. Ethan called a locksmith, and I contacted the property management and the local police to witness the eviction. When we arrived at the front door, Austin was holding his phone up, live-streaming on TikTok. “Look, guys. This is my sister’s new house. Pretty nice, right?” “But she’s kicking me out. She won’t let me stay here.” “I’m her own brother, and I have a kid with nowhere to go. She’s so heartless.” He pointed the camera at Ethan and me. “Chloe, are you really throwing us out? There are thousands of people watching this live stream. Aren’t you afraid of the backlash?” The comment section started rolling: [Wow, this sister is cold-blooded.] [She lives in a big house while her brother is homeless?] I walked right up to the camera. “We bought this house with our own savings. The monthly mortgage is $4,800, and we spent $150,000 on renovations. My family didn’t contribute a single dime.” “Austin is twenty-seven years old. He has no job and still relies on our parents to support his wife and kid.” “Now, he has broken into my house without my consent and refused to leave.” “Let me ask you all: should I be forced to pay for his laziness and incompetence?” The tone in the chat instantly shifted: [Wait, twenty-seven, unemployed, and leeching off his sister?] [He stole her wedding house? Where is his shame?] [Get them out, girl! Call the cops!] Austin’s face turned bright red. He shut down the live stream and yelled at me, “Are you out of your mind? Why are you airing our dirty laundry to the world?” Just then, Helen and Richard arrived in a hurry. Helen grabbed my arm tightly. “Chloe! If you dare change the locks today, I’ll kill myself right in front of you!” The police officer stepped in. “Ma’am, this property belongs to your daughter. She has the legal right to decide who lives here.” “Your son moved in without permission. That is unlawful entry.” “What legal right!” Helen screamed, throwing a tantrum. “I gave birth to her! What’s hers is mine! I have every right to let my son live here!” Richard pointed a finger at Ethan. “And you! You’re not even married to her yet, and you’re already turning my daughter against her family! What right do you have to interfere in our family business?” Ethan remained completely calm. “Sir, Chloe is my fiancée. Her rights are my rights.” “This house is our joint property. Your son has no right to be here.” “They are leaving today, or we are filing charges for illegal occupation.” “Filing charges?” Helen shrieked. “You’re going to sue your own brother? You ungrateful bitch!” “Chloe, if you let him touch that lock today, you are no longer my daughter!” I looked at her face. The face of the woman whose love and approval I had craved for my entire life. Right now, it was twisted with greed and entitlement. My heart was completely dead. I spoke slowly, “You’re right, Mom. As of today, you no longer have a daughter.” Helen gasped. I turned to the locksmith. “Change the locks. Officers, property manager, please witness this.” “Everything inside that doesn’t belong to me, please help us put it out in the hallway. If they don’t take it, throw it in the trash.” “How dare you, Chloe!” Richard raised his hand to slap me, but the officer quickly restrained him. Austin lunged at me, but Ethan grabbed him and held him back. In the chaos, Helen sat on the floor, wailing, “What did I do to deserve this? I raised a monster! She chose a man over her own mother!” The locks were changed anyway. All of Austin’s belongings were bagged up and piled in the hallway. Lily held her crying baby, sobbing and cursing me for being heartless. I stood inside my newly secured home, looking at my furious family through the doorway. “The wedding is still on. But none of you are invited.”

The hotel ballroom was packed with guests. Ethan’s family, our friends, and our colleagues had all arrived. But the tables reserved for my family were mostly empty. Ethan squeezed my hand. “Do you regret it?” I shook my head. The seeds of regret had been sown years ago. Today was just the harvest. To my surprise, just before the ceremony started, my parents showed up anyway. Helen was wearing a fancy dress I had bought for her, and Richard had a grim look on his face. Austin followed behind them like he was ready to start a fight. After the vows, it was time for the parents’ speeches. Richard took the microphone, but instead of offering blessings, he glared at me. “Today is my daughter’s wedding. We should be happy. But there are some things I must say.” He raised his voice so the whole room could hear. “Just for a house, she dragged her own brother to the police station and threw his family out on the street. Is this how a sister should behave?” The crowd gasped. Helen snatched the microphone, tears streaming down her face. “Chloe, I know you think I’ve been unfair to you.” “But your brother was struggling. What’s wrong with helping him?” “I’m apologizing to you in front of everyone, okay? Do you really have to embarrass our family like this on your wedding day?” The guests began to whisper. Some looked sympathetic, while others just watched the drama unfold. Austin shouted from below the stage, “Chloe, do you have to be like this? Are you happy now that you’ve humiliated our parents?” Ethan stepped forward to stop them, but I pulled him back. I walked to the center of the stage myself. Taking the microphone, I looked at the crowd of people whispering. “I wanted today to be just about blessings, but since they brought it up, I have some things to share.” I smiled at my parents. “Mom, Dad, I actually prepared a special gift for you.” Hearing this, their eyes lit up. Austin looked up expectantly, probably thinking I was finally backing down and giving him the house. I took out my phone and connected it to the projector. Images, bank transfer receipts, and Snapchat screenshots flashed across the giant screen. “These are my bank transfers over the past seven years. I sent $500 to my parents every single month, plus an extra $1,000 to $2,000 for holidays. It totals over $60,000.” “This is the $15,000 I gave Austin for his wedding and apartment renovation.” “This is the $3,000 gift I gave when his baby was born, plus the $200 I sent monthly for baby formula for two years.” “And this is when I wanted to buy my own house. My mother texted me saying the family had no money and told me to figure it out myself.” “My down payment was $100,000. Every single dollar came from my own savings and Ethan’s.” “And finally, this is the ‘solution’ my mother offered after Austin stole my master bedroom. He gets the master bedroom, and she pays me $50 a month.” The ballroom fell dead silent. My parents’ and Austin’s faces drained of all color. Ignoring them, I continued, “Since we were kids, Austin got whatever he wanted. I had to work for every single thing I owned.” “I thought if I worked hard enough and gave enough to this family, I would finally earn your love and fairness.” “But today, I finally realize that in your eyes, I will never be anything more than a cash cow to be sacrificed for your golden boy.” I looked directly at my parents, speaking clearly into the mic. “As of this moment, I am legally and personally cutting ties with Richard, Helen, and Austin Miller.” “From now on, your lives, your sickness, and your deaths have absolutely nothing to do with me.” “And not a single cent of my estate will ever go to you.” `[This is the paywall]`

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Three years after I was diagnosed with severe depression, Ethan was the only reason I stayed alive. He hid every sharp object in our apartment, installed a safety barrier on the balcony, and even left the bathroom door slightly open while I showered. “Take your time,” he’d whisper. “I’ll wait.” Then Sasha came back from overseas. She had studied psychology. She said Ethan was making me define myself by my illness. “The more you protect her, the more she’ll think something is wrong with her.” Ethan said nothing that night. The next morning, he took down the balcony barrier. “The more we avoid something, the scarier it becomes.” He put the knives back in the kitchen. “You need to learn to live with them.” He stopped checking whether I cried at night. “You need to deal with your emotions yourself.” Sasha always stood beside him, nodding. “Exactly. That’s the right way.” The day I was crouching in the corner of a mall, struggling to breathe, I heard them talking a few steps ahead. “Just a little longer,” Sasha said. “She’s almost better.” “And then?” Ethan asked. Sasha hooked her little finger around his and smiled. “Then you’ll be free.” That night, I stood on the balcony. The wind was fierce. The barrier was gone. *** ##

When the front door unlocked, one of my feet was already dangling over the edge of the balcony. The wind rushed through the empty space where the safety grates used to be, plastering my nightgown against my shivering legs. Ethan and Sasha walked in, their laughter cutting through the cold air. The moment Ethan saw me, his car keys clattered to the floor. His face went dead white in an instant, and he bolted toward me. Seeing his panic, my body instinctively shrank back a little. Before, if I stood even slightly close to the balcony, he would wrap his arms around me from behind, his voice trembling as he whispered, “Don’t be scared, Elena. I’m right here.” But this time, Sasha grabbed his arm, her grip tight, her voice calm and firm. “Don’t go over there, Ethan. She’s using self-destructive behavior to blackmail you. If you run to her now, you’re just reinforcing her manipulative control.” Ethan froze right in front of the glass door. He stared at me, and the panic in his eyes slowly cooled into something heavy and cold. Sasha continued, “This is classic borderline manipulation. She knows you’re terrified, so she uses herself as a hostage every single time. You have to stop playing into it.” Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. I stood barefoot on the freezing concrete ledge, my toes completely numb. Looking at me through the glass door, his voice dropped, flat and exhausted. “Elena. Look at you. You aren’t actually going to jump, are you?” I froze. Sasha let out a soft sigh, looking at me like I was a stubborn child who refused to learn. Ethan draped his coat over his arm, his tone returning to that familiar, painfully restrained coldness. “It’s freezing out there. If you’re done putting on a show, get back inside. I’m not playing this game with you anymore.” My fingers slowly slipped off the doorframe. So, standing here wasn’t a cry for help. It was just “putting on a show.” I slowly stepped back into the living room, my bare feet treading across the icy hardwood floor. Ethan bent down to pick up his keys and murmured to Sasha, “You’re right. I used to spoil her too much.” Sasha handed him a glass of warm water. “You’ve done enough, Ethan. Even caregivers need boundaries.” At two in the morning, I dragged myself out of bed. My chest felt like it was crushed under a heavy concrete slab. My temples throbbed violently, and a sharp ringing filled my ears. I pulled open my nightstand drawer and grabbed the white prescription bottle. But when I twisted the cap open and poured the contents out, only a handful of brightly colored candies spilled into my palm. I stared at the candy for a long time, unable to comprehend what I was looking at. Clutching the bottle, I stumbled into the living room. Ethan was sitting on the couch, reviewing emails, his face illuminated by the cold blue light of his laptop. *** ##

I held the bottle out to him, my voice raspy and painful. “Ethan, where are my meds?” He didn’t even look up. “I swapped them.” I gripped the edge of the sofa, my knuckles turning white. “My chest hurts. My head is splitting. Please, just give me my medication.” Ethan finally looked up, his brow furrowed in irritation. “Sasha said your dosage has exceeded the safety limit. You’re not treating your illness anymore, Elena. You’re just addicted.” Sasha stepped out of the guest bedroom. “Elena, medication is only a temporary crutch. You have to believe in your own willpower.” Ethan snatched the bottle from my hand, poured one piece of candy back into my palm, and tossed the rest aside. “Take this. Just get through tonight, and you’ll be fine. Stop acting like you’re completely helpless.” A sudden wave of intense nausea hit my stomach. I bent over the coffee table, dry-heaving violently. He stood up, his patience finally snapping. “I have a meeting early tomorrow morning. Stop making a scene.” I collapsed onto my knees on the rug, my fingers clawing at the edge of the table. “Ethan, please. I’m begging you.” His footsteps paused. Sasha whispered a warning, “Ethan, she’s testing your boundaries.” Ethan’s back stiffened. Without another word, he pushed open the master bedroom door. “Deal with it yourself,” he said. The door clicked shut, and the lock turned. I lay in the darkness of the living room, listening to my own ragged, suffocating breaths. I stayed curled up on that rug until the sun came up. Ethan walked over and tossed a dress onto the coffee table. Looking down at my shivering body, his voice was cool and detached. “Change your clothes. We’re going to Sasha’s welcome-back dinner at noon.” I shook my head, unable to form words. The withdrawal symptoms from suddenly stopping my medication were wrecking my body. Even the faint hum of the elevator outside made my ears ring painfully. Ethan bent down, grabbed my wrists, and yanked me off the floor. “Exposure therapy is the only way to get over this. You can’t just rot in this apartment forever.” I stumbled, dragged by his grip. A angry red ring quickly formed around my wrist. “I can’t go. Not today,” I choked out. Sasha poked her head out from the hallway, her tone patronizing. “Elena, running away only makes the fear bigger. You have to show some faith in Ethan.” Ethan looked at her, his expression softening for a brief second. But when he turned back to me, his grip tightened. “Just cooperate, Elena. Don’t make things difficult for me.” The private dining room at the restaurant was blindingly bright. A dozen people sat around a large table—all of them friends who had witnessed how devotedly Ethan had cared for me over the past three years. Seeing me walk in, one of them laughed and joked, “Look who finally decided to join the real world! Ethan, you’ve really had it rough these past three years.” I sat in the corner, clutching my dress, my chest tightening with every passing second. Sasha walked over with a glass of warm water and spoke in a voice just loud enough for the entire table to hear. “Everyone, let’s not treat Elena like an invalid. Pity only solidifies her victim mindset. She’s actually doing much better now. Right, Elena?” A dozen pairs of eyes locked onto me. I opened my mouth, but only a quiet, pathetic gasp came out. Ethan sat beside Sasha, tapping his fingers against his glass. “Say something,” he muttered. “Don’t expect everyone else to keep covering for you.” Someone chuckled. “Depression isn’t a terminal illness, Elena. Honestly, haven’t you milked this enough?” “Seriously. Ethan’s life has revolved around you for three years. Anyone would be exhausted.” “Sasha’s only been back for a week, and she’s already got you out of the house. I guess that’s what a professional can do.” Their words pierced my ears like needles. I covered my ears, my body beginning to shake uncontrollably. Sasha leaned down, placing a gentle but firm hand on my shoulder. “Look, she’s having an avoidance response. Don’t worry, Elena, we’re all here to help you.” Her perfume drifted over. It was the exact same scent I had smelled on Ethan’s collar the night before. *** ##

I jolted upright. My knees slammed into the table, knocking over a glass. Red wine splashed all over Ethan’s white shirt. The entire room went dead silent. Ethan looked down at the dark red stain, slowly wiping it with a napkin. The veins on the back of his hands bulged. Suffocating, I collapsed to the floor, my fingers clawing desperately at the carpet. “Take me home, Ethan… please, just take me home.” In the past, he would have instantly wrapped his coat around my head and carried me out of the room. But this time, he only looked down at me with pure, freezing contempt. “Are you done making a fool of yourself?” Sasha grabbed his sleeve, whispering gently, “Don’t blame her, Ethan. This is just a withdrawal reaction. If you take her home now, all our progress will be ruined.” Ethan closed his eyes, then sat back down. He picked up his glass, his voice dangerously low. “Elena. Stand up on your own, and get back in your seat.” I looked up at him. My vision was blurred with tears, but I could clearly see how closely he and Sasha were sitting. Sasha handed him another napkin, her fingers lingering on his palm for a few seconds. He didn’t pull away. I stared at him in utter despair, my tears soaking into the carpet. “What if I can’t get up?” Ethan stared back, his eyes empty of any warmth, filled only with exhausted indifference. “Then stay down there. Because I am not going to lift a finger to help you.” Someone at the table whispered, “Finally, Ethan’s growing a spine.” Sasha raised her glass, clinking it gently against Ethan’s. “You’re doing great, Ethan.” The table erupted into chatter and laughter again. No one cared if I was gasping for air on the floor. Even Ethan managed a smile. In that exact moment, the thread that had kept me holding on for three years finally snapped. My fingers were still dug into the carpet, my fingernails bleeding, but I couldn’t feel a thing. I slowly stood up. Ethan seemed to let out a sigh of relief. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Stop making everything revolve around you.” I held onto the wall, pushed open the heavy wooden door, and stumbled out into the pouring rain. Ethan didn’t follow me. The freezing rain soaked my dress within seconds, sending a violent chill up my legs. With trembling hands, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, desperately wanting to call my therapist, Dr. Harper. But before I could even dial her number, my vision went pitch black, and a wave of absolute suffocation dragged me under. When I woke up, Ethan was standing by my bedside with a cup of medicine, looking down at me. “Acute pneumonia,” he said flatly. “You’ve been burning with a fever for two days.” My hand immediately went to search for my phone. It was gone. “Give me my phone,” I croaked. Ethan avoided my gaze. “Sasha said you spend too much time on your phone, and that you’ve been secretly contacting your old doctor to ask for psychiatric meds. That’s bad for your desensitization.” “You can’t rely on conservative treatments forever. You can’t live on pills.” Sasha walked in, holding a clipboard. “I’ve already spoken with Dr. Harper, Elena. Her treatment plan relied too heavily on medication. It’s not suitable for your current stage of recovery.” “To prevent any interference with your therapy, I deleted her number from your phone.” Ethan handed me the cup. “Drink this. And stop looking at her like that.” I didn’t reach for it. Losing the last of his patience, he slammed the cup onto the nightstand. “You’ll get your phone back when you start living like a normal person.” I didn’t beg. My eyes were completely hollow. Uneasy under my empty gaze, Ethan turned and grabbed his coat. “Get dressed. I’m taking you somewhere.” Half an hour later, we arrived at the basement of an abandoned warehouse. When the heavy iron door creaked open, the smell of rust and dampness hit my nose. Under a single dim bulb, a wrecked car sat in the corner. Its hood was completely smashed, and the windshield was shattered into a spiderweb of cracks. *** ## My feet glued to the floor. Three years ago, that exact car had careened toward Ethan.

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My daughter had a sudden heart attack and desperately needed $250,000 for a heart transplant. But after my husband reunited with his first love, he became obsessed with the stock market. He used every single penny of our daughter’s medical fund to buy shares in his first love’s company. When I begged him for the money, he screamed at me: “Can’t you look at the bigger picture? Once I make it big, I can afford the absolute best medical care for her!” But Lily couldn’t wait. Without the surgery, she was going to die. In the end, because I couldn’t get the money in time, I watched my daughter draw her last breath. At Lily’s grave, his first love showed up alone and threw a divorce agreement at my face. “Since your daughter is already dead, stop clinging to Ethan. Sign it and get lost!” A few months later, I teamed up with some powerful allies to crash her company’s stock. Ethan, whose entire life savings were now frozen, came crawling back to me, begging for mercy in the name of our dead daughter. I slapped the death certificate right across his face and told him to go to hell.

My daughter, Lily, had a sudden heart attack. She was lying in the ICU, clinging to life. By some miracle, the hospital had just found a matching donor heart. But when I rushed to the billing department, my card was declined. I suddenly remembered that a few weeks ago, my husband, Ethan, had asked for this card. He told me his stocks were doing amazing and he wanted to transfer the profits into my account. I had believed him. Now, I realized the terrifying truth. With trembling hands, I called his phone over and over. On the fifteenth try, he finally picked up. His voice was dripping with impatience. “Chloe, are you kidding me right now? Stop annoying me. I’m analyzing the market with Clara.” Clara Jenkins was Ethan’s high school sweetheart—the one that got away. She had recently returned to the country, claiming she was launching a startup, and had been sweet-talking Ethan into buying her company’s stock. Brainwashed, Ethan had gone completely mad. He invested all our savings, and now, he had even stolen our daughter’s life-saving medical fund. “Did you take Lily’s medical money?!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face. “Transfer it back to me right now! Lily had a heart attack. She’s dying!” “Ethan, honey,” Clara’s fake, sweet voice drifted through the speaker. “How can your wife be so cruel? Using her own daughter’s life to blackmail you for money?” Her words instantly wiped away whatever hesitation Ethan had left. He snapped at me, his voice freezing cold. “Chloe, it’s just $250,000! Do you really have to be this pathetic to get it back? You’re my wife. What’s wrong with me using your money for a bit?” “Are you just jealous because I’m with Clara? I’ve told you a thousand times, this is a business partnership! Stop acting like a crazy, hysterical bitch!” I looked through the glass window. Inside the ICU, Lily’s heart monitor was slowing down. My heart felt like it was being ripped out. “Ethan, I am not joking! Lily is really dying!” “You’re hopeless! I don’t have time for your drama.” In the background, Clara chimed in again. “Ethan, don’t be too mad. It’s normal for your wife to be desperate for money. After all, she’s just a low-level clerk. She’s never seen real money.” That comment poked right at Ethan’s hidden insecurity about my background. He sighed. “Yeah. She’s completely useless compared to you. Let’s ignore her and get back to work.” Ethan hung up on me. As the line went dead, the heart monitor flatlined. A sharp, continuous beep filled the room. Maybe she heard her father’s words. Maybe her little heart just gave up. I stood there, frozen. The nurses pushed me aside as they rushed in. My eyes were completely blank as I watched them wheel my little girl into the emergency operating room. Every minute of that surgery felt like a slow death. When the doctor finally walked out, his face pale and apologetic, he told me they couldn’t save her. I couldn’t breathe. The world spun, and I collapsed onto the cold hospital floor.

When I woke up, I ignored the nurse’s screams, ripped the IV out of my arm, and ran toward the morgue, stumbling over my own feet. When I pulled back the white sheet, I saw Lily’s peaceful face. She looked like she was just sleeping. But I knew my sweet little girl was never coming back. I held her cold body and sobbed until I choked. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, baby. Mommy was weak. I couldn’t protect your money…” That $250,000 wasn’t Ethan’s. I had worked eighty-hour weeks, writing proposals during the day and driving Uber at night, just to save up for her surgery. Ethan hadn’t contributed a single dollar. Yet, he stole it to impress his first love. I hated myself for trusting him. But more than that, I loathed those two monsters who had left my daughter to die. Over the next few days, I buried my grief deep inside. I forced myself to organize Lily’s funeral. On the day of her cremation, I went back to our house to grab her favorite princess dress. I wanted her to look beautiful when she left this world. But the moment I pushed the door open, my heart stopped. Men’s and women’s clothes were scattered all over the living room floor. The air smelled of sex. Moaning sounds were coming from our bedroom. Ethan had brought Clara into our home, into our bed. And he was doing this on the very day of our daughter’s cremation! Rage boiled in my veins. I marched into the kitchen, grabbed a heavy chef’s knife, and charged into the bedroom. With a savage scream, I slammed the knife deep into the wooden headboard. The two of them shrieked in terror. Clara scrambled back, grabbing the sheets. Ethan quickly covered her naked body, glaring at me with pure fury. “Chloe! Are you fucking insane?!” I let out a cold, hollow laugh. “My husband is screwing another woman in my bed, and I’m the one who’s insane?” Ethan seemed to suddenly remember he was still a married man. His face flushed red, and he stammered an explanation. “Clara and I… we just had a few drinks. We got carried away. We didn’t even go all the way!” I glanced at the trash can next to the bed. A used condom was sitting right on top. The silence was deafening. Embarrassed and angry, Ethan snapped. “Look, a man has needs! You haven’t been home in two days. What did you expect me to do?!” I laughed. The sheer shamelessness of this man was almost comical. “Let’s get a divorce. I don’t want a piece of trash.” The moment I mentioned divorce, Ethan’s face hardened. “No way! I’m not divorcing you!” But suddenly, his face flushed. Under the covers, Clara’s hand must have moved, because Ethan let out a low gasp of pleasure. Seeing that right in front of me felt like a slap in the face. It was sickening. I silently pulled out my phone, switched it to camera mode, and took several clear photos of them under the sheets. Then, I turned around and walked over to the closet to find Lily’s dress. “Why are you taking Lily’s dress?” Ethan called out. “Because you stole that $250,000, Lily didn’t get her surgery in time,” I said, my voice cracking as I fought back tears. “She’s dead.” Ethan froze. He stared at me in disbelief. “What nonsense are you talking about? Lily was stable. How could she be dead?” Clara felt Ethan’s hesitation. She immediately reached out and grabbed his arm, looking at me with fake pity. “Chloe, I know you’re mad because Ethan bought stock in my company. But even if you’re angry, you shouldn’t joke about your own daughter’s life.” “Once Ethan’s stocks blow up, he’ll pay you back double.” “If you don’t believe me, go to the hospital yourself!” I snapped. Before I could finish, Ethan yelled at me. “Enough, Chloe! I am so sick of your cheap drama! I told you I’d pay you back. Why do you have to be so incredibly greedy?” “You’re taking that dress to go see her at the amusement park, aren’t you? Tell her Daddy will take her out for a nice dinner in a few days. Tell her to be good, and don’t let her go on any scary rides.” Even now, he was pretending to be a loving father. His hypocrisy made me want to throw up. I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. I grabbed the dress and walked out. Lily was waiting for me at the crematorium.

I chose a beautiful, quiet cemetery on a hill for Lily. I wanted her to be as free as the wind in her next life, untouched by sickness. As I knelt in front of her tombstone, whispering to her, a pair of designer high heels appeared in my field of vision. I looked up. It was Clara. Her makeup was flawless, a sharp contrast to my pale, exhausted face. The moment she saw me, she smirked and threw a folder onto the grass. “Ethan is too busy, so he asked me to deliver the divorce papers.” She knelt down, her manicured nail lightly tapping Lily’s black-and-white photo on the tombstone. “Oh. Who died?” I grabbed her wrist and slapped her across the face with everything I had. “Keep your filthy hands off my daughter, you disgusting homewrecker.” Clara clutched her swollen cheek. Instead of getting angry, she let out a venomous laugh. “Is that all you’ve got?” Her eyes were filled with mockery. She stood up, looking down at me like I was dirt. “I will make you pay for that slap.” She turned and sauntered away. When I got back to the house, Ethan was waiting on the couch. His face was dark. I completely ignored him and walked into the bedroom to pack my things. Suddenly, he grabbed my arm, spun me around, and slapped me hard across the face. “Who gave you the right to touch Clara?” I wiped the blood from my lip and smirked. So that’s what this was about. Seeing my cold, unfazed reaction, a flicker of panic crossed Ethan’s eyes. His tone softened slightly. “You can’t just go around hitting people. I had to teach you a lesson for her sake.” Teach me a lesson? These two monsters killed my daughter. The fact that I hadn’t murdered them yet was a miracle, and he wanted me to apologize to her? “Ethan,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I will make you regret that slap for the rest of your life.” I picked up the divorce papers and threw them back at him. “I don’t agree to these terms. I’ll see you in court.” “Chloe, do you really have to make a scene? A fifty-fifty split of the assets is more than fair!” Ethan yelled, losing his temper. “The judge will decide what’s fair.” I didn’t waste another second. I packed my life into a single suitcase, dragged it past him, and walked out of the house. Five years of marriage, reduced to one suitcase.

A week later, we stood in court. Ethan showed up with Clara. Both of them were dressed in expensive designer clothes, looking smug. “Chloe, I’m going to make sure you regret today,” Ethan sneered. A lawyer in a sharp suit walked up behind them. Ethan smiled proudly. “This is the head attorney for Clara’s company. Since you wanted to do this the hard way, we’re going to make sure you walk away with absolutely nothing.” I let out a soft laugh and ignored them, walking past them into the courtroom. Ethan grabbed my arm. “I’m going to fight for full custody of Lily, too. You’re a jobless, single woman. You don’t have the means to raise her.” The moment he mentioned Lily, rage flared inside me. I violently shook off his grip. “How dare you bring up her name? You aren’t fit to be her father!” “Oh, come on. Is she still mad at me? Fine, I’ve been busy making money lately. Once this is over, I’ll buy her some toys and she’ll forgive her daddy.” Listening to his delusional babbling, the veins on my forehead throbbed. “I told you a hundred times, Ethan! Lily is—” Before I could finish, Clara quickly cut me off, wrapping her arm around Ethan’s. “Oh, Ethan, why waste your breath on her? Let the judge’s verdict do the talking.” Ethan nodded, kissing her cheek. As they walked away, I heard him say, “Baby, once I get all the assets, I’m investing two-thirds of it straight into your company.” I watched their retreating backs. We’ll see who gets laughed out of court. Once the trial started, Ethan’s lawyer was indeed aggressive. He presented a list of fabricated faults against me, trying to paint me as an unstable wife. But then, my lawyer played our trump card: the photos of Ethan and Clara in our bed. The courtroom fell silent. Ethan’s face turned from smug to pale in a second. Because of the clear evidence of adultery, he was legally deemed the party at fault. To make matters worse, my lawyer played the audio recording of Ethan slapping me and admitting to it. Realizing he was losing, Ethan lost his mind. He jumped up, pointing a finger at me, and screamed, “You bitch! You spied on me?!” The jurors began whispering, glaring at him with disgust. “What a pathetic loser.” “He cheats on his wife and then tries to leave her homeless? How shameless.” “Wait, isn’t that woman next to him his mistress? She actually had the nerve to show up to his divorce court?” Clara heard the whispers. People were looking at her like she was a parasite. Unable to take the humiliation, she grabbed her bag and fled the courtroom. In the end, the judge ruled in my favor. I was awarded all our remaining assets. Ethan was left with absolutely nothing. Since Ethan had already emptied our bank accounts for Clara’s stock, our only real asset was the house. The court signed it over to me. I met Ethan’s furious, bloodshot eyes. I slowly mouthed two words to him: “You lose.” Before he could jump over the table, I walked out of the courtroom, free. The moment the house deed was officially in my name, I put it on the market. Because it was in a prime location, it sold in three days for $3.5 million. With the cash in hand, I reached out to my old college friend, Serena Miller. Serena was now a powerhouse in the financial world. I had seen her face on the cover of Forbes while buying books with Lily. We had drifted apart over the years as our lives took different paths, but I knew she was a true friend. We met at a quiet, upscale cafe. The moment she saw me, she threw her arms around me. We talked about the old days, laughing and crying. But when she asked about my marriage, my smile faded. I told her everything. Then, I looked her straight in the eyes. “Serena, I have three million dollars. Teach me how to play the market. I want to ruin them.” Serena slammed her hand on the table, her eyes blazing with anger. “Deal! I’m in. Let’s make those bastards lose every single thing they have!”

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